I knew it was her the moment she walked through the door. The briskness of her steps, eyes hidden behind the safety of sunglasses, and a stature common of celebrities shielding themselves from the paparazzi announced her identity as she bustled into the small office. Her mouth formed a scowl that somehow managed to have the quality of a faint smile that only she and the most astute observer could be aware of.

I had waited for her for hours, just to catch a glimpse to know she was real and she rushed past me to the safety of her office giving a quick glance in my direction. Even behind the tint of the sunglass lenses, I could tell her eyes registered a hint of recognition as they laid upon my face and that is more than what I could have expected, but I took the mistake she made in making the recognition known as an acknowledgment and invitation to follow her into her office and was greeted by the closing of a worn, wooden door in my face.

As if an unspoken conversation happened between them in the brief moments of her arrival, her secretary spoke in an even tone, “I’m sorry, but Miss Vanderbilt is booked for today and cannot fit any impromptu meetings in her schedule.”

“Impromptu?” I was rubbing my nose, more of an effort to hide my embarrassment than to alleviate the throbbing pain caused by the impact my face made against the door. “I scheduled this meeting months ago.”

The secretary stared at me absently while flipping open the appointment book, pen in hand, “I’m sorry Miss —,” she paused with a tone in her voice indicating that it did not matter who I was or when my appointment was scheduled; I would not be seeing Virginia Vanderbilt today.

“Bordeaux. Alicia Bordeaux.”

The secretary placed a line through my name with a finality that told me no meeting would be occurring. Not for me and not for anyone else. My name was the only name on the schedule for today. “Would you like to reschedule, Miss Bordeaux?”

“When would I be able to get another appointment?”

The secretary flipped through several pages of the book, all of them empty, and looked up at me with a smile, “Six weeks from tomorrow.”

“That’ll be too late.”

The secretary nodded, closing the appointment book, a look of satisfaction on her face for her performance which contradicted the pity in her light brown eyes. I grabbed my belongings, a leather-bound journal wearing away at the spine and a manila envelope that I carelessly left on the chair beside the one I vacated in a haste to follow Virginia, and headed toward the door.

“She eats at Sam’s every Thursday night,” the secretary called out to me as if saying a standard salutation. I turned to look at her and her eyes told me everything she could not openly admit. That one sentence was an apology to me, repentance for whatever sins she felt she committed in an effort to do her job, and a warning not to return to this office. I nodded in acknowledgment knowing that the secretary’s set of eyes weren’t the only ones watching me leave. Virginia Vanderbilt was peeking through the blinds of the glass window on her office door.

Sam’s was a dusty old bar and it was surprising to me that someone like Virginia would even consider stepping foot in here, but there she was at the bar, a cigarette dangling from her lips and a cloud of smoke billowing around her. Tucking under my arm where the journal and the envelope from earlier, I strode across the floor of the bar and sat next to her.

From the way she slightly scooted away, I knew she registered my presence, but a woman like Virginia would not just acknowledge me. It was not in her nature to be accepting. I placed the journal and envelope on the bar top and flagged the bartender over.

“What’ll it be ma’am?”

I had never drank before, but not wanting to look foolish I ordered what I’d heard many badass women order in films. “A whiskey.”

Virginia snorted as she stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. “Can you even handle whiskey, kid?”

The bartender joined in her laughter as he placed my drink in front of me, an amber liquid that smelled like death. I did not want to drink it, but Virginia and the nameless bartender were staring at me expectantly so I picked up the glass, ice cubes tinkling as I brought it to my lips and chugged. A burning sensation coated my throat and I thought I’d throw it all back up, but I didn’t.

I placed the glass back on the bar gingerly and wiped the corners of my mouth with a small smile. Virginia snorted again and shook her head while the bartender walked away to serve other customers. “Rookie.”

“Excuse me?” In my moment of triumph, I didn’t think Virginia would say anything else to me, but here she was, engaging in conversation on her own accord and likely at my expense, but I needed this.

“I know you’re the young woman from my office earlier today.”

She didn’t offer anything else, but it seemed like an opening to me and I’d be a fool not take it and plead my case. “Ms. Vanderbilt, I think you can help me.”

“Everyone does. Get in line.”

She had yet to look at me, and part of me believed it was because she was afraid of what she would see. It had not escaped me that something about me was familiar to her. She was curious, but not enough to be open with me.

“You don’t understand. I was given this on my eighteenth birthday three years ago. I think it belonged to you.” I slid the journal across the bar, careful not to upset the fraying edges.

She stared at the leather bound journal in front of her with a bowed head but did not touch it. Her eyes just kept moving around the surface of the cover and her breath quickened just a bit. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke again. “Who gave this to you?”

“It was sent to me from the orphanage I grew up in before I was adopted. Apparently, it was left for me by my mother, but I cannot read it. The only thing I could see were the initials V. V. etched into the inside cover and a small crest.”

“So what makes you think this is mine?” Virginia was fingering a necklace hung on her neck, winding it tightly around her finger. The one small round pendant held the same crest as the inside cover of the journal.

“I didn’t at first. Then, while I was reading a magazine, I saw your picture and that necklace,” I pointed toward the necklace currently wrapped around her finger, which had turned red from how tightly it was wound. “It has the same crest as the book.”

“So it does.” She looked down at her necklace, then reached down and fingered the cover of the book. A smile played across her lips slightly before it disappeared and was placed with an expression of indifference. “Why come to me instead of your mother? Who was she anyway?”

It was as if a dark cloud cast its shadow over me once the question left her lips. I was certain Virginia could answer that question on her own just by viewing the book so I wouldn’t have to divulge what I know. Or, at least what I found out and think I know. “I think she’s dead.”

Virginia’s shoulders sagged at the news and cleared her throat a few times. For the first time since this conversation began, she looked at me and I was taken about by the misty violet orbs boring into mine. Had her eyes always been that color?

Without warning, Virginia scooped up the book, hopped off her stool, and grabbed my arm. “Come with me.”

“What? Where? Ms. Vanderbilt?”

She turned impatiently to me as I struggled against her. “If what you say is true, we cannot talk here. It’s not safe.” As if to prove her point, she cast a wary glance around her as if suddenly everyone in the bar meant them harm. “Come with me.”

Against my better judgment, I slipped off my stool, careful to grab the manilla envelope laying on the bar, and followed closely behind her as she exited the bar in haste.

Struggling to keep up with her deft movements, I sidled behind her as she seemingly glided from corner to corner, peering around buildings and looking over her shoulder. “You knew my mother?”

“You didn’t?” She finally reached her office building, placing her hand on the door until she heard a click and shoved me inside before turning around and shooting what looked to be light out of her hands around its frame. What the hell did I get myself into?

“No. I was adopted by the Bordeaux family when I was very small. I don’t know anything about her. I don’t even know her name. And, what are you doing?”

“Protecting the door. There’s no telling how many spirits have been following you since you came into possession of the Vanderbilt Grimoire.”

“The what?”

“The Vanderbilt Grimoire. Book of spells, incantations. Surely you’ve heard of grimoire before?”

“Well, yeah,” I slumped into a chair of the waiting room I waited in earlier. “In fairytales and fantasy stories. They don’t actually exist though.”

Virginia began pacing, continuously fingering the necklace hanging from her neck. She seemed to be having an internal war with herself and I wasn’t sure if I should interrupt. I watched her as random spurts of light escaped her fingertips and singed the carpet. As if settling whatever battle she was having, she turned to me, and instinctively I shrunk back under her gaze. “Your mother’s name was Vivienne Vanderbilt, my younger sister. She disappeared twenty-two years ago, and we thought she was lost somewhere in the shadow realms. Your appearance here suggests otherwise.”

“You think my mother may be alive?”

“Oh absolutely not,” she took one look at my face and backpedaled a bit. “What I mean to say is that there is no way my sister would have let that book out of her sight unless she didn’t plan on surviving. I don’t know what happened to her, but I’m sure the answers are somewhere within this book.”

“But I can’t read the book. All the pages are blank.”

Virginia gave me a smile of pity before slipping off her necklace and handing it to me. “Put it on.”

I slipped the necklace on as she shoved the grimoire in my lap. What was once a blank fraying cover was now shiny and brand new. Gold lettering began looping itself on the cover until it read, “Vanderbilt Grimoire - 1926”. I gasped as I began leafing through the pages, which were now filled with neat black letters on crisp white pages instead of yellowing blank pages. “How?”

Virginia sat next to me, taking back her necklace and the grimoire. It once again looked like an old journal that was falling apart. “Only a wearer of this necklace can read the grimoire, which is why we have to go back to your orphanage.”

“What? This makes no sense.”

She sighed as if stopping to explain everything to me was beneath her. “Vivienne would have never just left you the grimoire without also giving you a necklace. Something is amiss and I say the orphanage is a better place than any to start.”

“But my mother? You? What are you? A witch?” I laughed at the ludicrous notion of Virginia and my mother being witches. Surely there was a logical explanation for the things I was experiencing.

Virginia, however, just stared at me, violet eyes flashing as a smile spread across her lips. “Precisely.”

Meridian's heart felt like it was pieced together with scotch tape. When she woke up the next morning, her eyes were crusted over and her nose was sore, but she still managed to make it out of the house and trudged her way to the Limbo Building for her shift at work. She did not wait for Grace to stop by and Grace's surprise to see her at her desk was evident by the way Grace kept eying Meridian as if she'd suddenly fall apart and scatter all over their shared workspace. Grace did not say anything though, so they continued to work together in companionable silence that Meridian was more than grateful for.

The options Meridian had left tumbled through her mind as she input the results of her last month of tours into the Limbo Building's database. It was a cruel twist of fate that of all the ways she could contribute to society in the afterlife, this was her job. Not all newly dead souls traveled through the Limbo Building. Some souls, like Meridian, go directly to the transition center. The Limbo Building, however, welcomed souls who, though dead, had the opportunity to go back to the life they were leading prior to death. These souls were the ones who died, but come back.

When Meridian was alive, she used to think the people who "came back" were just miracles. After dying herself, Meridian learned it was more than that. Those who die and get the chance to go back, if they so choose, have unfinished business, whether good or bad, to attend to. Apparently, loving Omar wasn't enough unfinished business for Meridian to have this chance and this brought her back to her dilemma.

Meridian could choose to reincarnate, but she'd be starting life over and eventually lose her memories, which is why she turned down the Soul Bank. If Meridian didn't reincarnate, she'd be sent to the Netherworld, which was the original problem she had. The only difference now is that she had much less time to figure out a solution. As she wandered around the recesses of her mind, it became more apparent to her than ever that she truly did run out of options.

"I'm going to do it," she breathed out, breaking the silence.

Grace's head perked up and she peeked over the dividing wall. "Do what?"

Meridian gave Grace a look as if to say "really?", but answered anyway. "I'm going to go to the Netherworld."

Grace's ocean blue eyes watered, but she had the good sense not to shed them. Grace reached her hand over the wall and stretched it out for Meridian to take. "He must mean a lot."

Oh, he does.

"It's not just that. If I go through with this, I lose everything, and I think 500 years worth of memories is a lot of time to give up. I don't want to forget him or you. You mean a lot to me too."

Grace dabbed at her wet eyes with her free hand. "Oh, Meridian! I love you too. If it were possible for me, I'd follow you to hell."

Meridian smiled at Grace, touched by the true friendship she always provided. Even in the worst possible moments, Meridian knew she could count on Grace. Her eyes slipped to her left to the various clocks that adorned the wall counting the days, hours, and seconds of souls all over the earth. All on different hours, yet somehow still perfectly keeping time.

She was never more aware of the ticking of seconds as she was at this moment, contemplating the amount of time she had left here. It was this heightened awareness that drew her eyes to a small silver-framed clock in her direct line of eyesight, with a mere thirty seconds remaining before that soul, whoever it may be, took their last earthly breath and joined the afterlife.

As her last official duty, before she gave the Judgment Council her decision, Meridian wanted to welcome that soul in. She squeezed Grace's hand before letting her fingers slip away, gesturing with her head toward the clock that now had ten seconds remaining. "I'm going to take this one."

Grace nodded, wiping at her eyes as if they already said goodbye. "There's no better soul to do so."

With a smile, Meridian walked to the lobby, enclosed with glass doors and windows that gave the perfect view to outside. Any second now, her last penance would walk through those doors, and she was determined to provide this soul everything Meridian would likely be missing by the end of the day.

Meridian stared out the glass door, but decided at the last second that would be a bit creepy, so she gingerly went about tidying things on the table that housed reading material in the lobby. It must have been within those moments that the soul she was waiting for slipped in and took a seat in one of the egg-shaped chairs in the lobby, seemingly waiting.

"Oh, hi!" Meridian greeted when she finally turned around and noticed a woman, who looked no older than Meridian had when she died. "Welcome to the afterlife!"

The woman brought a tawny-colored hand to her mouth, eyes wide. "Am I dreaming?"

Meridian gave a light, tinkling laugh. "No. This is real. I felt like that the first time I got here, but I can show you around. You have a special opportunity that not many of us get. My name is Meridian."

Meridian held out her hand to the woman and hoped she would take it. She needed this last moment of normalcy more than anyone could imagine and this woman had all the power to give it to her. The woman stared at Meridian's hand, green eyes misting over.

"Remi. My name is Remi Miles," she grabbed Meridian's hand delicately. "Special opportunity?"

"Well, yes. You're in Limbo. It's where all the souls go who are in between worlds. It gives you a choice. After finding out all there is to know about the afterlife, you can decide to stay here or go back to the life you were leading."

"How do I go back?"

Meridian frowned. Remi hadn't even seen much of the afterlife and she already sounded eager to leave. She knew death was a scary unknown, but how amazing is it to find out something exists once you die? Maybe Remi was just shocked.

"The coin. Before leaving the ferry that brought you here, Captain Charlie should have given you a coin."

Remi held up a gold medallion in her dainty hand. It gleamed in the light of the lobby and Meridian stared at it as if she'd never seen one before.

"You mean this?"

"Yes. It is the only way you can get through the plane back to Earth. That is if you'd want to go back once you're done here."

"I guess I should hold onto it then," Remi gave a light laugh that sounded melodic. There was something about this soul that drew Meridian to her and she was so thankful this would be the soul she gave her last tour to. "So where do we start?"

"First, you give that coin to me. It's policy. Too many passing souls have lost their coin and ended up stuck here. I keep it safe in a special case," Meridian pointed to a fanny pack around her waist, "and return it to you if you decide that this is where you do not want to be."

Remi passed Meridian the coin. Securing the coin in the case, Meridian gestured for Remi to follow her outside and began showing her all of the wonderful things there was to see and do in the afterlife.

Over the years, the afterlife changed a lot. It always adapted to what life on earth was like. Meridian had seen vast changes in her 500 years, and, at times, she was astounded of the life she was missing out on down on Earth. A life she'd never see again.

The tour itself was just like any other. Nothing was special or different about showing Remi Miles around the afterlife other than Meridian's knowledge that this would be her last tour. Never again would she walk the tree-lined streets or venture into small shops that had the sweetest sweets she'd ever tasted. She'd never have this opportunity to be somewhat happy because she'd be going to hell tonight.

"This is all very beautiful," Remi commented when they stopped walking around to rest on a bench. They were eating ice cream and just enjoying the warmth of a shining sun. "I'm not sure if I want to stay though."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I have an entire life back on Earth, and it'd be a shame if I left it for good when there is a chance I can still live more of it."

Meridian inclined her head, but it still didn't make much sense. Sure, life on Earth with people you loved is appealing, but she just died. It couldn't have been going that great. Even when she did return, she'd have no idea what she'd be returning to. Would her life even be the same?

"There are many who feel that way, but it really is a gamble. Going back this way, I mean. Many choose to stay because the circumstances of their deaths are too much for them to bear."

"You don't understand. I can't leave him."

Meridian was mid scoop of her ice cream when she let go of her spoon. Remi Miles just became interesting. "Him?"

A smile tugged the corners of Remi's lips. "Yeah. My boyfriend. I love him. A lot. I'm almost certain he's the one."

Unable to stop herself, Meridian could not help but smile too. The shine in Remi's green eyes as she talked about her boyfriend tugged at Meridian's heart that was in disrepair. She knew what it was like to love a man the way it seemed Remi loved hers. That feeling that no matter where you were, when you thought of him every inch of you warmed up from the heat of your feelings for him.

And just as that warmth started to inch up and melt the ice in her soul, Meridian sobered up. Omar did not remember her anymore, and she was in love alone. As if sensing a change in Meridian, Remi placed a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I supposed we should get you back to the Limbo Building, so we can get you processed for returning to earth, huh?"

"Oh yes, I can't wait to get back to Omar!"

"Excuse me?"

"Omar. My boyfriend. Omar Rhodes."

It was as if everything in Meridian came crashing down all at once and fell as a slopping mess to the ground. What little ice cream she had left in the wax bowl leaked along the ground as Remi gasped and hurried to pick it up.

This could not be happening to her. There was no way that fate worked so perfectly that of all the souls she'd meet on her last day in the afterlife would be the current girlfriend of the love of her life. And what's worse is that this girlfriend has the option of going back to him. An option that Meridian was not given herself. What made her so unworthy?

It was if Meridian were being sliced a thousand times with very small cuts that alone did very little damage, but together damaged her beyond repair. How could this be? What more could she do to deserve just one happy moment in the miserable existence that has been her life?

And as if out of nowhere and all at once, it hit her. Meridian had the key to solve all her troubles. She just needed to get Remi back to the Limbo Building and everything would work out just fine for once.

She needed Grace.

“So explain to me again why not remembering is not an option?” Grace asked for what felt like the millionth time. Meridian watched her take a sip of tea, bright blue eyes peering at her over the rim of the mug before she continued. “I mean what makes him remembering you so important? If he’s immortal, he’s probably loved tons of women before you.”

Meridian winced at the words. “That’s not possible.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because I was his first love. We were born in the same village a week apart.”

“Ah, I see.” Grace placed her mug on the wooden dining table.

Tracing circles on the table with her fingertip, Meridian considered her options. She and Grace had been sitting at her dining table for the past three hours and made no progress in their search for a way to save Meridian from hell. It could not be this hard to save her soul from eternal damnation if that is what was waiting for her in the Netherworld anyway.

“Maybe we can research some things on the computer? Maybe there’s something we’re just not thinking of.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Grace shrugged, not seeming to think a search on the eternal net was going to provide help.

Before Grace could convince her otherwise, Meridian turned on her computer and opened a browser. She started typing in a tab when Grace called out, “Meridian! Wait! Look!”

With a furrowed brow, Meridian turned in her desk chair to stare at Grace for her outburst. “I swear you better have a good reason for screaming at me like that, Grace.”

Grace just pointed repeatedly at a golden, blinking envelope icon on the taskbar of Meridian’s screen. How had Meridian not noticed it before? It was definitely hard to miss. “This is impossible!”

“Maybe it isn’t what we think it is. Just open it!”

“What else could it be, Grace?” Meridian snorted in derision. She appreciated Grace’s skepticism, which Meridian was sure was purely for her benefit, but there weren’t many other possibilities of what the golden envelope could be.

Without breathing, Meridian clicked on the blinking icon and a message outline in a thick green border appeared on her screen. In the top right corner was yesterday’s date, the eve of her death day. Meridian thought back to yesterday and could not remember turning on her computer at all. If she had, she may have saved herself a trip to the Soul Bank. Taking in a deep breath of air, Meridian read the message:

From: The Office of the Judgment Council

To: Meridian King

Re: Reincarnation

Dear Ms. King,

It has come to the attention of the council that as of 5:00 pm this evening, you have faded from living memory. Considering your history, the council finds it imperative that you reincarnate as soon as possible. Reincarnation is expected of every soul, and, as such, it is imperative that you return this message to us promptly with your acceptance within seven days time. Should you elect to forfeit the opportunity to reincarnate, you are electing to be promptly sent to the Netherworld. We cannot impress upon you enough the seriousness of this decision.

May you choose wisely.

Michael Dotan

Commissioner

“Well, what does it say? Meridian?” Grace all but cried.

Meridian’s hand dropped from the mouse and hang limply on her side. She could not believe what she just read. This just couldn’t be right. There is no way that she could be up for reincarnation. Omar could never forget her. He would never forget her. She turned her head to the left and stared at a picture of Omar that she kept on her wall. Staring into the hazel eyes in the picture, Meridian thought back to the last time she looked in those eyes that she loved so much.

The winter was harsh that year, and Meridian knew she would not last much longer. She laid in the bed of the one-room log cabin she shared with Omar on the outskirts of their small village, shivering although she was sweating. Omar sat on the edge of the bed, wiping a cloth across her forehead to sop up the sweat that seemed to come pouring out of her in droves.

“It’s going to be okay, my love,” Omar promised, running his fingers through her afro of curls that lay spread all over the feather pillow.

“Y-y-you d-don’t know t-th-th-that,” Meridian’s teeth chattered as she struggled to respond to him. She felt as if she was wrapped in lava, but could not stop shivering.

“Shhh, don’t waste the little energy you have. And I may not know, but I have to have faith that it is going to be okay. I need it to be okay.”

Meridian just nodded, not having the strength to verbally respond. She knew she was going to die. She had a feeling Omar knew it too, but he was trying to be hopeful for her.

“Do you remember when we first met?” It seemed to be a question out of the blue and Meridian opened her eyes to look up at Omar as if to say, ‘why are you asking me this?’ “Well, do you?”

Meridian nodded her affirmation and briefly thought of witnessing a six-year-old boy falling out of a cherry blossom tree. She ran to him, afraid he would be dead with a snapped neck when she reached him, but he had nothing but small scrapes and bruises. That would forever be their place as they grew from childhood friends to lovers.

“I knew the day you found me at the bottom of that tree I would love you forever, Meridian. I promise you, no matter what happens, that I will never forget you.”

Meridian stared into his eyes like pools of crystalized honey and her eyes misted over as her vision began to fade. She knew that she, too, would love him forever. A single tear escaped beyond the safety of her eyelashes and slid down her clammy cheeks as everything turned to darkness. The last thing she heard was Omar crying out her name before she heard, saw, and felt no more….

“Meridian!” Grace snapped in Meridian’s face. “What does it say?”

Meridian blinked a few times registering Grace’s face. A sob escaped Meridian so forcefully as if it began in her toes and snowballed up her body to leak out of her lips as the realization washed over her in deep, drowning waves of misery.

“Meridian?” Grace asked again as she enveloped Meridian in a hug. Somehow, Meridian slipped out of her chair and Grace sat with her on the hickory wood floor, rocking back and forth. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Every time Meridian opened her mouth to form the words, another guttural sob took their place and she could do nothing, but cry over and over. “Oh, God!”

After some time, Meridian was not sure how long, Grace stopped asking for information and just rocked Meridian like an infant, whispering words of assurance into her curls. Every now and then, Grace would place a kiss on her forehead telling her that she was loved and everything would work out alright, but that just made Meridian cry harder.

What felt like hours later (and likely was), only the sounds of Meridian’s whimpering could be heard in the small house. Faithfully, Grace still remained there rocking Meridian while rubbing soothing circles on her back.

“He promised,” Meridian’s voice was hoarse from the crying.

Grace didn’t comment. She just continued her soothing and waited for Meridian to continue.

“He said he would love me forever. He said he would never forget. He lied, he lied, he lied. Oh God, he lied!” The tears began again and Grace sighed.

“He couldn’t have lied, Meridian.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’ve gone five hundred years without a reincarnation summons. That’s five whole centuries in which he remembered you. I do not want to believe that he lied to you. It does not make sense. Something must have happened.”

“He cannot die, Grace. What else could erase me from living memory besides his death?” At her words of the thought of Omar’s possible death, a new wave of sorrow clawed at Meridian’s aching heart.

Grace gave a small shrug and pulled Meridian up so they were looking at each other. “I bet there is a reasonable explanation. Let’s just not worry about it today. How about I tuck you into bed and you try to get to sleep?”

Meridian nodded, teardrops filled with her pain dripping down her face. She latched onto Grace as she pulled off the floor and led to her bedroom. Crawling into bed and pulling a pillow to her chest, ripples ran through her body as she cried harder.

Grace placed a kiss on her forehead with a promise to come back in the morning. Unable to respond, Meridian nodded. She continued to feel waves of panic and sorrow flow throughout the night until she could no longer stay awake. Breathless and exhausted, Meridian fell into a deep, nightmare-filled sleep longing for just one more moment with him to know that what they had was real and not just a figment of her imagination. To know that it was not just a trick of her half-a-millennia-old memory. Just, to know.

It was Meridian’s death day, and, much like the five hundred death days before this one, Meridian had trouble getting out of bed. As if her soul worked on a yearly calendar, she always woke on the anniversary of her death with a nagging ache in her chest — the physical manifestation of a broken heart.

Sometimes she envied those who reincarnated. It was almost a merciful cycle to forget the life you lived before when you could no longer live it. The pain of knowing that things continue to move forward without you could sometimes suffocate even the toughest of souls, especially if there was a crack in the foundation — the heart. And, sure enough, there were tons of tiny cracks in Meridian’s. She supposed the only thing that kept it from falling completely to pieces was to know that Omar still had her on his mind, and, she hoped, in his heart.

This small respite, the certainty that her lover from half a millennia ago had not forgotten her, made all the memories that poked and jabbed at the deepest and most vulnerable parts of her just a bit easier to bear. It was that fact that kept her going and that fact that made it imperative that she not end up in the Netherworld.

So, despite the dull ache that encased her, Meridian got up and prepared for her visit to the Soul Bank. It was a mystery what she was getting herself into. Only desperate souls went to the Soul Bank. With what she was facing, she’d definitely consider herself desperate. She just hoped this would be the answer to her problems.

*

When Meridian reached the Soul Bank, Grace was dutifully waiting for her out front, pacing and muttering to herself about the crazy things she does in the name of friendship. It was true that Grace has done some things for Meridian that would have her considering Grace more than just a friend. There were just some things that once you went through them together, you were family. Meridian made a mental note to add this to the long list of things she owed Grace for.

“Nervous, Grace?” Meridian joked when she was within earshot of the pacing woman.

Grace looked up with a pained expression, her hair whipping in the wind. “Nervous? Why would I be nervous? We’re only going to the shadiest place in the entire afterlife, which is probably frowned upon!”

“Frowned upon, maybe even discouraged, but definitely not against the rules.” Meridian smiled cheekily at Grace who just placed her hands on her hips.

Meridian did understand Grace’s reservations. Souls who utilized the services of the Soul Bank were never quite the same, yet those who had never been in there actually knew what happened within its walls.

She stared up at the two-story, greyish-green stone building. Although it was a rather sunny day, the bank seemed to be shrouded in darkness. It’s only light coming from a bright, white sign that read, “The Soul Bank” in big, bold, red letters. She gave Grace one last look before proceeding up the stairs that led to a large double glass door with intricate green designs around its edges. Grace gave a small whimper as Meridian opened one of the doors.

Inside was more ominous than the outside. It wasn’t as dark, but it was empty. The tan, laminate floor tiles echoed their footsteps as they ventured further into the bank. To the right and left of them were stiff-backed chairs in various shades of brown. Directly in front was a long counter with five stations for tellers, yet not one was occupied.

“Strange. Why is it so empty?” Grace whispered.

“Why hello, dears,” a voice said from behind them. “Welcome to the Soul Bank.”

Grace jumped and grabbed onto Meridian’s arm.

Meridian turned around and came face to face with an older woman who had a large smile pasted onto her grandmotherly face. Meridian’s eyes traveled to her grey, kinky afro before meeting the woman’s eyes housed behind round-edged triangular-shaped mauve eyeglasses. “You must be Hafeeza Crow.”

Hafeeza laughed. “So you’ve heard of me. Not many know me before coming here. What’s wrong with your friend?”

Hafeeza’s eyes traveled to Grace, whose face seemed to be stuck in a silent scream. Meridian elbowed her in the side before answering, “I’ve been asking myself that for years.”

Grace made an offended sound but said nothing as she eyed Hafeeza wearily.

“I assure you, young lady, whatever you may have possibly heard about me is not true.”

“So you don’t suck out the life of unsuspecting souls?” Grace whimpered.

“Grace!”

Hafeeza just chuckled as she waved it off. “No one would be around to tell you that if it was true.”

Grace’s shoulders slumped as she slightly relaxed, but she kept a firm grasp on Meridian’s arm. Meridian side eyed Grace.

“I suppose you are here on some form of business though and this is not some sightseeing tour.” Hafeeza continued, adjusting her patchwork vest that was decorated with pictures of cats.

“Yes, of course. I am in trouble and I think you can help me.”

“Well join me in my office. I’ll see what I can do.”

Hafeeza waved a hand and a polished, wooden staircase appeared on their right leading to a second floor that did not seem accessible anywhere before. Both women followed Hafeeza’s shuffling footsteps up the stairs and into an expansive room with paisley, wallpapered walls. Hafeeza led them around the wooden-railed opening at the landing of the staircase to a door emblazoned with her name in red letter and ushered them inside.

Meridian and Grace took the two chairs in front of Hafeeza’s desk looking at the glass shelves filled with boxes labeled with names that lined the wall behind her desk.

Grace leaned over and whispered in Meridian’s ear. “What do you suppose is in those?”

Meridian shrugged, twiddling her thumbs as Hafeeza took a seat in the regal looking blood red chair behind her desk. It wasn’t until this moment that Meridian wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing. Hafeeza seemed sweet enough, but was Meridian really making the right decision?

Hafeeza adjusted her glasses and folded her hands atop her desk before speaking again. “So, what seems to be the problem you think I can help with?” Her voice was sugary sweet and Meridian almost cringed. It should have put her at ease, but instead, it slightly put her on edge.

“I’m in danger of being sent to the Netherworld.”

Grace grabbed Meridian’s hand and squeezed. She was not much help before, but Meridian was so thankful for her presence now.

“Well, that’s easily fixed with reincarnation. Why come here?”

“I haven’t reincarnated in the 500 years I’ve been here.”

Hafeeza’s eyebrows shot up into her kinky afro before she schooled her expression into one of indifference. “Defective soul or something?”

Meridian bristled. She did not like being referred to as defective. There was nothing defective about her. She was loved, not defective.

“While alive, I fell in love with an immortal man. As long as he remembers me, I cannot reincarnate.” And as long as he still loves me, I don’t want to reincarnate, she added silently.

“You seem to have done okay this long. Why seek me out now?”

Meridian was getting frustrated. She couldn’t imagine why Hafeeza couldn’t just get to the part where they discussed how she was going to save her from a life of misery in hell.

Grace, likely sensing Meridian’s frustration, gave her hand another squeeze.

“I face final judgment in thirty days and I have a declining medium grade soul. Reincarnation is obviously not an option for me.”

“And so you’re looking for help in upgrading your soul?”

“Exactly!”

Hafeeza rubbed her chin thoughtfully while sizing Meridian up. Meridian eyed her back, steeling her nerves so as not to appear afraid. She had no idea what it would take to get Hafeeza Crow to agree to help her. She had no idea what that help would look like. She just knew that she needed it, and she was almost desperate enough to do anything.

“I can help, but it’s going to cost you.”

“Cost me what?” Meridian’s palms were sweaty as she wondered what Hafeeza would want as payment. The afterlife didn’t necessarily have a currency.

“You see these here?” Hafeeza gestured to the boxes behind her. “These are deposits made by the souls who venture into my domain. Should you agree to my terms, you, too, will be on this wall. I’d just like to warn you of this: from the little you’ve told me, you’d need to pay a hefty deposit.”

“But what will it cost? What is in the boxes?” Grace leaned forward, her curiosity making her insert herself into the conversation.

“Curious one, isn’t she?” Hafeeza chuckled before she dramatically slapped her hands flat on her desk and said in a sinister voice that starkly contrasted the sugary sweet voice from earlier. “Memories!”

Meridian flinched and Grace gasped, leaning back in her chair. Neither of them was particularly sure what that meant, but Meridian already felt a sense of foreboding that seemed to fill her lungs and made it hard to breathe.

“Memories?”

“Yes. It’s quite simple, really. Just as the memories of those that are alive keep you tethered to your current soul. The memories you hold keep you tethered as well. What’s purer than a clean slate?”

“So you just wipe the memories of souls who need a higher soul grade? And Commissioner Dotan just allows this?” Grace asked, incredulously.

Hafeeza arched an eyebrow at Grace’s mentioning of the commissioner. “Michael is powerful, but he isn’t the only powerful soul in the afterlife. Besides,” she gave another chuckle, “I’m his mother.”

Meridian turned to look at Grace whose mouth was opened in the shape of an ‘O’.

“Grace, you’re crushing my hand.”

Shaking her hand that Grace finally let go of, Meridian turned back to Hafeeza. Many questions were running through her mind, but one was more important to her than all the rest.

“Would you have to take all of my memories?”

“In some circumstances, I would not have to, but, again, your case seems to need a hefty payment. To be safe, none of your memories should linger.”

“So, I wouldn’t be me?”

“I don’t like this, Meridian,” Grace spoke up, reclaiming Meridian’s hand once again.

“Many don’t like this, but once it’s over, the memories are gone anyway. What would they know or care?” Hafeeza hunched her shoulders in a shrug, then waved her hand, in which a contract materialized. “All you have to do is sign on the line and I can make sure you never see the Netherworld.”

With another wave of Hafeeza’s hand, a pen rested in Meridian’s hand that was free of Grace’s fierce hold. Meridian looked between Hafeeza’s eager face and the contract laid out in front of her.

“I understand what losing these memories does for me, but what does gaining them do for you?”

“Never you mind that. Let me worry about what I’ll do with your deposit once it’s mine. Are you in or out?”

“Meridian,” Grace tugged at her sleeve. “I don’t really like this, but she does kind of make sense. Once the memories are gone, you’ll have the soul grade to withstand final judgment and stay here. What do you have to lose?”

“Omar,” Meridian whispered.

“What?” Grace asked.

“I’d lose Omar. If I sign this, I won’t remember him. I won’t know who he is. I won’t love him.”

“But you can’t be with him now anyway, Meridian. Is that really a loss?”

Meridian’s eyes glistened as she contemplated what forgetting Omar would mean for her. She knew Grace didn’t fully understand what Omar meant to her. Grace was left suffering her own heartbreak daily after final judgment and would probably jump at the opportunity to just forget.

It was not like that for Meridian, though. Her love for Omar kept her going every day in the afterlife. Sure there were days not being able to hold him again were difficult, but just knowing that he still remembered her 500 years later was enough to sustain her.

“I can’t.”

“Are you sure?” Hafeeza inched the contract closer to Meridian’s pen-wielding hand.

“No, I’m not, but I — just no.”

Meridian dropped the pen on the desk and stood up, pulling Grace up with her. Both the contract and pen disappeared as Hafeeza crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

“Very well. Just know that I will not extend this offer again. When your thirty days come to an end, you will find yourself in the Netherworld.”

Not bothering to respond, Meridian pulled Grace out of the office. Grace hurried behind Meridian and did not say anything until they were well done the street from the bank.

“Meridian, slow down, please.”

Meridian slowed her pace but did not stop walking. She did not know where she was going, but there was an ache in her chest that made her not want to stop because if she did she would break apart.

So, she had no intention of stopping, but Grace dug in her heels and pulled on Meridian’s arm so that Meridian whipped around and was engulfed in a hug by Grace. That was all it took for the floodgates to open and Meridian fell apart in Grace’s embrace.

Grace rubbed soothing circles on her back and kept whispering into Meridian’s hair, “That’s it. Let it out.”

“What am I going to do, Grace?” Meridian wailed. She didn’t actually intend for Grace to answer her. She just needed to get the words out. “That was my chance and I couldn’t because I love him. How could I be so stupid?”

“Oh honey, you’re not stupid. You’re in love.” Grace cupped Meridian’s chin in one hand and wiped her tears with her other hand. “We will just have to find another way.”

“But there is no other way!”

“We don’t know that.”

“Except that we do.”

“Meridian King! I will not allow you to give up yet. We still have twenty-eight and a half days and I intend to use every single one of them to find a solution. So have your cry and then, get it together.”

Staring at Grace and thanking the universe for putting such a supportive soul into her life, Meridian sucked in a breath and forced a small smile on her face. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“My house. We have some planning to do.”

Both women linked arms and continued walking down the street. Meridian felt a little better, but it did not stop her from feeling the Atlas-like burden that sunk a little deeper on her shoulders. There had to be something that she could do, and she was going to figure it out.

Throughout her work day, Meridian could not help but feel as if everyone could tell the quality of her soul just by looking at her. It was as if she had a big sign strung around her neck saying, “Medium-grade and declining,” and everyone was staring at it.

The two newly dead souls she met today did not get the best tour experience from her and she could tell by the way, Dan Anderson, a former waiter in his late twenties with rough features and sapphire blue eyes, kept saying, “Is this all?” to everything she showed him about what the afterlife had to offer that it’d be a miracle if she convinced him to stay at all. Jose Martin, an older gentleman in his early sixties, who died on his couch being yelled at by his wife, just smiled and nodded while tugging at his unkempt reddish-brown beard the entire tour.

Even when they returned back to the Limbo Building, where she turned them over to a Transition Steward to handle the paperwork for their entrance into the transitional program, Meridian could not get two things off of her mind: one, Commissioner Dotan was once in the Netherworld; and two, she was likely headed there in the next thirty days.

Meridian sunk into the seat of her desk, which was covered in crumpled Afterlife brochures and papers with the names of all the souls she’d converted in the last month. She let out a frustrated cry, sounding more like a choking gurgle than the justified anger she felt and banged her fist on the desk. The other souls in the office stopped their conversations to look at her before shrugging it off and carrying on with their own business. It wasn’t the first time Meridian was in a bad mood.

It just wasn’t fair, though. Meridian was a good soul. Sure, she wasn’t always on time and she lacked a bit of responsibility, but she cared and she loved fully. That had to count for something. She spent the last five hundred years loving Omar and, now, his everlasting memory of her, a promise he made on her deathbed, was the reason she’d have to leave her home, her friends. It was a raw deal, but even in this moment of distress, just the thought of Omar made her heart tingle.

“Care to explain your mood?” a disembodied voice asked from the other side of the wall of the cubicle.

“You got time? This could take awhile.”

Her cubicle neighbor and friend, Grace Burton, popped her head over the dividing wall and pursed her red painted lips. “Tomorrow is your death day and you have a ’tude. Something tells me you had your meeting with the commissioner already.” She folded her arms across the dividing wall and leaned in. “So tell me about it.”

“Grace, it’s worse than I ever imagined.”

Grace let out a little puff of air and waved dismissively. “You say this every year, and every year turns out just fine.”

“Not this time,” Meridian shook her head, trying her best to give Grace her ‘this is serious’ look. “I don’t have much time left.”

“What do you mean you don’t have much time left?”

“Keep your voice down, would you?”

Meridian took a look around the office to see most other souls still engaged in their own conversations. While it was no secret that Meridian had not reincarnated (it was weekly watercooler gossip), she didn’t want anyone else to know about her doomed fate. It was embarrassing. She embarrassed herself enough on her own, so she did not need the technicalities of soul improvement to make her impending eternity in hell the talk of the Limbo Building.

“My voice is as quiet as it’s going to get. What do you want me to do? Speak to you with my eyes?”

“Grace!”

“Okay, okay!” Grace held her hands up and lowered her voice an octave. “How about this? Low enough?”

“I’m going to the Netherworld, Grace.”

“Well, why the hell would you go and do that? No pun intended.”

“Well, why the hell would you go and do that?” Meridian mocked. “Oh, I don’t know. I just thought it’d be a great idea to celebrate my five hundred and first death day by floating up the Styx to chill with the good old pal, Satan! Grace, you’re not listening!”

“I’m trying to, but you’re kind of awful at explaining what’s wrong. Just tell me what the commissioner said. It can’t possibly be as bad as you’re making it seem.”

Meridian rolled her eyes. “He said my soul grade is declining and I have thirty days to get it into shape or I’m being shipped out to the Netherworld for the rest of my existence.”

Grace let out a low whistle. “Whoa.”

“You’re telling me. And, get this, there likely isn’t any way that I could improve my soul grade without reincarnating. It’s just not fair!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Meridian’s eyes widened at Grace’s apparent lack of loyalty. “Come again?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s unfair,” she adjusted her arms on the dividing wall. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Meridian. You’ve been giving tours to newly dead souls for years and you tell them about the soul rules, reincarnation, and everything. You knew. You’ve had five hundred years of a head start to figure this out. Any responsible adult would have been looking for ways to upgrade their soul ages ago.”

Leave it to Grace to be rational in Meridian’s time of despair. When not in a state of panic, it was one of the many reasons Meridian liked Grace so much, but sometimes Meridian just wanted someone to be dramatic with her.

“When have you ever known me to be a responsible adult?” It was a joke between them that Meridian was like Grace’s child at times. It wasn’t that Meridian was reckless, but she was a bit short sighted, much to the annoyance of Grace, who, even while complaining, would help Meridian out of any bind if it was within her power to do so.

“There was that time when you — oh wait, no. That was Marge. Well, how about the time — no, nevermind. That was Peter.” Meridian gave Grace a triumphant smirk before Grace continued, “point still stands, Meridian. You’ve had time.”

Annoyed, Meridian folded her arms across her chest and let out a huff of air. She was sure she looked like a child, but Meridian did not care. Did Grace not understand that the Netherworld was stalking Meridian and before either of them knew it, she’d be snatched up within its clutches, never to be seen again? She could not possibly understand, because if she did, she would have spared Meridian her very valid point.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side, but what is it that you’re expecting me to say?”

Meridian turned her head so that Grace was no longer in her line of vision. She didn’t want to see Grace’s face when she said what was on her mind. “You’ve already had your final judgment. What worries do you have?”

“That’s not fair,” Grace whispered.

It was as if the entire room became filled with Meridian’s guilt. She knew she shouldn’t have said it and the traces of hurt in Grace’s voice confirmed it. Meridian already went down that road though and in her anger (or was this envy), she could not stop the next words that tumbled out of her lips.

“Now you’re worried about what’s fair? I live every day of my life here, remembering a love I can never have again, which hurts every fiber of my being, while simultaneously being told that because of this love I’m going to hell. You just wouldn’t understand.”

“It’s not all kicks and giggles on this side either, you know? Being reincarnated, I mean."

"Oh sure. How awful it must be to have the opportunity to improve your soul so you're not in danger of being sent to the Netherworld. My mistake."

Grace let out a frustrated sigh. " We’re born again in a new body with all the memories of our old lives, but as that new body grows those memories begin to fade until the soul we once were no longer exists. When we die again and come here, we’re here every day remembering the people we left behind, knowing that once we reincarnate again, we’ll eventually forget them. It’s not even like they’re a memory. They just simply don’t exist to us. So yes, I’ve had my final judgment, but did I ever tell you how I died the last time?”

Meridian shook her head, remaining silent. She had never asked Grace how she died, and she felt slightly guilty for never thinking about it before. She'd been so consumed in her own issues, she never considered that Grace may have her own burdens she was holding onto. Meridian wasn't about to admit that out loud though.

“I died during childbirth, Meridian. I will never hold my baby and my baby will never know me. That is the death I will remember since reincarnation and judgment are no longer factors for me. I’ll be living my own personal hell right here for eternity.”

“Grace, I —”

“No Meridian, don’t. You’re upset and I know you didn’t mean it. You’re right. I don’t know what this is like and I have no idea what the Netherworld is like. I don’t imagine anyone here does.”

Meridian perked up at this and a conspiratorial smile grew upon her lips. “I didn’t even tell you the craziest part about this.”

“I can’t even imagine how this could get any crazier.”

“Commissioner Dotan was in the underworld before.”

“What?!”

“Shhh! Keep your voice down!”

“Sorry, but what?!”

Grace’s normally cool features were marred by what Meridian could only assume to be confliction. It was no secret to Meridian that Grace admired the commissioner and this bit of gossip had to shock her. If Meridian were being honest with herself, it almost made her feel a bit better to knock the commissioner down a peg in Grace’s eyes.

“He told me himself.”

“But that’s great news!”

It was Meridian’s turn to be surprised. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Don’t you see Meridian? If the commissioner was able to redeem himself, so can you! And he gave us this information with thirty days to figure it out! So maybe you won’t be going to the Netherworld after all.”

“Okay, first of all, he wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t ask him, so the praise should go to me. And second of all, what do you mean ‘us’?”

“You didn’t think I was going to leave you to figure this out on your own, did you?”

“I just thought after I said those things, you’d …” Meridian trailed off and looked at her hands balled up in her lap.

“Oh, don’t be stupid. You need me.”

“You’re right. I do.” Meridian looked back at Grace and smiled gratefully. Only Grace could easily forgive Meridian after she made a royal idiot of herself, and only Grace could make Meridian’s problems her own. Bless her soul, literally. “Where would we even begin?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Where is the one place we can go and get any type of information we need on souls? The only place that could even possibly help us upgrade your soul?”

Meridian drummed her fingers on her desk. There was a place she was thinking of, but she couldn’t imagine Grace would be that bold. Although, this was a desperate time. Pushing rationality to the far corners of her mind, Meridian called out, “the Soul Bank!” just as Grace impatiently said, “the library!”

“What?!” Grace whisper yelled. She reached across the barrier to lightly slap Meridian’s arm. “How could you even think I would mean that?”

“I’m thinking I need a higher soul grade and what better place to upgrade than a bank?”

“This is a bad idea,” Grace’s voice had that tone she took whenever she was at her wit’s end with Meridian.

“Are you helping me or not?”

“Of course, I’m going to help you, but I’m not promising to not complain along the way.”

“Fair enough. What time are you off today?”

“You want to go today? We haven’t planned what you’re going to say or do when we get there. We don’t even know what exactly we’re looking for. I heard Hafeeza Crow is particularly cunning. You must be prepared.”

“She can’t be that bad. She’s here in the afterlife.”

“So are you.”

“Et tu, Grace?”

“You’ve been talking to Julius again, haven’t you? He never gets tired of telling that story.”

“Stop changing the subject, Grace.”

Grace nibbled on her lip and ran her fingers through her wavy, black hair. Tugging on her sleeve, she conceded. “Tomorrow, and I’m not budging on that.”

“Fine. Tomorrow. Oh, and Grace?”

Sounding mildly irritated, Grace responded, “What?”

“Thanks!”

Meridian flashed her a smile and Grace returned it before plunking back down in her seat, disappearing behind the wall that separated their cubicles. It was souls like Grace that made living in the afterlife worth it. Not having Omar was tough, but knowing that she still had the ability to remember him made her just a bit thankful, even if she could possibly be going to hell.

Meridian was late. Not that this was the first time. However, she needed just a moment to collect herself before she was subjected to the annual judgment of the grade of her soul, which, much to her chagrin, had remained medium-grade for the last five hundred years of her time in the afterlife.

It was very inconsiderate of the council to hold these meetings on the eve of a person's death day. Meridian could be out doing almost anything else, like celebrating, sleeping, or eating at the nice cafe that sold the little donut holes with strawberry frosting, no sprinkles. Yet, here she was, adjusting the twisted skirt of her yellow cotton dress before she walked into the waiting room of the council's office, housed conveniently in the Limbo Building where Meridian worked as a tour guide for newly dead souls.

Commissioner Dotan stood waiting just outside his door with his arms crossed and a frown on his heavily lined face. She'd seen him look this way countless times over the years and she still had not learned her lesson about punctuality. "Ms. King, even in the afterlife we have things to do. Would it kill you to be on time?"

Meridian gave a sheepish grin. "Already dead, Commissioner."

With a scowl, he pointed her into his office and motioned for Meridian to take a seat in front of his massive desk. Once seated, Commissioner Dotan began typing on his computer, eying Meridian every so often as he worked, likely pulling up her massive file. The silence was better than what Meridian knew was coming. She'd much rather sit here for a bit and listen to the clacking of the keys than to hear the commissioner tell her about her subpar soul.

So, Meridian waited patiently, taking in the office that did not change much in the many years she'd been coming here. Atop the commissioner's desk to the left of his computer was a shiny, gold basketball trophy, which still puzzled Meridian, even after all this time. Had he been a basketball player? She didn't think so, and there never seemed to be an appropriate time to ask him either. The only time they ever really interacted was during meetings like this.

She eyed his nameplate that read, "Michael Dotan, Commissioner" in shiny gold letters before her eyes were captured by a domed glass case, to the computer's right, in which floated the Soul Scrolls. The most important artifact in the entire afterlife and the commissioner had it just sitting there on his desk. The Soul Scrolls kept a record of the grade of every soul in the universe, alive or dead. Meridian reached out her fingers, hoping just to graze the glass. She'd seen it many times before, but there was just an aura about it that she could not ignore. Something about it kept calling out to her to touch it.

"Don't touch that," the commissioner admonished without looking away from the computer. He had stopped typing a while ago, and he was now looking intently at his computer screen, the skin between his brow creasing more and more with each scroll of his mouse.

"I just —"

"I know. You were tempted, but impulse control, Ms. King! Do you even know why you're in here?"

Meridian recoiled her fingers and placed both hands flat on her lap, feeling scolded like a child. She didn't see the harm in touching the glass. "I do."

"So, I see no point in holding it off any longer. Let's get on with it, shall we?"

She nodded and looked at the commissioner who continued to scroll through what must be five hundred years worth of information on Meridian. Sometimes it was hard to fathom five hundred years of life (or not life?).

Commissioner Dotan looked up at Meridian, cleared his throat, and steepled his fingers. "As you know Ms. King, you are in our transitional program here in the afterlife and you have been for quite some time. Usually, our transitional program is only for a hundred years, give or take a few, but you've been here five times that. Now I know you have an unusual set of circumstances that prevent you from moving beyond this point —"

"Yes, yes. When I was alive, I fell in love with an immortal man named Omar Rhodes and he said he'd never forget me, so I still exist in his living memory."

"I'm well aware of your situation, Ms. King. Had you let me finish, you would have known that. As I was saying, here in the afterlife, permanent residence can only be granted to high-grade souls and soul improvement happens through reincarnation. As it stands, you can only be reincarnated as long as you no longer exist in living memory. And this is where you have your dilemma. It will be virtually impossible for you to improve your soul to the grade we require here for permanent residence without reincarnation. Each time a soul is reincarnated, new lessons are learned and new experiences are gained. This knowledge, this experience increases the grade of the soul. It is only through this method that a soul improves and becomes the standard we've come to expect here in the afterlife. With your beau being immortal, your memory will live on forever."

"What are you saying, Commissioner?"

"You're reaching the end of the time we can allow for you to stay here in the transitional program. Eventually, and by eventually I mean soon, you will be officially judged."

"And what do you mean by that? What happens then?"

Commissioner Dotan sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling before continuing. "Should you not have the required soul grade, you can no longer remain here."

Meridian tugged at a curl as she contemplated the commissioner's words. I can no longer live here? Where else could I possibly go? "But what does that even mean?"

"It means, Ms. King, that should things play out the way they have been since you arrived here, you will be sent to the Netherworld to live out the rest of eternity."

"But that's not fair! I can't help that I can't be reincarnated!"

"Fair? You've been given five hundred years to improve your soul, Ms. King. I think that's more than fair."

"You said it yourself, Commissioner Dotan. It's virtually impossible to improve a soul without reincarnation. And you have to admit, I'm not that bad. I'm medium-grade, right?"

The commissioner gave Meridian a severe look. It was a look that told her what she was about to hear was significantly worse than anything he'd said previously. "Ms. King, you are correct. You are a medium-grade soul."

"Why do I feel like you're about to burst my bubble?"

"Ms. King, unlike the other souls here in the afterlife, your grade is declining. You're not the first soul to come here after falling in love with an immortal. I swear, they cause such trouble for us."

"So there are others?" Meridian smiled, feeling a tiny ounce of hope tugging at her heart.

"There are others, Ms. King, but they're all in the Netherworld now."

"You could have led with that, you know? So, basically, there's no hope for me."

"Well, of course, there's hope, Ms. King. This is the afterlife, after all. Where would any of us be without faith?"

"Can I cash in some faith for improvement on my soul?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't quite work that way."

"I still don't get it," Meridian cried, exasperated. "I am a good soul! I do what I'm supposed to do. I'm great at my job. I converted three limbo souls just last week. That must count for something. You can't possibly think judging me on things outside of my control is really fair."

By this point, Meridian had vacated her seated position and was pacing back and forth in front of the commissioner's desk. Every year the meeting with Commissioner Dotan was stressful, but this year turned out to be the absolute worst.

"We're only judging your soul, Ms. King. You've had five hundred years to improve it. That's a lot more than many other souls get."

"According to what you've said, it doesn't matter if I had a thousand years or even a million years because any soul like me — you know the ones, with lovers still alive on earth — gets a one-way ticket to hell. What a crappy way to reward eternal love — damnation!"

"Are you insinuating that you love for reward, Ms. King?" Commissioner Dotan began typing on his computer again, and Meridian began to panic.

"No! I am not. I still love him immensely. I just — I didn't think loving him would cause such a mess when I died. Had I known..."

"Yes?" He leaned forward, still typing.

"Nothing," Meridian sighed and ran her hand down her face. "Had I known, I would have still been with him and loved him because he meant — he means everything to me."

"Love has a way of costing us when we least expect it. We just have to decide if it is worth the price."

"He's worth it." Meridian sat back down and placed her head in hands. "How much time do I have?"

The commissioner typed a few things and then began scrolling before looking grave. "Thirty days."

Meridian gasped. "That's it? How could I possibly — is there any way I could possibly have more time?"

"I'm afraid I cannot give you any more time."

"But you're the commissioner. You hold the Soul Scrolls. You can do anything."

"Ms. King, just because I have the power to do anything doesn't mean that I should. There are rules set in place. Laws that we've established and we abide by. It keeps order."

"Well, if you made them, then you can certainly change them."

Commissioner Dotan shook his head, his lips forming a straight line.

"Well, what do I do then?"

"I suggest getting your affairs in order. In the meantime, business as usual. I believe you have a shift starting in a few minutes."

Meridian was incredulous. "You want me to work after this?"

"Well, you're a good soul, aren't you? You always do what you're supposed to."

"Low blow, Commissioner."

"I assure you it wasn't intended to be," the commissioner stood up and walked around his desk. He placed a hand on Meridian's shoulder and squeezed. "It's just that even in our times of anguish, we should do the right thing. What you give of yourself can multiply into a collective positive consequence."

"Easy for the guy with the permanent spot in the afterlife to say."

He chuckled and let go of her shoulder. "The newly dead souls await, Ms. King."

"Yeah, I know. Alright." Meridian rose from her seat, legs feeling like two masses of lead. She headed for the door and just as she touched the doorknob, she turned back around. "Commissioner, tell me please, has anyone ever come back from the Netherworld. I mean, is it possible?"

There was a twinkle in his eye as he seemed to mull over her question. He stroked his gray beard, eyes boring into Meridian's before he answered. "Yes. Once. A long, long time ago."

"Really?" Meridian just knew if she could just find this person and ask them what to do, she could possibly figure out how to solve her dilemma. There was no way Meridian could go to the Netherworld. And, if she did happen to go, there was no way she could stay there. She wasn't the greatest soul in the universe, but she wasn't the worst either. "Who?"

The commissioner's lips twitched. He eyed Meridian for a few seconds longer, making this a game of patience. It was as if he could read her anxiety and took pleasure in making her wait for his answer. Meridian, although not a punctual person, was not a patient person. Had he been anyone else, she would have cursed or begged for him to say something. In her current circumstance, she thought better of it.

Just when Meridian was certain he wasn't going to tell her and they were just going to continue this awkward staring contest, the commissioner uttered the one word she never thought would answer her question.

"Me."

I woke up drenched in sweat, and reached to the other side of the bed hoping to feel Hadley beside me. The space to my left was cold and empty. He had never been here. This wasn’t our bed. I blinked my eyes a few times to adjust to the darkness of the room that didn’t belong to me and quietly scolded myself. “Get a grip, Seph. This is your life now.”

In a desperate need to move, even if it was only among the halls of this house, I threw my legs over the side of the bed, untangling from the comforter in a swift motion, and tiptoed to the dark, quiet corridor. I moved deftly through the halls, as if I had been walking them all my life and as if my feet had a destination my mind did not know of. I walked until I could hear the distinct sounds of arguing behind a closed door. I knew I should have found my way back to my room, but my curiosity got the best of me and my feet remained firmly planted.

“You can’t seriously think of telling Melanie this now, Demetri! She has her finals coming up! This can wait!” I heard June say.

“I have to tell her, though. Can’t you understand that? I – we’ve been waiting twelve years for this and it happened. We found her,” Demetri responded in a calm voice. There was a hint of desperation in his voice, as if speaking in that tone would make his wife see reason. I knew in that moment they were arguing about me, but I had no idea why. Who was Melanie?

“I strictly forbid it.” I could just imagine June crossing her arms across her ample chest and narrowing her eyes at Demetri the way she has been doing for the last week since I came to stay with them. This couldn’t be easy on her, but I’m sure it wasn’t easy on him either. Hell, this was hard for all of us.

“Who are you to decide what’s best for Melanie?” I had the distinct feeling that Demetri’s next question would lead to disaster.

“She is my – ”

“She is not your daughter!” Demetri cut her off in an unexpected yell.

I heard a large intake of breath and I wasn’t sure whether it was June’s or mine, but I backed away from the door and hurried down the stairs before I witnessed the dissolution of their marriage.

“This is not your fault. This is not your fault. This is not your fault,” I whispered to myself as my feet carried me to the kitchen in a hurried pace. I felt around the wall for the light switch, struggling to do away with the darkness with much needed light.

I slid down the wall as the light surrounded me, saddened that the light did not pierce through the dark spaces in my mind where my memories should have been held. I had a daughter? The thought made me buckle over in agony. That couldn’t be right. My vision blurred and I took in a sharp breath, willing myself not to crumble. Not here. Not in plain sight.

I could hear two pairs of footsteps in the stairwell. One sounded to be running after the other. The front door opened and slammed shut with such force that the walls of the house shook. I attempted to will myself to get up and make a run for it, but my limbs felt heavy like cinder blocks, so I sat there breathing deeply and attempting to dispel the pain.

“Cora?” a soft, wavering voice called to me.

“Please don’t call me that,” I said, my voice just above a whisper and fresh with the burden of unshed tears.

“Oh, right.” June clumsily knelt before me and I could see the evidence of her previous argument with Demetri in the tear trails stained on her cheeks. “You heard us, huh?”

I ignored her question and asked her one of my own. “I have a daughter?”

June pursed her lips and ran her fingers through her springy brown hair, which looked a lot like mine. In fact, a lot of June’s features mirrored my own, but there was no relation between us. She had almond shaped hazel eyes, sepia colored skin, and plump lips that I’ve only seen smile in pictures – never in my presence. It was like looking in a mirror, but maybe that’s why Demetri married her. She looked like me. I quickly rid myself of that thought. He loves his wife.

After what felt like forever, June released a sigh and with a dismissing sweep of her hand, which contradicted the pain in her eyes, she answered with a simple, “Yes.”

The tears I’d been holding spilled as if a levee had broken and I could feel her tense next to me as I let out a strangled, “How?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot how babies are made too?” She joked awkwardly and looked as if she instantly regretted her words. I flinched and she put a small hand on my shoulder as if in apology.

“No,” I answered quietly although I knew her question didn’t need a response, “I just don’t remember this life you’re telling me I lived. How could a mother forget her own child?”

Silence hung in the room, only punctuated by my occasional sniffle or June’s overwhelmed sigh. “I’ll make us some tea.” June said after a while, uncharacteristically reaching a hand out to me and pulling me to my feet. She led me to the island in the middle of the kitchen, made sure I was sitting properly on one of the stools, and then busied herself with the chore of making tea.

Her back was to me and I watched her move as if this was a common occurrence. As if the first and second wife of a man normally live together and have tea in the late hours of the night. As if that first wife, presumably dead after being missing for twelve years and miraculously found with retrograde amnesia and no other family, was a welcome guest in the second wife’s house, in her kitchen, sipping her tea. I felt like I owed her something. Some consolation for this unfortunate predicament she found herself in and I suppose that’s why the next words came out of my mouth. “I don’t remember loving him, you know?”

June halted briefly with a tea kettle under the running faucet; she was stiff as a board besides the almost imperceptible shaking of her hand. As if nothing was said, she finished filling the kettle, turned off the faucet, and placed the kettle on one of the gas burners of the stainless-steel stove. She grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet directly above her head, the only evidence of her uneasiness in the clinking of the mugs together in a steady pattern, and sat across from me. She looked me in my eyes, hazel matching hazel, and gave me a rare, watery smile. “He remembers loving you though.”

I winced. I wasn’t expecting that response. I expected a brief nod, or even a punch in the face, but not this. It sounded like defeat. It sounded as if June was accepting the fact that her husband loved another woman as much, if not more, than he loved her. I could not accept that. Her acceptance meant that eventually I would have to accept this too. “June, no. He can’t. I need to get back to Hadley. I know he’s looking for me. He’s got to be.”

June’s face became a mask mixed with pity and anger. “Hadley is dead Cor – um, Sephina. Your captor is dead.”

Her words cut deep and I could no longer look into her eyes. I stared above her head at the thick green border that outlined the cream-colored walls of the kitchen. I would have much rather preferred the punch in the face to this. Hadley was the only anchor I had to a sense of belonging in this world and she was trying to rip him away from me. She must have wanted me to hurt as much as she hurt. I was taking her husband away from her, so she was going to take Hadley away from me.

I shuddered, clapping a hand over my mouth, trying to contain the sob that threatened to escape beyond my lips. I braved a look back at June and her eyes were like fiery orbs of determination. She was going to break me. Her eyes searched mine for something, but I had no idea what. “You really don’t remember?”

Her question hung in the air like smog threatening to suffocate me. Remember. It was a word Demetri would say to me every day, thrusting old photos of our life together in my face as if the darkness in my mind would somehow be wiped away by his persistence. What did it even mean to remember? If I remembered him, our marriage, our life, what would that change? Would the last twelve years of loving Hadley just disappear and be filled with love for Demetri? What about June? How would she fit into all of this?

I could hear June tapping her perfectly manicured fingers on the green tile of the island and could feel her eyes sizing me up. I was sure they were narrowed the way she narrows them at Demetri. I chanced another look at her and could see the mosaic of shame, pity, neglect, anger, and frustration clinging to her normally smooth features. I had caused that.

“I deserved that,” I mumbled, closing my eyes and letting out a breath.

I needed a break and as if God still looked out for me, the tea kettle began to whistle. June hopped off her stool and moved the kettle off the burner. As if the awkward conversation between us had not just occurred, June turned to me, kettle still in hand.

“How do you like your tea?”

I never did answer her. I simply stumbled off my stool, backed away from June, and hurried back to the safety of the darkness in my borrowed bedroom. I could still faintly hear the clinging of the mugs as I burrowed into the comforter, pulling a pillow close to my chest, and sobbing until the pillow was soaked with my grief. Eventually, there were no more tears left to shed, and I hiccoughed, dry sobbing until my eyes were puffy red, my throat was dry, and my eyes so heavy that sleep claimed me.

Demetri did not return until the next morning and he was not alone. “Cora,” he shook me softly, his voice having the distinct timbre that let me know he was smiling before I even opened my eyes. “It’s time to wake up. Someone special is here to see you.”

I winced, but I did not correct him when he called me by that name. It was the name that he knew me by. It was the name of the woman he married twenty-five years ago, at the age of eighteen and fresh out of high school. Who was I to correct him? He was a stranger to me, yet he felt as if he knew me. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that woman died twelve years ago.

I opened my eyes and peered beyond Demetri to the open door. Leaning in the doorway with disapproving eyes was June. “I already know June,” I huffed, pulling the comforter over my head.

“No, not her,” Demetri admonished. I could hear the patience leaving his voice. “Your visitor is in the kitchen.” He pulled the covers from over my head and smiled down at me reassuringly. I heard June let out a frustrated puff of air and walk away. I wanted to call out to her, but my voice got caught somewhere in my throat, so I was left staring up into the chestnut colored orbs of Demetri.

“Must I?” I had a feeling who this visitor might be and my mind raced with how this encounter might go.

Demetri simply nodded. It was far too much way too soon, but the earnest look in his eyes made me want to please him. It was the same way Hadley would look at me when he was trying to convince me to go along with one of his crazy get-rich-quick schemes. One look like that – like I was the only woman in the world that could make his sun rise – and I was putty in his hands. It was strange to realize that Demetri could do this too.

Much to my chagrin, I found myself getting out of bed and looking for something to throw on. Demetri nodded at me once more encouragingly before telling me to hurry downstairs once I finished dressing.

I opened the closet and looked at all the clothes there. None of them were mine, but somehow Demetri convinced June to allow me to borrow a few pieces of clothing until I had some of my own. He must have given her the look he just gave me. At that thought, I wanted to hate him. How dare he do this me? Do this to us? I angrily pulled a gray, cable-knit sweater over my head and stuffed myself into a pair of jeans. I opted for going barefoot.

I marched out of the room, preparing to give Demetri a piece of my mind for putting June and me through this. I padded down the stairs and turned the corner to the kitchen ready to tell him so when I heard a strangled cry. “Mom?!”

Freezing in place as a body collided with mine and wrapped arms around me, I stared into a mane of frizzy brown curls. My arms remained by my side and my heart thumped wildly in my chest. The young woman nuzzled into the crook of my neck as I awkwardly stood wide eyed and afraid. I could see Demetri smiling and June frowning. My eyes caught June’s and I silently pleaded with her for help.

“How about you let her have a seat for breakfast, Mel?” June surprisingly obliged my silent plea, placing a loving hand on the young woman’s back, who was just confirmed to be my daughter Melanie.

I heard Demetri suck his teeth at June’s interruption of the reunion, but I flashed her a grateful smile as I forced myself to move beyond the threshold of the kitchen. I was far from hungry, but I sat at the glass table situated on the right side of the kitchen with Melanie eager to sit next to me. I eyed her warily, not sure what she knew. She could have just as well been June’s daughter as she was mine. The only feature she did not share were the hazel eyes; she had chestnut colored eyes like her father.

“Um, hello,” I said nervously. What was a woman to say to a daughter she didn’t remember?

Melanie frowned and she turned to her father, questions on her face threatening to spill out, but she had enough grace not to ask them out loud. I stared ahead at June, who sat directly across from me. I could see the pain on her face as she watched realization dawn on the face of the daughter she raised as her own.

“You don’t remember me,” Melanie whispered. Her voice had the watery quality that could sink my heart. I ached for her. I wanted to reach out and touch her, comfort her, let her know things would be okay, but it didn’t seem appropriate for me to do so. Did I even know that? Would things ever be okay?

I turned my head slightly and frowned at Demetri. His everlasting grin slowly faded and his brows furrowed. How dare he do this? June snaked her hand across the table and soothingly rubbed Melanie’s hand that rested on the table. A mix of emotions plagued the young woman’s face, similar to the ones that her stepmother and I had felt over the past week. Somehow witnessing the pain on this young woman’s face made the hurt, confusion, and frustration much worse. I hung my head, willing myself not to cry.

“How about you and Mel go in the living room for some alone time, Cora?” Demetri suggested.

My head snapped up and I glared at him. “Don’t call me that.”

I had never corrected him before and the surprise was evident in his eyes. “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

The question was simple, but it made me pause. Is that really my name? For the last twelve years, or for as long as I could remember, I was Sephina. That is what Hadley told me my name was when I awoke from the yearlong coma I was in. He was there for me when there was no Demetri, June, or Melanie. Yet, here they were now in my face.

Demetri had the photos to prove his version of my life’s history; Hadley was never able to produce such evidence. However, I loved and trusted Hadley with everything I had and now he was gone.

I shut my eyes tight and tried to stifle the sob that was threatening to pierce the tense atmosphere. Hadley was gone.

“Demetri, maybe this is too much too soon,” June offered, still rubbing Melanie’s hand.

“Damnit June! This has nothing to do with you! This is not your family!” As soon as he said it, I could tell he wished he could gobble those words up.

He looked at his wife, her beautiful features crumbling by the weight of the many feelings she’d been harboring since my arrival. She abruptly stood up and walked evenly out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I heard a door slam and felt my heart ache for June.

This was my fault.

Demetri ran after her, calling her name in a voice dripping with remorse. He loves his wife.

Melanie and I sat next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, in a weird, yet comfortable silence. I’d sneak glances at her and I knew she was doing the same to me. Her parents’ relationship was in shambles because of me and I must have been radiating guilt.

“This is not your fault you know.” Melanie turned to me, with eyes filled with a wisdom that seemed unnatural for such a young woman. “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“How could you possibly know that I –”

“Because I would blame myself.” She answered me before I could even finish my question. “I used to blame myself for you disappearing.”

My breath hitched and I clinched my hands into fists. “I should go,” I said abruptly, staring at the glass tabletop. “I can’t be who you need me to be.” I stood up to leave, hesitating only slightly as Melanie’s chest heaved up and down as silent tears slid down her cheek.

I was almost across the threshold when I heard her call, “Then let me be who you need me to be.”

I stopped, frozen in place much like I was when I first heard her call me mom. “What?”

“Let me be who you need me to be,” she repeated, rising from her lonely spot at the abandoned table. “You may not be able to be the mom I haven’t seen since I was eight years old, but I love you the same way now that I did then. You obviously have a lot of pain to relieve and demons to fight. Let me help you.”

I stared at the young woman in front of me, so young yet so wise. Everything around me was burning to hell, but she was standing amidst the flames like a beacon of hope. I was afraid to get close to her though. What if she was ripped away from me like Hadley? “I can’t.”

She looked crestfallen and the guilt burned my chest. Despite my better judgment, I took her in my arms and allowed her to cry against my neck. I could hold her for this moment, but I was not who she needed and I knew this connection would not last forever.

Forever. What a haunting concept? I used to think I had forever to spend with Hadley and I suppose at one point I felt the same for Demetri. In a sense, they are imprinted on me, within the fabric of my essence. No one ever thinks of the downside to all of this. No one ever thinks of the bitter, lonely nights when forever lasts longer than we anticipated. What we really mean when we say forever is until we pass on, but what happens when a part of us passes on and someone else remains? I guess it looks a lot like this. It looks like me holding on to a daughter I cannot remember in the home of my husband and his wife, wondering if forever would ever look good again.

There is nothing more uncomfortable than driving down a deserted stretch of highway with a full bladder. Guys have it easy. They can pull over anywhere, discreetly pull it out and go. Women, on the other hand, have a production of untying, zipping, pulling and who knows what else. Not to mention we have to worry about some freak jumping out of the bushes, but I couldn't hold it anymore. In hindsight, I should have just peed my pants and kept going, but how could I know that he’d come my way when I hadn’t seen anyone or anything for the last fifteen miles?

He stopped just about a yard from my opened car door as I crouched next to it holding onto the door through the opened window to keep steady as I relieved myself. “Having car trouble?” He asked, seemingly oblivious to what was actually going on.

“Um, no.” My face reddened and I hoped he didn’t notice the puddle of urine forming at my feet.

Upon realizing that I was peeing on the side of the road and not having car trouble, he respectfully turned so his back was to me and he continued talking. “My car broke down about two miles back. I was hoping to find some sort of service station on this road, but it seems nothing is within close walking distance.”

I wiped myself with napkins from my glove compartment, stood up and fastened my jeans quickly. “There isn’t anything on this road for miles,” I said to his back. Although he was wearing a dress shirt, I could tell his back was muscular. I knew where this conversation was going. He wanted a ride somewhere. I briefly thought of all the stories about people who ended up dead picking up hitchhikers on this stretch of road growing up as a young girl, but the hopeless romantic in me thought this could be the start of some sort of happily-ever-after love story so I took the bait. “Where are you headed exactly?”

I closed my car door and he turned around. “I’m headed to Carlisle. It’s at least another hundred miles from here.” He tugged at the corner of his shirt that was carelessly hanging out of his slacks and I noticed his hands looked rough and there was dirt caked under his fingernails which seemed out of place for a man dressed in business attire.

“I guess you’re in luck. So am I. You can ride with me.”

“I just need a ride to a service station. You don’t have to take me that far.”

“Well, most of this area is deserted so the closest working service station would be in Carlisle. Guess you’re stuck with me,” I laughed and extended my hand, “I’m Blanche Tonto.”

“Russell Schwindler.” His hand felt like sandpaper in mine, yet there was gentleness in his touch that was welcoming.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Schwindler. Hop in. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

“You may call me Russ. Thanks. I’ll definitely fill your tank up once we get to Carlisle.”

I suddenly felt nervous as I got back into my car to travel with a stranger I met on the side of the road. I nestled into my seat while fastening my seatbelt as Russ did the same on the passenger side. I studied him out of the corner of my eye while pulling out onto the road. He had this quiet confidence about him as if his disheveled appearance was deliberate rather than a result of a two mile trek along the road. His jawline was beautifully structured in a masculine way and covered in facial hair that seemed to not have been shaved in at least a week or two. His hair was cropped short and a dusty blonde color that perfectly matched his deep-set green eyes. “So are you from Carlisle? Only people from Carlisle travel this road. Everyone else uses main highways.”

“Not exactly.” His response was short, indicating he didn’t care to elaborate, but that just made me want to know more. Who was this ruggedly handsome man sitting just inches to my right? He looked out the window as we whizzed by trees and shrubbery, but it seemed as if he wasn’t looking at them, but through them. It was as if there was something heavy on his mind and I wanted to get inside his head.

“Not exactly? What does that mean?” I took a quick glance to my right to see his reaction to my question, but he seemed not to be bothered. His demeanor was calm so I didn’t feel too bad about prying further.

“I’m originally from Redford. I lived in Carlisle for five years before leaving a few months ago…” His voice trailed off as if there was more he could have said, but he got caught up in some painful memory that caused him to stop speaking. The distance in his eyes returned and I could tell there was more to his words than what appeared on the surface. The more I wondered about him, the more I felt myself drawing closer to him as if I knew him my whole life.

“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to,” I put my right hand on his forearm and squeezed. The exchange was rather inappropriate for strangers, but I felt he needed it and in a strange way, I did too. Unexpectedly, he put his hand on mine and squeezed as if to say thank you. His touch was electric and caused a smile to form on my lips. There was an undeniable chemistry between us; at least, it was undeniable to me.

After a few moments of silence, he continued, “I loved her.” I instinctively retracted my hand and placed it back on the steering wheel. A wave of jealousy flashed through my body, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I think I loved her more than she ever loved me and that was my mistake. I moved my whole life to Carlisle just to be with her. We were happy. Well, I was happy and she pretended to be.” He clenched his fists and it was like I could see the anger surging through his fingers which didn’t match the despair on his face.

“What brings you back to Carlisle?” It was the only question I could think of. The only thing I could say without my feelings becoming so transparent that he’d regret ever saying a word to me.

“To be honest,” he began rubbing the back of his neck, “I shouldn’t even be headed to Carlisle, but I heard that she gave birth to the baby and I had to be there. I have to see her.”

“You had a baby? Congrats!” My enthusiasm at the revelation was borderline sarcastic and I was hoping he didn’t pick up on it. The little pieces of his life he was sharing with me made me desire him even though his heart belonged to another. The idea of his unavailability made him all the more desirable.

“Not exactly. The baby isn’t mine. Well, she says it isn’t, but I don’t believe her. I won’t believe her until I see that baby.” His voice wavered as if he were on the verge of tears, but from what I could see out of the corner of my eye, his face was eerily stone-like. He looked straight ahead at the stretch of road in front of us which seemed to go on forever into nothingness. “Love is funny; sometimes a cruel joke even. You go through life looking for someone you can grow as a person with; a person who can look at your flaws and quirks and still see beauty. Someone who is understanding, open, honest, and secure in who they are. That one person who you can look at each day and marvel at who they are and who they have yet to become. I used to think that she changed. That she was different than the woman I had fallen in love with, but she hadn’t. I just woke up from the ignorant slumber I blissfully rested in and saw her for the first time in the entire stretch of time that I knew her.”

I could feel in my gut that he was on his wit's end. He was a broken man and I wanted nothing more than to fix him. It was a weird mix of feelings swirling inside me that I hadn’t felt for anyone ever and here was this stranger making me push good judgment to the side for what may be nothing more than a cheap thrill. I felt I owed him something. Some sort of consolation to let him know that he’d be okay. “In life you’ll meet people who say one thing and mean another. You’ll meet those who are full of themselves and do nothing, but crush others. However, in the midst of all those low quality personalities, there are the few that’ll come into your life that make you believe your ‘one’ is out there going through the same crazy search you are.”

It was the most I said the entire car ride and it seemed to be the first time he actually noticed me. “You’re beautiful.”

I blushed at his words. So simple a statement, but it meant so much to me. “Thanks.”

“What’s in Carlisle for you?”

The question took me by surprise. We spent the entire car ride talking about Russ and where he was going that my own plans were forgotten and pushed off to the side. I suddenly felt exposed and naked as if telling him my reasoning for going to Carlisle will reveal my innermost thoughts. “I used to live in Carlisle as a little girl. My grandmother passed away recently and left me her house.”

“Sorry for your loss Blanche.”

“Thanks. I didn’t know her well. Now that I think about it, that’s sort of sad because we lived in the same town. She was like a stranger, though.”

“That can happen sometimes, you know,” Russ said leaning back in his seat, “The people who should be the closest to us are the furthest away.”

I felt bad all of a sudden. I didn’t even have the decency to go back to Carlisle for the funeral and here I was, headed back now, to claim a house I barely visited when I used to live just across town. I felt as if Russ could see my thoughts and he was judging me for my past transgressions. “I’m not a bad person, you know. Life just happens so fast sometimes that you don’t realize it’s moving so rapidly until it stops.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person Blanche. We sometimes lose sight of what’s important when we’re focused on other things. We can get tunnel vision. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re human.” I appreciated his words, but I still felt horrible. I was embarrassed. “So are you moving back to Carlisle or are you going to see what you’ll be doing about the house?”

I pondered over his question unsure of how to answer. Originally, I had no intentions of keeping the house, but now it seemed like something I must do. “I’m not exactly certain if I’m moving back just yet, but I will be keeping the house. Do you know what you will do if the baby is yours?”

“I’ll be moving back to Carlisle. No doubt about that.” That was the answer I thought he’d give and I found myself secretly hoping the baby was his. “We’re not that far from Carlisle now. It’s just another forty miles or so.”

My heart sank when I realized how close we were and that the ride would come to an end. While I hoped we would see each other again, I didn’t want to fool myself into believing this was more than just a car ride shared between strangers. Once we reached our destination, though, something in me knew we’d part ways and remain just that, strangers. “I bet you’re anxious.” I hoped he didn’t notice the hint of sadness in my voice.

“Part of me is dying to know and another part of me is hoping I never find out. There is a certain comfort and security in not knowing.” I nodded my head unsure of what to say. The closer we got to Carlisle the further away I seemed to get from him.

The rest of the ride happened so quickly and the conversation was more cordial than anything else. We were in Carlisle within an hour and I was pulling up to an apartment building I used to pass on my way to school every day as a young girl. “I can’t thank you enough for this Blanche.” Russ said, unbuckling his seatbelt and preparing to get out of the car.

“It was a pleasure Russ. You were great company,” I grabbed a scrap piece of paper and pen from the console and scribbled the address of my grandmother’s house and my cell phone number. “If you’re ever in town again or need a ride just give me a ring or stop by.”

“Will do,” He flashed me a smile, took the paper and got out of the car. “Bye Blanche.”

I waved, unable to form the words that would be a proper goodbye to such an alluring man. He disappeared into the building and a piece of me went with him. I watched another minute before pulling away and headed to my grandmother’s house.

***

A week had passed and still there was no sign of Russ. I’d driven past the apartment building I dropped him off at multiple times, but I never caught him going in or out of the building. Maybe he had already left Carlisle. I couldn’t help, but feel sad that nothing more came of our encounter. I was certain there was something between us. He consumed my thoughts and I knew I had to let it go, but I didn’t want to without seeing him at least one more time.

I sat on the couch in my grandmother’s living room and turned on the television to get my mind off of Russ and his mesmerizing green eyes. The news was on and I stared at the screen blankly, barely paying attention until a familiar face flashed across this screen. Could it be? I picked up the remote control and turned up the volume.

“Residents of Green Oak Apartments described a man looking like the sketch you see on the screen being the last person seen leaving the apartment where the young mother and her new born baby were found slain. Police are asking if anyone has any information on this man, please call 914-345-9876” the newscaster’s voice become nothing more than muffled sounds as I dropped the remote control in complete disbelief. The sketch was a dead ringer for Russ, but he couldn’t have done this. I refused to believe it. I was dumbfounded and, in a sense, I felt betrayed. He was a good guy. He had to be. I needed him to be.

I snatched up the remote and turned the television off. I looked at the coffee table where my cell phone sat and stared at it. I once looked at it as a beacon of hope that one day Russ would call and put me out of my misery of wondering whether he thought about me at all. Now I wanted nothing more than for him to lose my number and address. I got up from the couch, suddenly paranoid, and began locking windows and doors. How could I be so stupid? Happily ever afters didn’t exist. They were simply stories that weren’t finished yet.

There was a huge weight on my shoulders that felt heavier as time ticked on. Should I call the police? What did I really know about him? What if he didn’t do it? After thirty minutes of going back and forth with myself, I decided to sleep on it.

***

The next morning I had decided against calling the police. I felt slightly responsible for the two lives lost. If I hadn’t given him that ride, maybe he wouldn’t have made it to Carlisle. Maybe that young woman and that innocent little baby would still be alive. I felt like I had blood on my hands, but I was too much of a coward to come clean. I didn’t want to be involved.

I opened the front door and picked up the newspaper waiting on the front porch and quickly shut the door, locking it. On top of the newspaper was taped a folded piece of white paper. I opened it up and the color drained from my face as I read:

Beautiful,

The baby wasn’t mine.

- R. S.

"He left everything to her?" Jonah spat vehemently, pacing the floor. "This must be some kind of mistake. I'm his son." I watched Jonah in his expensive tailored suit and Italian leather shoes. If he kept pacing the way he was, he'd burn a hole in the floor.

            "It says so right here," Jameson, the family lawyer and long-time friend, said. I could hear the uneasiness in his voice. This was difficult news for him to give. He watched Jonah grow up and now he had to tell him that he had nothing coming to him, but the trust fund he was eligible for in one year when he turned eighteen.

            "This has to be a mistake! He wouldn't leave her anything!" Jonah's voice began to waver and my heart ached for him. I wanted to reach out to him and hold him, but it would only upset him more. He didn't want that kind of comfort from me. He stared at me with daggers in his eyes and fists clenched so tight that his knuckles were turning white. "You did this, didn't you?"

            I looked at Jonah with a pained expression on my face. Couldn't he see that his disdain for me hurt me? Couldn't he tell from the moment I laid eyes on him I loved him? It couldn't be that hard to tell, could it? I averted my eyes for a split second, trying to think of something to say to trigger some sort of compassion in him. "No, I didn't. I loved your father very much. I love you too, Jonah."

            "Yeah, that's a likely story. You tell a lot of stories, don't you? Trying to fill my head with lies, the way you did my old man, huh?" Jonah finally sat in the chair adjacent to mine and looked at Jameson, "What am I supposed to do now, man? Where am I to go?" He rubbed his hand over his face and I could see his eyes glistening with tears.

            Clearing his throat, Jameson offered, "You could stay with Veronica. After all, she is your -"

            "No!" Jonah jumped up from his seat again. "Don't you dare say that Jameson!" By this time, real tears escaped Jonah's eyes and every fiber in my being wanted to console him, but I remained quiet and still. "My father is dead and you think she will take care of me?"

            His words hurt me. He referred to me as if I were just some random person off the street trying to take money that belonged to him. I could care less about the money to be honest. The one thing I really wanted, I couldn't buy. "Jonah, please listen to me for a second," I spoke carefully and pointedly, "I know you may never want me as a part of your life, but let me take care of you. It's the least I can do."

            "The least you can do? Really, Veronica? Let me save you the trouble. Don't do anything. You're good at that." He began to pace again.

            I looked at Jameson who was looking at me expectantly. Our relationship was always a rocky one and I could tell whose side he was on. Legally, his hands were tied and he had to follow Parker's wishes as outlined by the will. "Veronica, you need to get a handle on this. Jonah needs someone and that someone should be you."

            Jonah stopped in his tracks and turned to face Jameson. "You have got to be kidding me? Once she gets her hands on my father's money, she'll be off in some tropic somewhere, getting high or something. She doesn't need me holding her down. Isn't that right, Veronica?" Jonah had this weird look on his face that I couldn't quite place. It was like a mixture of malice and delight. It was as if he was pleased he slipped in that comment about me getting high in front of Jameson.

            "Jonah why don't you step outside and let us adults talk amongst ourselves for a while," Jameson suggested. While doing without Jonah's outbursts would be less heartbreaking, it is hardly a reprieve. Jameson wouldn't skirt around the issue at hand with Jonah out of the room.

            "Whatever man," Jonah turned and left the room, mumbling curses under his breath obviously meant for me. My heart felt as if it were breaking into thousands of tiny pieces.

            "Well, I guess we can't avoid the pink walrus in the room any longer," I chuckled nervously.

            "Elephant," Jameson corrected.

            "What?"

            "You mean elephant. The phrase is pink elephant."

            "Oh," I rubbed my hands nervously on my thighs. "Look Jameson, I know you don't particularly care for me, but you have to believe me when I tell you I loved Parker and I most definitely love Jonah. Coming back here was not for money, it was to get my family back."

            "Veronica, I do believe that you loved Parker and you love Jonah, but I'm not the one you have to convince of that. Do you know what that boy has been through these last sixteen years of his life? You know nothing about him except the fact that you do love him and he knows nothing about you except what Parker chose to tell."

            "But he's my son."

            "Biologically, yes. That does not make you his mother though. He longed for you growing up Veronica and where were you? They both needed you. You show up again last year after all that time and think all is forgiven and forgotten. It does not work that way."

            "With all due respect Jameson, there is a lot about me you don't know and Parker forgave me. I can never give those sixteen years back to Jonah. Never! If it is all right with you, I am going to take my son to the beach house and try to talk to him. Maybe I can get through to him."

            Jameson threw his hands up in the air. "Veronica, you're a real piece of work. That boy is fragile and so are you. When things get tough again and you're ready to run, what is going to become of Jonah?"

            "There is nowhere to run this time." I stood up smoothing wrinkles from my creme colored skirt and turned quickly to avoid more conversation. Once out the door, I motioned to Jonah to come on. I could hear him suck his teeth, but he really had no choice so he reluctantly followed me, sulking.

***

            I sat in the beach chair smoking a cigarette watching the waves rush toward the shore. There was something calming about the sea that made the beach house my favorite place to be. It was as if maybe the sea could wash over me and cleanse me of my past transgressions. The ride home from Jameson's office was awkward. Jonah refused to talk to me and I really didn't know what to say to him. Truth be told, I had no idea how to be a mother.

            Running is what I did best. When things get tough, I run. When I was younger, I ran from home at fifteen because my mother was an abusive drunk. I turned to the streets for the love I didn't get at home and let drugs become my lullaby at night. When I met Parker, he cleaned me up and made me his wife. Things were okay for a while. We'd spend many nights on this very beach, watching the stars and listening to the waves. He used to tell me stories of how the sea was made from the tears of God. All those tears were for all the suffering His people went through. Swimming in the ocean was a way to become clean from all the wrong we've done and come close to God. He assured me if I went in the water, I'd be cleansed forever of the stigma that followed me because of my drug use.

            I never did though. While the sea called me, I ignored its calls. Parker would fuss at me, saying that I wanted to hold on to a piece of an old life I needed to leave behind. When we had Jonah, I had enough. There was something inside me that knew both Parker and Jonah needed something more than what I was capable of being or giving. My soul was unclean. So I ran. I didn't think about consequences then. Life was tough out there for me. Sleeping in parks, eating out of garbage cans, sharing needles. That's the kind of life I left this paradise for.

            "Veronica," Jonah began, standing over me, "the telephone is for you. It's the doctor's office."

            "Thank you. Tell them I'll call them on my cell phone." I didn't want to talk to them in the house when Jonah would be in ear shot nor did I want to risk the chance that he'd listen on another extension.

            "Yeah okay. Um, Veronica, can I ask you something?"

            "Yes dear. You may ask me anything."

            "Is there something wrong with you? You've been staring at the ocean forever."

            "Not in the least. Don't you worry. I'm just thinking of cleansing my soul."

            "Oh I'm not worried. I was just wondering in case you wanted to do me a favor and go drown or something."

            "Have you ever been afraid of anything Jonah?"

            "What do you mean?"

            "Well, I'm afraid that one day I'm going to wither away and die and people will just go on and live as if I never existed. Everyone will just forget me."

            "I think you caused that yourself Veronica."

            I sat quietly and pondered over his cruel words. Maybe I deserved them, but I'd never know. He left me sitting here to lick my wounds without any thought to how I might feel. Maybe this was his way of showing me what it felt like to be abandoned. I couldn't ponder on it too long because I had to call the doctor's office back.

            Punching in the numbers on my cell phone, I felt a chill run down my spine. This would be one of the single most important phone calls I'd make in my life to date. "Yes hi. This is Veronica Davis calling back."

            "Oh hi Mrs. Davis. Dr. Shaw wanted you to know your test results are in. When would you like to come in to discuss them?" the receptionist responded. Her cheerful tone almost seemed unfitting for the particular conversation we were having but I ignored it.

            "I don't want to come in. I want them over the phone, now."

            "Oh, um, Dr. Shaw normally doesn't do that, but I can see. Please hold."

            I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair, with my cigarette still in hand. The anticipation made the wait seem longer than it actually was, but hopefully the results of this test would lift a tremendous weight off of my shoulders. I needed to know.

             "Hello, Dr. Shaw here," I heard the doctor's baritone voice sound over the phone. "Are you sure you want your results over the phone?"

            "It'll save me some gas and I'm just anxious to know. So yes I do. Give it to me straight please."

            "Well, first I just want to let you know that I'll do everything in my power to -"

            "Dr. Shaw, please. Positive or negative?"

            The doctor let out a long sigh before saying, "Positive, I'm afraid, Mrs. Davis. Believe me though, it's no longer a death sentence."

            "I'm HIV positive." I couldn't think of anything, but all the time I spent away from my son. The years I couldn't give back to him and all the time I wasted running. "Thank you, doctor."

            "But Mrs. Davis, please come in so we can discuss what to do next. It's imperative that we start treatment as soon as possible."

            "Not right now. What I really need to do is cleanse my soul." I hung up the phone before he could get in a word edgewise and dialed Jameson's number.

            When Jameson answered, I said quickly, "I need you to draw me up a will and leave everything to Jonah." I hung up just as quickly. Standing up and putting out my cigarette, I dropped my phone beside me in the sand and started running towards the ocean. I picked up speed as I got closer until my feet grazed the wet sand and rushing waves. I went deeper and deeper into the ocean until the water reached my belly button. Then I stood there, staring out into the seemingly endless sea and did something I haven't done in a very long time. I cried. I cried for Jonah. I cried for Parker. I cried for myself. I allowed my salty tears to fall off my face into the ocean, ridding my soul of the poisonous thoughts and feelings I kept bottled inside, allowing my soul to be cleansed. For my late husband, for my son, and for me.

Eden nervously drummed her fingers on the kitchen table, nursing an already cold, black cup of coffee in her favorite orange mug. She had a bad feeling about today, but she couldn't place her finger on it. She just knew something wasn't right. "Would you quit that?" Wendell asked, peering from behind his newspaper at his wife.

            "Oh, sorry," she said, flashing him a weak smile, "It's just, I have a bad feeling, Wen."

            Never taking his eyes from the paper, he asked, "What is it Eden?"

            "I don't know. It's just...we've never done anything like this before."

            She pushed the center of the newspaper down with her index finger, commanding his attention. Reluctantly, he folded the paper and placed it on the table beside his untouched breakfast. "Eden, look, I know you're nervous, but honestly, we need the money. There isn't much more to it."

            Eden rolled her eyes. It was just like Wendell to say that they needed the money, but she had to do all the work. That was just how their marriage worked. Wendell was the brains and she was the brawn, so to speak. "But isn't this sort of illegal?"

            "Sort of," Wendell laughed in a questioning tone, "Of course it is and that's why no one can know Eden. Not one soul." He stared into Eden's hazel eyes hoping she understood the seriousness of his statement. Eden nodded, taking another sip of coffee to hide her doubt. Wendell couldn't know that her faith in him was wavering.

            Wendell picked the newspaper back up and continued reading where he left off, while Eden got up from the table abandoning her cold coffee in hopes of finding some other mindless task to focus her energy on. She had to get a hold of her nerves. Women did this every day, but something about her doing it just didn't sit right with her. Something about today made their plans - Wendell's plans - seem more threatening to her sanity than any other day.

            Looking outside the bay window of the living room, she stared out at the perfectly lined homes with their perfectly manicured lawns housing seemingly perfectly happy families. Each decorated with patriotic paraphernalia to celebrate the Fourth of July. Her home appeared as if it was haphazardly placed there by mistake with her overgrown lawn and sad excuses of spider web decorations made from stretched out cheesecloth from Halloween nine months ago. What she wouldn't give to swap lives with one of the other wives on her street. They had normal lives and marriages, and to her normalcy was a valuable asset to be desired.

            "Would you quit worrying," Wendell asked walking into the living room with his car keys in hand, "you're going to do great. Just remember, stroke his ego a little and see if you can get him to pay a little more."

            "Wait, Wen. You won't be staying here with me?" Eden instinctively put a hand on her round, pregnant belly. "You've got to stay here with me."

            "Eden I can't. I've already agreed to barbecue for the Coopers today for a little money. You'll do fine honey. I promise."

           "But it's a holiday. Why can't he come another day?"

            "That's just the way it is. Got to go." Wendell kissed her forehead and turned quickly on his heels before she could get another word in edgewise. From her position near the window, she could see Wendell pulling out the driveway and disappearing down the street. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced herself not to cry.

            Life with Wendell wasn't always this way. At one point in their marriage, maybe even if it was just the beginning part, they were very happy. A change occurred about twenty years ago and she never understood why, but she accepted it because she loved Wendell. She married him when she was only sixteen years old and was certain their life would be the fairytale she had hoped it would be. This part of their marriage must have been the story that happens once the fairytale ends.

            Holding onto her belly, Eden felt the urge to cry again. From the beginning of their marriage, Wendell made it very clear that he did not want to have children and he was still firm on that stance. She always assumed that as they lived their lives together a change of heart would be inevitable, but she was wrong. Wendell never felt that intrinsic desire to father his own children; not even when she announced five months ago that she was pregnant and not even when they found out she was pregnant with a baby boy. He just came up with another scheme to make money off of an undesirable circumstance and somehow convinced her to go along with it.

            Wendell found a single man, who had no plans of marrying, but wanted children and offered to sell their baby to him. Her baby. He couldn't do a simple adoption, and she refused from the beginning to have an abortion. Somehow Wendell was always able to dodge a bullet, even in friendly fire.

            "Don't worry baby," Eden spoke out loud to her unborn child, rubbing her stomach, "no matter what happens, just know your mama loves you. Although it may not seem like it, it's true." She felt horrible, selling off her child like people do to the young of an animal. It was unnatural, but she loved Wendell and she wasn't strong enough to raise a child on her own. Not now anyway.

            She looked at her watch, waiting impatiently for this man to arrive. Wendell didn't tell her much. He just let her know that he was young, single, and successful. He'd be able to afford to give the baby everything Wendell wasn't willing to and everything Eden wasn't able to. It was as if fireworks exploded inside of Eden as the reality of her situation began to sink in. Eden was an unfit mother. At least, that's the way she saw herself after living with Wendell.

            Jarring her out of her thoughts, an expensive looking vehicle she never seen before, looking more like a spaceship than a car, pulled into her driveway. She ran from the window to the mirror in the foyer, wiping any remaining tears from her face. She waited at the door until she heard the doorbell ring and opened it, pasting a fake smile on her face. "I'm so happy you're finally here. I've been dying to meet you. I'm Eden." She extended her hand and shook his. "Please come in." She stared at the man's brown eyes, curly hair, and bronzed skin as if kissed by the sun. He was definitely handsome and eerily familiar.

            "Thanks. I'm John. He told you about me?" the young man asked with a quizzical expression on his face.

            "Of course Wendell did," Eden replied, leading John to the living room and motioning for him to take a seat on the love seat as she sat across from him on the matching beige, leather sofa. "Why wouldn't he? He wouldn’t be able to place our baby in a home without my consent." She laughed playfully.

            "Baby? Why would he give me your baby?"

            "Well, he isn't giving you our baby. He's selling him to you. Why do I feel this is your first time hearing all of this?"

            "I don't know what he told you about me or what you guys have going on here, but he doesn't even know I'm here today. Is he even home?" John asked, looking around the modestly decorated living room.

            "No, he had to step out and what do you mean he doesn't know you're here?"

            "Well, he doesn't. I haven't spoken to him in about a month. I came to make amends."

            "Well if you aren't here to buy our baby, then who are you?" Eden asked confused and slightly embarrassed at how much she revealed to a stranger.

            Looking equally uncomfortable, John shifted his weight and then delivered a blow Eden wasn't prepared for. "I'm his son."