I Woke Up Dead at the Mall (22 page)

“Sarah!” Nick called. “Your dad—he's in danger!”

“I know!” I said. Seeing Nick, hearing his voice, being near him again, it all conspired to throw me off and slow me down. And I couldn't afford to be slow. Not now.

“She's been giving him selenium. It's destroying his heart. And if he dies from a heart attack,
she'll get away with it
.” He was waving his arms in front of them, and I realized that he was trying desperately for them to see him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, and okay, there was just a hint of hostility in my voice.

“I'm trying to help. I'm trying to become an angel, and that's what angels do.” It was his turn to sound hostile. “We help!”

“So they'll see you, and then what?” I asked. “My dad sees a ghost and has an
instant
heart attack? Is that the plan?”

“No!” Dad gasped. His red face was contorted in pain. He was sweating and fighting for air as he clutched his left arm. I
knelt before him. “Dad. Get your phone. Call nine-one-one. You need an ambulance. Right now!”

There were at least a dozen dead people all around us. They broke from their usual routine to watch what was unfolding here. “He doesn't have long now,” one of them said.

“Dad!” I shouted as hard as I could. A few ghosts echoed me. “Dad! Dad!” The ghost who screamed at people let out a banshee howl. The
Gatsby
couple stopped their endless bickering and joined in the chorus.

“Listen to her!”
Gatsby
guy shouted.

“Your daughter is trying to save you!”
Gatsby
girl urged him.

“Call nine-one-one!” My voice was a ragged shriek above the rising chorus of screams, shouts, and moans from the dead encircling us.

Maybe he heard me. He reached toward the inside pocket of his jacket. Or was he reaching for his chest? His trembling hands rested against his heart. The dead went silent, waiting for him to do something, anything.

“Help,” he whispered.

“Finally,” Karen said. “I have to hand it to you, Evans, you have endurance. I mean, the stress of Sarah's death should have pushed you to a coronary by now. But no, you had to make me earn it. Fine.”

And now, all around us, the voices of the dead rose up—shouting, moaning, shrieking, and screaming—at him, her, me, and the sky. It was an ever-expanding, deafening chorus of alarm, like someone had started a rebellion in the ape house.

Dad turned to face her. The pain was magnified now with fear and bone-deep sadness. I moved in even closer, to hear and be heard above the madness.

“Dad! Don't listen to her. Listen to me! Call nine-one-one right now!”
I practically bellowed.

Karen leaned close to Dad. I could barely hear her over the madness all around us. “Just let it happen. It's better if you don't fight it. You'll have to take my word on that.”

Dad groaned and tried to move, but the pain in his chest and his arm stopped him.

And now the dead were scrambling outward, shouting warnings all over the park to the police and every living person who passed by.
“Nine-one-one right now! Somebody call nine-one-one! Murder! Murder! Death! This man is having a heart attack!”
But the living tuned us out.

Karen scanned all around her, a momentary look of confusion on her face. But she quickly returned to Dad. “Maybe this'll help,” she said with false sweetness. “I never loved you. But I'm mad about your money. I've been waiting for this day since we met. And now I'll go over there.” She pointed to a distant bench with a good view of this one. “So I can come back and discover you. And I'll be shocked and sad and all that. Whatever. I'll give you a dramatic send-off with lots of witnesses. Would you please move this along?”

“Nine-one-one. Please! Hear my voice and call nine-one-one!”
My throat was raw and painful. A few living people looked up for the source of the voice, but then instantly, maddeningly turned away. Karen looked around, a flicker of worry overtaking her.

“Weird,” she said. She checked her watch, impatient for Dad to die, no doubt. She whispered once more into his ear. “How about this? I killed Sarah. Or at least I arranged it. Here's the punch line:
You
were supposed to die that day, but my idiot caterer screwed up. Sarah died in your place.”

That did it. Dad's head dropped forward. His struggle against the pain was over. I could feel it. He was losing the fight. Soon he would be in that thread-by-thread part of dying.

Karen rose slowly, casually, not calling any attention to herself. She walked away to that distant bench. She sat and she watched. The cries of the dead rose in pitch and volume and felt like a physical wall around us.

Alice and Lacey were by my side. “We're too late,” Alice said. “He's gone.”

“Not yet,” Lacey said. “I'll get his phone. I'll dial. You'll shout into the phone,” she ordered me. I was ready to obey.

She reached into his jacket for the phone, but she couldn't grasp it. Three tries. Four tries. Finally she had it and began to ease it to the bench. But it fell from her hand and crashed to the ground, facedown.

“I'm trying.” She was nearly weeping as she reached for that phone over and over again.

“Sing,” Nick said. “Sing and somebody will really hear you.”

It sounded like the stupidest idea ever. But it was the only idea we had left. I scanned the park for someone who might hear me and respond. The musician? Maybe. And then I saw that little strawberry-blond girl, the one who liked to sing.
She was walking through the park with her mother, humming a tune to herself. Elizabeth Anne. I had to pin all my hopes on a random kid. So, I sang out as hard as I could.

Turn your face to me

Turn your gaze and see

All the pain surrounding you

She stopped walking and stopped humming. Good. Her mother tugged at her hand to start up again. “Elizabeth Anne, we have to go,” her mother urged. But Elizabeth Anne stood still and listened. Good girl.

Every song you hear

With a heart sincere

Brings a chance for you to do

“Sweetheart, don't stare at that man on the bench. It's rude to stare,” the mother advised.

Something more

“I think he's sick. I think he's in an emergency,” she said. The mother shook her head, but she studied the man on the bench, the man who was beginning to leave his body, thread by thread.

Turn your face to me

Turn your gaze and see

All the pain surrounding you

Dad was alive. Whatever was to come after this, I knew I'd be at peace with it.

As the ambulance was loading him onto the stretcher, I saw him blink his eyes open, and I could swear that he saw me. He reached his hand forward, and I reached mine. I heard the word “stable” and that would have to do.

In the distance, I saw Karen rise and leave the park. Maybe she had some sort of getaway plan. Or maybe she'd be caught and spend the rest of her miserable living days in prison. Either way it was fine. Despite the Boy's predictions, I didn't need revenge. She'd find hell right here on earth. I was certain of that.

Little Elizabeth Anne stood all alone, crying, as she watched the adults in a state of emergency around her. So I crouched next to her and sang softly into her ear.

Be the girl who does

More than she who was

Be alive in joy and hope

Just as her weeping quieted, a familiar, faintly Irish voice sputtered, “Honestly!”

Bertha. I was never so happy to see that little face, even though it was twisted into an old-lady scowl.

“How did you know we were here?” I asked. And all at once, I knew. Declan couldn't act his way through this one. (Good.)

Bertha did her classic cluck-sigh combo and said, “Come on, you lot. Get in.”

“Hey,” Lacey said, with a realization dawning on her. “How were we going to get back to the mall?”

“Oh, I would have found a way to help you,” Nick said. He was there by my side as the elevator bumped to a start.

“Yay for Nick,” said Lacey.

“Yay indeed,” Alice echoed.

He took my hand and warmed me through and through. Was he staying? Was he just passing through? Were these our true final moments together? I looked up at the gold flecks in his eyes and that crazy smile. This was my chance at a do-over for our goodbye. I kissed him and let us both get caught in the dream of that kiss. Bertha wasn't shy about interrupting us.

“Ah-hem!” she shouted, and we all followed Bertha to the Toys“R”Us. Nick kept hold of my hand. I felt like I was watching a movie of us walking together. I was the smiling girl. The one holding hands with the boy who had the crooked grin. I was the girl filled with light.

Bertha came to a sudden stop at the Toys“R”Us entrance and said, “I wonder, really, at what point I lost control of this group. Just this once, do as I ask and wait here. Do not go to the elevator. Do not go anywhere!”

She didn't wait for an answer.

“You were trying to save him,” I said to Nick. “Thank you.” I couldn't believe what I was feeling. Could I really be happy that Nick had left me and become an angel?

“I was failing.” Nick shook his head and grinned as he spoke. “You saved him.”

“We all did,” I said to Nick, to Lacey, to Alice. “Thank you.”

Bertha screeched to us from the store, “Come inside!” That was our Bertha, forever stepping on the pretty moments.

We found her at the back. “And now…” She raised an eyebrow at me and said, “It's time.” The Boy was waiting for us. Declan was cowering off to one side.

The girl Boy jumped up and cheered, “Bravo for you! You did it!”

“But I thought you didn't want me to interfere—it sounded like you wanted me to let him die,” I answered.

“You never told us that,” Alice whispered to me.

“We
did
!” the boy Boy said. “Only angels are supposed to interfere. But you were naughty, and you went there anyway, and now your daddy's going to live.”

“He is?” Oh, I was too full of joy. I had to share some of it, give it away. Dad would live through all of this. Victory.

“Well,” the girl Boy corrected the boy Boy, “he won't live forever!”

“I'm really sorry I told on you guys,” poor Declan said. “She just kept asking me. And I cracked. I'm really sorry!”

“It's fine, Declan,” I assured him. “All is forgiven. Truly.”

Bertha muttered, “I asked him twice. Hardly the third degree.”

“Hey, Bertha?” Declan asked. “Are those new shoes?” She
was wearing ballerina flats. No clunk whatsoever. And they were—how can I say this?—cute.

“Oh. Well. I felt the need for a change. A few changes.” She was blushing hard.

Suddenly Lacey shouted out, “Hey! My bracelet! It's all white and shimmery! Like Harry's was.” She was giggling with delight. And then I realized that Alice and I were both wearing white shimmery bracelets too.

“Even me!” Declan crowed.

“Time to move on,” Bertha said quietly. “And not a moment too soon.”

Nick squeezed my hand and I let myself lean against his arm and his shoulder. I had nearly forgotten how intoxicating trees and rainstorms could be. I had to inhale it and enjoy it while I could.

The Boy transformed into an old man, complete with the white beard, the flowing robes.

“We seem way more important like this. And this is an important moment,” he said. He was in a serious mood now, peering down at Declan, saying, “You can now move on, if you believe you are ready.”

“Yes, sir!” Declan seemed completely intimidated by this version of the Boy. “Yes, Your Lordship. I would be honored.” And with that he gave a deep bow.

The Boy turned to Lacey but didn't get a chance to speak. She looked at all of us and said, “Are you kidding? Let's go! Right now! I want to have a whole life. I want to be a person, have some kids. I want to get old and not die till I'm totally ready.”

The Boy looked at Alice.

“Yes, I'm completely ready to move on,” she said eagerly. “My life was too brief and too dark. My afterlife has been too long, too arduous. I'm ready. I want some life. Some joy.”

He looked at me. I wanted to find some poetic way to say, “I'm ready!” But he said this instead:

“Sarah. You aren't an ordinary girl. You've always known that, even if you pretended otherwise. If you so choose, you could become an angel,” he boomed. “You could stay in the afterlife. You could help the living and help the dead. You would be immortal. But you would not be alive.”

I couldn't speak. Was I about to choose between life and death? For all time?

Bertha stepped forward. “When you were able to haunt in your dreams, it was a clear sign that you're an angel. If not this time, eventually, Sarah, you will be an angel.”

When I looked back at the Boy, he had transformed into Oprah.

“Don't make this decision because of him.” She pointed to Nick. “He's not much of an angel, I have to tell you! He couldn't help an old lady across the street. But he helped you and your dad. And he is kind of heroic, so there you go.”

I looked straight at Nick. “Thank you. Not just for this, but for everything that went before. Thank you.”

Oprah laughed to herself. “He's a sweetheart. True. But. As angels go, this one needs help!”

Nick nodded and answered Oprah. “Okay, yes, I have a lot to learn. It's true.” He turned to me. “If you want to move on, I'll understand. It's sort of maddening to be among the living
and see them not get it. Life is this amazing gift. Who would turn it down? And, Sarah, if you move on, I'll watch out for you. Hopefully by then I'll be good at it.”

“Sarah,” Bertha said. “When I found you in the park, you were singing to a little girl. Why?”

“I had seen her a few times before. She was almost always singing. I needed someone to hear me, and somehow I knew this little singing girl would hear me,” I answered. And now that I was saying it out loud, it sounded crazy. Why didn't I go to the policeman, like Nick did? Why did my instincts propel me toward the strawberry-blond singing girl, Elizabeth Anne?

“Yes, of course she could hear you. Oh, Sarah. You and she are deeply connected. You knew her in her last life.” Bertha stepped toward me and took my hands in hers. “She was your mother. She's returned.”

I gasped and fell back a step. Nick put an arm around me.

“How did you know, Sarah?” he asked. But I had no answer.

“I believe you would make an excellent angel.” Bertha spoke with quiet confidence. “Even if you have a lot to learn.” (She just had to add that. Then again, it was true.) “And I, for one, am ready to move on. I need someone else to be in charge here.” Bertha was looking at me and half-smiling.

Lacey and Alice shook their heads with a violent, determined “no” on their faces. “You were just a kid when you died,” Lacey said. “You should get to have a real life.”

“And we could all meet up together,” Alice reminded me. “Alive.”

Life, in all its noisy, messy glory, pulled at me like an undertow. At the same time, a silver voice inside me tilted
toward being an angel. And oh, I didn't dare even look at Nick.

Have you ever had to make a choice that would last beyond time?

I woke up dead. At the mall. And while I was there I fell in love, found out who killed me, haunted the living, made friends, and saved my dad's life. Not a bad afterlife.

I was a daughter, a friend, a lover, a singer, a Mathlete, a New Yorker, a girl. All of my stories were woven together.

I have a new story now. I'm the girl, the angel, who helps you move on. I'm the girl, the angel, who lives here at the mall. I'm the girl, the angel, who loves Nick. He's the boy, the angel, who helps you move on too. Who loves me. Here at the mall.

We both hope that you stay safe and well. But if something should happen to you, we'll be here for you. We want to know your story.

But first, stop and listen. Can you hear that? It's the sound of life and afterlife. And it sounds exactly like music.