I’m starting with an apology because this is totally going to be a “Back To The Future 2” in the sense that it’s serving exclusively as a bridge to part 3. Didn’t know there was going to be a part 3? I didn’t either, but today is my first day off in two weeks and I’ve come down with a severe case of the “I don’t wanna”s. To be fair, I cleaned the kitchen, the carpet, even braved Costco on a Sunday, so the fact that I’ve about run out of steam might be a little more understandable. Alas, I promise part 3 tomorrow (unless something better comes along for tomorrow), and part 2 will get you there! —Jordy

Previously: Part 1

“When I got here you were doing an admirable job,” Saint Andrew Avenillo explained. “I didn’t think intervening seemed prudent.” He gestured to where the light had winked out moments before when the recently departed Jimmy Woo crossed over. “Clearly that assessment was correct.”

“Where were you when my husband threw my body into the ravine over there?”

“Scusami, signora,” he said with genuine sorrow, “I do not know why I am sent to some places but not others. The assignments come from a higher authority,” he said casting his eyes skyward.

Elaine followed his gaze, then gave the sky the middle finger. “Some help he’s been.”

“Signora, I strongly advise against such profanity.”

Elaine looked at Saint Andrew curiously, then batted her lashes and arched an eyebrow, “Oh, Saint Andrew,” a wicked smile on her face, “I haven’t begun to be profane. Finding out your husband is cheating on you? Confronting him? Then having him kill you? That, I strongly believe, earns me the right to be profane to whomever I so choose.”

“Signora Elaine, forgive me. I am not privy to the circumstances of your death. I take it your husband murdered you?”

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you don’t catch on quick, Saint Andrew.”

“Yes,” he blinked. “If I may ask, what are you doing out here?”

“Body disposal. My asshole husband rolled me up in a carpet, threw me in the back of our Range Rover, and tossed me and that rug into the ravine down there,” she gestured with her thumb over her shoulder.

“I see,” Saint Andrew paused. “But, I do not understand, what are you still doing, here?”

“’Here,’ this road in the middle of nowhere or ‘here’, this plane of existence – why I haven’t trundled off to lightville like Jimmy just did?”

“Mmm, both, yes? Specifically, the former, but I’m curious about the latter as well.”

“I don’t know why I’m trapped out here, but I can’t leave. Everytime I do I’m right back next to my body and that god-awful area rug – his mistress, our designer, picked that damn rug out. I don’t think he realized that. He certainly wouldn’t have thought to make such an ironic statement of throwing me out in his mistress’s area rug,” she scoffed. “As to why I haven’t crossed over, the opportunity hasn’t presented itself. If I had to guess it’s because I’m supposed to ‘avenge my death,’” she said dramatically, “Or something like that. Which, mind you, I’m more than happy to do. That bastard has it coming…”

“Ah,” Saint Andrew said with a flourish of his hand. “We can discuss the avenging part in a moment,” he said, “but you being stuck here is a matter of energy. You see, as a ghost, you can manifest, but you are still attached to your body – stray too far from your body and you lose energy. Come si dice, run out of steam?” Elaine nodded in understanding. “You get so far from your anchor…”

“My body.”

“Si, and then you lose energy and… fade out. Then, like a dead battery – scusami, no pun intended – your spirit regains its strength from your body and you wake up.”

“Okay,” Elaine said in acknowledgement. “Any advice on how to break this cycle and get me back to San Francisco so I can rain ghostly vengeance on my dear hubby?”

“I’m afraid there is no way for you to escape this trap. What is worse, each time to try to venture too far and fade out you are weakening your spirit energy. If you were to keep it up you would fade out completely and either become an empty spirit with no memory of your past just wandering the countryside, or you’d just wink out of existence.”

“Thank you for that news, Saint Andrew the downer.”

“However,” he started.

“I like howevers,” she brightened.

“You did me a favor with Signor Jimmy, the least I can do is return the favor.”

“Pass me on?”

“I am afraid not, Signore Elaine. That is something you need to attain yourself. But when it comes to energy, it is hard to find more than is contained in an angel,” he waggled his eyebrows. “I can untether you.”

“Aww, you would do that for me, Andrew?”

“Of course, Signore Elaine,” he said. “Certain events of late have convinced me that sometimes a little retribution is in order.”

Elaine indicated to the sky with her eyes, “Sure he’s not going to mind?”

“Oh, no,” Saint Andrew replied. “I am given my powers with a wide discretion to use them as I see fit. Besides, what is the phrase? ‘Better to ask forgiveness than to get permission’?”

“I like the cut of your jib, Saint Andrew,” Elaine smiled. “Lay on Macduff!”

We’re doing another two-parter this weekend (though it might be longer, we’ll see). Tomorrow is my first day off in two weeks, so we’ll see what this turns into then. Until then you might remember a character from last year… —Jordy

“What do we have here?” the tall woman in a black evening gown smiled at the man shivering on the side of the road staring at the smashed car in the street. The blue and red flashing lights from the CHP cruisers blocking the road lit the desolate area but didn’t illuminate either the woman nor the man.

“You… you can see me?” he asked her, eyes wide.

“Yes of course I can,” then turned to regard the scene. The carcass of an enormous elk – or at least what was left of it – littered the road in front of what was left of a late model Toyota Corolla. In front of the elk on the road, highlighted by one of the CHP cruisers headlights lay a black sheet. “Let me guess,” she looked at the gold watch on her slender wrist, then put a finger to her lips, “you were leaving work.” She looked at him, “kitchen staff?”

“Umm, no, waiter,” he blinked confusedly.

“Ah, of course. Black slacks, black button-down, should have seen that… Anyway, you were leaving work after closing, driving maybe a little too fast, weren’t wearing your seatbelt and weren’t expecting an elk to be moseying across the road. How am I doing?”

“Uh…” he started. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said, “But I always wear my seatbelt!” he added.

“Just not this time.”

“Just not this time,” he trailed off guiltily. “Who are you? Some sort of detective?”

“Well, detective was a hobby. A hobby that got me killed, but that’s a longer story.” She turned to him and offered her hand. “Elaine Higby,” she said.

“Jimmy Woo,” he offered his hand. “Why am I so cold, Ms. Higby?”

“Elaine, Jimmy, you’re not at work anymore. You’re cold because you’re dead.” The statement didn’t register. She pointed a manicured finger at the sheet. “That’s you,” she said. “I wasn’t here when it happened, but that elk arrested your cars momentum abruptly shooting you through the windshield,” she pointed to the gaping hole in the shattered windshield of the car, “like human cannonball. Unfortunately,” she traced the path from the windshield to the sheet slowly in the air, “you didn’t have a net.” Turning back to him, “Does that help?”

Eyes wide with incredulity, he shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. I can’t be dead…”

“I’m sorry, Jimmy, but facts are facts…”

“How am I here talking to you?”

“Sorry, let me amend – you’re dead and a ghost.”

“A ghost? What? Why?”

“I don’t really know. There’s usually something about unfinished business – at least that’s why I suspect I’m here still. Then there’s really violent deaths that imprint places…” she regarded him with a wary eye. “No, those generally aren’t particularly conversant… No, I suspect you’re probable the last category: too surprised to know you’re even dead.”

“I can’t be dead!” he insisted.

“Hmm,” she tilted her head. “Well, that makes my case…”

“What about my girlfriend? My son?!” tears started filling his eyes.

“Jimmy,” she said with real concern, “I’m sorry. I really am. Sometimes I can come off a little… I don’t know… flippant.”

“You think?!” he scoffed.

“Guilty,” she replied, holding up a hand in acknowledgement. “It’s just I’ve been up here for a while, just me and the flora and fauna. I guess I’ve gotten a little jaded. But, yes, your girlfriend and your son…” she paused. “They will miss you terribly. But there is no coming back from this,” she said gesturing to the sheet.

“No, no, no…” he stammered, sitting on the guardrail as tears streamed down his face.

“Jimmy, can you listen to me for a moment?” He turned his face up to her. “You don’t want to be here, not like this. Not like me,” she gestured to her dress. “Frankly, I’m stuck here. I’m still figuring out the details, but that’s my reality. That doesn’t have to be yours.”

“What do you mean?” he sniffled and wiped at his eyes.

“You need to acknowledge this,” she waved her hand taking in the scene. “You need to accept you’re not here. That sucks. It’s terrible, and it’s going to be horrible for your girlfriend, your son, and everyone who loves you. But,” she reached down and took his hands, “there’s nothing you can do. You’re gone. You belong with those you love that have already passed on. You need to be with them. The living? They’ll sort all this out. That’s what they do. That’s the human condition.”

“Human condition?”

“We love hard, we mourn hard. There wouldn’t be beauty if there wasn’t pain,” she gave him a sad smile. “It sounds cliché, but it’s true.”

“But… I don’t want to be dead!”

“Jimmy, I don’t want to be dead either.” She closed her eyes and shook her head, “we don’t always get what we want. But there’s something you need.”

“What’s that?”

“Peace,” her voice soft. Then she added, “And maybe a hug.” She didn’t finish the last word before Jimmy threw his arms around her in a desperate embrace. She hugged him back as she felt his body wracked in sobs.

After a few moments he pulled back, wiped his face again and said, “I’m really dead.”

“You are, Jimmy, you are.”

Across the street a light erupted that bathed the scene in a warm golden glow.

“Huh,” Elaine said. “So that’s what that looks like.”

“Is that?”

“The ‘light’? Yeah, I think it is. And I think it’s here for you.”

“Really?” he asked. She nodded. “You accepted your death. It’s time to be at peace.”

“Halmi?” he squinted.

Elaine looked after his gaze and barely was able to make out an elderly woman in the light. “Your grandmother?”

Jimmy nodded, a smile on his face.

“Go, Jimmy.” Without a word he stood up and slowly walked across the street. As he did the stooped woman moved far enough out of the light for Elaine to get a good look at the elderly woman. She met Jimmy partway across and hugged him tightly. They separated and she took his hand and started to lead him into the light. He stopped and looked back at Elaine and mouthed the words, “Thank you” before continuing into the light which brightened and then winked out as quickly as it started.

Jimmy was gone.

“Well, shit.” She said with a sigh. “Back to stuck in this goddamn forest with no one to talk to.”

“And yet,” came an accented voice, “You helped that young man pass over.”

Elaine turned startled, “Who are you?!”

“Hello, I’m Saint Andrew Avenillo,” The tall wiry man in a long, white, billowy robe and an aquiline nose spoke with a light Italian accent. “Signorina Elaine, you may call me Andrew. I am the angel of sudden death. I’m here to help signore Jimmy pass on. But it looks like you took care of that for me…”

Part 2

My fiancé beats me home by an hour on most days, so when I opened the door to our new apartment and found her already in comfy clothes curled up in front of the television I wasn’t surprised. I was, however, surprised by the orange bob-tailed cat purring audibly as it stood on her chest happily accepting purrs.

“Hey Sweetie,” I said by way of greeting. “Where’d the cat come from?”

She giggled as the cat rubbed its face on her outstretched hand and purred louder. “I don’t know!” she laughed. “He was in here when I got home. I figured he must have gotten in through a window or something. I was going to put him out, but he started purring and… his cuteness got the better of me.” She tickled the sides of the cat’s face with the fingertips of both hands. “Didn’t you? Didn’t your cuteness beat me!” she said to the cat in an exaggerated baby voice.

“Huh,” I said, crossing to the couch. The cat, spying another human to pet him, crossed down Amy’s torso and up her outstretched leg to the top of the armrest so I could pet him appropriately. Which, of course, I did. “He is adorable,” I admitted. “Unfortunately, there’s an explicit ‘no pets’ clause in the lease. The owner is meeting me here tomorrow after work to install smoke detectors – we can’t have Mr. Tabby here when the owner gets here.”

Amy gave me an exaggerated pout face, but then agreed, “Yeah, I knew we couldn’t keep him. He’s really healthy so he’s probably one of the neighbor’s cats.” She sat up and scratched behind his ears and started in the baby talk, “Aren’t you just the opportunist? Yes you are!”

“Did you get those Command hooks?” I asked, stepping over one of the as-yet-not-unpacked boxes.

“They’re on the kitchen counter,” she said, and I went into the kitchen looking. “Hey, can we keep him for the night at least?”

I turned back to her and the cat gave out a well-timed, “Meowr?” that melted any objection I could mount. “Yeah,” I said, “but you’re in charge of any kitty accidents in the night!”

“I’ll keep a wary eye on Senor Flufferbutz!”

When we woke up the next morning we could find no sign of the cat. Imagining he might have hidden in a partially unpacked box, we searched the small apartment looking for him. “He probably went out whatever way he got it,” Amy suggested.

“Agreed,” I said folding closed the lid of a kitchen box, “but I don’t want to leave him in the house if he didn’t. What time do you remember him getting off the bed?”

“I went to the bathroom at three and he was still on the bed when I got back.” She shrugged. “When the alarm went off two hours later he was gone. I don’t remember him actually getting off. Do you?”

I shook my head. “I also want to know how he got in here,” I said. “If he can get in here, what’s to say an opossum or a trash panda can’t get in here?”

“Now that’s a scary thought!” she said folding closed the last box. “Okay, officially not in the house.”

I hugged her and gave her a kiss.

When I got home that evening, the owner of the property climbed out of his black Mercedes just as I pulled into the driveway. And met me with a small toolbox and Home Depot bag in one hand and his other hand out to shake. “Amir,” he shook my hand warmly. “How was work?”

“Good, Mr–“ he cut me off with a tilt of his head, “…Dave. It was good. How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks! I hope this is an okay time for this?”

“Totally fine,” I said, reaching into the backseat of the car for my laptop bag.

“How are you guys liking the place? Are you totally moved in?”

“We absolutely love it! And, yeah, we turned in the keys to our old place on Monday.”

“Glad to have you two!” he said. “My mom loved this place, so I’m glad it’s lived in again.”

“Oh?” I asked, locking the car with the key fob. “She didn’t live here for a while?”

“No, she spent her last year in a nursing facility. I didn’t want to do anything with the place because we kept hoping she’d be able to come home to it.” His eyes took on a glassy sheen with the memory. “Wishful thinking,” he said, a slight catch in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Dave” was all I could think to say.

“Thanks,” he said, deliberately brightening. “Let’s get these things installed so you guys can enjoy your evening!”

We moved to the door and I unlocked it and opened it. I had texted Amy when I left work reminding her I’d be meeting the owner when I got home, so I knew she wouldn’t be surprised by the guest. However, as the door opened I saw the cat standing with an arched back languidly accepting a pet. Amy, froze mid-pet. I quickly turned around to block Dave’s view of the prohibited feline, but he had already seen the cat. What’s worse, his face had completely washed out and his eyes bulged.

For a heartbeat, I admired the tableau: Amy, her face a mask of guilt, the cat wondering why the petting had stopped, and Dave frozen with terror on his face.

I broke the silence by apologizing, “Dave, I’m so sorry, I know the no-pets policy. The cat found a way into the house…”

“That cat!” he stammered.

I appreciated that we were violating the lease, but I thought this flabbergasted performance might be a little of an overreaction…

“That’s my mom’s cat!” he said.

“Oh!” I said, relieved. “He probably came back to his old neighborhood… Was he staying with you or another relative?”

Dave finally took his wide eyes off the cat and moved his gaze to me. “That cat died five years ago.”

“Mrawr?”