Casket Case

Chapter 14

He doesn’t call.

Nora wonders. She wanders. She waits.

She goes to work every day and sits at her desk, staring at her phone. At night, she drinks whatever red wine was on sale at Rabbittown Grocery and pretends to watch TV while staring at her phone. Some nights, she cries. Some nights, she gets so angry she can’t sit still. She writes texts of all varieties and never sends them.

On Tuesday, she shows up at her grandpa’s house in full mope.

He hugs her as she comes through the door, and without another word, he pours two glasses of sweet tea and sits down at his kitchen table.

“Why don’t you sit a spell and tell me what’s going on?”

She resists the urge to wilt until she’s lying on the kitchen floor because it does strike her as a little dramatic.

“Well, I talked to Garrett on Saturday and asked him for some time to think. He said he would call, but I haven’t heard from him since. I know he’s doing what I asked him to do, and he’s giving me space, but it’s making me anxious.”

“Time’s not a bad thing. Can’t always say the same for thinking.”

“I never should have gone out with him in the first place. I knew it was a mistake.”

“He’ll call.” He stands so slowly that Nora almost reaches out to help him. He opens the oven door, and the smell of Mexican cornbread fills the room. She knows he must have pintos and a ham hock in the Crock-Pot. It’s one of the simplest meals on the planet, but it’s also one of Nora’s favorites.

“You don’t know that.” She grabs the bowls and spoons and puts them on the counter next to the stove.

“He said he would. You asked for time. Give the boy a chance to sort himself out.”

“I don’t want to have to give him a chance. I don’t want any of this drama.”

“Too late for that now, girl.”

She watches as he places a piece of cornbread into the bottom of each bowl and then spoons the beans over them. He slides the bowls onto the table and reaches into the fridge for the pepper sauce. He blesses the food, and they dig in.

“How’s the store?”

“It’s good. I’ve actually been pretty busy the past few days.”

“Anyone we know?”

“No, just people making arrangements ahead of time.”

“Always happens after a big funeral, doesn’t it?”

She nods. “Oh, I’m going to Birmingham in a few weeks to get that award for Dad.”

“I forgot about that. Do you want me to ride with you?” he asks, as if his back could handle the drive to Birmingham and back.

“You don’t have to. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You’ve got my number if you change your mind.”

After dinner, they take their sweet tea to the back porch. Nora has spent half of her life on her grandparents’ back porch. When she was little, she would sit next to her grandmother and name the birds in the yard. Her grandmother had learned from her own grandmother to identify them based on their colors and their calls, and she taught the same ones to Nora. Blue jays. Chickadees. Whip-poor-wills.

They sit opposite each other at the green metal patio table, which has been on the back porch for as long as Nora can remember. Her grandparents used to sit at this table every morning with the sound of their teaspoons clinking against their mugs, dissolving the scoop of instant coffee granules into hot water.

Nora tucks her ankles underneath her chair like she always does. She watches the condensation drip down her glass and onto the table.

Without a word, Grandpa points at a bird perched on the porch railing. A cardinal with its head slightly cocked, sussing out the humans on the porch.

“Joe and Jean asked after you yesterday,” Grandpa says.

“She called me earlier today. I need to call her back.” Jean will want to know what’s going on with Garrett, but Nora has the same question. Why hasn’t he called? Why would he say he would call if he wasn’t going to call? Is he in trouble at work? Did Death find out he told someone? Is he in some interrogation room with a bright light shining in his face? Or worse? After these thoughts come the other thoughts, the ones about Nora’s plain face or frizzy hair. Or the way she talks or the way she kisses. Maybe the sex wasn’t as good as she thought. Maybe he didn’t want to date someone who had a problem with his job. Maybe he would never call again.

“I think she wants you to help with some kids’ thing at church.”

“Not like I have other things to do.”

“You’ve gotta snap out of this attitude, Eleanora.”

“I’m trying,” she says, using the tone of a scolded child.

“You know as well as anybody that the Lord does what he wants to do when he wants to do it. It’s not for us to understand.”

“Well, I don’t like being confused.”

“No moping around here. That’s your nana’s rule, and we stick to it.”

The next day, Nora writes Garrett a letter. It starts off innocently enough, but by the end, she’s cursed him in every way she can imagine. She rips it up into tiny pieces and puts it down the garbage disposal. She wishes she could forget that anything between them ever happened.

Sadness is terrible, but it’s happiness that’s the problem. She doesn’t lie awake at night thinking about her parents dying. She’s remembering her tenth birthday, when they went to see the Braves play. Or the way the house always smelled like her mom’s cooking. Or feeling Garrett next to her as she falls asleep.

“When did you talk to him last?” Jean asks the following day when Nora returns her call.

“Saturday morning,” she says. “Nothing since then. He left town again for work.”

“What exactly did he say before he left?”

Nora can’t tell her the whole truth, which reminds her of the problem with this whole thing. She paces a circle around the caskets at the front of the store. “Well, we got into an argument about his job. He works a lot. He’s gone a lot. Ed was right about Garrett being at Ethan’s accident. He just didn’t tell me about it. So, I asked for time to think about things, and he said he would call. He also said he wanted to see me on Friday, but that doesn’t seem likely anymore.”

“Why isn’t it likely?”

“Because that’s tomorrow.”

“He might call tomorrow.”

“He won’t,” Nora says. She stares out the front window, watching the people on the sidewalk. People who go on about their days without wondering if Death has deathed their boyfriend.

“How do you know he won’t call?” Jean asks.

“Why hasn’t he called before now? He clearly doesn’t care.”

She thinks back to Garrett’s work trip earlier in their relationship. She had moped around then, too. But this is a different brand of mope. Before, she had worried that the absence would show him that he didn’t want her around, after all. A cleanbreak. This time is different because of everything they have said to each other. There’s nothing clean about it.

“Or he’s giving you the space you asked for. Did you think about calling him?”

She had thought about calling and begging him to come back, reminding him what he had said about his feelings for her. She had thought about calling and cursing him out, specifying all the lives he had ruined, including hers.

“Of course I did. I also thought about blocking his phone number and moving to Alaska. I’ve thought about a lot of things this week.”

“Have you thought about being patient?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Of course I’m on your side, Eleanora.” Her tone is gentle. Jean could easily tell Nora that she got exactly what she wanted. Time to think. But she doesn’t.

“You think I should call him?”

“If you want to call him. I don’t think you’ll get anything but heartache if you keep letting your thoughts run off on their own. But I think he’ll call. Maybe he needed time, too.”

“I think he and I both need to get it together.”

“That’s one thing we can all agree on.”

—

Garrett calls Nora on Friday at 1:08 p.m.

“Hello?” Nora answers. She’s still at the store, and his call interrupted her spinning around in her desk chair to distract her from the clock.

“Hey. Is now a good time?”

Nora narrows her eyes but wills herself to settle down. To play it cool as a corpse. “Yeah, I’m not busy.”

“Are you still free tonight?”

“Well, I agreed to a date with you already, so I didn’t think I was free.” Nora has never played it cool in her life.

“I was just making sure that you…that you still want to.”

“What’s wrong with you?” She stands to add emphasis to whatever comes out of her mouth next, but he can’t see her, so maybe the emphasis is for herself.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you being so weird?”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You haven’t called me for days, and now that you finally called, you’re talking to me like you’re trying to make an appointment with your dentist.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be weird.”

Nora has agonized over this all week, and Garrett pretending that nothing happened is pushing her to her limit. Maybe he’s not pretending. Maybe he hasn’t thought about Nora at all. “Don’t do me any favors, Garrett. If you just want to be finished with all this, we can be finished.”

“Why would you think I want to be finished?”

“Because you obviously don’t want to talk to me, or you would have called.”

“I was giving you time. You asked for it, remember?”

“I also remember you saying you would call.”

“This is me calling. The literal definition of the word.”

“I’m not in the mood for any nonsense.” She can hear him trying not to laugh, but that doesn’t make her mean it any less.

“I can tell. We can talk about it tonight. Can I pick you up at the store?”

“I’ll be here.”

Nora figures the dead can wait a couple of hours for her to go home to get what she needs for her date. By the time closing rolls around, she looks as good as she can possibly look. She has on one of three new dresses she bought from a sketchy online boutique a couple of weeks ago. She’s wearing actual makeup. She straightened her frizzy hair. She did all of this at the store, strewing her belongings around the showroom like she owns the place. But she does own the place. So it’s fine.

Garrett’s Mercedes pulls up in front of the store, and she decides to stand next to her desk, so maybe it wouldn’t look like she has been waiting on him. He opens the door, and she notes that he’s also decided to look his best. He’s wearing a dark gray suit and a maroon tie, and he’s holding a bouquet of red roses.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello.” She picks up her bag from the desk and approaches him as casually as she can manage. He’s handsome. She’s weak. It’s a perfect storm for her to forget that she’s been despairing for days because of him. She stops once she gets a few steps away. He can do the rest.

“You look beautiful.” He pushes the bouquet toward her. “These are for you.”

“Thank you.” She can tell they’re expensive. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to.”

“I have a vase in the back.” He follows her past the desk and into the back room, where she locates a dusty glass vase hiding on one of the shelves. She washes it out in the sink before filling it with water and the bouquet. Then they’re both standing there, unsure of what to say.

“So, I made reservations somewhere,” he says, finally. “But I can cancel them if you want to do something else.”

“What kind of reservations?”

“It’s called ‘Miller’s on Main.’ I’ve never been, but it has good reviews.”

He really must be sorry. Miller’s is what everyone uses for weddings and fancy old-people anniversary parties. It will be very private because no one else Nora knows would be eating there on a Friday night. “Yeah, the food is great. We can go there.”

She follows him out to the car, and they’re stuck in silence again. He doesn’t turn on the radio. He doesn’t reach for her hand. She doesn’t reach for his. Why are they even doing this?

“Do you want to talk?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“You can start your list of questions.”

“I do have a list.” She pulls out the Notes app on her phone. She made a few drafts on her legal pad and then moved the final choices over to her phone. “Are you allowed to tell me all of this? Or is this some big secret that’s going to get me killed.”

He smirks. “It’s not going to get you killed. It’s not special ops.”

“It sort of seems like it if you have the power to erase my memory.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. I told you that.”

“Maybe you already did.”

“If I had done that, you would like me again.”

“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t be here.”

He reaches across to take her hand and glances over for permission. She laces their fingers together in response. “Next question.”

She looks down at her phone. “A lot of people die every day, right? And you help them all? It sounds like a Santa Claus–type job.”

“It’s a big company.”

“Do you have magic reindeer?”

“No reindeer. We contract out the high-volume jobs, which helps.”

“Can you dumb that down?”

“It wouldn’t make sense to have us in and out of hospitals all day, for example. We have logistics coordinators on staff there.”

“That’s what they’re called?”

“Yes, that’s what we’re all called.”

“And they report to you?”

“The ones in my region do.”

“So, if you’re not working in hospitals, what do you do?”

“I usually handle the more complex situations.”

“What would you call ‘complex’?”

“Accidents, usually. That’s where the logistics part comes in.”

“What if people die at home?”

“There’s a whole vertical and specialized training for that, since it can be delicate.”

“You went to Frank’s house.”

He shrugs. “He was a remote one-off, and it made sense in my schedule.”

Nora’s eyes widen. “Jesus, he was more than a ‘remote one-off’ to me, Garrett.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry. That’s just how he got on my schedule.”

“What was it like, with Frank?”

He looks over at her. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Frank was a pretty easy client.”

“Wait, why do you call them ‘clients’? That doesn’t really make sense.”

“We’re helping them.”

She hopes her look conveys the “are you kidding” that she’s feeling.

“We are helping them, Nora. I know it’s hard to see it that way, but, trust me, it’s better that someone is there to at least tell them it’s happening.”

“Tell me about Frank.”

“It was a heart condition. Those are easier than others. Most people aren’t surprised to hear they have a heart condition, and once they feel it, they know you’re telling the truth.”

“Was he in pain?”

“It was fast.” This means yes.

“Do you have something specific you say every time?”

“There are scripts. I’ve been doing the job for so long, I usually say whatever seems best. I tell them they’re going to the other side. Most people assume I mean heaven.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the other side.”

“You don’t believe in heaven?”

He smiles. “That’s a separate conversation, isn’t it?”

She accepts his diversion. “So, you just wait until, what, a sign that they’re dead?”

“I have a sensor that tells me.”

She laughs, despite the dark feeling in the pit of her stomach. “You’ll need to explain that.”

“I have one right here.” He reaches into the center console and pulls out a plastic case with his initials on it. He opens it and extracts a device that looks like an infrared thermometer. It makes a bloop bloop sound when he turns it on; then he points it at Nora, and it makes a sad video game sound.

“You’re still here,” he says. He shows her the screen, which is red except for a number in the center. “That’s your heart rate.”

“If it can sense my heart rate from over there, why are nurses still using their fingers to check for pulses?”

“I don’t need as much accuracy. It’s pretty obvious when it happens. You don’t need the little green light to tell you.”

“So, your assignment has never been wrong? The person always dies when they’re supposed to?”

“It’s never wrong.”

“Who has that list?”

“That’s above my pay grade. Above my boss’s pay grade. Above her boss’s pay grade.”

“Who’s your boss?”

“Her name is Janine. She’s the director in charge of the eastern half of the country.”

“Is she in North Dakota?”

“No, our eastern field office is in Kentucky.”

“Why are all of your offices in the middle of nowhere?”

He laughs. “Says the girl from Rabbittown. I would think you would understand.”

She rolls her eyes. “I guess there’s no one to tell your secrets.”

“I assume so. Above my pay grade.”

The trees passing outside the car window start to disappear as they get closer to town. They’re replaced with AT&T stores and Burger Kings and run-down strip malls with nail salons and a TitleMax and the Mexican restaurant that used to be a Shoney’s. Nora’s dad always gave her a hard time when she wanted to go into town with her friends, as if she were headed into the streets of a big city like Atlanta or D.C. He used to say Anniston was just big enough to get people in trouble. Maybe he meant high cholesterol and loans you can’t pay back. Maybe he meant Death.

“That’s an easy answer,” she says.

“It’s the truth.”

“Has this always been a thing?”

“Death?”

“People working for Death.”

Garrett thinks for a moment. “They’re called ‘logistics coordinators,’ and there are a lot of stories, depending on what you believe. Hermes and Charon in Greek mythology. Azrael in Islam. Saint Michael in Catholicism. Jesus giving Peter the keys to heaven. Elijah and Elisha. I guess you could also say Jesus, in a way. Or maybe God himself was the first example when Moses died.

“I’ve heard there are really old records in China that might signal the beginning of the business side of things. It’s not really something they tell you at orientation. As far as America goes, the Native Americans had their own way, other countries and their settlers had their own ways, and Theodore Roosevelt thought his ranch in North Dakota could be the right place to bring everyone together.”

“You’re telling me Theodore Roosevelt was part of this? That presidents work for Death?”

“They don’t work for Death, but it is a huge undertaking happening in their country,” he says, smirking at Nora. “No pun intended. Technically, Roosevelt wasn’t the president yet, but his mother and his wife had just died on the same day, which made him a likely candidate to want to help other people.”

Images of the Grim Reaper in the Oval Office float through her whirring mind. She feels a whole world opening up under this one, with lifetimes of knowledge she could never fully understand. She had been here, missing everything happening around her.

He pulls into a parking space in front of the restaurant, and Nora’s nerves show up. She looks down at her dress, unsure if she chose the right one. It’s a dark green wrap dress with flutter sleeves that might be a little too short and a little too low-cut for a place like Miller’s.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Sure,” she says, opening the car door.

He meets her on her side of the car and holds out his hand, so she takes it. “You look beautiful. I don’t know if I told you that.”

“You did, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”

Once they’re inside, the hostess leads them through a mostly empty restaurant to a table in the corner of a back room. The only other people are couples who could be their parents. Miller’s has low lighting and soft music, but the décor is not much different from what you would find in a cruise ship dining room. Still, it’s as upscale as you can get without going all the way to Birmingham.

“Did you request this table?” she asks once they’re alone.

“I asked for something quiet.”

“She probably thinks you’re ashamed of me. Or that I’m a prostitute.”

This is the moment the waiter arrives to explain the specials and take their drink orders. He acts as if he didn’t hear her, but all three of them know he did. She holds in her embarrassed laughter while Garrett orders a bottle of wine and whatever appetizer the waiter is trying to sell.

“I’m sorry. I don’t get out much,” she says, once the waiter has gone back to the kitchen.

Garrett fiddles with his tie, examining it for nonexistent flaws.

“Are you nervous?”

He sits up straighter, letting his tie fall back in place. “Something like that.”

They stare at each other until it becomes too much, and Nora can’t take the tension anymore. “Tell me about your trip.”

He describes the weather, the trip to Montgomery, and the bagels at his less than ideal hotel. The waiter brings the wine and a fried green tomato appetizer. He places a small white plate in front of each of them and fills their glasses. When asked if they’re ready to order entrées, Nora and Garrett both answer, “I can be” even though they haven’t opened their menus. Nora orders scallops, the first item on the list. Garrett orders the steak.

“Would you like a glass of white wine to go with your scallops?” the waiter asks.

“I’ll be fine,” Nora answers, handing him the menu. She has too much on her mind to make another decision. She doubts she will notice the taste of anything on her plate anyway.

“What do you do at the hotel at night?” she asks Garrett when they’re alone again.

“Work, usually. Watch Law & Order .” He gestures at the appetizer in front of them, encouraging her to go first.

“Like actual work?” She stabs a fried green tomato slice with her fork and drops it on the plate in front of her.

He smiles. “No, like paperwork. I have to write everything up.”

“Okay, this I don’t get. Feels sort of like a done deal. Why do the details matter?”

He uses his knife to cut his tomato slice in half and then into fourths. “Well, we don’t want to get sued.”

She laughs. “A dead person can’t sue you. Who would sue Death?”

“If you can sue McDonald’s, you can sue Death.”

“Do you get sued often?”

“Probably. I assume the legal team takes care of it.”

“What do you mean ‘takes care of it’?”

He tilts his head. “You always jump to dramatic conclusions. I don’t work for Tony Soprano.”

“Do you hear yourself, or should I repeat it back to you? I’m pretty sure…” She glances around to make sure no one is listening to them, and of course no one is listening because they’re practically sitting in the alley behind the restaurant. “Your whole job is ‘taking care of it.’?”

“Fair enough. What did you do this week?”

She thinks back to despairing on the couch. “Nothing interesting.”

“It’s interesting to me.”

She rolls her eyes. “I doubt that.”

“Well, talking about my job all night is certainly not interesting.”

“Fine. If you want to know, I’ll tell you.” She takes a large gulp of wine. “I opened the store every day. Rabbittown has been pretty uneventful this week, so I wasn’t busy. I had dinner with my grandpa on Tuesday.”

“Where did you go?” he asks.

“His house. We haven’t ventured out since you took Frank.”

His eyes widen.

“Am I not allowed to joke about it?”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

“You did take my fried okra supplier without any warning.”

“We can go to KFC when we leave here.”

Her mouth drops open. “KFC? Listen to this accent. Do you really think I am talking about fried okra from a drive-thru?”

“I’ll learn how to make it.”

“That might be worse.”

“Stop deflecting. I want to hear about your week.”

“Well, since we’re telling each other the truth now, I mostly spent it waiting for you to call, and you never did. I watched TV. I drank wine. That’s about it.”

He runs his hand over his hair, which she recognizes as a sign of frustration. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s my prerogative to be pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic, but you are the one who asked for time. I gave you time.”

“You caused this whole situation, Garrett. Don’t come at me with that shit.”

“You’re really mad at me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She’s feeling so many things, and one of them is anger. None of this is fair, and most of it is his fault.

Thanks to God or the kitchen staff or a little of both, at that moment the entrées arrive, saving Nora from a righteous tirade. They’re supposed to be talking about everything, but she doesn’t want to fight about it. There’s no point in yelling at each other about the past. She wants to figure out where to go from here.

The waiter slides Nora’s plate in front of her on the table. Maybe it was misguided for her to order seafood when the restaurant is six hours from the ocean, but the scallops on her plate are obviously for fancy people. They’re stacked perfectly on top of a bed of rice and roasted vegetables, and it looks like someone has used a paintbrush to swipe a red sauce around the edge of the plate. Most of Nora’s usual sauces come from tiny plastic tubs. Could someone like her get used to living like this?

“That looks amazing,” she says, gesturing to the giant steak on Garrett’s plate.

“Yeah, it does, but you’re not changing the subject.”

She rolls her eyes (again) and turns her attention to her food.

Garrett adds, “I’ll wait until you’re ready to talk about it.”

“What if that never happens?”

He shrugs. “Maybe I’ll keep pushing your buttons until you start talking.”

She flips a scallop around her plate, trying to pin it down so she can cut it with her knife. “I just don’t like this situation. I don’t have any control over it.”

“You do have control.” He cuts into his steak, and red juice runs all over his plate and into his potatoes. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“I thought I did until you disappeared for days.”

“I swear I had to work.” He puts his utensils down and takes her hand, fork and all, so that he has her full attention. “You can’t think it was easy for me to leave when things are like this between us?”

Does she really think he was lying about work? No. Does she want him to hurt a bit? Yes. “Seemed easy enough to me.”

“It wasn’t. I was thinking about you the whole time. I couldn’t sleep for thinking about you.”

“Will you please eat your food now?”

He huffs his disapproval but goes back to cutting his steak.

She doesn’t want to eat in silence, so she thinks of some of the questions from the list. “Do you have meetings?”

He nods. When he finishes chewing he says, “I usually call in from the field.”

“Who do you meet with?”

“Depends. I have a one-on-one with Janine every Monday. I have one-on-ones with my direct reports.”

“Who are your direct reports?”

“A few district managers. I stop by the district offices a couple of times a year, but it’s usually just a phone call.”

“They have offices?”

He takes a drink of his wine and points at her meal. “If I have to eat, you have to eat.”

She looks down at the two scallops remaining, along with everything else on the plate. “Fine. But answer my question.”

“Yes, they have offices. Desks, copy machines, the works. We have local offices that take care of everything in their area and report to the district offices. Then the district offices report to people like me.”

“You don’t have an office?”

“No, I gave it up when I took this promotion.”

“Would you want an office? It seems like that would be a good thing.”

He thinks for a moment. “I would probably want to settle down eventually, but I would have to move to one of the main field offices or to North Dakota.”

“Probably a dumb question, but that would be a promotion?”

“Yes.”

“Is that your goal?”

He puts his fork on his completely empty plate and picks up his wineglass. He swirls the wine around a bit before answering. “I don’t know what my goal is. I don’t want to move to North Dakota.”

Nora laughs. “I can’t imagine why not.”

“Would you ever move?” he asks.

“Would I leave Rabbittown?”

“Yes.”

She thinks of a few flippant responses, but she knows she should be honest tonight of all nights. “Do you mean in general or do you mean with you to North Dakota?”

“Both. Either. I don’t know.”

She puts down her fork and gives up on whatever is left on the plate. As if he had been lurking in the corner, the waiter appears to clear plates and refill glasses with the wine left in the bottle.

“I do have the store and the house to think about, but it’s not a no. North Dakota might be a no, but I’ve never been there, so I probably shouldn’t judge prematurely.”

“That’s a logical response.”

“Sometimes I’m a logical person.”

“This is going to sound like a different question than it is, but could we go somewhere to talk? I don’t care where.”

She smiles because she can’t help herself. The feelings haven’t gone away. “Yes, to talk. I guess your apartment is closest.”

On the way there, she keeps working down the list of questions, and the answers are boring and unhelpful. She wants to get a full sense of the company so she can understand, and Garrett has no problem telling her all about staff meetings and orientation and company picnics. Death seems as dull as any other corporation.

When they get to his apartment, he says, “This might help.” He holds up a finger, then gestures to his work bag, lying on the dining room table, and retrieves a packet of papers from it. He rifles through until he finds a large sheet of paper that has been folded to fit into the stack. When he spreads it out, it’s an organizational chart bigger than the table. It’s the size of a bedsheet. She points at the symbol in the corner, the same one she had seen on his business card.

“What does this mean?”

“It’s a logo,” Garrett says. “I heard it used to be the staff with two snakes that Hermes carried, but that became too popular in regular culture, so they started using the keys of Hades.”

Nora traces the lines from the executives at the top to logistics coordinators, analysts, and administrative assistants at the bottom. There are dotted lines that disappear over the edges of the page, indicating other teams and employees not listed. The font is almost too tiny to read, but she can tell that many of the rectangles have the word “Vacant.”

“What happened to these people?”

“They went somewhere else or retired.” He points at a section in the middle of the page. “This whole team is new, so they have to hire everybody.”

“What do you mean ‘went somewhere else’?”

“Got a new job offer.”

“So, you wouldn’t, like, off them?”

He laughs. “No, Nora.”

“How do you list Death on a résumé?”

“Our offices have signs out front with business names other than Death. It depends on where you’re located.”

“Where do you work after Death?”

“Another Fortune 500 company usually. Airlines, pharma, sometimes the government. A guy who started with me is running for state senator now.”

“I thought this was a big secret.”

“I bet you don’t know what half the companies on that list do. No one does.”

She’s too fascinated by the map in front of her to go down that rabbit hole. “Wait, what are all these departments? Communications, HR? Why do you need those?”

“Same reason anyone else does.”

“Death has Human Resources?”

“Well, yeah. We have to hire new employees. They also handle the disciplinary stuff, like write-ups or sexual harassment or whatever.”

“Death has sexual harassment training?”

“I think you’re imagining a Grim Reaper convention. We’re like every other company in this country: a bunch of old white men at the top making decisions that don’t make a lot of sense or affect them in any way, while the rest of us down here”—he gestures to the bottom half of the paper—“wait patiently for them to retire so we can update things.”

She nods as she tries to take this in. She also notices that the squares at the top don’t have names in them. “What is this?”

“Board of directors. No one knows who they are. You could probably make some accurate guesses, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re a pretty smart girl who reads the physical newspaper every— Ugh,” he grunts when she pokes him in the ribs. “You pay attention to things, and you didn’t know the company existed. We must have some friends in high places.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“I don’t really think about it.”

“You don’t care who you’re working for?” There’s too much happening in her head to keep standing, so she sits down on the couch.

“I like my director and my team. I’m good at the job. The rest of it doesn’t really affect me.”

“It affects everyone on the planet, Garrett.”

He walks across the room to stand in front of her. “I think you know what’s really bothering you about this, and it’s not the secrets. Can we please talk about it?”

She takes a breath to try and collect her thoughts. “You’re right. My problem is with the job itself.”

“These people are dying, Nora. You know me. You can’t think I go around killing people for a living.”

“No one is dying until you get there. That’s how you explained it to me. It’s not a coincidence, so stop acting like you’re just an innocent person stumbling into it.”

“I am an innocent person.”

“You know for a fact that a person is going to die, and you don’t do anything to try to stop it.” When it comes out, she knows this is the truth she’s been tiptoeing around in her brain.

“I couldn’t if I wanted to.” His voice is pleading, and he sits down next to her as if his nearness would change her mind. “I don’t control death.”

“When Frank was dying, you had all day to call a doctor, and you didn’t.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“You get a list every day of people dying around you, and you let them.”

“You really think I could stop Death? No one can do that. It wouldn’t work.”

“My problem is that you’ve never tried. How have you never tried?”

He runs his hand through his hair. “Say I did try. How many do you think I would save before the company realized they were short on deaths? One? Two, tops?”

“I don’t know.”

“What would that do? They would replace me with someone else and keep going. This is bigger than me.”

“?‘What would that do?’?” she repeats, standing up from the couch. “It would save one person! It would save their family and their friends and everyone else who loves them. It could change everything. Multiple people knew my parents were going to die, and not one of them called to say not to get in the car. And you think that’s okay.”

He stands up next to her. “I have a dead brother, remember? No one can change fate, but at least someone helped him understand what was happening to him.”

“Why does it have to be this job? There are so many jobs out there where you could help people.”

“I wasn’t there when my brother died. Our parents didn’t want my sister and me in the room, as if that would make it easier for us. I never forgave myself for not asking more questions so I could understand what was going on. I knew they were keeping something from us, but I also understood that they didn’t want me to press it, so I didn’t.”

“You were a child, Garrett.”

“That doesn’t change how it feels. I should have been there with him. When Aaron got sick, I started sleeping in his room with him. We would talk about everything. The leukemia, the chemo, whatever movie we had just seen, the funny things our dog would do every day. I should have been there at the end, too.

“My job is not to end someone’s life. My job is to make a really hard thing easier. To be a calming presence or someone with the answers or a shoulder to cry on. Whatever they need in that moment when they have to leave everything and everyone behind.

“I didn’t get to be with my brother, but I’m glad someone else was. I’m glad this job exists. I’m proud to be part of it, even if it means I have to keep it from the people in my life.”

“That feels like an idealistic answer.”

“It’s the only answer I have.”

“Or do they just pay you enough to have that answer?”

He shakes his head and turns away from her.

“Say whatever you want to say to me. Might as well get it out now,” she says.

He turns back. “You judge me for taking money from Death when you do the same thing. Your parents did the same thing.”

“You don’t know anything about my parents. Don’t pretend that anything I do is the same as what you do. I sell a box for the bodies you leave lying around. Actually, why doesn’t Death just take the bodies, too? Line your pockets with more money.”

“I’m not going to apologize for the money. You don’t know what my life has been like or my family’s life. I help people move on as peacefully as possible, and then I take the money I’m owed for the service. Leukemia treatments weren’t cheap. College wasn’t cheap. You took over the store for your family, and I do this for mine.”

“Do you really think your parents would be fine with that arrangement?”

“I don’t need their permission.” He pauses for a breath. “This is getting out of hand. I don’t want to fight with you.” He holds up his hands in surrender and sits back down on the couch.

“What if it were me? You know eventually someone you work with will know I’m dying, and they won’t do or say anything to stop it. Is that fine with you?”

“No, I wouldn’t be fine if you died, but you can’t stop Death, Nora. It doesn’t matter what I want. You’re going to die anyway. So am I. It’s part of life.”

She feels her head nodding as she takes in what he’s said. She sits next to him on the couch and puts her hand on top of his. “I’ve spent my whole life around grieving people. I know you said you get used to it, but I guess I haven’t. I love you, but I can’t be part of this.”

He grabs her hand, and she can tell he’s not planning to let go. “Please, give me a chance, Nora. Please. I’ll change whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Looking into his pleading eyes, Nora knows he’s telling the truth. She knows he would change everything for her. She also knows what the answer to her next question will be. “What if you had gotten my grandpa’s name over the past couple of months? What would you have done?”

He glances at the floor and back to her, and that’s all she needs to see. “I’ve never been in that position before. I’ve never thought about it.”

“Can you take me home?”

He doesn’t protest. As they drive out of the city toward Rabbittown, the lights get fewer and farther between, and eventually they’re in the dark except for his headlights.

They don’t say anything for a while, until Garrett clears his throat. “I would have told you, Nora. I just had never thought about it. Of course I would have told you.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“Please, give me a chance. You said you loved me.”

His voice breaks her a little more inside. “I do love you. I just can’t do this.”

“What about more time? Take some time to think about it.”

“I don’t need time.”

“Please, don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth, Garrett.”

He doesn’t say anything else until he pulls into Nora’s driveway. He turns off the car and the lights. “I know you’ve made up your mind, but I want to say something first.”

She nods because she can’t speak.

“I heard everything you said, and I respect your decision. But I’m not going anywhere. I know we’re supposed to be together. I’ll wait as long as I have to wait for you to see it, too.”

The tears Nora has been holding in for the last few hours start to fall, and Garrett takes one of her hands and laces their fingers together. She looks up at him and sees the same person she’s always seen. The man she’s loved since she laid eyes on him. She sees everything with him: marriage, kids, growing old together. She leans forward and kisses his cheek the way she’s done so many times before.

“Don’t make this any harder,” she whispers.

He lets go of her hand and sits back in his seat. “You’ll see, and I’ll be here when you do.”