Chapter 24 #2
“It’s not ridiculous at all,” Kimberly said, leaning on Alice’s shoulder and nestling in, as if they were watching TV.
If only this whole thing was some TV show.
“I can see exactly why a guy like that would need someone like you. If he’s anything like his character in the book, he’s adrift and needs an anchor—emotionally, mentally.
A job like that, a history like his… He’s gotta have major trust issues, and you’re obviously someone he can trust.”
Alice groaned. “Oh, don’t psychoanalyze him from what we wrote in the book. Besides, you said yourself that anchors can hold you back.”
“Sure, if you’re anchored to the wrong things. But you could be perfect together because you’re so different. Some people need more anchoring and some people need less. Maybe he needs stability and you need freedom, so between the two of you…”
“Wouldn’t that put us at cross-purposes?
Literally a push-pull? Anyway, he wants to go back to his old job, in the field.
I could never handle having a partner who did a job like that—again, not that it’s an option available to me.
Can you imagine me, waiting and worrying?
It was bad enough when I dated that guy who used to go rock climbing on weekends.
I need to fall in love with an accountant whose only hobby is riding a stationary bike, and whose biggest risk is the commute to his office.
Better still, an accountant who works from home and has agoraphobia.
” Alice put her arm around Kimberly’s shoulders.
Regular girl-talk was so much more comforting than discussions of espionage and cancer.
“And you’ll find an excuse not to take a risk with the accountant, too,” Kimberly said.
“But yes, I suppose having an international man of mystery for a boyfriend wouldn’t help with your fear of losing someone you love.
It’s just—you have so much love to give, and you’re running out of people to give it to.
Love is always a risk, whether he’s an accountant or a spy. ”
“It’s the degree of risk though. If a relationship with an accountant is too risky for me, then…”
“And that’s not just an excuse…?”
“If it is, it’s a damn good one—you gotta admit.”
“You know…” Kimberly said, sitting up and adjusting her scarf. “I did some more reading up last night, about his situation.”
“Kimberly, I don’t think he wants to be psychoanalyzed.”
“If you’re gonna be in his life, it’s good to know what might be going on in his head.”
“I’m not gonna be in his life. This is a blip in both our lives. A glitch in the space-time continuum that’s shoved together two unlikely people.”
“I don’t have time for your will-they-won’t-they,” Kimberly said, sounding more like the bossy little sister Alice knew and loved.
“Thing is, as we both know, even if you’ve seen a person you love die right in front of you and you have a body to mourn, there’s a strong sense of disbelief, right?
There’s something about having the body there in front of you—even in a casket, even if you don’t see it—that helps you let go.
It’s called a ‘definitive separation.’ There’s even a theory that it might be impossible to let a loved one go unless you go through some kind of farewell ritual.
So if your loved one is missing, your grief can get frozen.
Plus—omigod there is so much to this—saying goodbye can feel like a betrayal. ”
“And somehow we’re no longer talking about you,” Alice said, shaking her head. “You’re very good at that.”
“And you always say that, as soon as any conversation about you starts to get interesting. And hey, it’s my job, and you’re my only ‘client’ left.
Not to mention that my life is dull, dull, dull.
” Kimberly flopped back down. “That’s what no one talks about—how boring it is to die from cancer.
Appointment to appointment, being too tired to do fun stuff.
They don’t tell you that you’ll be too damn exhausted and nauseous to do a single thing on the damn bucket list—do you know how much pressure there is to tick all those things off, when they’re the last thing you can be bothered doing?
No, the only adventure that’s in my future is the one in my next existence, whatever that is. ”
“Oh, Kimmy…”
“I don’t fear it, you know, what’s coming,” Kimberly said, turning to face Alice.
Her distant look had been replaced by a hyper-intense focus.
“I have this conviction there will be something on the other side of this for me. I’m even a little bit excited that I’m going to find out before any of my friends.
The big question about existence, and I’m about to get an answer.
My journey will continue, I’m sure of that.
I’m just going to miss you and Malik being there with me.
Sorry, I’m blathering. It’s the drugs. They’ve changed my dosage. I’m all over the place.”
“I think I believe that too—the whole ‘death is not the end’ thing.”
“That’s where religion came from, right?
A collective refusal to believe in the nothingness beyond mortal existence, to fill that terrifying void.
Because no one wants to believe in ‘the end.’ I should write a book about it.
Seriously. There are so many books out there for grieving loved ones.
Not so many about how to die. That’s it.
I’m going to write a book and call it How To Die.
It’ll be my legacy. Shit, should have thought of that six months ago. How long does it take to write a book?”
“You’ll live on forever in my head, if that makes you feel better. I hear your voice on my shoulder a lot: ‘What would Kimberly say?’”
“That does make me feel better. That’s it then—I intend to haunt you for the rest of your days.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. Bring it in, sis.” Kimberly opened her arms, and Alice leaned into the hug.
“Alice?” Kimberly said, after a few seconds.
“Yeah?”
“You’re hugging me gently. Don’t hug me gently. Hug me fiercely.”
Alice obeyed, fighting hard to swallow the tears.
“Better. Hey, if I’m haunting you, maybe you can literally ghostwrite my How to Die book after I die?”
“That would be an excellent publicity angle.”
“Slow going on a Ouija board though.”
“Jackpot, hopefully!” Carter’s loud voice made Alice jump. She and Kimberly sprang apart. “One flash drive, built into the heel of one of the platforms,” he said, holding it up as he walked in.
Kimberly’s cell phone rang, and she fished it from her pocket. It took Alice a while to recognize the ringtone—“Let It Be” by the Beatles.
“Holy shit,” Kimberly said, looking at the screen. “It says The Washington Post. The Washington Post is calling me.”
“Don’t answer it, for God’s sake. Why would they be calling? Hang up!”
Kimberly did, shakily.
Carter strode up and held out a hand. “Kimberly, can I borrow your phone for a second?”
“Sure,” she said, holding it out.
Carter grabbed it and tapped away for a few seconds. “It’s on their homepage,” he said grimly. “Former CIA agent Carter Beck, who is the subject of an FBI manhunt…”
Alice jumped to her feet. “A manhunt now?” she said, speed-reading over Carter’s shoulder. “Police say the couple should both be treated as dangerous and should not be approached. Me, dangerous? Have they spoken to anyone who’s ever met me?”
Kimberly clapped, triumphantly. “‘The couple’! They’ve called you a couple!”
Carter swore. “They’re setting up an expectation that they can bring us in by force.”
“Force,” Alice said. “What kind of force?”
“Someone’s not planning to play this clean. On the other hand,” Carter added in a lighter tone, noting the expression on Alice’s face, “they also say your book is fast becoming this summer’s blockbuster!”
Malik grabbed Alice’s arm. “Alice, you gotta stay and sort this out. We’ll call this investigator. She seemed reasonable. Tell her you’ll come quietly.”
Kimberly pushed up to standing, using the arm of the sofa. “No, we won’t! Alice, go! You’re giving me something to live for, so to speak.”
“Kimberly, would you stop? This is not a joke. None of this is funny. Alice, don’t listen to her—it’s the drugs talking.”
“It is not!” Kimberly said. “Not all of it.”
Carter looked at Alice. “Time we got out of here,” he said, before turning to Malik. “Give us a few minutes before you call it in, okay?”
“You seriously want us to call the FBI?” Kimberly said.
“I don’t want you guys getting charged as accessories.”
“Carter can go,” Malik said. “I don’t want him anywhere near my family. But Alice, you need to stay.”
Alice held up her hands, placatingly. “Malik, I promise I’ll hand myself in, just as soon as we find out what’s on that flash drive.”
“And what if they shoot you on sight?”
“I won’t let that happen,” Carter said, quiet and sure.
“Oh right, because you’re some kind of bullet-repelling superhero. Look,” Malik added, relenting, “at least give me a number where I can reach you if … if I need to?”
“If I start dying for real, he means,” Kimberly said.
Malik stepped toward Carter. “I won’t tell the FBI, I swear. I just…”
Carter started tapping on Kimberly’s phone. “I’ll save it into the contacts under ‘Clive.’ There, okay?”
“Thanks,” Malik said, taking the phone. “You might want to get a move on. I’ve already called the FBI.”
Kimberly swayed. “You what?”
“I’m sorry, Kimmy,” Malik said, catching her. “I just… I’m trying to protect you, and Alice. But Alice, you need to stay.”
Kimberly patted Malik’s chest. “She absolutely does not.”
“You need to stop pretending that everything’s fine,” Malik said quietly.
“Everything is fine. What I’m going through is a completely natural process. If anything, I like that the attention isn’t focused on me for a change.”
Alice cleared her throat. “Guys, please don’t argue over me. Not now.”
Malik met her gaze. “Then stay.”
“No,” Kimberly said. “Go.”
Carter made a move for the door. “Ah, Alice? I can’t wait any longer.” He held out his hand.
“She’s going,” Kimberly said.
“She’s staying,” Malik countered. “He’s got the flash drive. He doesn’t need her any longer.”
“Ah, but maybe he does—and maybe she does.”
Malik touched Kimberly’s cheek. “Babe, what are you talking about?”
“Alice?” Carter said.
Alice took his hand. “I’m coming.”
“Look after each other!” Kimberly called, as Alice and Carter made for the backyard.
“You too!” Alice yelled back.