The cool, spring sun was shining down on his face.
He took a stumbling step back, looking around wildly.
Cemetery. They were in a cemetery.
“Sorry about that,” Mei said, appearing beside him. “Still getting the hang of it.” She frowned. “I’m sort of new at this.”
“What’s happening!” he shrieked at her.
“You’re getting buried,” she said cheerily. “Come on. You’ll want to see this. It’ll help dispel any doubts you might have left.” She grabbed him by the arm and pulled. He tripped over his own feet but managed to stay upright. His flip-flops slapped against his heels as he struggled to keep up. They weaved in and out of headstones, the sounds of busy traffic surrounding them as impatient cabbies honked their horns and shouted expletives out open windows. He tried to pull away from Mei, but her grip was tight. She was stronger than she looked.
“Here we are,” she said, coming to a stop. “Right on time.”
He peered over her shoulder. Naomi was there, as were the partners, all standing around a freshly dug rectangular hole. The expensive coffin was being lowered into the earth. No one was crying. Worthington kept looking at his watch and sighing dramatically. Naomi was tapping away on her phone.
Of all the things for Wallace to focus on, he was dumbstruck by the fact that there was no headstone. “Where’s the marker? My name. Date of birth. An inspirational message saying I lived life to the fullest.”
“Is that what you did?” Mei asked. She didn’t sound like she was mocking him, merely curious.
He jerked his hand away and crossed his arms defensively. “Yes.”
“Awesome. And the headstones usually come after the service. They still have to carve it and everything. It’s this whole process. Don’t worry about it. Look. There you go. Wave goodbye!”
He didn’t wave.
Mei did, though, fingers wiggling.
“How did we get here?” he asked. “We were just in the church.”
“So observant. That’s really good, Wallace. We were just in the church. I’m proud of you. Let’s say I skipped a couple of things. Gotta get a move on.” She winced. “And that’s my bad, man. Like, seriously, don’t take this the wrong way because I totally didn’t mean it, but I was a little late in getting to you. This is sort of my first time reaping on my own, and I screwed up. Went to the wrong place on accident.” She smiled beatifically. “We cool?”
“No,” he snarled at her. “We’re not cool.”
“Oh. That sucks. Sorry. I promise it won’t happen again. Learning experience and all that. I hope you’ll still rate my service a ten when you get the survey. It’d mean a lot to me.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. He could almost convince himself that she was the crazy one, and nothing but a figment of his imagination. “It’s been three days!”
She beamed at him. “Exactly! This makes my job so much easier. Hugo’s gonna be so pleased with me. I can’t wait to tell him.”
“Who the hell is—”
“Hold on. This is one of my favorite parts.”
He looked to where she was pointing. The partners stood in a line, with Naomi behind them. He watched as they all leaned down, one by one, scooping up a handful of dirt and dropping it into the grave. The sound of the dirt hitting the lid of the casket caused Wallace’s hands to shake. Naomi stood with her handful of dirt over the open grave, and before she dropped it, a strange expression flickered across her face, there and gone. She shook her head, dropped the dirt, and then whirled around. The last he saw of his ex-wife was the sunlight on her hair as she hurried toward a waiting cab.
“Kinda brings it all home,” Mei said. “Full circle. From the earth we came, and to the earth we return. Pretty, if you think about it.”
“What’s going on?” he whispered.
Mei touched the back of his hand. Her skin was cool, but not unpleasantly so. “Do you need a hug? I can give you a hug if you want.”
He jerked his arm back. “I don’t want a hug.”
She nodded. “Boundaries. Cool. I respect that. I promise I won’t hug you without your permission.”
Once, when Wallace was seven, his parents had taken him to the beach. He’d stood in the surf, watching the sand rush between his toes. There was a strange sensation that rose through his legs to the pit of his stomach. He was sinking, though the combination of the whirling sand and white-capped water made it feel like so much more. It’d terrified him, and he’d refused to go back in the ocean, no matter how much his parents had pleaded with him.
It was this sensation Wallace Price felt now. Maybe it was the sound of the dirt on the casket. Maybe it was the fact that his picture was propped up next to the open grave, a floral wreath attached below it. In this picture, he was smiling tightly. His hair was styled perfectly, parted to the right. His eyes were bright. Naomi once said that he reminded her of the scarecrow from Oz. “If you only had a brain,” she said. This had been during one of their divorce proceedings, so he’d discounted it as nothing but her trying to hurt him.
He sat down hard on the ground, his toes flexing into the grass over the tip of his flip-flops. Mei settled next to him, folding her legs underneath her, picking at a little dandelion. She plucked it from the ground, holding it close to his mouth. “Make a wish,” she said.
He did not make a wish.
She sighed and blew on the dandelion seeds herself. They exploded into a white cloud, the bits catching on a breeze and swirling around the open grave. “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”
“Do you?” he muttered, face in his hands.
“Not literally,” she admitted. “But I have a good idea.”
He looked over at her, eyes narrowed. “You said this was your first time.”
“It is. Solo, that is. But I went through the training, and did pretty good. Do you need empathy? I can give you that. Do you want to punch something because you’re angry? I can help you with that too. Not me, though. Maybe a wall.” She shrugged. “Or we can sit here and watch as they eventually come with a small bulldozer and shovel all the dirt on top of your former body thus cementing the fact that it’s all over. Dealer’s choice.”
He stared at her.
She nodded. “Right. I could have phrased that better. Sorry. Still getting the hang of things.”
“What is…？” He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. “What’s happening?”
She said, “What’s happening is that you lived your life. You did what you did, and now it’s over. At least that part of it is. And when you’re ready to leave here, I’ll take you to Hugo. He’ll explain the rest.”
“Leave,” he muttered. “With Hugo.”
She shook her head before stopping herself. “Well, in a way. He’s a ferryman.”
“A what?”
“Ferryman,” she repeated. “The one who will help you cross.”
His mind was racing. He couldn’t focus on any one single thing. It all felt too grand to comprehend. “But I thought you were supposed to—”