I Woke Up Dead at the Mall Read online

  All the pain surrounding you

  It worked. His eyes were closed, but he whispered, “Sarah.”

  “Yes, Dad, yes! It’s me! Sarah! I’m right here!” There was no word in the English language to describe the combination of joy, fear, and sheer determination that was bursting my heart with atomic power. I was doing exactly what I was meant to do.

  “Dad! Get out of here! Right now! Karen is dangerous. She’s killing you, and you have to get away from her.”

  “Sarah,” he whispered again.

  Karen emerged from the kitchen holding a large plastic container labeled SELENIUM and a spoon. “Did you say something?” she asked.

  “Sarah,” he repeated. His breathing was fast, and his face twisted in pain.

  Karen smiled and bounced her eyebrows, like this was a good sign. The kettle whistled, summoning her back to her terrible task.

  “You’re scaring him,” Alice advised. “Sing again.”

  There was no time to argue or debate. I dropped the song I wrote at the mall and just sang the words that I needed to say to him.

  Dad, get out of here

  Don’t let Karen near

  She will kill you, if she can

  He blinked his eyes open but didn’t look at me or Alice.

  “She will kill me if she can,” he mumbled. He sat up a bit and spoke more clearly. “Get out of here. Get out of here.”

  “Yes, Dad. Now. Run! Just go! Please!” I cried, trying and failing to pull him out of this place.

  “Come on, Dad. Go. Now!” I shouted. “Karen’s going to kill you!”

  He pulled himself up from the sofa. Good. Keep going. He took a few steps toward the door, but Karen came in. “What are you trying to say, Charlie? I wish you would just speak up!”

  “I’m…I’m tired, and I…” He spoke slowly. She was turning one hand in a circle, as if to say Hurry up. She gave up on having him finish the sentence.

  “Go upstairs, then. Go. The tea is giving me trouble, but I’ve got some broth. That should do the job.”

  Karen stood and watched Dad. He looked to the front door, then to the stairs.

  “Well? Go, go, go!” Karen commanded him.

  I shouted “No!” over her, but she won. Dad nodded obediently and went to the stairs.

  “Please! Get out of here!” I pleaded with him.

  “Did you say something?” she asked, more than a little bit annoyed. It was obviously an effort for Dad to climb the stairs. She let out a groan and muttered under her breath, “Oh, you try my patience, old man, you really do.” But then she raised her voice and said, “Doctor’s orders: go to bed!”

  She spun on her heels and went back to the kitchen.

  “Alice, Sarah, Lacey, Nick. It’s time.” Bertha’s voice boomed through me.

  “Sarah?” Alice’s voice was tiny and terrified. “We must go! Please! I don’t want to get stuck here.

  “You go.” I spoke to Alice but kept my focus on Dad. He was standing perfectly still on the stairs. I couldn’t tell if he was going to keep climbing, fall to the floor in a final heart attack, or turn and make his escape. I wasn’t going to leave until I knew.

  “Hurry!” Alice said as she disappeared through the door.

  “Tell Bertha I’ll be right there. Don’t worry.” Please note that I didn’t promise. I couldn’t.

  “Come on, Dad.” I started singing to him again. “Dad, get out of here! Don’t let Karen near!”

  That did it. He turned away from the stairs and, pretty quickly for a sick guy, moved to the door. He even checked to see if Karen saw him. She didn’t.

  He was out the door. And he knew that he had to escape her.

  I. Saved. Dad.

  “Get out here right now!” Bertha sounded furious.

  I didn’t have time to ride the elevator with him. He was sweating now and breathing kind of fast as he pushed the button again, again, again.

  “It’s going to be okay now,” I promised him (and me).

  chapter thirty-one

  it’s not going to be okay now

  “Come to the park. Now!”

  Bertha’s voice pierced the din of the streets. I rushed and floated down to the ground, where Alice was waiting for me on the sidewalk. She tugged at my arm. “Hurry!”

  We were ballet-leaping across the street to Bertha and her elevator. It seemed to tear a hole in the world. The dead noticed it and stopped to stare. Bertha looked out at the world like she was the latest cranky meme on the Internet. Lacey was leaning against the elevator door, and I think she was actually holding it open for us. Squinting through the sunlight, she seemed genuinely happy to see us.

  “Orlando Bloom,” she said, to explain her smile. “I saw him. Not naked, but he had his shirt off. That works for me.”

  Across the street, Dad was getting Eduardo to hail a taxi for him. Excellent. Go, go, go.

  “Look!” I pointed him out. “I did it.”

  “Excellent,” Lacey said. After a moment she added, “Where’s Nick?”

  Just hearing his name felt like a stab of fear. We all knew where he was: back home, looking after his mother, trying to make things better for her, insisting on making things right. As if he could.

  “He’ll be here,” I said to Lacey, to Alice, to myself, to Bertha. “Nick’s on his way.” I tried to force a breezy tone into my voice and I thought I failed.

  Bertha sighed, looking around the park, as if she were observing a den of sin. She didn’t want too much of it imprinted on her eyes.

  “Sarah. You know that I can’t wait for him,” Bertha said grimly.

  “He’s on his way!” I said, still failing at that casual, confident tone. “Besides, what’s the rush? We’re dead. It’s not like we’re late for something.”

  “Don’t you understand?” she asked. “If we don’t leave within the minute, we’ll be stuck here. All of us.”

  I scanned the park for any sign of Nick. The beautiful day had brought in another boisterous crowd. He might be in there. Somewhere. (Hurry, Nick, please!)

  “That means he has a whole minute to get here,” I reasoned. “A minute can be a long time, if you think about it.”

  Bertha didn’t look angry at all but terribly, terribly sad. Off to my right, I heard the pip-pip whistle from Eduardo, who had spotted an open taxi. Dad eased himself in and off he went. Safe. Alive. Saved.

  Now all I needed was Nick. Was I asking too much?

  “Everyone. Please step in the elevator now,” she instructed.

  Lacey stepped in. She shrugged at me, looking a bit sheepish. “Look,” she said. “I’m sorry. But did you see those people in the night? I don’t want to be one of them.”

  I nodded. Alice stepped in. She looked at her feet and then at me.

  “I’m so sorry, but I can’t stay here, Sarah. You’ve seen how it is. I must move on.” She seemed overcome with emotion.

  “It’s okay,” I said to her, searching for Nick once more. I saw a shock of brown hair in the distance, running right toward us. “He’s right over there. Just wait. Just wait for him. Please!”

  “Get in the elevator, Sarah,” Alice commanded me. The guy with brown hair came closer. It wasn’t Nick. It was someone who was alive.

  “You can’t be this stupid! And he isn’t that cute!” Lacey shouted. “Get in here!”

  “Wait!” I begged. “I can’t.” The words nearly stuck in my throat. “I can’t leave him here all alone. Please. One more minute!” I stayed outside the elevator, paralyzed with fear.

  The doors were closing oh so slowly, and as they did they were erasing the three stricken faces that looked out at me. Plain sky and park were gradually overtaking my view of them. I edged closer, getting ready to jump in next to them.

  “Sarah! I’m right here!” Nick shouted from across the park. And suddenly the world was a good place. Nick was here. I snapped around to see him zooming toward me. Yes.

  “See?” I said.

  But I was speaking to no
one. The doors were closed, replaced by an empty patch of air.

  Nick caught up to me. And here we were. Now and forever.

  chapter thirty-two

  click your heels three times. try again. try again. try again.

  Nick was a little out of breath when he reached me. He squinted against the sunlight, which may have explained why he didn’t notice that I was equal parts furious and terrified.

  “How long till they come back for us?” Nick asked, gulping for air.

  “Yeah, see, that’s the thing. They’re not,” I replied.

  He laughed and shook his head. “Oh, come on. They won’t just leave us here. Stranded. What are we supposed to do?”

  “Haunt. Walk around. Get used to being a ghost.” That was all I could say. For the moment. We walked around the perimeter of the park, just like the Great Gatsby couple I had seen last night.

  “Where were you?” I asked, trying like mad to dial down any accusing tone in my voice, just in case we were creating the dialogue we’d be stuck with for all eternity. “Why didn’t you get back here on time?”

  “My mom was in bad shape,” he explained. “I couldn’t just leave her.”

  “Yeah. I get that. But now we’re stuck here.” The accusing tone in my voice morphed into the sound of fear and grief. (That’s what the truth sounded like.)

  “Sarah, don’t worry so much. They’ll be back for us. You’ll see. Bertha’s just trying to teach us a lesson.”

  (We were stuck. We were stuck. We were stuck.)

  (We walked. We walked. We walked.)

  (All day. All day. All day.)

  Technically it was all just as blindingly beautiful as it had been yesterday. The crazy pastels of dusk were starting to give way to the metallic shades of early evening. And right now I saw it as my pretty, pretty prison.

  “So.” Nick spoke with a perky optimism that was hard for me to believe in. “Starting now I think we should stay together. We can look out for each other. Things go wrong when we separate.”

  I only half-listened to him. We had been walking, walking, walking. Was this going to be our crazy thing as we haunted Manhattan? What was to become of us?

  “Where do you think your dad went?”

  “No idea. But he heard me. I know that for sure. He knows the truth about Karen. That’s pretty good,” I reasoned.

  “Pretty good? That’s excellent! He’s safe! You saved him. See? I told you things would work out.” He hugged me as we walked.

  “Um, hang on,” I said. “He’s still sick, and it isn’t like she’s in jail or anything. As long as she’s free, he’s in danger. I don’t even know where he went.”

  “Well, that’s what’s so good about us still being here. You can find him and see what your stepmother is up to. And I can see if my mom is making some progress. This’ll be good. You’ll see.”

  I stopped walking, which stopped Nick. I looked him in the eye and he smiled the crazy crooked seductive grin that I loved so much.

  “Are you smiling?” I asked. “Seriously? For real? Are you actually happy? Because, if you are, that might mean that you’re insane.”

  Nick grinned more broadly and may even have laughed a little bit. At me. In this situation. (Bad timing for laughs or smiles.)

  “You worry too much, Sarah.”

  “You don’t worry enough, Nick.”

  “We’ll be fine.” He sounded unreasonably confident. “Look at it this way: we’re getting more time here to see everything through. How is that bad?”

  It was dark enough now.

  I pointed to the figures in blue glow all around us. They walked, laughed, cried, and fluttered from place to place. The Great Gatsby couple came by.

  He: Yes, it was.

  She: It wasn’t my fault.

  He: Yes, it was.

  “What the hell?” Nick whispered. “Who are they?”

  “Those are all people who got stuck here,” I explained. “They all seem a little bit crazy. Or a lot bit crazy. And that’s going to be us. Someday.” My face was such a tangle of worry it nearly hurt.

  For once, Nick’s unshakeable confidence shook. Just a tremor. I studied him as if my life depended on it because, really, it kind of did. If he lost hope now, we were officially lost for all time. He took his damn time, surveying the luminous creatures roaming the park and beyond.

  “No. That won’t be us,” he concluded. “We’ll be fine.”

  It was such a definitive statement, I felt my forehead ease up. Just a little. I needed to hear those words the way that living people need to breathe. He knew that somehow.

  Nick took my hands in his. “Sarah, I know you. I see you, and I know who you are. You worry too much, but you look out for other people. You have a wicked sense of humor that makes me always want to be next to you and hear what you have to say. You’re strong and you’re crazy smart. You have music in everything you do,” he said, moving closer. “And you have a great heart.”

  We kissed, and I felt the tangle of worry come loose and fall away. (Was this his true superpower?)

  “You could have left without me. Why are you still here?” he asked.

  “I couldn’t. I don’t want to be there without you,” I said. It was so true it hurt my eyes to say it out loud.

  Nick held me close. “I want to be with you. Always.” But I had to pull away and look him in the eye.

  “Where the hell were you, then? Why didn’t you get there when Bertha called? Tell me what happened.” I needed to know. Needed.

  WHERE NICK WAS

  Nick’s mom was sleeping it off, which took a while. But then she awoke, at last, and made coffee. She sat in all that mess and drank it. Nick tried to speak to her:

  “Mom. You’ve got to get it together. Live the life you have.” And then: “Mom. Clean yourself up. Take a shower and put on clean clothes.

  For the twelfth time: “Mom. Brush your teeth.”

  She heard none of it. She sipped her coffee and browsed Facebook. They were cloaked in silence for such a long time. Nick knew what he was waiting for: a glimmer of hope. A sign of life. And better hygiene.

  When she finished the pot of coffee, she looked around the apartment and seemed to notice for the first time that it was kind of a wreck. It surprised her, but not enough to fix it. Ah well. She sat on the sofa and stared at the ceiling for a long time.

  She took a deep breath and focused intently on that ceiling. “Nicky. I thought I saw you last night. I’d sell my soul if I could see you or hear you—”

  “Alice, Sarah, Lacey, Nick. It’s time.” Bertha’s voice boomed through Nick.

  “I’d hug you every single day. I’d forget about all the stupid stuff that distracted me while you were alive.”

  She looked down at the floor.

  “Go on,” Nick urged her. “I’m listening.”

  She turned her gaze to the ceiling once more, as if Nick were up there somewhere.

  “See, here’s the thing.” Her voice was singed with tears. It was hard for her to speak, to breathe, to do anything other than cry. But she had something to say.

  “Get out here right now!” Bertha sounded furious.

  “I worked out a plan to kill myself. Just after your funeral, I figured out how to do it. I was such a wreck, a bunch of doctors gave me a boatload of pills to calm me down. If I took enough of them, I could calm myself all the way down, you know? But I didn’t. Not yet, anyway.” She lowered her head and laughed at herself a little. “Obviously,” she added.

  “Don’t do it, Mom,” Nick whispered. “I know you can’t hear me. But please tell me you won’t do it.”

  “Come to the park. Now!”

  Mom sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

  “But last night, I realized: a part of you will always be alive, as long as I’m alive.” She was whispering now. “I can’t kill that off. So. I guess I’ll have to keep living.”

  Nick tried to hug her as she buried her face in her hands.

  �
��And now I’m a crazy lady, talking to dead people. Great.”

  He smiled. “Keep talking. Keep living. You can do this, Mom.”

  From a distance, you might think Nick and I were just one person. With a blue glow. We wrapped our arms around each other and breathed in unison.

  “I don’t want to be here in the park all night,” I said at last.

  “It’s kind of beautiful here,” Nick replied. “But if you want a home, then we’ll make a home. Together.”

  Neither of us spoke for a long while, basking in the luminous diamond that was us. Nick moved us gently, slowly, out of the park to the building where he lived when he still lived. Honestly, he could have promised me that we’d spend the night on the moon and I would have followed him there.

  chapter thirty-three

  life is wasted on the living

  Nick led us to his apartment building on Greene Street and through the door of a vacant apartment. Even though nobody lived there, it was furnished like a page out of an IKEA catalogue. Everything matched everything else’s rectangular shape and was kelly green or navy blue. It looked so cozy and fake.

  “It’s for visiting professors at NYU,” Nick explained. “It’s usually empty all summer.”

  “Well. We’re not visiting all summer. Right?” I asked Nick, as if he would absolutely know.

  “Of course not!” Nick spoke with absolute confidence. “Hey. This is sort of random, but I’m not hungry. Are you?” Nick asked. Smooth subject change.

  “No. When’s the last time we ate?” I wondered aloud. “And hey, are we even able to eat? I mean, can we eat the food that’s here? Are we going to starve? Is that even possible, since we’re already dead? Why didn’t Bertha talk to us about food here?”

  “We’re dead. We can’t starve. But this is so annoying: I finally have a kitchen and I can’t cook,” Nick complained. “I so want to cook for us.”

  This funny feeling settled over me. Like we were kids playing house in some model apartment. Look! Here’s our modular furniture. Look! Here’s our bland, generic book collection. Look! Here’s our barely used cookware. And look! Here’s us.