It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,49

to people when they arrive. “When I was in med school, I studied in a place like this,” she says, waving her arm around the room. “The whole time I was plowing through my reading, all I could think was how awesome it must be to work as a barista. The people who worked at the café always seemed like they were part of a family. Of course, when I mentioned the idea to my dad, he went ballistic. I was expected to follow in the family business. And that’s what I did.”

“What do you think he would say now?”

Her eyes flit upward for a second, the smile still beaming. “He’s one of my best customers.” She laughs all the way back to the counter.

“She’s young,” I notice. “Wonder how far along she was when she died?”

“Forty-five, I think. It was a heart attack brought on by stress,” Madeline answers casually.

I almost spit out my drink. “She does not look like she’s in her forties,” I blurt out before slapping my hand over my mouth.

But Madeline doesn’t seem to notice. “We decide what age we present and under what conditions.”

“Like your hair?” I ask. “When did it ever look like that?”

She reaches up to smooth the perfectly straight strands. “When I got my first wig,” she answers. “You helped me pick it out.”

I know it’s taking a long time for all the new memories to integrate with my consciousness or whatever, but I’m pretty sure helping a girl with cancer pick out a wig would deserve instant recall. It doesn’t and I’m drawing a blank. “Um, I don’t remember doing that.”

“You will,” she says before taking a sip of her coffee. “This is the first time anyone has ever gone back to repeat their past. Even Death Himself isn’t sure how long it will take him to make all the arrangements for your return. In the meantime, he asked me to entertain you until your memories catch up with you. He said something about you needing a solid understanding of your new reality before starting the last test. But who knows with Death Himself. The guy marches to a different symphony.”

“So my first babysitter is Saint Peter and my second is Madeline Quinn,” I say under my breath.

“It’s not babysitting when we’re friends,” she says, looking a little hurt.

Here’s my chance to get some clarification. “You mentioned that we were friends, but I still don’t know what you’re talking about. I remember that we threw the benefit auction and all, but that doesn’t make us besties or anything. Besides, I …” I take a deep breath before adding, “I stole all that money we raised for your family and threw a party.”

Why couldn’t that memory disappear?

Madeline leans forward, her voice soft and low. “Listen to me. You aren’t the person you used to be. You made some mistakes, but you fixed most of them. And you paid a pretty high price, don’t you think?”

Her words trigger a few of the new memories. I close my eyes, grasping at all the details I can. “I’m still hanging out with Felicity?” I ask in surprise. Her face tells me it’s true.

She nods solemnly. “You tried to break away, but then, all of a sudden, you were hanging out with her again. When we asked you about it, you wouldn’t explain why. We still hung out, but it was like having a secret friend.”

That doesn’t sound like me. Or it didn’t. The humming erupts in my head as I try to dig through the jumble of memories. “I can’t remember why, either. But I know I don’t like her.”

She shrugs. “We thought she was blackmailing you but could never figure out what could be so bad that you would run back to her.”

That reason leaps to mind without any urging. “My mom,” I start. “My mom was having an affair. Felicity said if I didn’t start hanging out with them again she’d tell everyone, starting with my dad.”

“But she couldn’t stand you,” Madeline says. “Why would she want you back in her circle?”

“To do her dirty work while she kept her hands clean.” The veil is lifting and whatever’s been keeping me from recalling these memories finally breaks. Everything comes flooding back in waves. Every memory. Vacations I took. New friendships that started after choosing Trevor—I mean Daniel—over Felicity. It’s an entirely new life.

I sit my cup down as the room begins to spin. I would gladly take the buzzing in my head