“We won’t,” Edgar says.
“I think I like carnivals,” Greg says. He squints like he’s trying to remember.
“You do,” I say. “You took me to one once. We ate elephant ears and cotton candy. I thought I was going to puke.”
I hovered over a big garbage can, full of beer cups and neon-orange nacho cheese. Greg didn’t leave my side even though I wanted him to. I didn’t want him to see me vomit into a trash can. My nausea eventually passed, but the smell of beer made me feel queasy for months afterward.
His voice distorts in disgust. “We ate elephant ears? That’s terrible. What kind of person was I?” It’s like he’s been lobotomized.
“Not actual ears of elephants. It’s like fried dough with powdered sugar. They’re disgusting and good at the same time.” I take in the details of Greg’s face. This is the last time I’ll ever see him. He’s already not Greg, and next he’ll either be someone else entirely or gone forever.
“Edgar, if he has to go is it possible that he’ll come back like you and Tony?” I ask.
“No. I’m sorry. That rarely happens. This time was strictly because of Doris.” His mouth turns up on the sides a little and he says, “In fact, if she doesn’t come back, Tony and I have to return. She fucked us all.”
The sky turns gray so quickly I wonder if it was ever blue at all. The slight breeze is now a bone-chilling wind. I put one hand on Edgar’s leg and one on Greg’s. I don’t know which one I’m about to lose. Maybe both. Or maybe it wants me.
“Does it hurt as much as it seems like it does?” I ask Edgar.
He nods solemnly in response.
The Shadow comes up from the base of the Ferris wheel. We all see it at the same time. Both of their faces register terror. I’m sure mine does, too.
The wheel stops moving. My instinct is to try to climb away. But where can I go?
The air goes still like right before a tornado hits. The Shadow is face-to-face with us, glaring. I can feel the oppressive hate from its gaze. It takes Greg into its fanged-mouth. Our seat rocks back and forth from the wind created by the Shadow’s sudden movement. Greg starts to scream but he’s gone before the sound hits our ears. Only his feet are visible. The Shadow’s head goes backward and he slurps Greg down his throat. There’s nothing left of him. I want to scream, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. Even though the Shadow already knows I’m here.
It turns back to us and the horrifying stillness returns. It appears to be smiling, or maybe leering. Maybe those are the same thing to the Shadow.
And then we’re gone. Both of us. We’re back in the boardroom. Instead of Oblivion, the gloriously boring boardroom.
The fear gives way to relief. We both start laughing with everything we have. Then, at the same time, we remember that Greg is gone. Forever.
Ernesto, Tony, and Doris are here. They are taking their seats and we follow suit.
“Greg’s gone,” I say. I grieved for him so long after he committed suicide that I don’t have much grief left for him. It’s just enough to give me pause, to carve out a new hollow spot in my being. But I don’t feel gutted this time.
“I’m sorry,” Ernesto says. “We tried to get her back in time.”
Doris looks down to the table and says nothing.
“This is your fault, Doris,” I say.
She looks up and says, “He wouldn’t have made it anyway. He was damaged to his core.”
“It’s not up to us to make that decision,” Edgar says, and I’m thankful.
“Where’s Luke?” His absence is suddenly a heavy presence. I’ll never see him again, either. Everything is fleeting.
Tony smiles and says, “He stayed behind. He’s going to be a dad. It’s what he wanted.”
“What comes next?” I ask. So much has happened and it’s still not over.
A heavy silence falls across the room. I wonder how long it goes on. I wish I could know.
“I want to see Jennifer,” Doris says.
“Who?” I ask.
“My niece. She’s here. That’s how they got me to come back.” Her face reveals a sadness I’ve never seen in her before.
For a second I almost feel sorry for Doris. She is vulnerable. She is human, or at least she was at one time. But then I think of Greg, and wish nothing but the worst for her.
A woman appears in the room. She looks terrified and confused, just like everyone does when they’re new here. Her eyes scan the room and land on Doris. She stares at her and asks, “Are you my Aunt Doris?”
Doris stands and says, “You’re so grown up.” She wraps her arms around Jennifer, and I know that the hug doesn’t feel the way they want it to.
There’s a slight resemblance between the two. Jennifer is tall and slender like Doris, but she has a softness that Doris either never had or lost somewhere along the way.
“My sweet girl,” Doris says. “Why did you do this?”
Jennifer pulls away and says, “Why did you?”
“Touché.” Doris smiles slyly.
Jennifer’s eyes dart around the room. “What is this?”
“This, my dear, is my reckoning. I’ve done some things I have to answer for. But first I wanted to see you.” A smile of resignation crosses Doris’ face. “How’s your grief watch going?”
“It’s awful. My son is so broken-hearted.” Jennifer looks down.
“I know. He’ll be okay, though,” Doris says. “Kids are resilient.”
I almost don’t recognize the gentle pull because I’m so entranced by this new, nurturing Doris.
Now I’m in a large kitchen with marble countertops and a ceramic tile floor. Louisa is here.
“Where have you been?” she asks.
“In Juniper Haskell’s body.”
“The televangelist from a long time ago?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Saggy tits?” she asks.
“The saggiest.”
“Huh. Weird.” She turns her attention to a gray-haired woman who is stir-frying vegetables in a pan.
“If you want to stay with me, you can. You can be a mentor. It’s your choice.”
Louisa smiles and says, “Yeah. I’d like that.” And it feels good to know that I won’t be alone, and neither will she.
“Who’s that?” I ask.
“My nana. My mom’s mom.”
“This house is amazing.”
“I know. I wanted to live here but my mom wouldn’t let me,” she says. “Everything would have been different for me here. I think so, anyway. No way to know for sure.”
“Have you done anything to help her cry yet?”
“Nah. I’ve enjoyed being here too much. She’s so pretty, isn’t she?” Louisa stares at the woman. There’s nothing but love in her eyes. “She was a model when she was young. She wanted to move to LA to become an actress, but she met my grandpa and abandoned her dreams.”
“Did she regret it?”
“I think so. But she wouldn’t admit it.”
Louisa’s grandmother takes chicken from the refrigerator. It’s already chopped up into bite-sized pieces. I wonder if Louisa was here to watch her do the prep-work. She adds it to the pan and continues stirring.
“I used to hate all of the healthy cooking. All my friends had grandmas who made cookies and pot pies. My nana made salads, stir fries, and the occasional sorbet. But she knew I was living off junk food at home. She wanted to save me.” Her eyes remain trained on her grandmother. “She’ll cry soon. I’m the reason she cuts the chicken so small.”
As if the woman heard Louisa, a single dignified tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it with the back of her hand and continues to stir.
“That’s probably it,” Louisa says. “She’s not one for showing emotion.”
The pull starts and we’re back in the boardroom. Jennifer is gone.
A man stands behind the podium in the front of the room. He’s wearing grand, colorful robes and one of those white English wigs that barristers wear. He has a gavel in his hand.