Limbo—Not Just Another Dance

LIMBO—NOT JUST ANOTHER DANCE

Pamela inhaled loudly, and opened her eyes. Confusion crowded her face. She looked around not knowing where she was. Confusion turned to panic. 

What was going on?

“It’s about time!”

Pamela swung her head to the left where Fiona, her son-in-law’s mother, sat. She groaned. She was not a fan.

Pamela was still discombobulated and disoriented. And now a little pissed. Why was Fiona sitting beside her, and where were they? This was not good. Fiona was the reason Pamela drank. To excess.

Pamela swallowed her anger. “Fiona, you’re here,” she said looking at her. “Where is ‘here’?”

Fiona shrugged her shoulders. “How should I know? I only woke up a couple of minutes ago.”

The two women were sitting in what looked like a doctor’s office, replete with the out-of-date magazines, and crappy art hung on the walls. They were the only two people in the room. 

“Well, how’d we get here?” asked Pamela.

“Again,” said Fiona scowling at Pamela. “How the hell should I know? Do I look like a tour guide? I’m as confused as you are.” She glanced at Pamela. “Well, maybe not that confused.” 

Pamela said nothing, just growled quietly. Now was not the time to lose control. She could do that later.

Fiona spotted a frosted sliding glass receptionist window at the front of the room. She got up and walked to it, rapping soundly on the glass.

The window slid open, revealing a middle-aged woman behind a desk. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Fiona. “What the hell is this place, and why the hell are we here?”

The woman looked at Fiona, and then down at her computer screen, then back up to Fiona. She bent over and looked at Pamela through the opening. Straightening up so looked back at Fiona. “Someone will be out shortly. They will explain everything.” She raised her hand to slide the window shut, but Fiona put her arm through the opening, preventing it from closing. 

“No, I don’t want ‘shortly,’ I want now,” she said, surprisingly calm.

The woman behind the desk looked at Fiona’s arm, then back up at her face. “Please remove your arm. If you don’t comply I will call security.” The two women were locked on to each other’s gaze, neither blinking.

Fiona dared at the woman. “Go ahead, call security. Maybe they’ll tell me where we are.“

“Please remove your arm,” said the woman, sounding a little bit rattled.

“No,” said Fiona, “I want you to find someone to explain why we’re here. I’m not going anywhere until you do.”

The woman rolled her eyes, and got up from her seat and disappeared down a hall.

Pamela came up behind Fiona. “Why must you always cause a scene?” she said, arms crossed. “Can’t you just be patient and wait like a normal person?” She looked around the empty waiting room. “They obviously know we’re here.”

*****

The first time the women had met was over five years ago. They didn’t hate each other at that time. Or even actively dislike or distrust each other. They were just cautious. Meeting your child’s significant other’s parents was a big deal.

Fiona and Mike’s son Kyle, was dating Pamela and Bruce’s daughter Lia. The two kids had arranged a get-to-know-you dinner at a restaurant downtown. Everyone was on their best behaviour.

Introductions were made, small talk ensued. Everything was going well, until Pamela mentioned that her pasta was over-cooked.

Bruce looked at Pamela’s barely touched dinner. “I’ll get the server,” he said looking around the restaurant, trying to spot the man.

“No. I’m fine. I wasn’t hungry anyways,” said Pamela, smiling weakly.

Fiona raised her hand. “Excuse me?” she said catching the eye of their server, who came right over to the table.

“Is something the matter?” their server asked.

“Yes,” said Fiona. “My friend’s pasta is over-cooked and inedible. Could she have another order please?” She looked at Pamela. “Or would you like to order something else? Our treat.” She smiled indulgently.

Pamela was mortified. “No, I’m fine. I’ll eat this.” She stuck her fork into pasta and made a move to eat the now cold, over-cooked penne.

Fiona leaned over, and grabbed Pamela’s plate from the table, handing it to the server. “No, I insist.”

The server scurried off to replace the meal.

“Why did you do that?” Pamela asked. “I said I was fine.”

“Truthfully?” asked Pamela. “You were sitting there, looking like someone just ran over your puppy. I didn’t want your over-cooked meal to ruin the dinner.” She shrugged. “Take the new dinner, and move on.”

*****

“They obviously know we’re here,” said Pamela, looking around.

It was Fiona’s turn to roll her eyes. “Yeah, and by that logic we’d be sitting in this stupid room until who-knows-when. This way, I’m in control of the situation. And I decided we need to talk to someone right now.”

“You’re so pushy. And you always need to be in control,” said Pamela. “”You decided.’ I was perfectly fine waiting until they were ready for us. Whomever ‘they’ are.”

Fiona looked at Pamela, squinting her eyes. “If you don’t want to find out what the hell’s going on, then go sit down again, like a goody-two-shoes, and I’ll talk to whomever comes out.” She shrugged. “I’m sure someone will eventually come out to talk to you. Just don’t go bitchin’ to me if it takes forever.” She turned back to the open window, and leaned in trying to see down the hall. “Where is that woman?” she asked to no one in particular. “Hey! Can anyone hear me?” she yelled. She paused There was no reply, so she yelled again. “I want to talk to someone, now!”

“My God, Fiona, you’re like a toddler,” said Pamela, shaking her head. “Have you never learned patience?”

“Yeah, well, at least I get things done.” She got up on her toes and tried to lean into the office.

“Grow up, Fiona! Adults do not behave like this. You’re worse than a child!”

“Shut up, Pammy.” She said. “Like I said, if you don’t want to know what’s going on, go sit down, and let me continue to act like a child.” She looked at Pamela. “A child who gets things done.”

Pamela clenched her teeth looking at Fiona. She took a breath before speaking. “For the umpteenth time, my name is Pamela, but I will answer to Pam. What I will not answer to is Pammy. It’s childish. And it is not my name.”

Fiona chuckled. “Okay, Pammy, anything you say.”

Pamela turned on her heels, stomped back to where they had been sitting, and threw herself into the chair, arms crossed, toe tapping. She was angry at Fiona, as usual. That woman would be the death of her, yet. But she was also more than a little scared. She couldn’t imagine what was going on. She needed to find out was was happening. And Fiona was going to make that happen. She stomped back up to the window, and elbowing Fiona out of the way, she stuck her head through the opening. “Get out here, right now!’ she yelled.

*****

“We’re getting married!” gushed Lia, Pamela and Bruce’s daughter. She held out her left hand, showing off her ring.

Her parents hugged her. Mike shook Kyle’s hand, and Pamela went in for the hug. Everyone was excited and happy. Questions about when and where were asked. Pamela asked what she considered the most important question, “Have you told your parents yet? Do they know?”

Kyle shook his head. “No. Lia wanted you to be the first to know.”

Pamela smiled.

After the couple had left to go to Fiona and Mike’s house, Pamela hopped on her Facebook account, and blasted the information that her baby girl was getting married. She may have “accidentally” included Fiona’s contact information in the info blast, ensuring she received the news before the kids had a chance to tell her, ruining Fiona's surprise.

*****

“Get out here, right now!” Pamela yelled into the emptiness.

Both women hung in the window, listening.

“This is ridiculous!” said Fiona. She pulled her head out of the window, and marched over to the door to the left of the sliding glass window. She turned the knob. The door was unlocked. She threw it open, and started down the hall. Pamela ran to keep up.

“Where do you ladies think you’re going?”

Both women stopped, and turned. They were looking at a man standing with his hands on his hips. It looked as if he’d stepped out of one of the doors they had just passed.

“We want to know what is going on here!” said Fiona, “Now.”

“We do not appreciate being left sitting in an empty room, waiting without knowing why we’re here,” said Pamela, raising her chin, trying to look dignified. 

“Fiona Davies and Pamela Wright, I presume.”

Fiona narrowed her eyes. “How do you know who we are?”

The man stared back at Fiona. “Because I know everyone who’s in my waiting room.” He opened the door wider. “In here, please.”

Pamela and Fiona followed him into another on-the-cheap room, decorated with an old steel desk, ancient desk chair, and two decrepit visitors’ chairs.

“Have a seat,” he said pointing to the chairs as he moved to his spot behind the desk.  He looked at Pamela and Fiona expectantly.

“Where the hell are we?” demanded Fiona. 

“Limbo,” said the man.

“I’m sorry,” said Pamela.

“You are in Limbo.” He waved his hand around the room. “This is Limbo.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Fiona.

The man took a deep breath and noisily blew it out through his mouth. “You are both dead. You blew yourselves up.”

*****

When Kyle and Lia announced that they were pregnant, and were planning a gender reveal party, each of the mothers had jumped into action, determined to outdo the other. Each mother knew the gender of the baby, but didn’t know the other knew. Fireworks were purchased, elaborate schemes were devised. When it came time for the reveal, both Fiona and Pamela were ready to tell the world about the baby girl, and each wanted to do it her way.

“No way!” said Fiona. “We’re using my reveal.”

“I think not,” said Pamela. “She’s my daughter, and I get to do the reveal.”

“That baby wasn’t an immaculate conception, Pammy—”

“Pamela!”

“Pammy. Kyle was there, too, ya know. Unless you know something I don’t know about the father? Kyle is the father, right?”

That was it for Pamela. She’d had enough. For years Fiona had taunted her, and today she snapped. She charged Fiona.

Three unfortunate things happened in that moment. First, Pamela pushed Fiona into the wall and into the propane tank which was then pushed into the wall, which was punctured by the water spigot, allowing the gas to escape. Second, Pamela was holding one of the lit paper lanterns she was going to use for the reveal—a lantern that would burn for thirty seconds before igniting the paper lantern itself, which would turn pink. And third, Fiona had set up array of fireworks that she was getting ready to ignite.

The women fought. Hair was pulled, nails scratched, slaps sounded. But neither noticed the burning lantern that was too close to the fireworks. And even if it hadn’t been invisible, neither would have noticed the heavier-than-air propane creeping towards lantern and fireworks. They were too busy bashing each other’s brains out.

The explosion was a pink armageddon.

*****

“We’re dead?” asked Pamela, incredulous.

“Yes,” said the man.

Fiona spoke up, “And this is limbo? The in-between place?”

“Yes.”

“And why am I here?” she continued. “I should be in heaven. I’m a good person.”

Pamela snorted. “Really, Fiona? You're the devil incarnate. You should burn in hell for eternity.”

“Shut up, Pammy.”

“IT’S PAMELA!”

“Be quiet, both of you!” said the man behind the desk, slapping hands down. The women stopped bickering and looked at him. “This is why you are in Limbo, and not heaven.” He wagged his hands in their direction. “The animosity you show for each other.”

“But I was bapsized!” said Fiona.

“But you’re still a bitch,” said Pamela. “And bitches don’t go to heaven!”

“I’m gonna kill you!” snarled Fiona.

“Ha!” quipped Pamela, “Too late! I’m all ready dead!”

Fiona threw herself at Pamela. Pamela threw herself at Fiona.

“STOP THIS NONSENSE RIGHT NOW!” roared the man. 

Both women froze.

“I hereby sentence you both to Limbo. You will spend eternity together. You will never be able to leave the other behind.

Both women gasped.