Afterlife

It was there again, at the edge of my senses, always just out of sight. My brother, mister smarty-pants, said that it was nothing more than stress and apophenia with a dash of pareidolia thrown in for good measure.

I had to look it up after he’d left — I couldn’t let him think his big sister wasn’t good with words. Why couldn’t he just say I was seeing patterns that didn’t exist and assigning meaning to them? That’s what an English degree and a job as an assistant librarian gets you, I guess.

It’s not that I’m stupid, I just went a different direction. While my little brother was busy with college, I was throwing off gender norms, getting my hands dirty and working my way up from the bottom to where I am now. By the time I was certified as a Master Mechanic, I’d moved up to the number two position in the garage. Rick, the owner, has said, more than once, that when he retires, I should take over and buy him out.

He gave me a chance to run the whole show. For the first time in more years than I’d known him, he was taking a real vacation. Rick and his wife were taking a month-long vacation in Cabo San Lucas. For the first few days, he’d called every day, until his wife and I ganged up on him to focus on his vacation. I hadn’t heard from him in over a week, but I still emailed the daily statements to him every evening.

Whatever it was, it had started when Rick stopped calling, but I wasn’t all that stressed. Running the garage felt natural. There was nothing I was doing that I hadn’t done a thousand times before.

I was there late, replacing the brakes on the parts truck, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think someone else was there, too. It was like whoever or whatever it was flitted about just outside my field of view like a shy moth. Maybe that’s what it was — a moth or something around one of the lights casting flickering shadows.

I took a break from my work and walked around the entire garage, inspecting every light fixture. No moths in or around any of them. I even continued my search in the office, the warehouse, and the bathrooms. Aside from the dead bugs in the warehouse lights, nothing.

I went back to work on the truck, focused on my task rather than the feeling of eyes on the back of my neck. After I had the truck buttoned up and ready to go I carried the old pads to the recycle cart. To get there I had to pass Rick’s tool chest. As I did, it felt hard to breathe. It felt as though something terrible had happened to him.

The clank of the pads in the recycle cart pulled my attention back to the garage. Rick was fine, I was just stressed. I was certain my little brother had it right. That didn’t stop me from sending him a “Hope your vacation is going great” text message, though.

I waited too long for a reply, then decided I should head home. Like I often did on the drive home, I came up with a set of tasks for the next day. For sure, I’d have Neil and Jose clean the light fixtures in the warehouse and run a broom through it. Hadn’t been done in months, I was sure.

I parked in front of my apartment, and had a moment, just as I shut off the engine, where it felt like there was someone in the passenger seat. There wasn’t, of course, but it still set my heart to pounding. I locked the car, and my phone chimed with the text message sound.

Excited to hear from Rick, I checked. There were no new texts, and no notifications. Maybe I just imagined it. That had to be it.

As I slept, I relived a conversation Rick and I had a few months prior. We’d somehow gotten on the topic of what, if anything, comes after death.

“I don’t think anything happens,” I said. “Just like there was no you before your birth, there’s no you after your death.”

“But what would it be like if there was something after death?” he asked. “Some way to balance out the cosmic scales of the rich and successful bad people and the poor and struggling good people, for instance.”

“Like karma?”

“Yeah,” he said, “or maybe that’s what Purgatory is for.”

“If that’s your take, what about ghosts? Are they the medium people?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re just trying to avoid Purgatory, or they’re waiting for someone or something.” He laughed. “Tell you what, if there’s something after death, I’ll let you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. “You’re talking like you’re dying. What is it? Cancer?”

“No, no,” he said, “nothing like that. I’m old, and you’re still young. Odds are, I’ll die first. And if I do, then I’ll let you know if there’s an afterlife.”

“So, you’ll haunt me?”

Rick rubbed his beard. “Depends. Would you rather be haunted or hunted?” He burst into a cackling laugh. “What a difference an ‘a’ makes!”

I groaned. “You and your dad jokes. At least if you’re haunting me, I’ll know it’s you.”

I woke and realized that I still hadn’t heard from Rick in over a week. I checked my phone again and saw nothing new. I was seriously beginning to worry.

I opened the garage early and checked the phone for messages. There was one from the Sheriff’s department. Intrigued, I listened to the message.

“This is Sheriff’s Deputy Maria Ruiz calling for Ana Navona. Please call me back at your earliest convenience at ….”

I wrote down the number, then called from my cell phone. The call was answered on the first ring.

“Sheriff’s Department, how can I direct your call?” the young-sounding man on the phone asked.

“Deputy Maria Ruiz, please,” I said.

There were a couple clicks on the line. “Ruiz.”

“Yeah, this is Ana Navona. You asked me to call you?”

“Ana, I’m so sorry. We just got word from the Red Cross that Richard and Judith Collins were in a boating accident eight days ago. Mexican authorities have given up the search for them and have declared them dead.”

I stared at the window of the shop, the shock blurring the “Ricks Automotive” sign long before the tears blurred everything. “He’s…he’s dead?”

“I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

“Yeah…I gotta go.”

By the time everyone came in, I’d put up a temporarily closed sign and was sobbing in the middle of bay one in the garage.

We had a quiet day, drinking, talking about Rick and Jude, and doing our best not to bawl. My phone rang several times throughout the day, with no number showing up, and nothing but static on the line.

It was sometime after noon that Neil called cabs for everyone to get home, and my phone rang again.

“Listen, whoever this is, today is not a good day for pranks. Leave me the fuck alone!” I yelled.

I heard the static again and waited for any response when I heard his voice, sounding distant. It sounded like Rick, but I knew it couldn’t be, until the voice got louder. “Ana Navona, we’ve been trying to reach you about your karma’s extended warranty.”