Chapter 2
The shadow impatiently tapped it's fingers on the dining room table. "Well?" he shifted in his seat and crossed his arms. "Aren't you going to offer me a drink?"
Hazel took a searing shot of vodka. Her tolerance wasn't what it used to be. "Why? It's not like you can drink anyway," she poured herself another shot and angrily eyed the shadow. "It's not like I asked you to come back either."
"That's the funny thing about personal demons. We invite ourselves to the party," he let out a harsh laugh. "So aren't you going to offer your guest a drink?" he lazily sifted through the junk mail spread across Hazel's table. "When's the last time some one wrote you a letter? Must get lonely."
"Is that the best you can do?" Hazel knocked back another shot grimacing and stomping her foot. "You couldn't pick apart something like my inability to write story worth reading, or my posture?"
"Oh, no I couldn't. You and I both know that would be entirely too easy. No, it's much more fun to dig my thumbs deep into that festering wound of yours. Do you really think that bottle is a good place to hide from your past? Come on, really?" the shadow picked out a particularly heavy credit card pre-approval. "Well, at least some one likes you right?" he gingerly opened the letter lightly picking out each sheet and laying it out on the table. "Eenie meenie minee mo, catch a tiger by the toe," he picked up the sheet declaring that Hazel could access $3,000 right away if she would just sign one little sheet of paper. "Wowee, they like you three grand's worth. Aren't you liked you little love muffin," he winked at Hazel, she took a large gulp straight from the bottle. "Aaaaaw, did that strike a nerve sweetie?"
Hazel coughed a bit, "You're pretty lame for a personal demon. What next? You're going to push me down on the playground and pull my pig tails?"
"I'm not the one talking to her imagination."
She gulped down another shot and fought back the urge to let any of it back up, "Fair enough."
The shadow cackled while methodically folding the page. "It really is too bad. Getting left all alone in a strange place," he began to shape the paper. "No one to tell your sorrows, no one to share your day with," smiling he waved a paper heart in front of Hazel's eyes. "Oh, if only you could have done something to stop it. If only you got the chance…" he painfully tore the heart down the middle, "to say good bye."
Hazel finished the last third of the bottle without hesitation, sniffled, and fell to the floor.
...
"If something doesn't happen soon I'm going to just start running around this room screaming I'm a pretty wombat," Hazel stretched her legs.
"No you won't," Ingrid lazily picked something from her teeth. "Just sit tight, something is bound to happen eventually."
Mark stretched out across both lady's laps leaving a little drool on Hazel's leg. "If he weren't so darn cute I would probably be a bit grossed out right now."
"What's a little drool between friends," Ingrid softly chuckled. "Anyway, there are much worse things than a little drool," she cocked an eyebrow up and let out a little mmmHmmmmm.
Hazel rolled her eyes and sighed. Ugh, another mom joke. It's such an unfair thing to joke about considering she never was a mom herself. Might as well start cracking jokes about being in outer space or digging a hole to China. Hazel tried to force out a polite laugh. What else could she do, it's not like Ingrid cracked the joke out of spite. "Still, if something interesting doesn't happen soon I'll have to make something happen. Just saying."
"What would you do? What is there to do? Walk around the room? Pick on the teenager? Steal a hat? Why don't you just read your book? Something will happen eventually… or it won't. One of the two," Ingrid took Hazel's book from the pew and placed in Hazel's lap. "It can't be as bad as you say. You seem like a smart young woman. I'm sure you wrote something lovely."
"Trust me, I wouldn't lie about something like that," Hazel listlessly flipped through the pages.
"I doubt that," Ingrid motherly rubbed Hazel's back and patted it. "There are no mistakes in art. At least that's what I always used to tell…"
Hazel let a pause build between them. Remembering the past needed a little time in that place. Once the hole in the conversation seemed filled she began to read from her book, half to prove herself right, half for something to do. "He smiled in the kind of way that porcelain dolls smile - creepy as hell. 'Oh, Mr. Trigger. Poor Mr. Trigger. Do you seriously think that you're the only person capable of tapping this kind of strength? If you lose, another will come along, and then another. I'll just keep collecting your poor souls until I'm finally so powerful that I can knock that high and mighty ruler off his post. So, again, Mr. Trigger, if you want to save them,' he disappeared. 'Then come and get me,' the voice rang out from everywhere and nowhere all at once," Hazel looked up at Ingrid with one cocked eyebrow and let out a little mmmhmmmm.
"Oh, it's not…" she took in a little breath knitting her eyebrows together. "It's not so bad. I like the idea of a guy named Trigger."
"Really? I think it makes him sound more like a talking horse than a person. Like Mr. Ed, just in the old west."
"No, no, no hun, it… The story has… There's emotion and that's good," Ingrid jokingly punched Hazel in the shoulder as if to say 'buck up buttercup.'
Hazel flipped to another page, "The next morning I got a new shirt that wasn't really my style, but it wasn't all that bad. They offered me shoes, but I turned them down just because I was starting to enjoy not having any on. What can I say? My toes enjoy freedom. Toby and I stocked up on snacks and gas. We hugged everyone and said our good-byes. It was time to head to Zion, and what I thought was my destiny."
Hazel looked back at Ingrid and silently watched as she worked on thinking of something nice to say. "Well it doesn't help that you're taking all these quotes out of context deary. I'm sure they make more sense if you have the story that goes with them. It does seem a bit pretentious though… Zion? Really?"
"It was a hot summer. Ya' write funny things in 100 degree weather."
"Maybe you could try rewriting it. It's not like you have much else to do right now," Ingrid picked up her copy of the book and flipped to the first page. "Where would someone start a novel about their afterlife? Should they start with the beginning; their end? Should they jump to the half-way point and let their readers know much later in the story the narrator is actually dead? Or should it be told almost completely through allegory? I'm posed with this problem right now. Where do I begin my afterlife novel? Maybe the beginning is the best spot to start. It is, after all, the beginning," she cleared her throat.
"I'm not sure there's much in it that I actually want to save at this point. Honestly I would like it if I could un-write the thing," Hazel kicked her copy under the pew in front of her. "I had it all wrong anyway. But how would I have kn…"
...
"Oh, baby fall down go boom?" the shadow crossed his legs in that weird loose I'm still manly kind of way and then to add to the atmosphere he snapped every joint in his hands.
Hazel couldn't talk for fear of losing her dignity. It took concentration to stay still enough not to upset the volatile contents of her stomach, and even then she wasn't far off from letting loose. A mixture of a panic attack and zen state awkwardly held its place on the floor.
"You know what he would say if he saw you like this right?" the shadow tapped out shave, "He would say what are you doing drinking that poison? You know it's haram!" then he finished with a haircut. Hazel swallowed down a well of tears mixed with… well it was mixed. "Some way to honor his memory. Hell in this state I don't think you could honor much of anything. Do you feel any better? Well, do you? No of course you don't. And do you know why?" he pushed away from the table, slowly walked over to Hazel, crouched down, and quickly turned her on her back. "No matter where you go, no matter what you do, you are always there. So run little one, I'll keep up easily enough."
Hazel's dignity disappeared in a collection of gasps, tears, and convulsions. What a way to remember, what a
way to say good-bye.
…
An odd looking man balanced himself on the small rubble pile. His sledge hammer carelessly tossed aside after opening the door. Or more specifically, making the door. "Excuse me, but is there a Hazel uh…. Hasen… ferfeffer… fever… Hazenfer? Hazel Book lady! Are you in here?" he shielded his eyes and theatrically searched the congregation. "You know! The lady that wrote that book… uh what the hell was it called?" he snapped his fingers near his ears. "Hey Carl! What's the name of that book again?!" the man vigorously shook his head at what the unheard Carl said. "Ya the lady that wrote that Interpretive Dance at 65 MPH book, front and center!" he stamped his foot, slipped on a loose brick, and fell on his butt.
"The fresh air feels nice," Hazel wasn't sure what else to say in the moment. In a matter of minutes a man in slouchy dingy clothes managed to smash a hole in the wall of the church and then yell out that he was looking for her. Not just looking for her, but looking for her because she wrote that awful book. What kind of a thing should one say in that situation? How could she just pop up instantly and run over to him?
"It really does. I almost forgot how nice fresh air smelled," Ingrid took in a deep joyous breath. "What do you say that we go out and enjoy some sunshine?"
"That sounds lovely!" Hazel nudged Mark awake. The two women led him by the hand through the hole in the side of the church.
"Excuse me ladies," the man wrung his hands. "But I don't supposed you know where I could find this Hazel lady. I sorta need to take her to meet some one."
"Oh really? Who are you taking me to meet exactly?" Hazel coyly smiled before gleefully dropping to her back on the grass. "I hope it's some one important, because right now I have no inclination to go anywhere," she soaked up the rays of the sun, filled herself with the cool breeze, and marveled at the passing clouds.
"He said that it was important that I come and get you right away. He said that you would know who he was," the man started walking over to her.
"Well whoever it is, he can wait," in the background she could hear Mark happily screaming as he frolicked, or whatever it is the kids are doing these days.