The doorbell startles her a few minutes after dusk. After marking her page, she sets her book on the coffee table and walks to the door. Tiptoeing to glance out of the spyhole, she is immediately sickened by the sight of his pocked, anemic face, peering in from the other side. A knot twists in her belly. It beats like a second heart. She instinctively fastens the deadbolt and disappears into the corner — the way Brutus, her mutt of a terrier, used to when Tom would come home from O’Brien’s smelling like whiskey. Maybe he’ll go away, she thinks (like Tom) — though she realizes she is kidding herself, as optimists often do. She knows that if he is anything, it’s persistent — his slogan, ‘sooner or later, I always get what I come for.' After ringing a second time, he shouts through the door, “Come on, I know you’re there. I heard the lock.”
“Go away. I don’t want to see you.”
“Please,” he says. “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”
She makes him wait while she fixes her hair. She slowly opens door, hinges creaking. “Wipe your shoes, please.”
“Of course. Better yet, I will take them off. So, how have you been? You look wonderful,” he says.
“If we could cut the small talk…I would appreciate...”
“As you wish. It’s time for THE…I mean, YOUR trip.” His tone is frigid and metallic.
“I expected as much. Do you mind if I place a few things in order?”
“Actually, I do. You have had all this time to organize…”
“Yes, but I didn’t expect you yet.”
“No one ever does.”
“What if I refuse. You know…to go with you?”
“You can’t. As you may recall, I’m really good at my job…legendary, actually. She, whom I seek, shall follow.”
“Oh, please. Spare me the formalities.”
“I just thought you might like…I mean, I see you are reading Dickinson.” He points to the coffee table. “Of all, she was the one who understood me best.”
“God, you are so vain.”
“Exactly the boss’s words.” He belts out a sadistic laugh that echoes across the pewter green walls. “Have you painted? It makes the room look bigger, as I recall, since I was last here visiting Tom... and the dog…what was his name?”
“Brutus.”
“Yes. Yes. A fine animal. I mean Brutus, not T--.”
A tear falls from her cheek. “I knew what you were referring to. I just don’t understand why you even exist.”
“I’m the equalizer. Life without me would have no meaning. You would all just be lumps...have no purpose.”
“But…you bring so much pain. And you seem to get off on it.”
“Well, I do take pride.” He folds his hands and smirks. “But the pain part. That’s on you…on your thinking...on your lack of awareness. I can’t take responsibility for that.”
She speaks in a sheepish tone, “Maybe not, but it feels too short. It’s unfair.”
“Oh, please. I wish you would give credit...where credit is due. If only you would have acknowledged me.”
“I did. So many times…with Mother and Father…with Brutus.
“I mean, personally.”
“But I’m happy, finally happy. Why would I think of you? What right do you have to come here and…?
“The lottery is the lottery.”
“OK, Shirley Jackson.”
“Think about it. For once, just go beyond your limited view.” He stands from his chair and points to his chest with bent thumbs. “I take suffering away. All of you are here...wanting things…desiring things. It makes you hurt. I take that pain away. Shit, you should be thanking me. The existentialists and the nihilists do.”
“Yeah, you’re such a noble being.”
“Well, maybe if you really understood the whole situation.”
“I’m all ears. I can’t wait for you to explain.” She rolls her hand for him to speak.
“As I said, my presence brings beauty and meaning to your life. There’s no Shakespeare without me. There’s no Dickinson. There’s not even Shirley Jackson. Their stories only mean something because of… Besides, I’m just like an Uber driver anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not the end. I just take you to where YOU decide to go…after I pick you up, that is. All the western religious types, they get dropped off at their respective terminals…merge with their God. All the eastern philosophical types, they get dropped off at their terminals, and instead jump on connecting flights. I’m just a tool. A transport mechanism — nothing more, nothing less.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“That would be your choice.”
“Well, I don’t really believe in anyth---.”
“Maybe that’s why you are having so much trouble with this.”
She swallows his words. “Where do the faithless get dropped off?”
“Nowhere, of course.”
“I just need a second to figure this…”
“You've had your whole life. I have another hundred and fifty thousand more calls today. Please, don’t make me drag you.” He goes to the door and slides on his loafers. “Please, turn the lights off. You people are killing the environment by wasting all this energy.”
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