The Hearse

Part 3—Resurrection

Gruenfraeulein’s note: all e-mail addresses used in this story are fake. Please do not write to them, as I’m sure it will annoy any people who might possibly possess them in reality.

This time when I left the Rosenthals’ house, I actually went home, dragged myself out of the hearse and inside to see Jake with his arms crossed standing in front of me. “Hey,” he said, flat-voiced.

“Hey,” I sneered. “So where’s dad?”

“Duluth.”

“Back to work already?”

“No. I checked him into an intensive rehab facility there. The van picked him up an hour ago.”

“You didn’t even ask me about it?” I exclaimed.

“You weren’t here. He needed help. I’ve been planning this for a while.”

“So how long will he be there?”

“At least six weeks.”

“I’m guessing this costs something.”

“Everything does, Bridget.”

“Guess I’d better pick up some more hours, then.”

“Why? You don’t want to.”

“No, but I can’t have the job I really want, can I?”

“No, you just can’t have it here. Mr. Obelsen doesn’t own the only auto mechanic’s shop in the world.”

I looked at Jake, his goofy brown sweater and capri pants more suited to North Carolina than Minnesota. He looked more grown-up now than he usually did. Why did you always accept all the responsibility? I thought. Jake’s your twin, he’s as old as you are, you should’ve been equals.

And you still can be—now that it can be his turn.

I thought of Nate then—Nate going to New York, Nate who I had felt beautiful around. Who had calmed me down and made me feel as though I somehow mattered.

If you have something this beautiful, I thought, why even dare give it up? If this is the one thing in your life that seems like it could work—why risk losing it?

“I’ll be back soon,” I told Jake.

“You don’t need to,” he said. I rushed out to the hearse again. I drove to our town’s library—the one place with reliable internet service. I wondered if we would ever have it with Nate leaving. If they would, I should say—internet access would be easy to come by where I was headed.

I didn’t even bother talking to Sheila Ivander, the librarian, I just rushed straight to the computer corral, not looking at who was sitting beside me. New York City auto mechanics, I typed into Google.

I got about a million results.

One of the shops was run by someone named Beth. Beth! I thought. A woman! Then another thought: I’ll be entering a whole new world now.

Beth had an e-mail address. Oddly enough, so did I—in high school Jake had gotten into the computer club for a while, and when he had made his own address, he made one for me, too. So thoughtful, my brother is. But however morbid the name, I could still write to her for a job.

“I thought you couldn’t travel,” a voice next to me said. I looked—part of me was hoping for Nate, but I knew that the voice wasn’t deep enough to be his. And I was right—it was Tom Raven standing there instead.

“I didn’t think I could, no.”

“So what about your brother and father?”

“They’re none of your business, but they’re taken care of. I’m not abandoning anyone. I’m not breaking any promises. And I’m still not working for you.”

“Why not?”

“Because, Tom. I have no desire to model. I’m not like that, no matter how much ‘talent’ I may have. I’m a mechanic.”

He shook his head. “You’re wasting your potential.”

“No,” I said. “I was wasting it at that grocery store. Now I’m using it.”

I walked away from him, then, to the library doors, to my hearse. And I would have driven home then, had someone not been blocking my door.

“Hi, Gina,” I said. “What’s up?”

“You talked to Tom Raven again,” she accused. Her voice didn’t sound at all like I expected it to—she sounded fragile and hurt rather than her usual stuck-up arrogant self.

“Yeah I did,” I said. “Why?”

She shook her head, and I could sense tears were about to fall. “Why was he talking to you?” she asked. “Aren’t I…beautiful? Aren’t I the model here?”

“What do you mean, Gina? You’re a waitress. Not a model.”

“You’re the grocery store stock girl! I don’t want to be a waitress my whole life, Bridget. I sent some pictures to New York…Tom Raven—he was sent here for me but then he got bored.”

“I thought he was just looking for talent.”

“That might’ve been what he told you, but it wasn’t true…we were discussing my portfolio—however meager it is—and then he sees you across the street fixing that damn hearse and just leaves.”

“No insulting my car, Gina,” I warned.

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes searched my face.

“Well, I’m not. I can’t be. I didn’t ask Tom Raven to speak to me, I declined his request, and I told him to talk to you. He’s the one at fault, Gina, not me.”

She nodded. “I know…I talked to him again later. He said he was looking for someone ‘exotic.’ Look at me! I’m the only Persian girl in Minnesota! What’re you? British?”

“Iwish,” I said. A caveat to Jake.

“You wish you were British? Then what are you really?”

“‘Iwish’ means Irish-Jewish,” I explained. “It’s Jake’s word. And no, I don’t think I look particularly exotic. I think Tom Raven’s a liar, and I think you should send your pictures to someone else. Can I leave now? I have someplace important to be.”

She moved out of my way, then stopped. “Bridget?” she asked.

“Yeah?” I asked harshly. I was pretty impatient by then.

“What’s Jake been doing these past few years?”

“Raising a beaver, driving a truck, and generally not working. Why?”

“Does he still want to date me?”

“Still?” I asked.

“He asked me out senior year.”

“And you turned him down why?”

“For some reason I thought I had a chance of going to college. I knew he’d be staying here. I didn’t want that sort of relationship. But now…”

“Now that you want to leave and model, you mean? I’m sorry, Gina, but my brother’s been lovesick over you for years, and you make him sound like an afterthought. So if you do like him, then do something about it, but if you plan on using him and leaving, then just forget it, okay?”

And that was when I shoved my way into the hearse and drove off. If I was being too harsh to Gina Shaikh, I truly didn’t care, and I knew what affection felt like now. As far as I was concerned it was time for Jake to find someone real to fall in love with. Not everyone’s childhood obsession can become their adult soulmate. I didn’t even know if mine truly was yet, I just hoped so.

And it was that hope that carried me to one final destination on that Easter evening.

The Rosenthals’ house, yet again. Nate was sitting exactly where I had left him. I didn’t bother to think that this was any sort of metaphor—I already knew that he wasn’t staying there forever, I wasn’t staying there forever either. Superiorwood was far too small to truly support the dreams of people like us. Someone like Jake with his nonsensical notions about life and his languorousness could survive there until he died with his truck and some menagerie of animals. But then there were people like my mother—and Nate—and me, people whose ambitions and goals could only be achieved elsewhere.

I tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head slowly. “Hey,” he said. “Why’re you back?”

“My dad’s in an intensive alcohol rehab center. Jake’s going to try to support himself. And—I have to let them, you know? I have to just be able to say ‘Okay, he’s an adult. He’ll take care of himself.’ I mean, I can’t be his mother and his sister, you know?”

“I know. My grandmother told me it was just you and her there when he had his first seizure.”

“It was. I didn’t know what to do, but Violet did.”

“She volunteered at the hospital for a while—a long while. She saw a lot of stuff there.”

“It scared me so much—my brother had epilepsy. They thought I’d have it too, but I don’t. I was only seven, Nate. My mom couldn’t handle it for some reason, but I could—I could remind Jake to take his medicine and all of that…but I’m so glad Violet was there.”

“Always there for everyone.”

“I’ll miss her.”

“We all will.”

“I’m coming to New York with you,” I said, almost offhandedly. Like another of Gina Shaikh’s afterthoughts. He looked straight into my eyes.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I think what we have had the potential to be amazing,” I said. “I think I could actually do something with my life in that sort of city. I’ve always felt like I was on the verge of utter failure here, but maybe now I could be some sort of success?”

He nodded. “I think so,” he said. He took my face in his hands then and planted a kiss on my lips.

And we stayed like that, for the next hour or so, the future stretched before us, stretching away from the Rosenthals’ back yard across Lake Superior and eventually making its way to the city which would become my new home and the basis for my new life. And I was entranced by the beauty of how easily it swept me along with it.