now you’ve found yours. All is as it should be,” Royce said, pressing his hands together and bowing toward me.
“But — what about my house? And — and my dog —” I shook my head, unable to finish, unable to understand how it got to this point. At first I was so excited, sure I’d won the afterlife lottery by getting to go back, only to have it all ripped out from under me as everything familiar slipped away too.
“You’re free to come back and visit between assignments,” Aurora said, glowing in the most beautiful, mesmerizing way. “And Buttercup,” she smiled, “is free to travel alongside you.”
“Really?” I cocked my head to the side, wondering how Buttercup might feel about that. “Does he have a destiny to fulfill too?” I asked.
Only to be met by the sound of Royce’s deep, hearty laugh when he shook his head and said, “Dogs are a gift to mankind. They are happy and joyful and loyal by nature. They are pure, positive energy and teach by example. That is all that’s required of them.”
I nodded, doing my best to take it all in. It may not have been what I’d first thought, or even what I’d hoped for, but still, it could’ve been a lot worse.
My thoughts interrupted by Aurora when she said, “Riley, how about we let go of your past and look instead toward your future. What do you say? Are you ready to make that leap?”
And before I could answer, before I could do much of anything, Buttercup ran out from behind the red velvet curtain, tail wagging like mad, licking my face, and knocking me down in the way that always made me laugh. And by the time I finally got him to calm down, everyone was gone.
Not even waiting long enough for me to respond.
And that’s when I realized the question had been rhetorical.
My place had been determined.
Whether I liked it or not.
I stood outside with Buttercup beside me, both of us on high alert, waiting for some kind of sign.
Both of us equally clueless with absolutely no idea where to go, which way to turn, or what to do next.
And while it may seem weird for a person to look to their dog for guidance, the thing was, Buttercup’s the one that led my family to the bridge. He’s the one that leaped across first. So, with that in mind, I figured he might have some kind of unique, canine ability, some kind of yellow Lab instinct. Like a dog-only radar for these kinds of things.
But nope, he just sat there with his big brown eyes and pink nose, blinking at me as I gazed all around, thinking how a little instruction, a little guidance of some sort would’ve been nice.
But nooo.
The Council just vanished, just completely disappeared.
Who even knew where they went?
All I knew was that between me and Buttercup we hadn’t a clue how we were supposed to get from Here to There.
Was I supposed to just wish it — just desire it like everything else in this place? Or was there some kind of regularly scheduled transportation, like a bus, or a train, or even some kind of wings we could rent?
All I knew for sure was that the bridge I had crossed over to make the trip Here was strictly a one-way-only kind of thing. And I know this because I happened to look back the second I’d made it to the other side.
I wasn’t nearly as committed to the crossing as I’d pretended to be.
Only it was too late.
It’d completely vanished from sight.
Never to be seen again.
So, with no signs headed our way, I made for the nearest building instead. Motioning for Buttercup to follow along, figuring we should try to look for someone who might be willing to help, and we were just about halfway there when I heard:
“So, how’d it go? Did you cry? Grovel? Promise you could do better if only they’d give you another chance?”
My gaze narrowed, as my lips pressed tightly together, watching as dorky guy came up from behind me, head bent, clump of greasy hair swooping into his face as he paused to clean his glasses with the end of his tie. And I hate to admit it, but for that split second, he actually looked really different, almost like someone you’d call, well,cute.
But like I said, it didn’t last. It was pretty much over in a flash, and a moment later, the glasses were in place, his hair was greased back, and he returned to being dorky guy again.
“Why do you even wear those, anyway?” I motioned toward his thick, nerd frames, purposely ignoring his question. I had no intention of confiding anything about my life review to him, or anything else for that matter. In fact, I couldn’t wait to get myself to the earth plane where I’d never have to see him again. I was really looking forward to that. “Can’t you justwish for better eyesight? Or maybe try to manifest a cooler pair of glasses?” I looked at him, waiting for a response, but when he failed to answer, I said, “Seriously, there are much cooler frames you could wear, fashions have really advanced in the last several — decades — you’d be amazed!” I nodded, assuring myself I was veering much closer to helpful than judgmental. Just stating the facts as I so clearly saw them. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious you haven’t been anywhere near the earth plane, since—” I scrunched my brow and squinted, he was so out of date I couldn’t even guess when he was last seen alive.
“What happened to you anyway?” I asked. “How’d you end up here? Did you go head to head with a newly sharpened number two pencil? Did you accidentally choke yourself with your tie? Or, perhaps you actually died of the embarrassment of wearing clothes like that?” I shook my head and laughed, I couldn’t help it — sometimes I really crack myself up. And even though he failed to join in, that didn’t stop me from saying, “You do know you can manifest a whole new wardrobe, right? We’re really not bound to the mistakes of our past. So go ahead, knock yourself out. Just close your eyes and ask — What would Joe Jonas wear?”
But even though that last part really got me going, like the bent-over, thigh-slapping kind of going, my laughter was soon halted by the sound of him saying, “If you have to know, it was cancer. The big bad C did me in. Osteosarcoma — or bone cancer, as most people know it. They even removed my leg in an attempt to save me, but it was too late, it’d already spread all over the place.”
I gulped, my eyes locked on his, knowing I should say something, anything, but no words would come.
Telling myself he was just one of many. That this place was full of sad stories like his. Every tragic ending found its way Here. But still, it didn’t make me feel the slightest bit better. I’d had no right making fun of him like I did.
“I was well on my way to going pro too.” He shrugged. “It was back in 1999—missed the millennium, the timing couldn’t have been worse.” He looked at me and shook his head, his gaze so matter-of-fact, bearing not the slightest trace of ill will or regret. “But that’s how it goes sometimes, right?”
I nodded, weakly, I didn’t know what else to do. And even though I was curious as to just what kind of pro he was talking about, I was far too uncomfortable to ask.
I just stood there, watching as he turned, glanced at Buttercup sitting patiently beside me, and said, “Seriously? You’re bringing the dog?’ I rolled my eyes, my mood going from shamed to annoyed in a fraction of a second, as I looked all around, wondering where the hall monitors were. At my old school, you’d never get away with this kind of harassment, this kind of covert bullying and truancy. But Here, it seemed like pretty much anything goes. Like we were all on some kind of honor system or something.
Motioning for Buttercup to follow along as I turned and called out behind me, “For your information, the dog has a name — it’s Buttercup. ” I glared, shooting him my best over-the-shoulder death stare. “As for the rest, well, it’s really none of your business now is it?”
I picked up the pace, eager to put some distance between us, but it didn’t make the slightest bit of difference. No matter how fast I went, he was right there beside me, looking at me when he said, “Well, I can see why you might think that, but you’re wrong. It is my business. All potential travelers must be cleared by me. I decide who gets in and who doesn’t. Think of me as the bouncer for this particular trip.”
