“Bartholomew, break it down for her, please.” Constantine didn’t stop cleaning his paw when he spoke.
“Isis, it’s simple. When people die, their souls separate from their bodies. Death is there to collect them. Souls are powerful, and at times other entities try to steal them. Death doesn’t have time to track those incidents down, so the interns do.” Bartholomew actually believed that made sense. Somebody help me!
“Interns? There’s more than one intern?” Of all the things I had heard, why did that bother me?
“Of course, silly child. There’s one per continent. Do you honestly think you could monitor the whole world? We’re responsible for North America. This is going to take us a while.” Constantine gave me that bored looked again, but at least he was done grooming himself.
“If you’re responsible for all of North America, why would you pick Texarkana for a home base?” I was trying to sound just as snotty as Constantine.
“We didn’t. You did. We’re here because you’re here,” Bartholomew said very softly, trying to avoid my glare.
“We were doing fine in New York. You know how hard it is to find gluten-free food for this boy?” It was Constantine’s turn to sound snippy.
There was no way I was responsible for them being there. “OK, this is crazy. I need to get home. I can’t take any more of this.” I got up to try to find the exit.
“Don’t forget your manual. Your minivan is outside with the keys in the ignition. By the way, why does a twentysomething girl drive a minivan?” Constantine asked as he curled up on the couch, ready for a nap.
“It can carry a lot of stuff,” I replied weakly as I got my bearings again. I slowly walked toward the door.
“Still odd, unless you were planning on starting a band.” Constantine chuckled to himself.
I looked over my shoulder, and Bartholomew was busy scanning his monitors.
“Bye, Isis. See you tomorrow!” Bartholomew yelled, not even looking up from the screens.
“Bye,” I whispered. I prayed I would never see either of them again.
Chapter 4
I was late for work. I was never late for work. Thanks to the army, I was brainwashed to believe that being on time meant late. Everywhere I went, I was at least fifteen minutes early. Today I was barely moving. As my drill sergeant used to say, I was moving like pond water. My shift at Abuelita’s started at 4:00 p.m. It was 4:45 p.m. by the time I showed up. Honestly, it wasn’t as if anyone could blame me, if I could tell a soul.
I had managed to crawl back to bed by 7:00 a.m. The sun was coming up when I drove home. I hadn’t done an all-nighter in years. My party days were over. At least when I was partying, I didn’t end up feeling depressed and overwhelmed. I prayed for sleep, but all I got were nightmares. I had been plagued by nightmares since my parents’ death. The nightmares were worse after the military. The ones this morning were not any better. I popped an Ambien at eleven o’clock after waking myself up screaming. Thanks to the VA, I had more pills than a pharmacy. Why cure the problem when you can knock it out?
The Ambien did the trick. I had a dreamless slumber. Unfortunately, it was hard to wake up from a drug-induced sleep. It was 4:16 p.m. when I woke up. My head was pounding, and I felt as if I had run a marathon. My body ached everywhere. I took a military three-minute shower and was out the door by 4:35 p.m. The blessing of Texarkana was that there was very little traffic, and you could get anywhere in less than ten minutes. Even speeding, I was still very late. It rankled me. I hated being late.
Saturday at Abuelita’s was our busy night. Abuelita’s offered a half-off menu from 4:30 to 7:30 p.m. As I pulled up, I could see that the place was packed. The three tables were filled with families, while the bar was packed with people waiting for carryout. I ran out of the Whale and went in the back door. No need to try to fight with the crowd.
“Girl, late night? Where were you partying? You look like hell.” Angelito was back in his usual mood, very mischievous.
“Hi to you, too, Angelito.” I didn’t even try to smile.
Angelito was beaming like firelight. He had had a great night, by the look of his neck. Some poor soul had left her mark on him. He was shameless, wearing them like a badge of honor. I passed him and headed straight for the kitchen counter. Abuelita was by her double stoves cooking away.
“Isis, are you OK? We called four times, and you didn’t answer.” There was concern in Abuelita’s voice.
Great. Now I felt like hell. Another thing I hated was having people worry about me.
“Yes, I’m sorry, Abuelita. I couldn’t sleep, and I took an Ambien this morning. It knocked me out, and I missed my alarm.” That was the truth. No need to explain the reason for my lack of sleep.
“Child, I told you, those pills are going to kill you. I got a tea you should try. It’s all natural and will help you sleep. Maybe even cure those nightmares for you.”
How did Abuelita know about my nightmares? Sometimes I wondered if she was a mind reader. Before I could wonder for too long, three plates of food were flying at me. On Saturday nights, Angelito and I took turns serving and cleaning tables. With the two of us handling the customers, Abuelita pushed more food out than most McDonald’s fully staffed.
Saturday nights were my favorite night at work. We were busy most of the night, the tips were great, and time flew by. This was not one of those nights. My head pounded most of the night, and my vision was blurry. I had floaters in my eyes—those little
