Of course, I felt guilty as soon as I thought that. I’d never wish my existence on anyone else.
“Hello, again,” Uncle Victor said, ever the professional. “Sorry to drop in unannounced, but I wanted to personally tell you that you are no longer suspects in my investigation. I apologize for any inconvenience. You’re free to leave the city whenever you want. But first, my niece wanted to return your journal.” He nudged me with an encouraging nod.
I dug around my tote bag and produced the leather-bound book. “It was an incredible read. Thanks for sharing it with me.”
“Of course.” Angela accepted the book with reverence. “We are family, after all.”
I tried not to be intimidated by her worshipful expression. I’d come here with a purpose. I couldn’t be distracted. “I have a lot of questions.”
Angela’s face brightened with child-like excitement. “Good. So do I. Care to sit?” She held a hand out toward the desk and the simple wooden chair sitting beneath the TV which hung on the wall.
“Sure.” I handed the box of donuts to my uncle and stepped forward, giving Angela an awkward smile.
We walked together, careful not to brush elbows in the confined space. There was a queen-size bed in the middle of the room between two small end tables. An alcove before the bathroom sported a counter with a coffee maker on it. Just like in all the hotel rooms in all the movies I’d ever seen. Under different circumstances, I might’ve been more interested in the room since I’d never been in a hotel before, but the questions that had popped up while reading Angela’s diary were back, demanding my full attention.
“Coffee, Detective?” Jerald asked, pointing at the pot.
My uncle had just finished a cup but he nodded all the same. “Yes. Thank you.”
The two of them stepped into the alcove. It must’ve been even more awkward for them, being in such close proximity and having nothing to talk about, but I knew they were trying to give us privacy which I appreciated. I sat in the front desk. Angela plopped down over the edge of the bed, holding the journal against her torso.
I tugged on the end of my skirt, ran my fingers over the patterns in my tights, crossed and uncrossed my ankles. Finally, I gave a tiny laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m nervous.”
“It’s perfectly fine.” Angela placed a hand over her heart. “I am too. How can I put you at ease?”
“Tell me something funny and weird about yourself.” It was the first thing that came to mind, but once I’d thrown it out there, I knew it was the right call. Laughter could break any tension. “For example: I never learned how to whistle. The last time I tried, I managed to bite my tongue.”
Angela chuckled. “Very well. I’m allergic to sea bass but I absolutely cannot say ‘no’ to a good bowl of ceviche. I pack a box of EpiPens every time we visit Mexico.” She drew in a big gulp of air and held it in, making her whole face puff up like a blowfish.
I laughed. “Wow. What did you do before EpiPens?”
“I withstood the itchiness and bloating until it faded away.” She shrugged. “I can survive without breathing so it was only a minor discomfort.”
“Right.” Pinching an eye shut, I smiled apologetically. “I forgot.”
She pursed her lips but there was laughter in her eyes.
The floor unit kicked on, sending a gust of dry, warm air over us.
I tucked my hair behind my ears. It was time to get serious. Despite my burning desire to pepper her with questions about their travels, I knew we couldn’t sit here all afternoon. I had to prioritize, ask the most important questions first.
“I’m so sorry.” I twisted my hands in my lap, unable to meet her questioning gaze. “Every word you wrote was laced with sadness and regret, fear and turmoil. You were given a gift but it came at such an enormous price. It’s haunted you, taken everything from you, sent you on a path you never wanted to take. Having read the journal cover to cover, I know—” I blinked hard. “I know you’d do anything to be free of your curse, same as us. But…forgive my naivety, but hasn’t it also been a good thing? Traveling, studying, growing, experiencing, with no physical or monetary limit, with no time restraint: it’s every human being’s dream, isn’t it?”
Angela lowered the book into her lap and ran a hand over the cover.
“So, why? Why give it all up to live a mortal life and die, just like everyone else?”
“We’re still stuck,” Angela said softly. “We have experienced all this world has to offer, except that which we truly desire: to start a family, grow old, die.” She looked up with a pleading expression. “We can never truly know what it means to be alive because we’ll never know death. There is beauty and…meaning in the finite. It’s so difficult to find fulfillment and pleasure in an existence that has no end.”
I swallowed a great big ball of tears. We were so alike it was almost scary.
“I’m forced to die the same way people within my radius do,” I found myself admitting. “I visit Death every time, watch her escort souls to heaven or hell, get a glimpse of the peace and freedom in the afterlife, only to be brought back to life again. I’ve tried to kill myself.”
Angela sucked in a breath, her fingers tightening around the book.
“Death intervened. Said neither of us could escape our fate. I don’t
