still working on that one

He was standing amongst the crowd, the little man in the black beret. As she walked through seeing a familiar face here and there she could feel his eyes burning into her. Every time she looked in the direction of where he was, he was staring at her, his face serious, almost deadly. Then he would turn back to the three or four people he happened to be talking to and his face would shatter into laughter as someone cracked a joke or made a funny comment.
She spotted Michael across the crowded room and attempted to walk toward him. As she did, someone would join a group of people just in front of her, blocking her way. She’d turn in a different direction, but someone else would be blocking her as well. No amount of “excuse me” or “let me through, please” or even “get the hell out of my way” would make these people move. No one could hear her. No one could see her; she was invisible.
She looked up the little man in the black beret again. He was looking at her; his face was grave. All the color had run from his cheeks and he was shaking his head.
“They can’t see you,” a voice said. She looked around, but no one else was looking at her like they had said something. She looked back at the black beret; a small thin smile had curled around his face. He was still shaking his head and his shoulders began to shake with laughter.
She needed to get to Michael. She had to talk to him, to find out what was going on. She tried to push her way through the crowd. She was going to get to him if she had to climb on their heads. Her barricades were tough, but finally gave way, if she pushed hard enough. She was getting closer. She was almost there. She shot one last look toward the man in the black beret, but he was gone. As she turned her attention back to Michael, she was blocked again, this time by the man in the black beret. He stepped directly in front of her, looking right at her, looking… almost through her. The slight smile turned into a sneer.
“He can’t see you. He can’t hear you. Nobody can hear you.” His laughter invaded her ears like a siren. It pounded her brain. His shoulders shook much more violently this time and he opened his mouth to speak again…

“Hey good morning to all you folks out there in the tri-state area. This is WGBF with the Mark Slater morning show!”
She opened her eyes to the sight of the ceiling above her. She groaned and rolled over to hit the snooze button. It was all a dream. She was no longer standing in a crowded room where she was invisible. She was still at home in her bed. She was no longer trying to push her way toward Michael. He was gone now and there was nothing she could do about it. Michael had been dead over a year now, but she was still dreaming about him. Probably because he was the only man she ever loved. Probably the only man she will ever love again. No, it was just a dream. No more little man in a black beret telling her things she already knew. She was a ghost in that world, no one could see or hear her. Michael would be there, obviously because he was no longer part of this world, the world of the living.
“And now for this morning’s weather…” The radio blared loudly in her ears again. “ Sunny today, with a high in the upper 80’s to near 90’s. People are cautioned to keep watch on the elderly and young children as the heat may cause dehydration.” Oh, she thought, just a few more minutes. As she rolled over again to slap the top of her radio and ultimately set the snooze for another nine minutes she heard, “ And that’s our report. Time is currently 8:45.”
8:45! She had to be at work in fifteen minutes! Jed was going to kill her if she was late again! She leaped from the bed and raced into the bathroom. She emerged a few minutes later wearing only her bra and panties and headed to the closet. She looked around the room. Michael had been dead over a year but the room still had his presence. She’d never bothered to clean up his belongings after he died. Partly this was out of laziness, but mainly because she was afraid. She was afraid of starting over without him. She, somewhere in the back of her psyche, thought that if she kept his things just as they were, things would remain just as they were. Michael would come home and they would return to being the world’s happiest newlyweds.
Marianne had met Michael in the summer of 1994. She was a junior in high school with dreams of becoming a successful writer. He was a handsome recent graduate who planned one day to have his own restaurant, but for now, settled to be a manager for a major fast-food chain.
They married in the summer of 1999. They wanted it to be their greatest accomplishment in the millennium; the last big hurrah before the year 2000. And in the last few months before Michael died, they had talked about starting a family. Marianne loved Michael with all her heart and soul. She could’ve never imagined her life without him.
She got the call at 3am on July 27th, just one month after their first anniversary. It didn’t sink in right away. There’d been an accident. Could she come to the hospital right away?
On the fifteen-minute cab ride to Holy Trinity Hospital, Marianne thought that perhaps Michael had carelessly placed his hand on a hot surface and was burned, or maybe he slipped on a wet floor and hit his head. When she entered the emergency room, the police were waiting for her. Panic set in.
“I need to see my husband! Is he all right? What happened? Where is he?”
“Mrs. Avalon, I think you should sit down.”
Marianne sat, trembling, as the two police officers told her the events that took place.
Michael had been at work. It was late and the lobby of the store was closed, leaving only the drive-thru open to customers. One of his employees had opened the doors of the lobby to let in his friend, a former employee whom Michael had fired. The boy, 19 year-old Stephen Noonan, then pulled a gun and threatened Michael. He told Michael that he had ruined his life and reputation; the boy was apparently fired for stealing money. Michael tried to reason with him. Told him that if he were smart, he would leave right now so that he wouldn’t acquire a criminal record. Noonan told him that because of Michael, he would never be able to get another job. Michael said of course he would, but if he didn’t leave now he was going to jail and he wouldn’t have to worry about finding another job for a few years. Eyewitnesses said that Noonan started to calm down a bit and when Michael reached for the gun Noonan fired.
He was in surgery now, but it didn’t look good. As the officers were talking to her, Marianne noticed a man in green hospital scrubs appear behind them. He had on a paper cap and the mask was pulled down around his neck.
“Mrs. Avalon?” The name that she had wanted to answer to for so long suddenly sounded so distant. Like it wasn’t hers. She stood up, still trembling, searching the doctor’s face for some good news.
“Okay?” she squeaked. It was all she could get out. She was shaking so badly that she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to walk.
“I’m Dr. Sullivan. I’m the doctor who performed the surgery on your husband. We’ve managed to control the bleeding, but the bullet went right through his body. He was shot a point-blank range. There’s a lot of damage and we don’t know if he’ll make it through the night.”
“But… but you said you controlled the bleeding?” she heard herself say, not realizing that she said it.
“Yes, Mrs. Avalon, control, not stop. He’s still bleeding internally, the bullet when through his left lung and kidney, barely missed his heart. He’s being moved into ICU. We did the best we could. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes fell to the floor. “I want to see my husband,” she rasped.
“You can see him in a few minutes. He’ll be on the third floor in ICU. The nurses can help you further. I’m sorry.” Dr. Sullivan took a few steps back, touched the toe of his right foot to the floor behind his left heel and in a military about-face, turned and walked down the hall.
A few minutes later she was in the room with Michael holding his hand. It was cold. His fingertips felt like ice against her cheek as she pressed her face against them. There were tubes and needles coming from everywhere and ending in some part of his body. He looked like a creature from a bad horror movie. One that didn’t have enough of a budget for a mask and costume so the lead monster was played by a man with tubes taped to his mouth and nose. “Tentacle man” he would be called. And he would ravage some small town “X”, killing all the men and raping all the women. One woman however, would take pity on the poor thing and practically fall in love with him. She would help him find peace and—
“Mrs. Avalon?” She was ripped from her thoughts by the sound of a young man’s voice. Marianne looked up to see a frightened young boy wearing a green and white flannel shirt under a torn denim jacket.
“Who are you?” she squeaked.
“Mrs. Avalon, is he going to live?” Suddenly she realized who he was. He was Stephen Noonan. He wasn’t at all what she expected. She had imagined Stephen Noonan to be a tall muscular young man with acute acne and maybe a small tick like the way most gun-wielding lunatics are portrayed on television. In actuality, he was short, shorter than she, and skinny. He had wild red hair and lots of freckles. Although he was only a few years younger than she, he looked much younger. Twelve almost. She was right about the acute acne part anyway. Must have been all that time working the fry machine.
“I don’t know, Stephen,” she said. “You hurt him pretty badly. The doctors can’t stop the bleeding and they’re just going to wait….” She looked up at the frightened young boy. He didn’t look frightened anymore. He looked sad. She noticed big, fat tears streaming down his face and watched as he brought his hands together. When she realized what was in his hands she started to cry. It was the same gun he had used to shoot Michael the first time and now he was coming back to finish the job. He couldn’t completely kill him the first time. Now he was going to take advantage of the fact that Michael was helpless lying in this hospital bed.
The gun shone in the light from the hallway. She watched as he pointed it toward her husband, his arms outstretched, his elbows locked. He meant to pull that trigger and kill her husband.
Marianne could do nothing. She was just as helpless as Michael, frozen in fear. Her lower lip trembled; her cheeks were soaked with tears as was the collar of the t-shirt she’d thrown on before she dashed off to be with her husband. It was Michael’s shirt she’d put on in that mad rush. She didn’t realize it until this was all over. Noonan’s eyes were cold, he was still crying, but determination had taken over his face. He was going to finish this job.
“Mrs. Avalon, I’m sorry,” he said and suddenly his elbows bent and he pulled the trigger, firing the gun into his own mouth. He died instantly and his body fell to the floor with an unnatural Thud! The gun spilled from his hands as the blood spilled from the back of his cranium. He had blown a hole clear through his head, shattering his skull and exposing what was left of is brain. Marianne began to scream as the nurses raced in to the sound of the gun. They found a young man with a hole in his head. Blood and brain matter were splattered on the wall around a small hole where the bullet exited Noonan’s skull and lodged itself behind him. Standing next to the bed of a patient was the patient’s wife, horrified, grief stricken, so much so that she could not speak to the police when they wanted to ask her questions.
“I want to stay with my husband,” was all she could say to them.
Marianne held Michael’s hand tighter now. She stared at his face praying that he’d open his eyes. He did for a brief moment and looked at her lovingly.
“I love you, Michael,” she said through her tear-choked voice. He smiled and squeezed her hand gently. And then he was gone. His hand went limp and the monitor on his heart gave out a continuous beep. Marianne knew it was over. Even as the nurses raced to administer CPR, Marianne knew there was no helping him. She had watched a wonderful and glorious thing.
Before the heart monitor went off, before the nurses came racing in, Marianne felt a warm rush of air blow past her and there was peace on Michael’s face. She turned her head in the direction of the breeze and there stood her Michael. He was smiling at her. He raised his hand as if to say goodbye. She watched his lips form the words “I love you” and then he was gone, faded into the world of the dead where she would visit him only in her dreams and where they would be reunited when her time had come.
Marianne was once again pulled from her thoughts this time by the sound of the phone ringing.
“Mar—Mar, pick up the phone,” the answering machine screamed. “Mar, it’s Jed. If you’re there, pick up the phone.” After a few minutes his voice softened. “Marianne, please pick up the phone.” She scrambled to the bedside table and reached for the receiver. She could see her hand was trembling. She balled her hand up into a fist and shook it as if she was trying to shake out the tremor that was slowly taking over her body.
“Jed? Are you still there?” she said after finally clasping her fingers around the receiver and placing it to her ear,
“Marianne, are you okay? What’s going on? It’s 9:30, why aren’t you here yet?” His voice was low with a hint of irritation.
“Jed, I’m sorry.” She didn’t realize she was crying until she started to speak. “I can’t come in today, Jed. It’s not a good day for me.”
“Mar—I need you. We need you. Solosovic is coming today. You know he’s one of our biggest and brightest stars.”
“I know that Jed, but I’m in no condition to come in.”
“Is it Michael?” She held her breath when she heard his name. The tears began rolling down her cheeks even faster now and it was becoming difficult to continue this conversation.
“Jed, I just need to take today and get through this. Please understand.”
“I understand, but I’ll make a deal with you. Solosovic is due here at 11 am. If you come in for this meeting, then you can take as much time as you need.”
“I—I don’t know if I can do that, I…”
“Please Mar-- You’re the best and you’re the only reason we landed him. Please say that you’ll do this for me. Please? For me?”
“All right, I guess I can do it. But as soon as the meeting is over, I’m gone, okay?” She couldn’t resist him. She knew that she was the only reason Andre Solosovic agreed to meet with Polar Bear Publishing. She had wined him and dined him, metaphorically speaking, of course, she’d never actually met the man, but she’d spoken to him on the phone and sent him fruit baskets and theatre tickets out the wahzoo. The day he said he’d be willing to leave Batnam Books and negotiate with Polar, she was on top of the world. She knew that she was the one to land him.
She got to the building on 23rd and Avenue of the Americas at 10:55. She made her way up to the 15th floor where the main offices of Polar Bear Publishing were located. Jed was there waiting.
“Marianne, thank you.”
“You’re welcome Jed, but just remember what we agreed to. No asking me to wait a few minutes while you get something you want me to look at. As soon as this meeting is over, I’m leaving.”
“I understand.”
“Jed, Marianne?” Marianne turned to see Maria, Jed’s secretary- and often times mistress- standing at the door. “Mr. Solosovic is here. He’s waiting in the lobby.”
“Thank you Maria,” Jed said and winked. “Please show him in.” Maria giggled and winked back. Marianne’s stomach turned at the sight of this. Jed had a wife and three beautiful children and she’d lost count how many times Jed had asked her to join him after work for a drink. Jed had a wandering eye and quite possibly a following penis, but each time she was asked, Marianne politely declined stating that she had to go home to her husband. Jed respected her for that, but after Michael’s death, his invitations became more frequent and it was becoming harder to think of excuses to get out of it. His invitations could possibly be harmless, but Marianne didn’t want to take any chances at being called a home-wrecker. She knew that Jed loved his wife madly, but since the birth of their last child, Ashley had lost all interest in sex, so Jed took it upon himself to find other means of finding pleasure, mostly with other women. Marianne often wondered if Ashley knew of her husband’s womanizing, and had thought many times about asking her, but again she didn’t want to take any chances at ruining their marriage.
As Maria exited the doorway to bring in their soon-to-be client, Marianne watched as Jed’s eyes followed Maria, drinking her in. “God, I’m such a pig,” he muttered. He had often talked to Marianne about his troubles at home and about the women he had been seeing since Anthony was born. He didn’t think that Ashley knew about him, but if she did, she obviously didn’t care. He came home to his wife every night and that’s all that she cared about- or so he’d say.
Maria appeared back at the doorway with a man and cleared her throat.
“Jed, Marianne, this is Mr. Solosovic.” Marianne’s face turned white. Her eyes stared at the man standing before them. She started to feel faint. She could feel the sweat forming on the palms of her hands and the small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as if trying to pluck themselves free and run off in terror.
“Marianne? Mar, are you all right?” She could hear Jed’s voice, but she couldn’t see him. Her eyes were fixed on the man. The little man in the black beret. She had to get out of there. She had to run as fast as she could as far as she could. She had to get away.
“Marianne! Such a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been waiting for this moment for quite some time now. You are even more beautiful than I imagined. I…” Marianne suddenly stepped forward and stopped, then stepped forward again, trying to convince herself that this was just a coincidence and that this was not really the man from her dreams. Andre Solosovic stood before her, the little man in the black beret. He had a thick French accent but spoke perfect, fluent English.
“Maria, Maria, please bring Marianne a glass of water, she looks like she’s about to pass out.”
“No, no, I’m all right,” Marianne said, finally regaining her composure. “Mr. Solosovic, I’m very sorry. It is such a pleasure to meet you finally. Please forgive me, you look like someone I knew once. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It is nothing. Now let’s get down to business, shall we?”
The meeting lasted two hours. Solosovic had some doubts. He was worried that his public would not support this move to a different publisher. Jed assured him that this move would be without incident and that his readers would support him in whatever he did. Marianne offered little to this meeting. She was too awe-struck. She traced every feature in his face. How he furrowed his brow, how his eyes sparkled when his interest was peaked, how his face would shatter into laughter at one of Jed’s bad jokes.
Finally, the meeting was over and Solosovic agreed to sign with them. Jed agreed to a twenty-five thousand dollar per book advance for a four-book contract. The contract would be drawn by the end of the day and messengered to Solosovic’s home on the upper west side.
When Solosovic was gone, Marianne got ready to leave. As she reached for her purse, Jed put his hand on her shoulder. “Marianne, I’m worried about you,” he said. His eyes were cool and his hand was warm on her shoulder.
“Jed, thank you, but I’ll be fine. I just need some more time.”
“After the reaction you gave to Solosovic when he walked in the door, I thought you were going to run screaming from the room. You looked so scared, no, terrified. Did you know him?”
“No, I didn’t know him… I thought he looked like someone I knew once, but he wasn’t that man.” He looked like the man that has been haunting me in my fucking dreams if you must know, but that can’t possibly be. It can’t be him.
“You want to stick around a little and get some lunch?” Jed smiled.
“No Jed, I do not. I want to go home and get myself together, thanks.”
“It was worth a shot.” He walked her to the elevator and grabbed her hand as the doors opened. “If you need anything…”
“I know, thanks Jed.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. A slight smile curled up his lip she swore she saw a twinkle in his eyes. She stepped into the elevator and waited for the doors to close. As Jed stepped away from the closing elevator doors, she could see Maria walking toward him, her mouth all wrinkled up like she was getting ready to yell at him. Marianne knew that she would yell at him. Maria was quite jealous of Jed’s advances toward Marianne and Marianne often joked to herself that Maria wanted to be the only “other woman” in Jed’s life. She can have him. I sure as hell don’t. She thought.
The elevator dinged at the thirteenth floor and the doors opened. Probably someone going for a late lunch or a coffee run, she thought as she waited patiently for the doors to close. When no one boarded the elevator car she figured it was someone who was waiting, but had been called back to their office for something. She suddenly felt the urge to poke her head out of the car and look around. The doors remained open. Marianne stepped forward, slowly hoping that someone would be running down the hall toward her. She peered out into the hallway. It was empty. She turned her head and looked in the other direction. There was no one. Suddenly the elevator dinged and the doors began to close. Marianne resumed her place in the back corner of the elevator and waited for the car to move, but she was not alone.
“Hello Marianne,” a voice said. It had a thick French accent. She turned her head to the right and she felt her body freeze. Standing there, next to her, was the little man in the black beret, Andre Solosovic.
“How did you…” she stuttered.
“How did I what? How did I get on the elevator without you seeing me?” He laughed, deep and hard. Probably fucking floated or materialized here, you evil fucking bastard. “You know, I thought it rather peculiar to see you looking down the hall when I came for the elevator and when you turned your head to look the other way, I stepped on.” Marianne felt as if her eyeballs were about to pop out of her head. She had read somewhere that when a person is scared that their eyeballs really do protrude out of their skull. Fear, no, terror will do that to a person.
The elevator suddenly stopped and the lights dimmed. The little man in the black beret looked at her, his eyes suddenly blazing with red fire. His hand reached toward her, and she screamed. The elevator walls fell away around her, and she felt as if she were floating. She closed her eyes as her head began to spin. She opened them shortly after when it seemed that she had stopped. She found herself in the same room as always, surrounded by the same people in her dreams. She looked frantically around for Michael, but there was no sign of him. She did however, catch sight of Solosovic, and she charged at him.
“Where the hell am I and what have you done with my Michael?!” she demanded. Solosovic merely smiled.
“You are in the great hall of the dead, my dear. And your Michael is being judged as we speak.
“Judged? What the hell are you talking about?”
Solosovic laughed. “Patience my dear. You will see soon enough.” Behind him, two great gold doors appeared. Marianne’s eyes opened wide. She had never seen these doors before. Solosovic stepped to one side and the doors opened slowly.
Michael was being led from the room in shackles, his head lowered. He looked ashen, drained, not like how she knew him. “Michael!” she screamed. He looked up, briefly. Marianne’s hopes lifted just a little. She ran toward him, but the guards that we escorting him stepped in her way.
“He has been judged, there is nothing you can do.”
“Where are you taking him?” she demanded.