Xmas Spirit (20 page)

Holiday Burnout

A relationship can be like a Christmas candle, shining brightly but only for a short while. It is often the case that the bigger the flame, the smaller we grow, giving unselfishly until we practically disappear. The appeal of losing ourselves in the warm glow of another is a powerful thing, but from the fire of even the greatest love ultimately comes ashes. It is up to each one of us to decide if it is better to burn out or just fade away.

As the casket rolled
across the street toward the cemetery, Charlotte fancied herself some kind of ancient royal being transported on a funeral bier to her place of final rest. A catacomb beneath some eternal city? A pyramid rising high above the desert sands? Who could say? It was her fantasy, after all, and now that she was alive again, she’d come to believe that anything was possible, so she let her mind wander. It was all so romantic. All eyes on her. All hearts feeling for her. This was new territory. She may have died before, but she had no recollection of being buried. Good thing, too, she figured.

It might have all been just some silly stunt to sell coffins and make some extra pocket change, but there was still a solemnity to it, Charlotte thought. The silence inside her casket broken only by strains of “Silent Night” filling the air, sung reverently by the crowd behind her, walking in solidarity, candles flickering. She could hear and see almost everything going on around her, totally in the thick of it, but she was nevertheless curiously removed from it. The falling snowflakes seemed to pick up speed as they crashed onto the coffin lid and splattered like flies on a windshield. Death was everywhere, even for snowflakes.

The procession concluded at the grave, which had been pre-dug, just as Wormsmoth said, snow-covered mounds of earth piled high very near the sides. The first face she saw was Damen’s. He seemed distressed but still managed to give her a little
Don’t worry
smile. Wormsmoth knocked on the lid and then opened it, helping Charlotte to a seated position. The crowd again applauded its encouragement, and Charlotte waved back at them, taking it all in. The approval. The acceptance.

There was just one more piece of paperwork that Wormsmoth, salesman that he was, had kept back until the very end. He removed a document, folded in three, from his inner breast pocket and offered it to Charlotte.

“Just sign this waiver and we can begin,” he said. “I need to protect myself, you understand.”

The Wendys also took advantage of the break in the action and approached Charlotte and Wormsmoth as well. “Before we begin, we’d like to conduct a brief exit interview.”

“Exit? Where am I going?”

“Well, you never know. It’s just protocol,” Wendy T. advised.

“On a scale of one to ten, rate your experience with this transaction.”

Charlotte actually began to give it some thought when Wendy A. interrupted.

“Ten. Good. Now . . .”

Scarlet was fuming as The Wendys handed over some additional paperwork for Charlotte to sign.

“This is a document that expressly relieves Wendy Thomas and myself from any and all legal liability with regard to this endeavor now and in the future and furthermore states that you are participating in this evening’s festivities voluntarily and of your own free will.”

Charlotte looked it over quickly.

“Got a pen?”

The Wendys handed one over and smiled as Charlotte signed. Then they turned to the undertaker.

“Uh-hum,” Wendy Thomas said, clearing her throat and opening her palm.

“Money in advance.”

“Burial first, then money,” Mr. Wormsmoth advised, signaling Damen to proceed.

“She’d better not screw this up,” Petula warned.

“Now, miss, you may still opt out,” Wormsmoth said compassionately.

“There will be no opting out,” Petula growled. “Let’s get moving. The mall closes in two hours.”

Scarlet glared at them and turned to Charlotte, the concern rising in her voice.

“Are you sure, Charlotte?”

“What did you call me?”

“Charlotte?” Scarlet responded tentatively. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

Something about hearing her name come from Scarlet’s lips shook her deeply. Like an affirmation or a mantra, it resonated through her entire body and her soul. She found herself struck by a sudden melancholy. Once upon a time, she
was
Charlotte and through some sort of supernatural intervention she was again. The same old Charlotte. But not exactly. She struggled like an amnesia victim with split personality disorder to confirm her identity for Scarlet.

“Yes, it is.”

“She’s sure,” Petula insisted, pushing her sister out of the way and reaching for the coffin lid to close it. “Can we please move this along?”

Scarlet was ready to pounce on Petula, but Charlotte
intervened.

“It’s okay,” Charlotte assured her, touching her arm gently. “I just have one final request.”

“What’s that?” Petula asked impatiently.

“Group photo?”

Petula rolled her eyes and agreed, pulling The Wendys toward her and behind the casket, with Charlotte seated right in the middle. Damen and Scarlet joined them, standing side by side.

“Say cheese,” Wormsmoth said, holding his finger up in the air to create a focal point for them.

“That won’t be difficult,” Petula mumbled, willing to do anything to get this over with.

Everyone put on their biggest smile, even Scarlet, whose beautiful grin hadn’t been visible in a photograph since preschool.

“Immortalized,” Charlotte whispered.

For her, this whole thing was not about money anymore, if it ever really was. The flash blinded Charlotte for a second, and as she rubbed at her eyes, she could have sworn she saw a familiar face standing in the distance but quickly decided it was either a figment of her imagination or a damaged retina.

“Alrighty then,” Mr. Wormsmoth said, signaling Damen to tether the casket to the winch.

Damen hit the switch, and the cable tightened, lifting the casket from the carriage into the air. He pressed all the right levers and slowly guided it over the hole, where it remained suspended for a moment. Charlotte looked up at the falling snow and around at the headstones and was filled neither with joy nor fear, but with sadness. Like seeds planted in fertile soil, the otherworldly warnings from Virginia, Prue, and Pam began to sprout in her consciousness. She closed her eyes, trying to chase away the thoughts of her visitors from the Great Beyond. Charlotte felt a slight jerk as she began to descend.

As Damen lowered her down slowly, Charlotte opened her eyes and struggled to stay connected to the present by meeting Damen’s eyes through the snow-flecked coffin lid. He did likewise, trying his hardest to maintain a steady speed and bearing, staying entirely focused on his task even as his hands were freezing and his boots were skidding slightly out from under him.

“I see you,” he whispered, encouraging himself. “I see you.”

Charlotte waited with satisfaction as she went deeper and
deeper. This was it, her dream come true. All eyes on her. Damen, Petula, and The Wendys. Scarlet. Charlotte’s whole body began to tingle, and her attention was momentarily diverted from Damen’s face to the space beside him, where a lone figure appeared. His hair piled high, stance wide, guitar in hand, singing. She saw his face. It was a face she loved. And then she knew.

It was Eric.

Charlotte smiled, transfixed in his gaze, and Eric smiled back. He let go of his guitar. Let it hang from around him as he opened his arms wide.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Come back. I love you.”

A sudden gasp came from the crowd so loud that even Charlotte could hear it.

“Holy crap,” Damen shouted as he felt the winch lever inexplicably move forward. “I can’t stop it!”

The coffin slipped perilously out of control and headed directly for the bottom of the grave. The casket crash-landed, and Charlotte did just what she was warned against doing. She slowly reached for the emergency lever and pulled it with all her might, popping the lid and causing a ton of dirt and snow to collapse onto her.

A premature burial.

“Oh my God,” Scarlet shouted, rushing to the hole. “Charlotte!”

Damen was already kneeling in the collapsed grave and digging frantically. Scarlet threw herself down and started digging beside him. The Wendys and Petula checked their manicures and balked.

“Let’s leave this to the professionals,” Petula advised.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Damen said.

Scarlet reached for his cold, dirty hand and grasped it, bringing some warmth to him and to the cold, dead scene.

They dug and they dug, finally reaching her. Together, they pulled Charlotte from the grave and placed her on the newly fallen snow. She was pale, her pulse faint, her breathing shallow.

“Are you okay?” Scarlet asked desperately, tears streaming from her eyes.

Charlotte felt the warm tears from her friend mingle with the cold snowflakes, filling her with joy even as the life was leaving her. Her eyes locked on Scarlet’s, and Scarlet held her hand and wiped the earth from her face.

“She looks so peaceful,” Scarlet said to Damen through her tears. “Beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Wendy A. said. “They aren’t kidding about that makeup.”

“Will somebody call an ambulance?” Scarlet begged, angry at The Wendys and Petula for just standing around in the face of such dire circumstances.

Mr. Wormsmoth was already on the phone to emergency services, having dropped the contract to the ground in his haste.

“Somebody call a lawyer!” Petula sniped at The Wendys as she read over the document with Charlotte’s signature.

“Why?” Wendy A. said.

“You two idiots had her sign the contract in invisible ink!”

“It doesn’t matter; we still get paid, right?” Wendy A. asked.

“No contract, no money,” said Wormsmoth, tearing up the document in their faces.

“And no present for me either!” Petula moaned, stomping her foot.

Cameras started rolling as Petula and The Wendys broke down and fell to their knees over Charlotte, forming a circle of self-serving grief worthy of a Daytime Emmy nomination. A torrent of their tears deluged Charlotte as they cleared the dirt from her face. Charlotte gave them a final knowing smile and slowly faded away.

The ambulance finally arrived and Damen lifted Charlotte up gently, helping the EMTs lay her on the gurney. Scarlet watched them place Charlotte in the ambulance and looked down. At the place where she’d lain, the impression of her body was left like a snow angel, along with a beautiful box. Scarlet knelt down to pick it up. She lifted the lid and saw a tag with an item number and, to her amazement, her name on it. She put it gently in her coat pocket.

The Wendys and Petula were long gone, having mistaken the ambulance siren for the police.

“She pulled the lever,” Wormsmoth said, inspecting the coffin. “She did it on purpose.”

“What?” Scarlet said. “Why would she do that?”

“There are some things we’ll never know,” Damen said. He walked over to Scarlet, who was still kneeling in the snow beside Charlotte’s indentation, and knelt beside her. Grieving.

“Maybe,” she said softly.

Scarlet was just beginning to figure it. That she was
Charlotte’s someone special.

“Did you know her well?” Damen asked quietly.

“No,” Scarlet replied.

“I don’t know why,” he said, “but I wish I had.”

“Me too,” Scarlet agreed, wiping at her eyes and runny nose.

“Can I give you a ride?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said.

He helped her up, and she grabbed his arm as they walked together over the newly fallen snow. Damen opened the door for her and closed it as she slid into the passenger seat.

“Home?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “Can you take me to the pawnshop?”

Charlotte and Eric arrived hand in hand, unnoticed, just as the Great Beyond Christmas party was getting under way. The herald angels were chanting in the distance, their job almost done.

“It’s beautiful,” Charlotte said in awe at the joyful and brightly colored scene.

Eric was amazed to see how quickly things had returned to normal and proud of his role in making that happen. Most of all, he was proud to have his girlfriend back and on his arm.

“It’s Christmas,” she said.

“Now it is,” Eric said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Charlotte!” Virginia cheered.

All her Dead Ed friends rushed in for a hug.

“We missed you!” Mike roared.

They had so many questions but one in particular, given how close they’d almost come to oblivion.

“What was it like to die again?” Rita asked nervously.

“Cool, I’m sure,” Deadhead Jerry slurred.

“I bet it was scary,” Violet spoke up, shuddering.

“So nice, she got to die twice,” DJ rhymed.

“You know what they say,” Green Gary added, “the single greatest cause of death is life.”

Charlotte gave the question some thought. The first time was an accident. This time it was choice.

“It was”—Charlotte hesitated—“like starting over.”

“Don’t ever go away again!” Kim cried, hanging on to Charlotte for dear life.