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  Clay surveyed the party, which was winding down. Some couples were making out on the couches; many had left to go to the next party. Carolyn was deeply involved in a conversation with a few of her devout sorority clones. While Carolyn’s grave expression gave the impression of a serious discussion one would have concerning world politics, Clay knew she was probably talking about the benefits of waxing over shaving.

  He noticed Carolyn glance worriedly in his direction, and he managed a lazy smile so she wouldn’t feel obligated to come over.

  Leigh, Leigh, Leigh. What did I do? I messed up. The only person he ever truly cared about and he had humiliated her in front of everyone. Besides her spunk, Leigh was smart. Especially in the ways that counted. She always knew what to do in any situation—saw straight through the B.S., did the right thing, and never cared a hoot what anybody thought.

  He, on the other hand, rarely felt brave enough to do what he wanted. Sure, he pretended to be confident, but he knew he was faking it. He didn’t feel like a leader—rather, whatever people thought he should do was what he did. To stadiums full of fans, he was a hero. To his teammates, he was the leader. But nobody would’ve guessed he didn’t feel like a star—more like a freaking puppet. Like every action he did was determined in advance by other people. His parents. Coach. His team. He felt like he had no control over deciding what he alone wanted. He hoped Leigh would forgive him for embarrassing her like that in front of everybody—but could understand if she never spoke to him again.

  A chill sped through his back. He could easily face down giants who tackled him on the field, but the idea of losing Leigh terrified him. Why would she ever want to stick around him? He knew she was too good for him and he felt he didn’t deserve her friendship, let alone her love.

  He saw Carolyn look at him again, so Clay got up and ambled out of the room. He had to find something stronger to drown out his thoughts. They were so, so loud.

  Clay found his keys and headed to his Jeep. Forget these relationships, he thought. I need to get out of here. He headed out the door.

  Carolyn came out after him. “Where are you going, Claybear?”

  At first Clay thought he wanted to go home, but he changed his mind. “I’m going to let off some steam in the park.” It was where he would go when he wanted to think. Where Leigh went for the same reason.

  “Fun! I’m coming!” Carolyn said. “Just a sec and I’ll bring more drinks.”

  They sped off into the night.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Goldie opened her eyes. What a crazy dream, she thought. I’ve got to cut back on that fasting diet. She used to only dream about that mysterious guy in the white suit—but now she dreamed that she got killed on her wedding night.

  “Avner?” she called out. She sat up and observed her surroundings; a white bedspread covered her, on a bed in a room that seemed to gently move with the speed of the blowing wind. She put her feet on the floor, and it felt moist and light—as if she was stepping on a cloud. “Mindy?”

  When nobody answered, Goldie walked to the door. She opened the door and it was full of a light so blinding that she quickly shut it. “Daddy? Hello?”

  “Goldie, I’ve been waiting so long to see you.”

  She turned her head and thought she would drop dead from the shock of seeing Judy.

  Her mom looked like Goldie—same small nose, green eyes, and petite figure—though she had light hair and was dressed in a white robe.

  “Oh. My. God,” Goldie said. “It’s happened.”

  “Yes, sweetheart,” her mother murmured and drew her in for a hug.

  “I’m in the loony bin. I knew it. I knew that’s what would happen if I spent too much time on the wedding details instead of the business. Avner did say so, but did I listen? Of course not.”

  “Goldie, you’re not crazy. It’s me, your mother,” she said and stepped back so Goldie could take a closer look.

  Goldie appraised her mother. She seemed to be there, and yet didn’t seem solid at all—more like a mist. “Mama, darling, you died when I was twelve,” Goldie said finally.

  Goldie’s mother nodded. “Right,” she said softly.

  Goldie laughed. “I’m still dreaming. Did someone slip something in my drink?”

  Judy shook her head no. “Goldie, you need to accept what’s happened.”

  Goldie rolled her eyes. “Accept what? That you died and left me to take care of your family?”

  “Goldie, I’m so sorry that happened, I never meant—”

  Goldie waved her hand. “Meant, shmeant. You left.”

  “I didn’t want to.”

  “Then why did you let yourself get sick? Huh? Who in their right mind lets themselves be a schmatte like you . . . my God, how old were you when you died? In your thirties?”

  “I—”

  “God!” Goldie exhaled. “You didn’t take care of your health, you didn’t exercise, you didn’t even eat right, and you expected to live to see me on my wedding day?”

  Judy started to cry. “I did the best I could.”

  “Obviously not good enough,” Goldie snorted. “I’m so done with this insanity or dream or whatever this is. I’d like to wake up now. Hello . . . ”

  Judy stood beside her. “Goldie, you are awake,” she said softly.

  “Mindy! Daddy, Avner! Hello, where is everyone?”

  “Goldie, it’s no use. They can’t hear you.”

  Goldie’s eyes narrowed at her mother. “What did you do to them?”

  “I didn’t do anything. They can’t hear you beyond the curtain, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t call me sweetheart! Get out of my dream now and go back to heaven.”

  “I am in heaven.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense. How could you be in heaven and be talking to me?”

  “Goldie, sweetheart, you’re also in heaven now. Well, technically, the stop before heaven.”

  Goldie threw her head back. “Mama, how could I be in heaven if I’m alive?”

  “Because you’re dead, sweetie. You died a few minutes ago, on your wedding night.”

  “I’m not listening to this nonsense.” Goldie ran to the door and pounded on it. “Daddy! Take me away from this crazy woman!”

  Judy appeared right in front of her. “You’ll get used to it. It’s nice here, in heaven. No pain, no suffering, and when you are ready, you join the Light.”

  Goldie shoved the door open and was blinded by the light beyond. She tried to push herself through it, but it was too bright.

  “You’re not ready yet, Goldie. You need to detox before you join the Light,” her mother said.

  “I don’t want to hear from you,” Goldie said. “You practically left me an orphan. You almost ruined my life, but by the grace of God did not—Do you know how it felt to be that kid in camp who nobody ever came to see on visiting day? Or what it was like trying to figure out how to be a woman when there was nobody to show me? I want to go home. Now.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I have a wedding to finish.”

  Judy shook her head. “That’s not possible, sweetie. You’ll love the Light, it’s better than anything you can imagine.”

  “Like I should trust you?” Goldie shook her head. “I have to get back to Avner. They’re waiting for me.”

  “I’ll take you to see them,” her mother said, “but you need to understand—they won’t be able to see you.”

  Goldie sat down on the bed. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Mama.”

  Judy stood quietly. “This is a lot to absorb, I understand. I’ll be back soon after this has sunk in,” she said, and instantly disappeared.

  “Good!” Goldie yelled at the space where she had stood. “You should leave! That’s your specialty!”

  She looked around the room and noticed a small window above the bed, where she hadn’t seen one before. She stood on top of the bed and peered through the window, which opened into a dark, shallow tunnel. She saw the figure of a youn
g man on the other side. She pushed open the window to reach him but he seemed to be resting. “Hey, are you also dreaming?” she whispered to the guy.

  When he didn’t answer, she crawled into the tunnel and grabbed the boy, pulling him out into her room.

  “God! You reek like alcohol,” she said as she dropped him on her bed. He was cute, looked to be about her age, was tall with sandy blond hair, and had a trim yet muscular build.

  When he didn’t answer, she pinched his arm, hard. “Get up! I’m sick of everybody around me weirding out, okay?”

  The boy groaned, even though he seemed too out of it to budge.

  “Would you get up? I can’t take this craziness!”

  The boy’s eyes fluttered open. “Where am I?” he mumbled. “And who are you? I’m Clay.”

  Goldie, lost in her own thoughts, continued to think out loud. “I’m having a really weird dream. That’s what happens when you go organic. I knew I shouldn’t have tried that diet for the wedding but the salesman insisted the pills were ‘natural.’ I think he must’ve put in opium or ground-up shoes or some—”

  Clay interrupted Goldie’s diatribe. “Pardon me, but if this is your dream, why am I in it?”

  “How would I know?”

  “You seem like you have an answer for everything.”

  Goldie smiled. “I usually do, thank you very much, but this experience is just beyond even what I know. However I am an expert in fashion, media, and home decor so if you—”

  Clay interrupted. “It makes no sense that we would we be in each other’s dreams.”

  “So what?” Goldie sighed. “Do I look like somebody who knows the secrets of the universe?”

  Clay shook his head. “I suppose not.” He carefully observed his surroundings. “Though maybe it isn’t a dream? I mean, maybe we’re dead?”

  Goldie laughed. “Nonsense. I’m about to get married. So this must be a dream.” His words bounced through her head and she suddenly felt anxious. Could they possibly be dead? She clutched his hand. “What were you up to before this?”

  Clay shrugged. “A football game. A party. Drinking . . . ”

  “Oh, good.” Goldie smiled. “So you’re probably just in an alcohol-fueled slumber. I read about that in Actors Inc. magazine—it’s a scientific fact that heavy drinking does that to people.”

  “Huh? I never heard that drinking leads to dreaming about rooms in heaven.”

  “Well, you should get more educated,” Goldie said. “That magazine is very forward-thinking.”

  Clay shook his head. “You get your news from a magazine about actors?”

  Goldie sighed and spoke slowly to Clay as if he was a young child. “Not just stars. It is a magazine about the industry. And they wouldn’t print it if it weren’t true. There are laws about that, you know. Fifth Amendment and all that.”

  He shook his head. “This whole experience is crazy. What if it isn’t a dream?”

  “You can think what you want, Mr. Heavy Drinker, but I am so not dead.”

  Clay stared at the girl in the tattered wedding dress. “How do you know that?”

  Goldie shrugged. “Because if we are . . . then where is everybody else?”

  He paused. “I’m not sure. Maybe we can’t join them yet?”

  “My mom said—”

  “Your mom is here, too?”

  “She died years ago. She said I needed to detox. You know what that means?”

  “In this context?” Clay shook his head. “No idea. But I think we just might be dead.”

  Goldie pursed her lips. “If—and that’s a big ‘if’—we are by some God-awful chance dead, and I’m not saying that we are, then where do we go from here? Heaven for me. I think.” Goldie paused as she summarized her life. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t have been so difficult with—maybe hell? Wait. Do you know how they decide? I mean are we grouped by the same life choices or . . . how does this work? Were you good or bad?”

  The boy let out a moan. “Bad. Real awful.”

  “Like ‘Thou Shalt Not’ bad or more like ‘parking in a handicapped zone when there are like six empty handicapped spots, because you’re just not in the mood to walk through the parking lot’ bad?”

  The boy sat up and stared at Goldie. “I caused my brother to slip up and ruin his football career, I’ve been leading on my girlfriend, and I humiliated my best friend. I’m a big fraud and I think a police car was chasing me last night though I can’t remember why. I think my friend Leigh was pumping my chest or something.”

  “You think so?”

  “I was smashed. Don’t really know what happened.”

  “Oh,” Goldie said. “That’s bad. Yep, we’re in hell.”

  “Ugh, that’s terrible.” Clay sighed. “I suppose we’re in this together. Anyway, who are you?”

  Goldie ran her fingers through her hair. “Goldie Fischer, how do you do? I wish we could be meeting under better circumstances—”

  “What are you in for?”

  “I have no idea. Really. Can’t say I was the nicest person alive, but I did what I had to do. Anyway, I’m still not convinced we’re dead.”

  “I hear you.” Clay nodded and looked around the room. “On second thought, it’s kind of nice here—are you sure we’re in hell?”

  Goldie stood up and shook her head. “I’m not sure about anything, I just got here recently myself, Mr., uh . . . ?”

  “Harper—Clayton Harper from Atlanta, Georgia.”

  “The South? How nice. So what do you do outside of New York? Are you a farmer?”

  Clay blanched. “Okay, this must be hell.”

  “Why? I’ve watched re-runs of Dukes of Hazard. And I’ve sat through The Walking Dead with my dad. I can do all those accents like so cool. Especially the Southern zombies. Do you want to hear me try?”

  “God, no,” he said and stared at Goldie. “I hope I don’t have to spend eternity with you—that would be terrifying.”

  Just then Goldie’s mother reappeared. “They say it’s time to go, Goldie.”

  Clay’s eyes widened. “Will anyone be coming for me?” he asked.

  Judy stared at him, a quizzical expression on her face. “I’ll have to look into that,” she said.

  Goldie tapped her foot impatiently, clearly bored. “Where do ‘they’ want us to go?”

  Judy shrugged. “To see the loved ones left behind.”

  “And then?”

  “The tribunal.”

  When Goldie gave her a blank stare, Judy explained. “You’ll be judged there, sweetie. It’s different for everybody. The choices you made below affect what happens to you for eternity. The tribunal will decide whether you will get placed in heaven or hell.”

  Clay shook his head. “Even here you got to worry about where you rank?”

  Goldie sighed. “Uh huh, right. Okay, let’s do this crazy dream,” she said, and felt herself fall through the sky and into her living room on Long Island.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Goldie noticed at once that all the mirrors in the house were covered. Could this be true? She suddenly panicked. She knew that, traditionally, mirrors in the home of the newly dead were covered for the first week, so that the visiting soul wouldn’t feel the pain of not seeing themselves in the mirror. She couldn’t imagine any other reason Mindy would’ve had their mirrors covered with sheets.

  Oh, no. Goldie was filled with dread.

  She walked through the kitchen where she saw boxes of cake on the table and bit her lip when she saw the packaging on two cakes were from Goldstein’s Bakery. Her family only ordered from Chantilly so somebody else must’ve brought the tasteless babka cakes that graced her kitchen table. She knew there were only a number of reasons someone would bring them a cake. Like an engagement party . . . a new baby . . . or a death—

  “I can’t believe she’s gone,” Mindy cried. Goldie watched as Mindy sat beside their father and Avner on low stools in their living room. Neighbors came by to pay their respects by visiting Gold
ie’s family, sitting back and giving them time and space to talk, and responding only when spoken to, as was their custom for comforting mourners.

  Avner shook his head and turned to Mindy’s dad. “I don’t know, Allen, do you think it was something I said?”

  Goldie stared at Avner. “Huh? What did you say? I ran away from dogs and have been having crazy dreams about a guy in a white suit, a football player, and Mom.”

  Allen shrugged. “Maybe I should’ve given her more attention?”

  “Daddy, please!” Goldie pooh-poohed her father’s suggestion. “Of course you always gave me enough attention.”

  Mindy sighed. “I can’t imagine what she was thinking!”

  “Mindy? I always told you what I was thinking! You always said I had no filter. Why are you all ignoring me? Hello?”

  Mindy stared straight through Goldie toward Avner. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  Goldie swallowed and tried to hold back her tears. “Mindy, why are you talking to me like I’m dead?”

  Goldie’s mom appeared beside her. “Because you are, Goldie. I’m sorry. I tried to tell you.”

  “No!” Goldie yelled.

  Judy gently held Goldie’s shoulders. “It gets easier if you accept it. Just go along with it.”

  Goldie stared at her mother, her eyes fiery with anger. “Like you did? Accept your weakness, your illness . . . your death? You’re a coward, Mom. You always were. Leaving us to fend for ourselves because you accepted your fate.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” Judy said, and shook her head. “But you must accept your limitations. This is the way of the universe.”

  “I won’t.” Goldie watched her father holding onto a photo of her and he looked completely lost. “I will never accept fate. I will fight for what I want every minute of every day.” Avner seemed rudderless and her little sister sat beside them, softly crying on a stool. “They need me. I have to help them.”

  “You can’t.” Judy placed her hand on Goldie’s shoulder. “You must come with me.”