Tricking Death

Chapter 14 - A Private Meeting

I was practically a zombie the next day when I finally gave up on trying to sleep. Like so many other things, Death had robbed me of the ability to fall asleep last night. My body had been tingling ever since he left the room and I could still feel the ghost of his lips on mine. I couldn't tell whether it was a welcome or unwelcome sensation, just because of how much more complicated things had gotten in such a short time.

Coffee seemed like the only viable option, so I staggered to the kitchen and started making a pot. I was silently hoping that no one would come to join me just yet, because I didn't think that I was capable of dealing with other human beings at the moment. I knew that it wasn't technically the fault of anyone around me, but I felt like I would snap at whoever tried to get close to me no matter what they did. 

As usual, Lady Luck wasn't with me: my mom - probably driven by the smell of coffee brewing - drifted in while she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She seemed to have reached a point where coffee was no longer reserved for times of severe stress, or she was simply so stressed out all the time that it was now acceptable for her to be drinking it regularly. 

"You're up early."

I managed a noncommittal grunt in response.

"Mind pouring me a cup of that once it's done? Black is fine." 

I shoved a mug in her face, and after taking a quick sip, she changed her mind about taking it black. 

"Why did you make it so strong, Emily? Jeez," she coughed a little, setting down her mug to grab some cream and sugar. 

"If I have any hope in hell of making it through this day, I need it that strong," I grumbled, nursing my own cup while glaring at the countertop. I almost wished that  I could melt things with my eyes, as it would make things so much easier: one quick glare directed at Death, and then all of my problems would have been solved. But of course, life can never be that easy. 

"You could always go back to bed, you know," my mom piped up, her coffee now at a drinkable level of bitter. 

"I've had enough of staring at my ceiling for now, but thanks anyway." 

"Do I smell coffee?" A shuffling came from down the hallway, and then Jean was standing in the kitchen with us, wearing her ridiculous fluffy pink slippers and looking just as tired as the rest of us. As she poured herself a large mug, I couldn't help but groan as I saw just how little was left in the pot. I knew I was going to need more than one cup, but apparently that wasn't going to happen with the number of people I had to split it with. 

"You're going to want to load that up with cream and sugar, Jean," my mom warned. "It's strong." 

"Oh, I'll be fine!" My aunt, being the strange woman she was, managed to take an entire swig without so much as a twitch passing over her face. Even I had to grudgingly admit that I was impressed. 

"You, however, are going to want to be watching where you're walking today, Janet. On stairs especially." 

"Another one of those days for me, is it?" 

"Yup. Finally got my vision back, and just in time to watch you go tumbling head-first down a flight of stairs because you weren't paying attention!" She was fighting back laughter as she spoke, removing any kind of concerned tone that the statement might have originally held. 

My mom shook her head as she put her empty mug in the sink. "Sometimes, I wonder if you enjoy watching others hurt themselves, Jean." 

"Only when they're funny like yours was! Your arms were windmilling and everything!" I couldn't help smiling a little bit at the gestures she was making to get her point across about the hilarity of that morning's vision. And for a brief moment, I almost wished that I could switch powers with her.