Reading the Music

Misstress

I wipe my forehead and get up from bending over the car engine. I hear the clear sound of heels clicking on the cement. A beautiful woman, probably in her early  thirties, is walking towards me, looking all around the garage, taking everything in. I'm surprised to see someone dressed like that here.

"Good afternoon." I say. She looks right to me and smiles softly. It's a sweet look, and it seems to contradict the rest of her appearance.

"Oh," she pauses, " I don't know about a good afternoon, but it is the afternoon alright. 3:41 in the afternoon to be precise."

" You look wonderful miss, is there a special occasion? If your car is broken down and you need to get to a date or something soon, I can fix it up quite fast for you."

She looks down at her snug black dress and pulls it up at the top where the sleeves would normally be. Her hair is loose and flowing in dark brown curls.

"Thank you dear, but I don't need and auto repairs. I'm sorry to surprise you, I usually meet people in a less astonishing way, but this is kind of a special occasion."

I don't really understand, but she looks sad and I don't want to push her. She picks up a framed photo of my family and asks, "You love your family, don't you?"

"Yes," I say excitedly as I walk over to her. "My family is everything to me. That's my son, Sam, and my twins, Trinity and Taylor. And of course, my darling wife, Elena."

"They're lovely."

She sets down the picture and looks up at the wall and points to a picture Trinity gave to me last Father's Day almost a year ago. There is a picture of her holding my hand with the words, Thank you for everything you do, I couldn't live without you! I love you daddy!!

I smile fondly, looking back and realizing how much they have grown this past year. I hear a sniffle and look up in surprise to see the woman has tears in her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! You all just seem so happy!"

"We are. It's ok to cry. Come sit down."

I move to grab her arm but miss and feel a colder atmosphere around her. That's odd. I lead her to the sofa in the corner of the garage near the vending machine and coffee maker. She sits down and I make her a cup of coffee to warm up from, hand her a blanket, and sit down beside her. By then she isn't tearing up anymore, but she is still sniffling and I can tell she isn't feeling much better at all.

"Would you like to talk about it?" And with that she is suddenly sobbing like a leaking faucet. She buries herself in the blankets and I consider patting her shoulder when she looks up at me and begins to talk.

"I'm sorry," she wipes away a tear with the blanket. "It's just so hard!"

"What is, dear?"

"My job. It's a never ending job, I'm always on the go and it will never stop- I've been doing it forever! And all my clients!"

She bursts into tears again and I hand her the mug of freshly brewed coffee. She continues,

"I have so many clients, and I never get the chance to really meet them. There's all sorts of clients: young, old, male, female, animals even! I always get to know them just a bit. Just enough for me to feel bad for them. I'm not allowed to get to know my clients, and deep down inside I know it's a wise decision. But sometimes I see them more than once, like the sick children or suicidal. Those are the worst!"

"And why is that?" I reach up to pat her, nodding. I feel the cold and know that the blanket and hot drink did nothing. She leans away and continues,

"Because they don't deserve to see me! Rarely do people deserve to be my client. And it's the worst when they want to see you! No, they can't want to see me, they need to love life and make the best of it! Oh, but it's people like you that make me feel horrible too."

Me? What did I do? All I did was try to comfort her. And I don't see how anyone would not want to see her. She needs some self esteem classes, therapy or something.

"You never expect me, so you people are so kind. You gave me coffee, and I can't even drink it! And I'm so very sorry for crying, I've never done it in front of a client before, but you seem so happy!"

"It's okay, I don't mind at all. I have lots more coffee and you didn't put me behind schedule or anything like that."

I smile encouragingly but she doesn't seem to notice.

"Oh, but I am! I mind, and we are six minutes behind schedule!"

I hear a creaking sound and look up at the vehicle strung up above us, waiting to be worked on. The woman doesn't look up, but stares at me with such an intense look I'm scared I will burn up or freeze. There is another creak and I look back up at the small ford truck and notice it is moving side to side. The woman in the black dress keeps looking at me with tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I should go make sure that's actually stuck up there. I wouldn't want that falling on you or me."

I stand up, but she doesn't. I grab onto her shoulders to jerk her into reality, but my hands never touch her shoulders. I feel a sharp ice coldness on my hands and gasp. Suddenly an ear splitting screech fills the air and as I attempt to pull her to safety again, the ford drops on us.

I feel an immense pain, my head is on fire and I cough blood once, twice, and then the pain is suddenly taken away from me. I see a hand reaching for mine, it's the woman's. She is standing inside of the truck from the knee down, but she doesn't seem to think of it as a big deal at all. That's when I realize that I am also standing up inside the side of the car. I look down and see shattered window glass, dents, and a shoe attached to a body underneath the truck. I look at it and realize that it is my shoe, my body. I look to the woman to confirm my thoughts and she nods in understanding while smiling sadly. Her hand is still outstretched and I hesitate.

I grab hold of her hand and am surprised to find out that I can actually grab hold and it is not cold, but comfortingly warm.

"Clint Sydney Adams," She knowingly calls to me, "I am here to take you to the afterlife."