Page 45 of The Reluctant Reaper
“‘Let her go.’ ‘Don’t take her aunt.’ ‘Don’t take her daughter.’”
“Oh.”
* * *
Amara giggled, then clapped a hand over her mouth so Daddy wouldn’t hear. He’d been so busy lately, no time for herat all, but that was okay, she was a big kid now, second grade next year, and big kids had to do that thing Mommy talked about, that opp thing, they had to...
Make your own opportunities, my darling.
...be brave and clever and shewasbrave and clever and someday she’d be the boss of everybody like her daddy but for now she was still small.
So she snuck into the back of Daddy’s car, way down under the blankets from the Fourth of July picnic andurghit was hot but she didn’t care because Daddy worked sooooo much and she wanted to help and shewouldhelp. His job was too big for one person. Mommy said. Better yet, Skye said!
And now shhhhh, the car was slowing and stopping, and when she heard the door slam she waited a few seconds and then peeked over the seat and they were in Robinsdale Trailer Park where Jenny lived and it had that awesome playground but no time for that, because Daddy was going into one of the fancy trailers, the wide fat ones that almost looked like real houses and she waited until the door closed and then waited a little more and finally scooted out from beneath the blanket and slipped out of the back seat and didn’t slam the door and ran quietly and it was hard to run quietly but she did and the screen door was closed but hopefully unlocked and she heard screaming and froze and froze and unfroze because she had to help so she...
She...
She went in.
And Daddy was there and a pretty blond lady she didn’t know was on her knees in front of him—did she fall? Was it a game?
“Don’t!” the lady cried, because it wasn’t a game. “Please, you can’t,” she said, and she was crying hard, so so hard. And Daddy was just standing there looking sad and she said, “It can’t be my time yet!” and “It’s a mistake, please.”
And Daddy saw Amara standing by the door and his red eyes were wet and he shook his head and the pretty lady was scrabbling on the carpet in front of him and then she grabbed his belt and said-shouted-screamed, “Please, I’ll do anything. Take my mother. She’s old, she can—or my aunt, my God, that bitch has been smoking for thirty years and it'smytime? How is that possible?” And now the pretty lady was crying but she was mad-crying, like Mommy did when Amara broke her crystal swans. “How can it be my time? Take... anyone. Just not me. It doesn’t have to be me, don’t you understand?”
“I’m very sorry,” Daddy said in his terrible-deep-sad voice.
“My daughter! She’s with my ex-husband most of the time, I almost never see her, it’s like she really isn’t my kid anymore, and I can—I can have another one! Just not me. Just?—”
And then she stopped talking. And crying. And everything.
* * *
“Jesus Christ.”
“She offered up everyone she loved in a selfish scrabble for more time. I dreamed about her for years. Still do, apparently. And here’s the thing: I couldn’t blame her. I don’t think you would have, either, for all you endured in your childhood. She was just so... despairing. It was the worst side of her, and I like to think that when she wasn’t about to die, she was a good person. A caring mother and daughter and niece.”
“Sure, that tracks.”
“But I didn’t see any of that in the trailer. Neither did my father. And after that day, no one else did, either. And that’s what my family does. That’s what we are. We bring out the worst in humanity. And it’s my job, now.”
“First, that’s not what you do, and second, it’s a temp job. And you’ve had a million of those.”
“A sizable false equivalence. And it’ll be a full-time gig soon enough. I’ll be the one to Reap away everything a person is, and leave nothing behind.”
“That’s not true! Amara, I love you, but you don’t always pay attention.”
“... Thanks?”
“Look how happy your old music teacher—Agatha—was to see you. Y’know, under all the bitchiness. She knew what you won’t face: that what you do—that what your dad does—is good and necessary. You helped her!”
“Will you sleep in my room tonight?”
If the abrupt question surprised him, Gray didn’t let on. “Of course.”
“Okay. I love you. Thanks for listening.”
“Love you, too, Death Lite.”
