WATTYS 2023 SHORTLIST
Cara, a troubled college dropout, finds herself slowly falling for a handsome stranger - who turns out to be Death incarnate. But the arrival of a mysterious being puts Death's home for lost souls and his very existence at risk...
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I wonder what Gary must think of me as I roll my overburdened cart up to the register. But even if he thinks I must be losing my mind or suffering from an awful shopping addiction, he simply smiles as he rings up the wi-fi router, tablet, and tower of paint cans and brushes. I smile back at him, demure.
"How are you doing, dear? Still enjoying Neverton, I hope?"
"I am, thank you," I tell him, and I find that it's quite true. It turns out that the Death Day party this morning had greatly lifted my spirits, and the hope of placating Sarah with internet access makes the thought of returning to Death's mansion a lot less anxiety inducing. Strange as they are, it's easy to feel swept up in the odd camaraderie of Death's residents. Just before I left, Paul nearly talked my ear off about his grand business plan and the new office he'd be acquiring after his promotion. I'd just nodded my head and smiled until I could slip out the front door.
"A little birdy told me that you're helping with the Halloween Festival this year!" Gary's eyes twinkled, and for a second I wanted to ask him if he'd ever thought about dressing up as Santa Claus around Christmas time.
"You heard correctly." Which reminds me: I'd promised Mem that I would meet up with her at the Nest today to create flyers and digital promotional materials. She was kind enough to drop me off here first, and to promise me lunch when we reconvened. "It should be fun, huh?"
"Oh, the festival is spectacular every year. There really is something magical about it. You can feel it in the air." Gary laughed and motioned to the paper mache decorations plastered across his window displays. "Every year, my grandchildren come all the way to Neverton to see it."
"Aww, that's so fun," I say, my heart nearly bursting because of how pure Gary is. A true cinnamon roll, in the flesh. "Where do they live?"
"California. The west coast. Can you believe it?" Gary chuckles under his breath and shakes his head. "It's too dry, too fast out there for an old man like me. But I look forward to their visit every year. Halloween is my favorite holiday for that reason."
For a moment, I think about my own extended family. My father's parents passed away years ago, when I was younger. I never really got to know them, other than hearing the stories about how they immigrated to New York and opened my family's restaurant. No one ever spoke about them without at least a hint of fondness and pride in their voice.
But when my mother passed away, her family got ... weird. Distant. We were relatively close in the years beforehand, which made it all the more painful when they shut us out. It was like they wanted to erase everything that would remind them of her, including my father and me.
Before I can think better of it, I mumble, "I wish I could visit my family." Gary falls silent for a moment, his hands halting in the middle of loading up the final can of paint.
"Why can't you, dear?" He asks.
"I..." The words are lodged in my throat. I can't speak. I can't breathe. Say something. Something true. "I just can't."
