“What about my African violets, my jade plants, my burro’s tails? Are they all dead too?” she asked when she saw me.
The look on my face gave her the answers.
“Shame! They would’ve thrived here,” she said, looking around us in the glowing red of the caves, caught between Hell and Heaven. It was hot and humid and crowded with scared, whimpering souls.
“This is why you kept killing my plants: because you had no children, no one to care for or give your things to, no memories left,” she croaked, for the nth time.
“Oh, for God’s sake, we are both dead. Can’t you let go?” My eyes were so dry with all the eyerolling I kept squinting at the ghostly shadows on the rocks, my throat parched with all the arguing. “And why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be—in another place?”
Ah Ma’d been dead for decades.
“If I let go, nothing will ever get done! See?” she said and shoved two fast-track passes to Heaven in my face, stamped with the three claws of the Devil himself.
“How did you—”
“And I was waiting for you, ungrateful child!” she snarled. “Your Ba, he didn’t wait. He’s enjoying his sweet time in Heaven.”
Satan’s helpers stomped in and pushed us out of Purgatory.
“Jesus, get out of here, you two are driving everybody nuts, arguing about the same shit over and over again. We can’t deal with this crap for eternity!”
