She had taken it during their vacation in Hawaii.
It was a quarter to nine, the rest of the office were due to arrive in fifteen minutes, and the bustle of the day would begin. Lucy had looked over almost the entire office, noting the familiar things, and surprised by the new things. In the hallway was a boastful, behemoth piece of equipment, what Lucy could only figure was a brand-new panoramic X-ray machine, top of the line. This certainly had not only a bell, Lucy thought, it had whistles, spotlights, and fireworks attached to it. It would have been fun to have been able to use it, she thought as she poked around the gargantuan piece of equipment that was now stationed just outside the door of the break room. Just by messing around near it, Lucy felt the pull of it and sensed the tingling in her hands that was the first sign of gathering power. That thing just must suck it in, she thought. I bet their electricity bills doubled. It’'s amazing what can happen in a year.
Lucy couldn’'t help but feel hurt as she rummaged through the break room cabinets. She told herself she had every right to feel that way; here she was, dead a year, and although her best friends hadn’'t gone as far as Martin to erase all traces of her, they didn’'t have even one thing around to remember her by. It was a stupid idea to come here, she realized. What did she think she was going to find? Did she really expect to see some shrine of herself in the lobby or a huge Lucy portrait in the break room?
While scanning the coffee mugs to see if her favorite was still there, Lucy laughed out loud when the thought crossed her mind that, at the very least, the guilt Dr. Meadows ought to have felt for firing a girl in the last hours of her life could have been expressed with something small, yet tasteful. A plaque with an impression of Lucy’'s upper and lower teeth etched onto it would have been a nice remembrance, or just a bronze-dipped suction tool with Lucy’'s name and dates of service engraved into it would have been a nice gesture.
But no, there was nothing except Lucy’'s favorite coffee mug, which she pulled out of the far back of the cabinet with the energy from the unexpected charge from the X-ray machine. The mug had a very light layer of dust on the bottom, as it had been placed that side up for apparently a lengthy period of time. It had a picture of Paul Bunyan and Babe, his blue ox, from one of the only times she’'d been able to talk Martin into stopping at a roadside attraction the year before last when they’'d driven up to the redwoods. She smiled when she thought of him scowling as she handed over the fifteen dollars for the overpriced mug, but Lucy had been living at the moment and had thought it would be a fond memory of their trip. Now it was the only hint in the whole office that Lucy had ever been there, and it was hiding deep in the back, gathering specks of age.
Just then Lucy had an idea. She put the mug on the counter, right side up, went back to Marianne’'s desk, and opened the cabinet she had seen Nola open on Lucy’'s last day in the office. If no one was going to have any kind of remembrance to Lucy, she decided to make one herself. She propped the picture of Marianne and Jilly in front of the mug, spelled her name on the counter using the brightly colored letters that Marianne stuck on the spine of every patient’'s file, and as a finishing touch, she slipped a drug test right into the mug, where it landed with a tiny clink!
Lucy smiled as she looked at her rather playful tongue-in-cheek hello. If some things had still remained the same, she knew that Jilly would be the first one to see her “"memorial”" when she went to make the coffee, as she did first thing every morning.
She heard Jilly and Marianne laughing as they entered the front door, their voices continuing to chatter as they moved through the office, Marianne stopping at her desk, then Jilly continuing on back to the break room.
Lucy could hear Jilly’'s soft, muffled footsteps approaching, hear her getting closer as she said, “"Morning, Nola,”" and passed the alcove, and then suddenly, there she was. Lucy’'s best friend. There was Jilly, walking right past Lucy, so close that she could reach out and touch her.
If Lucy had had any breath, she would have lost it. Seeing Jilly in the flesh was so overwhelming that it shocked her. Lucy had had so much happen, had been to so many extraordinary places and done so many things that all she wanted to do was run right up to her best friend since dental school and spill it all right out in front of her. Lucy realized that if there was one thing she really missed about living, it was the living. She wanted to throw her arms around Jilly and be the friend she used to be, and then, in the next second, she wanted to pull back and demand, What the hell, Jilly? Where were you? I was at my funeral. Why weren’'t you?
Jilly stopped at her cubby, placed her purse inside, threw her lunch bag into the fridge, and then turned around, moving toward the coffeemaker. Lucy had seen her do this a thousand times, rinsing out the pot, tearing open the foil packet, tossing the coffee pouch into the machine. Jilly then went back toward the cabinet that held the mugs, with Lucy’'s little hello directly beneath it on the counter.
Just then, Lucy heard some rustling, and there was a woman, older than either Lucy or Jilly, her gray hair pulled tightly back into a bun, her office scrubs flashes of teal, pink, and orange, some sort of abstract design. Obviously, Lucy’'s replacement.
“"Howdy, Jilly,”" the woman said with a smile.
“"Hey, Marcia,”" Jilly replied. “"Oh! I brought that book I told you about, the mystery about the Russian girl with the art gallery? It was fantastic. I read it in two days.”"
“"Great!”" Marcia replied as she opened the fridge door and set her lunch on the top shelf. “"Are we still on for Saturday night? I’'m making Warren’'s favorite—--Gooey Butter Cake!”"
“"He’'ll be thrilled. He loves your cake!”" Jilly laughed as she opened the cabinet and reached for a mug. “"He would have joined the Manson Family if they’'d baited him with a slice of—--”"
Lucy saw Jilly staring at the mug, her mouth dropped, her eyes unmoving.
Jilly pointed at the mug. “"Who did this?”" she questioned. “"Who did this?”"
Lucy at once realized what a terrible, horrible thing she had done. What she’'d meant as playful and goofy was not that at all. It was a bad memory, a hurtful reminder.
“"Marianne!”" Jilly called. “"Come back here!”"
Marcia stood there, not saying anything. Marianne made it to the break room in seconds.
“"Look at that,”" Jilly said, pointing to the shrine. “"Did you do that?”"
“"No,”" Marianne said, shaking her head, looking as in shock as Jilly did.
“"It’'s your picture,”" Jilly pointed out. “"Is this supposed to be funny?”"
“"I d-don’'t know,”" Marianne stumbled. “"I didn’'t do it, Jilly.”"
Jilly bit her lip and thought for a moment, then marched right past her co-workers, right past Lucy, and into Nola’'s alcove. Lucy followed right behind her. They found Nola on the phone, imploring, “"Hello? Hello?”" while Naunie sat on the corner of her desk, watching her intently.
Lucy snuck behind the panoramic X-ray machine.
“"Nola,”" Jilly said starkly, standing before the desk rigidly.
“"Yes,”" the office manager replied, preoccupied with dialing a number. “"Oh. Thank heavens! It’'s ringing this time.”"
Naunie leaned over, her crooked finger poised and rapidly going for the disconnect button.
“"Hello? Hello?”" Nola pleaded, then finally slammed the receiver down. “"WHAT is wrong with this phone? I can’'t make any calls out!”"
“"I think someone is playing a joke on me,”" Jilly explained. “"Who was here last night when you left?”"
“"No one, just me,”" Nola answered. “"I locked up.”"
“"Then who was here this morning? There must have been someone here. I don’'t know, landlord, the cleaning people, was there a repair person here?”"
“"That’'s ridiculous. It was just me,”" Nola said as she picked up the receiver again. “"There was no one here. The office was empty like it always is in the morning. Ow! Ow! Something is bi
ting me! I’'ve been bitten! They must have followed me to the office! That dog has fleas. They’'ve been waging war on me all morning!”"
“"Someone has taken Lucy’'s mug out of the cabinet and spelled out her name in chart letters in front of it. And I want to know who did that and why,”" Jilly informed her, then turned around. As she began to walk back to the office, she glanced past the X-ray machine. Lucy quickly slunk back, just in time to miss being caught in Jilly’'s double take due to the charge Lucy was pulling from the machine.
“"How would I know that?”" Nola called after her. “"She’'s your friend.”"
“"Was my friend,”" Jilly said almost beneath her breath.
Still perched behind the giant X-ray machine, Lucy watched as Nola chugged into the break room to see the display for herself. Once she caught a glimpse of the mug shrine, her brow tensed.
“"I don’'t know what that’'s all about,”" Nola huffed. “"Why on earth would you think I would have anything to do with that? I’'m the last person who wants anything to do with that person. I have to deal with her enough as it is. She’'s still everywhere I look. This morning, I found a Lucy Fisher sticker on my lunch bag.”"
She snatched the drug test out of the cup, threw the mug into the trash, gathered up the letters, and shoved them into the pockets of her smock.
“"Now it’'s gone,”" she announced. “"Problem solved.”"
No one said anything as Nola stormed out of the break room and back to her alcove, tripping in the doorway on her suddenly untied and extended shoelace.
After a long silence, it was Marcia who spoke first.
“"So …...,”" she started. “"I take it this is the Lucy you told me about.”"
Jilly nodded. Lucy moved out from behind the machine into the doorway of the break room.
“"We’'re not supposed to talk about her in the office,”" Marianne whispered, gesturing her head toward Nola’'s way.
“"Do you think Nola did that?”" Jilly asked, also in a whisper. “"Just to get a rise out of us?”"
“"I don’'t know,”" Marianne answered simply. “"It’'s kinda weird.”"
“"Marianne, the whole thing is kinda weird,”" Jilly said rather firmly.
“"She did look shocked when she saw it,”" Marianne concluded. “"I don’'t think it was Nola.”"
“"Then, who would do it?”" Jilly questioned. “"Who else would set up some creepy thing like that for me to find except for the woman who kind of took over Lucy’'s life here?”"
“"But why would she do it?”" Marcia asked quietly.
Jilly shook her head. “"Who knows?”" she replied. “"And you know what else? Who cares? Lucy was such a good friend to us that she took off, left her dog behind, and her stuff in my garage, and that’'s it. That’'s a really great friend, isn’'t it?”"
Lucy was quite taken aback. That was some response, she thought, like I’'d planned on getting killed that day. What a crappy thing to say, she wanted to yell at Jilly. Like this is my fault! Like I knew this was going to happen and left my stuff in your garage just to piss you off? Sorry to saddle you with your dead friend’'s rocking chair and a box of books! What a hassle. What was wrong with her?
Marianne looked down at the floor. “"I haven’'t heard from her either, Jilly,”" she said simply.
What? Lucy screamed in her head. How were you supposed to hear from me? None of us were able to send any kind of message back once we were in school. What did Marianne think, that there was a special ghost phone she could call on? She’'s dumber than she was the last time I saw her.
Jilly shook her head disgustedly. “"I don’'t know what I did aside from being a good friend to that girl,”" she said harshly. “"I got her this job, nursed her through one heartache after another, and encouraged her to stop being such a flake and get her shit together when she met Martin. But apparently, that’'s not enough to give me a ring or drop me a line after she starts a new life wherever the hell she is. Nola said Martin got a letter from her, but me, no. Not a word. Not one single damn word.”"
“"I’'m sorry, Jilly,”" Marianne said.
“"You know what the funny thing is?”" Jilly said, biting her lip. “"I miss her. I miss her. I thought I saw her in the hall, just now. How crazy is that? No matter what she’'s done, no matter how much she doesn’'t care about any of us, I still miss her. But the next time I see her, I am kicking her ass. I’'m so tired of worrying about Lucy. I’'ve spent years doing it.”"
Naunie, who was crouched on the opposite side of the doorjamb after attacking Nola’'s shoe, looked over and saw the jaw hanging open on her granddaughter’'s stunned and dazed face.
“"Lucy,”" she said, not able to believe it herself, “"they don’'t know you’'re dead.”"
Lucy couldn’'t stay at the office after that. She had too much to absorb. Despite her aversion to large city-run vehicles, she still remembered the bus route from all the times her truck had broken down and been in the shop. She and Naunie left the dentist’'s office and headed back home. They found a quiet seat in the back and scooted in. They noticed there were several other ghosts riding the bus, too, evident by the shining that surrounded them, and they exchanged small, knowing nods with two old women both dressed as White Ladies, except both of them clutched their pocketbooks, terrified that even in their invisible, spectral form, they were still vulnerable while taking city transportation to getting mugged by some ruffian wayward youth.
“"I don’'t understand,”" Lucy said for the fifth time after they had been sitting for a while. “"Why didn’'t Alice tell anyone? Wasn’'t it worth mentioning?”"
“"A fellow in my class at ghost school was dead for almost a year before anyone found him in his recliner, TV still on,”" Naunie mentioned. “"At least they found you.”"
“"Well, I don’'t think that could have been helped,”" Lucy replied. “"I was kind of scattered all over an intersection.”"
“"All right, then, let’'s think about this,”" Naunie said. “"How many of your friends did Alice know?”"
Lucy thought for a moment. “"Not many, but she certainly knew Jilly. They’'ve met before, numerous times. I can’'t understand why she wouldn’'t tell her.”"
“"Maybe it’'s not that she wouldn’'t,”" Naunie suggested. “"Maybe it’'s that she couldn’'t. Did you have an address book, or somewhere that had all of the phone numbers of your friends?”"
“"An address book?”" Lucy laughed. “"I haven’'t had an address book for years. Everything I needed was on my phone.”"
“"Okay. Did Alice know how to access those numbers, did she know that’'s where everything was?”" Naunie questioned. “"Was the phone at Alice’'s house?”"
Lucy slowly shook her head. “"No,”" she finally answered. “"It was with me the day I was killed. In my purse.”"
“"Oh.”" Naunie understood. “"Chances are it didn’'t fare any better than you did. Well, there must have been other ways you kept in touch with people, right? Didn’'t you write letters? Maybe you had some that had return addresses on them?”"
“"I’'m sure I got a postcard here and there, but nothing that I held on to,”" Lucy remembered.
“"There has to be another way to find your friends,”" Naunie insisted. “"What about email?”"
“"Yes!”" Lucy almost shouted. “"I did email almost everyone I knew, but when Martin kicked me out, I lost my primary account. Jilly set me up with a free one on my laptop before I left for Flagstaff, but I never really had a chance to use it, just gave a couple of people my new address. I never even turned the laptop on when I got to Alice’'s. It was in my bag in a box with some other stuff.”"
“"Nothing else?”" Naunie asked. “"What about your work phone number?”"
“"Are you kidding?”" Lucy laughed. “"With Nola watching us like a hawk? No, if Alice wanted to get ahold of me, she’'d call home or my cell. I don’'t think I ever gave her my work number. And after the threat of a malpractice suit last year, Dr. Meadows
changed the practice into a corporation to protect his personal assets. It’'s listed under ‘'The Molar System’' in the phone book now. I guess I didn’'t leave her much to go on, did I? I don’'t even think she knew Jilly’'s new married name. I never thought that once my phone got creamed, I would become obsolete and lost to the ages. I never thought about leaving an ‘'In the Event of My Death’' list of contacts. Was I really that easy to just wipe away? And no one came looking for me, either, I notice.”"
“"If people still wrote letters, this would never have happened, Lucy!”" Naunie insisted. “"Damn technology only lets you down when you need to send the most important message of all.”"
“"Well, apparently, I wrote a letter to Martin! Why would Nola make up such a stupid lie, except to create drama and to have one up on everyone else?”" Lucy almost hissed. “"Now instead of wondering what happened to me, my friends hate me. All I can tell you is that someone is going to get pinched tonight.”"
The pair made it back to the house just in time for Lucy’'s favorite activity of the day: mail delivery. Naunie was hoping that it was just what her granddaughter needed to cheer her up.
“"Lucy!”" Naunie screeched as she saw the mail carrier, a man close to retirement age with flushed red cheeks and a receding hairline typical of Franciscan monks, starting up the driveway to the house. The fatty skin above his knees jiggled recklessly with every step, and as Lucy ran into the living room in response to Naunie’'s screech, she saw the mailman pass the living room picture window and looked into his eyes at the exact same moment he looked into hers.
He looked shocked, then furrowed his brow.
“"You,”" he said as he pointed a finger at her, “"did not fill out a change of address form! You have to do that, you know! You can’'t just keep writing ‘'Whereabouts Unknown’' on everything with your name on it and expect me to pick it back up again! You’'ve had me carrying pounds of returned mail and you are no longer on my route!”"
Lucy couldn’'t say anything; she just stood there with her mouth hanging open. He, clearly, could see her. Not just catching a glimpse like Jilly out of the corner of her eye, but he was talking to her as if she was really there.