Lourdes Ann Banal

“Fuck. FUCK. Fuck it. I give up. There’s just no pleasing you!” ​Jack stormed off from Gary’s office. Anne flinched at the slam of the door. Gary let out a huff, and dropped Jack’s manuscript into the reject bin. “Well, if there’s anything else.” Gary said as he grabbed his coat. “You know where to find me.” Anne nodded and grabbed her things. “I’m sure he’ll come around.” “Yeah,” he huffed. “Or maybe he finally has had enough. Go home, Anne.” PART I: Here Lies Gary Gary Miller was found dead in a dumpster, behind the bar he frequented. He was discovered 6 in the morning by the trash collectors. They heard a thumping sound mistaken as a machine malfunction, but it was merely Gary’s lifeless body lodged in-between the loading hopper. It was the second most horrific thing they’ve seen that morning. Honestly, everything else feels second when Real Housewives is no longer on your network. The funeral was held as soon as the coroner finished the autopsy. It was a closed casket. It was really for the best. “I just can’t believe he’s really gone,” the blonde woman sobbed into her handkerchief. Anne and Jack shared a look. ​“Do you know her?” Anne mouthed to Jack, as Father continued on the service. Jack shrugged. ​“No, you?” ​Anne shook her head. The woman continued to sob harder. ​“Comfort her?!” Anne gave him a pointed look. Jack gave her the same. He raised his fist with a hand underneath. “​Are you fucking serious? Now??” “Comfort her then.” ​Anne rolled her eyes and did the same. ​“Fine.” Rock. Paper. Scissors. Shoot. ​Jack did rock and Anne did scissors. He pumped his fist in a celebratory manner. ​“I win.” ​He nodded her to the girl​. Anne frowned and placed a comforting hand on the blonde’s shoulder. The girl went and sobbed louder, but this time into Anne’s blouse. Jack let out a small laugh, that was met with a disapproving look of one of Father’s ushers. Anne forced shut her eyes and began rubbing the girl’s back as she continued to weep into her chest. When the service finished, and thankfully the blonde woman finally ran out of tears. She approached Anne. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s no problem.” Anne gave her a small smile. “How did you know Gary? I don’t think we’ve met you before.” Jack came to Anne’s side. “Oh, he was one of my regulars.” she dabbed the corner of her eye. “I’m going to miss him. Anyways, I’ll be off now. Thank you, again.” She patted Anne’s arm as she left. “Huh, Regulars… So, she’s a-” before Jack could finish, Anne elbowed his stomach. Father Bart approached the two. “My condolences. I’m so sorry for your loss. I know what it feels like to lose a mentor. It's a lot like losing a parent. He seemed to be a good man.” Neither of the two had the heart to tell him that maybe 80% of his visitors today may have been the bartenders, call girls, loan sharks, and possibly others who were making sure he was dead. “I pray his soul may rest in peace and justice be found. Especially after what had happened to him.” “Thank you, Father.” Jack said, as Anne seemed to have spaced out. “May I ask if they find out how he died exactly? It’s okay if you do not want to answer.” “I wish we could tell you, but the coroner only said it might’ve been alcohol poisoning with a mix of substance abuse.” Jack shook his head. “I grew up with him, and I didn’t know he was using. It just doesn’t seem like him.” “But to end up in a dumpster?” Father scoffed. “I used to have fun, like real 70s fun, but dumpsters aren’t the norm. Churches are, I mean, for me I suppose.” He cleared his throat. “But Lord knows you did your best for him.” Father Bart turned to look at Anne. “I’m sorry again for your loss. But I must go, my ride's here.” After the service Jack and Anne parted ways. “I thought we were supposed to clear out his office together?” She said. “The man just died a couple of days ago. His soul probably hasn’t even left yet. We can probably do that another time.” He waved her off. “Besides, we got till the end of the month. Can’t we just fucking mourn for a bit?” “You’re just guilty, aren’t you?” That wasn’t a question. “Because the last time you spoke, you guys fought.” “No, it’s not about that-” “Then, what is it? Because, I have deadlines to catch, too, here. I still have a few manuscripts to send out soon. I just want this out of the way-” “The man’s just been dead. You may have only known him for a couple of years, but I knew him for ​ages​. Forgive me if I’m not so ​keen on going through a recently dead man’s things.” Anne went back to the office alone. The familiar stone walls calmed her, as she went and unlocked the door. When the door swung open, she dropped the keys. “Anne! Oh thank, God. You’re here! You would not ​believe ​the week I’ve had.” “​Gary?!” PART II: Here Lies Anne “Wait! What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” ​Anne’s face had turned a pale sheen of white. “Well, you’re ​supposed ​to be dead.” Her voice shook as she said this. Gary looked the same as he was. A tall, mid 30’s man of asian descent. He wore the same clothes he was found in, he looked almost good as alive. Oh. Except for the fact he’s completely translucent now. “What do you mean?” He was confused. “I think I’d know if I was ​dead​. But, anyways, I’m so glad you came back. I thought you and Jack were done with me last we spoke. Look, I’m sorry-” “Stop.” “What? I’m trying to say-” “I said stop. For once in your life, shut up. I’m trying to think.” ​Right, life. He’s dead. Good one, Anne. “Why are you here?” Gary was shocked. “Well it is ​my o ​ ffice.” “We buried you just this morning!” She clutched her head, knelt on the carpet flooring. “I had to comfort one of your hookers!” “Oh, which one?” “She was a sweet looking blonde woman.” “That’s very sweet of Emily, but there has to be a misunderstanding-” “I DON’T CARE ABOUT EMILY. YOU’RE DEAD.” She said. “Or, maybe I’ve just gone crazy. WORKING WITH YOU ALL THESE YEARS. God, Jack might be right. Your soul or whatever hasn’t rested yet.” “See, it’s the things you do that make you look crazy. I mean, I’m here. How could I be...” It dawned on him. “Shit, I might be dead. I haven’t slept, eaten or drank anything for days while I was working... Wow…And I thought ​you ​were the nut job.” Gary sat down next to Anne. “Tell me what you last remember.” He thought deep. Then he widened his eyes and grabbed Anne by the shoulders. She didn’t really feel anything but wisps of cold, she felt a chill in her spine. I wonder if he knows that. “Okay, so” he started. “I left this office. I went to the bar, like I said I would. Then ... I woke up outside the bar, by the dumpster. The sun was barely rising, and I walked home. I guess this explains why no one greeted me back.” He laughed to himself. “I just thought everyone hated me. Then I just decided to go back here.” “Anything else?” “No,” he said. “No, not really. Do you happen to know anything?” Anne looked at Gary, who was watching her. “They found your body in a dumpster. Well, garbage truck. You lodged yourself in-between the mouth of it.” She said. “Last I saw you was when we left the office together, after Jack ran out.” Gary looked distant, sad even. “So, how many were there in the funeral?” “It was a good lot, all of your favorite faces. Emily, included.” “Was Tasha there too?” “Who the fuck is-, no, wait, I don’t care. You’re dead. I don’t even think you’re real and I should just go home and sleep. This will all be over.” Anne got up, and picked her bag from the floor. “No, Anne, wait! Stay. You seem to be the only one who’s seen me all week. Just help me figure this out, please?” “I think, I think I remember more. Uhhh, a couple of people approached me that night! Just let me try to remember-” “Fine, okay, okay. Just don’t you dare cry.” She sighed into her palm. “We have to go tell Jack.” “You’re fucking insane, Anne.” Jack slurred. “Go home.” “I’m not the one sloshed in the last bar Gary was in.” “She has a point.” “Oh, I’m not talking to you!” “Anne, who the fuck are you talking to? It’s just me.” “You really can’t see him??” “All I see is a very tired Annie. Now you’re all,” he burped. “-cuckoo.” “I told you, Anne. It seems like you’re the only one who can see me.” He slumped in the barstool next to Jack. “I’m sorry, bud.” He said to him, and patted his back. Jack let out a shiver. “Go home, Annie.” He hiccupped. “Or, have a drink with meee. The old coot’s dead. He’s gone.” Jack zoned out, before speaking again. “Okay, don’t go home. Talk to me.” Anne motioned to the bartender for 2 more of the same. “You believe in ghosts?” “It doesn’t hurt no one to believe in a little something, but yeah I do.” “I don’t know, but only I could see him. He hasn’t left me since I got to the office.” She took a sip from her drink. “Maybe he’s just got some ‘unfinished business.’” He snorted and slumped over the counter. “Though he ​was ​wasted, he does make good points.” Gary said to Anne, as they were walking out the bar. “Hmm?” “Jack and unfinished purpose or business. Maybe that’s my problem here. That's why I can’t ​die.​ ” Anne looked at him. “Well, there was that novel you went on all secretive about.” “Yeah, maybe it’s that.” “We could check it out-” “But, this may come as a shock to you, but I’m not the nicest person alive. I pissed off a lot of people.” “Some people believe you’ve actually been offed.” Anne said as she kicked a pebble off the curb. “What do you think?” “Yeah, that would not be a surprise.” He scoffed. “If I found out whoever did off me, I don’t know whether to reward them or kill them.” “I’ll help.” She said. “But unlike you, I do need some sleep. We’ll go door-to-door if we have to, ​tomorrow.​” He gave her a ghost of a smile. “Thank you, Anne.” PART III: Here Lies Jack It was daylight now. Jack was heavily hungover on his way to Gary’s grave. As he approached the headstone, a man in black was praying over it. Gareth “Gary” R. Miller 1975 - 2028 Beloved son, friend, & ambiguously sober It was Father Bart. His eyes were closed, with a rosary held loosely between his hands. When Jack arrived, he had stayed silent, bowed his head, and waited for Father to finish his prayers. “I didn’t notice you.” Father said. “How long have you been there?” “Just arrived now, you?” “About the same." Father Bart smiled at the headstone. "You're very popular this morning, Gary." "You see, just as I arrived, I saw this Eddie Murphy look alike from the funeral. I think he said he was an old friend. Y'know him?" "OH! Think you meant Charlie. Yeah, I know him." Jack said. "Didn't know he kept in touch." Jack got off the cab at 45 Ford’s Cliff Rd., ​C. Murdoch’s Residence. Charles Murdoch was a novelist, well known for his fantasy novels which garnered mild fame. His series ​Escape to Pluto’s Aisle would have gained him more fame, if only he hadn’t timed his launch date on the same day as the first iPhone was released. Jack rang the doorbell. And a tall man came up the door to greet him. “Oh it’s you,” Charlie said, “Jack, right? Gary’s friend?” “Yeah, uhh.” “I assume you came to talk about Gary,” Charlie said. “Come on in.” Jack enters the house and takes a seat, confused why he’s even there in the first place. “So, what can I do for you, Jack?” “I’m not quite sure why I came by,” he looked around the place, it was filled to the brim with books, papers, and ashtrays. Much like the office always was. “You were Gary’s old mentor, right? I didn’t know you guys kept in touch after all these years. I thought you guys had a falling out.” Charlie was quiet, watching Jack move around the place. He took a seat on one of the armchairs. “Yeah, we met at Wesleyan, I gave a guest lecture there. He approached me after it with a manuscript at hand. I mean plenty of kids did that, but what made him different was he straight-up said to me: “Your writing sucks! I’m way better than you” and then, he handed me his manuscript.” Jack laughed at the thought of 20 year-old Gary swearing off to a maybe 50 year old man twice his size. “Yeah, that sounds right.” “Knew right then and there, Gary was an asshat. Like, I was ready to turn him away, but I’m glad I didn’t. Because the moment I flipped through the manuscript, and read whatever his amateur grubby hands had written, I saw he had potential.” Charlie paused to light a cigarette. “Too bad, he never got around to actually publishing his own work under his name.” He blew out a smoke. “I’m surprised the man even got shit done as an editor or ghostwriter for others. Perfectionists really are the most unproductive lot.” Jack nodded. “Plus, they’re annoying to hell. Never could catch a break from them.” Charlie turned to Jack, “you write? What do you write?” “More on the non-fiction side, I ghost write memoirs and autobiographies for people.” “Well, that's good. You the one Gary said wrote the crime thrillers on the side, that was unhappy?” Jack surprised Gary even talked about them. “No, but I do write a bit of scifi and fantasy. You must be thinking of Anne.” “Huh, Anne. Right. How’s she been lately?” “She’s seen better days.” “Published yet?” Jack shook his head. “Actually thought she was ‘bout to be, but Gary shot it down on the later stages of it.” “Yeah? I’m sure as your mentor, he had some good points to say why” “Yeah. I thought it had good potential. Gary just said she was getting way too invested in the details than the story itself. Said if she kept this up her work will never see the light of day.” “That’s gotta be rough. Guess she didn’t take it well?” “No, I don’t know. It was weird after it, she just almost never left his side. I was beginning to think they had some secret going between them. Anyways, the manuscript was about supernatural crime fiction, with some witchcraft and folklore roots. May I ask you something?” “Why not? Go ahead.” “You and Gary used to be in this mentorship together, why’d you guys fall out?” “Honestly, it’s similar to how Anne and he were. Except we graduated from mentorship to this love-hate friendship. I saw him as a colleague, he comes by and helps with whatever novel I’m on. But there’s this one work I was particularly invested in, I believed it was going to put me on the map. It was a masterpiece to me. Until I showed it to him, and he went through it, only to put it down and tell me all the things I went wrong in it. I told him to get out.” He paused. “Threw out years of friendship out the door for it, but when I went to see my publisher about it, they just told me to go packing back to writing for young adults.” “At least he tried to help save the work. I guess when something gets too close to you, you can’t just let it go like that, you can’t see what the other’s see. At least your Anne seemed to be better than I was, but I don’t know her like you do so I don’t know.” “Yeah, I do know her. I have to go,” Jack got up his feet abruptly. “Thank you.” Part IV: Here Lies the Truth Anne had gone up to possibly the thirteenth house of someone Gary had pissed off. They’ve been sworn, yelled at, tossed out, potentially banned, and almost got into a fight. “Gary, why the hell did you have piss everyone off?!” As Anne grabbed her coat from the ground, after being tossed out of Diane’s home. Gary slept with her and her daughter. He shrugged his shoulders. Frustrated, Anne started to walk away from him. “God, I was right to hate you!” “You hated me? Why?” “Oh, don’t pretend like you didn’t hate me too! “I don’t understand-” “Look, ever since I came to work with you and Jack. You just shunned out my ideas and kept handing me out the sissy romance work. You said you were going to help me and Jack become these great published writers! Fame, fortune, recognition! But all it’s been is ghostwriting work, and harsh words for any work we bring in, when you yourself haven’t published yourself! Been on and on about your great debut novel! Never even seen the light of day to be criticized!” “Anne, that’s harsh.” “Harsh? HARSH! Coming from you, the dead guy? Like what was it about that novel you just ​never showed it to us? Maybe you’re just here because you were such a scummy man, who led a scummy life with literally nothing to show for it, that led you dead in a dumpster!” “I’m sorry, Anne.” He stopped chasing after her. “I guess you’re right.” “Hey.” Anne went back around to him. She tried to hold up his face, “why don’t you try making it up to me? Show me the work. Maybe that’ll help you get out of here.” Gary nodded. “Okay, I’ll show you where it is.” PART V: Here Lies The End Anne and Gary returned back to the office​. “Come follow me,” he said. Without bothering to close the doors or take off Anne’s coat. He kept leading her to a secret area behind the shelving, hidden just by the dark corner of the room. A vault sat there waiting. “The manuscript is in there, the combination is 491825.” She did as he said and the vault clicked open. A thick block manuscript consisting maybe of 500-pages sat on top of the other files. Anne’s hand trembled lightly as she held the manuscript on hand. After Life As We Know By: Gareth Miller (Final Revisions) Gary watched confused as to why the smile on Anne’s face grew. Jack arrived at the office, panting, with a slight sheen of sweat across his forehead. He found the door ajar, and walked in, then he heard a laugh. He walked to the far edge of the room, where the furniture were rearranged. “Anne,” he said as he saw her. “Why did you do it?” Gary and Jack couldn’t take their eyes off of Anne. She was still smiling, crying too, and paid no attention to the others in the room as the manuscript was in her hands. “Hello, Jack. You’re here.” She finally looked up. “Do you know what I got in my hands right now?” She beamed at him, tears staining her face. “I have nothing at all. And it took me everything,” she said. “Everything.” “Why’d you have to do it, Anne?” “He just wouldn’t be honest. He tore me shreds with his lies and hatred masked as critique, and he died along with it. Why didn’t he just be honest?” “Honest about what, Annie?” “My ​writing,​ my ​life. He tore it all to shreds, each and every time and just left us hopeful.” “But you didn’t have to kill him.” Jack was crying now. “He took everything, and it was never enough. And that wasn’t supposed to happen, I-” She clutched the manuscript against her chest. “Anne, please, just tell me what happened.” “It was an honest mistake.” Jack came to her side, Gary stunned at the happenings. He began to remember the events that led to his death. Anne followed Gary a couple of hours later. She found him downing drinks at their usual bar. The night Jack stormed off from their meeting must’ve been the last straw, after the rejection of her own work. All she wanted was to get Gary to confess. She wanted him to confess that he never knew what he was talking about writing, about her, about anything. She ​knew he was lying. She began to play a game, using a “truth serum” she had found while she was researching her novel. She slowly increased the serum dosage as the night went on, but Gary drank and drank, and she wasn’t getting anything out of him. Frustrated, she brought him out the back, as she was beginning to catch strange looks. But he collapses, the serum and the alcohol must’ve poisoned him. “I just didn’t know what I was supposed to do,” she fell on her knees, sobbing. “ but I had to hide him somewhere. I’m so sorry, I’m just so sorry.” “I believe you, Annie. I’m sorry too.” Gary said. The police arrived at the scene, and took Anne in for custody. Jack had to watch as they drove away. He takes one more look around the office, before he leaves, As he tried to straighten a few things out, he saw the manuscript scattered on the floor and picked it up. A couple months down the road​, Gareth Miller’s name had filled the stores. The Times, Post and other outlets have commended his work for its prose and poetic stance on the possibility of existence beyond what is known. Published posthumously with the foreword written by Charles Murdoch. Gary stared in awe at the sight of the shelves with his name. People coming in the stores and leaving with a part of his life in their purse. Father Bart stood next to him, without a glance. “You did good as much as you can, even if no one saw it that way.” “But I could’ve been better.” “I know. But,” He smiled. “For now, you really have to go.” Gary looked towards him and gave him a small smile.