death. Just days after Halloween, a disgruntled worker who
had been fired had come back into the office. He had been turned
into a zombie, likely voluntarily, and wanted to inflict the
disease onto the people who were involved in his firing. Levi
worked in human resources and was a natural target. He had been
working in his cubicle when the ex-coworker bit him on the back of
the neck.
Heather could have just kicked Levi out of the
house like many other spouses had done to their zombie husbands and
wives. Perhaps she didn’t have the energy. Tension between them was
still high, and divorce seemed inevitable.
So when Heather woke up early Christmas morning,
it felt just like any other night. They hadn’t decorated the house
or bought presents this year. They didn’t even have a tree.
As the clock ticked, by every minute that
Heather stared up at the ceiling, she thought about the past year.
Through all of it, Levi had been her rock and supporter. She had
been depressed, it affected her work, and she got fired from her
job. Levi took on a second job to get them by and hadn’t pressured
her to go back to work.
Even after his death, Levi continued to be
supportive. As badly as she had treated him, here he was making
supper for her every night, keeping the house clean, and generally
taking the entire burden off of her. The only thing that was
different about Levi now was that he was a zombie, but he was still
the man that she had always loved.
She got out of bed and got dressed. At the
department store that stayed open all night, she bought a tree,
lights and ornaments, a ham, and a brand new stereo for Levi’s car.
Quietly as to avoid waking him up, she decorated the tree, wrapped
the presents, and put them under the tree. She put together a meal
ready to pop in the oven.
As the sun started to rise, she made cinnamon
rolls from scratch and started coffee. Levi was awakened by the
wonderful smells and stared in astonishment at the tree. Heather
walked into the living room where he was standing and handed him a
freshly iced, warm cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee, then gave him
a huge hug.
“Merry Christmas my love.”
(back to
TOC)
****
Easter at Church
Easter was upon us. It was typical early
springtime weather in Michigan: dreary, cold, the clouds threatened
snow but none fell, and the wind was brisk.
I wasn’t looking forward to spending the holiday
with my family. I was the black sheep of the family, the godless
heathen. They never said it aloud, but I knew that was their
thoughts of me. My mother was in church every Sunday, accompanied
by my stepfather, and followed by my sister and her perfect family
of four. They attended bible school and bible camp and supported
the church any way they could.
My mother did call me, “your father’s daughter.”
My dad died when I was a toddler. My memories of him are very
vague. For a widow, my mother was very bitter. She talked ill of
him and “his type” any time I tried to bring him up. Therefore, I
knew very little about him.
I think Mother felt betrayed when I finally went
on my first date in high school. Oh, it’s not like she didn’t want
me to date. She was trying to hook me up with boys from church all
the time. She was just caught off guard by the person who came to
pick me up that evening. It definitely threw my stepfather for a
loop. All of his rehearsed lines were lost when it wasn’t Billy
from church at the door. Neither was it Mike from down the street,
or even one of those “rude” boys from school (what my mother called
any teenager she didn’t know).
No, when Melissa knocked at the door, my mother
looked behind her expecting to see two boys, for a good wholesome
double date. “I’m sorry,” said my mother, “Susan is getting ready
to go out on a date.”
“I know, Mrs. Sheldon,” my girlfriend replied.
“That’s why I’m here to pick her up.”
My mother forgot about Melissa standing there,
summoned my father, and together they
had been fired had come back into the office. He had been turned
into a zombie, likely voluntarily, and wanted to inflict the
disease onto the people who were involved in his firing. Levi
worked in human resources and was a natural target. He had been
working in his cubicle when the ex-coworker bit him on the back of
the neck.
Heather could have just kicked Levi out of the
house like many other spouses had done to their zombie husbands and
wives. Perhaps she didn’t have the energy. Tension between them was
still high, and divorce seemed inevitable.
So when Heather woke up early Christmas morning,
it felt just like any other night. They hadn’t decorated the house
or bought presents this year. They didn’t even have a tree.
As the clock ticked, by every minute that
Heather stared up at the ceiling, she thought about the past year.
Through all of it, Levi had been her rock and supporter. She had
been depressed, it affected her work, and she got fired from her
job. Levi took on a second job to get them by and hadn’t pressured
her to go back to work.
Even after his death, Levi continued to be
supportive. As badly as she had treated him, here he was making
supper for her every night, keeping the house clean, and generally
taking the entire burden off of her. The only thing that was
different about Levi now was that he was a zombie, but he was still
the man that she had always loved.
She got out of bed and got dressed. At the
department store that stayed open all night, she bought a tree,
lights and ornaments, a ham, and a brand new stereo for Levi’s car.
Quietly as to avoid waking him up, she decorated the tree, wrapped
the presents, and put them under the tree. She put together a meal
ready to pop in the oven.
As the sun started to rise, she made cinnamon
rolls from scratch and started coffee. Levi was awakened by the
wonderful smells and stared in astonishment at the tree. Heather
walked into the living room where he was standing and handed him a
freshly iced, warm cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee, then gave him
a huge hug.
“Merry Christmas my love.”
(back to
TOC)
****
Easter at Church
Easter was upon us. It was typical early
springtime weather in Michigan: dreary, cold, the clouds threatened
snow but none fell, and the wind was brisk.
I wasn’t looking forward to spending the holiday
with my family. I was the black sheep of the family, the godless
heathen. They never said it aloud, but I knew that was their
thoughts of me. My mother was in church every Sunday, accompanied
by my stepfather, and followed by my sister and her perfect family
of four. They attended bible school and bible camp and supported
the church any way they could.
My mother did call me, “your father’s daughter.”
My dad died when I was a toddler. My memories of him are very
vague. For a widow, my mother was very bitter. She talked ill of
him and “his type” any time I tried to bring him up. Therefore, I
knew very little about him.
I think Mother felt betrayed when I finally went
on my first date in high school. Oh, it’s not like she didn’t want
me to date. She was trying to hook me up with boys from church all
the time. She was just caught off guard by the person who came to
pick me up that evening. It definitely threw my stepfather for a
loop. All of his rehearsed lines were lost when it wasn’t Billy
from church at the door. Neither was it Mike from down the street,
or even one of those “rude” boys from school (what my mother called
any teenager she didn’t know).
No, when Melissa knocked at the door, my mother
looked behind her expecting to see two boys, for a good wholesome
double date. “I’m sorry,” said my mother, “Susan is getting ready
to go out on a date.”
“I know, Mrs. Sheldon,” my girlfriend replied.
“That’s why I’m here to pick her up.”
My mother forgot about Melissa standing there,
summoned my father, and together they
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