Blue Skies, Smilin’ At Me

a/n: luke deserves someone to bake him cookies and hangout with him so that’s why im here… all the fun fluff stuff happens in part 2... but i am still very proud of this lol MY FIRST FIC ON HERE AND MY FIRST FIC OF 2026

spoilers for eternity!

PART ONE OF TWO word count: 14,590

"What will I do now?"

That was the question you asked your Afterlife Coordinator when you had chosen your Eternity. The answer you got was simple.

"Whatever you want."

You were a child of 1952, and you died in 2025. 

73. Lung cancer.

When you arrived at the junction, you were not the fine age of 73. You were 24. It had been so long since you saw yourself in that way; you had almost forgotten what your face looked like.

One moment you were old and frail and being watched over by a kind neighbor boy, and the next you were 24 on a train. 

You had gathered pretty early that you had died. What other explanation was there?

Her AC's name was Lilah. She was sweet, although it freaked you out that you were put in the care of a 9-year-old girl. Lilah had told you that she was technically 108, which you still could not wrap your head around.

You decided on Mountain World. 

A nice place to spend the rest of your life for all time. You liked the outdoors, although you weren't that sporty in life, being dead was a good time to learn how to do things, and get new hobbies.

If you were going to be dead for the rest of time, you might as well work on bettering yourself, right?

You had arrived at the beginning of winter. It was strange to you that they had seasons; the Mountain World president (which was apparently a thing) had told you that people liked the seasons changing. It helped them keep track of time and not get bored.

What was the point of keeping track of time if it was going to just go on forever and ever? Maybe it was just nice to know. That time can stomp forward, and one can be a part of it even in death.

You checked the map. Your cabin that you had been granted was somewhere near here… You heard music playing in the distance.

"When did you leave heaven? How could they let you go?

How's everything in Heaven? I'd like to know

Why did you trade Heaven for all these earthly things

Where did you hide your Halo?"

A song from your childhood. But this wasn't the Nancy Wilson version. It was a male singer. He didn't sound nearly as good.

You walked towards the music. Loud piano keys and trumpets filled the serene woods. It wasn't snowing, but the ground seemed to crunch when you walked like it had been freshly frozen over.

You saw a cabin in the distance. The door was wide open. You thought for a moment about not going inside… but you were already dead. What possible harm could looking inside do to you?

You walked towards the door and finally into the cabin. It was incredibly messy inside. The curtains were pulled to a close, blankets and various food items were all over the floor, including a half-eaten box of pizza. The lights were off, and the record player in the corner was the only item that seemed well taken care of.

You knocked on the door. It seems like the polite thing to do.

"Hello?" You called out.

Someone groaned out in response. Your eyes widened. Were they hurt? This was supposed to be a version of heaven, right? You shouldn't get hurt in heaven!

You walked inside carefully and looked around for the source of the groan. 

It took you a second before you realized a man was lying on the floor in the center of the room. He blended in with all the trash and chaos scattered around, so you didn't even see him at first.

He was lying face down in what appeared to be his own vomit. 

"Oh Jesus," you cried to yourself before rushing over to his side. 

His eyes were closed, and he was muttering to himself. 

"Hello? Are you alright? Should I call someone?" You said, holding his face.

His face was cold. How long had he been passed out?

His eyes opened slowly. His vision blurring. He blinked and looked at you, confused. 

Blue. Bright blue eyes stared at you. 

"Why are you in my cabin?" It was the first thing he said.

"I was just walking by, and I heard music, and I wanted to check if everything was okay," you answered.

He looked around his cabin in confusion.

"Fuck me," he muttered to himself.

You finally let go of his face. 

He pushed you away. You fell back onto a discarded throw pillow.

He got up slowly. He stumbled slightly before standing straight. You looked up at him.

God, he was handsome… dark brown hair that had wisps of grey. A mustache that made him look like Clark Gable. A muscular frame and broad shoulders. 

However, you couldn't ignore the fact that your attractiveness to him was dampened by the fact that his face had spatters of vomit and his hands were drenched in sweat.

"God, when did I get home?" He spoke to himself.

He had a deep voice. A voice that could read audiobooks. You missed audiobooks… You wonder for a moment if you would be able to listen to them here…

"Well, you're okay, so I'm… just gonna go…" You got up hastily and wiped your hands on your bell-bottoms.

"You're new," he said to you horsily.

You blinked. 

"I'm Luke," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

He seemed incredibly uncomfortable with you seeing him in this state. You introduced yourself with a shy smile. He whispered your name to himself before asking.

"Where's your uh… cabin…" he rubbed the remaining vomit from his face.

"Well, I think I got lost. They gave me a map, but I think I got turned around and-"

"Let me see it," he said, holding out his hand.

He had nice hands… big…

You cleared your throat and took the map out of your pocket. You handed it to him. He examined it closely, looked at you, then back at the map. Then, he laughed.

"What?" You asked.

"You're on the wrong side of the lake," he said with a wide grin.

"Oh… I guess I can go back… I think I have a flashlight-"

"I'll row you across the lake; it'll be faster. Besides, you're right across from me anyway," he handed you back the map.

"Oh, you really don't have to do that. I'm sure you have better things to do," you said gently.

"Not really," he answered blandly.

The song ended, and the room filled with static from the record player.

"Just let me take a quick shower, okay? I'll be right back," he quickly walked towards the staircase and up the stairs.

You wanted to protest, you should have protested, but you didn't. He probably felt like he was obligated to help you since you checked up on him. 

You looked around the cabin. Should you clean? That seemed rude, to go through a stranger's things like that. The place was so dirty, though, that you felt like you should at least open the curtains for some light. So, you did. 

You could see across the lake from the window. There was a cabin with a large "WELCOME TO YOUR FOREVER HOME!" banner hanging across the patio.

How had you missed that? It was so obnoxiously big and bright.

You decided it was best just to stand outside and wait. 

There was a bench overlooking the pond (and your house). You decided to sit there. Your book bag and luggage are placed next to you. You inhaled sharply. The air was so fresh. Your lungs were not battered and bruised. You could smell everything. You shut your eyes and listened to the serene world around you. 

You weren't sure how long you sat there. Maybe you just got lost in listening to the world and your own thoughts. You were interrupted by Luke clearing his throat behind you. You turned to look at him.

He had certainly cleaned up. He no longer smelled of vomit and beer, that was for sure. He wore jeans and a dark green flannel as well as a heavy brown jacket. You frowned at his face.

"Did… did you shave?" You asked carefully.

He blinked and rubbed his mouth, looking away from you. "Uh… yeah."

You laughed. "Why?"

From your understanding, there wasn't a point in shaving or doing your hair or nails. Your body would regrow everything the next day. 

"I… It's a routine I have." He answered somewhat coldly.

You nodded. "Well. I like your mustache." 

You stood up and grabbed your two bags. Luke continued to stare at you, in an expression you could not read.

"What?" You asked, looking around.

"You like my mustache? You saw it for like not even ten minutes." He said, slightly stunned.

You shrugged, "yeah I mean I don't know. I think it makes you look sophisticated. Like Clark Gable in Gone With The Wind." 

He blinked at you.

"I mean, it's your face, you can do whatever you want. I'm not judging you or anything. I'm not shaving my legs in the afterlife, that's all I'm saying."

He nodded. 

"Let me get the canoe," he muttered, walking away from you.

Had you said something rude? It's not that he was ugly without the mustache or anything… it was hard to believe Luke had the capabilities of being ugly at all. Facial hair didn't change anything. 

The canoe was barely a foot in the water. He had already pushed it out into the lake. You rolled up your jeans to keep them from getting wet. 

You brought your bags to the canoe. Luke took them from you quickly and put them in the boat. He sat down on the far end and held onto the oars. 

You stared at the small rowboat.

"What?" Luke asked you with a somewhat irritated expression.

Maybe the hangover was just starting to kick in.

"I've… never been in one before." You said gently.

His expression softened.

"Oh… okay… uh, here give me your hand, I'll help you in okay?" 

You took Luke's hand and put one foot in the canoe. It felt like it was rocking back and forth.

Maybe it was the different sensation of the rocking of the lake from the ground, or maybe it was the fact that your shoes were slightly slippery from the mud that you stepped in that hadn't been frozen over yet… regardless of the reason, you lost your balance and fell forward. 

Luke managed to catch you without tipping the canoe over. You let out a squeal. His hands landed on your hips.

Your faces were close together. You hadn't been this close to a man in almost 10 years. 

The moment was short-lived as Luke gently pushed you back. He kept his hand on your arm as you sat down.

"I'm sorry," you said, clearing your throat. 

He didn't reply to that and simply began to row the boat. You watched as his arms flexed with each movement. Should you ask for help? Something told you Luke wasn't the type of man who accepted help… especially not from women.

"So…" you began.

"I died in Korea," Luke replied bluntly.

You looked up at his face. He wasn't even looking at you when he said it. Just behind you as you moved further away from his cabin.

"What?" You asked.

He glanced at you, "I died in Korea."

"Okay…" 

"Weren't you about to ask how I died?" He looked at you, puzzled.

"No." You scoffed, looking away from his perfectly sculptured face.

"Oh… sorry, that's usually one of the first things people ask…" he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I was gonna ask how long you've been here. In Mountain World," you clarified.

"Oh uh five years I think. I kinda lost track of time," he said, contemplating.

You nodded, "I just got here."

"Yeah… I know," Luke laughed. 

Right. You had already had this conversation…

"I died of um… lung cancer," you said sheepishly.

It seemed rude to ask people how they had died, but Luke clearly didn't care about the unspoken rule.

"I'm sorry," Luke said.

He seemed genuinely apologetic. You gave him a subtle smile.

"Oh, it's alright. I smoked cigarettes since I was 18; it's a miracle I didn't kick it earlier," you shrugged.

"What year did you die?" You asked him after a moment of silence.

He thought for a few minutes before answering.

"1952."

You laughed.

"What?"

"The year you died was the year I was born. Isn't that funny?" You giggled.

He had a contemplative look on his face. You stopped laughing. Maybe he thought you were poking fun.

Silence once again found itself between you two. You decided to look out onto the lake rather than at him.

"Are you married?" Luke asked you suddenly.

"I was. He died ten years before me, I think he's in the beach world or something."

"Why didn't you go with him?" 

You swallowed. He was staring at you so intensely that it made you want to jump ship. You managed to be saved by the two of you arriving at your cabin.

"Whoa… It's so big!" You yelled. 

Luke turned to look at it, "yeah I mean I think it's the same size as mine."

You jumped out of the canoe and rushed towards the house.

"This is all mine?!" You yelled at Luke, jumping up and down like a child on Christmas morning.

He took your bags out of the canoe.

"Uh, yeah. It's your ideal home, at least that's-"

"But it's all mine? Do I share it?" You questioned.

"No. It's yours," he answered with a furrow of his brow.

"Wow!" You laughed.

There was a wrap-around porch. You ran around it. You had always wanted a house with a wrap-around porch. You had never told anyone that. How did they know?

You hadn't run in so long. Your feet stomped hard on the wood of the porch floor. 

Luke watched you with his hands in his pockets, seemingly amused at your reaction.

"This is amazing!" You called out to Luke.

You let out ragged breaths.

"Holy shit, I forgot how weird running is," you gasped out.

"Weird?" Luke brought your bags up the stairs.

"Yeah, I think I forgot how to do it, ya know? I used a walker in my last few years, and so I think I just… forgot how to run? Did you go through that?" You asked stretching your back.

"Well, I died when I was 30, so I think I just always retained the knowledge of running," he answered.

Both of you went inside. 

It was like a cottage out of a fairytale. Funny enough, there was a television. It didn't look like one from your childhood, boxy and heavy; it looked like one of the newer models that your son-in-law had told you was "all the rage." The thing that caught your eye was a bookshelf as tall as the ceilin,g packed with books. 

You walked towards it. You ran your fingers along the various spines.

"Were you a librarian or something?" Luke asked you.

He placed your bags on the floor.

"No, I was a nurse. But I loved reading so much… I never had enough time for it."

"Well… all you have is time now." Luke sighed.

You pulled out a copy of War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy.

"I had a copy of this for years, but I never got around to reading it," you looked back at Luke, who was in your kitchen drinking a glass of water.

"Oh, sure, make yourself at home," you laughed, tossing the book on your coffee table. 

He chugged the rest of the water.

"Sorry, I haven't drunk anything all day," he coughed and hit his chest.

"There's food in your fridge by the way," Luke said, rinsing off the glass.

"Really?" 

"Yeah, I think they give everyone a fridge of their favorite foods when they first arrive."

Luke said it was as if it were a regular occurrence. The whimsy of this place must have worn off on him.

You opened the fridge. The first thing that drew your eye was a bottle of wine. A particular bottle of wine. Pinot Grigio, 1950. You drank it for the first time in 1986 when your husband took you on a trip to France. 

You took it out and looked at it carefully. The bottle looked the same, even down to the small rip on the wine's wrapper.

Tears swelled up in your eyes. Luke looked at you, slightly uncomfortable.

"Well… I should head back," he said to you.

You continued to stare at the wine bottle. 

He made his way past you, lightly touching the small of your back. It sent an electric shock through your entire body.

You put the bottle down and followed him out the front door.

"Are you gonna be at that party tonight?" You asked him as he made his way down the porch steps.

"What party?" He turned to look at you.

"I think it's like a celebration for the first snowfall that's supposed to happen tonight. I'm going. I hope I'll see you there," you rocked back and forth on your heels.

"Oh well, I'm not really a party guy," Luke sighed.

You instantly deflated.

It would have been nice to have at least one person you know at the event. It's not that you were socially awkward; it was just that you wanted someone who knew their way around. Luke seemed like the golden candidate. He must have been here a while, and he was your neighbor! You told yourself not to be too disappointed.

"Yeah, sorry, but have fun." He gave you a polite nod.

"See ya around then, neighbor!" You waved him goodbye. 

He got into the canoe and immediately started rowing. You watched him for a couple of moments before heading back inside. 

As soon as you closed the door, you burst into tears.

You hadn't cried since arriving at that station. Lilah had told you that some people never cry when the realization of death hits them. It's just a quiet embrace that there is now a new stage. You wondered if all the people you knew who died cried. Maybe it was your overly emotional nature showing up again. 

You sat on the plush couch that practically sank into the middle. Then you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

You must have cried so hard you slept because when you woke up, it was several hours later, and your face was damp.

You had rolled yourself into a little ball, a tick you had ever since you were a child. Every boyfriend you had (and eventually your husband) had made fun of you for it. You weren't sure why you did it. Your mother said it was you replicating yourself in her womb. 

Your children didn't do this particular tick, however. It was singular to you.

You stretched and looked around your cabin. It really was beautiful. More beautiful and spacious than you could ever afford in life. 

The party! You thought.

You were gonna be late to the celebration. You hadn't even unpacked your suitcases. You looked through everything and stopped when you saw a particular dress. A prairie dress, brown with small white flowers and lace details. You hadn't seen the dress in years… decades…

You took it out and ran your fingers over the lace trim. It must have been from the mid-70s. Your bohemian and hippie phase that your parents hated with a passion.

You put on the dress quickly and grabbed a pair of white heels that you could not remember having ever owned in your life. You wanted to do your hair and makeup, but decided just to leave it alone. It was the afterlife. Why were you worried about makeup?

You were always a punctual person in life. You always wanted to be at a place ten minutes early; it drove your husband and children crazy. Anxiety and dread always filled you when you would arrive at a place, and you were not the first one there. 

You forced yourself to walk slowly. You were always rushing and taking things fast in life; perhaps in death, you should take things slow. Despite your nerves screaming at you to rush, you took each step slowly. The sun was just beginning to set. You followed the cobblestoned path, looking around at the vast landscape before you. You heard an owl in the distance. You wondered if it was an owl that had died, and this was his heaven as well. You had tried asking Lilah about the intricacies of animal death, but she told you, "Not to worry about it."

You heard music in the distance, although you could not place the song this time around. You made it up the stairs slowly. As soon as you reached the terrace, you were greeted by someone handing you hot chocolate. You took the mug to warm up your hands. You sipped your hot chocolate and looked around.

It was then you saw him.

Standing in the corner, with an almost somber look on his face, was Luke. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand. He gazed around the room. Finally, the two of you made eye contact. You waved a little too eagerly. He bit back a smile.

You made your way through the crowd and over to him. He must be the tallest person in this whole place…

"Hi neighbor," you greeted.

"Hi," he greeted you back.

"I thought you weren't a party guy?" You joked.

"Yeah, well… I realized I didn't have a lot to do tonight, so…" he looked at the ice in his whiskey.

"Well, I'm glad I know at least one person here," you said, touching his arm.

A blush went to his ears. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by someone joining you two.

"Flower crown?" A woman in a uniform gave you a polite smile.

"Um… why a flower crown?" You asked, looking at the flowers

"Tonight's celebration is for the Slavic goddess Morana, who is the goddess of winter, death, and rebirth. The purple Crocus on the crown symbolizes rebirth, while the white Snowdrops symbolize death and the coming winter," She explained it all in a teacher-like tone. 

"That's morbid," Luke comments behind you, sipping what you assumed to be whiskey.

"Well, I'll take one, they're very beautiful." You said politely.

The woman placed the flower crown on your head. You thanked her, she gave Luke a hard look before leaving the two of you.

"Flower crowns aren't my thing," Luke explained to you.

You laughed, you took it off your head, and leaned up to put it on Luke. Despite his statement, he let you put it on him.

"Oh, now see, I think it looks lovely on you," you laughed, looking up at him.

"Yeah?" 

You nodded, "I would know I made many a flower crown in my day."

"Attention, tonight's festivities are about to begin!" A woman clapped her hands on the stage. 

Diane, the Mountain World president, looked physically older than you. She appeared to be in her early 50s. A thick British accent and a small frame. She had bright green eyes and a slim face. She dressed nicer than the other workers who were handing out drinks, food, and flower crowns. She seemed nice enough.

You wondered how long she had been here to be president. 

"Hey, you wanna go for a walk?" Luke whispered to you as Diane began her speech.

"Will we get in trouble?" You whispered back.

He shook his head. You bit your bottom lip before nodding. You linked your arm through his, and you both slowly walked away from the crowd.

"She gives pretty much the same speech every year; you really aren't missing out on much," he murmured.

His breath felt warm against the cold of your neck. 

"Do they do this at the start of every new season?" You asked him.

He nodded, "Believe me, after the eighth one, you'll be sick of it."

The two of you walked further and further away from the others, arms still linked together like an old married couple.

"You look nice, by the way," Luke comments, looking at your dress.

"Thank you! You look very nice as well."

He wasn't wearing a suit or a tux, but he still looked nice. A brown wool jacket, on top of what seemed to be a denim jacket, and a blue t-shirt. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

You both stopped to sit on a bench. You sat close, your knees touching. He was much warmer than you were.

"Sure."

You bit your bottom lip before looking at him. He was so handsome… You don't think you've ever met a more attractive man.

"Were you married?" You asked.

His calm features quickly changed. He looked away from you, his posture straightening. Your arms were still linked together. You touched his hand gently.

"I just asked cause, well, you asked me, so… I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude-"

"No, you're not rude… not at all… yeah, I was married and when I died in Korea… she remarried." He said each word painstakingly slow. 

There was a moment of silence.

"I waited for her," he muttered.

"What?"

"I waited for her… for sixty-seven years. Then uh… well, it didn't work out." His voice was raw, and he sounded as if he might cry.

He continued, "I don't think I knew her, we got married young, ya know. Then I died… so when I saw her again, she was different than this person I had imagined in my head, maybe it wasn't love, or maybe it wasn't just as deep a love as I thought it would be," he let out a shaky breath. 

You weren't sure what to say to him.

Well, that explained the time discrepancy. He had died in the 50s but had only been in Mountain World for 5 years. You had wanted to ask about it earlier on the canoe, but you decided against it.

"It was all just… a waste of time," he finished. He leaned back against the bench with a sigh.

"I don't think any form of loving someone can be a waste of time," you said after a few moments.

He looked at you, waiting for you to continue.

"I think love is just something that helps people grow. Even if the relationship doesn't work out, it doesn't mean it was a waste of time because you learn something. The love is an act that is innocent."

Just then, the snow started to fall. White, delicate crystals fell softly onto the ground. In the distance, you heard cheering and clapping. The music changed to a louder, more eccentric. You couldn't place the song; you wondered if they played this one every year as well. You laughed.

"They act like this isn't something that happens every few months," you laugh.

You turned your head to look at Luke. He was closer to you now than he was before; he was leaning his head down slightly to be closer to your face. Even sitting down, he was still taller than you. So obnoxious for a man to be tall even when sitting. A shiver went up your spine. A snowflake fell on your cheek, and he wiped it away. His fingers lingered on your cheek before pulling away.

"You cold?" He asked, still close to your face.

"Yeah," you answered.

You weren't that cold in truth, but you had very few winter clothes packed with you. When you were alive and in your late thirties, your husband got a job in Chicago. You had dealt with winter snowstorms before. The winter clothes you were forced to wear were not fashionable or cute; they were a necessity. Perhaps that's why those jackets and mittens never found their way into your closet here. They were not items you loved but rather items you needed.

You felt something wrap around you. Luke had taken off his brown leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

"I don't want you to be cold!" You objected, trying to shrug off his jacket.

"Stop, I have another one on. I was getting hot anyway." Luke waved you off.

It was quiet between you two for a couple of minutes. You glanced at him; he had a calm look on his face that made your heart beat faster. You wanted to sit in silence with him, but you heard loud yelling coming closer. You turned your head to see a man whooping and hollering towards you both. He was complexly naked, save for his snow boots. 

"Oh my-"

Luke covered your eyes. His hand could practically cover your whole face.

"Matt, do you have to do this every year?" Luke groaned out to the naked man.

"Hey, look who came out of his depression cave!" Matt said back to Luke.

"I think I'm gonna go home now," you said to Luke, his hand still covering your eyes.

"Matt, go behind the tree so she doesn't see it," Luke instructed.

"Luke, I had three children and worked in an ER. I have seen penis's before," you crossed your arms.

"Yeah, but you shouldn't have to see his," Luke said gently.

"What's wrong with mine?! You're just mad cause you want the first dick she sees here to be yours!" Matt protested. 

It was a good thing Luke had covered your eyes, 'cause his face and ears went bright pink with embarrassment. You frowned at the man's crude comment.

"Okay, I'm going home," you pushed Luke's hand from your face and began walking away from the two men.

"It's nice to meet you!" Matt called out to you.

You waved your hand back without turning around. Luke ran after you, catching up to you easily.

"He and some other people always streak during the first snowfall. It's stupid," he shook his head with a laugh.

"Have you done it?" You asked him.

"My mother raised me better," Luke answered, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Hm, well, your mother isn't here. If you want to strip, you definitely can; she will never know." You patted him on the shoulder.

"You're just trying to get my second jacket," Luke bit his lip and looked away from your smiling face.

"I'm quite warm in the one you gave me, actually," you wrapped the jacket around your frame tighter.

"You know you never answered my question from earlier today; why didn't you go to your husband's Eternity?"

You stopped walking and looked at him with an almost scowl. Why did he keep asking you that damn question?

"Why do you ask?" You try your best to be polite.

"I don't know, you were the one who was talking about how love isn't a waste, and everything. Did you not love your husband or something?"

Something about his tone of voice irritated you. Like he had a right to know everything about you and your life when you had met him covered in his own vomit. 

"I'm not judging you," Luke said, reaching out to touch your arm.

"Well, it sounds like you are," you snapped back.

He blinked in surprise at your mood shift. You scoffed and began walking away from him. He grabbed your arm and pulled you close to his chest. You blinked in surprise.

"I know you were alive in the 1940s, but women don't like being grabbed like this," you looked up at him.

"Some do," Luke whispered.

"I don't." You gritted your teeth.

He let his hand travel from your arm to around your waist. Despite yourself, you couldn't bring yourself to slap his hand away.

"My wife, when we came here together, she left for her second husband." Luke breathed out.

"How is that possible? I thought we weren't allowed to leave our Eternity?" You asked.

"I helped her escape. I think the workers know about it, but they can't prove it." Luke said to you.

You could see his breath now. The temperature had seemingly dropped by 20 degrees in the last 10 minutes. 

"You just met me… why are you telling me this?" You asked gently.

He stepped back from you, his hands in his pockets, and gave you a shrug.

"Because you're a good person," he said, his eyes starry, "I don't think you'll tell anyone."

As a nurse, people would confess things to you on their deathbeds. Horrible things.

"I cheated on my wife."

"I killed a man in '86 through a hit and run".

"My husband thinks our son is his, but it isn't."

When death was close, you wanted a clean conscience; you acted as a priest in most situations. Telling people it was okay and they were forgiven… even if they probably shouldn't be. So… you were used to keeping secrets. You would keep Luke's because he had entrusted it to you and only you.

"I'm really sorry, Luke," you choked out.

Luke's life seemed like a Greek Tragedy.

Dies young. Waits for his lover for 60 years. Changed her mind once she had already been with him. Sophocles was in some Eternity writing this exact scenario. 

You reached out and held his hand, squeezed it tight. He caressed your cheek.

Oh God… You thought.

You weren't that naive about how men acted when they tried to make a move. It appeared that even men who were born in the 1920s played by the same handbook.

Next, he's gonna tell me I'm beautiful. 

"You're really beautiful, ya know," he purred, his breath fanning your cheeks.

"Jesus," you could almost roll your eyes, but you wanted to be gentle.

You were likely the first woman—person who had shown him kindness without a hidden agenda. 

"Luke…" You put your hands on his chest and turned your head away from him.

"What?" He asked, genuinely confused. 

"I think we should be friends. I don't think this is… I don't think this is what you need right now," you said somewhat sternly.

He blinked. A thousand thoughts ran through his head, you were sure. 

You prepared for him to yell at you, call you a tease or a bitch, but he simply rolled his shoulder back and stood tall.

"Okay," he said after a few moments of silence.

You smiled warmly at him.

"Can I walk you back to your cabin?" He asked somewhat awkwardly.

Christ was this his first time being rejected?

"Wouldn't you rather stay for the rest of the party?" 

"Not really, I don't really care for fireworks."

You frowned, "Fireworks, they haven't lit any-"

Just as that moment, loud popping sounds screamed into the air and exploded. You jumped at the sudden noise. You looked up to see various fireworks painting the night sky. One was a snowman, another a snowflake.

Luke laughed at your reaction.

"I told you, you get used to all the parties after a while."

Your heart was beating hard against your ribcage. The two of you began to walk back to your cabins. 

"Very impressive fireworks, though I must say," you commented.

"Yeah, it's all very impressive," Luke said back with a smile.

------------------------------------------------------------

When you woke up the next morning, you panicked. You were not in your Illinois condo, the bed was too soft, and the wall did not have your family portraits. Then you remembered.

Right. Dead.

You stared up at the ceiling for a couple of moments. This was your new ceiling. For the rest of time.

You made your way out of bed slowly, like you did when you were alive. You stretched (you could stretch so easily now!) and yawned.

You made your way down the cabin stairs. You brewed a cup of coffee, poured it into one of your favorite mugs (you can’t believe you have all your mugs in the afterlife), and went outside.

The snow had left the yard and forest covered in a white blanket. The snow seemed to sparkle against the sun. You looked to see that the lake was completely frozen over. You sipped your coffee and watched a squirrel jump from tree to tree.

You could see Luke’s cabin perfectly from yours. The door to his cabin opened, and out came Luke in a black jacket and a wool hat. He sipped something from a can. He put the can down and began walking into the three feet of snow. He hadn’t noticed you watching him.

Getting on his hands and knees, Luke began shaping various balls of snow into a variety of shapes. He stepped back and looked down at what appeared to be a sculpture of a bunny rabbit. He frowned at it and groaned quite loudly. You saw his lips move, and he kicked the bunny until it was back into a blob of snow. He went back into remaking it.

It was so childlike the way he would be satisfied with his own small creations… cute and innocent the way he would smile when something came out the way he wanted.

You went back inside your cabin after watching him for what seemed to be an embarrassing amount of time. You leaned against your door and smiled to yourself. You ran upstairs to get dressed, looked in your closet, and really had to find a way to get some winter clothes. All you had that was appropriate for the weather was a multicolored striped turtleneck, dark brown boots, and dark wash flared jeans.

You went back downstairs and into your kitchen. A thought occurred to you, and you immediately preheated your oven.

Brownies. You hoped he liked chocolate…

You remembered your recipe perfectly. You and your grandchildren used to bake when they were younger, but they had grown out of it once they got cellphones.

When you finally finish, you let them cool for ten minutes before cutting them and putting them on a plate. You grabbed a jean jacket and closed the door behind you. You were tempted to just walk across the frozen lake, but you decided to follow the path to Luke’s cabin.

He was still outside. It had been almost three hours, and he didn’t even look tired. His cheeks and ears were a shade of light pink, but other than that, he seemed to be in his own world, not even registering the cold. He was talking to himself, but you couldn’t register what the hell he was saying.

He was near the bench that sat in front of the lake. He was sculpting what appeared to be a woman sitting on the bench, staring out at the lake.

“That’s not how her hair is,” you heard him say as you walked closer.

“Hello!” You called with a smile.

That seemed to have startled him out of his sculpture-induced psychosis because his eyes widened and he stumbled back onto his ass. Your eyes widened, and you rushed over to him, holding your plate of brownies tightly.

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to frighten you,” you gasped out.

“You did not frighten me, I’m a grown man,” Luke defended, still on the ground.

“Right.. of course…” You stifled a laugh.

He groaned and stood up, stretching his back.

“I brought you brownies,” you held out the plate to show him,

He looked down at the plate.

“Why?” He asked.

“I don’t know, I just thought it would be nice to make them for you.”

He took the plate from you and examined the brownies closely. You looked down at the statue on the bench.

The statue had her hands in her lap; she had no real facial features except for her hair, which seemed short.

“You gotta give her a friend,” you commented.

You looked back at Luke to see that he had already eaten three of the brownies, chocolate covering his lips as he stuffed them into his mouth. His cheeks were puffed out like a baby's. You covered your mouth so as not to burst out laughing.

“Thewy’re gwood,” he said, his mouth still full.

“Well, I’m glad you like them,” you smiled.

He finally swallowed the cement of chocolate and rubbed his mouth on his sleeve. He handed you back the plate of brownies. There were still some on the plate, something told you Luke could probably stuff all of them into his mouth in one go.

“What do you mean she needs a friend?” Luke asked you looking at his sculpture.

“Well, it would be nice if she were sitting with someone, don’t you think? So they can talk,” you shrugged.

He thought for a moment. He grabbed a chunk of snow, and he began sculpting a man for his snow woman. You watched in amazement.

“You’re really good,” you said, watching him form a hat for his snowman.

“Eh, I’ve just been doing it a lot, helps clear my head,” Luke comments.

“I could barely do a snowman, and you’ve done deer! That’s amazing,” you reassured.

He stepped back next to you. You both looked at the snow couple.

The man was sitting close to the woman, with her head now resting on his shoulder. The man’s eyes were closed, and he had a smile. The women’s eyes were open, and she smiled as well, wider than the men's. It was like they were having their own little conversation.

“I don’t know if I like it,” Luke said, his hand under his chin, examining the sculpture.

“It’s cute! They’re lovers in the snow,” you defended.

He glanced at you. He looked down at the plate of brownies.

“These are fucking incredible by the way,” he took another brownie off the plate.

“Thank you, it’s an old family recipe,” you beamed.

“Should have been a baker while you were alive,” Luke bites into the warm brownie, not caring about the chocolate chips spilling onto his hands.

“Yeah, well, I enjoyed being a nurse. I like taking care of people,” you looked back at the snow couple.

“You’re good at it,” Luke smiled softly at you.

You looked back at him. No one had ever actually told you that before. In your 73 years of being alive, no one had ever told you that you were good at anything. Not a good wife, a good nurse, a good mother… You came to the conclusion that you were painfully average.

“Really?” You asked like a child.

“Yeah, you are. I bet you were a good wife when you were with your husband,” he licked the chocolate off his fingers.

You swallowed.

“I don’t think I was… if I were a good wife, I would feel more sad about not being with him for all eternity…” You looked down at your plate of brownies.

“Hey, aren’t I supposed to be the one who’s sad about their marriage?” he pinched your cheek.

You laughed and pushed his hand away.

“You let him go down his own path… that’s a very admirable thing to do… if anything, he’s a bad husband for not waiting for you!” Luke scoffed.

“Oh no, he was fine. It was ten years we were apart…”

You stopped yourself. This was Luke, who waited 67 years for his wife. Your husband couldn’t even last a whole week waiting for you. Lilah had told you he picked his afterlife in just three days! Three!

The wind blew, and a shiver went up your spine.

“Let's go inside,” Luke said to you, gently, his hand on the small of your back.

You nodded.

He had cleaned his cabin since yesterday. You could actually see the floor now, which was nice. You put the brownies on the coffee table. Luke threw some logs of wood into the fireplace and lit a match. The fire immediately started. You held out your hands and let out a dreamy sigh. Luke gave you a soft smile before walking into the kitchen.

“You really gotta get some winter clothes,” Luke commented from the kitchen.

“I know,” you rubbed your hands together.

“Why don’t you just order them from the catalogues?” Luke asked.

You turned to look at him. He was pouring two glasses of whiskey.

“What catalogues?” You frowned.

He looked up at you. He finished pouring the two glasses. He came into the living room and put the two glasses on the coffee table next to the brownies. You watched as he opened a drawer and plopped a large book on the couch. You sat down on the couch and flipped the book open to the first page.

BUILD YOUR DREAM WARDROBE FOR ALL OF TIME! 

“You just circle what you want, and it can get delivered in like two days,” Luke said, sitting next to you, drinking his whiskey.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, flipping through the book.

It was massive, spanning from the 1900s all the way to the 2020s.

“If you want something from earlier in time, it’s like a separate book that they give you. You just circle and tear out the pages, put them in the mailbox,” Luke explained.

“Groovy,” you smiled, flipping to the section titled 1970s.

“I don’t think people say that anymore,” Luke said as he sipped his whiskey.

“Yeah, that’s what my grandkids said, but I like it,” you shrugged.

Luke handed you a pen, and you graciously accepted it.

“I recognize some of the stuff in here… I wanted a Penny Lane coat so badly, but I could never afford the actual nice ones,” you showed Luke a picture of a model in a brown leather Penny Lane coat.

The coat had cream fur. You weren’t sure if it was real or fake fur, but you didn’t even care. You drew a big heart around it and tore out the page.

“I feel like a teenager,” you said bashfully.

Luke laughed.

He watched as you drew hearts around various items.

A bluish-grey jacket with fur on the sleeve cuffs and hood. A purple suede maxi dress with embroidered daisies on the end of the skirt. A denim jumpsuit with a heart cut out on the upper back. Gogo boots… so many gogo boots.

“Ya know this is all gonna have to fit in your closet,” Luke looked down at your pile of torn-out pages.

His head was leaning against his hand as he watched you.

“I can make room. A woman always needs a wide variety of shoes.”

“But you’re just picking the same pair of boots, but in different colors,” Luke grabs one of the pages and looks at it skeptically.

“They’re not the same! This one has laces, and this one doesn’t! This one has a higher heel than this one!” You moved closer to him to explain the intricate differences between each of the boots.

“Oh, I see, I see,” he said plainly. 

“Oh, shush, it’s my eternity, and I wanna dress how I never got too in life,” you took the pages from him.

“You should order stuff too…” You look at his clothes skeptically.

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?” Luke asked, offended.

“Nothing. Many people find lumberjacks very attractive.” You shrugged and went back to the book.

“You take that back!” He took the book from you.

“No man should have six different plaid shirts, it's not necessary!”

“Says the woman who just circled like eight of the same boots!”

“They’re not the same!”

The two of you continued bickering until Luke eventually gave in and agreed to order new clothes. You moved closer to him and watched over his shoulder as he flipped the book back to 1940.

“No do 50’s at least!” You said hitting his shoulder.

Without much pushback, he flipped to the 1950s.

He would point to certain clothing items, looking to you on if he should get them or not. The two of you sat snuggled together as the fire burned, looking at sports coats.

“God, I forgot how ugly 1950s fashion was,” you scrunched up your face at the plaid jacket.

“Well, you were a kid through the ’50s, so that’s probably why,” Luke pointed to a green sweater with big black buttons.

You nodded, and he circled it.

“Don’t get anything in blue,” you said when he tried to circle an argyle blue sweater.

“Why?”

“Your eyes are blue, it clashes. You should wear warmer-toned colors,” you suggested.

He blinked his bright blue eyes at you.

“I like blue,” he said with a frown.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, just do a darker shade of blue, then nothing too bright.”

“But you said I should wear warmer tones. Isn’t bright blue a warmer tone?”

“No, you should do earthly tones if you’re gonna do blue.”

“How do you know this?” Luke asked you.

“I don’t know… It’s color theory. Also, my youngest daughter went to fashion school, so she kinda just told me all the colors.” You shrugged.

“Was she a fashion designer?” Luke asked genuinely interested.

“Yeah… my other daughter is a teacher, and my son is a chef,” you explained to him.

“You must be very proud of them,” Luke looked back at the catalogue.

“Is it strange that I don’t like to think about them?” You asked sheepishly.

He looked back at you.

“What?”

“I don’t like thinking about them, it just… it makes me too sad… I dwell on how they are and what they're doing and how my grandchildren are, and it just… it makes me too sad. I can’t go to that memory theater thing, I think I would just… break down and sob.” You laughed, but Luke had a grave look on his face.

“I’m sorry for asking, I didn’t… I didn’t want you to think you can’t talk about it with me…” Luke whispered, rubbing a stray tear from your face.

When had you started crying?

“No, no, it’s fine… God, you must think I’m a horrible mother,” you rubbed your eyes.

“I don’t think that,” Luke said, touching your hand.

He was so warm. God, you told him literally last night that you two should just stay friends, and you knew in your heart that it was the right thing, but all you wanted right now was for him to lie on top of you and kiss you all over. Your entire body felt too hot… God the last time you had sex was during Obama’s first administration.

Suddenly, a knock on the door startled both of you.

You looked at Luke.

“Were you expecting anyone?”

Luke looked at you, “You’re like the only person I’ve had a conversation with in almost three years.”

“Okay, well… that’s concerning,” you noted.

Luke got up and moved towards the door. You trailed behind him, curious. He opened the door to reveal Diane, the Mountain World president, smiling with a manila folder clutched to her chest. You peeked behind Luke’s shoulder to look at the woman.

“Well, Hello Luke!” Diane said with a warm smile.

She glanced over at you, peeking over Luke’s shoulder.

“And our newest member, how lovely to see you,” Diane acknowledged

“What do you want?” Luke asked, irritated.

You elbowed his side.

“Hello, Madam President,” you greeted.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, just call me Diane dear,” She laughed and waved you off.

She didn’t acknowledge Luke’s comment.

“I was looking for you, but then you weren’t at home, so I thought I would try here,” Diane said with an easy smile.

“Why would you try here?” Luke asked.

Diane turned to look at him, finally acknowledging his presence.

“Well, Linda said she saw you two walk off during the party,” Diane explained.

Who the fuck was Linda? You thought.

“Well, anyway, may I steal you for a moment for a quick chat?” Diane turned back to you.

“Oh… Um, sure, okay,” you touched Luke’s arm gently to silently signal that you would be back.

You and Diane walked further from Luke’s cottage together. You could feel his eyes on you the whole way. You turned back for a moment and gave him a little wave. He nodded back at you.

“Are you liking it here so far? Do you like your cabin?” Diane asked you. She stopped walking to lean against a tree.

“Oh yes! It’s wonderful. Everyone is really nice, I am so grateful to be here!” You put your hands behind your back so the woman could not see you fidgeting.

“Well, good, I’m glad. This is your eternal salvation, and it’s important that you enjoy it,” Diane said, opening up the manila folder with her.

“You were a nurse for almost 45 years, that’s quite impressive. You helped a lot of people when you were alive,” Diane read from the folder.

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you remained quiet.

“You took care of so many people. Your husband, when he got sick, thousands of patients, your children, your grandchildren…”

“Well, I like taking care of people,” You commented.

She glanced up at you, then back down at the folder.

“No one took care of you, though. You died while serving a neighbor boy some tea,” she flipped a page in the folder.

Jerome. A sweet boy, he would come by every week to help you around the house. He was a Boy Scout, but you liked to think he did enjoy talking with you.

“Well, yes… but he helped me quite a lot this past year-“

“I just don’t want you to spend all of eternity taking care of someone else. You did that enough in life. I believe it’s time to take care of you,” Diane closed the folder and held it to her chest.

You were quiet for a moment before speaking again, “By someone, do you mean Luke?”

She took a sharp exhale.

“We’re friends, I enjoy his company, I don’t… I don’t baby him…”

Perhaps you did… a little… You did bake him brownies without him asking. You helped him even at your first meeting when he was face down in his own vomit. But he helped you as well! He rowed you across the lake, he walked home with you last night… he helped you pick out clothes!

“Good, he is a grown man; he does not need you fussing over him,” Diane scolded lightly.

Maybe you liked fussing over Luke. That was just a personality. You were a fusser!

“Well I won’t take up any more of your time, have a wonderful rest of your day,” Diane squeezed your arm gently.

You know she was just trying to be nice. It was her job to make sure everyone in this afterlife was happy and taken care of. She wasn’t trying to be cruel, but it sure did feel like she was telling you what to do.

You walked back to Luke’s cabin slowly, unsure of what to even say to him about the meeting. Perhaps you should just keep it to yourself…

Luke was sitting on the snow-covered grass. He was building a small snowman, muttering something to himself. You watched him for a moment before getting closer.

He looked up at you.

“What did she want?” Luke asked.

You shrugged and sat down next to him in the snow.

“She was just checking in to make sure I was okay since I’m new and all,” you replied.

Technically not a lie.

He nodded and poked two sticks into the small snowman’s sides.

“What’s this little guy's name?” You asked

“They don’t have names,” Luke stated.

You frowned, “How mean of you! They all need names. Names are our first identities. Come on, a no-name choice is bad.”

“Okay… how about Frosty?” Luke suggested.

“No, that’s terrible,” you scowled.

“You just said no name was bad!” Luke laughed, throwing his arms up in the air, exasperated.

“Well, don’t be cliché about it… How about Francis? That’s a good name for him, he seems dapper,”

Luke sculpted what appeared to be a top hat and placed it on the snowman’s head.

“Oh, see, he looks so cute. Doesn’t he look like a Francis?” You asked Luke.

“I don’t know what a Francis looks like, so I’ll take your word for it,” Luke replied.

The rest of the afternoon was spent naming the various snow sculptures Luke had made. He wasn’t creative with his names, but he did try. When the sun was beginning to set, you bade him goodbye. Carrying the pages of clothes to your chest.

Diane was probably right. You shouldn’t spend all your time taking care of and spending time with Luke… but you liked it. Why should you have to change a core part of yourself just because you were dead? You enjoyed taking care of people; it gave you meaning and purpose. If it weren’t Luke, it would be someone else.

You were happy it was Luke, though. He needed it more than the others…

------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, your clothes had arrived. Almost twenty boxes worth of winter clothes were left on your front porch; surprisingly, they were not too heavy to bring into your home. You opened all the boxes as quickly as possible, giggling to yourself as the tissue paper the clothes were wrapped in flew through your living room.

You looked at the chocolate brown jacket you had been gushing over. Suede with a fur collar and fur cuffs that were the softest things you had ever touched. This was a coat that needed to be seen by the entire population of Mountain World. You put on a wool plaid skirt that also came with your shipment and a pair of black boots.

As you were about to leave the house, you caught your reflection in the mirror. It was still weird to see yourself so young. You poked at your supple cheek. Part of you wondered if you were just dreaming, maybe in some coma. Perhaps you had imagined Luke. Maybe he was a doctor; he was speaking to you, and your brain had taken his words and formed a new version of him.

It seemed plausible… You shook your head. You didn’t want to think like that. It was too depressing.

Maybe you should stop looking at yourself in the mirror. You read it was bad for people's self-esteem.

You grabbed your copy of War and Peace and left the cabin. You considered checking in on Luke but decided against it. However, it nagged at your brain the entire walk to the snow slopes. Your heart hammered into your chest as you walked up the balcony steps.

A few people were sitting at various tables. Talking over coffee and cigarettes and multiple stacks of pancakes. You sat by yourself at a table facing near the top of the mountain. You didn’t mind being by yourself; you were pretty used to it, even when you were alive. You were never the type of person who had a big friend group. You knew many people in your life, even traveling with fellow Bohemians around the West Coast when you were 17, but you didn’t think of them as friends, just people you smoked pot with. You were social, you could talk to anyone about anything, but often you felt people lost interest in you. You only had three real friends in your life, and one of them was a childhood pet, and the other was the person you were married to…

You pushed the thoughts out of your head and cracked open your book. You managed to get another thirty pages into War and Peace before you were interrupted.

“Hey, how’s the book?”

You looked up to see Luke’s comforting face. He was wearing a ski suit and a red-and-white beanie that looked handmade. He had a small smile on his face. He lifted his goggles so you could see his bright blue eyes, sparkling in the sun.

“Hi,” you greeted him.

For some reason, his presence seemed to relax you.

“Hi,” he greeted back.

“How’s the book?” He asked once more.

“Oh! It’s good so far I like Pierre I think he’s my favorite character,” You dog eared the page and shut the book.

He sat across from you, leaning his snowboard against the rail that overlooked the mountains.

“You snowboard?” You nodded at the snowboard.

“Yeah I mean I haven’t done it in a while but I thought I would try doing it again. Fresh snow and all.”

His cheeks were pink, but you weren’t sure if that was because he was embarrassed or because of the cold.

“Hi Luke,” a trio of women greeted him as they walked by the table.

They did not greet you. The blonde of the group waved at him, and Luke awkwardly saluted back.

“Do you know them?” You asked Luke.

“I mean— Not like well like I know them—but like okay not know I just um they… yeah I know them.” He cleared his throat and sank deeper into the chair.

You watched him squirm, avoiding your gaze. Luke was saved by a waiter coming over to the table.

“Would either of you like to order anything to drink or eat?”

“Oh, um…” You hadn’t even looked at the menus on the table.

You opened it quickly and were hit with various items in cursive writing. It always took you forever to order at restaurants, which irritated your husband greatly.

“She’ll get an espresso martini and an order of the French toast, extra fruit, and I’ll just get a water,” Luke ordered.

The waiter wrote the order down quickly and walked off. You looked at Luke.

“How did you know I like French toast?” You asked.

He shrugged, “You mentioned it yesterday, remember? When we talked about foods we were excited to eat again, now that calories and blood sugar aren’t a thing anymore.”

You thought back. Right… you did have that conversation… how did he remember that and you didn’t?

“I’ve never had an espresso martini before,” you said to him.

“You’ll like it. I was a bartender for like 60 years, I can tell what type of drink people order or will like,” He scratched at the wood of the table.

“What happens if I don’t like it?” You asked.

He thought for a moment, “I don’t know, guess I'll just die.”

“That’s not funny!” You pouted, hitting him on the arm.

He cracked a wide smile. He leaned on his palm on the table and gazed at you.

“So what’s your drink?” You asked, leaning close to him.

“I drink everything,” he comments.

“Well, okay, but you have a favorite! Let me guess… whiskey? Bourbon?”

“All bourbon is whiskey, but not all whiskey is bourbon,” Luke explained to you.

“Really? Hm okay… um…”  You didn’t know that many drinks.

“Beer?” You furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“All men like beer, but not really, no,” Luke laughed at your expression.

“Fuck, I don’t know, just tell me.”

“Cognac,” Luke finally answered.

“I don’t know what that is,” you blinked.

“It’s French,” he replied.

“I’m sure.”

Your food and drinks came a moment later. The French toast was the prettiest you had ever seen, fluffy golden brown with a drizzle of maple syrup, with a side of the most red strawberries and the most dazzling blueberries. Your mouth started to water.

“My God,” you whispered.

“See, I wouldn’t steer you wrong!” Luke laughed, popping a blueberry into his mouth.

You took a sip of the espresso martini, and your eyes grew wide.

Luke smiled somewhat smugly. You almost wanted to say it was disgusting to prove him wrong, but you would be betraying yourself. You downed the whole thing in three gulps.

“Hey, hey, easy now, those things are strong,” Luke said, taking the already empty glass from you.

“I’m a big girl,” you commented back, already feeling the alcohol burn your empty stomach.

He looked at you warily before finishing off his water.

“I’m gonna go, I promised some people I’d meet them at the top of the mountain… don’t drink too much, you can get drunk here,” Luke cautioned.

You waved him off c,utting into your French toast. He bid you goodbye, taking his snowboard with him. You watched him leave. Just when he was put out of sight, you waved over your waiter.

“How many of these are you allowed to give me?” You asked him.

“As many as you would like,” the waiter smiled.

“Okay, I need you to bring me one every time my glass is empty, okay?” You waved the glass around.

He nodded and took the glass from you. He turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm.

“Wait, one more thing,”

“Yes?”

“Can I get a cheeseburger, please? With lots of onions?” You pouted.

The waiter laughed, “Yes, ma’am.”

Hours blurred together as did your vision. Your book was discarded, as were your shoes. You weren’t sure how much you had eaten, but it was more than you had ever eaten in your entire 73 years of being alive. Cheeseburger, a slice of cheesecake with raspberry drizzle, two orders of French toast, a fruit salad, Sauerbraten with a side of mashed potatoes and asparagus, a hot dog with ketchup, and 9 going on 10 espresso martinis. You were holding the waiter hostage in conversation.

“I knew an Allen when I was alive? You don’t look like him, though,” you slurred, holding his hand.

“I’ve been dead for 500 years, so it wasn’t me,” the waiter replied somewhat blandly.

“Were you married? I was married for a long time, he’s in the beach heaven or something I was gonna go, but I don’t think it would have been a good—“ you hiccuped.

“Ma’am, I have other tables-“

“My mother never liked him, but my father did, and I think that’s why I married him,” you held the waiter's hand close to your chest to prevent him from leaving.

“Hey kid… You alright?”

You and the waiter turned to look at Luke. He was slightly sunburnt on his nose and had a tan around his eyes where his goggles didn’t cover. Another man, a little shorter than him, stood next to him with a snowboard at his hip.

“Luke! Do you wanna finish this grilled cheese?” You asked to let go of the waiter's hand.

The waiter took this as an opportunity to bolt away from you.

“Steven, I’ll see you later.” Luke patted the other man on the shoulder.

Steven gave him a polite smile and waved goodbye. You waved back obnoxiously. Luke kneeled before you and examined your face.

“How much did you drink?” He asked.

You pulled on his left ear and giggled.

“Dumbo,” you sang to him.

He blinked.

“Oh my God, did you die before watching Dumbo?” You asked, cupping your hands around his ears.

His ears were cold. You frowned at this.

“I have seen Dumbo,” he replied.

“But I've been, done, seen about everything, when I see a elephant fly” you sang close to his face.

“Okay, wow, I am taking you home,” he muttered.

“I want one more martini,” you let go of his ears and looked for your martini glass.

“I think you had enough,” Luke shook his head.

“I've had ten, which sounds like a lot-“

“That’s a lot.”

“No, it’s not!” You cried out, poking him in the stomach.

Luke put your arm over his shoulder, he helped you stand, and caught you by your waist when you stumbled. Your legs gave out from under you. He managed to keep you standing somehow.

“Wow, you’re a strong guy,” you said, looking up at him.

“Thank you,” he laughed awkwardly.

“Wait! My bill! I have to pay!” You cried out, reaching into your pockets.

“It’s free, remember?” Luke furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“Right, I’m dead…” You whispered.

He grabbed your book and stuffed it into the deep pockets of his snowsuit. As he began walking with you, he noticed your feet dragging along.

“This isn’t gonna work,” he muttered.

He was carrying you like one of his fellow troops. You were not a wounded soldier, you were a drunk young (old) woman. Finally, he decided to lift you up and throw you over his shoulder. You let out a “wee” and threw your arms out like a bird.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked him after a few minutes of him carrying you home.

“No, of course not,” Luke answered, letting out a small huff of air.

“Don’t be mad at me,” you cried, running your hands up and down his back as a way of calming him down.

It sent shivers up his spine, but he didn’t say anything.

“I like it here,” you said, looking up at the bare trees.

Luke didn’t reply. He held on to you tightly as you squirmed in his arms.

“Stop moving, I don’t want to drop you,” he said gravely.

You muttered something and quit moving.

Finally, both of you reached your cabin.

“Home sweet home,” Luke said, opening the door.

However, with the way you were situated over his shoulder, you hit your head on the door frame.

“Ow!” You cried out.

“Fuck,” he muttered, putting you down and holding your face in his hands.

Your body fell forward. He brushed the hair out of your face and looked at you.

“Sorry, you okay?” He asked tenderly.

“My head hurts,” you pouted at him.

“From the alcohol or the doorframe?” Luke asked.

“Both,” you slapped his chest.

God, he had a nice chest…

“Come on, let me get you to bed,” Luke held your waist.

You gestured up the stairs to your bedroom.

“I don’t put out that easily, so don’t get any funny ideas, mister,” you poked his cheek.

Your legs felt like they were made of Jelly; they wobbled with each step.

“Well, you’re incredibly drunk, so that was not what was going through my head anyway,” Luke said, holding your waist tighter so you wouldn’t fall.

“If we were alive at the same time, you probably wouldn’t have looked my way. Men didn’t flirt with me a lot, I only had one boyfriend before my husband, ya know,” you explained drunkenly to him.

He was quiet, so you kept talking. He was learning that you were even more chatty when you were drunk.

“I had sex with a couple of guys though, ya know, with I was a hippie and free love and all that, but I think they just wanted someone to fuck. I don’t think they liked me all that much. I kinda just did it to feel someone on me.” Your eyes glazed over as you both finally made it to your room.

“I’m sure they liked you,” Luke said, helping you with your jacket.

“No… they didn’t, but I didn’t really like them either, so I guess it’s fine.”

Your fingers were intertwining with his as you both unbuttoned your jacket. Luke tried to ignore how soft your hands were against his.

When you finally got your jacket off, you let out a sigh of relief. You unzipped your skirt and threw it in the corner. Left in only your boots, underwear, and a white long-sleeved shirt, you walked slowly to your bed.

Luke looked away as you sat on the plush mattress with a slight huff. You pulled on your boot, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Do you need help?” Luke asked.

You nodded in embarrassment. He gave you a half smile before getting on his knees in front of you. He lifted your boot against his stomach and began to unzip it. You placed your hand on his head.

He stopped unzipping your boot and looked up at you. You gave him a tender smile, entirely innocent to how this looked. He felt the back of his neck begin to sweat.

“You’re perfect,” Luke whispered, looking down at your shoe.

“What?” You asked him.

“Nothing…” he finished, unzipping your shoe and quickly making work of your other one.

You removed your hand from the top of his head and pushed yourself back towards the headboard. Luke remained kneeling for a few moments before standing.

“Can you stay with me till I fall asleep?” You asked, pulling a blanket up to your neck.

“Sure,” he nodded, pulling a chair up next to your bed.

You lay down and looked at him, batting your eyelashes.

“I bet women would chase after you when you were alive… and dead,” you sighed.

A blush bloomed on his cheeks. “Oh, I guess.”

He looked away from you, clearly embarrassed.

“Don’t shave your mustache anymore,” you frowned, looking at his face.

He had shaved it, again, you just now noticed in your drunken state.

You reached out your hand and touched just above his upper lip. He froze. You pulled your hand away after a couple of seconds of stroking the bare skin.

“Okay, fine, I won’t shave it,” he swallowed.

“Yay,” you giggled.

“If…” he began and then stopped himself.

“If what?” You asked.

He might as well say it. There was a decent chance you weren’t even gonna remember this the next morning.

“If we were alive at the same time, I would have noticed you. I think I would have liked you very much,” Luke said, covering your hand with his.

You laughed and rolled your eyes. He frowned at your reaction.

“You wouldn’t have, but that’s okay. At least I met you now,” you whispered to him.

“Can I say something and you won’t judge me for it?” You asked him.

He nodded.

You wet your lips before speaking.

“I don’t think my husband was the love of my life,” you covered your face with both your hands.

“Why would I judge you for that?” Luke asked, slightly confused.

“Well, wasn’t Joan the love of your life?” You asked him back.

He swallowed. He had forgotten he had mentioned Joan’s name in passing to you.

“Well… yeah, I guess she was,” he thought.

“That’s so beautiful, you had this epic, tragic love story, and all I have… are just normal, small moments. When he died, I was sad, but it wasn’t even the saddest I had ever felt…” You blinked back tears and stared at the wall.

“What was the saddest?” Luke asked.

He took your hand in his and interlocked your fingers with his. A silent gesture that felt as if he was holding onto you for dear life so you could not drift away from him.

“It’s a little pathetic but… I had a dog named Lily as a kid. I loved her so much, she was this chocolate lab, ya know, she was so beautiful, she slept in my room every night and waited up for me when I came home from school. When I moved away from home, she came with me. I took her on my hippie van and… we just went everywhere together, and then I met my husband.

And ya know, he was allergic to dogs, and it was okay for a while, but when we moved in together, it became a real problem. He said it was him or the dog, and I chose him… I sent Lily to live with my parents. A couple of months later, she died, hit by a car. I remember I couldn’t even leave bed for two days I didn’t eat or drink all I did was sleep and cry over that dog. I think that dog was the first thing I ever loved and the first thing I ever lost.”

You wanted to pull your hand back from Luke’s, but he wouldn’t let you. He just held your hand tighter.

“I was a good wife, Luke. I really- I did so much for him… I don’t want you to think I was a bad wife,” you cried.

The tears couldn’t be stopped. The tears rolled down your cheeks and stained your pillow. Luke finally let go of your hand, and you covered your face once more, feeling disgusted. He hated you. He thought you were pathetic, a loser, a selfish bitch who missed some dog more than her husband. You were sickening. You didn’t belong in a beautiful afterlife; you belonged in the fire depths of some hell, where all the most evil people in the world go.

You felt the bed dip beside you. You removed your hands from your damp face and saw Luke lying down next to you. His clothes discarded, he was left in his boxers and a white undershirt. Before you could admire how strong his thighs were or how muscular his calves looked, or even really register that he was almost naked in your bedroom, he pulled you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly. He rubbed his thumb over your shoulder. You couldn’t remember the last time someone held you so tightly.

No one has ever held you so tightly.

“I’m sorry,” you swallowed, trying to pull away from him.

He wouldn’t let you.

“Come on, don’t do that, don’t apologize to me, okay?” He spoke into your hair.

You nodded, but you still couldn’t stop crying. You inhaled his smell; you wanted to put his scent in memory.

“You’re a good person, ya know, I knew that the moment I met you,” Luke rubbed your back in small circles.

You didn’t say anything, not sure if you genuinely believed it.

“I don’t think you have it in you to be mean… your life would have been easier if you did, but you’re not…”

You looked up at him and sniffed.

“I don’t think you’re mean either,” you whispered.

He wiped a falling tear from your cheek, “I can be… but I wouldn’t be to you.”

“We haven’t known each other that long, you don’t know that.”

“I would never be mean to you… I couldn’t do it.”

He held your face in his hands like you were made of fine china. He didn’t want to break you.

He leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

Gentle. So, so gentle.

His lips lingered on your forehead.

“If we were alive at the same time, I would have married you in a second,” he swallowed hard, holding you even tighter to him.

You were now lying on top of him. You liked being on top of him like this, although part of you worried you might smother him by accident, but something told you that Luke would welcome that.

“At least we’re dead at the same time... well, kinda.” You smiled, almost hopeful.

He laughed at that. Not a full belly laugh, but an easy-going laugh that made his smile almost shine. You could stare at Luke’s smile for the rest of your time. Just the two of you in a room staring at one another.

You leaned forward, moving to kiss him; you yearned for your lips to connect. To taste him. However, in your drunken state, you missed and laid a kiss on his nose. Luke seemed not to catch on that this was a mistake because when you pulled away, he kissed your nose back.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to try to lay a kiss on him when your entire world was spinning.

You lay your head in the crook of his neck and shut your eyes. Luke murmured a song into the top of your head, but you could not recognize it. It managed to drift you off to sleep, and you welcomed it with open arms.

The next morning, you woke up alone with a major headache. Hangovers existed here… right… What a stupid thing to have still exist in heaven. You were tucked into bed with an array of pillows around you. You turned to look at your dresser to see a note, a glass of water, and a pill.

You grabbed the note and read it.

BE RIGHT BACK. DRINK THIS & TAKE THIS ITS ASPRIN. DONT LEAVE CABIN! - LUKE

You read it again and blinked in confusion. You realized he misspelled aspirin…. How did he even get aspirin?

You downed the water and swallowed the pill. You wondered for a moment if you could smoke weed here. You hadn’t smoked weed in almost 40 years…. You wondered if you should ask about it.

You felt bile burn your throat, and you ran to the toilet. Throwing up for a solid 29 seconds. No room for a breath, just vomit. You wiped your mouth and then looked at your throw-up, not even being able to tell what any of the specs of food even were.

You decided to brush your teeth and take a shower. Your headache was pounding less, but you still felt it. The warm water soothed an ache in your back. For a while, you just stayed under the shower until the entire bathroom filled with steam.

You grabbed an old Diana Ross shirt you got at a concert in the '80s and a fresh pair of underwear before going down the steps of your cabin. You grabbed an apple and a box of Lucky Charms. You eat the cereal with no mil,k choosing to just pour it into your mouth.

You lie on the couch watching an episode of Happy Days on your TV. Apparently, the TV played all your favorite television shows on repeat. Neat.

There was a knock on your door interrupting your lazy daze. You got up, not even bothering to put on pants, and you opened the door to see Luke in his snowsuit. He breathed heavily and had a wide smile on his face. His face was red once more, but you weren’t sure if it was from sunburn or just from the cold.

It was snowing again, small white flakes fell from the sky, covering the already blanket of snow covering the grass.

“Get dressed, I gotta show you something,” He huffed out.

You blinked, “What?”

“Just… just get dressed! Put on pants, come on, it’s really important!” He said, jumping up and down.

“Alright, Jesus, just… give me a second.” You waved him off.

You made your way upstairs and put on a pair of sweatpants that you had no idea you even had. You threw on one of your new jackets, a blue trench coat with black star buttons. The inside of the coat was lined with soft wool and fur. You put on some tennis shoes you knew to be from your older years; comfortable and reliable.

You slowly made your way down the stairs.

“Come on!”

Luke grabbed your hand and pulled you outside.

“Luke, slow down, you’re gonna pull my arm out of its socket,” you laughed at his frantic movements.

Finally, he stopped and turned around to you. He put his hands on your arms that were at your sides. He gave you a cheesy grin. You were in a part of the woods between the trail that led to his cabin.

“Okay, close your eyes,” he bit his bottom lip.

“What? Why?” You asked with a frown.

“Come on, please?” He squeezed your arms gently.

You sighed but followed his instructions, shutting your eyes.

He let go of your arms, and you could hear him walk away, his heavy foot steps crackling in the snow. There were moments of quiet; all you could hear was the wind and the sound of a hawk. You clutched your hands together to stop your nervousness.

“Okay! Open your eyes!” Luke called.

You opened them to see him a few feet away from you. In his arms… a chocolate lab. The lab was a decent size, Luke was holding it like it was a puppy but the dog had to have been at least five years old.

You blinked, your face conforming into several different expressions. Luke put the dog down and whistled. That sent the dog running towards you, tackling you to the ground. The air was getting knocked out of your lungs, the dog's wet tongue kissed your cheeks and parts of your chin. You pushed its face away before properly looking at it.

It took you a moment. It had been almost 50 years, but you recognized the small patch of darker hair in the center of her chest that formed into what looked like a flower. The mark being how she got her name

Lily.

“Lily?” You questioned.

The dark barked as if to answer your question. She spun around in a circle, excited, her drool dripping from her mouth.

“Lily!” You cried out, hugging the dog.

She barked once more and licked the outer shell of your ear.

“Oh, sweet girl, I missed you so much!” You kissed her face and scratched behind her ear.

Lily fell on her back to signal she wanted you to scratch her stomach. She always did like that.

“Hello, my girl, hello, hello, hello,” you giggled, scratching her stomach in a circle.

Luke walked closer to the two of you, his hands stuffed in his pockets. A tender smile on his warm features.

“How did… how did… how?” You couldn’t form a thought.

Lily lay her head on your lap, content just to be near you.

“Someone owed me a favor, but it took them forever to find her. Apparently, all dogs do go to heaven. I had her smell one of your t-shirts, and when she did, she went crazy. Barking, spinning around in a circle, and jumping up on me. She missed you a lot,” Luke scratched the top of Lily’s head.

Lily let out a breath through her nose, approving of Luke’s story.

“This is… I don’t… oh my God, Luke!” You cried, tackling him to the ground.

Lily barked at both of you and wagged her tail.

He was about to speak (no doubt about to say something cocky), but before he could, you kissed him. He was clearly surprised because his eyes were wide open. It took him a moment, but he finally shut his eyes and smiled into the kiss. His lips were just as soft as they had felt when he kissed your forehead last night. He rolled over so he was on top. Lily jumped on his back, and he groaned.

You laughed and pulled away, looking at the dog.

“Lily, sit!” You commanded,

The dog did as you said and sat patiently.

“Why… why did you do this for me?” You asked, looking up at Luke.

He looked down at you. He brought a hand up to rub your forehead with his thumb.

“Because you deserve it,” he breathed out.

“You deserve everything you want… and I want to give it all to you,” he swallowed nervously.

You hadn’t seen him this nervous before… You leaned up and kissed him softly.

“You’re really something, Luke,” you said to him.

“You are too,” he whispered and kissed you once more.

How sweet life could be to you… After not having a great love in life, you get one in death, the two of you intertwined, sewn together.