Chapter 6
The hospital was brightly lit, with colorful floor tiles and flowers at every turn, but the people wore expressions that dimmed the halls and made the place feel dark, as Charon found his way to the elevator and to the second floor. Even here, in the children’s ward, the aroma of pine and disinfectant couldn’t mask the other smells of urine and blood.
The sight of Matilda waiting for him outside Johnny’s room brightened Charon’s mood at once. Today she wore tight-fitting jeans that showed off her figure, in spite of the green smock she wore over her shirt as a volunteer. He felt a fire burning deep in his belly that made him tremble, like he had when he was old and couldn’t control his muscles. But this feeling was different. It was exhilarating.
“Hi, Charon!” Matilda beamed up at him as he joined her in the hallway.
“Hello, Matilda. How are you today?” As curious as he was to find out what she’d wanted to tell him—what she thought could ruin everything—he knew this wasn’t the time or place.
“I’m so excited that I can’t stand it!” she said with a giggle. “I haven’t told Johnny anything except that he’s getting a fantastic surprise. I wanted you to be the one to tell him.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Johnny called from inside the room.
“Shall we?” Charon motioned toward the door and followed the giggling beauty into the room.
The boy sat on the bed beneath a blue blanket. He was propped up against pillows. Although his face was pale from prolonged illness, his dark brows, dark eyes, black hair, and steady jaw were handsome. His body was thin, as Charon had expected, but the boy possessed a confidence that made him seem less frail than he was.
“Johnny, this is Charon,” Matilda said with a smile. “Charon, this is Johnny.”
“So, what’s this all about?” Johnny asked. “Have you found a cure?”
Charon frowned. “Unfortunately, no.”
“I’m just pulling your chain,” Johnny said with a laugh. “I know there’s no cure.”
Matilda moved to the other side of Johnny’s bed, across from Charon. “Remember your bucket list?”
“What about it?” Johnny asked.
“Charon wants to help you with it,” she said, unable to hold back. “His father left him a lot of money, and this is what he wants to do with it—or some of it, I guess. Isn’t that awesome?”
Johnny frowned. “Does he know what’s on my bucket list? He might change his mind.”
“I’m up for anything,” Charon said. “The sky’s the limit.”
“Why me?” Johnny asked. “You don’t even know me.”
“That’s true,” Charon said. “But I trust Matilda, and this is what she wants.”
Tears filled Matilda’s eyes. “Life works in mysterious ways. This is a blessing. Don’t try to analyze it.”
Johnny reached over to the side table drawer and pulled out a slip of paper. The creases made it look as though it had once been crumpled up and thrown away before someone had opened it and smoothed it out again. In pen, in sloppy print, appeared this list:
Zipline over the Amazon rain forest
Smoke pot in Amsterdam
Play the slots in Vegas
Parade down the streets of New Orleans
Steal a car
Pet a lion
“Well, I don’t know about the last two,” Charon said.
“What?” Johnny said with disappointment. “Dude, those are the most important.”
“Why don’t we start at the top and work our way down?” Charon suggested. “We’ll see how it goes.”
“You mean I probably won’t make it to the end, anyway,” Johnny said.
Charon was baffled by the boy’s attitude, which seemed less than grateful.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Charon said, trying to hide his own disappointment. “We don’t have to do anything at all, however, if you’re not willing.”
“Come on, Johnny,” Matilda said. “I thought you’d be excited.”
“You clearly are,” Johnny said with a pout. “Why can’t you come?”
“You know why,” Matilda said.
“But I don’t even know the guy,” Johnny whispered.
Matilda leaned closer to the boy. “Let’s be honest for a minute here. What have you got to lose?”
Charon was shocked that she would say such a thing to a dying boy. The boy seemed as surprised as Charon. He looked up at Matilda with his mouth hanging open.
“I’m not trying to be mean, Johnny,” she said. “But this is a great opportunity for you to go out and experience the world. Does it matter who takes you?”
Johnny glanced at Charon. “You really want to blow your money on me?”
“It’s just money,” Charon said. “I don’t care anything about it, to be honest.”
“Said anyone without it never,” Johnny muttered.
“Don’t be rude,” Matilda scolded.
“Look who’s talking,” the boy said.
Charon looked across the bed at Matilda. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“Maybe it was,” the boy said. “Why don’t you just go? Both of you.”
“Johnny,” Matilda began gently.
Johnny closed his eyes and shouted, “Just go.”
Matilda crossed to Charon’s side and took his hand, whispering, “I’m sorry,” as she led him from the room.
“Wait!” Johnny cried.
Charon and Matilda stepped back through the door. Charon wasn’t sure what to make of the boy’s face. It was twisted in despair, and he was sobbing.
“Do you really think the doctor would let me zipline?” Johnny asked.
Matilda rushed to his bedside and put her arms around him. “Of course, she would. I know she would.”
Then, so quietly that a mortal standing in Charon’s position would not have heard, the boy whispered to Matilda, “I’m not worth it—all the time and money he’s offering to spend. I’m not worth it.”
Matilda stroked the boy’s black hair and said, “Yes, you most certainly are, Johnny Trevino. And much more than that.”
Matilda kissed the boy’s cheek and held him as he wept, while Charon stood near the door, at a loss. The boy’s emotions confused and overwhelmed the ferryman. He wondered if he’d made a mistake in offering to help. How would he handle the moody boy without Matilda?
* * *
“I’ve never been on a plane before,” Johnny said in the seat beside Charon before liftoff.
“Neither have I,” Charon said.
Johnny wrinkled his nose. “Get out of here.”
Charon glanced around the crowded plane. “Where should I go?”
“You’ve never flown before?” the boy asked with incredulous eyes.
“Yes. Many times. Just not on a plane.”
“Huh? You mean, like a helicopter?”
“Chariot, mostly.”
Johnny laughed. “Yeah, right.”
The air was stuffy, and so were most of the people crammed together with Charon and the boy. People avoided eye contact and were short with one another when they spoke. The god was reminded why he didn’t particularly care for people.
“God-travel would be so much easier,” Charon muttered.
When the plane took off, Johnny grabbed Charon’s wrist. The boy let go as quickly as he’d grabbed it and flushed with embarrassment when Charon met his eyes.
“I don’t know what I’m worried about,” Johnny said as they lifted into the air. “It’s going to happen one way or another.”
Charon wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he said nothing. Instead, he dwelled on what Matilda had told him when they’d been alone the previous afternoon at lunch, sorting out the details of the trip. She’d finally told him what she’d feared might ruin everything. She’d confessed that she thought it was possible to bring someone back from the dead, and she was determined to do it one day.
Although it hadn’t ruined everything, it had certainly shocked Charon to learn that the sweet and beautiful Matilda was dabbling with necromancy, the one thing Charon could never tolerate. He’d told her that only black magic could make such a thing possible.
She’d frowned and had said, “I guess that’s a matter of perspective.”
They’d been dining at the same coffee and sandwich shop as they’d eaten when she’d read the tarot.
“I’m telling you it’s risky business,” he’d said. “Why in the world would you ever want to do such a thing?”
“I want to bring my mother back,” she’d said.
Later, after the plane had stabilized in the air, the boy interrupted Charon’s thoughts by asking, “You got any kids?”
“No. I never married.”
“You’re still young. I can tell you like Matilda.”
Charon smiled for the first time since they’d boarded. It was true—despite her interest in the dark art of necromancy. “Yes.”
“Think you might want to marry her some day?”
“I’m sure I would, but it wouldn’t be possible.”
Johnny leaned back and lifted his chin. “Why not?”
“We’re too different.”
“You mean because you’re white and she’s black?”
“Not at all,” Charon said. “Why does that matter?”
“Then why?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
They were quiet again until the flight attendant took their drink orders.
Then Johnny asked, “So tell me where you’re from and stuff, or are you worried about getting too close to someone like me?”
Charon bent his brows. “Like you?”
“You know. Someone terminal.”
“That doesn’t worry me.” Then he added, “And it shouldn’t worry you.”
“You’re right, man. It’s not like I’m leaving anyone behind. No one will even notice.”
“Matilda will miss you.”
“I have a sister, but I don’t know where she is.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” Charon asked.
“We were together until I was seven and she was six, and then we got separated in the foster system. I wish I could see her, you know, to say goodbye. Matilda’s tried to find her, but I guess it’s impossible.”
“What’s her name?”
“Jessie. Jessica. I don’t know her last name. We were both Trevino for a while, but we weren’t born with that name. It was given to me by my last foster family.”
“I see. Well, maybe I can help you look for her.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Johnny asked.
“One of each.”
“And do you see them often?”
“Almost never.”
“How come?”
Charon was beginning to feel irritated by Johnny’s questions. Would they never end? “I guess we’re all too busy. We drifted apart. Went our separate ways.”
“Yeah, that happens.”
Their drinks came, along with a bag of pretzels for each of them. Johnny was quiet again while he ate and drank and gazed through the window at the white clouds below. It was going to be a long flight.
Then, nearly an hour later, as Charon was trying to work out how he might convince Matilda to accept her mother’s death, Johnny suddenly said, “I’m sorry about your dad. Matilda told me.”
Charon thought of Bill. He hadn’t known the dog long, but he’d known him long enough to develop strong feelings for him. No one had ever been so affectionate toward Charon—not even his mother. “I miss him.”
“He’s lucky,” Johnny said before he grew sullen again. “It must be nice to be missed.”