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Detective King. “What about the other guy?” I asked.
    “I never saw him before.” Nessie said. “He’s pretty hot, ain’t he?” She nudged me in the ribs and winked. “Course, you got a man, now don’t you?”
    “I guess ,” I said.
    “Ain’t that how it is. You go fo rever without getting a man to look at you. Once you get one, they everywhere.”
    The rest of the day, Nessie and I arranged the funeral for Penny Roil. I called funeral homes and florists. I didn’t have time to think. I didn’t feel the sadness until late in the evening. When I got home and alone, my mind wandered. Where was Penny’s baby girl? Who’d do this to her? Why?
    I l ounged on the couch watching “The Simpson’s”. At about seven o’clock Mom appeared out of thin air. I glanced up, but didn’t acknowledge her. She floated in my hand-me-down green chair. Mom had a colorful red orchid in her hair, over her ear. She wore an American Airlines flight attendant muumuu uniform, mandatory on all Hawaiian flights during the 1970’s. The uniform of blue with red and white flowers hung on Mom. Around her neck she wore a lay of red and white silk flowers.
    I loved th at outfit. It reminded me of a better time in my life. Mom worked on the American Airlines flight to Hawaii before Dad left. Dad’s departure forced Mom to work closer to home. She left the Hawaiian flight. It caused her to struggle financially; the closer flights didn’t pay as well.
    My dad was a pilot. He spent most of his time flying from one destination to another. My parents divorced when I was six. At first, he tried to be a father to me. He took me on the weekends until I turned eight. Then the weekends became less frequent, until I only saw my dad once a year. As a teenager, I didn’t see my dad at all. I would get the obligatory phone call at birthdays and Christmas. I saw Dad twice since adulthood, when I graduated from college and at Mom’s funeral. Both visits were in the same year. At Mom’s funeral, Dad made an empty promise to spend more time with me. I haven’t seen him since.
    “Cassie,” Mom said, “are you alright?”
    “Yeah.” I replied, dully. I continued to watch TV.
    “You look upset.”
    “Mom?” I asked, not looking at her. “What’s the green room like?”
    “I’ve told you before. It’s like a big waiting room.”
    “I know that, but what are the people there like? Do they know their dead? Are they sad?”
    “Most know they’ re dead. Many are confused and frustrated.”
    “Why?” I asked.
    “I guess because everyone expects the bright light or angels with harps,” she said. “Then you die and you’re stuck in limbo in a place that’s comparable to the BMV. There’s nothing to do, but wait for your number to be called.”
    “Why is it like that?” I asked. “Why do you have to sit around, doing nothing, until it’s time?”
    “Cassie, it’s not like that for everyone. It’s like taking a flight ,” she said. Mom explained things better when she compared it to the airline industry. “Everyone has a departure time and date, but some of us arrive at the terminal early. Then we’re stuck waiting for our flight. We have to wait until it’s our time to board.” Great, now I’m stuck thinking heaven is a 747.
    “How do you know when it’s your boarding time?” I asked.
    “I’m not exactly sure. I’ve seen it a couple of times,” Mom said. “This guy sat next to me. He stood up and walked to the curtain. It opened for him and he went through.”
    “Did you see anything?”
    “Just a blinding light,” Mom said, “but the man saw people. He said, ‘Hello, mother and father, I’ve been waiting to see you’. It was a moving sight.”
    “Do you see people in there that you know?”
    “Sometimes, but I don’t spend a lot of time there looking for people. Some people spend all of their time looking for loved ones and friends.”
    “Why do you spend so much time here?” I asked.
    “Remember when