No Rest for the Wicked
by Finesse Lunsky
Jesper Blaywood wanted a great many things from life: money, fame, love, but most of all, death. If only men like him could die.
As he pulled his suit jacket over his violet dress shirt, he climbed out of a matte Cadillac, gently tapping the door closed with his cane. He took a steadying breath and ran a shaky hand through his grey hair before proceeding to the Peace Garden. Peace Garden. That’s what they called a cemetery these days. The crease etched in his thick brows eased, almost grateful to have anger as his primary emotion. Really, anything but what he was feeling.
As he approached the Garden, the scent and sight of lavish flower petals invaded his senses as they painted the borders of what would soon be Marion’s resting place. She had wanted to be buried under a willow tree, but that was considered improper. Jesper himself preferred birch trees, but the willow’s whimsy would have been perfect for Marion. The vibrant loveliness of the scene twisted a knife in Jesper he didn’t know he had been stabbed with. At the nudge to his broad shoulder, he turned to the jubilant gaze of Marion’s mother.
“It’s good to see you. I wasn’t sure if you would come.” The way Susan’s smile crinkled at the edge of her cheek bones nearly distracted him from the unsettling glint in her eyes. Every one of the Corrupt had sour eyes. The kind of eyes a friend wouldn’t confide in, that an enemy would think twice about.
“It seems like the kind of occasion a husband ought not to miss.” He held her gaze with his own corrupted stare, unwavering.
“I’m so lucky it was her. The women at the home will be jealous for months! What’re the chances my own daughter would go and turn herself into a Moral? With what I’m hearing about your little experiments at Mandutech though, we’ll be joining her soon enough, won’t we?” She slid her greedy eyes to Jesper, desire clear on her face.
“We should get to our seats.” He held his elbow out for Susan and led them to the front row of chairs.
The rest of the procession flew by in a dull haze that left Jesper both antsy and exhausted. Each person who congratulated him on his wife’s death gave him a pitying look, a little tip of the eyebrows, a slight curl of the mouth, as if they were obliged to acknowledge that he would never get this honour, as if he didn’t already know. One could only die if they were a Moral to the bone.
When he was finally alone in the Garden, he rested a wrinkled palm on her tomb, glad to have one last moment with just the two of them.
“I know this is what you wanted, but I hate it. I’m sorry, I know that sounds selfish,” he paused. “I guess that’s why you’re here and I’m not.”
Jesper laughed. It was a mean sound, almost resentful, but he had more to say, “If I could join you I would, but it can’t be the way you want.”
He could almost hear her melodic voice whispering that anything was possible, that he could be as good as he wanted. She’d gotten him into knitting with that line, which he grimaced at, but this was a bit bigger than a scarf. Under a shield of stars wrapped in each other, he might have believed her. Here though, her voice just haunted him. Jesper let his eyes fall closed, trying to recall just what that voice sounded like.
Warmth seeped into his skin as sunshine splayed across his withered face, bringing him back to the time he first met Marion. It was a deceptively bright day, which tricked Jesper into thinking a morning walk would be a marvelous idea. Four steps out of his house, and he was ready to turn back; his steps faltered, though.
Across the street, sitting under the massive frozen tree, there was a girl. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, not from her strawberry blonde mane, not from her bright brown eyes, and definitely not from the way her face lit up at the sight of him. Against his better judgement, he made his way to her, barely aware of the crunch of frozen grass under his boots. Waving Jesper over, Marion shook his hand vigorously with her thick orange mitt, and introduced herself as his new neighbour.
They ended up wasting the winter day away together under that tree. Their conversation soon spun into hundreds of little silver webs Jesper’s memory would hoard and cherish for decades after. She laughed at all his sarcastic jokes and he laughed at her witty optimism.
By the time he held genuine concern for the health of his appendages, he forced himself to depart. As he turned to go, he couldn’t help but ask how she wasn’t cold. She just laughed, letting the daylight bounce off her cheeks, answering the question for him. The sun was just as enthralled by her as he was; it too wanted to give her everything it had.
Jesper turned to leave the Garden, when his eye caught a shimmer in the distance. He must not have been thinking clearly, for his legs moved before his mind caught up. That seemed to be a pattern when Marion was on his mind. By the time he reached the border of the Peace Garden where the light had been, his gaze wandered. When his silver eyes landed on the culprit, Jesper could feel his lungs crumble in his chest. It was a willow tree’s lushly brittle leaves waving in the breeze.
Whether it was some wild coincidence or a message from the woman he loved, Jesper knew he had to make a choice. He had promised her years ago he would try, but as he studied the whimsical flutters of the willows, his resolve hardened. Jesper would find a way to die, by any means necessary, and they would finally be at peace together.
He made a call to Mandutech to give them the go-ahead. Then he made a call to Susan, offering her the one thing she craved more than wealth. He knew neither of them would ever leave this earth based on morality; she was as crooked as a politician, and he, he was no better. A life dedicated to science had somehow warped into a life devoted to shares and dividends. Jesper’s passions were tempted by greed and eroded by riches. The only redeeming corner of his soul belonged to Marion.
But even that wasn’t enough. Being denied death was as if life just stopped ending. The Corrupt were born, they grew up, moved away, fell in love, retired, turned grey, but that was it. No gentle goodbye, no mournful slumber, no conclusion. Their only hope was to transform themselves into Morals; that was the only solution to ceaseless living. Until now.
He got the call while he was in the midst of finishing the wool cardigan Marion had goaded him into starting. His assistant, Stella, barged into his study with such haste her glasses almost bounced right off her nose onto the marble floor,
“Sorry Mr. B. I don’t mean to disturb you, but I have great news!” She sounded out of breath, “We’ve just gotten word from the Mandutech lead scientist that the test on that lady, Susan? Yeah, I think her name was Susan. Anyway, it worked! She is officially deceased, and everything’s ready to go for you tomorrow! Just call them to confirm the appointment and it’s all set!”
She scrambled over to his desk and slid a slightly crumpled slip of paper over to him.
“Thank you ,Stella. You can head home now.”
Long after Stella’s car had pulled out of the driveway, Jesper’s steely eyes held focus on the opportunity sitting on his desk. He must have stared at those ten numbers for an hour. Jesper’s moral compass was cracked and flawed and faulty; this would be his only chance to see Marion again. He should be happy, so why did the butterflies in his stomach feel like worms eating him from the inside out?
No, this was his only chance. Shaking off his nerves through his shoulders, he gave in to his deepest need. He grabbed his cell phone, but stopped short when he faced his screensaver.
It was Marion standing under a willow tree with the wildest smile he’d ever seen. It was the same smile she wore on that frigid day so long ago. It was the same smile she wore when she was gifted illness. It was the same smile he fell in love with.
She wouldn’t want this. She would want him to earn his death, like she did. Marion had given every part of herself to this world and to him. She held fast to her honour, even when she knew it would take her away from Jesper, even when she couldn’t bear to think of leaving him. Marion would have lived forever; she would have accepted it with that easy grin of hers, if only to remain in his reverent arms, but she deserved her end. She was ready to go.
Jesper had never claimed to be a Moral, but stealing a death that wasn’t his was beyond even him. If she were willing to be without him for the sake of her soul, he could be, too. Right?
That night, Jesper set his phone down, tearing apart the thin slip of paper, and chose to be the kind of man Marion always hoped he could be, no matter how long it took. She deserved a partner who earned her presence, not one who stole it.
He resolved to earn his place among the dead, his first step being the end to Mandutech. Even if it meant $30 billion down the drain, Jesper knew this experiment had to be shut down. He was sure the voicemail he left the CEO would cause quite the stir, but he couldn’t find the panic in himself to care.
For the first time in a long time, he felt his shoulder blades loosen. He felt his brows untense from their stern position. He felt peace. Jesper sat in that worn leather chair for the rest of the night, the weight of his grief feeling just a bit lighter. In the quiet of his townhouse, all that could be heard was the soft clicking of knitting needles, click, click, click, and suddenly a terse clank, as the needles dropped to the floor.
Another day, another colourful celebration of peace; golden rays tessellated through the sky, coalescing into a warm blanket for the earth. A beautiful willow tree on the border of the Peace Garden swayed with the gale, branches intertwining with the birch growing beside it.