Elsewhere

Time Passes

There will be other lives.

There will be other lives for nervous boys with sweaty palms, for bittersweet rumblings in the backseats of cars, for caps and gowns in royal blue and crimson, for mothers clasping pretty pearl necklaces around daughters' unlined necks, for your full name read aloud in an auditorium, for brand-new suitcases transporting you to strange new people in strange new lands.

And there will be other lives for unpaid debts, for one-night stands, for Prague and for Paris, for painful shoes with pointy toes, for indecisions and revisions.

And there will be other lives for fathers walking daughters down aisles.

And there will be other lives for sweet babies with skin like milk.

And there will be other lives for a man you don't recognize, for a face in a mirror that is no longer yours, for the funerals of intimates, for shrinking, for teeth that fall out, for hair on your chin, for forgetting everything. Everything.

Oh, there are so many lives. How we wish we could live them concurrently instead of one by one by one. We could select the best pieces of each, stringing them together like a strand of pearls.

But that's not how it works. A human's life is a beautiful mess.

In the year Liz will turn thirteen again, she whispers in Betty's ear, "Happiness is a choice."

"So, what's your choice?" Betty asks.

Liz closes her eyes, and in a split second she chooses.

Five years pass.

When one is happy, time passes quickly. Liz feels as if one evening she went to bed fourteen and the next morning she woke up nine.

Two Weddings

Someone from Earth's been trying to Contact you," Owen announces one evening after work.

Now the head of the Bureau of Supernatural Crime and Contact, he is usually one of the first people on Elsewhere to know about these matters.

"What?" Liz barely looks up from her book. Recently, she has taken to rereading her favorite books from when she first learned to read on Earth.

"What are you reading?" Owen asks.

"Charlotte's Web" Liz says. "It's really sad. One of the main characters just died."

"You ought to read the book from end to beginning," Owen jokes. "That way, no one dies, and it's always a happy ending."

"That's about the dumbest thing I've ever heard." Liz rolls her eyes and returns to her reading.

"Aren't you at all interested in who's trying to Contact you?" Owen asks. From his coat pocket, he removes a green recorked wine bottle with a sticky palimpsest where the label had once been.

Inside the bottle is a rolled-up ecru envelope. (The envelope is really more pleated than rolled, because of the thickness of the paper.) "It washed up on the wharf today," Owen says, handing the bottle to Liz. "The boys over in Earth Artifacts had to uncork it to see who it was for, but the contents of the envelope haven't been touched. When we get an MIB, we try as much as possible to preserve the person's privacy."

"What's an MIB?" Liz asks, setting her book aside to examine the bottle.

"Message in a bottle," Owen answers. "It's one of the few ways to get mail from Earth'to Elsewhere. No one knows exactly why it works, but it does."

"I've never gotten one before," Liz says.

"They're not as common as they used to be."

"Why's that?" Liz asks.

"People on Earth don't write letters so much anymore. Messages in bottles probably don't occur to them. And it's not always a sure thing."

Liz uncorks the bottle. She removes the thick envelope, which is remarkably well preserved considering its watery voyage. On the front is an address in elegant calligraphy done with a rich, black-green ink:

"Very thorough," Owen says, "but they never write Elsewhere."

"No one on Earth calls it that," Liz reminds him. She turns the envelope over. The return address is in the same calligraphy:

"That's Zooey's address," Liz says as she lifts the flap. Inside, she finds a three-paneled ecru wedding invitation and a long handwritten note. Liz slips the note into her pocket.

" 'You are invited to the wedding of Zooey Anne Brandon and Paul Scott Spencer,' " Liz reads aloud. "My best friend's getting married?"

"You mean your best friend before you met me, right?" Owen teases her.

Liz ignores him. "The wedding's the first weekend in June. That's in less than two weeks." Liz tosses the invitation aside. "She certainly took her time inviting me," Liz huffs.

"You should probably forgive her. It's pretty hard to send things here, you know? She probably sent this months ago." Owen picks up the invitation. "Good-quality paper stock."

"Isn't she too young to get married?" Liz asks. "She's my age." Liz corrects herself, "I mean, she was my age. Actually, she was a month older than me, so I guess that makes her almost twentytwo."

Owen takes out a pen and begins filling out the response card. "Will madam be bringing a guest?"

"No," Liz replies.

"What about me?" asks Owen, his eyes wide with mock offense.

"Sorry to disappoint, O," Liz says, taking the response card from him, "but I think we'd have a little trouble making travel arrangements." She carefully slips the response card and the invitation back into the envelope.

"We could watch from the OD," Owen suggests.

"I don't want to watch," Liz says.

"Then we could dive," Owen says. "From the Well, you could congratulate her and everything."

"I can't believe you're even suggesting that." Liz shakes her head. "In your line of work."

"Oh come on, Liz! Where's your sense of adventure? One last hurrah before we're too young for any more hurrahs! What do you say?"

Liz thinks for a moment before she answers. "When I died, Zooey didn't go to my funeral, so I see no need to attend her wedding."

That night in bed, Liz reads Zooey's note. She notices that Zooey's handwriting is the same as when they were both fifteen and used to pass notes in school.

Dear Liz,

It's pretty crazy for me to write you after all this time, but as you can see, I'm getting married! :) I've missed you a lot. I wonder where you are, and what you've been doing. And in case you've wondered about me, I'm in my first year of law school, here in Chicago where I live now.

So if you have the time and the inclination, and if you happen to be in Boston (we wanted Chicago, but Mom won), you should drop by the wedding. The boy's name is Paul, and he smells good, and he has nice forearms.

I know you probably won't ever get this letter (sort of feels like writing to Santa which is really bizarre considering I'm Jewish), but it was worth a shot. I already tried a psychic medium and Rabbi Singer of Congregation B'nai B'rith, where my parents still attend services back in Brookline. Incidentally, Mom and Dad say "hi." It was Paul s idea to put the invite in the bottle. I think he got it from a movie, though.

Love,

Your Best Friend on Earth (I hope),

Zooey

P.S. Fm sorry I didn't go to your funeral.

"I want to give a toast," Liz announces to Owen the next morning.

"By all means," Owen says, sitting down with his cup of coffee. "I'm all ears."

"Not now, silly," Liz replies. "I meant at Zooey's wedding. Your idea to go to the Well might not be as bad as I first thought."

"So you're saying you want to dive?" Owen's eyes light up.

"Yes, and I need you to help me with the toast. The last time I tried to communicate from the Well was a bit of a disaster," Liz says.

"That was the night you met me, I believe."

"Like I said, it was a bit of a disaster," Liz jokes.

"That isn't funny." Owen shakes his head.

Liz continues, "All the faucets in the house turned on, and "

"Beginner's mistake," Owen interrupts.

"And nobody could understand what I was saying," Liz finishes.

"And you were arrested," Owen adds.

"That, too," Liz concedes. "So how do I make it so the people at the wedding will understand me and not run from the room screaming?"

"Well, for one, you have to remember not to scream. Once you have their attention, whispering is much more effective. Screaming ghosts scare people, you know," Owen says.

"Good tip."

"And you have to pick a running water source and focus on it. And good breath control is a must,"

Owen says. "I'll come with you, of course, but only if you want me to."

"Won't you get sacked if they know you're helping me make Contact?"

Owen shrugs. "I'm head of the whole department now, and people tend to look the other way."

Liz smiles. "Then I guess it's settled." She raises her glass of orange juice. "To our dive!" she proclaims.

"To our dive!" Owen repeats, raising his cup of coffee. "I love an adventure, don't you?"

The evening of Zooey's wedding reception, Owen and Liz meet at the beach at eight o'clock. The reception starts at eight-thirty, and the dive itself should take forty minutes by Owen's calculations.

"Once we get there, you only have a little over half an hour," Owen warns her. "I've told the boys from work to pick us up at nine-thirty."

"Do you think that's long enough?" Liz worries.

"It isn't good to spend too much time down there. It is still illegal, you know."

Liz nods.

"I don't mean to be rude, but your wet suit's a bit loose in the bottom, Liz," Owen says.

"Is it?" She tugs at the stretchy fabric around her butt. "The wet suit's getting old. I haven't used it in almost six years."

"You look like you're wearing a diaper."

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm shrinking, too. I am nine, you know," Liz says.

"That's little."

"Well, I'm actually nine-six, and I would have been twentyone, so that's not the same as being plain nine," Liz says. "Besides, Owen, you're eleven. That's not much older than nine."

"I'm eleven?" Owen asks. "I certainly don't feel eleven."

"Well, you certainly act eleven a lot of the time," Liz teases.

"And if I'd lived, I would have been forty-one," Owen adds.

"Wow, that's really old!" Liz shakes her head. "Imagine! If you were forty-one, and I was twentyone, and we still lived on Earth, we probably never would have met."

The dive passes without incident. Having made it many times before, Owen is an excellent guide.

When they get to the Well, they can find only one running water source with a view into the reception a large outdoor fountain across a courtyard. From this location, they can mostly see through the tall glass windows that line the walls of the ballroom where Zooey's reception is being held.

"We aren't very close," Liz complains. "If I had only wanted to watch, we could have just gone to the OD."

"Don't worry. We'll find a better place for you to make your toast from," Owen assures her.

Across the courtyard and through the windows, Liz sees a wedding party much like every other one she has ever seen: abundant yellow roses, bridesmaids' dresses in pink, a bored-looking wedding singer, Zooey in an off-white A-line dress, the groom in a gray tuxedo with tails. Liz sees Zooey's mother and father among the crowd. And behind them, she sees her own mother and father.

"Look, Owen, it's my mom and dad. Dad looks older, and Mom changed her hair," Liz says. "Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!" Liz waves. "Oh, and there's my brother! Hi, Alvy!"

"Which one's Zooey?" Owen asks.

"Duh," Liz replies, "she's the one in the white dress."

"Oh, right!"

Liz rolls her eyes. "You're definitely getting stupider as you get younger, O." Liz looks at Zooey.

Zooey is twentyone, a woman. How odd, Liz thinks, that I'm nine and she's twentyone.

"We really should start looking for a place for you to toast from," Owen says. "We've only got about twentyfive minutes left."

First, they try the bathroom sink.

"CONGRATULATIONS, ZOOEY! THIS IS ELIZABETH MARIE HALL!" Liz yells. But the bathroom is too far away, and no one hears her.

"Maybe I'll wait until she comes in here?" Liz says to Owen. "At least then I'd get to talk to her."

"Not enough time. And brides always complain that they never get to eat or go to the bathroom.

Let's try the kitchen," Owen suggests.

The kitchen, while slightly closer to the reception area, is incredibly noisy with staff and plates and timers and other kitchen sounds.

"I LOVE YOU, ZOOEY! CONGRATULATIONS TO YOU AND PAUL," Liz yells again, this time from the kitchen sink.

A busboy screams and drops a tray filled with dirty salad plates.

"SORRY," Liz apologizes. "This is getting ridiculous," Liz says to Owen. "All I've succeeded in doing is scaring a waiter. We have to find somewhere closer."

In a burst of desperation, Liz suggests the samovar, but Owen, who knows more about these things, rejects the idea on the grounds that the water source has to be connected to actual plumbing. Despite Owen's warnings against it, Liz tries the coffee pot, but it doesn't work anyway.

(She's glad it doesn't work she would have felt entirely stupid giving a toast from a coffee pot.) "Oh, let's just go back to the fountain," Liz says dejectedly. "Maybe if we both yell together, she'll hear us."

"CONGRATULATIONS! CONGRATULATIONS! CONGRATULATIONS!" Owen and Liz scream from the fountain.

They continue yelling for five more minutes, but no one hears them over the noise from the fountain and through the walls. "Well," Liz says with a sigh, "at least I got to see Zooey in her wedding dress. We could have just done that from the ODs, I suppose."

"But it wouldn't have been as much fun," Owen points out.

"Should we swim back?" Liz asks.

"No, we might as well just wait," Owen says. "The boat'll be here in about ten minutes anyway."

While they wait, Liz watches Zooey's reception inside the ballroom. From their position at the fountain, she can see her own mother and father dancing.

"Your mom looks like you," Owen observes.

"Mom's hair is darker. She actually looks more like Alvy than . . ." Liz's voice trails off. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Alvy leave the reception hall through the side door. He's walking toward the fountain.

"Liz?" Owen asks.

"I think my brother's coming this way," Liz says.

Alvy walks right up to the fountain and looks into the water. Liz holds her breath.

"Lizzie," Alvy whispers to the fountain.

"Remember," Owen says, "don't yell."

"It's me," Liz whispers.

"I thought I heard you," Alvy says. "First I thought it was coming from the bathroom. And then the kitchen. And then out here."

Liz's eyes well up a little bit. Good old Alvy. "Alvy, it's so good to talk to you."

"I'll go get Zooey! You're here to congratulate her, right? I'll go get Mom and Dad, too," Alvy says.

"They'll definitely want to talk to you."

Owen shakes his head. "The guys are going to be here in five minutes."

"There isn't time, Alvy," Liz says. "Just give Zooey and Mom and Dad my love. In a way that won't freak them out, of course."

"I'll just run in real quick and get them."

"No!" Liz says. "I might not be here when you get back. Let's just talk a little bit, you and me. I have to go soon."

"Okay," Alvy agrees.

"How's eighth grade?" she asks.

"I'm in ninth actually. I skipped."

"Alvy, that's awesome! You were always so smart. How's ninth grade, then?"

"It's cool," Alvy says. "I'm in debate this year, which is definitely better than band, which I was in last year. God, Lizzie, you don't actually want to know about this stuff, do you?"

"I do. I totally do."

Alvy shakes his head. "I think about you, you know?"

"I think about you, too."

"Is it okay where you are?"

"It's different."

"Different how?"

"It's" she pauses "hard to explain. It's not like you think. But it's okay here. I'm okay, Alvy."

"Are you happy?" Alvy asks.

And for the second time since she came to Elsewhere, Liz pauses and considers this question. "I am," she says. "I have a lot of friends. And I have a dog called Sadie. And I see Betty. She's our grandma, the one who died. You'd like her so much. Her sense of humor is like yours. I miss you guys all the time. Oh God, Alvy, there's so much I want to talk to you about."

"I know! There's so much I want to tell you and ask you, too, but I can't remember what."

"I'm sorry about that time with the sweater."

"You aren't still thinking about that, are you?" Alvy shrugs. "Don't even mention it. It all worked out."

"I'm sorry if I got you in trouble."

"Please. Mom and Dad were total disasters after you died. Everything set them off. I know the sweater definitely helped Dad."

"I'm sorry if it's been hard for you, then. Hard because of me."

"Lizzie, the only thing that's been hard is missing my sister."

"You have such a good heart. Do you know that? You were always the best kid in the world. If I was ever annoyed at you or anything, it's just 'cause you were so much younger than me and also I was used to being an only child."

"I know that, Lizzie, and I love you, too."

Owen hears the sound of the net coming toward them. Owen whispers to Liz, "They're almost here."

"Who's with you?" Alvy asks.

"That's Owen. He's my" she pauses "boyfriend."

Alvy nods. "Cool."

"Nice to meet you, Alvy," Owen says.

"We met before, didn't we? Your voice is familiar. You were the guy who told me the right closet."

Alvy asks.

"Yup," Owen says, "that was me."

"By the way, Alvy," Liz asks, "how did you ever hear me tonight?"

"I always listen to the water. I've been listening since I was little," Alvy says. "I could never stop hoping it might be you."

At that moment, Liz feels a familiar net pulling her and Owen away from the Well.

Liz sighs. So the wedding wasn't exactly like she imagined it would be. But then, what in life is?

"Your brother is a really cool kid," Owen says on the ride back up.

"He is," Liz agrees. "All things considered, it was a nice wedding, don't you think?"

"It was," Owen agrees.

"And Zooey was beautiful," Liz adds.

Owen shrugs. "I didn't really get a good chance to look at her. All brides look about the same anyway."

Liz latches her fingers into the net. "Sometimes I wish I could get a white dress."

"You have a white dress, Liz," says Owen, "though it's more like pajamas."

"You know what I mean. A wedding dress."

The net is approaching the surface. Just as they are about to hit the cool night air, Owen turns to Liz. "I'll marry you, if you want," he says.

"I'm too young now," she replies.

"I would have married you before, but you didn't want to," he says.

"I was too young before, and we didn't know each other well enough."

"Oh," says Owen.

"Besides," says Liz, "there didn't seem to be much of a point. You had been married before, and we already knew what we were, I guess."

"Oh," says Owen, "but I would have, you know."

"I know you would have," says Liz, "and knowing you would have was nearly as good." At that moment, the net surfaces and they are lowered onto the deck of a tugboat.

"Hey, boss," a detective for the bureau asks Owen, "you want to drive back?"

Owen looks at Liz. "It's fine if you want to drive," Liz says. "I'm sleepy anyway." Liz yawns. It had been a great day, she thinks. She walks over to a pile of raincoats and lies down.

Owen watches as Liz uses one of the raincoats as a blanket. Right then, he decides to tell Liz that he wants to marry her tomorrow or next weekend or sometime really soon. "Liz," he calls out.

But the boat is too loud, and Liz can't hear him, and the subject never comes up again.

The following Monday, Curtis Jest visits Liz at the Division of Domestic Animals. It's rather unusual for Curtis to come to her work, but Liz doesn't say anything.

"How was the wedding?" Curtis asks Liz.

"About average," Liz replies, "but I enjoyed it very much. It's good to see people you haven't seen for a while."

Curtis nods.

"But all weddings are about the same, aren't they? Flowers and tuxedoes and white dresses and cake and coffee." Liz laughs. "In a way, it hardly seems worth it."

Curtis nods again. Liz looks at him. She notices that he is unusually pale.

"Curtis, what is it?"

Curtis takes a deep breath. Liz has never seen him this nervous. "That's just it, Lizzie. It does barely seem worth it, unless it happens to be your wedding."

"I don't understand."

"I've come" Curtis clears his throat "I've come to ask your permission "

"My permission? For what?"

"Stop interrupting, Liz! This is hard enough," Curtis says. "I've come to ask your permission to marry Betty."

"You want to marry Betty? My Betty?" Liz stammers.

"I've been seeing her for five years, as you know, and I was recently overcome by the utter conviction that I had to be her husband," Curtis says. "You're her closest relative, so I felt I should run it by you first."

Liz throws her arms around Curtis. "Good Lord, Curtis. Congratulations!"

"She hasn't said yes, yet," Curtis replies.

"Do you think she will?" Liz asks.

"We can only hope, my dear. We can only hope." Curtis crosses his fingers. He keeps them crossed until Betty says yes almost two days later.

The wedding is planned for the last week in August, two weeks after what would have been Liz's twenty-second birthday.

Betty asks Liz to be her maid of honor. Thandi is the other bridesmaid, and the two girls wear matching dresses in deep golden silk shantung that Betty sewed herself.

The wedding takes place in Betty's garden. At Betty's request, no flowers are harmed for the union.

Betty cries, and Curtis cries, and Owen cries, and Thandi cries, and Sadie cries, and Jen cries, and Aldous Ghent cries. But Liz doesn't cry. She's too happy to cry. Two of her favorite peopie in the world are getting married, and that doesn't happen every day After the ceremony is over, Curtis sings the song he wrote for Betty when Liz was recuperating.

Liz walks over to Thandi, who is eating an enormous piece of wedding cake.

"The first time I saw you I thought you looked like a queen," Liz says to Thandi.

"Didn't stop you from waking me up, though," Thandi replies.

"You remember that?" Liz asks. "You were barely awake at the time."

"Not much I forget, Liz. My memory's long long long." Thandi smiles, revealing two missing front teeth.

"What happened to your teeth?" Liz asks.

Thandi shrugs. "Fell out. We're not getting any older, you know."

"Isn't nine a little old to be losing your adult teeth?"

"Mine came in late the first time," Thandi replies.

Liz nods. "Getting younger is odd, isn't it?"

"Not really. Just feels like all the unimportant stuff is falling away. Like a snake shedding its skin, really." Thandi takes another bite of cake. "Being old is so heavy, really. I feel lighter every day.

Sometimes, I feel like I could fly away."

"Does it ever feel like a dream to you?" Liz asks.

"Oh no!" Thandi shakes her head. "We're not starting that again, are we?"

Liz laughs. Curtis Jest begins singing an old Machine song. "I love this song," Liz says. "I'm going to ask Owen to dance with me."

"You do that, dream girl." Thandi smiles and takes another bite of her cake.

Liz locates Owen quickly.

"I was looking for you," he says.

"Let's dance," she says, pulling Owen to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of Betty's garden.

Owen and Liz dance. From across the room, Betty holds up her champagne flute.

"Mazel tov," Liz calls to her.

"You look pretty today," Owen whispers in Liz's ear. "I like your dress."

Liz shrugs. "It's just a dress."

"Well, it's definitely better than your wet suit."

Liz laughs. She closes her eyes. She listens to the music and smells the sweet fragrances of Betty's garden. A cool wind blows Liz's bridesmaid dress against her legs, sweeping summer away.

For better or worse, this is my life, she thinks.

This is my life.

My life.

The Change

In the year Liz turns eight, Sadie becomes a puppy again.

In the months leading up to her Release, Sadie grows smaller, her fur becomes softer, her breath sweeter, her eyes clearer. She speaks less and less until she doesn't speak at all. Before her teeth fall out, she chews up several of Liz's books. Although Sadie spends most of her time napping in Betty's garden, she has strange bursts of manic activity where all she wants to do is wrestle with Paco and Jen. Both older dogs tolerate Sadie's outbursts with considerable equanimity.

In the weeks before her Release, Sadie becomes so small you can barely tell she is a puppy. She might have been a large mouse. Her eyes seal closed, and Liz has to feed her tiny drops of milk from her pinky. Sadie still seems to recognize her name when Liz says it.

On the dawn of the Release, Liz and Owen drive Sadie to the River. It is the first Release Liz has attended since her own aborted attempt six years ago.

At sunrise, a wind begins to blow. The current carries the babies faster and faster down the River, back to Earth. Liz watches Sadie in the current for as long as possible. Sadie becomes a dot, then a speck, then nothing at all.

On the drive home, Owen notices that Liz is unusually quiet. "You're sad about Sadie," he says.

Liz shakes her head. She hasn't cried and she doesn't feel particularly sad. Not that she feels happy either. In truth, she hasn't felt much of anything aside from a general tightness in her belly, as if her stomach is making a fist. "No," Liz replies, "not sad exactly."

"What is it, then?" Owen asks.

"I'm not all that sad," Liz says, "because Sadie hadn't been Sadie for a while, and I knew this would happen eventually." Liz pauses, trying to precisely articulate her feelings. "What I am is a mix of scared, happy, and excited, I think."

"All those things at once?" Owen asks.

"Yes. I'm happy and excited because it's nice to think of my friend somewhere on Earth. I like thinking of a dog, who won't be called Sadie, but will still be my Sadie all the same."

"You said scared, too."

"I worry about the people that will take care of her on Earth. I hope they'll be nice to her, and treat her with good humor and love, and brush her coat, and feed her things other than kibble, because she gets bored always eating the same thing." Liz sighs. "It's such a terribly dangerous thing being a baby when you think about it. So much can go wrong."

Owen kisses Liz gently on the forehead, "Sadie will be fine."

"You don't know that!" Liz protests. "Sadie could end up with people who keep her cooped up all day, or put cigarette butts in her coat." Liz's eyes tear at the thought.

"I know that Sadie will be fine," Owen says calmly.

"But how do you know?"

"I know," he says, "because I choose to believe it is so."

Liz rolls her eyes. "Sometimes, Owen, you can be so totally full of it."

Owen's feelings are hurt. He doesn't speak to Liz for the rest of the car ride home.

Later that night, Liz weeps for Sadie. She weeps so loudly she wakes Betty.

"Oh, doll," Betty says, "you can get another dog if you want. I know it won't be Sadie, but..."

"No," Liz replies through her tears. "I can't. I just can't."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll never have another dog," Liz says firmly, "and please don't ever, ever, ever mention it to me again."

A month later, Liz changes her mind when an aged pug named Lucy arrives in Elsewhere. At thirteen years old, Lucy had finally died peacefully in her sleep, in Liz's childhood room. (Liz's possessions had been boxed up years ago, but Lucy never stopped sleeping there.) From the shore, Liz watches Lucy, slightly arthritic and grayer in the face, waddle down the boardwalk. She waddles right up to Liz and wags her loosely curled tail three times. She cocks her head, squinting up at Liz with bulging brown eyes.

"Where've you been?" Lucy asks.

"I died," Liz answers in Canine.

"Oh right, I tried not to think about that too much. I just pretended you went to college early and didn't visit very often." Lucy nods her sweet wrinkly head. "We missed you a lot, you know. Alvy, Olivia, Arthur, and me."

"I missed you guys, too." Liz lifts Lucy up from the ground and holds the heavy little lapdog in her arms.

"You've gained weight," Liz teases.

"Only a pound or two or maybe three, no more than that," Lucy answers. "Personally, I think I look better with a little heft."

"Multum in parvo," Liz jokes. It's Latin, meaning "much in little." This is the pug motto and a favorite joke of Liz's family because of Lucy's tendency to gain weight.

"Liz," Lucy asks, squinting up at the sky, "is this upthere? Is this . . . heaven?"

"I don't know," Liz answers.

"It isn't 'down there,' is it?"

"I certainly don't think so." Liz laughs.

The dog gently sniffs the air. "Well, it smells a lot like Earth," she concludes, "only a bit saltier."

"It's good that you can speak so well now," Lucy whispers in Liz's ear. "I have so much to tell you about everything and everybody."

Liz smiles. "I can't wait."

"But first, let's get something to eat, and then take a nap. And a bath, then a nap. Then something else to eat, and maybe a walk. But then definitely something else to eat."

Liz sets Lucy on the ground, and the two walk home with Lucy chattering away.

Amadou

On the same day Liz retires from the Division of Domestic Animals, a man she knows very well, but has never before met, stops by her office. The man looks different in person than he did through the binoculars. His eyes are softer, but the lines between his eyebrows are more pronounced.

"I am Amadou Bonamy." He speaks precisely, with a slight FrenchHaitian accent.

Liz takes a deep breath before answering. "I know who you are."

Amadou notices the balloons from Liz's retirement party. "You are having a celebration. I will come back," he says.

"The party is for my retirement. If you come back, you won't find me again. Please come in."

Amadou nods. "I recently died of cancer," he says. "It was lung cancer. I did not smoke, but my father did."

Liz nods.

"I have not driven a cab for many years. I finished college at night and I became a teacher."

Liz nods again.

"All these years, I have felt despair as you cannot imagine. I hit you with my cab and I did not stop."

"You called the hospital from a pay phone, right?" Liz asks.

Amadou nods. He looks down at his shoes.

"I've thought about it more than anybody, I guess. I've thought about it, and stopping probably wouldn't have made a difference anyway," Liz says, placing her hand on Amadou's arm.

There are tears in Amadou's eyes. "I kept wishing I would get caught."

"It wasn't your fault," Liz says. "I didn't look both ways."

"You must tell me honestly. Has your life been very bad here?"

Liz thinks about Amadou's question before she answers. "No. My life has been good actually."

"But you must have missed many things?"

"As I've come to see it, my life would have been either here or elsewhere anyway," Liz replies.

"Is that a joke?" Amadou asks.

"If it amuses you, it is." Liz laughs a little. "So, Amadou, may I ask you why you didn't stop that day? I've always wanted to know."

"This is no excuse, but my little boy had been very sick. The medical bills were astounding. If I had lost the cab or your parents had asked for money, I did not know what would have happened to me or my family. I was desperate. Of course, this is no excuse." Amadou shakes his head.

"Can you ever forgive me?"

"I forgave you long ago," Liz says.

"But you were so young," Amadou says. "I stole many good years from you."

"A life isn't measured in hours and minutes. It's the quality, not the length. All things considered, I've been luckier than most. Almost sixteen good years on Earth, and I've already had eight good ones here. I expect to have almost eight more before all's said and done. Nearly thirty-two years total, and that's not too shabby."

"You're seven years old now? You seem very mature."

"Well, I'm seven-eight now, and it's different than being plain seven. I would have been twentyfour, you know," Liz says. "I do feel myself getting younger some days."

"What does it feel like?" Amadou asks.

Liz thinks for a moment before she answers. "Like falling asleep one minute, like waking up the next. Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I'm worried I will forget." Liz laughs. "I remember the first day I felt truly young. It was when my little brother, Alvy, turned twelve. I had turned eleven that same year."

"It must be strange," Amadou says. "This getting younger."

Liz shrugs. "You get older, you get younger, and I'm not sure the difference is as great as I once thought. Would you like a balloon for your son?"

"Thank you," Amadou replies, selecting a red one from a large bouquet of balloons that sits by Liz's desk. "How did you know my son was here?" he asks.

"I've been watching you off and on for years," Liz admits. "I know he is a good boy and I know you are a good man."

Childhood

Owen is six, and Liz is four.

When the weather is fine, they spend afternoons in Betty's garden. He wears a paper crown, she a pink tutu.

On the last of a fortnight of fine days, Liz places an old copy of Tuck Everlasting in Owen's lap.

"What's that for?" Owen asks.

"Story?" Liz smiles sweetly, revealing brand-new baby teeth.

"I don't want to read your stupid girl book," Owen says. "Read it yourself."

Liz decides to take Owen's advice. She picks up the book and holds it in front of her. And then, the strangest thing happens. She finds she cannot read. Maybe it's my eyes, she thinks. She squints at the text, but it makes no difference.

"Owen," says Liz, "there's something wrong with this book."

"Let me see it," Owen says. He opens the book, inspects it, and returns it to her. "There's nothing wrong with it, Liz," he declares.

Liz holds the book as close to her eyes as she can and then at arm's length. Although she does not know why, she laughs. She hands it to Owen. "You do it," she commands.

"Oh, all right," Owen says. "Honesdy, Liz, you're such a bore." He removes the bookmark and begins to read from Tuck Everlasting with a distinct lack of feeling: " ' "Pa thinks it's something left over from well, from some other plan for the way the world should be," said Jesse. "Some plan that didn't work out too good. And so everything was changed. Except that the spring was passed over, somehow or other. Maybe he's right. I don't know. But you see " ' "

Liz interrupts him. "Owen."

Owen tosses the book aside, frustrated. "What is it now? You shouldn't ask a person to read just to interrupt."

"Owen," Liz continues, "do you remember that game?"

"What game?"

"We were big," says Liz, "I was soooo big, bigger every day, and our faces were like this all the time." Liz frowns and furrows her brow in an exaggerated fashion. "And there was a house and a school. And a car and a job and a dog! And I was old! I was more old than you! And everything was rush-rush quick, and hard, so hard." Liz laughs again, a chortling little bird call of a laugh.

After a moment, Owen answers, "I remember."

"I wonder," says Liz, "I wonder what was so . . . hard?"

"It was just a dumb game, Liz."

"It was a dumb game," Liz agrees. "Let's not play it anymore."

Owen nods. "We won't."

"I think I was ... I think I was ... I was dead." Liz begins to cry.

Owen can't stand to see Liz cry. He takes Liz in his arms. She is so small now. When had that happened? he wonders. "Don't be scared, Liz," he says, "it was just a game, remember."

"Oh, right," she says, "I forgot."

"May I continue your story now?" Owen asks, picking up the book.

Liz nods, and Owen begins to read again.

" ' "But you see, Winnie Foster, when I told you before I'm a hundred and four years old, I was telling the truth. But I'm really only seventeen. And, so far as I know, I'll stay seventeen till the end of the world." ' " Owen sets down the book. "That's the end of the chapter. Should I read the next one?"

"Please," says Liz, sticking her thumb happily into her mouth.

Owen sighs and continues to read. " 'Winnie did not believe in fairy tales. She had never longed for a magic wand, did not expect to marry a prince, and was scornful most of the time of her grandmother's elves. So now she sat, mouth open, wide-eyed, not knowing what to make of this extraordinary story. It couldn't not a bit of it be true . . .' "

Liz closes her eyes, and it isn't very long before she falls into a sweet, untroubled sleep.

Birth

On a mild January morning just before dawn, Betty delivers Liz to the launch nurse.

"You look familiar," Dolly says, gently taking the baby from Betty. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Betty shakes her head.

"The baby, she looks familiar, too." The nurse holds Liz up to get a better view. "She looked just like you, I bet."

"Yes," Betty says, "yes."

Dolly tickles Liz under the chin. "Pretty baby," she coos. The nurse lays Liz on the table and begins swaddling her.

"Please." Betty places her hand on the nurse's. "Not too tight."

"Don't worry," Dolly says pleasantly. "I've done this before."

Many more people attend Liz's second Release than had her first.

In addition to Betty, there is Aldous Ghent who looks much the same as when Liz first met him.

He has more hair now.

And Shelly carries Thandi in a bassinet. Thandi will be making her own journey very soon. She, of course, has less hair now.

And Curds wears a dark suit, although the custom is to wear white at births.

And, of course, Owen is there, too. He is accompanied by Emily Reilly (formerly Welles), who now acts as his occasional babysitter. She tries to interest Owen in the proceedings, but he prefers to play with his toy boat in a puddle. "Don't run off, O," Emily tells him before joining the others to watch the Release.

Owen doesn't watch when they place Liz in the River, next to all the other babies who would be born that day. Nor does he watch when the launch nurse pushes Liz away from the shore into the current that leads back to Earth. To the untrained observer, it seems as if Liz's departure has no effect on Owen whatsoever.

Curtis Jest watches Owen before deciding to go over to him.

"Owen," Curtis asks, "do you remember who that was?"

Owen looks up from playing with the boat. He appears to find Curtis's question very difficult.

"Lizzie?"

"Yes," says Curtis, "that was Lizzie. She was my friend. She was your . . . your friend, too."

Owen continues playing with the boat. He begins singing Liz's name in the unaffected way children will sometimes sing a name. "Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie," he sings. Owen stops singing abruptly and looks up at Curtis. A horrified expression crosses Owen's face. "Is she . . . gone?"

"Yes," says Curtis.

Owen nods. "Gonegonegonegonegone." Owen begins to cry in an undignified manner, although he isn't entirely sure why he is crying. Curtis takes Owen's hand, leading Owen away from the puddle.

"You know," says Curtis, "you may see her again someday."

"Cool," says Owen, and with that, he stops crying.

From across the parking lot, Betty claps her hands. "Cigars and champagne back at the house!"

At Curtis and Betty's house, a pink and white "It's a girl!" banner hangs on the door. Curtis passes out cigars with pink ribbons tied around them. A "Happy Birthday, Liz" sheet cake is served in addition to champagne and punch.

Aldous Ghent eats a forkful of cake and begins to cry. "Birthday cake always depresses me," he says to no one in particular.

Everyone stops talking when Betty clinks a spoon against a champagne flute. "If you wouldn't mind indulging me, I'd like to say a few words about Liz," she says. "Liz was my granddaughter, of course. But if she hadn't come to Elsewhere, I never would have known her at all. I died before she was born.

"Liz was my granddaughter, but also a good friend. She was just a girl when she got here, but she grew into a fine woman. She liked to laugh and she loved spending time with her dogs and her friends. I never would have met my husband if Liz hadn't come into my life." Betty takes Curtis by the hand.

"On Elsewhere, we fool ourselves into thinking we know what will be just because we know the amount of time we have left. We know this, but we never really know what will be.

"We never know what will happen," Betty says, "but I believe good things happen every day. I believe good things happen even when bad things happen. And I believe on a happy day like today, we can still feel a little sad. And that's life, isn't it?" Betty raises her glass. "To Liz!"

What Liz Thinks

It was a pleasant enough life, Liz thinks. Though she could not remember the specific events, she senses something wonderful happened once. And she feels good about the prospects for the next.

Looking at the babies to her rear and fore, left and right, she notices that most of them keep their eyes closed. Why do they keep their eyes closed? she wonders. Don't they know there's so much to see?

As Liz travels down the River, farther and farther away from her home, farther and farther away from Elsewhere, she has many thoughts. Indeed, there is much time for rumination when one is a baby at the start of a long journey.

There is no difference in quality between a life lived forward and a life lived backward, she thinks.

She had come to love this backward life. It was, after all, the only life she had.

Furthermore, she isn't sad to be a baby. As the wisest here know, it isn't a sad thing getting older.

On Earth, the attempt to stay young, in the face of maturity, is futile. And it isn't a sad thing growing younger, either. There was a time Liz was afraid that she would forget things, but by the time she truly began to forget, she forgot to be afraid to forget. Life is kind, the baby thinks.

The waves cradle the babies and rock them to sleep. And before long, this one succumbs, too.

She sleeps; she sleeps.

And when she sleeps, she dreams.

And when she dreams, she dreams of a girl who was lost at sea but one day found the shore.