“I’m gettin’ there.” For me to sell my place at God’s knee, I’d need enough money to make my dreams come true. Like seeing the Eiffel Tower and opening Shear Elegance. I’d get my song lyrics put together with a studio musician.
“How much?”
“Not so fast. If I sold my place in heaven, what would happen to my soul?”
She looks as if she hasn’t given that a thought. “I guess you’d stay on earth with your body.”
“Have you seen my body? Even if I live, I’ll never be the same.”
“You could buy all the special equipment you’d require. Invest in a home gym to suit your needs.” She lifts a hand toward me. “You could buy your momma one of those special vans to haul you around.” She drops her palm to the table and smiles. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Home gym? For who?”
“Whom.”
“That’s what I asked you.” This bizarre hypothetical conversation is making me realize it’s better for me to die. “I don’t want to be a burden to my momma. I don’t want her feeding me and wiping my behind. I don’t want to exist in a useless body until the day I die.”
“On the bright side, you could go to Paris.”
That’s the bright side? “My plans never included Momma wheelin’ me around the Eiffel Tower.” I doubt Momma could make it half a lap.
“Get one of those motorized wheelchairs that can climb stairs.”
“I don’t want to live like that, not for me or for Momma.”
“I’m sure she’d rather have you with her—no matter your disability—than gone.”
The conversation makes me sad, and I feel heavy with emotion. If I stay or go, Momma’s heart gets broken either way. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
She leans back. “I need your path, Brittany.”
“Hypothetically?”
“No. The next time the threshold is opened. You stay here and I’ll take your path.”
I know she’s speaking English but I’m not sure what she’s saying. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s not in the Bible. If it’s not in the Bible, it can’t happen.” Her eyes are getting a little crazy and wild like before she decided to be my friend.
“The Bible is an outdated text. Only uneducated fools cling to their Bibles.” She wraps her hand around my wrist. “I have more money than you can spend in two lifetimes. It’s all yours.”
I stand and look down at her. “No.”
“Do it for Momma.”
“You’re goin’ to hell on a scholarship,” I say, and pull away.
“This isn’t over, Brittany,” she calls after me.
Valentina is on a green couch watching 7th Heaven and I sit next to her. “You were right about Detroit. I talked to her and I got sucked into the evil vortex of Blair Waldorf.”
Valentina glances across the room. “What’d she do?”
“Acted like she wanted to be friends.” So she could buy my place in heaven and leave me to suffer here for all of eternity. “But she’s rude and selfish and out of her pea-pickin’ mind.” And she never did get around to explaining how she was going to compensate me from heaven—if that’s where she’d go.
I can feel Detroit’s eyes on me, but I kick back and listen to Valentina’s plans for her future.