Sarah Sparrow - A Guide for Murdered Children

The second half was a Q&A devoted to “practical living.” There were a lot of awkward shares around the barfy issue of what Annie called “romantic stuff,” such as the sexual attention of current boyfriends, girlfriends and spouses. When the children of the train first arrived and became tenants, there was a requisite doldrum period of dormancy and indifference. “Landlord sex” confused them, but was no big deal; they were on autopilot, along for the ride. But as their time in the world grew more limited and they moved closer to the moment of balance , the children became dominant. Not only did their landlords lose interest in the sexual act but they found it physically repugnant. When partners and lovers were rebuffed, those individuals grew insecure and tended to become more vocal about their needs. Annie walked the group through various defensive strategies. “Depression and moodiness, backed up by visits to a shrink” was always a good tactic, she said. A protracted, nonspecific illness like mono or Lyme disease was another—anything that provided a plausible excuse for disengagement and overall lack of drive. “Be gentle. If you’re gentle about it and tell them to be patient with you, they usually understand. It will buy you time. Some will get the message, some won’t. Most will . Anyway, by the time you’re focused on your mission, none of that will matter.” In some cases, she advised a breakup as the only solution. “You’ll know what to do, in time,” she said, with that Mona Lisa smile. For thornier issues, she made herself available after Meetings for one-on-ones.

“Mission”? What was their mission, what was their purpose? She called it the moment of balance , but what was that? It was the elephant in the room that was rarely discussed, because Annie said it needn’t be— more shall be revealed . The only thing that was required to know, she said, was that they all had one, a mission and a purpose, and it was “very, very special.” And as long as Annie was calm and confident, well, they were too. She made each of them feel like teacher’s pets.

At the end of the Meeting, they stood in a circle and held hands for the Lord’s Prayer. After Amen , the group shouted, “More shall be revealed!”—their favorite part. To top things off, the Meeting’s goofiest, most senior citizen (Maya’s favorite) would exultantly crow “Yabba Dabba Doo!,” sending the room into paroxysms of laughter that Annie seemed to delight in as well.

One night Daniel finally came.

He was late, just as Lydia had been her first time. He smiled at her and went straight to his chair. Annie paused and introduced him to the others, addressing him by the name she’d written on his Guide .

Ten minutes before the Meeting ended, Maya felt Troy’s hand touch hers. At the moment of contact, they briefly glanced at each other, then kept watery eyes on the Porter while struggling to retain composure; intellectually, it was all still a puzzle to them. Annie was in the middle of responding to a guest when she glanced over—nothing escaped her—and her voice broke with emotion. She quickly looked away.

The presence of siblings in a Meeting was another anomaly, another omen, because such a thing had never happened, at least not on Annie’s watch. (And why hadn’t it? It wasn’t as if a brother and sister had never been murdered before.) The Porter had the feeling they’d been killed by the same person and at the same time; that they’d died together was almost too much for Annie to bear, and the emotions that washed over her were new as well. How was it possible she was feeling such anguish, such despair? That puzzled her because she would never have survived the last sixteen years if she had felt the way she did now.

She took it as another sign that her sacred hours with the basement children were coming to a close.

2.

It was a strange time—a strange time within manifest strangeness.

Daniel had moved into Lydia’s home because neither one of them wanted to be alone. But now, something much more than human need drove them. More had been revealed…

Brother and sister were unembarrassed by the initial sex play that occurred between them when they first inhabited their landlords. It seemed “natural” enough. But as they grew into who they were, or once were—sibling children—they stopped all that without too much fuss. Meanwhile, they employed Annie’s stratagem of keeping the wolves at bay by no longer bothering to quash innuendo or refute their “relationship” among coworkers and peers. They cagily didn’t flaunt it either, their coyness sealing the deal for those who were still unconvinced that they were lovers. Touching hands at the Meeting, they received spontaneous transmission of who and what they were—Maya and Troy—and if they knew nothing else, the secret knowledge was more than enough for now. They came to perceive the design of their return as being “perfect,” even though the concept and meaning of that return still drew a blank. The maturity and animal strength of Lydia and Daniel (Troy and Maya called the landlords their “sleepover friends”) protected them like a nautilus shell or even a parent. There seemed to be just enough of the right ingredients that the recipe appeared to be flawless. But the nature of the meal—its mission and purpose—was unknown and still marinating.

Where did that leave them?

In other words, what had happened? What were they doing here? What were they doing anywhere ? Annie cautioned that such questions were too large, and irrelevant to the moment. But smaller ones abounded, presenting themselves as swatches of entangled memory. All those unicorns! They made sense to Daniel now—just as the taste he’d developed for mixing black licorice and popcorn made sense to Lydia.

It was early enough in Maya and Troy’s arrival that the minds of their landlords still dominated, struggling to make sense of their fractured beings. Lydia and Daniel chased down surreal theories, informed by pop culture, film and television (though surreal came up short in describing the impossibly outlandish circumstances), like having been in an accident together as kids and emerging from double comas years later to find themselves partnered as cops. Which really did sound like some god-awful show from the eighties that never made it past the pilot episode. Like cosplay fans at a convention, they obsessed over Annie and everyone else at the Meeting, especially the scholarly, barefooted Dabba Doo. Daniel, being the resident sci-fi nerd, blurted out, “What if we’re just characters in a new Netflix series?” Lydia laughed so hard she almost peed. They knew that the ingredients of the perfect recipe were there (trusting Chef Annie unconditionally) but at this stage, while they could smell the aroma of what was being cooked, they were clueless to the whereabouts of the kitchen.

They still called each other Daniel and Lydia, unwilling or unready to take that next step of spooky ratification. So much hadn’t been revealed—they knew they couldn’t see the forest for the trees—but the little spiders spun their little theories, usually while lying next to each other in their PJs at bedtime. Sometimes they used a flashlight to read the Guide together before sleep, covering themselves with a blanket.

Welcome to orientation! You are not expected to know anything—this is not a test or an exam, so you can relax. (Easier said than done!) It is not an audition either—if you’re here, you’ve already won the part! So take a deep breath and know—TRUST!—that more shall be revealed. I know it’s all a bit overwhelming (to put it mildly!) but in time you will understand your purpose here. So WELCOME HOME, everyone, and GOD BLESS every one of you!