The automatic doors of Beacon General glide closed behind me. I should have never agreed to do this. I’m not strong enough to handle this. The thoughts are spiraling through my head.

I try to breathe out the anxiety, but the air is as thick as the smog in downtown Atlanta when I used to commute everyday. The difference now is rather than exhaust and honks, lurking souls fill the void.

As I turn to hightail it back to the safety of being anywhere but inside this hospital, a voice penetrates my cloud of dread. “Mr. Tinker, is that you?”

Karla’s presence distracts me from my hyperventilating.

She is certainly not the little girl I remember clutching to her father’s side during numerous work events and dinners. The unruly brown hair Dan was always desperately trying to wrangle has been replaced with straight black locks streaked with purple. Befitting of a loved one in mourning, Karla is wearing all black. However, her outfit choice seems straight out of a display from one of those stores in the mall with dim lighting and blaring metal music that I would typically avert my eyes from. The skull and crossbones embroidered on the bottom left of her skirt seems particularly morose given the circumstances.

Her Facebook message last night didn’t say much, but she begged me to help her talk to her father one last time because he had died in a car accident. I couldn’t say no for Dan’s sake.

“Karla, wow you are a woman grown now. I think the last time I saw you, you were… 11… 12? Almost 10 years. I wish I could say we were meeting again under different circumstances. I’m so sorry about your dad. He was a great friend and coworker.”

She cocks her head at me. “Thank you. Let’s get this over with.”

That seems a strange way to put it, but who am I to judge how someone else handles their grief?

“As you wish. Just to remind you, honey, it may not work. I have not practiced in years and especially not in such a teeming environment as a hospital.”

“I really hope you can do it, Mr. Tinker. You’re my only chance.” The poor girl looks almost desperate so I want to console her.

“I will do my best. The most important thing to remember is that he loved you no matter what.” At that, her face contorts slightly. “Oh no, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s try.“

Without hesitation, Karla’s face returns to a neutral expression and her black Converse shoes squeak on the white linoleum as she whirls toward the main lobby. I shuffle after her and focus on maintaining a protective barrier in my mind. However, it is only comparable to an electric wire - its most notable quality is prevention but those bold enough will make the dash across eventually. And, maybe they will actually enjoy the temporary jolt of life in the process.

Only a few chairs are filled with family members presumably killing time to receive surgery news. There is not much action in this small suburban area.

“Where are we heading?” I catch up to her as we reach the far side of the lobby.

“I’ll be right back.” Not answering my question, she smoothly walks over to a room marked “Employees Only” and enters. Hmm, maybe she knows someone who works at the hospital, I wonder. She returns a moment later carrying a white box.

“Oh yeah, his body is in the morgue so we’ll go down there. Nobody will ask any questions if we’re bringing down some birthday cake.”

I eye the half-eaten cake through the top and make out “40th” and “anice!” in swooshy blue icing. How did she even think of doing such a thing?

“That seems extreme, Karla. I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”

“Oh Mr. Tinker, if I have to talk to anyone about us trying to see my… my dad… I’ll just lose it. This is easier for me, please.” Her eyes are golden honeycombs beseeching me to understand.

She really is having a hard time with this. “Of course, sweetie. I get that. Alright now.”

Karla presses ‘B’ once we are in the elevator. My mind meanders to thoughts of all the bodies waiting in the morgue.

In an instant, my consciousness becomes secondary. “Come on, damn it!” A doctor shouts as he frantically pushes up and down on a man’s chest.

The guerney takes up most of the small space and blood flows too rapidly from the man down to the floor. The doctor gives a couple more halfhearted pushes and shakes his head. “He’s gone.” When he steps back, I can see the face cannot be any older than Karla. He has light stubble across his cheeks and a few acne spots here and there.

The voice reverberates across my eardrums like a fully loaded surround sound system. “Tell my parents I love them. I didn’t mean to. I was just playing around and it went off. I don’t want to die.”

I feel the anguish pulse from my head down through my limbs and out of each finger and toe before I am me again. I squint my eyes open to find my hands are covering my face, not that it helped shield me from witnessing that horror.

“Was that him? That was a vision, right? Did you see my dad?” Karla does not acknowledge my trembling. I prefer the term “connection” over “vision”, and I have not left the small radius around my house in several years to avoid the emotional trauma of unwanted visitors.

“No, it wasn’t him. Unfortunately, a young man passed away in here a few months ago.” My throat is raw and my voice raspy. I should have thought to bring a water bottle.

“Bummer.” She shifts the cake box to her other arm.

The elevator doors open with a ding. I have aged a decade in only going down one floor. I would not mind being escorted out of the hospital to stop this whole endeavor now, but unfortunately no one is around to challenge Karla’s cake story.

In front of the morgue door, I halt. “Why don’t you stay out here while I go in? You shouldn’t have to see him like this.”

She does not seem particularly concerned. “It’s alright. I would rather be with you when you talk with him.”

I don’t know what new levels of hell I will face within the room but I do know I am ready to get this day over with and return to my bubble rather than argue. I steady myself and push the door open.

There is only one body bag on a metal table; however, there is no shortage of spirits in the room. The washing machine commences on a high speed load.

“Who will take care of my cat?”

“I want Monica to pay for what she did.”

“It’s not fair! I want to go home.”

“I never got to tell her I love her again.”

I am overcome with a multitude of consciences all vying for attention. The closest experience I have had to this was when I drove by a recent bus crash on the highway.

It takes all my strength to build a dam and regain control. I find myself on the floor this time with tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Did you get anything that time? You were out for a few minutes.”

“There are a lot of hallowed souls down here. But no, I don’t believe I found your father..” My body aches.

Karla strides over to the body bag and unzips it. “How about now?” I stare at her with my mouth agape. She gentles her tone, “Please, Mr. Tinker. I just want to talk to him.”

I don’t want to look at my old friend. But, here I am in my beaten state. Dan’s face is not mangled so he could just be sleeping I pretend. Having a tangible connection goal makes it easier to block out others, so I focus on Dan’s aura and the kind, unjudging person he was. The universe returns the equivalent of “crickets”. I do not feel any sort of electric buzz.

“He’s not here, Karla. Some connections are stronger where they died or places they loved. And others do not wish to speak to me.”

“Ugh,” she groans impatiently. And then an idea sparks. “We’ll try the OR then.”

“I know you want to talk to him again, honey, but I just don’t think it’s going to happen. At least not today.”

“It has to be today! Let’s go upstairs.” She quickly mumbles, “Goodbye, Dad” and rezips the body bag. The cake box is left forgotten on the next table over.

I have no choice but to hobble after her since she is clearly in an unfit emotional place. I can’t leave her alone when she’s so up and down.

Up to the third floor we go. I spy a water fountain in a small waiting area. “I’m getting some water. I’m parched.”

A tv is loudly blaring a news channel with a local report. “Local authorities in Fulton county are investigating a-“. The audio cuts off mid sentence.

I straighten up from the fountain to see Karla setting down a remote. “I just can’t handle hearing any more bad news. I’ll lose it.”

I pat her on the shoulder sympathetically. The cold water has helped me recover slightly.

Okay Dan, if you are here, now would be the time to reach out. Your daughter needs to tell you how much she loves you to help her grieve. I throw all my might into sending probing signals through the hospital walls.

I feel a small tug; a fish nibbling on my lure. And then, I am reeling. I can’t pull too hard or the line may snap.

“He’s here, Karla. I’ll tell him how much you love and miss him.”

“Yes, yes. Also ask him what the code to the safe is. All his important documents are in there so I need to get everything in order. I thought it was my birthday, but it didn’t work.”

Karla’s words are mostly drowned out as I hold steady to channel Dan’s fragmented thoughts. “He’s saying he knows you have had your differences lately but he loves you very much. He wishes he could see you grow into the sophisticated woman he knows you can be.”

“Love him too.” Karla rushes out. “And the code?”

“Your mother’s birthday.”

“She’s been gone for 20 years, and I should have known he still chose her over me. Okay, thank you. We can wrap this up now.”

The connection breaks. “I hope you got the closure you need. I’m just so sorry for your loss.”

Karla is backing away. “For sure, this was a lot though. I’m just going to go back home and get into bed now.”

A nurse comes around the corner carrying a patient file. “Hey, stop!” She points at Karla. Karla veers into the stairwell and is gone. The nurse turns to me. “Do you know her? That girl’s picture has been on the news all morning. The police are saying she’s the main suspect in cutting the brakes of her dad’s car. He died yesterday in emergency surgery.”

On my drive home, I see several cop cars and a flipped over sedan ahead. Could this day get any worse? I think of Dan and pray the occupients are okay.

The question is answered for me as the strongest connection I have ever felt grips me. “He had written me out of his will. He ‘wanted me to find my own way and grow up’ after everything I put him through. How can he say he loves me and do that to me? I decided his cash would love me better.”