A ways into the trip, I was going cross-eyed from staring at the endless road, while listening to Heaven’s phone, which wouldn’t stop beeping, buzzing, and generally announcing itself to the world. It sounded like she was friends with the entire population of LA.
It had been a very long time since I’d driven. A car had always seemed like more money down the drain, money that I’d rather spend on Netflix and a fluffy robe and maybe some at-home gel nail kits. But there was something about it, the independence, the feeling of taking destiny into my own hands. The open road and the adventure—it was a little bit John Wayne. The road was a metaphor for life for a reason. Follow the yellow lines to your destiny, which could be found anywhere: the largest ball of twine, Mount Rushmore, or the snack aisle at a gas station. But it was also a little triggering—the endlessness of it all.
Several hours from LA, where California turns to desert, I pulled over to a scenic overlook because my vision was blurring, plus why not. It was a road trip and I could use a snack. I glanced in the rearview mirror at the stack of coconut water I’d brought. Time to give it a go. With a twist, I opened the top of one of the grown-up juice boxes. Without thinking twice, I took a sip. It wasn’t blood, but there was something satisfying about it, an oddly thick liquid with a salty sweetness to it. As a servant of the devil, I couldn’t partake in any human food or drink except fordrugs and alcohol. And, apparently, coconut water. So far it was going down smooth.
The land was flat and there was nothing to look at but dried sagebrush tumbling across the barren landscape. Leaning against the hearse, I looked toward the sky, mouth agape. It was the first time I’d seen stars in years. An entire cosmos I’d forgotten existed stared back at me.
My skin prickled with vitality. I’d been in that little box of an apartment distracting myself with online shopping and makeup tutorials, lost to the fact that I was part of a greater world. A small part, yes, but a part of this universe nonetheless.
Gazing at the stars, I chugged the box of liquid sunshine. This could be it—the loophole that got me out of being a bloodthirsty wench for all of eternity. Coconut water was the new black.
What did it even mean to be alive? A heartbeat, brain waves, or could it be something I had forgotten? Whatever it was, I was more alive tonight on this abandoned roadside in the middle of the California desert than I had been in a very long time.
Heaven’s phone pinged again. Was this the hallmark of popularity in 2024, or her daily reminder that she was alive?
The notifications section on her phone was a mile long. There were a lot of missed texts from Gemma and too many Instagram and TikTok notifications to count. One click brought up her TikTok profile pic—Heaven on a beach in a bikini, rays of sunlight streaming around her like she was on the cover of a brochure for a religious order.
Her profile: RadianceGlobalLifeCoaching. Her bio: “Turn to the sun. Embrace your power. Wake TF up!” Each sentence was punctuated by an emoji.
Turn to the sun? Not anymore, unless she wanted to burst into flames.
She had a blue check, a gazillion posts, and even more followers. I scrolled through her reels. Each one started with a dramatic “Greatest of grand risings!” greeting and most were recorded on the walkway outside our apartments. Her notifications included a ton of comments:
“hey wya?”
“no monday glow up?”
“Follow @209hotgirlsonthebeach20333 for sexy fun! #beach #hot”
I scrolled back to her last post.
“Get ready, my peoples,” virtual Heaven proclaimed. “I am about to share some wisdom from the heart. If you’ve been feeling your light dim, I got you. Life-changing demo tomorrow!”
I glanced back at the casket. She’d missed that demo.
I drew back my arm, preparing to hurl (or, more realistically, poorly lob) the phone into the desert for good, when something stopped me. These people were looking for Heaven. I might not understand it, but this woman in a Care Bear T-shirt had an audience who needed her.
Another notification flashed across the screen: “I miss you girl!”
This was not good. I’d known she was an influencer, but I thought that was just something she said.
Plus, Gemma was probably going to come busting into her apartment any moment now. Pretty soon, someone would realize that: 1) Heaven had disappeared without a word, 2) so did her neighbor, 3) they left in a hearse, and 4) her phone’s last known cell phone tower ping was in the desert several hours from LA. That was anotherDatelinespecial. Smearing the security camera with avocado oil would only add to the suspicion of wrongdoing.
I glanced at the coffin.
Heaven failing to show up online was basically a no call, no show at a regular job.
I tapped the reverse button on the camera and aimed it at myself.
“Hello,” I began. No, that wasn’t right. I was meant to be Heaven’s stand-in. I cleared my throat and said, “Greatest of grand risings.” And itwasa grand rising. Heaven was about to wake up to eternal life.
“My name is Tiffenie, and I’m a friend of Heaven’s. Heaven is resting from a sudden illness. Until she’s better, I’ll be filling in.”
A barrage of comments and heart emojis filled my screen.
“What about the life-changing demo?” read one.
Filled with sudden inspiration, I continued. “I don’t know what Heaven was planning to talk about, but I have some simple advice. You’ve probably heard it before, but I’d like to remind whoever is listening that it’s never too late. It’s never too late to watch that show that everyone already watched two years ago, never too late to apologize, never too late to say I love you, or never too late to move to Vermont on a whim.”
