Page 1 of Inbetweeners
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What have I done?Emmett stood motionless in front of two senior angels.
“You have been selected,” said Azrael.
Emmett glanced over his shoulder, but there was no one behind him and definitely no one either side of him. He was tempted to check overhead, just in case some show-off was hovering up there, but when he saw the frowns on the faces in front of him, he managed to restrain himself.
Why me?was his first thought, followed closely bySelected for what?But Emmett had hardly spoken a word since he’d arrived in Heaven and even now, he couldn’t see a reason for that to change. They’d tell him what they wanted him to know and he’d do whatever it was they wanted him to do. He was a rule-follower. He always had been. Death hadn't changed that.
Judging by the raised eyebrows and scowls Azrael and Hadraniel were exchanging, they were obviously engaged in some unspoken conversation. Emmett just stood and patiently waited. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do. There was never any urgency or pressing business up here.
He hadn’t met these two before. He’d been aware of them. Who wouldn’t be? They shone with the ethereal light that came with age. They’d never been human, had only ever been angels. Lesser angels held them in awe.
Emmett was somewhat lower than a lesser angel, a bottom-rung-of-the-ladder angel, and he didn’t hold them in awe. Why should he? He didn’t care about anything or anyone. Though sadly that wasn’t as much of a comfort as he’d hoped. But being summoned to see these two was out of the ordinary and he wondered if he’d done something wrong. Then again, was he even bothered if he had? Had he finally conquered the need to do as he was told?
At least this day was different to any that had gone before. He glanced at the pair again. They were still mind-talking. Hard to say who was prevailing.
Before and after his death, it had been Emmett’s natural inclination to stay on the edges of everything, keeping to the back of crowds, going the way others avoided. He’d never volunteered for anything and he still didn’t. There was no need to up here when at the sound ofwould anyone…so many stepped forward waving their hands regardless of what they’d be asked to do. Emmett never showed excessive enthusiasm, and refused the join the general consensus ofthis is so beautiful, so delicious, so cute, so wonderful…because he didn’t think it was any of those things.
He did just enough to fit in to make sure he didn’t stand out. At least, that had been his plan. He performed his very boring job as best he could, but made only sufficient effort to complete the work he was given, never excel at it. He didn’t want to come to anyone’s attention, though it seemed he had. He’d not broken any rules, that he knew of, though he had to admit, despite claiming the opposite whenever he was asked, and theyfluffingasked himallthe time, he’d not settled in.
How are you finding it here?
How are you settling in?
Made any friends?
Anything you need to make your time fun?
Have you tried group therapy?
The answers weredull, badly, no, no, sort of.Though that was never what he said.Finewas his go-to word. Sufficiently bland, he felt.
Dying when you were thirty-three-years old did tend to put a damper on…life.Oh, a joke. I’m not without humour.At least, he thought he was thirty-three. He wasn’t exactly sure how long he’d been here. One day blended into another. There were no clocks, no seasons, only day and night. Twelve hours of each. He’d heard it said you got the heaven you deserved, so Emmett had to assume he deserved to be bored out of hisfluffingskull. Dull Emmett lived in a very dull Heaven.
The thought that this existence never ended was just…soul destroying.Another slice of humour.He’d almost smiled at that. His mouth had twitched, but no smile had formed. He wondered if there was a group that assisted with soul-destruction, a bit like assisted dying, so instead of Heaven, you got oblivion, but asking would probably lead to more group therapy meetings overseen by aperfect personand Emmett loathed group meetings as much as he loathed snakes. Possibly more.
He’d probably have had more fun in the…other place, but he wasn’t going to be saying that anytime soon, just in case someone decided they’d made a mistake when they’d stuck him on theUpescalator. Saying the name of the place that was at the bottom of theDownescalator was as forbidden as swearing. Emmett had tried cursing into his pillow, not just yellingfluffbut taking you-know-who’s name in vain, and they’d known, sent a group of threeperfect peopleto have a talk with him, or rathertohim. You couldn’t even have your thoughts to yourself.
Emmett glanced up guiltily. Were these two listening to him waffle on?
There was no physical punishment up here, just disappointed faces, expressions of disapproval, lots of carrots in the form of activities they considered to be rewards, though Emmett didn’t, compulsory lectures on the way to behave until you did behave, and a packed timetable of group meetings and group activities, all of which involved group hugs. He only just held back his shudder.
Emmett was not a group person. He was not a person who hugged strangers. He wasn’t sure he was a person who hugged anyone. However, it was unacceptable not to conform. Theperfect peoplehad endless patience, constant smiles.You’ll belong,they told him.You’ll come to love it here.No, Emmett didn’t think he would.
When acceptance had finally sunk in that this was all he had, that there was nothing better to look forward to, and that there was no end in sight—ever, he’d withdrawn into himself. He was still in the process of that, pulling into his shell like a tortoise, and he’d continue doing that until, with a bit of luck, he lost his mind. His own personal version of assisted dying. Would they allow that to happen? Because he’d not seen anyone with dementia up here. He sighed.
Emmett spoke when spoken to, managed a slight curve of his lip when it was expected, though never a full smile. His mouth had forgotten how to do that. He had no friends, didn’t want any friends, and he never started a conversation with anyone, despite that being on his list of ten things to do before his next dreaded group meeting. Though not at the top. That went toStart the day with a smile!With one of those vile emojis. Walk out of your pod and say good-morning to the first person you see!!Two exclamation marks.Ask to sit with someone at lunch!Back to one exclamation mark…Well, they couldfluffing fluff off!!!!With four exclamation marks.
Azrael and Hadraniel were still chatting, and it looked heated now. Emmett wondered what there was about him that could stir any sort of disagreement. He’d done his best to be the blandest person ever. Though when he was in his bed, then came the waking-dreams of what could have been. A different life to the one he’d left, not that he could remember most of it. But having someone who could put up with him, someone who made him smile and whom he could make smile, someone with whom he could spend the rest of his life…
All lost forever. Someone to spend death with hadn’t yet come onto his radar, though he did sort of look. Just in case. But everyone was tooblippinghappy.
Emmett had chosen not to remember his former life, not his parents, family, friends or how he died, not even his surname. He’d figured those memories would make this continued, albeit unexpected existence, too painful to bear, missing what he could no longer have. Although now he was all too aware that he didn’t know whether he’d said farewell to good memories or bad. Maybe he’d had a father who was a serial killer. Maybe Emmett had been happily married with kids. There were a lot of questions to which he’d never have answers. He’d made his bed…
But one thing hedidknow was that when he was feeling particularly depressed, he longed for memories to comfort him. Places he’d been to with friends. Christmas morning with a boyfriend. Holidays with the same. Cycling down country lanes. Picnics on a beach. He had to make up what he didn’t know. Maybe that was safer anyway, rather than be let down by remembering boyfriends who’d cheated on him, the holidays he’d spent alone, ditto with Christmas.
He couldn’t help torturing himself with what he’d lost. Not that feeling low was allowed here. Theperfect peoplearrived to cheer him up almost before he’d heaved his first sigh. Even worse, he feltfluffingguilty resenting those who only had good in their hearts. They genuinely cared, but they were soblippingannoying.
