The Ten Best Days of My Life Read Free

I realized that I was flirting like I was in line for a club in LA, not in a line for the gates of heaven.
    â€œHow cute,” he said. “I’m Adam Steele, by the way.” He straightened up and put out his hand.
    â€œAlex Dorenfield,” I smiled.
    â€œWhat do you think of this line?” he asked.
    â€œWhat a pain.” I winced, as if waiting in line to get into heaven was something I did every day.
    â€œHow’d you die?” he asked.
    â€œCar hit me. You?”
    â€œHeart attack. I was at the gym, elliptical, Crunch. It sucks; I didn’t know I had a heart condition. I was only in my mid-thirties and I’m in really good shape, who knew?”
    â€œBummer.”
    â€œYeah, you too,” he said, adding, “Where were you from?”
    â€œLos Angeles. You?”
    â€œNew York.”
    We paused. Would he ask me for a date? Did people date in heaven? Where would we go? Was there a Zagat Heaven Restaurants guide?
    â€œWell, I guess I should get back to my part of the line,” he said.
    It was at this point that I wondered if I should have told him to get in line with me. I envisioned asking Mrs. O’Malley whether it would be all right if the hot guy cut in line next to me so I could flirt more. It seemed sacrilegious.
    â€œMaybe I could get in touch with you sometime,” he said.
    â€œYeah, okay,” I answered as I noticed the Braunsteins smiling at me in that way only Jewish parents who want to see a woman get a boyfriend can.
    â€œThat is, if they have phones up here,” he chuckled.
    â€œYeah,” I chuckled back. Ugh, pathetic.
    And then he went back to his part of the line behind the German schoolchildren and the two old guys playing poker. I looked back at him a couple of times, and he waved and I waved, but that was it. Please let there be phones in heaven.
    Now, believe it or not, for a line with ten thousand people, everything moves pretty quickly. It might have been all that talking and drinking and flirting, but I swear it only took about twenty minutes. They must have really worked on that. I’m sure people have complained throughout the centuries. You finally get up to the gate, which, by the way, really is a gate, and it really is pearly.
    â€œHi, Alex. Hello, Peaches,” a lovely brunette angel with a clipboard greeted us. “Welcome to heaven. Check-in for you is at Building Blissful,” she continued, handing me a map. I took a look at the map. All the buildings were named something heavenly: Building Divine, Building Harmonious, Building Idyllic, and so on. That made me laugh. Heaven is so cliché.
    Now I’m in some kind of waiting room inside Building Blissful. The angel told me that here I’ll find out where I’m going to live. Adam was sent to Building Utopia. Mrs. Braunstein also got Building Blissful, but Mr. Braunstein got Building Idyllic.
    â€œI’m so glad to get rid of him for a bit,” she confided to me. “If he bugs me one more time about not turning that oven off all the way . . . What more can I say? Everyone makes mistakes.”
    So, now we’re in this room, waiting. It’s a lovely room, decorated with light blue walls and comfy butter-cream leather sofas. Looks like a clubhouse at any upscale country club. There’re about twenty of us in here. Again, there’s a full bar and more food. I went straight to the salad bar and made myself a vegetable salad with dressing on the side. Since I didn’t have the hors d’oeuvres, I felt justified in having a salad. Mrs. Braunstein went right to the sundae bar. She nudged me as she passed. “I’m dead, why worry anymore?”
    â€œAlex?” Another angel calls out just as I’m finishing the last of my salad. “They’re ready for you.”
    I give Mrs. Braunstein a kiss good-bye, and we tell each other we’ll try to get together as soon as we know where we’re