The Happy Place

By MK Tasker

Imagine having the chance to see yourself from the outside, a chance to look at your life in detail, relationships you have built, would you?
Mary wasnt given a choice. She had to watch her life from the other side and face the truth about herself, and her perfect life, which wasnt that perfect after all.
What do you do, when you realise that the life you lived was fake, and everything you believed in wasnt real?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Mar 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481786515

Book preview

THE

HAPPY PLACE

MK TASKER

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2013 by MK TASKER. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse    03/08/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8650-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8651-5 (e)

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Illustrators: Horbachova Nataliia, Aleksiienko Ievhenij and

Khalamenda Marina

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Life as We DON’T know it.

To Neil, the best husband in the world,

for his support and inspiration.

To my Mum and Dad, for example of strength,

wisdom and dedication in life.

To my big Brother, for amazing sense of humor.

And to my Nan Zhannetta, the best storyteller of all.

My name is Mary and I am thirty three years old. Well, I was when I died. My death wasn’t planned and turned out as an unexpected surprise. Did it upset me? Not as much as you would think. And let me tell you why . . .

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CHAPTER ONE

MY HOUSE WAS the biggest on the street. I fell in love with it at a glance. This house had a beautiful front garden, with many different trees and flowers. A wide driveway, which could fit at least six cars. Heavy metal gates with metal roses. It felt special to me. Unlike other houses on the street, this one had many big windows. Way more than any house such size would have. At first viewing I counted them, just out of curiosity,—fifty two in total. This house was what I call 3B (big, bright and beautiful); it had character, personality, history, almost bargain price. When we finally bought it with my husband, I couldn’t be happier. I dreamt of all Christmas dinners we would have, fabulous parties we would host, and big family we would raise. It was a perfect place to have kids, settle down and grow old. Everything in my life seemed to be perfect and down to plan as I always wanted, except for one thing that happened soon after we had bought the house—I died. It’s a strange feeling when something happens to you out of blue and you don’t have any control over the situation. You actually struggle to understand what is happening and how to deal with the outcome. I died really fast. Nothing like you see in movies. No pain. No fear. No suffer. At first I didn’t even understand what had just happened. I was having a bath and all of a sudden I felt really cold and shaky, couldn’t breathe. Having got out of the bath and noticed that my body was still in it. For few seconds I couldn’t understand what I was looking at. I was sure that I was standing on the floor, but seeing myself at the same time in the bath . . . was strange, to say the least.

Moment of personal death is strange and undeniable. Turns out life and death are inseparable. I was still standing on the floor as if I was alive: I could see everything, I could think, I could move, so why was I looking at part of me which couldn’t do those things anymore? For a moment I thought, what if I try to reunite with my own body . . . but common sense and bad smell of dead flash ruled that idea over. I have never been ill in my life, so why did I die? What happened to me? There was something unnatural in my death. It’s not just the fact I felt as if I was alive—personal human habits don’t die the same time as you do. I walked out the bathroom, picked up my phone (which surprised me a little, I always had standard idea from movies that ghosts incapable of picking up real objects) and was about to call everyone I know to let them know that I have just died. I could just imagine how that massage would sound: Hi! It’s Mary, I just died so please don’t send me the invite for your dinner party, cancel my gym membership, cancel my table reservation . . . cancel me from your life and please attend my funeral. Devastated and confused I went to bed. I had never felt so sorry for myself . . . Actually I have never been in situation before when I would feel sorry for myself. I always had been in control of my life and all things that were happening to me. Hate changes. I felt so helpless that I could die again. I started to think how much will things change now around here . . . what will happen to my husband, to family, parents, my friends, my house . . . and the scariest thought of all was What If nothing will change? What if people won’t even notice that I am gone?

I LOVED MY husband. We had been married for ten years. In next few years we were thinking of having a baby. Together we were a great team. And now I felt like I was letting him down. Since we moved here, Jack started to have more business trips. Every week for three-four days I stayed on my own. I quitted my job about five years ago. My husband was so successful with his business; there was no need for me to work. I suppose we could have kids earlier with all free time I had. But Jack always said that we needed to get a big house first, pay off the mortgage, save some money and only then have kids. According to Jack it was not fair on the child to bring him or her to life without being able to give all the best. As all these thoughts were going through my head the door bell rang. It was Rita, my housekeeper. I always scheduled her working hours for those days when Jack was away. I hated to spend so much time alone in such a big house. And I valued my time with Jack so much that I didn’t want any interruption. Rita opened the door with her own key. I knew that she will start to clean the house with my bedroom. My bedroom always had to be cleaned first, because although I hated to be alone in the house, most of the time while Rita in, I would spend in my bedroom. I could just imagine her face when she sees my body in the bath. In stupid way, I just couldn’t wait to see her reaction . . . She walked in with a vacuum cleaner. Vacuumed the carpet, dusted the furniture, and only then walked into the bathroom. When she opened the door, she didn’t even make a sound—just fell unconscious on the floor.

Oh, common! Like you never seen dead body before! I said. I got up the bed to check on her. I really didn’t want her to die here for two reasons: first—I needed her to call ambulance so my body would look normal on the funeral; and second—it’s just would be a scene from a bad comedy movie—two dead women (one of them naked) in one bathroom. Her pulse was very strong which was promising. It took her a while to wake up, but she did after all. As soon as she was conscious she ran towards the bath, but just looking at the color of my body, you understand clearly that it’s a dead body. It was ice blue, somehow curved in a strange position. She stormed out and if I wouldn’t know her I would think she was running away. Happy as an idiot I followed her downstairs; it was time to get rid of dead body. The smell of dead flash started to spread all over the house and it wasn’t pleasant.

I heard Rita talking on the phone. To my surprise it wasn’t police or ambulance, it was Jack on the loudspeaker: . . . Calm down Rita, just call police and Emma. Everything will be fine. Listen Rita, since she is already dead, and nothing really can be done for her now, I see no point to cancel my trip. The funeral will be in two—three days, I will be on time. So you do what I asked you to do, and I will see you at the funeral. Don’t worry you will keep your job. She hung up, and then called police and ambulance.

He doesn’t see the point of canceling his trip because I am already dead?! I was devastated. I never expected that from my husband. We had been married for ten years. That is something big in my opinion . . . Yes, we had ups and downs and lately it had been more down . . . I know I forced him to buy this house, but I knew that if we wouldn’t be able to afford it, he would never let me push him into this purchase. I always thought that I was the most important to him, and no matter what I could count on him, at least in such simple things as showing respect and care for the last time . . . I sat on the stairs going through it over and over again in my mind, looking for explanation. May be he is right? He still has a mortgage to pay, and I am dead, there was nothing he could do about it. May be the reason isn’t good enough to cancel a business trip after all? At least he will be at my funeral, and that is also important . . .

Then I heard Rita talking to Emma. Emma is my older sister who always criticized me and all my