Shattered Memories, Part 1

Shattered Memories

There was a nonplussed bleakness about the day that I could not understand no matter how many times my mind wandered over it in search for understanding it. It was as if all the glorious sunshine and happiness had been robbed from the sky and in its place was substituted for darkness.
I gazed bitterly out the window. There were children playing and laughing cheerfully while at the same time a dog was barking in the street. I could not concentrate from the traffic already, and then there was all of this extra noise to keep me angrier.
The day was so far one of the worst in a long time for working, but if I wanted to make more money for Rebecca and me, I would just have to bear with my distractions and keep working.
It was going to be a long day. That was for sure.
I hated my job as an editor this particular day, though generally I loved my job. I then had to work overtime to help pay the bills for living in such an expensive apartment. That particular day I was working on an article that needed to be done by the next day, which was Monday.
I felt like my brain was on fire; like a huge brick had crashed onto my forehead. The pain hadn’t subsided after I took five pain pills. It seemed like I was almost becoming addicted to those strange little pills. After two more hours of sitting there¾my body practically glued to the Velcro chair, I felt like my mind was locked in some sort of altered state of consciousness where I was on the verge of sweating and everything looked distorted. I wasn’t about to sweat because of my work or stress, but because of the unbearable heat that staled the room, making the apartment feel and smell like it was a desert, and my work a seem like a cruel illusion.
Time slid away from me and soon my eyes were so blurry that I could hardly keep them open. I was about to pass out from tiredness.
Slowly I got up from the chair and I made my way to the bedroom. I walked across the white marble floor that shined the reflection of the small beaded lamp on the ceiling off its surface. My shoes glided effortlessly across its smooth surface.
I passed by the artificial blue irises that were next to the staircase in their glass home. Rebecca’s favorite flower, I thought after she had told me that they were the only flowers she remembered when she was a little girl. She wanted to give them a home, like how the flowers made our apartment feel more like home to her.
I always hated those flowers. They seemed to be locked inside of their glass vase, condemned to gaze upon the world blankly with the belief that the world was as artificial as the glass that it saw through. The glass magnified everything, showing me the rich green of their plastic leaves, and furnishing them with the magnified view of the world; knowing and seeing all with a perceptive eye like experts on life¾though they knew know more than I did.
I thought that the strange and magnificent, seemingly substantial world that we inhabit is like one overwhelming, massive glass vase filled with rich green plants and blue sky overflowing from its circular rim. The atmosphere of our existence is only clearly visible because of the transparent veil of glass we call air. The glass captures the light that flashes in front of our eyes the experiences and memories of love, sadness, anger, fear, confusion, and so many more human emotions that an attempt to list them would hardly cover them all, and to produce the slide show of our lives as life gradually passes by.
The light changes day by day, until the irresistible force of death comes when the glass shatters and falls into the air, leaving the light to break away and scatter. This world feels like only one small dot of something much bigger we have yet to know of and maybe never will. That scares me.
I secretly wondered why she had never mentioned that that second home was now her home with me. Every time I tried to find an answer, I went blank¾I froze in hopes that I would just ignore the flowers—like they aren’t really there. They didn’t have to be there if I didn’t want them to be there.
Quietly, I went up the marble staircase. My hand brushed against the mahogany colored wood railing that had a little wooded knob at the end. I went right down the hall, passing by a copy of the Edgar Degas painting “Dancers in Blue” where blue ballerinas were dancing in a small circle together. The room’s white door was barely visible in the dark.
I opened the door and exhaustingly lied down on the crisp sheets that had just been washed earlier that day. Rebecca always washed the sheets every 2 to 3 days just because she loved the clean, fresh feeling that she got from them when they had just been washed.
Rebecca turned toward me in the bed where she had been sleeping, a look of disdain and sleepiness in her expression. “Where have you been all this time? It must be almost 11:30,” she questioned me in both a harsh and concerned tone. “I had to do some work,” I replied absently.
“What work can you possibly always be doing this late? You’re never here with me anymore. I’m sick of sleeping alone,” she said concerned. “I know I should be here. It’s just I have a lot of stress at work and this deadline that I have to meet for the publishers. I want to be with you more often. I really do, believe me I do,” I tried to assure her.
There was an unending silence between us. I turned the pillow over to the cold side. It felt so cool on my hot head. I didn’t want to think about how angry Rebecca was. Every time I think about it, it only makes my headaches worse. I already take too many pain pills. The silence became a part of me as I fell into its darkness, waiting for her to say something to me that would free me of its bond. If she yelled at me, I would listen to her. If she didn’t say anything in the next minute, I would try to let the words of regret I always feel for the urge to work flow from my mouth in the undaunted sincerity that I wished I could express to her.
But the words just sat there at the tip of my tongue and waited without movement. I felt so pathetic; I felt like a coward for hurting her so much. I truly loved her with all of my heart, but every moment I’m with her I can‘t tell her how I feel about her, and every move I make is one I will regret. Slowly I turned to her, watching her lying there. I hoped that she would say something to me and then I could tell her that no matter how cold I can seem sometimes, I love her.
“Jason do you remember that time that we walked in Central Park last February,” she asked me softly. “I could never forget that day,” I replied as affectionately as I could.
“That was the best day of my life—just spending time together,” Rebecca told me serenely. “It was the best day of mine too,” I patiently replied, waiting to try to tell her how I feel about her.
I remembered her smile. It was a warm afternoon in February in Manhattan, New York during a year ago in 2004. Rebecca and I were walking through Central Park. All around us tree buds were blooming forth bright beads of petals that clouded the sky with pink and white. The sun sifted brightly through the spaces of the rich green latticework of leaves. We were one of the few people on the road.
Rebecca lifted her head and closed her eyes as she smelled the lightly perfumed breeze that blew through her hair. I silently watched the smile that still lingered on her face.
“It’s beautiful out here, don’t you think?” she asked me. “Yes, it’s very beautiful. God, I love it when you smile. I just want to make that smile mine,” I sweetly said as I began to smile myself. “Well, you can have it,” Rebecca replied. With that, her lips touched mine in a passionate kiss. Our lips locked together as a fervent surge of heat passed through my body. I tasted the sweet lip gloss on her warm, soft lips. Delicately, I held her head in my hands as she wrapped her arms around my waist. Our bodies arched and swayed as we breathed waves of each others breath and our lips massaged in a swirl of warmth.
Her skin felt so soft as I brushed my thumb gently across the petal skin of her cheek.
I began to run my fingers through her dark brown hair, savoring the touch of her delicate stands. Rebecca’s soft moans resonated harmoniously into my ears. With an audible smack our lips parted. Breathlessly, I whispered into her ear—my voice filled with lust, “I love you so much.”
We continued walking down the desolate road. Night began to swiftly fall upon us, and before we knew it, the sun had completely vanished. It began to get cold. I noticed that Rebecca was shivering. I took my jacket off and wrapped it around her. “Thanks, its freezing. But are you sure you won’t be cold?” Rebecca asked, concerned. “Oh, you know me, I’m hot-natured—you’re cold-natured, and I’m just not cold anyway,” I told her, trying to sound comforting, though I knew that it was cold for even someone as hot-natured as me. I would rather let her be warm, and let myself be freezing anyway.
We had got out of Central Park and were on the street of our apartment on 59th Street. The bright street lights were shining all along the long dark ribbon of road, covering the stars out of sight. As we walked further down, the coldness of the night air became unbearable and it’s freezing, unkind winds inflicted their wrath on us. I began to shake and wrapped my arms around my body.
“Oh now you’re shaking too, huh,” Rebecca said sarcastically.
“It hasn’t been cold all day. Why has it suddenly become winter on one of the warmest days so far this year?” I asked in confusion. “I don’t know. It shouldn’t be this cold though, especially on a day like this. But nature is a mystery, don’t you think, Jason? You never know when nature’s gonna change…” she said.
We had finally arrived to the apartment. I got out my keys and my hand shook as I struggled to open the door before my hand became numb.
When I got the door open, we stepped inside through the French white double door. When we were inside, we quietly went up the marble staircase. Our hands brushed against the same mahogany colored wood railing that had the little wooded knob at the end. We went right down the hall, passing by the copy of the Edgar Degas painting “Dancers in Blue”. The room’s white door was barely visible in the dark. I opened the door and we both lied down on the bed’s clean sheets.
Rebecca turned toward me. The same smile she had earlier still lingered on her face. She could see my face glowing in the light shining through the blinds by the bed as she looked into my dark brown eyes and caressed my black hair. I looked into her luminous blue eyes and smiled.
I moved closer to her and wrapped my arms around her like I was a warm blanket while I kissed her so deeply that I never wanted the feeling to end. My lips were forceful upon hers; hard, but yet tender as we caressed our tongues. We took all of our clothes off until we lied on the bed completely nude.
A hot feeling of ecstasy swept over my body. I was enslaved by her beauty. Rebecca was tired, but I believe she felt safe under me because she said in my ear, “I love you so much.” Sweat began to pour down our faces as we made love. We felt the warmth of our bodies as we collided together. It was suffering and a feeling of comfort, like being home.
That night I and Rebecca fell asleep in each others arms. We hadn’t slept like that in months. There was no worrying—no grief or sorrow echoing through our minds about our every day problems. Together, we could escape from all the heartless eyes and spiraling problems that obscured our thoughts and plagued our lives. Sugar-sweet childhood memories…the smiles…the laughter…was what replaced the fog and helplessness that is adulthood.
“Why can’t it be like that between us anymore, Jason,” she pleaded to me; her arms now wrapped around mine, hugging me so tightly that I didn’t want her to let go. “It’s just that…I’m afraid of losing you. I’m not sure what it is, but I just feel like I’m not good enough for you. I want to spend more time with you, and I know that there’s no reason for why I shouldn’t, but I’m afraid that you’ll want to be with someone better than me, because I believe that you deserve someone better than me.
“Jason, you are not going to lose me if you don’t keep pushing me away,” she pleaded with me. “I don’t want to push you away. I just feel like I will anyway,” I told her.
“Well, if that’s how you feel, than how can you not expect to lose me,” she said furiously before adding, “Sleep on the couch tonight, you jerk.” She turned around and faced the other side of the bed, crunched up into a tight ball. I could hear her faintly crying into the pillow. Slowly tears flooded down my cheeks. I didn’t know if I could take how much I had hurt her.
I slowly got up from the bed. My body moved without me telling myself to move. When I got to the door, I slammed it shut. I never should have told her. But if I didn’t then the truth would catch up with me and haunt my every waking moment. It would only cause me to work even more.
I don’t know why I work so much. I guess that working, as much as it tires me out, it lets me forget all the problems Rebecca and I have. But at the same time, working causes all of the problems we have.
The couch looked so out of the ordinary just sitting there, another piece of furniture in an orderly arrangement. Slowly, I sat down. The couch felt comfortable under me, but it wasn’t the same comfort I felt in the bed with Rebecca. I lied down and rested my head on the blue pillows of the white couch. The TV faced me. I grabbed the remote and turned it on.
I wasn’t crying anymore. I didn’t feel anything. There was no use in getting myself all worked up for something I brought upon myself.
I felt like a mindless zombie that drifts aimlessly through life. I felt like at that moment I could sit and stare at all of the marvelous wonders of life such as birth, and death, but yet feel nothing and see nothing. I didn’t feel like I had a life to live for. I thought I might as well be dead. There was no sense in living without trying to live. I loved Rebecca, but I was scared of losing her. I know that my being scared would only push her farther away, but I felt that maybe it would be for the best.
Ever since my father left my mom and my brother and I on the verge of bankruptcy when I was only five, I saw how she had to work two jobs just to support us through school and keep food on the table. I had to grow up without a father. I didn’t want Rebecca and me to end up like how my parents did. It frightened me to think about it. And when I did, I only worked harder to make a better life for us.
I only slept for 2 hours that night. I left the TV on and I just kept my eyes on it, not really watching it. The clock read 9:45 A.M. when I got up. “Great, I’m late,” I said to myself in disgust.
If I was late, Rebecca must have been too, I thought. I slowly walked to the bedroom door, but when I got there, my hand went stiff at the door knob, and I couldn’t open it.
How could I face her after what I did? I hated myself all of a sudden, and I felt like crying. I held the tears back. I didn’t have a right to cry about something that was my fault. I bravely opened the door, prepared to face Rebecca and deal with what I had done. I opened the door and looked in the room.
She wasn’t there.
A stream of anger washed over me. Where was she? I looked all over the house, but she wasn’t anywhere. Then I understood what had happened. She went to work without me. This was her revenge for what I had done.
I rushed to the bed room and put on my black suit with my white long-sleeve button-down shirt, and black leather shoes. I grabbed two bananas and my suit jacket before I ran out the door.
When I went outside, I saw that my car was gone because Rebecca had taken it. I had to be to work at 9:00. It was then10:05. The sky was cloudy and I decided to take my small umbrella with me. I was going to have to walk.
Somehow I made it to work at 10:45 by jogging. When I made it there, I was breathless and on the verge of sweating. My day began with chaos, which usually never happened because I had a relatively stress free job unless I was late. Since I was late, I didn’t have a clue what the heck we were doing.
I was knee-high in confusion when I got there and my coworkers had to explain to me that there had been an article that was never properly edited and we would have to take extra time away from the articles we were working on. This was bad for me because I had already missed the first hour and forty-five minutes of work, and I already had more work that I was expected to do because I was working overtime. I thought I would have to stay later than usual, which meant an extra hour and thirty minutes after the time I got off, which was 9:00 P.M. Then somehow through all of the chaos, I remembered that I could bring home my work with me.
The day was a horrible mess and I was miserable by the time it was over. I was hoping that Rebecca would have the decency to come and pick me up. She came after I had waited for 15 minutes and was about to call it quits and walk home. She pulled the black Mercury Sable next to the curb and I reluctantly got in.
“That was some stunt you pulled on me this morning,” I said dryly. “What stunt?” she said naively. “YOU KNOW DAMN WELL WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT,” I furiously retorted. I couldn’t believe that she could be so self-centered. “WELL, YOU DON’T HAVE TO YELL,” she told me.
“Look, I’m just angry. That’s all,” I said as my voice drifted faintly into silence to where I was almost whispering those last words before raising it again to add, “We both did some mean things to each other.”
It started raining and lightning followed quickly after with no thunder. I listened to the soft tapping it made on the windows.
“Well look, you can go on with your pity story, but I still don’t forgive you. I gave you my heart and you broke it in two,” she said solemnly. A deep mixture of regret and anger swelled up inside of me.
“I‘m sorry,” I said abruptly, trying to prove to her that I really was sorry, though I wished that I could say that I loved her, even though I can‘t tell her that I do, “I know that I act so far away from you sometimes. But I can stay in this if you could just help me through it. I just need you to tell me that we won’t ever break up, and I’ll be fine. I need you to support me in that one area and I can forget about our problems,” I pleaded to her deliriously.
“How can I convince you that we will never break up if you don’t believe it,” she replied with absolute contempt as she stared me directly in the eye and then said, “You don’t even say you love me anymore, and I don‘t want to be with you if you can‘t even say it and mean it.“
I desperately unbuckled the seat belt and slowly bended towards her. I hugged her and I kissed her lips in a fervent attempt for forgiveness. I kissed her forehead and her cheeks…her nose…her chin…her neck. She was silently sitting there with her eyes closed and her lips perched tight together. Then she slowly opened her bright blue eyes. They were glistening with blue fire in them. The same fire they always had.
“Please forgive me. Please, please forgive me, Becca. I want to be with you,” I whispered in hopeless agony into her ear as I kept my arms around her body’s softness, and brushed my cheek gently across hers.
I looked back at her with a look of consummate urgency and anxiousness burned into my expression. She did not take her fire-filled eyes off of mine.
She sat up slowly and hesitated at first, but grabbed me all of a sudden and held me close to her as our lips touched and we kissed. I breathed in her floral scent as it filled my every ache to touch her and feel her warmth again. Then she released me.
She fell flat onto the seat, and carefully searched my pained eyes as tears fell from her eyes. My heart filled with unending despair. The storm outside had entered my heart and raged endlessly inside it.
“I’ve had my heart broken over and over, by you, and I can’t take it anymore. If you are ever ready to really be with me…then maybe I can be with you,” she told me unapologetically. I should have seen it coming, but I just had to hold on to some false sense of hope.
Every part of me felt so hurt. All I felt was an immeasurable ripping pain that tore me up inside. The grief instantly filled me up to the point where I couldn’t hold it inside anymore.
I started laughing. Not loudly¾a small chuckle escaped from my lips, but it really came from a part of me that didn’t want to accept what had just happened. That part of me was the little boy who was alone and frightened and wanted normal lives like all the other kids. I thought I had locked that part of me away in the darkness…forever. But it caught up with me…and now it won’t let me go.
I decided to fight it. “I’m not leaving this car. You’ll have to force me out of this car with all of your strength, but I won’t let you because I love you no matter how much I don‘t show it.”
“If you need me, then why do you always hurt me,” Rebecca demanded.
I paused for a long time and looked into her hurt eyes. It pained me so much, I had to look down at the floor. “I know I have my problems. But you and I can deal with them¾ can’t we?” I begged her, looking up at her again.
“Look, will you please stop…just don‘t speak…because every word that you‘re saying is hurting me.” Her eyes were closed and tears were falling down her cheeks. I tried to hide the sadness in my voice, but I ended up sounding harsh. “Fine, I‘m done talking anyway,” I snapped.
After a long silence, she started the car back up and we drove home. The apartment looked foreign to me as I worried continuously. I watched as Rebecca placed the keys in her black purse and put her purse onto the counter in the kitchen.
“I‘m sorry for what I said,” I apologized to her.
“I don’t know what to do, Jason. You say you are fighting for us to stay together, and then you keep on disappointing me. You never spend any time with me, but instead you would rather work all night long. I just can’t deal with this anymore.
It’s over. The apartment is yours. I can go stay with my sister downtown. You’ve broken my heart. What did you expect?” she confessed to me unashamedly.
“I EXPECTED you to be my girlfriend and help me. I EXPECTED you to give me one more chance.”
“I just don’t love you anymore, Jason. I thought I still did when I kissed you in the car, but I--I just didn’t feel anything anymore.”
I felt like my heart had exploded into a million tiny pieces. “You. Didn’t. Feel. Anything.” The room started to spin. My voice was blank of emotion. Those words didn’t make any sense to me. “You didn’t feel anything?” I walked over to her saying¾my voice seething with anger. “When I kissed you, I felt everything,” I said before I started yelling to her as I grabbed her wrist and held it tight, “I FELT EVERYTHING!” She started yelling to me, “STOP IT. YOU’RE HURTING ME. LET GO!” “I FELT EVERYTHING! DO YOU HEAR ME? I FELT EVERYTHING!” I could hear the heartache in my voice as its echoes bounced off of the walls.
I had pushed her backward until we were next to the stairs when I noticed the flowers. Desperation had taken me the point where I could no longer control myself. “You see these flowers; I hate them because you said they made this apartment feel more like HOME to you. Well take a good look, because this apartment with me is supposed to feel like HOME without these stupid, fake flowers. But I guess you don’t want to live with me anymore, huh.”
I let go of her wrist and walked furiously toward the flowers. I picked the glass vase with them inside of it up in my hand, looked her in the eye and said, “Watch carefully.”
I raised the vase high above my head and with passionate despair, I threw it down hard onto the marble floor. Rebecca jumped back in shock. The glass shattered onto the floor into various jagged pieces as some of the pieces flew into the air. The sound of the cracking glass as it smashed against the floor was a shrilly high-pitched bang that pierced my ears. For a second of watching them fall I felt relief dawn before me as I watched the still flowers and glass lie in an absurd image on the floor like corpses of real flowers that were disregarded.
Rebecca’s hand covered her mouth as she watched the huge satisfied smile that formed on my face fade into a frown as tears formed in my eyes when I looked at her tear-stained, angelic face.
“Get the hell away from me,” she said hatefully as she ran upstairs into the bedroom and slammed the door shut hard.
My mind felt paralyzed, and everything around me an intimidating distortion. I felt like I could throw up. The room started spinning. I sat down on the floor in a state of panic over what I had just done to her. The grief washed over me like an ocean I was drowning in. I couldn’t breath. What did I do?
I got my keys to the car and ran outside. I felt so out of breath as I gasped for air. My mind was constantly haunted by the image of Rebecca with her gentle hand over her mouth and tears sliding down her delicate, soft cheeks. Her panic-stricken eyes wouldn’t leave me; they stayed burned inside of my mind. I felt so horrible. My body felt inhumane. I felt heartless¾like I was some kind of cruel, sick monster that hurts the people I love mercilessly and repeatedly. I wanted to take back all of the terrible things I said and did to her.
I didn’t know what to do. I ran outside. My mind was restless and my body shook from the cold, clammy air that filled my lungs. It was still raining, but I didn’t care if I got wet. A gust of wind whooshed as blew hard into my face. Shivers went down my spine as I felt the cool freshness of the rain running down my face.
I looked at the car and decided to get away from there before my head exploded. The car was parked there at the curb of the road. I looked at it with a faint uncertainty. I tasted the salty sting of the rain as it fell into my open mouth while I panted for air.
Looking down at the wet pavement, I saw all of the dirty water fall down the sewer drain. I wondered what it must be like to splash down into that disgusting blackness. Is it worse than this? I thought. The only difference between me and that dirty rainwater was that it was water. We were both stuck in darkness, and we were both filth.
I warily walked over toward the car. I stood there and looked at it. I didn’t have anywhere to go. Still, I needed to get out of there.
I opened the car door and sat in the car. It was still raining. I turned the car on along with the windshield wipers. The clock read 10:21 PM. My eyes stared blankly out through the windshield. My mind got lost into the swirling drops of falling rain outside as I stared at them and listened to them tap on the car. I began to cry again. I fell apart inside of the car as I kept crying without end. I felt like the world had ended and it was my entire fault. I put my head down on the steering wheel and just cried.
I didn’t care where I went; I just needed to get out of there. I put the car in drive and I sped past the other cars, not paying attention to the lights or any of the other cars. As far as I could tell, anyone driving slower than me was in my way, and anyone driving faster than me must have been having a worse day than me. But I didn’t see anyone driving faster than me.
I made my way to the freeway as I wondered if this was all just some nightmare that I would wake up from and vaguely remember that it wasn’t real. An intense inescapable feeling possessed me. I drove in an unbreakable trance. The cars all looked like insignificant streaks of light as they passed by me in various wild colors. Their lights all shined one by one as they passed along. The road and the cars on it looked like an obscure network of lights. They seemed to spin around along with the city.
I pushed down harder on the accelerator. I went faster and faster down the shadowy road until I was going 80 mph. Tears were falling incessantly from my eyes, blurring them to where I could hardly see. I tried to drive steadily down the road. My eyes and the rain blinded me. I didn’t know where I was going. I quickly let one of my hands go from the wheel to wipe my eyes. When I put them back I was still driving steadily toward an undecided destination.

Out of the shadows, two gigantic headlights that belonged to a massive loading-truck came rushing head-on toward me with unrelenting force. The truck was sliding uncontrollably.
I frantically fought for control of the steering wheel. I turned the steering wheel as far as it would go, until the car was swerving roughly over to the next lane. My heart was pounding mercilessly as I desperately tried to control the car.
A nervous feeling of relief overtook me when I got to the other lane. Suddenly the truck collapsed over sideways. The 24-foot trailer was sliding fast toward me. Sparks of electricity were lit from the friction of its force against the road.
If I moved the car over anymore I would fall down over the railing and into the free-way lane below. The trailer was slowly coming to a stop, but it wouldn‘t stop.
I pushed the brakes down to the floor as my car came halting to a stop. I watched helplessly as the trailer came with full force straight toward me. Cars were being pummeled to the railings and falling over as the trailer exerted a trail of destruction through its fearful track. The truck’s details were magnified to me as I watched it near the tinted glass of my windshield. The shining metal lining of its rim was dulled by the night’s darkness. Its stark and bleak whiteness almost blinded my eyes to the point where I could hardly look at this huge monster racing toward me with no remorse for my life. I kept my eyes open, frozen in shock, and prepared for the inevitable death I faced.
Time stopped and all around me was an otherworldly silence. All of my senses went numb and I became paralyzed. My body would have shook, but my mind was so frightened that I didn’t think to be scared, or even to scream. The truck instantly smashed into me. It came so quickly, I barely felt it as it impacted the windshield and its glass was thrown onto my face. The truck pushed my car forward between its cab and the trailer as it slid further down the road before it finally stopped. Everything went dark.

I awoke into a blindingly white room. I vaguely wondered where I was. Looking down at myself, I noticed I looked exactly the same, but I was sitting in a white chair. The chair and the room were so purely white that they seemed unreal, though I didn’t quite know what real meant anymore. I had only a faint memory of anything at all. Everything I tried to remember seemed familiar, though I didn’t quite know what anything was.
I gazed uninterruptedly across this extraordinarily dreamlike room. I marveled at the room’s colossal achievement of its magnificent, brilliantly coruscating structure. My eyes wondered above my head as I stared astonished at the immense dome that hovered above me and took up what looked like the equivalent of the entire sky. Its surface wasn’t blue and filled with clouds like the sky though, but painted with frescoes that looked like they were painted by gods instead of men. The frescoes seemed to capture the beauty and authenticity of humanity and the world, almost like cameras, but with paint.
The room only seemed faintly real to me. I didn’t understand any of what I was seeing or remembering of my past life. I didn’t even know what life was. The words life and reality had no meaning anymore. It was like I no longer felt dependent on these words to make sense of everything. What was sense anyway?
My eyes had a hard time parting from what I was seeing above me, but curiosity led them astray to the rest of the room. On either side of me their was one long row of chairs equally as bright if not brighter than the one I was sitting in that were filled with people of all colors and shapes and sizes. The people in chairs went farther down along with the room. My eyes tried to see the end of the room, but its immensity carried on past my eyesight.
Looking straight ahead of me, there was a huge black screen that had the number: 420,000 in white on it. There were other screens just like it all across the long, narrow room.
It suddenly occurred to me that this room was a waiting room. I looked over at the person next to me. He was a black man who looked to be in his late thirties. The man had a plain white ticket in his hand. It read in bold black print: 1,234,566. I considered what this could mean but nothing reasonable came to mind. I decided that since I didn’t have a clue what was going on, there would be no harm in asking what this place was, and more importantly, what we were all doing here. “Excuse me, sir, do you know what that ticket in you hand is for?” I asked skeptically.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” he replied enthusiastically. I wondered for a second if I was going mad and everyone else here was too, but I didn’t know what ‘mad’ meant, so I left it there.
It occurred to me that I was holding a ticket too. Mine read: 1,234,567. I realized then that I was one of the last in line. Suddenly I understood that when the screen reads your number, you have to go somewhere.
The question was, where?
Was this the heaven that I always wondered about? I thought. If it were heaven, then shouldn’t I have felt some sort of relief?
Instead I felt nothing. There was no love, sadness, or any feeling at all. I couldn’t even feel the small ticket in my hand. There seemed to be no mass, space, or time there, but yet everything in the room stayed together in complete perfection. The startling beauty of that place became an eerie shadow around me. I couldn’t seem to feel any sort of connection with anything or anyone. Everyone in this room seemed foreign to me like they were aliens.
Days seemed to go by like hours, and months like days. Still, I sat there and waited.
I realized the line started from the right when more chairs became empty on my left as the number on the screen became smaller and smaller. I was wide awake¾not alert, but I was numb.
I wasn’t at the least surprised when the screen displayed: 1,234,567. I had noticed that everyone was going over to a white door outlined with black on my right that said in a large black sign above it: Judgment. Every person in line had gone through that door but never came out again. I wasn’t in the least concerned.
I turned to my left at the blond lady beside me and said, “Well, guess it’s my turn.” “Good luck,” she said enthusiastically. I wondered to myself why I would need luck for this. Judgment couldn’t be that bad. This will be fun, I thought.
I walked through the strange white door. The entire room was blindingly white. Straight ahead of me was a white chair with silver legs. In front of the chair was a white desk¾and sitting in the desk was an average-sized white man with pale skin, icy dark blue eyes, and jet black hair that was combed back and parted on the side. He was wearing a white suit that made him look like an agent or a lawyer. He was not paying any attention to me, and was instead staring at his watch continuously.
I walked over to the desk and sat down at the chair. The man continued to stare at his watch. Now I noticed a trace of panic on his face. Time was a preoccupation to him for some reason.
He looked up and his face instantly brightened up and became excited as a wide smile of gleaming white teeth flashed across his face. His eyes though, seemed to be in contrast with his face and glared angrily at me. I stared straight-faced back at this peculiar person. “Well, what do I have here!” he exclaimed, his voice obviously sounded over-the-top and fake. I played along, realizing that there was something dangerous about this man, and I didn’t want to upset him.
“In case your small little head hasn’t figured it out yet, I’m Death, and you’re dead!” he said laughing. I could tell he took great pleasure out of this. I stared at him coolly. I would have been surprised, I guess, but I just sat and stared at him. “I should have known,” I admitted in defeat, understanding now that I am at the mercy of this spirit I now took him to be.
“Well, that’s OK; no one out there suspects a thing. If they did, there would be pandemonium and it would be my fault, I’m afraid.” His smile faultered a little but rose again.
“How did I die?” I hesitated to ask, feeling foolish for not being able to remember. “You were hit head-on by a truck’s trailer and broke your neck. It’s all in my files there,” he pointed to a lonely file cabinet at my far right in the corner behind me. “It was very gruesome¾blood everywhere. You were only 26. I won’t go into details, but you died instantly. I must admit, I’m glad it was instant…So, since you’re here, is there any question that you have for me about oh¾anything in the entire universe you want to know about?” He was being sarcastic; I didn’t believe him.
“Anything?” “Yes, whatever it is you desire to know.” He seemed bored now. “Well, I would like to know where I am.” He looked down at his watch again. “You are of course, in the afterlife. But this is neither Heaven nor Hell, or any other spiritual afterlife. This is more like a path to that afterlife, called the Realm of Spirits. We are right smack in the middle of all afterlives. I am your guide and lawyer.”
“There are too many questions that I have to ask you.” “Well, make it snappy,” he urged me.
“Well, um, who are you?” “I am not the spirit of Death, in case you were wondering, but rather a guide of those dead. I lead spirits to their afterlives, but I don’t take the lives. The death you know of is no spirit, but a state of existence. I am also your lawyer and the lawyer of all spirits. In your trial to decide the afterlife you will be condemned or rewarded, depending on whether you get into Hell¾which is most likely, or rewarded eternal happiness in Heaven, I will represent you as your lawyer. In your trial I will act as a neutral participant, neither favoring nor incriminating you. I will simply present the facts of your life that will be analyzed.”
He then went on to tell me about his life before he died. “I was not always known as Death. In my former life¾which I don’t remember, but have only heard of, my name was Adrian Caldwell. I was born on June 5, 1442 in Yorkshire, England. I was an only child. My father was a farmer like most people, and my mother was a seamstress.
I had a relatively happy life, no matter how simple and boring that it was…Anyway, skipping ahead to the good part of how I died,” he started to get excited, “first of all, my death is not something I remember, but instead have read about in my file. Apparently my father, Edward, sent me hunting in the woods near our cottage when I was sixteen. I had my bow and arrow with me when I spotted a bear cub sitting in a large nearby meadow. The bear was quite adorable as it ate grass there.
I backed away slowly, of course, but the bear got up from its leisure and drowsily walked toward me. It quickly gained speed when I began to run for my life. The cub was still running after me when I shot five arrows at it. I stopped and saw that it was dead. I was relieved and stood there to catch my breath.
I turned around to make my way back when I saw the mother bear. She was furious that I had killed her brat of a cub and pounced on top of me, ripping me limb from limb. I read that it was a very gruesome and bloody sight.
See Jason, that’s what you and I have in common; we both died really dramatic and bloody deaths!”
“You seem excited by death?” “Of course I’m excited by death. I’m even more excited by particularly gruesome deaths. That is one of the reasons for why the man up top, you know, God, gave me this job,” he replied. “Job?”
“Well, yes. You see, when I died, I went to Purgatory and served some time there before God saw me fit for the temporary job of shall I say, holding the office of Death. I am simply a gatherer of souls. You could think of it as…probation.
I must spend 100 million Earth years holding this job “purely” before I can ascend to Heaven. By purely, I mean that I must behave myself. I can’t say the Lord’s name in vain, curse, or commit any sin, basically. This is my punishment,” he said, raising his arms up and shrugging.
“I am dumfounded. This is so fascinating¾I can’t explain it with words! Oh, I must ask a really good question…Ah! What is the meaning of life?” “Well, that is an easy one,” Death said as he caught a quick glimpse of his watch, “The meaning of life is to modestly enjoy it. Or you could be a sinner and really enjoy it like how I did. But then you would be punished!”
“Alright, what are Heaven, Purgatory, Hell and all of the other afterlives like?” “Simple, Heaven is a bright white place full of eternal happiness. In other words, they have an all-you-can-eat bar, free massages, and a hot tub. Purgatory is a smoky haze of pain similar to Hell, but not as bad. Hell is a hot fire-pit of agony you could not imagine. The other afterlives resemble Heaven, Purgatory, or Hell. Does that sum it up for you?” “Yeah, you mentioned God, so I’m guessing he exists.” “Wow, you catch on quick…,” Death said sarcastically.
“Whatever…so is there a Satan.” “Of course there is a Satan. My line of work is right up his alley, but I don’t work for him. I work for God, I guess, but really my job is just to let nature flow and pick up its victims. People still believe I’m one of Satan’s entourage.”
“What do God and Satan look like?” “God is a regular sized spirit in terms of angel size, which is gigantic to you and even me. He is a black man with brown eyes and long white hair, but sadly, no beard, if you were wondering. Satan is a gigantic, black¾not red, monster with three heads and well, I think he looks like a dragon, but way worse,” he squinted at this.
“Wow. I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Are you sure I’m not dreaming, if that is what I think I’m doing, because I don’t know what dreaming is…” “I assure you, you’re not dreaming. But, time is running out for questions because I have oh, 1,234,566 clients left to guide…so, I’m going to have to let you ask only one more question,” he said, his fake grin still beaming brightly. “Oh, man, uh, this is really important. This must be a great question…Ah! How will the world end, and when will it end?” “Oh, well, um, I forgot to mention that you can ask about anything…except the apocalypse. Classified information, you know, mate.”
“Ohhh, fine. Was Jesus really married to Mary Magdalene, and did they have any children and is there a family still alive today?” “Long question…I’m surprised you could actually think it up in your small little mind. You spirits are so absent-minded in this place, you can hardly think of a question to ask. That’s good for me because I don’t have to worry about having to answer so many long questions. The answer to that one is yes Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene, no they did not have any children because they never consummated the marriage, and no they don’t have any family alive today, what ever day it is…”
“What do you mean by “what ever day it is”? “Oh, time here is very different from time on Earth. It must have been weeks, maybe a month or two that has gone by on Earth since you came here.” My head, already to the point of bursting from this astounding insight into some of humanity’s greatest unsolved mysteries¾could not completely comprehend what a spirit that I had assumed completely mythological was saying. “What? You mean that much time has passed since I came to this path to afterlives…right?” “No, sadly, I mean since you came in this office.”
“What are you saying?” “I’m saying that because God literally only knows exactly how long it’s been on Earth in what has been exactly 30 minutes here, we had better go.” “Oh, right…” I said, finally being able to take all of this in. “It’s time,” Death said dramatically, and continued with, “I just love saying that. I’ll guide you to the way to Earth.”
We exited Death’s office through an unseen door with no door knob on my right of the wall Death was sitting. I didn’t see the door because it was white as well. Death opened it uttering an ancient word. I asked him what he said, but he only told me the language he said it in: Latin.
The door led to a hallway dimly lit by the Heavens above us. The color of the hallway was white as well, though I could only vaguely see it in the shadows. I admired the star’s lights that lit our way. They sparkled like a million tiny suns. I wished I was there instead of going back to Earth.
We continued our way down this hallway, when it occurred to me that I didn’t know why I was going back to Earth. “Death, um, Mr. Death, why am I going back to Earth?” “I thought you would never ask. You are going back to Earth because you still have something from your former life that you can‘t let go of, and you need to let go. I can’t even tell you what it is that is keeping you from being able to dwell in the afterlife; you have to find out for yourself,” he answered.
“But how am I supposed to find something, when I don’t even know what I’m supposed to find?”
“Oh, cheer up. It might take you¾literally, a million years to find it, or even one day, but you’ll figure it out. Trust me.”
“I hope you’re not serious?” I asked incredulously. “No, Jason, I am very much serious,” he said, staring at me with a hard gaze and grimacing in what looked like sympathy.
Fear suddenly overtook me and I felt that I should faint, if it weren’t for the fact that I was dead.
As we neared the end of this dark hallway I almost felt afraid of what laid at the end more than I have been of anything. I heard the pounding sound of a thousand angry drums as their haunting echo roared in my head in the same way my heart would have if I had one.
Before I could blink, Death disappeared and transformed into a white streak of light before he reappeared holding out the door. He smiled sympathetically and for a second I thought he might actually care about me. But then his smile dropped and he held a straight face as his eyes stared unsympathetically at me.
I stared into the pitch blackness of the gloomy doorway. “This is my stop,” he said. Not believing him, I searched his cold blue eyes carefully. “You aren’t actually going to let me go into THAT by myself?,” I complained, pointing my finger at the door, but retaining a straight face. “I most certainly will,” he said with a serious look on his face.
“I thought you were…my¾my guide!” I was already losing hope in everything he had told me about himself.
“I am your guide, Jason. But apparently you misunderstood me. I told you I would guide you to the way to Earth. I did not tell you I would guide the way,” he said coldly.
“YOU CHEAT, YOU LIER! I bet everything you told me was a lie! I must be dreaming to have come upon such a low-soul, I should say instead of low-life!”
“You can believe what ever you want, but everything I told you was the truth. If I had lied, I would be on a one-way ticket back to Purgatory,” he said.
“But how will I find the way to Earth?”
“Trust me, you will,” he assured me. “I have no other choice but to trust you. I hope you’re right.”
“Let’s shake hands. I don’t want to part on bad terms before your trial,” he said as he extended his hand to me. “Yeah, um, goodbye,” I said, bewildered. We shook hands and I stepped through the door expecting the worst.
Death disappeared as the door closed with a loud, but low thud that echoed around me. On his face was the only sincere smile he had made during our whole meeting. I felt that he did care after all.