Conversations in the Hereafter

“Death ends a life, not a relationship.”
~Mitch Albom

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.” ~Unknown


* * *

It was grey. The grey mist hung like a veil over more grey mist. There was an endless stretch of thicker grayness that could almost be called ground; slightly raised on it was an endlessly long road. Bare feet sunk in and left impressions that faded a few moments after they appeared. It was impossible to see more than a few feet away. Everything was grey.
There was one splotch of color other than grey. Brown hair that needed a trim lingered above the collar of a white shirt which was tucked into charcoal grey pants. Pale white shoes sunk into the grey surface, inches from a grey pool a few feet away from the road. The pool was only recognizable as a pool because of the perfectly round depression it filled and the smoothness of the surface. It was like an empty mirror.
The boy crouched by this mirror, watching it intensely. There was nothing to see in the pool, not even his own reflection, but he concentrated on it anyway. The grey mist behind him showed ever so slightly through his body. There was complete silence. There wasn’t even the sound of his breathing.
Not too far from where the boy crouched, the mists parted suddenly around a pale figure. Her short dirty blond hair swung unevenly around her face. The hospital gown she wore fluttered as she walked along the road towards the boy, and the cross on a chain around her neck moved slightly in time with her steps. Her bare feet made no noise on the mist, and the boy didn’t notice her. When she saw him, she stopped in shock. She whispered his name, and he spun around.
They stayed silent, staring, for a minute, or an eternity

* * *

A little dark-eyed boy sat staring at a pile of blocks. He couldn’t have been more than three years old, but he examined the structure he was building with the intensity of a master architect. To his eyes, fault lines that would send the building tumbling down were as clear as if they had been drawn, and he knew exactly where to place each block to build the desired skyscraper. A little girl about his age wandered through the open door of his room over to him.
“Whatcha doin’?” she asked.
“I’m building,” he replied as if that explained everything. They watched the blocks together for a moment, then she reached for a rectangular block. As she started to put it on top of the tower, he grabbed it from her hand. “No!” he scolded. “That’ll make it fall down!”
The little girl looked sadly at him. “Sorry,” she whispered, her lower lip quivering. He turned back to his block tower without another word, and after a moment, she copied him.
Two women came into the room. One was wearing an elegant black suit with a diamond necklace. The other wore an apron over a plain blue dress. “How did you get in here?” the latter asked the girl. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she added, addressing the other woman. “I had no idea that she’d come in here and bother your son. I’ll take her out now.”
“I suppose it’s alright,” the lady of the house assured her graciously. “The boy needs company now and again. Just make sure she’s out of here by four. That’s when his tutor comes.”
Oblivious to the conversation, the little girl picked up a smaller block and pointed to the top of the tower. “There?” she asked hopefully.
The boy nodded approvingly. “There.”

* * *

It was the boy who broke the reverie. “Is that really you? You’re not a hallucination?” he asked.
She nodded and bit her lip. “It’s really you?”
He nodded, then turned back to the pool as she continued. “What are you doing here? How long have you been…here? Why didn’t I know?”
He didn’t look at her while he spoke. “It happened while I was on a job, recently. What happened to you?”
“There was a car accident. I was in the hospital for a week, I guess. I kept coming here, but the doctors kept pulling me back. They couldn’t do it anymore, in the end. I think my heart just…gave out.”
There was silence then, twisting and twirling in between them like the grey fog. She took the three steps over to him, kneeling beside the pool. He kept staring into it, and she copied him. After another indeterminable silence, she asked curiously, “What’s that?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but I would guess a wormhole or other such anomaly that links dimensions. It shows me whatever I want to see, so I’ve been keeping an eye on how the job’s been going without me.”
“Can I use it?” she asked shyly. “There are some people I want to see.”
“Of course,” he said, looking at her while he said it. His expression, calm and placid before, stirred just enough to hint at an odd mixture of relief and sadness.

* * *

Thunder and lightening crashed outside while rain lashed the window of the tiny room. The little girl curled up on a child’s futon that took up a quarter of the room. Her father’s snoring leaked through the wall next to her head. It had comforted her when the thunder woke her up, soothing her back to sleep.
The door next to the foot of her bed creaked open. The little boy slipped through. He was pale, hair standing in points on top of his head. He knelt beside the little girl and hesitated, not wanting to disturb her, then jumped at the crack of lightening that lit up the room. He shook her as hard as he could.
“What?” she gasped, rolling over.
“I’m a bit frightened,” he whispered.
They looked at each other for a moment. She rubbed her eyes and asked sleepily, “Why don’t you go tell your mom and dad?”
“They told me to go back to sleep and that I’m five, I should be able to ignore the noise, but I can’t. It’s loud upstairs, and probably dangerous too. A tree branch could fall through the ceiling, or-” He cut himself off, realizing he was babbling.
The little girl thought about the problem for a minute, then said, “I dunno what you should do. I always just go to my mommy and daddy.”
He thought for a second and then whispered, “Could I stay down here with you?”
“Sure,” she said.
She scooched over and he curled up next to her. She rolled onto her side and promptly fell back to sleep, not thinking about how cramped it was on the futon or that he had a much larger bed of his own upstairs. The little boy lay awake for a while, listening to the sound of the storm and the girl’s breathing. It was soothing to him, how regular and quiet her breath was. Listening, he drifted off. The two children slept together, oblivious to the crash and boom of the raging storm outside.

* * *

She reached out towards the pool, her fingertips just over the surface.
“What now?” she asked, glancing at him.
“Just think of the person you want to see.”
She nodded and turned back to the pool. Its greyness parted like a curtain, revealing a crystal-clear image of a young man lying in a hospital bed. He stared listlessly at the ceiling with eyes red from crying, face covered in angry welts and scattered burns. An IV slowly fed fluids into his arm. The cast of his left leg was suspended into the air, exposing a foot covered in fading bruises and healing cuts.
The girl let out a breath of relief, staring intently at the pool. “He’s alive. Thank God.”
The boy looked at her, raising an eyebrow in question. She turned to him and explained, “Marcus was driving the car. He was taking me home from school, and a truck skidded. It hit my side of the car, and I guess he got thrown clear somehow.”
The boy nodded, and they both turned back to the pool. She pressed her fingers to her nose, and began whispering a prayer as the pool drew grey over the image like a curtain.

* * *

It was his eighth birthday. He was already in fifth grade, having been accelerated twice, and it was deemed likely that he’d skip to seventh at the end of the year. In celebration, more of the news that he’d been accepted to a prominent local middle school for the gifted than of his birthday, his parents had taken him to a fancy restaurant, where they’d shown him off to their friends by having him speak fluent French and Italian to the waiters and chef. Then they’d dropped him off at the house so they could rush off to a cocktail party.
“Be good,” his mother called as they drove away, “and don’t forget to study!”
He was in his room, reading his newest book, Great Expectations, when the girl rushed in giggling. She was a month older than him, but still only in third grade.
“Come downstairs,” she laughed, tugging on his arm.
“Why?” he asked.
“You’ll see, silly! Come on!”
“But I should finish my chapter. And what about algebra?”
“It can wait!” she exclaimed, exasperated, as she pulled his sweater harder. Recognizing defeat, he stood up, carefully marked his place with scrap of paper, and placed the novel on the bookshelf. Then he followed the girl downstairs into the backyard.
Someone had placed a tablecloth decorated with balloons on the table on the patio. A birthday cake glowing with candles sat on top, and the table was surrounded by three smiling people: the girl’s parents, Lillian the maid and Rafael the gardener, and her grandfather, Ron the butler. The moment he walked warily through the door, they burst into an off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday.” As the others ended it, the old man called out, “Blow out the candles!”
The boy smiled shyly at the old man, then crossed over and did so without making a wish. He seemed shocked that he hadn’t known about this. The girl’s mother, Lillian, gently pressed a plate of cake into his hands, breaking through his surprise.
“Thank you, Lillian,” he murmured automatically.
She smiled gently at him. “It’s your birthday, dear. It was the least we could do.”
He smiled back, then found a seat at the edge of the patio. The girl came quietly up and sat next to him, her own piece of cake balanced on top of a box in her hands. “Don’t you like the cake?” she asked, clearly worried.
“It’s perfect,” he assured her, taking a bite to prove it. She picked up her cake and scraped the frosting off the top, then ate the forkful of white cream.
“Here,” said the girl after she swallowed, shoving the shoebox over to him. “Sorry I didn’t wrap it, but I couldn’t find any wrapping paper. And I know it’s not really the sort of thing you like, but I didn’t have the money for anything from a store.”
He picked up the box and examined it closely. Then he gently opened the lid and pulled out a brown felt Sherlock Holmes cap. The brim was lopsided, the cloth was the same brown as the blanket that he had gotten rid of a few weeks ago, and the seams had clearly been pulled out a few times. Despite that, he smiled with real happiness.
“Is it to remind me of my goal? To become a famous detective?”
The girl looked overjoyed that he liked it. “Yes! You can wear it and pretend to solve mysteries!” she exclaimed through a mouthful of cake.
“Did you make it all by yourself?”
“No, Mom helped me. Do you like it?”
“Yes,” he whispered, looking almost embarrassed to admit it. “Yes, I really do.”
He never wore the hat to play imaginary games, like the girl suggested. Instead, it occupied a place of honor on his shelf, right next to his books on law and criminology.
It was the only object he ever regretted getting rid of when his father told him to.

* * *

The girl examined the picture one more time, then placed her fingers over the pool.
“I hope Marcus gets better soon,” she said quietly, tears hovering at the edges of her voice. “And I hope he doesn’t blame himself for what happened to me. It wasn’t his fault.”
The boy looked doubtful, but she didn’t notice. The girl wiped her eyes, then concentrated. Nothing happened. There was a moment of total silence, and the girl said, “Grandpa Ron? Ronald Karen?” The boy stiffened at the words.
Nothing happened, and she turned to the boy. “What’s going on? Why’s it not working?”
The boy wouldn’t look at her as he spoke. “If someone’s already…deceased, they won’t show up when you ask for them. I was trying when you got here. There’s no response.”
She didn’t hear past his first four words. She stared, then gasped out, “Grandpa too? How?”
“There was a bomb.” He spoke with forced clinical detachment. “The rest of the investigations team was out. It was just Ron and I. The whole building exploded. We were in the same room. I think it was right under us. It was clearly an amateur device, considering-”
She cut off his attempt distract both of them. “But…if you died at the same time…didn’t you get here together?”
“Yes.”
“Then where is he?”
There was a pause, then: “He decided that he would…move on. Keep following the road until it ends. He said that it was what should be done. He thought it the natural thing to do.”
The girl looked like she wanted to ask why he hadn’t gone on as well, but instead, she just said, “So, if we move on, then…we’ll see him? And my parents?”
The boy looked away and said, almost guiltily, “I don’t know.”

* * *

The boy sat on the bed, his suitcase open before him. “Could we go over the checklist again?” he politely asked Ron, who was seated on the desk chair.
Ron shook his head. “We don’t have time. We have to leave in a few minutes, and I have to take all your things downstairs.”
The boy frowned, annoyed. “You’re right, I suppo-”
The door flew open, and the girl dove in. “I came to say good-bye,” she panted, throwing her arms around her startled grandfather. He recovered quickly, and squeezed her tightly. “I’ll miss you,” he said.
“I’ll miss you too, Grandpa,” she replied sadly.
He pulled away and, smiling, handed her a wrapped rectangle from the desk behind him. “Don’t be sad, now. It’s not like we’re leaving forever. We’ll just be gone until winter break. Open that when I’m gone, it’s sure to cheer you up.”
She took it, smiling back. “I got you something too. It’s waiting in the car, on the passenger seat.”
The old man hugged his granddaughter again. “You shouldn’t have. Now, I’m going to take these things down. Goodbye darling.”
“Bye, Grandpa.”
Ron lifted the suitcase with surprising ease and vanished out the door. The girl turned to the boy, who had begun sorting through the books in his carryon during the family parting.
“I have something for you, too,” she said. He turned around, startled. She handed him a thin book. The boldly colored cover screamed, “1,001 Ways to Survive College”.
“Thank you,” he said politely as he took it. He knew he’d probably never open it, but it was the thought that counts. Ron would love it, anyway.
The girl looked shyly at the ground as she sat next to him. “I just thought that because you’re going to college so young, you might want it. I mean, we’re only eleven! Who’da thought that you’d be headed off to Oxford?”
The boy nodded. “I know. By the way, I got you something.”
“Really?” He nodded. “Can I see it now?”
“Yes. Here.” He pulled a small box from his briefcase. She opened the lid, revealing a pair of silver hear-shaped earrings and a necklace with the same heart strung onto a black cord. She stared at them as the boy said calmly, “I thought that you’d like something simple. The receipt’s in the box too, so you can return them. It’s easy enough to find a Tiffany’s store, so that should be no problem.”
She looked at him, her eyes wide. “You got me jewelry from Tiffany’s?!”
The boy raised one eyebrow. “Yes. Is there a problem with that?”
“No, it’s just…wow! You really knew what I wanted!” She gave him an enormous hug, which he half-heartedly returned. “’Course,” she continued after she released him, “you do know everything.”
He gave a rare laugh. “Of course I do.”


* * *

The girl thought about this for a minute, then sighed. “I’ll follow them soon. I just want to check on a few more people…”
She turned to the pool, which was already parting to reveal the image of a group of eight teens, all around the age of the girl. They wore casual clothes, like they had just come from school. They were all gathered around a fresh grave, carrying flowers. Some were crying.
The boy examined the picture without recognition. “Where is this? Who are they?”
The girl had put her hands over her mouth the moment the image appeared. Now she whispered through them, “That’s where my parents are buried. I think…that’s my grave. And Josh, and Sherri, and all the others…”
In the pool, a boy gently pushed his way to the front of the group. He was thickset and tall with broad shoulders. His blond hair was carefully combed, he wore a black motorcycle jacket unzipped over a black turtleneck and black jeans, and he held a bouquet of roses as he stood over the fresh grave. Then he began to speak.
“Listen,” he said quietly to the square tombstone, as if there was no one behind him. “I hope you can hear this, wherever you are. I don’t really know how to talk to the dead, so I’ll just talk to you the way I always did, ‘k?” He paused, as if waiting for an answer, then continued, “I brought you roses, just like I did for our first date. It was kinda funny, how you were so surprised that I knew how much you loved flowers. You always made me laugh. I miss that. I miss…” His voice cracked, “everything about you. We all do. We all agree you were too young to go.” Tears were streaming down his face, and he rushed to finish through his sobs. “I just wanted to say that I’m sure you’re in a better place now. And…I love you.”
“Oh, Josh,” the girl whispered. Then, even softer, “I love you too.”
Josh closed his eyes, a single sob wracking his body as he set the roses on the grave. Then he stood and walked back to the others, clearly trying to hold back his tears. Everyone came up to say something, even if it was just a few words, and leave flowers. One boy read a poem, and one girl played a guitar while another sang. Then, some sobbing, some comforting the others, they left the graveyard. The mirror erased the image of their backs with mist.
The boy looked at the girl. She was shaking with silent tears as she stared at the mirror. He looked sadly at her, then reached out his hand and placed it hesitantly on her shoulder.
“Thanks,” she said through a sniffle.
“It’s not a problem,” he said simply.

* * *

The girl sighed as she walked away from the public high school. It had been another hard day. Will, her cheating ex, had been making out with Ashley, the witch who’d stolen him, all through lunch, and the announcement, and biology. Everyone had heard about her breakup fight, and she couldn’t stand the sympathy or, worse, the pity anymore. Lost in misery, she began the walk to the bus stop. She didn’t even notice him until they were five feet apart. Then she looked up and gasped, “What are you doing here?”
The boy frowned. “We haven’t seen each other for over a year, and you greet me with, ‘What are you doing here?’ I feel very unwanted.”
She hurried to explain herself. “No, no, I was just surprised! Oh my God, you’re back!” He turned, and they began walking next to each other down the cracked sidewalk.
“Not for long, I’m afraid,” he said, not sounding particularly upset. “I’ll be on the road again soon, off on another case.”
She frowned at him. “You’re always working. Do all detectives work this hard?”
He shook his head. “No, but I do. I’ve told you before, I have to work hard so I can be the best.” Before she could argue, he changed the subject. “So, how’s your freshman year of high school? As dull as I remember it?”
His words cast a shadow across her face, then she forced a smile and said, “Oh, it’s not bad. I have interesting classes, and some good friends.”
He had known her for too long not to notice the fakeness of her cheer and was about to ask her about it when a rusty brown truck pulled up next to them, the window rolled down. The driver, an acned teen with braces, called, “Hey, Blondie. Movin’ on so quick? Woulda thought you’d take your time in getting over your dear, sweet Will.”
He sped away, laughing, leaving the boy confused and the girl bright red.
“Who was that?” the boy asked, stunned.
“A jerk loser with jerk loser friends,” the girl muttered furiously.
The boy thought about asking further, but decided that it was prudent to go back to safer waters. “So, school’s going well?” he asked.
And suddenly, the tears that she had been holding in all day burst free. Embarrassed, she tried to stop, but she couldn’t. “No!” she bawled miserably. “My boyfriend cheated on me with this total witch, then broke up with me, and now everyone’s being way too nice and I just wanna be left alone and…” She broke off into further sobs.
The boy looked around awkwardly, then grabbed her arm and towed her into the park they were standing in front of. He sat her down on a deserted bench, handed her a pack of tissues, and took a few steps away from her, deliberately watching a squirrel. After a minute, the waterworks subsided and she said mournfully through her sniffles, “I’m sorry. I ruined your visit home, didn’t I?”
The boy came back and sat next to her. “No, you didn’t. It’s understandable; holding in emotions always results in a catastrophic outburst. You shouldn’t worry.”
The girl hiccupped, then said, “I just…I dunno. I just feel like I’m never gonna find another guy as perfect for me as William. It’s like I wasted my one chance to have a boyfriend.”
The boy thought about this for a moment, then said matter-of-factly, “Well, I don’t have much experience in relationships, so I can’t help you there. However, I do know that there are thirty-three million more men than women in the world. That would mean that you have a fairly good chance of finding another single male who is willing to express interest in you within the next three years. Without exact numbers on the population of single males versus females in our age group, I would estimate the probability at…seventy-five percent?”
The girl looked at him blankly for a moment, then a small, weak smile spread across her face. “Three million, you say?”
He nodded. “I believe so. Now, I think it’s time for us to continue on? I would like to see my parents before I leave.”
They got up, and headed back towards the bus stop. On the way, she blew her nose into the last tissue, and he handed her another pack without a word.

* * *

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until the girl had regained her calm. As the boy pulled his hand away, she said quietly, “I think we should go now.”
“What?” the boy asked. He’d been lost in his own thoughts.
“It’s time to move on. We can’t sit here forever, stuck in what we left behind. Josh said I should keep going to a better place.”
The boy sighed sadly. “I know,” he said. The girl stood, but he didn’t follow.
“What’s wrong? Let’s go,” she said, cocking her head curiously to one side.
He sighed. “It’s just hard to leave.”
She waited for him to clarify. He looked up at her. “I’m not ready to leave it all behind just yet. You see, I’ve spent my whole life collecting knowledge of the world of the living. My purpose in life was to learn and unravel the mysteries of the universe, and prove that I was the best at doing that. How can I do that now that I’m dead? I have nothing. I’m hollow and empty, and I’m not ready to completely separate myself from the place where I had a purpose. I suppose I’m just delaying the necessary, but still, I don’t really want to leave my life behind.”
They looked at each other for a long moment. He appeared emotionless, but confusion and indecision peered out from his dark eyes. She looked back with surprise.
“I don’t have an answer for you. You’ve always had the answers before, so I guess I’m kinda surprised that you don’t know what to do. I guess…I don’t know.”
He turned away. After a moment of tense silence, she burst out. “You can’t just stay here forever!”
He shrugged. “What other choice do I have? I see no solution to my dilemma.”
She knelt next to him, staring intently at the side of his face. “Maybe there isn’t one, but you can’t just sit here and wait for it to come. The problem isn’t going to vanish; you’re going to have to get up and deal with it no matter what. Life, or what comes after, isn’t about hoping things get better. It’s about making things work and being happy even with problems. So you need to get up and just…try!”
He turned to her in surprise; he’d never seen her this intense before. She had stood back up, and was holding out her hand to him. More gently, she added, “I’ll help you move forward. You just have to start by taking a few steps.”
She looked at him, hoping that the words got through to him. He seemed to think about it, then said hesitantly, “Well…I suppose I am a bit curious to see what’s next…and you’re right, I can’t just stay here forever waiting for a solution to drop from the sky…and I would like to see Ron again…”
The girl smiled, relieved. “Great!” she said, grabbing his wrist and tugging him. “Now, let’s go!”
He stood, smiling hesitantly. “Thank you,” he said gratefully as they began walking along the road.
“No problem,” she replied.
And then they vanished into the mist, leaving no hint that they had ever been there.

* * *

The little boy looked cautiously at the rain and lightening outside. The little girl sidled up to him, looking out the window too.
“It’s pretty, huh?” she said happily.
“I suppose…” he replied dubiously.
“Let’s go out! We can jump in the puddles and catch rain on our tongues!” she exclaimed, tugging his hand.
“But it’s wet,” he objected. “I see no reason to go and soak myself. And what if we get hit by lightening? My life is too valuable to risk for a few puddles.”
She shrugged. “Someone once said, ‘Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain,’” she recited, clearly proud of being able to remember the words.
The boy opened his mouth to argue, but didn’t seem to find the heart. Instead, he sighed, took the raincoat she offered him, and went to the door to put on his boots.
Hand in hand, the two children went out into the storm.