Mourning came a little early todayI couldn't help but notice the leaves. Hundreds of them, frozen stiff and metallic, blowing around me as I ran down the corridor away from the faded evening moon. They cast everything in a cold deserted light. I hurried along, frozen to the bone, joints aching, heart bulging against the black stitches that hold it together. The door seemed easier this time. Recently oiled. A stark contrast to the neglected tunnels and steps I had navigated in the half light to get here without breaking my neck.
Woke me up when I wasn't ready
Creeping, in through the window I guess
It came in quiet while I was sleeping
I'm dreaming my way through the rain today
The crunch of my footsteps in all these leaves is enough to wake Jacob.
I spin the handle and open the door. He is sitting in the chair. Not awake. I cock my head in surprise. The deep hollows under his eyes are more pronounced now, sunken in. He is pale. His fingers are so nimble and fragile looking. His clothing is rumpled, wings folded against the back of the chair as if he has been there forever.
Waiting for me, though he has told me all my life without him not to come.
I step through and hear muffled flapping coming from somewhere. My ears don't do echo location any more and I know Cole is somewhere in the rafters, beyond where the light will reach. I need to ignore him right now. This is important.
I am walking softly in my platform buckle shoes in order not to startle Jacob. I'm not actually sure if I can startle someone who can see everything the way he can but I'm kind nevertheless. Abruptly he looks up and I am the one who is startled again. There's no light in the blue, his eyes are drawn and tired. Shielded. Voided, maybe. I don't even know. I'm having trouble knowing what to say first.
I don't have to worry about that for very long.
You're here.
Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?
I thought maybe you were done and you forgot to let me go.
No. I didn't and I'm not besides. What happened?
I just..wait. I wait for you. I get to see heaven when you're here. When you're not here this remains the one place where it isn't really anything. Not good or bad, just time, as slow as it can be made to be. Exactly like I imagined it. Do you remember?
***
We are lying in bed looking at the stars through the open window. Jacob takes my fingers and points at different constellations, his head pressed hard against mine so that he knows I can see exactly where my fingers are aiming.
Aquarius.
I say nothing and then I burst out laughing.
What's so funny?
I'm waiting for you to break into songs from Hair.
Maybe later. I was being serious and romantic and you're ruining everything.
I'm so happy.
Really? Well, mark this night for our history book. He grins at me in the dark. I see nothing. I hear his big teeth click and that's how I know he's smiling.
Yes. This is heaven.
This isn't heaven, princess. (Unclick, grin is over. Serious Jake returns.) Heaven is where everything is always good. It isn't a surprise. You never look at your watch. The stars are visible in daylight. You are never surprised that you're happy, you just are. All the time. Surrounded by those you love.
What if I don't go to heaven?
What do you mean?
What is hell like?
You think you're going to hell?
Probably. I don't know. Most likely purgatory or something. In between. Visits to both or just stuck in the middle. What is purgatory like?
It's like..I think it's a place where people wait. They wait for those who love them to escape from the clutches of grief in order to release them. They wait around for a time and then when the worst has passed they know they will be let go. It's just time though. Endless time. Nothing. Just waiting.
Sounds awful.
It sounds necessary to me.
I don't think that would happen to you. I think you would go straight to heaven because you earned it.
I guess that would be up to you, now, wouldn't it?
No?
You'll outlive me, pigalet.
I am struck by how horrifying that concept is to me.
I don't want to.
You have to. You're younger so it's logical.
Tears roll out of my eyes and down my temples into my hair. I am still on my back looking upside down at the sky through the window over the bed.
When the time comes, don't make it too long, okay, princess?
I can no longer speak and I put my head down, wrenching my hand from his grasp. I don't want to look at stars anymore. I don't want to talk about death anymore. I don't want to even think about this. I feel as if I am about to throw up.
I turn away from him in the bed, toward the wall. He follows, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me in close against him. I am shivering and he is so warm. So alive right now. His beard tickles the back of my neck as he begins to talk again.
Hey, I'm going to be around forever and when I'm not, I promise you can keep me in purgatory for as long as you need or forever until you get there too and we can go to heaven together.
You promise?
Yes.
But don't die okay?
Why not?
I don't want to be alone.
You never will be, princess.
***
So what do you want me to do, Jacob.
It's a statement, not a question. I am overcome with exhaustion. I don't want to have this conversation today. Put it off. Make it go away. I can't do it or whatever tenuous hold on the life I am trying to live without Jacob will fall away from me and then where will I be? If I don't keep going I'll never get to a point where I can let him go forever and it isn't my intention to keep him here forever. But it isn't that time yet. The day is pushing down on my head and it aches so badly. I just want Benjamin to rest his lips against the flushed bone of my forehead because that makes the pain go away so briefly and then I can breathe for another little while.
I can't give you a time frame, princess. I want to either see you through this proactively or I want you to seriously consider going on without me. They can get you through this. They're doing a good job.
Oh, my lord. My pragmatic minister, always, beyond the end. Gently guiding with lots of options, all of them win-win. (In your own sweet time, pigalet, but let's get on with this now. Before the wind comes and takes away all of my lovely designs in the sand for you.)
His voice is running through my head and he is still right in front of me. I find defiance and squeeze it hard.
Not ready Jake. Please don't do this.
Soon, pigalet.
NOT YET! I scream it at him and the disappointment on his face ruins my life or whatever semblance of it I thought I had. The pressure is never supposed to come from him, he is supposed to be the impartial subject. Nowhere did it ever say that the ghost would have an opinion on this. Nowhere did it say that that was allowed and I'm really done with all of these surprises, God. Fuck off already. Either leave me alone or get in here and help me out.
I fixed the door, for the next time. Maybe you can make it sooner, princess. Waiting is becoming hard for me. He wipes his palms down his face and moves to stand. His wings don't fill the room anymore. They are defeated. Tired. Frustrated. None of the things you're supposed to feel in heaven or on earth.
It's so dark now I can't find my way home so instead of stepping through I sit down to wait. Across from him but on the floor. He walks along the walls in a perfect square until he returns to the chair and looks at it as if it is responsible for his helplessness right now. Or maybe for mine. He picks it up with both hands and throws it at the wall where it splinters like matchsticks. I cover my head when it happens.
When I look up next he is sitting beside me on the floor. Waiting with me.
Waiting for me.