Back for You (Watty Awards 2012)

Chapter 5

“When I was still in high school, I met Andora. Sweetest girl in town, probably the prettiest, too. She was something, something real special—a real gem. Her family had money, great in school, never got in trouble, spoke all kinds of languages I’ve never heard of,” Arthur rocked back and forth in the swing next to mine. We sat in an almost empty park on the other side of town.

         I needed to get away from the school, away from the cemetery, away from everything. So, Arthur dusted us here. It was nice—there was barely anyone around, and it cheered me up a little when a little girl pointed at us and asked her mother why the swings were moving. ‘It’s just the wind, honey’ was the half-assed motherly answer. It felt good to have been noticed, even just a little.

         “Sounds like someone I know,” I grumbled, Katrina crossing my mind.

         He smiled and stared off across the park. “Nobody wanted us to be together—said we were from two different worlds. I guess it was true; we went against fate being together, but the differences kept us strong. She was everything I could never be, and I was everything she wasn’t. I really loved that girl.”

         “So if she was so perfect, how did she land you six feet under?” I asked. I couldn’t help but take a closer look at myself as Arthur described Andora. She sounded like everything I wasn’t. Sweet, brilliant, and she put up with Arthur. She sounded like Jason. I felt a pang of something for Arthur: I commiserated.

         I watched his dimpled smile falter. “One day, there was an accident. Dora was hurt bad, and she passed away. Her family and friends, they all blamed me. They said I was supposed to protect her, and that it was my fault she died, even though they made an arrest. They were right—I worked so hard to get them to believe that I would protect her, and I blew it all away in one night. I never should have let her get hurt,” he trailed off and I watched him, realizing that I was engrossed.

         “What happened to you, Arthur?” My voice came out hushed, and Arthur sighed, bringing his swing to a stop next to me.

         “Tossing the guy in jail didn’t give them the closure they wanted. One day, Dora’s brother and some of his friends came and found me and my buddies, hollering and screaming about how I tore their family apart, how it was my fault,” he continued. “My friends jumped in to defend me, but things got physical pretty soon. It escalated, guys started pulling knives. A few of my friends got nicked, nothing serious, but those guys weren’t after my friends—they wanted me. Pretty soon, they got me, right here.” He pat the side of his back. “Kidney strike, lucky shot. It took a while to bleed out. They tried to get an ambulance out to me but by the time help showed up, it was too late.”

         There was a long pause and I shook myself back into reality. I didn’t know what to say. This was a side of Arthur I hadn’t seen before. It hit close to home, really close, and for the first time since we’d met I felt like I understood him a little more.

         “I’m so sorry.”

         “Hey, that’s all right,” he said, his lips turning up in a half smile, “Forty years gives you plenty of time to come to terms with this sort of thing.”

         I paused. I was never much good at bonding in life, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to give it a shot now. “I kind of know how you feel. You know… losing someone like that. Seeing them hurt, knowing you can’t fix it.”

         He turned to face me and smiled, his eyes a little brighter. “Yeah. It’s nice having someone around who knows what you’re feeling.”

         Warmth rose in my cheeks. I hated to admit it, but it was nice to have someone who understood this mess that I was in. This wasn’t something I could take to Lena or Jason anymore, but Arthur got it. But there was still something I needed to know, something he’d danced around when I asked before.

         “Arthur, why are we here? And how long are we stuck here? In Limbo, I mean. Is this my punishment for being a bitch when I was alive?”

         He was quiet for a moment, and then slowly began, “Not exactly. They say it’s different for everyone. Over forty years I’ve seen a lot of people come and go through here—some stick around for a few days, some for a few months, years or longer. The one thing I noticed that’s the same across the board is that it’s about fixing a mistake; making something right that you left behind.”

         “How do you know what the mistake is? I didn’t get a fucking Death Manual when I popped up in the afterlife.”

         Arthur grinned. “That’s the idea behind coming back in the first place. You get to look in on the life you had, the people and things you left behind, and see what it’s like without you. They say that once you see that, it becomes pretty clear pretty fast what needs fixing.”

         I paused, trying to bite my tongue. I was getting straight answers and a lot of information that I’d been after for weeks. If I wanted to keep that up, maybe it was time to turn off the Bitch Switch. Well. At least turn the knob down a little.

         “You’ve been stuck for forty years, though. Is it supposed to take that long?”

         “I wouldn’t say I’m stuck, necessarily,” he started, his smile broadening into a deeply dimpled grin, “Not too long after I came back, I figured out what my mistake was—what I needed to fix that I messed up on in life. I needed to make amends to Dora’s folks, show ‘em that I was sorry and would do anything to take it all back. But,” he sighed and kicked off the ground again, slowly swinging back and forth, “Once I set out to check in on her family, I found their house burned down to ashes. Not a single thing survived that fire, and I was out of luck.”

         My eyes went wide. “You lost your chance at getting out of here?”

         “I did. Tore me up at first, Remi, but I’ll be honest with you—it was a blessing in disguise,” he began. I felt my eyebrow fly up and he must have noticed. “I’ve been able to watch the world change, see incredible things I wouldn’t have if I crossed over back then. And, I was able to meet you. None of those are things I’d pass up if I got another chance.”

         And up flared my face again. I cleared my throat and recovered. “So… you’re here forever?”

         “I sure am, and haven’t regretted a minute yet!” He smiled and jumped off the swing, landing a few feet ahead of us and extending his arm. “Come on, time for your next lesson!”

         I slowed my swing to a stop and stood up, walking out to him and linking my arm onto his extended one. It felt like I’d been hit by a truck…again.

         Immortal. He was immortal and limitless. I shuddered—that was a huge revelation. If I never crossed over, that would be me. Finding out that immortality actually existed was an overwhelming conclusion, but the route to get there was so tragic.

         I guess all those legends and myths school threw at us growing up were right: immortality does come at a price.