Aftermath

Part XXV: Christine

Upon opening my eyes, I realized where I was.  I was in a funeral home, the place smelling of roses.  I looked around; there was no one in sight, so I sat up and climbed out of the ornate box I had been placed in.  I looked down at myself; I was dressed in my favorite outfit: my black cashmere off-the-shoulder sweater, skinny jeans, and my silver ballet flats.  When I looked at my hands, I saw that I had been given a French manicure.  Adam certainly knew what I liked.

Music was playing somewhere nearby, and I heard a familiar voice and a song that gave me chills.  Adam, I thought.  He’s here.  I broke out into a sprint down the short hallway and burst through the doors, but it seemed that I simply floated right through them.

Christie, you’re dead, remember?  Ah, Mr. Jiminy Cricket.  Even now I could hear him.  I chuckled to myself as I made my way down the aisle of the small chapel.  Looking around, I saw that everyone was here—Mom and Dad and Cassie; all my friends from college and some from high school; Adam’s mom and brother; Tommy and the rest of Adam’s band.  Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes and I lightly touched the side of my face.  I didn’t know that I could still cry.  I brushed the tears away and kept walking, closer to where Adam and Monte were.  Tommy was sitting in the front row of the chapel and I sat down next to him.  I lightly touched his hand, but then remembered that he couldn’t feel me; he didn’t even know I was here.  And neither did Adam.

As Adam continued to sing and his voice filled the room, I closed my eyes and my mind drifted back to the first time he sang that song for me.  I had been hurting so badly, and for a fleeting moment, hearing that song and the message it conveyed made me forget that I just wanted to give up on everything and leave this world behind.  But now I had, and I deeply regretted my horrible choice.  Never again would I be able to see his face or hear his voice; I would miss out on all the fun things we used to do together, all the wonderful memories we could’ve made.

I looked up and when my attention refocused on him, I saw that he was crying.  Now I realized how much pain I had caused him, and I hated myself for that.  Then I heard the words “Gonna tell ya you’ll be alright in the aftermath.  Anytime anybody pulls you down, anytime anybody says you’re not allowed, just remember you are not alone in the aftermath.  You are not alone…you are not alone…”

When he stopped singing, he hung his head, trying to hide the tears he had shed, and all I wanted to do was get up and run to him and throw my arms around him.  I did just that and whispered, “I love you, Adam.  I’ll miss you.”  He stiffened suddenly, his eyes widening just a little.  I instantly recoiled from him and stumbled backwards, into the shadows.

Shit!  That was a HUGE mistake!  Did he actually feel me?! I wondered incredulously.

I watched cautiously as he smiled at everyone and returned to his seat.  Tommy put his arm around him and held him close.  Meanwhile, the minister walked back up front and made a few closing remarks before ending the service.  That’s when I decided that it was time for me to go back out to the front room, to return to my body before I caused any more trouble.  I dashed back outside just as everyone else stood up to leave the chapel.

Whew, that was close!  Too close! I gasped while climbing back into the casket and resting my head on the soft satin pillow.

Soon, someone had closed the top half of the casket, but I could still hear voices outside.  Then, all of a sudden, I was being lifted up and carried somewhere.  This is it.  This is the end.  Tears pooled in my eyes again.  I’ve lived a good life, though.  Except for that one stupid— NO!  I’m not going to think like that.  Not anymore.  My life has been full of so many good things: singing at the coffee shop (although that’s not exactly what I’d hoped for in the first place), having fun with the rest of my bartending buddies, and Adam.  He changed my life for the better.  I’ll miss him every day, and I know he’ll miss me, but like he said: I’m not alone.  And neither is he.