Ashes

Rebecca Lloyd

There’s no moon tonight, just the bonfire. But the flames’ reflection dances on the churning water. The crash of waves mixes with the crackling sparks and I shriek as the boy scoops me up from behind. He holds me tight and runs straight for the water. I take a deep breath just before he drops me. It’s only a few feet deep, but I let myself submerge and wrap around his legs. He stumbles and comes under with me. I kiss him desperately, clinging to every second until we both surface, gasping for air. The precious first breath after being underwater for so long, that’s living. He kisses me again and I wrap myself around him. I reach for his arm and he throws me back into the water. Laughter escapes my lips as bubbles floating to the surface. I whip my hair up and it splashes him, hitting my back with a clap. He reaches for my hand and pulls me up. We wade back to the fire hand in hand, to where his friends are waiting. The boy in the white shorts hands us both a drink and the girl hanging off his arm bites her lip and kisses his shoulder. I take a deep breath, letting the smoke mix with the salty air and fill my lungs, then let go of his warm hand to grip the bottle and twist it open. Damn it. The seashore fades and I drop the bottle to reach for his hand, hating the fact that the hand I actually grab won’t be his. I squint as the dancing firelight is exchanged for fluorescents that flood the hospital room. It’s always a hospital. I’ve lost my favorite brown bikini and am now wearing a shapeless light blue sundress. There’s no cleavage and barely even a waist. I’m holding a teenage girl’s right hand; Death is holding her left; neither of us is letting go. I roll my eyes at him and he shrugs. “I thought she was mine.” Alice lays still, shallow breaths raising the carefully knit pink blanket that covers her chest. Her left wrist is bandaged tightly, but blood is seeping through. An IV is attached to her right wrist, pumping who knows what into her veins. Her short blond eyelashes rest gently on her pale face. I can’t tell if her face is colorless because of her condition or because her sister had wiped her vibrant mask of makeup off just hours earlier while the doctor had been talking to their parents. That was before we arrived. Her parents sit in two plastic chairs, the type with those marbleized blue patterned fabric cushions, the type no human thinks is comfortable, yet Spring 2020 | 89

they still use to furnish their waiting areas. The father is a tall handsome man who nervously wrings his hands. His mannerisms conflict with the confident suit and tie he wears, having come directly from the firm where he was a partner. The mother’s mascara has run and the only trace of her crimson lipstick is a stain on Alice’s cheek. She’d prepared for a church fundraiser this morning, then a quiet day doing housework. But instead she sits in her wrinkled dark blue dress and clutches a book so hard her knuckles have gone white. Carefully Curated by Your Local Bookshop Ghost: A collection of short stories that have vanished. An odd choice in general, but especially now, with her daughter lying in bed. Of course, the mother hasn’t looked down at page four in quite some time. Her eyes stay fixed on Alice for the next three hours as we all sit in silence. The only time they move is to glance at me, then again to look away whenever I meet her eyes. I suppose she was surprised by my appearance. I look about 19, the same age as her Alice in this dress, and my blond curls give the idea that I’m basically an otherworldly Shirley Temple. My appearance tends to put mothers at ease though. She’s spoken to me twice, but refuses to acknowledge Death, which I find quite rude. Just because they want me to claim their daughter, doesn’t make Death’s job any less important. A doctor in a white coat and impractical heels enters the room. Her makeup is just a little too flawless for my comfort and screams television, not I’ve been here 13 hours monitoring Alice, (which, for the record, she has). “Excuse me,” she says, gesturing for Death to step aside so she could check vitals. He obliges, sliding his hand down to Alice’s foot. The doctor and I both want Alice to be mine, but Death couldn’t leave. I should probably be afraid of Death. If I stood on my tiptoes, I could probably just barely reach the shoulder of his suit with my hand; if I jumped, I may even be able to swipe his grey fedora. But honestly, I wouldn’t try. See, we get along fairly well. We’re kind of bookends to the human experience. Sure, we hover now and then where we don’t belong, but for the most part, we do our jobs and stay out of each other’s way. The last time Death and I stood in the same room for this long was when he took the mom and I took the child last January after a long labor. It’s good to see his face often though. His hollow eyes remind me why my job is so important. The doctor looks at me, her eyes red. “What else can I do?” she asks, and I realize she’s been crying. Waterproof makeup really had come a long way in the past decade. “Patients in Alice’s…” I pause, searching for the most sensitive word. “Condition. Yes, patients in Alice’s condition are unpredictable, that’s why we’re 90 | Perception

both here,” I say, pointing to my unfortunate counterpart. “I’m glad you’re here,” she says to me, eyeing Death. “I like the notion that Alice has a chance.” “Me too,” her mother says. The doctor turns to the nervous parents and takes a deep breath “May I speak to you both outside?” What she really wants is to speak without Death and Life listening in, but she doesn’t realize we can be anywhere. Or perhaps she doesn’t want the sister to hear what she was about to say. The sister has been sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed this whole time. She still wears her Huntington High School uniform and has $300 headphones on, presumably trying to drown out this nightmare with whatever pop songs were on the top charts. Her eyes are closed and she takes slow, deep breaths. Perhaps she’s meditating or praying? I honestly wasn’t sure. I do know one thing though; the sister is very much alive. She radiates a different type of life that keeps Death at arm’s length. I don’t think he could touch her if he tried. Denial? I’ve seen it before, but not this strong. Usually when Death arrives, he takes a little bit out of the entire family. But not this girl, not yet anyways. As soon as the doctor pulls the door shut, the sister takes her headphones off and meets my eyes, then looks to Death. “Why are you both here?” she asks. “I’ve heard rumors of one of you coming to hurry someone’s fate along, but never both. I stare at her, unsure how to put it into words. We only appear on the rare occasion when a human body is stubborn. Death appears when they are supposed to die, but continue to breathe. I am called when they have more to do, but choose to chase death. Alice is supposed to go on to save thousands of lives with a cure for pancreatic cancer that she’ll develop in med school. However, because Death is here, I don’t know anymore. I can’t explain to the sister that I don’t know Alice’s fate, just that I was here to claim her. Death takes the challenge and opens his mouth. “She’s supposed to die. Her death spurs your parents to go on to open a center for troubled youth and save hundreds of lives from the same fate. But because Life is here, I honestly don’t know. I was at a bar about to go on with my band when I was summoned. I just know who I’m supposed to help.” Help wasn’t the right word just then, and the sister winces. “I know I don’t help in the most traditional sense,” Death says, an apology evident in his voice. “But this is who I am, and I don’t have a say. Neither does Life.” I focus on Alice’s cold hand in mine, fearing that Death has scared the sister. “That’s… unsettling. But honestly more of an answer than the doctors will give me.” Spring 2020 | 91

I smile at her. She’s wise for a 16-year-old. She continues. “They won’t tell me anything,” she whimpers and for the first time her defenses lower and I see a scared child. The sister goes silent as a nurse enters the room. I think she’s going to ask me about a patient on the edge, but instead she approaches Death. “What’s it like?” she asks. “It’s painful. If not for you, then for everyone who loves you.” “They’re stronger than me. They’ll be okay.” Death’s face twists with pity and I hide a smile behind my fist. He’s not as cruel as he’s made out to be. “They won’t be though,” he says. “Your parents will split up because they are staying together to keep up appearances for you. Your little sister will cry herself to sleep every night because she’ll think she did something wrong, that she didn’t love you enough, that she asked for too much and that’s why your parents split up. She’ll never understand. And your boyfriend, he’ll bounce from abusive relationship to abusive relationship because he believes he deserves it.” The nurse stands there, eyes wide. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, then turns and walks away. The sister looks between us. “What just happened?” “She’ll probably kill herself tonight,” Death remarks. A look of horror crosses the sister’s face. “You can’t say things like that around the humans,” I say. “I wasn’t struck by lightning, so…” he shrugs, smirking. “It…” The sister takes a deep breath. “It’s okay. It’s weirdly comforting that Death is honest. Honesty is something I’m no good at. Alice was though.” “Is,” I remind her gently. “Is,” she repeats in a whisper. “Actually, no,” she corrects herself. “Alice was.” I look at her, understanding, but still want to give her some hope. “She still has a chance, that’s why I’m here.” “But she hasn’t truly been alive in months,” the sister says, confirming what I already suspected. “She’s just kind of been existing. You know, going through the motions but not caring about shit.” That’s when I realize that the life that rolls off the sister isn’t denial, it’s faith. This girl lives with a different perspective on Life and Death, that’s why she was so open with Death in the room, a rarity. The parents return and sit back in their waiting chairs. They are silent, save for an occasional sniffle. With them back in the room, the sister goes silent. “Do you want us to give you a break?” I ask the sister, eying her parents. “You can leave?” she asks, straightening her posture. 92 | Perception

Death nods. “For a short time.” Death and I count under our breath and release Alice’s hands at the same time. We step outside and I slump against the brick wall, sliding down till I’m seated on cracked pavement. Sirens wail in the background as another emergency enters the hospital. We meet each other’s eyes as we simultaneously realize that this one’s fate was already sealed and we weren’t needed. Death produces a saxophone from thin air and begins to play, a melodious blues song I’ve never heard surrounds me. He plays a few tunes, then removes his grey coat and sets it on the air where it vanishes. He’s left with what was once a white button up collar shirt, but is more of a sepia by now. That’s the difference between him and I, he ages. See, with every life I preserve, I grow younger and am robbed of experiences and of memories. I’m constantly seeing the world as if for the first time. The sliding glass door opens with a sound of rushing air and the sister steps out. Her headphones are on and her backpack is slung over one shoulder, it was a heavy bag for a girl her age. Death stops playing and offers me his hand, so I let him pull me to a standing position. The sister has stopped and is watching us. She motions to me and I walk over. Death resumes playing softly behind us. “Will you pray with me?” she asks, her eyes wide, probably assuming I have a more direct line than her. I glance back to where Death was standing, but he’s gone. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper to her.

I stand at the back of the church. Death stands beside me. The family is sitting in the front right row. Four white roses lay on top of the wooden casket. The sister walks up to the podium where the pastor hands her the microphone. I’ve always said Death was the tallest man I knew. I think this pastor is taller. “Everyone loved Alice…” The sister begins. She chokes back a sob, covering her mouth with a fist. “She… She was the sister I could never be. She was up early to teach Sunday School, I slept in from karaoke night. She brought the floral centerpieces to the nursing home after prom, I didn’t go home that night. She taught me to cook. She helped me study for chemistry when I blew off a week of classes. She laid in bed with me and held my hand when my boyfriend broke up with me. She lived with purpose, with intentionality. She was the woman everyone should aspire to be.” The congregation nods along and a woman in the middle row cries a resounding “Amen.” I smile, appreciating the warmth. The church is the most alive thing I’ve ever experienced, and that’s coming from me. The stone chapel radiates Spring 2020 | 93

with a sound, almost a hum, but warmer. A single heartbeat stands out and covers the mixed human sounds, uniting them. The life doesn’t belong to any one being, but rather it was a collective life, one that flowed through all of them, sloshing to fill each of them up when they began to drain. It was then that I realized what I had called living felt more like existing when measured up to this. How could Alice have walked away from this? The sister looks down at the words she’d prepared, then crumples the paper in her hands, nervously twisting it as she opens her mouth. “I lost and mourned that girl a few months ago though. Today just doesn’t feel real, because she’s been gone for a while. But it’s new for all of you.” At this, Death chuckles. His laughter rolls over the somber congregation. The sister gives him a wistful smile and continues. “Still, I can’t deny that she left an impact. On each of you,” she pauses, meeting the eyes of a few in the crowd. “And on me. I… I, the living get to be a part of her legacy. You, the living get to honor her memory. Last night I asked myself, why… Why are we the living?” She can’t hold it in any longer and a sob escapes her lips. “Thank…” she covers half her face with an open hand and wipes the tears. “Thank you all for coming.” She begins to sob freely and sets the microphone down, walking slowly back to her seat. I approach the sister after the service and wrap my arms around her, wishing I had an answer for her. So we go to the beach. We go that night and I hope that the boy and his friends are there again, so I can show her how to live. She puts on a green polka dot one piece with a ruffled skirt, almost reminiscent of the 50’s. The moon is out tonight, and the choppy waves glint with silver. There’s no fire, just a pile of ashes where it once burned. There’s no friends and no him. I don’t know why I thought he would be here. I never even got his name, I had just stumbled upon their party and flirted a little until he was mine. I thought I had done him a favor; that’d he’d never and would never feel as alive as he had that night. But now I know that wasn’t living. Still, the beach feels hollow without him. The world feels hollow without Alice. But it’s as temporary as last night’s bonfire. Death joins us, emerging from the shadows and stands at a respectful distance. I don’t think I’ve seen him since he took the mom and I took the child last January after a long labor, but I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. The wind whips through the beach, blowing sand away, and with it, my memories. I know I’ll see Death again, but I’ve already forgotten the last time. I do love the beach though, but I can’t recall why. I wave Death over, but he shakes his head gently and leaves, silently as he appeared.

I slip off my shoes and let my feet sink into the cold, damp sand. The sister does the same, toeing the ash until her foot is blackened. She doesn’t wash it off in the ocean, she doesn’t even look at the ocean. Instead she kneels down and picks up a stick to stir up the ashes. The embers glow and she leans down to blow on them. “I, the living,” she whispers. She puts a handful of twigs on top and a tiny flame bursts to life.