by B Latif
“Just answer the question,” I said sternly, “When did she visit you?”
“About five years ago. She came with a baby, claiming it to be Henry’s child and asked for his rights to the property.”
I stared at him. Was it true? Rose with a child?
“She told me Henry was dead.”
I hesitated. There was a pause. Perhaps he was waiting for me to ask more.
“Did…” I asked reluctantly, “did she… tell you how he died?”
“No,” he frowned as if he had never thought about it. Then he asked me a question, “But if you are Death, you would know how he died. How did my son die?”
I didn’t answer. It didn’t matter now, “Why didn’t you ask her?”
“I was angry with her and my son for eloping. I had disowned him. He wasn’t my son anymore.”
I was lost in thought again when he broke my reverie.
“How did he die?”
A flashback, red on white, then snakes on Henry. The reports in his hands.
“You have no right to know, you disowned him.”
He opened his mouth to argue but nothing came out.
“But he is my son, I want to know before dying!”
“He was your son, and you are already dead.”
It shut him up. It seemed hard for him to believe he was dead.
“So,” I walked on the snow, “What happened to the girl?”
“Who?”
“His wife.”
“Oh, well… I turned her away.”
“WHAT?”
“I…” he seemed frightened at the sudden change of my tone, “I had disowned him.”
“What did she say to you?”
“She wanted money.”
I couldn’t believe Rose would be so greedy.
“She used her child as a weapon against us, asked us for a share in the property. We didn’t know if it was Henry’s child. We had no proof.”
“So?”
“So, we turned her out of house.”
“You did what?”
“Asked her to go away, never come back. Never show her face again.”
There was silence. How odd… humans even lied after dying. He couldn’t say he threatened her to make her leave… I stared at the man, wanting to say something. I didn’t know when the words shaped themselves and came out.
“Where is she now?”
“Don’t know,” he shrugged, “Never saw her again.”
Damn. Why did I want to see her? I shouldn’t. Why? After she had killed her mother? There was no point.
“Why are you asking me about…”
A flinch and he was gone.
***
Wherever in the world I went to take a life, my eyes searched for a person, Rose. I found many roses in spring, not the one I was seeking though. My thoughts were entangled in the man’s words even now.
She had gone there for money. he said it as if she was the greediest person. It was strange she had a child. Was it a girl or a boy?
But most importantly, was it Henry’s child?
I couldn’t imagine Rose betraying Henry.
Six years is a long time, I had no clue where she would be. I went to see her apartment where she and Henry lived, but it was inhabited by other humans now. I went to see all of Henry’s friends’ houses; Daniel, Alex, Paulo. No, they were living happily with their families.
The seasons changed and it was summer when I started wondering if I’d ever see her again. But she wouldn’t live forever. Maybe I would have to wait twenty years, or even more to finally see her.
That was a long time.
I needed to see her now. Just once, for the last time. It was a fear of how much she had changed. Was she good and pious? Was she a balanced soul? Or had she changed like a rose in autumn.
The leaves began to fall. A year had passed since I took that old man’s soul. I resisted my urge to see the forest. I knew if I would go there, a thousand memories would hit me like the stones I had cast in the grave. Pebbles of memories.
It was December 1970, when I saw her after seven long years.
Wearing a red cloak, with red eyes, I walked on the snow. It had already started in that season and it would end in that season too. It was Brazil and she was living in a village there.
I couldn’t wait to see her, and at that same moment, I didn’t want to see her. It had come as a shock to me. I hadn’t expected this day would come so soon in her life.
I had expected her to live a long life.
The village was small, the snow was falling slowly and soon it would cover the streets in piles. The people were moving their things inside.
I had come before time again. Way too early just because… I don’t know why.
There was a fountain in the middle of the village, a beautiful fountain with two figures of young girls, standing arm in arm. The water coming out of it was freezing cold, but I stepped on the circular marble of the fountain that was five feet above the ground.
Having courage, I began to walk on the stone-hard marble, my arms stretched out like a bird’s wings to keep balance.
The side of my red cloak dipped in the water as I walked gracefully. No human could see me. From there, I could look around and see many faces. My eyes searched for the soul I had to take the next day.
But I couldn’t see her.
So many people, would she ever come out that day? Would she pass by the fountain? Would she see me from a distance and run away? Or would she run to me again to kill me? Did she hate me that much even now?
I couldn’t do anything but wait and watch. Circling the two figures, I couldn’t help but imagine that one figure was her and the other was me.
It gave me hope.
OBSERVATION No. 41
Helplessness and desperation in hope always gives pain.
A woman caught my attention. Her hair was covered with a scarf, her blue dress was covered in stains and dirt, her eyes had shadows under them, her shoulders hunched, her eyes down on the path, and several cracks on her red lips. She had no grace as she walked along the path.
She was a wilted rose, unworthy and unnoticeable.
My steps on the marble stopped as I stared at a once so familiar face.
OBSERVATION No. 42
Humans say time can heal everything. Sometimes, past leaves such deep scars that even time can’t erase them.
And those scars were quite visible in her stroll, in her expression, in her appearance. She didn’t even look up at me as she passed by. And it was then that I noticed a little boy holding her hand, skipping steps.
That boy appeared to be about six years old, very cheerful and full of life, reminding me of Rose in her childhood. He was just like Rose, her son. Had she remarried?
But I was more concerned about her state than marriage. She hadn’t seen me, so I didn’t call her. I watched as she turned a corner and vanished. My eyes remained on the place she had changed her path.
Changed her path…
When she had chosen the human world, instead of the world I had created for her. If I had known it would make her this, I wouldn’t have let her go and locked her up.
After several minutes standing still, I began to walk on the marble again, around the statues.
There was nothing to do be done. The sun had long set in and soon it would be dark. My legs didn’t get tired from circling.
The stars illuminated the sky and I lay down on the marble, the street having emptied long ago.
My hand was in the water and the other on my chest, my knee arched and the other leg dangling down. Eyes glowed red as I looked at the stars. It was fear that kept me lying there all night.
OBSERVATION No. 43
Man was born to betray the Lord. Life is a game that humans play with Him. if they play fair, they win. If they cheat, they lose.
I didn’t know how much she had cheated. In which category she was. How would I scare her and give her pain while taking her soul?
I
couldn’t do that, and it scared me.
Rolling over on my side, I slipped my hands behind my head but kept my eyes on the stars. Why were there so many that night?
I watched the twilight, then the false dawn hiding the stars from me… Rose would hide too, disappear from the earth and then there would be no stars because she wouldn’t cry.
Then came the beautiful dawn. I hadn’t watched it for ages. It was the most charming moment earth had. I could hear chirping, and the windows opened.
I also got up, sat on the marble, my crimson eyes fixed on the narrow alley Rose had gone into last night.
Many people came out and the square was crowded again. The snow had stopped falling long ago and it was a pleasant, sunny day.
There she came, wearing a hand-knitted cardigan, her hair in a bun, but no boy by her side. She was going to work, with a bicycle. She passed by me without looking, and I followed her.
After walking for some time, Rose mounted her bicycle and rode it slowly because there were people there. it was a good speed for me to follow her.
Should I stop her and talk to her? Should I take her life without explaining anything, without a word?
But it seemed unfair. She hated me. Was it fair for her to die in that hate?
But what was the point of explanation? She would die and there would be no need for it. It had been half an hour and Rose wasn’t stopping anywhere.
Where was she going? The village was left behind. In fact, the city wasn’t far away. She was in a populated area, riding with a straight face.
She took a turn, I followed. What if she noticed me? I pushed away the thought, it was out of the question.
She was going toward an industrial area, no people just cargo trucks. And it occurred to me that she worked there.
Why did she work so far away? Where did she leave her child? With whom? A honk.
A truck moving at speed came out from the left, and Rose was lost in her thoughts.
“NO!” I screamed.
She looked back at me, recognition passing across her face.
“ROSE!”
A honk.
She looked sideways. A scream.
I closed my eyes. Silence.
I didn’t want to open my eyes. I couldn’t see her. Noise, many steps, many voices.
Claret eyes saw three men there, looking at the woman lying in the middle of the road in a pool of blood. I walked toward the scene.
It was too bad to even look at her, redder than the cloak I was wearing. Her skull had broken, her limbs lay there as if she had no bones. I can’t describe it. it horrified me to see her like that.
I wanted it to change, go away, so I changed it all into her nothingness.
When she opened her eyes, she was on the soft, green forest floor, a once known place. She blinked, confused at what had just happened.
Then her eyes settled on me and she stared. I had expected nothing, except hate from her, but what she said made me speechless.
“I had… a very strange dream…”
I wished I could tell her it wasn’t a dream. But feeling no pain and all right, she must have assumed it was a dream.
“How did I get here?”
I didn’t reply. Wasn’t she supposed to berate me? Why was her tone so soft?
She remained silent after that. sitting on the heap of castle stones, I couldn’t guess her intentions.
Slowly, she got up and went to the bushes where once roses used to blossom. She scrutinized the wild bushes for some time. I didn’t want to disturb her.
After some minutes, she knelt, touching the weeds where once refined grass used to be. It was now a garden full of weeds. Her eyes moved to the heap of webbed rocks and she went to them, touching them.
Tears began to fill her eyes. She must have been encountering the memories of her childhood. Her castle, her home, her garden, her birds, her animals. It had gone, all of it.
Then she sat down on the rock beside me without saying anything. I never looked at her. I knew she would burst into anger any time. It would all be malice again.
But she never said anything, and I never looked at her. After several silent minutes, I heard a sniff, which made me look at her. The silvery streaks of tears were rolling down her cheeks.
“Why are you crying?” I asked kindly.
“Because,” she sniffed, “I’m so ashamed of myself.”
Oh, no.
Fear again, no, please don’t be a sinner. I couldn’t handle that.
“Why? What did you do?”
I frowned. She wasn’t answering me. She must have done some great sin.
“I did something terrible.”
“Which sin?” I had nothing to say to comfort her.
“I am so… so… so…” she emphasized the word, “so… sorry, Mama.”
How strange it was to hear the word Mama again. It had lost its meaning to me, that part of me was long gone, dead.
But I was more concerned about the great sin.
“Why?”
We never looked at each other.
“I – I – I,” she struggled to overcome her reluctance, “I accused my mother. And it’s a great sin. I… I found his medical reports and he had cancer.”
I relaxed. That didn’t count as a sin. She continued as if she were accepting everything standing before a judge in a court.
“I blamed you that day. I was so horrible to you… I’m so sorry!” she looked at me with pleading eyes.
I swallowed and licked my lips. How mature she was now. It was hard to believe.
Silence existed. I didn’t know why there was hesitation between us. How could I ever tell her she was…?
“I’m so glad you made time to see me,” she said slowly, “How is your life?”
I cleared my throat, “Busy.”
“What are you doing?” her voice was humble.
“Work, like always.”
At this, I heard her laughing slowly and sadly, “I remember you used to go to your work and I never asked you what your work was. What is your job?”
I shrugged one shoulder, “You’ll know soon.”
“I hope it’s better than mine. I feed the pigs.”
I didn’t reply. It seemed she had led her life in poverty.
“So, how’s your life?”
“I really… don’t know. Work, home, my son, Jim.”
“And your husband?”
She looked at me and smiled, “He died seven years ago, from cancer.”
I frowned, “You didn’t remarry?”
“No… I couldn’t…. I was pregnant. I went to his parents when I couldn’t pay my bills. But they didn’t let me come in. I told them it was Henry’s child, but they didn’t believe me. And when they heard Henry was dead, they were even angrier with me. They threatened that they would take Jim away from me, so I left.”
That diplomatic man, he had said Rose was greedy. He should have told me how helpless she was. I didn’t sympathize with her. I was feeling guilty at what would come next. Would her hate increase for me?
“I can’t remember how I happened to be here. There was a weird dream and…”
“What happened next?” I diverted her attention.
“Oh. I had nowhere to go and I was so ashamed of myself but… I came here, in the forest. I had no other home. But you weren’t here.”
She paused, her fingers on the rock.
“My home was gone, no home here either. I couldn’t face you, so I left. I met an old and kind woman who gave me shelter and helped me find work. She lived alone, so I stayed with her at her house. I go to work, and she takes care of Jim.”
I was curious; why wasn’t she afraid of me? The bullet had passed through me, the arrow as well and they hadn’t killed me. she was afraid of me then, why not now?
She wasn’t even asking the questions she was once so desperate to know the answers to.
“I came here again, two years ago.”
“Why?”
“I w
anted to see you and ask for forgiveness before I died.”
And the scene played in front of my eyes again; the bicycle, the loud honk, the truck, the scream, the bang.
I clenched my red cloak in my fists, closing my eyes. I couldn’t see that again.
“But you are already dead.”
Her eyes looked at me in disbelief, questioning and complaining.
I had my eyes fixed on hers now.
“It wasn’t a dream. The truck hit you and you’re dead.”
Tears began to well up in her eyes. there was nothing I could do to comfort her.
“You’re lying,” she whispered.
“I’m not.”
“Stop! Mama, stop.”
My jaw clenched, “And I’m not your mother.”
Another bombshell fell on her head. It was worse than the first one. It seemed she wasn’t as shocked by it this one.
It seemed all the sanity in me was fading away, there was too much that time couldn’t erase.
She turned her face away from me, “Leave me alone!”
I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
Impulsively, I held her wrist and started strutting. She didn’t protest, following me. I couldn’t look at her doleful face.
Walking fast, we reached the graveyard and I didn’t know if she had seen where we were going or not. It was her presence, the old Rose that still lingered there, pointing at the gravestones and asking me what they were.
I stopped, dragging her forward with a jerk.
Pointing at the gravestone, the dusty words were still there. I didn’t know what I was feeling, but I was sure all my sanity had been chased away.
Aisha Jason
1915 – 1940
You are going to die
“Your mother.”
She remained still, staring at the words. Without wasting time, I held her upper arm and led her to the next grave.
Her mouth slightly open as if she were having flashbacks of things she was ashamed of. For which she had wanted forgiveness. And she closed her eyes, the tears fell from her cheek onto the grave’s soil. I stood beside her, staring at my own grave.
Mama
Beginning to end
You are dead to me
Then I held her shoulders and turned her to face me.
“Look at me!” the order was like that of a feral monster. She didn’t open her eyes, shaking her head.
