by Kristen Day
We walked on for a few more minutes and I started to see changes in the surroundings that shouldn’t have been happening. On one corner I saw a tree that I recognized from my home neighborhood. A few more minutes passed and we were walking past Maria’s house, then mine. I stopped in my tracks.
“That’s my house,” I whispered to myself, “Can we go in?”
“I don’t think so,” Daman replied, speaking softly in my ear, “That’s not where we’re supposed to go just now.”
I nodded, but there was still a deep longing to go into my house, hug my sister, see my old room, and touch the books on my bookshelf that had been my constant companions on my many dateless nights. Daman pulled on my hand and I eventually fell into step next to him again, but I couldn’t keep myself from looking back at my house at intervals until it disappeared as we rounded a corner.
I gasped, the park was right there.
Daman took me to almost the exact place where I had been lying in the grass when he had found me. He sat down and pulled me down to the ground with him. He leaned back on his hands and I sat tentatively next to him.
“Do I get to know why we need to be here yet?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.
Daman rested his chin on the top of my head, “Just wait.”
We sat like that, just enjoying each other’s company for what must have been hours, but only felt like minutes. The sun was setting before we spoke again. If possible, the sunset was even more beautiful than when I had first met Daman, maybe because when it was setting then I hadn’t loved Daman. I hadn’t even known him; he’d just been another stranger who was dead like me. But now he was so much more than that, and he was here to share this sunset with me. Beauty is always so much better when it can be shared.
I lifted my hand to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.
Daman put the piece of hair back where it had been.
“I like it there,” Daman said.
I rolled my eyes and turned around to look at Daman in the face, “Is that why we came here? So you could tell me how to do my hair?”
Daman was about to reply when something made him stop, I followed his gaze to a figure coming towards us from the playground. It looked like man with two heads.
“Do you think we should be afraid?” I asked.
“No,” Daman answered honestly, “That’s our reason for being here.”
We watched the man come closer, and we also began to notice more people behind him. Eventually I saw that some of the man was carrying a tuba and was dressed in Sunday best; other like him followed. Soon the park was teeming with musicians and listeners alike.
Daman stood up and then helped me up. We waited there as the people with instruments took various spots on the playground. Some of the ones with smaller instruments settled down on the swings, some on the lips of slides, others standing on the platforms and even a few sitting atop the monkey bars.
I glanced at Daman to see if he was as unsure as me, but he just stood there smiling at me. He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and pulled me closer to the playground with the rest of the couples.
No one spoke; they all seemed to be waiting. The musicians all raised their instruments without any kind of cue and began to play a slow tune that sounded extremely familiar, but I couldn’t place the name.
“Shall we dance?” Daman whispered in my ear. I looked around and saw that all of the other couples had come together and were moving to the music.
“Okay,” I said.
Daman pulled me into him, wrapping his right arm around my waist and taking my right hand in his left. I couldn’t reach his shoulder comfortably, so I rested my free hand on his chest. Then he was stepping, using the arm at my waist to guide me, he moved with an ease that astonished me. I’d never been danced with before, but Maria had described what it was like to me. She said it was awkward, boys were afraid to get too close. They placed both hands on your hips, barely daring to touch you and the whole time your hands were digging into their shoulders trying to pull them closer so that you could talk without yelling.
This was nothing like what Maria had described. This was comfortable, this was perfect. I rested my head on Daman’s chest and we continued to step and move with the music.
The changing light was so gradual I didn’t notice it at first, but after a moment I realized people that weren’t dancing were lighting candles and placing them around the dancing couples.
The light softened the lines on Daman’s face; it made him look younger, more fragile and softer.
“Candlelight looks good on you,” I said, to Daman.
I felt him laugh, “You should see yourself. It’s not fair to all the other girls here.”
I blushed and was grateful that even with the candles it was still dark enough that he couldn’t see.
The band kept playing and we kept dancing until the candles had burnt low and hints of dawn were playing at the edge of the horizon.
Then, in unison, the band ended their song, removed themselves from their perches and began leading the procession out of the park. All the other couples followed, except Daman and I. It just didn’t seem right to leave.
We stayed there, Daman holding me close, and me breathing in the scent of him.
“Alice,” Daman said softly.
“Yes?” I was half asleep standing there with my head on his chest and my eyes closed.
“I have something for you; I found it in my pocket when we were at the café. I think it’s meant for you.”
I was suddenly more alert. Daman released me and I was aware that the night was colder than it had seemed. He reached into his pocket and dropped to one knee, holding my left hand.
“Alice,” Daman said, “Would you marry me?”
I gasped; my hands flew to my mouth and I couldn’t seem to find any words. All I could do was nod and allow Daman to slip the simple diamond ring onto my finger. It was faster and more reckless than any romance Verona had ever seen, but we were already dead, how bad could a whirlwind like this be?
The scene around me changed in an instant. We were still in the park, but it was twilight again. All the dancing people and musicians were back, but there was an order to their motions now. The band was playing another familiar song and as I looked up to see what Daman was making of the event, I realized he was thirty feet away, wearing a suit and staring at me in anticipation.
Chapter Eleven
I had a sudden feeling of deja vu and looked down at myself just to make sure. Curled loops of my hair fell down around my face and tickled my jaw; I brushed the tendrils away impatiently and stared at my apparel.
I was wearing the wedding gown I had seen in my vision after Daman's life.
All at once, everything clicked. Daman had just asked me if I would marry him, and suddenly, here we were. A man behind Daman was motioning me forward. He was holding a book and was dressed like a priest, but I still didn't catch on. It took someone hooking their arm through mine to wake me up. I looked over to see who was touching me and realized it was my father.
I gasped and jumped on my dad, hugging him to me tightly. At first he was surprised and didn't respond, but after a moment he hugged me back.
I had always taken my father's hugs for granted; they were always there for me to have. I had pushed down the pain of missing my family, but now it was resurfacing. It shouldn’t have been so painful because my dad was right there, but I knew as soon as I’d had the experience in this door.
Someone in the audience cleared their throat and I finally broke away from my dad with tears streaming down my face. My dad reached over and dropped a veil over my face.
The band took up the tune of 'Here Comes the Bride' and my father and I began walking toward Daman. As we approached I recognized other members of the audience. My mom and Lacey were standing on Daman's left, both smiling joyously. I resisted the urge to run and hug both of them, but, of course, I had something else to do first.
My dad handed me off to D
aman who took both my hands in his.
I tried to listen as the priest read the vows, but the harder I tried to listen the more scrambled the words seemed to be, I focused my energy on studying Daman instead.
Daman was looking at me strangely. I couldn't quite place why, but the look made me uneasy, did I note a kind of hunger in his eyes? A blink later and my apprehension was gone, as was the disconcerting look, all I saw now was love.
"Alice," Daman whispered, "Say 'I do'"
I hadn't realized that the priest had asked me if I was willing to marry Daman because of my preoccupation with the latter's eyes.
"I--,” there was no opportunity to finish. Daman dropped both my hands and suddenly he was changing in front of me. He looked oddly blocky and was turning black as the night around us. I realized what was happening a second before Daman completed his transformation into a door emblazoned with ‘Loss’.
"No," I whispered to myself. I tried pinching myself, but Daman stayed a door and I knew I had to go through it.
I looked back to see if everyone else had witnessed what had just happened, but no one was there. Not even a trace of them. It seemed like all the stars had gone out leaving just the musty glow of the streetlamps. A chill wind blew past moving my now straight hair into my face. I brushed it carelessly aside and looked down at myself.
“I already suffered loss!” I screamed. The wind stole the words and threw them against a tree. Torrents of wind swirled around me, whipping my hair and chilling me through before it stopped suddenly.
No longer was I wearing the fantasy dress, just my old jeans and sneakers. The only reminder of what had just happened to me was the glittering ring on my finger, like the glass slipper that didn't fade after the ball.
I stretched out my left hand, keeping the ring in sight should it attempt a disappearance, and opened the door.
Raw emotional pain ravaged my soul. It wasn't as if Daman had just disappeared, it felt as though I would never see him again, not like he was dead, but worse. I felt like he had left me on purpose, for another woman? Because I wasn't good enough, that was it. But how could he know that already?
The ground around me changed slowly into the carpet of my hall, the night morphed into the containing walls, and soon I was facing an expanse of blank wall. Both ‘Love’ and ‘Loss’ were gone from the array of exits. Apparently, the second door I’d gone through with Daman had still been leading me through love.
I desperately wished I had saved the ‘Love’ door for last, at least then I would have something to look forward to, instead I was stuck with mostly depressing choices, I would just have to do the worst first. I anxiously twisted my ring around my finger and decided to choose ‘Misery’.
Chapter Twelve
I landed on the porch of my old house. I gasped and turned around to look down my old street. Everything was exactly how I remembered it, right down to our neighbors golden retriever chained in the yard trying to attack the floating dandelion seeds. I walked over to the dog and scratched between her ears; she shook her head and licked my hand. I used to hate when dogs would do that, but now it was just another sign, that even if it was only artificially and temporarily, I was alive, and this animal knew it. The ring on my left hand caught my eye again and I sighed wishing Daman were here to help me through this door. It didn’t sound like it was going to be easy to do alone.
A tap on my shoulder startled me, I whipped around and almost fell over when I saw who was touching me.
“Daman!” I practically screamed. I ran to him and leaped into his arms, burying my face in the smell of him.
“Hi, Alice,” Daman said, “Are you okay? I just saw you an hour ago and now you’re acting like you thought I had died or something,”
I stepped back away from Daman and looked at him, puzzled, “An hour ago?" Then I recovered, "It felt like ages, sorry."
“It's okay,” Daman said, “maybe the stress of telling your parents we’re married got to you,”
I was terribly confused, “Yeah, that must be it.” I couldn’t help but wonder why I would be nervous about telling my parents we were married, hadn't they just seen us tie the knot? My dad had walked me down the aisle for heaven’s sake. Daman grabbed my hand, and I immediately felt better. He lifted my hand up to his mouth and kissed it, “They’ll be fine with it, don’t worry,”
“Why would I worry?” I asked. Maybe in some romantic movie that would be a line full of faith in my parents that they would love my husband, but this wasn’t a romantic movie, this was some weird after life thing that was happening to me and I really wanted to know why I should be worried at all that my parents wouldn’t like Daman. They'd seemed perfectly fine with him when the priest asked for objections to our marriage.
Together, Daman and I walked up to my front door; he reached out a finger and rang the doorbell. Within seconds, the door swung wide open, revealing my mother. I couldn’t help myself, I jumped on her and hugged her tightly, but she didn’t respond. She didn’t look happy to see me, in fact, she looked half murderous.
“Why,” she said icily, “did you bring that here?” She pointed a menacing finger at Daman.
“Mom!” I said. I was appalled, my mother had never been one to hate anyone, let alone refer to a person as an object or put that much feeling into one word for that matter. My mother had always been a quiet woman who hardly spoke above her ‘inside’ voice.
“We have something to tell you Mrs. Patterson,” Daman said diplomatically, “Can we come in?”
“Anything you have to say can’t deserve that much pomp and circumstance, what do you want?” my mom asked. By now my father and sister, Lacey, had joined my mother at the door, mirroring the hateful look on her face.
“Mom, Dad, Lacey,” I said, addressing each of my family members, “we’re married, we want you--”
“You got her pregnant didn’t you?” my father asked, “That’s the only way you would want to marry her,”
“What? No!” I tried. How could my dad say that? It wasn’t just an insult to Daman, but an insult to me. Daman was attractive for sure, but it was his choice to marry me not the other way around. Besides, he’d turned into a door before the audience at our wedding could even clap for us.
“Mr. Patterson, I have the utmost respect for your--,” Daman started.
“Don’t even start with me, Daman, we know your background,” Dad said.
“His background,” I asked, growing angry with how terrible my family was being, “How could you be so prejudiced? You didn't have a problem at our ceremony!"
“We didn't go to the ceremony, remember?” my mother screamed, “And you should know why we're upset. Your new husband was driving the car that killed your brother!”
My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My brother hadn’t died in a car crash! He had died a hero in a fire; Daman had nothing to do with it!
“Your son was drunk, Mrs. Patterson,” Daman said calmly, “He ran a stop light, I just happened to be the unlucky one who hit him when he did that,”
That wasn’t true either! My brother would never drink! My parents had raised us not to, we had relatives who did, we had seen what alcohol did to them and we had promised ourselves when we were young that we would never touch the stuff. Besides, I’d been the one killed by a drunk driver, something was horribly wrong and I knew it would only get worse.
By this time I had let go of Daman’s hand. Both of my own hands were clenched into fists, my throat hurt from holding back tears and my face was burning hot from the anger I felt at my parents for being so cruel. I tried to prepare myself for what they might say next, I didn’t do a good enough job I guess.
“And you picked up my daughter at the scene,” my dad said angrily, “If you marry him that’s a betrayal of our family, and I won’t be able to call you my daughter anymore, you’ll just be another stranger on the street who messed her life up. Except you didn’t ruin your life with substance, you married a killer,”
My knees buckled from underneath me and I fell to ground, Daman attempted to help me, but I didn’t want to get up, my legs weren’t strong enough to hold me. All I could do was sit on the porch and look at my parents and my sister. The people who I had thought were more loving than any three people on the earth. My dad who had been, strong and brave while I died, my mother who had tried to reassure herself that I’d be okay, and my sister, who had once cried for three days out of empathy for one of her friends whose dog had died.
“Lacey,” I started to say. Surely if I could get Lacey to side with me my parents would come around, “Lacey, come on, Daman’s not a bad guy! It wasn’t even his fault that Jamie died!”
Even though I knew Daman killing James wasn’t true, it felt like it was, as though my subconscious had created a nightmare so vivid I was living it.
Lacey’s gaze was as stone cold as a statue’s, “I thought you loved James.”
Her words cut me deeper than any knife ever could have. These were words coming from my own sister. She was saying that I didn’t love my brother. She couldn’t have been more wrong, she had to know that! James and I had been closer than I had even been with Maria, and we had been best friends since Kindergarten. The relationship I had with James was different than just any other brother-sister relationship I had ever seen. Most sisters I’d seen had hated their older brothers because of how much they teased them, and older brothers I knew thought their younger sisters were pests. Not James, he was respectful, he protected me, and he made me feel like a princess. If he ever saw that I was suffering from middle-child-syndrome, he would take me out for ice cream, or out for a drive, or before he had a license, he would even sit down and play Barbie’s with me. If I didn’t love James, then I didn’t know what love was.
“Lacey,” I whispered, “how could you say that?’
“How could you say yes to him?” Lacey returned icily.
My jaw dropped, tears filled my eyes, I tried to turn into Daman for support, but he was just standing and staring at my parents, anger in his eyes.
