Into This River I Drown

by TJ Klune

  “What happened?”

  Michael hesitates.

  “Tell me!”

  “Father revealed the whole of the design to Calliel,” he says. “The outcomes of his decisions, however far down the line they could go. He gave Calliel the choice of who to save on that day.”

  “Why didn’t he save my father?” I croak out. “Why did he choose to save Griggs?”

  “Sacrifice, Benji. It all comes back to sacrifice. Choices are never meant to be black and white. By saving your father, he would ensure he would have lived a long and healthy life, that he would have been by your side for decades to come until one day, at the age of ninety-eight, he would have died peacefully in his sleep, surrounded by you, your partner, your children and grandchildren. He would have been so loved by the family you would have had.”

  “And by saving Griggs?”

  “By saving Griggs, he potentially ensured the survival of humanity.”

  “What?”

  Michael looks down at his hands. “Should the business of the Elementals on the other plane of existence resolve in the way we hope and all the worlds be saved, there will come a time, a hundred years from now, when there will be the possibility that a man will rise in the East on this plane with the intent to destroy all he sees. His fate will be decided by a simple action by George Griggs. Two years after your father died, Griggs helped save a young woman involved in a car accident. Because of him, she lived and will go on to give birth to a daughter. That daughter will grow up and give birth to a son. That son will save another woman from a fire, who in turn will live and give birth to twins. And so on and so forth, down the line, until the necessary opposition will rise against the man in the East, and humanity will have a fighting chance.

  “My father revealed more of the design to Calliel than he ever had to anyone before. Calliel was left with a choice of whether to ensure your happiness or to make sure the world has a chance at survival should this dark man rise, long after you’ve already gone.”

  “He punished him,” I say bitterly. “What you’re trying to say is that he punished him for loving me.”

  “Sacrifice, Benji. It all comes down to sacrifice. And while the decision was difficult on Calliel, he made the only one he could, the only one an angel in his position could.”

  “And it had nothing to do with jealousy?” I snap at him. “Cal saw my future if my father had lived. You said I had my own family with me when my father died. Cal was obviously not in it. You don’t think that influenced his decision at all?”

  Michael looks at me sharply. “Does anything you know about Calliel suggest pettiness?” he asks, his voice hard. “I know you’re angry, and I know it hurts, but think carefully before you speak, child. You’re not a stupid boy, so don’t act like one.”

  Ashamed, I look away. He’s right. Of course he’s right. Calliel doesn’t have a selfish bone in his body. But even though it’s not fair to him, I still can’t find a way to soothe the anger burning through my veins. He could have saved my father. Cal could have saved Big Eddie and I would have had him for a lifetime.

  “Why did he fall, then?” I ask.

  “Because of your grief, Benji. Calliel was finding it harder and harder to live with the consequences of his decision. He broke protocol by making a promise to your father, one that was not his to make.”

  “What promise?”

  “Think, Benji. You know. You’ve seen this. You’ve heard this. You’ve been there. It was in—”

  the river

  “—your dreams. You’ve been getting closer and closer every time, and you finally heard what you were supposed to hear.”

  I close my eyes and in the dark, I remember the river:

  You have to protect him. If you are who you say you are, if you are a guardian angel, if you’ve been watching us all this time, then I’m asking you. No, I’m begging you. Do your duty. Guard him. Protect him with everything you can. Never take your eyes off him and let no harm come down on him. Do you promise me?

  Big Eddie, I—

  Promise me! You fucking promise me! This is my son! You fucking promise me!

  I promise.

  “He promised to protect me,” I whisper.

  “He did, but it was more than that. He is a guardian, Benji, and he would have guarded you anyway. But he was bound to his promise because Big Eddie meant it more than being a guardian. And Calliel knew that when he made the promise. He knew what it meant to accept a dying man’s last wishes. He loves you, yes, more than I think I’ve ever seen before, but he fell to keep the promise he made to your father.”

  My mind is spinning, and I am dangerously close to being overwhelmed. There are too many emotions running through me all at once. I feel detached, and I can see everything Michael has told me swirling in me like a great storm. It’s a massive thing, an angry thing, but every now and then there’s a flash of blue, mixed in with all the black and gray and red. It’s small, but it’s bright, so very, very bright. I latch onto it, and the warmth I feel from it is like nothing else I’ve known.

  “So he fell?” I ask, closing my eyes to see the blue lights.

  “Yes,” Michael says. “It’s part of our limited free will, the choices that we can make. Metatron made that decision. And now Calliel.”

  “You keep saying free will,” I tell him. “But it sounds like anything but.”

  He laughs and I open my eyes. “Semantics,” he says with a wave of his hand.

  “So what is my test? What decision do I have to make?”

  He opens his mouth to answer, but then his eyes blacken completely and he rocks his head back slightly, his mouth dropping open. His wings shudder violently, and impossibly (improbably, I manage to think) a flash of light begins to spin above his head. I realize I’m looking at the faint outline of a halo. His lips begin to move as his eyes twitch back and forth toward the ceiling. The whispers from the walls of the White Room get louder and louder until they sound like the flow of a river. I cover my ears with my hands and bow my head as the White Room erupts in brilliant light.

  And then it’s over.

  I slowly open my eyes as I lower my hands. I look back up at Michael, who is rubbing the sides of his head. “What the fuck was that?”

  “That,” he mutters, “was my Father.”

  I gape at him. “You just spoke to him? To God?”

  He chuckles. “More like he spoke and I listened.”

  “What did he say?” I am sure I don’t want to know, but I can’t stop myself from asking.

  “That I’ve said enough,” Michael says ruefully. “That instead of telling you, it’s time to show you.” He shakes his head. “Unexpected, to say the least. I don’t think this has ever been done.” He stares at me hard. “What is it about you? Who are you?”

  The whispers in the White Room quiet. All that’s left is the sound of my ragged breaths. “I am Benjamin Edward Green,” I say. “I am my father’s son.”

  He stands suddenly, his wings flapping up behind him. He’s a commanding presence as he holds out his hand toward me. I think of my father as I stand and take his hand. “Where are we going?” I ask the archangel.

  “Away,” he says. “There is a man who needs your help. A choice needs to be made.”

  “Why? Why must we always make choices?”

  “Because my Father has commanded it.” His wings begin to close around us, to capture us in a cocoon. I glance one last time at the child’s shadow burned into the wall and send a single wish to him and the man named Seven. I wish for their happiness and that they can know peace, whatever it might take. Michael’s wings close completely, and the White Room is gone.

  “Who needs my help? What am I supposed to do?”

  Silence.

  “Michael?” I whisper in the dark.

  A hand on my shoulder. “Yes, little one?”

  “What’s going to happen to me?” I sound so small. I feel so small.

  He sighs, and when he speaks next, his mout
h is near my ear. “You are being given a great gift,” he whispers. “One most people will never receive. You must cherish it, and do your duty as a son. It’s time for you to stand, Benji. It’s time for you to stand and be true.”

  Everything flashes white.

  the river crossing

  I feel the sun on my face, warm and beautiful.

  I hear the sounds of the birds in the trees, bright and sharp.

  A breeze ruffles my hair, like a caress, carrying with it the perfume of summer. A river flows somewhere in the distance.

  I open my eyes.

  I stand on a two-lane road, the asphalt cracked, the double yellow line down the

  center faded and chipped. A bee buzzes past my face. I follow it as it floats up and down until it lands on a green sign on the side of the road. The sign reads: 77

  “No,” I mutter. “Not here. Not again.”

  No one answers me.

  I turn around to tell Michael to take me from this place, but I’m alone. “Michael!”

  No response. All I hear are the sounds of a normal, sunny day in the middle of

  nowhere.

  This angers me.

  “Why am I here?”

  I spin.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Take me home!”

  “Why do I have to choose!”

  “Michael!”

  My voice echoes over the valley. I stop, throat dry and heart sore. My chest rises

  and falls rapidly. I don’t understand why he’d take me to this place. I don’t understand why I have to come here. This place is sadness. This place is loneliness. This place is my grief.

  I look down to the river.

  It runs softly, beautifully. The water is a crystal clear blue. It laps gently at its banks. It does not feel threatening. It is not—

  A man is crouched on the riverbank near a large cracked boulder. His massive back is to me, his face hidden. He lets a hand drift in the water. He’s a big man, bigger than any man I’ve ever seen. He must be the biggest man in the world. In his chest must beat a great heart that pumps furiously to keep such a man alive. His dark hair is cut short, almost shaved completely, like my own. He’s staring down at the river as if looking at his reflection. I…. He….

  Oh, my heart. Oh, my soul.

  I need him to turn around, but I can’t find my voice.

  Impossible, I think. Improbable.

  I take a step toward him and then stop.

  “Dad?” I whisper.

  As if he can hear me, the man turns to look up to me. His green eyes shine like fireworks across a dark sky. Edward Benjamin Green, Big Eddie, my father, smiles up at me.

  “Dad!”

  And then I’m running. I’m running as fast as I can toward him, and everything around me slows and bleeds together and I—

  am five years old, and he laughs a big laugh because no one laughs like my father. None laugh like him, and it is such a joyous sound, a happy sound, an amazing sound that my heart swells until I am sure it will burst. I

  —leave the road, my feet crunching in gravel and dirt, and I—

  am ten years old, and my father shows up to pick me up at school unexpectedly. He walks in, having to lower his head so it doesn’t hit the doorjamb. I am worried at first, thinking something is wrong at home. But then he grins at me and winks, speaking quietly with Mrs. Norris. She laughs, and he beckons me with his hand. He steers me out of the classroom and out the door and we spend the rest of the day fishing off the old covered bridge. My

  —feet hit the grass, and he starts to rise from his crouch and he—

  asks me to hand him a wrench while he curses under his breath without looking up from underneath the hood of the Ford. I’m thirteen years old and scowl at his big hand engulfing my own when I hand him the wrench, wondering when I’m going to get my growth spurt so I can be big like Big Eddie. Somehow he knows what I’m thinking because he turns back to me, a grease smear on his nose, and says, “Only the size of your heart matters, Benj. The only thing that matters is”

  —that I reach him as soon as possible. I feel like I could fly down the embankment. I feel like I’m—

  dying. I feel like I’m dying as I stand under cloudy skies in a place called Lone Hill Memorial. I feel like I’m dying because I’m one of hundreds moving toward a waiting stone angel emblazed with fifteen words that mean nothing, that don’t even begin to show the measure of the man they are supposed to represent. People hover nearby. My mother, the Trio. Abe. Rosie stands to my left, next to Doc Heward. So many others. They’re all waiting for me to break. They’re all waiting for me to shatter into a billion pieces. How can I explain that I already have? How can I explain that there is nothing left to me but dust and shadows and memories that rise like ghosts? They can’t know. They couldn’t possibly.

  But that is not this moment. All that matters at this moment is the weight on my shoulder as I help carry my father up the dirt path to where the stone angel stands, her arms outstretched. All that matters is I can feel the corner of the coffin digging into my skin, the pain bright and vivid. All that matters is that I carry my father so he can sleep.

  We reach the hole in the ground, perfectly dug and fitted with the lowering device. A member of the funeral home rushes over and points out quietly how the coffin should fit against the device. This makes it more real, and I almost refuse, wanting to tell everyone to go home, that I’ve changed my mind and I will not leave him here. Abe must see the look on my face, because he steps to my side, putting his hand on my shoulder and whispering soothing words in my ear that I can’t quite make out. I nod and there’s a count to three and we set my father down.

  Later, after we’re all seated, my mother clutching my hand, Pastor Thomas Landeros says, “Into the ground we lower a man who was a husband. A father. A friend, both to us and this community. God’s plan may not make sense to us right now, and it may even make us angry, but rest assured there is a reason for all things, even if that reason is hidden from our eyes. Isaiah forty-one verse ten reads: ‘Fear thou not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God; I will strengthen thee; Yea I will help thee. I will uphold you with the right hand of my righteousness.’”

  Fuck you, God, I think. You fucking bastard. Fuck you….

  We stand, and people sing a hymn behind me. Their voices carry and wash over me, and I realize I am not broken completely because yet another part of me fragments. A tear falls down my cheek. The singing gets louder in my head, and I float along the river because I’m bound to its goddamn surface, and these stones fill my pockets, and it’s into this fucking river I drown. I weep as I lay a single blue rose on top of the casket, my mother’s hand at my back. Tears drop onto the oak lid, and I feel my knees begin to buckle. They give way as the coffin starts to lower into the ground, and I let out such a scream, such a howl of heartbreak and loss that everyone in the crowd shudders and sighs, bowing their heads and I—

  can’t get to him fast enough, I can’t get to him fast enough, I can’t get

  —over the fact that I’m graduating high school. It’s an odd feeling, really, that I’ve survived to get to this point. But when they call my name and I hear the roar from my family, I grin and walk across the stage. I accept my diploma and flip the tassel. I take a deep breath and walk down the steps. Later, we all throw our caps in the air, relieved and scared that this part of our lives is over.

  My father is the first to reach me, running almost full tilt, and I freeze. I freeze, because for a moment, I think he had died in a river when I was sixteen, drowned after his truck flipped into the Umpqua. I have the feeling of being split, a duality that threatens to tear me apart. But then it’s gone because he’s laughing that big laugh and hugging me tightly, spinning me around in circles like he used to do when I was a kid. “You did it,” he whispers in my ear. “Congrats, boy, you did it.”

  In one world I reach the bottom of an embankment, running toward my father while trapped
in the memories of another world that never happened.

  I’m twenty-four when I come home to Big House for Christmas. I’m nervous because for the first time, I’m not coming alone. I knock on the door, dusting snow off Jeremy’s hat as he winks at me. My mother opens the door and smiles at me widely, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek. She shakes Jeremy’s hand before laughing and pulling him into a hug. Big Eddie waits just off the doorway, looking imposing as all hell, big arms crossed, a stern look on his face. My boyfriend Jeremy (who I might just be starting to love) quakes a little in his designer boots but holds his head high and reaches out to shake my dad’s hand. My dad just stares at him until Jeremy drops his hand awkwardly. I roll my eyes and punch my dad in the arm, and it’s all he can take before the façade breaks and he welcomes Jeremy with open arms.

  I’m twenty-eight when Jeremy asks me to marry him.

  I’m twenty-nine when my father stands beside me as my best man, trying his best not to cry as Jeremy slides a ring on my finger.

  I’m thirty-two when I tell Big Eddie he’s going to be a granddad. The look on his face is one of such wonder I can’t seem to catch my breath.

  I’m thirty-three when Jamie is born, all pink and perfect. Big Eddie is the first to hold him in his arms, telling him he’s so happy to meet him, that the world is such a beautiful place.

  I’m thirty-six when Hailey is born and we bring her home.

  I’m thirty-nine when Big Eddie calls to tell me he has cancer. I hang up the phone, my world crashing down around me. I book a flight that very night. He’s the one who picks me up at the airport, in the old Ford. We stay in the parking lot for an hour as he lets me sob on his shoulder, telling him he can’t leave, he just can’t. Telling him that I can’t make it through this life without him. He holds me tight.

  I’m forty when the cancer goes into remission and I remind him that he can’t get away from me that easy. He just gives me that slow smile of his and drops his heavy arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

  In the world where the river runs and the sun is shining, I’m almost to him. His face, once adorned with a smile, is now scrunched up as he starts to break. He falls to his knees and opens his arms wide, his eyes bright.