Life After Death: A Story of Love, Loss, and Living

by Jamie Hitchcock

  Nathan stood on the marked spot, centered between the two bulbous eyes. Peering through the left eye, he watched as the objects on the other side shifted unsteadily with every minute movement. The motion made him uneasy. Turning away from the shapes, Nathan caught sight of Amara through the other lens as she leaned in to examine the structure from the outside. His breath halted as his vision filled with tiny, refracted images of her deep eyes, staring directly through him.

  Nathan stepped out from behind the bug’s eyes and strode over to where Amara stood, critically assessing the structure’s assemblage.

  Amara dismissed the display and straightened herself as he approached.

  “I think it would make me dizzy to have eyes like that, everything always shifting,” she pondered aloud.

  “It’s definitely a new perspective,” added Nathan, “but it wasn’t that bad from the other side. It was actually kind of a nice view.”

  Blushing, he smiled at Amara.

  She returned the smile.

  X wandered out from behind the other giant eye, cautiously navigating through the crowd toward the souvenir table.

  Nathan and Amara followed him over to the stand. After X thoroughly perused all of the trinkets on display, Nathan finally helped him choose a framed anatomical bug drawing from the stand. He paid for the souvenir and ushered X toward the door.

  Moving out into the cool afternoon air, Nathan led X back over to the truck and hoisted him up into the seat before returning to Amara. Swaying nervously, he said, “Thanks for coming with us. That was really fun.”

  Amara smiled sweetly. “Yeah, I had fun, too.” She shifted slightly, mirroring his nervousness.

  Nathan glanced back over his shoulder at X, who was already slumping tiredly down into the passenger seat.

  “I should probably get him home,” he said, turning back to Amara. “I think we wiped him out. I really did have a great time with you today, and I know X did, too. Maybe you’d like to come over to my place for dinner sometime this week? If you’re not too busy, that is.”

  Amara caught herself in her nervous swaying and paused, squaring her hips to Nathan. She adjusted her chin upward, leaning forward ever so slightly. “I’d like that,” she replied warmly.

  *37*

  By April, Amara had settled nicely into a comfortable routine. During the week, she worked at the birthing center, which was her most rewarding job so far. The intimacy of the small, community facility gave her the chance to connect with her patients on a level that she hadn’t even achieved with many of her previous ones on their deathbeds. Many of these women had birthed more than one child at this center, as their mothers and grandmothers had before them. Walking into the building, it was impossible not to sense the vitality exuding from the old brick walls. Amara loved the feeling.

  She spent most evenings at Nathan’s place. His house was only two exits north on the freeway, and offered significantly more space and accessibility than her tiny studio. As it turned out, Nathan was a pretty decent chef, though their dinners benefited from her encouragement to add a few more vegetables to his menu.

  Weekends quickly became Amara’s favorite part of her routine, not because she longed to escape her occupational duties at the birthing center, but because they were once again filled with adventure, something she had inadvertently shied away from for so many years.

  On this particular Saturday, Nathan insisted on trying to teach Amara how to sail, despite her innumerable anxious excuses. Amara eventually yielded after he promised that his lesson required nothing of her except for company and observation. She really did want to spend time alone with him, since their dates so far had been generally planned for a party of three. Secretly, she was excited to learn about his passions and was willing to ignore her anxieties about the open water for the opportunity to do so.

  After dropping X off with his grandparents, Nathan and Amara headed out onto the bay. The day started out wonderfully, with a beautiful, clear sky and a crisp, marine breeze.

  Emboldened by Nathan’s confidence on the boat, Amara slowly dismissed her fears and settled onto the bench to take in the scene. Nathan’s lean, nimble hands worked tirelessly as he tied various ropes and adjusted the sails, all the while shouting loudly over the wind to educate her on his methods. His dark hair was tucked under a cap which shaded his eyes. The bill’s shadow stopped abruptly on the bridge of his nose, highlighting his square jaw in the bright sunlight. Short stubble made the edges of his features even more pronounced. He bristled against an unexpected chill and turned slightly toward the direction of its origin. Amara marveled at his sensitivity to the conditions.

  From the water, the city looked crowded and compact in contrast to the vast, glimmering ocean around her. Smudges of pink and red occupied the empty spaces between the congested buildings as the chestnut trees along the street burst into bloom. The view reminded her of her first tour of the town and the campus so many years ago. She remembered her initial anxiety at moving out on her own. The intimacy of the downtown commercial sector, with its quaint, low-rise buildings and colorful people, had offered both excitement and an unexpected comfort. It was an expansive, new world, filled with freedom and potential. That young, bright-eyed girl had never dreamed that, in all those possibilities, her life would have ended up here.

  A loud crack of thunder abruptly interrupted her reflections, followed quickly by a low, undulating rumble. Heavy purple clouds quickly concealed the bright blue sky. The air was thick, scented in earth and salt with soft floral undertones. Before they could even turn about, the heavens released a torrent of rain that raced across the bay.

  Amara raised her hood to shield against the downpour, but the water quickly seeped through the fabric and pooled in her lap.

  Nathan wiped rain from his eyes as he hurried to steer them ashore, abandoning all pretense of a lesson in his haste. Lightning flashed a warning far off in the distance.

  Nathan and Amara returned to the marina soaking, cold, and hungry. Once at the dock, Amara quickly clambered back to the safety of land, tucking their uneaten lunch among the dripping towels in her arms. Climbing into the cab of the truck, she started it up and cranked the heat, grabbing a dry towel from the back seat while Nathan hurried to secure the trailer in back. She stripped off her soaking wet coat, only to find the shirt underneath to be drenched as well. She peeled the wet fabric from her arms and wrapped a towel around her shoulders, leaving only a thin camisole underneath. Steam fogged the inside of the windows.

  Nathan hauled the door open and hurriedly jumped into the seat beside her, finally escaping the torrential rain. He took his cap off and shook his short hair like a dog, splashing large droplets of water over every surface inside the cab.

  Amara recoiled from the inescapable shower, then laughed. She offered her towel to Nathan, but seeing that she was shivering underneath it, he declined.

  “I’m so sorry, Amara!” he said, embarrassed. “I checked the forecast twice this morning, and neither mentioned this much rain … nor lightning! I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though, the weather changes unexpectedly in spring.”

  He cranked the dial again, though the heat was already set as high as it would go. Rubbing her hands in his, he asked, “How can I make it up to you?”

  “Food,” replied Amara simply. “I’m starving.”

  “Done. Whatever you want.”

  They trundled home through the muddy streets, fighting to see the road through vigorous wiper blades and persistent fog. By the time they pulled into his driveway, the sky finally calmed and dispersed the angriest of clouds, leaving streaks of bright orange sun reverberating off the dark plumes in the distance. The green foliage of a tall oak tree popped vibrantly in the dualistic light. A small rainbow burst from the horizon.

  Inside the house, Amara stood in the hallway and shuddered under the cold, wet towel. Her long hair had thankfully started to dry, but at the expense of transferring the water onto the towel in large puddles down her b
ack.

  Nathan shrugged off his own wet shirt and flung it toward the laundry room door on the left. He stepped closer to her, gently brushing the towel from her shoulders and tossing that aside as well. He took another step closer, sweeping her frizzy hair behind an ear.

  Amara looked up into his face, feeling the warmth of his body close to hers.

  “Are you hungry?” he said softly.

  The question startled her.

  “Huh?”

  He chuckled affectionately. “Food,” he clarified. “You said you were hungry.” Though his tone was casual, his unrelenting gaze suggested other intentions.

  Flustered, Amara tried to collect her thoughts. She searched his eyes, finding herself unable to focus on her appetite. Submitting to her desires, she moved closer still, closing the thin gap between them until their bodies touched. Amara dropped her eyes nervously, settling her focus on the point of contact where his chest met hers.

  With two fingers, he gently guided her chin back upward and kissed her lips firmly. His other arm closed around her waist, pulling her tightly against him.

  Amara allowed herself to swoon in his embrace, leaning deeper into his kiss. Pulling away momentarily she said, “I think food can wait,” before leaning in to kiss him again.

  *38*

  Padding softly from the kitchen, Amara balanced a glass of water and an apple in her hands, a knit blanket draped loosely over her shoulders. Her bare legs prickled in the cold air. She paused momentarily outside Nathan’s bedroom, looking at a framed diagram of a dragonfly hanging on the wall in the hallway. She remembered Nathan’s son picking it from the small souvenir table at the science exhibit a couple months ago. A chill blew over her bare skin, shocking her back into motion.

  She crossed the room quietly and slid back under the heavy covers, resting her back against the headboard. Nathan lay sleeping on his stomach, facing her. Softly, she traced her fingertip along the width of his shoulder blades and then down his spine. He stirred and opened his heavy eyes, reaching an arm up and around her waist. She took a sip of water then offered it to him. Sitting up slowly, he gratefully accepted the glass and took a long drink before setting it down on the nightstand.

  Amara settled under his arm, her head resting against his chest. Their fingertips danced playfully around each other, intertwining every so often. Her eyes wandered to the dark ink on his left arm, a tall redwood tree that sprouted from his wrist and spanned the length of his forearm. Amara had noticed the tattoo before and was curious about its inspiration, but had never been bold enough to ask. Her thoughts spiraled, pulling her back to Henry’s tree, to the cave. Tracing the length of the trunk with the pad of her finger, she grounded herself back to the present.

  Nathan watched the thoughts swirling in her head.

  “I got that when I found out that my … uh ... that X’s mom was pregnant,” he explained willingly.

  “What was her name?” asked Amara.

  “Cece … Cecelia.”

  Amara nodded softly. Nathan had always shied away from speaking about her before.

  “Why did you pick this tree?” she continued carefully.

  “Because they are strong, and resilient, and maybe I was a bit afraid at the time. I thought I needed that reminder.”

  “Hmm …” Amara thought about how to proceed, fearing to disclose too much of her past. She considered the intimacies they had shared and decided he was worth the risk. This was not information she shared lightly.

  “That tree, a redwood cedar, is … special … to me also. I lost someone too, you know.” Nathan brushed the hair off her forehead with the palm of his hand and kissed her forehead. His silence invited her to continue.

  “He – my boyfriend in college, his name was Henry,” she began.

  Nathan raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly, making the connections in his head.

  “He had a brain tumor. I … I watched him die, took care of him in the end.” She caught herself abruptly, fearing she had said too much. She searched Nathan’s face for any signs of judgment, but only saw concentrated restraint, inviting her to continue before he reacted. She shifted the direction of her thoughts.

  “I planted a cedar tree over the spot where I spread his ashes, a redwood, liked this one.”

  “Did you love him?” Nathan asked softly. His tone was kind, but a tinge of jealousy crept in despite his best efforts to contain it.

  “Yes, very much.” She looked up over her shoulder into his eyes. “Did you love Cecelia?”

  Nathan paused before answering quietly, “Honestly, I don’t know. I thought I did at the time, but now I’m not so sure. Neither of us were happy really, except that we were afraid that our lives were moving on, whether we wanted it to or not. It was easier when she was with me, but she shouldn’t have been … shouldn’t have been in the truck with me. We were in a car accident, you know, and I was driving. I was …” He paused, his words halting abruptly behind his lips. “You wouldn’t be so reckless with the people you really love,” he finished seriously.

  Nathan’s words sent a twinge through Amara’s chest, like a string snapped against the wall of her heart. Had she been reckless in granting Henry’s last wish to die peacefully? She shifted onto her side to face Nathan directly.

  “Nathan, it was an accident. You can’t blame yourself for those things. It was out of your control.”

  Nathan caressed her bare shoulder, following the path of his hand with his eyes. Finally, he spoke.

  “No, you don’t understand. It was my fault that we got hit. I saw the other car coming around the corner and I should’ve gotten us out of the way, but I didn’t react quickly enough. Maybe it was because I’d been drinking. I wasn’t drunk, not legally, but I’d had a couple beers before we left that night. I was always drinking …” Tears welled in his eyes. He contained them just long enough to hide his face over his shoulder.

  Amara maintained her gaze, captured by his honesty. Grabbing his hand, she vainly tried to comfort him, but his words were still lodged in her mind.

  “I was stupid," Nathan continued slowly. "And now my son has to grow up without a mom, because of me. There’s no other way to put it. It’s all my fault.”

  He let the tears come freely now as his shame rushed to the surface.

  “I don’t think I can ever forgive myself."

  Amara didn’t know what to say. There was nothing she could say that would heal his wounds. It wasn’t her place to forgive him. That had to come from within. The only thing she could do was join him in misery.

  “There’s more,” Amara confessed slowly. “I helped him die.”

  Nathan snapped back to face her, his tears replaced by a questioning look.

  Amara forced herself to continue before she lost her nerve.

  “He asked me to,” she explained. “He was suffering, you know? But still, I am just as much to blame for his death as his illness. I helped him drink that final dose.”

  The word turned sour in her mouth as she spoke, like the poison it had been. Again, she searched his face for a reaction.

  The corners of his eyes softened sympathetically.

  “Do you think it was reckless to help him?” she asked bluntly. She didn’t realize how desperately she needed to hear his response until she spoke the words aloud.

  His silence spanned for what felt like a lifetime.

  “I think …” he began slowly, “that it was merciful.”

  Amara released the exhale she didn’t know she was holding. Her head sank back onto his chest as he nuzzled her hair.

  Having bared their secrets, Amara and Nathan lay silently for a long while, wrapped securely in each other’s arms. The weight of their confessions hung heavy in the air between them, having finally been set free from the dark cages where they lived for so long. Now, relieved of the guilt of their own transgressions, the pair gratefully carried each other’s burdens in kind.

  *39*

  “I think it’s time I show you someth
ing,” Amara offered as she directed Nathan to pull off the road. The vehicle rolled to a stop under the shade of a tall maple tree. Large, lush leaves fanned out in the canopy above them.

  “Here?” he asked curiously.

  “Just down the way.” Amara pointed off into the woods.

  Nathan surveyed the familiar landscape with astonishment, but he concealed his reaction temporarily for fear of intruding on Amara’s moment of openness. There would be time for him to explain later.

  Amara darted off into the tree line, popping out periodically from the bushes to wave him along. Nathan hurried to follow her, fueled by her desire to reach their destination before proceeding with any further context.

  They scurried along the path as it weaved through the forest, lined with budding ferns. The final descent along the creek proved to be the most perilous. Their heavy boots skidded in the slick mud. A long, frayed rope hung loosely from a tall maple tree that dangled above the water, most likely the remains of an old rope swing that was now weathered into a hazardous state. Lichen sprouted from its green-stained fibers.

  The creek funneled into a tube, diverting beneath the train tracks before pouring out the other side into the bay. Amara paused at the mouth of the creek, listening attentively. Not far off in the distance, a train blared its horn, warning of its fast approach. The train came upon them quickly, barreling down the tracks with an unstoppable force. A billowing wind followed in its wake, blowing gusts of air with each passing railcar.

  As they waited patiently for the train to pass, Nathan looked to Amara with inquiring eyes, inviting any further information she might wish to share at this point. Amara only smiled mysteriously and escaped across the tracks as soon as it was clear.

  Descending further, Nathan and Amara traversed the rocky terrain and found themselves standing on a large granite boulder near the water’s edge. Amara pointed upward toward a strip of dirt that draped precariously over the rocky ledge, exposing its underbelly and the roots that sprouted into the empty air below. A crop of trees grew upward from the dirt, holding fast despite their uneven footing. In the middle of the bunch stood a twenty-foot cedar tree, its dry, orange bark peeling along the base to reveal the fresh red fibers underneath.