It said nothing in response.
“Never mind.”
I turned my attention to the window and watched as tiny crystals fell from the sky, adding to what had already accumulated last night. I wondered if it was just as soft as before.
That’s when it hit me.
“Drugs!” I practically yelled at the cat that, seemingly annoyed by being disturbed, got up and sauntered off into another room. I must have done drugs. Right? We had gone out and drunk a lot, and it was very plausible. How else could I explain waking up with no recollection of what happened or how I got there?
“The thing is, though,” I yelled after the cat, “I’ve never done drugs in my life.”
I was suddenly aware that I was standing right in the middle of the bedroom window. If anyone were to pass by, they might realize I didn’t belong.
“I’m going to continue exploring.” I was talking to myself, but that was the least of my concerns.
As I left the room, the smell of cinnamon rolls grew even stronger. There on the edge of the dining room table was a pan filled with them. The frosting had an orange tint, confirming my suspicion that they were there for me.
They were fresh out of the oven, too. That meant someone had to be there, right?
“Hello?” I called again.
Or was it the drugs because why would my favorite cinnamon rolls show up in a house that was dreamed up by me. Something--no lots of things weren’t adding up.
“Don’t you dare start talking.” I shook my finger at the cat, who had hopped up on the table to get closer to the cinnamon rolls.
The cat opened its mouth, and for a moment I thought it would speak--until the hammering noises started back up again.
“Jesus Christ!” I quickly dove under the table, waiting for them to stop. After several minutes, they gave no sign of letting up. The whirring of some sort of saw joined the hammering sound. They were scrambling my thoughts. I needed to do something.
“That’s it.” I made my way to the door and paused for a moment before turning back to the table. “I am not going alone, though.” I grabbed a cinnamon roll in one hand. In the other, I hoisted the cat underneath my armpit. He gave a small meow of resistance but otherwise made no effort to fight me, as if it knew all along that it would be dragged along with me.
It was hard to tell where the hammering sound was coming from, because it seemed to surround me and reverberate off walls that didn’t seem to exist.
I quickly ate the cinnamon roll, which was actually easier said than done with a cat under one arm.
“Hmm.” I looked around. I had decided to go back up the path I came from until I got to the part where it split in two.
We walked in silence for what seemed like an eternity. I had run out of energy to keep up a conversation with a cat. The journey was made even more difficult by the fact that I was walking barefoot in that same strange snow-like substance as before. I reached another fork in the road and had no idea which way to choose as the hammering noise continued. I peered around, confirming my suspicions that I was still alone.
The cat gave a small purr noise and bumped its warm head against my side. I scratched behind its ears and it bumped me again, a little harder. He wanted to go down.
I said a silent prayer, willing my only companion not to run off before I placed him on the path. His stubby gray paws disappeared into the snow, but it didn’t seem to faze him at all. He started down the path that led into the trees. It was darker and more secluded than the alternative option.
“Of course you’re choosing this one,” I grumbled.
The cat turned around to make sure I was coming. I had no other option, so I followed.
The snow was falling more heavily, sticking to my hair and shirt. I brushed it off, surprisingly unbothered since it wasn’t cold or wet.
Any more of that snow, though, and my feline companion would be buried. I didn’t realize the path was ending until I bumped into the cat, which had stopped.
Off in the distance, I could finally see something other than winter. It was some strange metal contraption that almost seemed suspended in air. A stark contrast to the otherwise snowy landscape. It was long, rectangular, and dark in color.
I had finally found the source of the noise. The cat wove in and out my legs. I watched it until it finally stopped and bumped its fuzzy snow-covered head against the back of my leg, urging me forward.
As I moved closer I could begin to make out other shapes. There was definitely some sort of gold ladder propped against what appeared to be a billboard. A figure stood on a small platform in front of it.
“Excuse me?” I yelled out, running full speed towards him, ignoring any ounce of common sense that told me this was a bad idea.
There was no response. I was right underneath. I tapped the ladder, which wobbled from the force of my shoe. It certainly did not seem stable enough for me to climb up.
“Hello? I called again.
Whoever was up there either couldn’t hear me over the sound of his power tool or was intentionally ignoring me.
The man had his back to me, but I could see that he had a shorter and stockier build. He was wearing a safari hat which seemed wildly out of place.
Taking a deep breath, I screamed as loud as I possibly could. All around me, robins flew from their trees, straight up towards whatever existed beyond here.
If that didn’t get his attention, I didn’t know what would.
Nothing.
The man didn’t flinch. I watched him again as he put down the power tool without turning it off, then picked up a large hammer.
“Shit.” I took a few steps backwards. This very well could be a crazy person preparing to attack. I was prepared to run into the woods.
The cat looked from me, back to the person, and back to me. The scream I made at least seemed to have made some sort of impact on him. Otherwise, I would have been left wondering if I had even made a sound at all.
The cat flattened itself into a hunting pose, as if he were ready to pounce. Instead, a small meow escaped from his lips.
“Aha!” The man on the billboard turned around. His rosy cheeks lit up as his face broke into a wide smile. “I’ve been expecting you.” He stuck his hammer into a tool belt as he descended the ladder. I watched him coming towards me until everything went black.
Not again. I was lying flat on my back in the soft snow. Try as I might, I couldn’t open my eyes. Somewhere nearby was a crazy man with a hammer and a cat who I was 99.9% sure understood me.
If this is how I die then this is how I die. I wiggled my toes. Strangely, someone had put something on me which felt like a lightweight blanket.
“It’s okay,” a soft voice said from directly above me. “You can open your eyes.”
That’s all it took. My eyes fluttered open, zeroing in on the man hovering over me. The cat was tucked under his arm.
“There she is,” the man said to the cat as he slowly rubbed its head.
Turning back to me he said, “It’s okay. You just had a little fainting spell there. Nothing to worry about.”
As if fainting was my biggest concern. Somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something very terrible had happened to me. It was difficult to formulate the words I had buried deep inside. They all vanished anyway, the moment the man came into sharper focus, his blurred lines giving way to a brown hat, a portly body, and an eyeglass chain dangling down the middle of his plaid button-up.
“I know you.” My voice came out in a barely audible squeak.
He looked at me without saying anything for a moment before his face broke out into the widest smile I had ever seen.
His laugh started quiet, then grew into a full-blown belly laugh. The cat, startled, jumped out of the man’s arms and back to my side.
“Oh, that makes me so happy,” he said, reaching a hand down to me to help me up. “I was hoping you would.”
It was Glen. The stranger from the groce
ry store parking lot.
“You’ll remember my brother too,” he said, pointing down towards the cat. “Burt from the mechanic shop.”
All of the confusion I had been feeling must have finally shown on my face, because Glen suddenly looked very concerned.
“Oh dear.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I should probably also tell you that you’re dead.”
CHAPTER 6
Glen was chattering incessantly, but I couldn’t yet bring myself to meet his gaze. Instead, I swirled the tiny marshmallows around my lukewarm hot chocolate with my finger.
Drinking a cup always made me feel like the spirit of the holidays could never be broken—but learning I was dead had changed that.
“I’m so sorry about the hammering.” Glen sighed, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. “We’ve been working overtime to get your version of heaven ready.”
We were sitting in the last pew in a little church which had manifested itself into my heaven. I had made it to heaven.
When I ran from Glen and everything he told me, I knew I’d find that church on top of a hill. That church was part of a Christmas card pack called ‘Heaven on the Hills’ that my mom had purchased at a local craft fair when I was four. In the years that followed, I found myself sifting through the cards that remained until one by one, they were all sent out.
As difficult and impossible as this all was to process, it brought a smile to know that this was my heaven.
“I have so many questions.” I leaned back and propped my feet on the wooden bench in front of us. Realizing it was still a church, I took my feet down quickly and placed them flat on the floor.
“Actually,” I said, more to myself than to Glen, “this is my heaven, so I suppose I can do whatever I want.”
He smiled and gestured for me to put my feet back. “Where would you like to start?”
I wasn’t ready to ask about the gory details just yet.
“So everyone gets their own heaven when they die?”
Glen nodded excitedly, his eyeglass chain bouncing against his chest. “Yes. The girl before you had a thing for that feeling you get driving on an open freeway. Hence the billboards I was trying to get rid of before you arrived. You died quicker than we thought…” Glen trailed off awkwardly, narrowing his eyes on a spot on the pew in front of us.
I turned my focus to the candles on my left. Usually they were lit in remembrance of someone who had died. The irony wasn’t lost on me that only one candle was left flickering in the church.
I kept my eyes focused on the candle. “And how exactly did I die?” The flame of the candle grew brighter and brighter until it turned into the headlights of a car, barreling full speed ahead towards me.
“Ah.” Glen’s face quickly fell, but he tried to hide it. “Driver had a medical emergency and lost control of their car. You were hit.”
I gulped. “And Nina?”
“Nina will be just fine.” Glen again placed his hand on my shoulder. “A dislocated shoulder but you saved her. A noble purpose to have fulfilled.”
“Ah.” I wanted to move on from any more questions pertaining to that night for the moment. “And who exactly are you?”
He gave a nervous chuckle. “I’m your guardian angel.” He was lost in thought for a moment. “So. This is where things get rather complicated, and I do wish I had some sort of pie chart or slideshow to make it all easier.” He gazed around, looking for paper or something to draw on.
I snapped my fingers twice in rapid succession.
Glen cocked his head and looked at me.
“Ah well. My heaven. I was thinking maybe I could make things appear.”
Glen chuckled before winking at me and snapping his own fingers. There was a cracking noise and a large box came crashing through the ceiling, leaving a hole in its wake. I coughed as the dust and debris settled around us.
“Sorry. Another thing I didn’t quite have time to finish.” A funny noise emerged from Glen’s throat, and it took me a moment to realize that he was crying.
“What’s wrong?” I reached into my pocket, pulling out a Kleenex that I knew would be there.
I placed it on his knee and we sat in silence for quite some time. The candle continued to flicker as the world, a million miles away, continued to move on without me in it. If it was just a normal day, I thought, Sam would be making sure all of the books were pushed onto their shelves at the local bookstore he managed.
Chances were that it wasn’t a normal day. Word was probably spreading that I was dead.
“I’m dead just like you, you know.” Glen broke the silence. I wondered how many times Glen had previously saved me from death. “We will need to discuss the next step at some point.” A formality that I wasn’t sure I was ready for. I had already assumed that whatever came next would not be as comforting as this.
“Hey.” A sudden thought crossed my mind. “Did you save my life the day we met?”
“No, not really,” Glen said, leaning back in his pew with a half-smile on his face as if he was recalling fond memories. “It’s actually harder than you think to predict what’s going to kill you and what will just turn out to be a slight mishap. If humans knew just how close they were to death at all hours of every day, they’d never leave their houses.” Glen stopped to give a chuckle. “Granted, there’s things in your home too that will kill you. We had a lady killed by a falling house plant.”
“Was that you when that giant wooden prop almost fell on me during musical practice sophomore year?” I asked suddenly.
Glen shook his head. “High school was before my time. You’ve had several people before me.”
“What happens to them?” I asked quietly. After nearly an hour straight of talking to Glen, I was beginning to learn that there were questions he could and could not answer.
“Their job ends,” Glen sighed. “One way or another.” He didn’t elaborate.
My legs were starting to cramp up. I swung them down from the pew and bumped into the box that had come crashing through the ceiling.
“Oh!” Glen exclaimed as if suddenly remembering. “That’s where that went.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, seeing as how the box was actually so large that it nearly obstructed our view of each other.
Glen slid his hands up and down the sides, which were covered in a sparkly pale blue wrapping paper. Something told me that it held more than just the paper Glen snapped his fingers for initially.
“Do you feel ready?” Glen didn’t meet my gaze. I think deep down he knew that if he did, he would find out that I was definitely not ready. “Because this is where I leave you, unfortunately.” Glen bowed his head. “You know all that I know. In this box, you will find what you need for the next step in your journey.”
“Wait.” I reached out suddenly, grabbing hold of Glen’s hand. I felt a tear slide down my cheek. “Will I see you again?”
Glen reached up, wiping away my tear with his thumb. “That I can’t tell you.”
“How long do I have until I have to go to the next part?” I began peeling at a small corner of the paper on the box as I tried to stall time, getting every extra minute in with Glen that I could.
“However long it takes until you feel you're ready.” Glen stood up. Burt appeared at his feet and Glen bent down to scratch him on the back.
“Is it weird scratching your brother like that?”
Glen's eyes twinkled in a playful manner. “Growing up, he always begged Mom for back scratches.”
I had so many more questions, but was unsure of how to formulate them. “What happens to you next?”
“That’s not for you to worry about,” Glen answered matter-of-factly. I had half expected some strange glowing portal to open up and suck him through. I was disappointed when I saw that he was heading back towards the door we came through.
“You take care of yourself.” His hand was on the heavy wooden handle of the church door. “For what it’s worth,” he yelled as if someone above could hea
r. “I think you’d make a great protector, and I’ll put in a good word for you.”
I didn’t know what that meant, and I didn’t have time to ask. Glen disappeared with one final wink.
The sky beyond the stained glass windows was darkening once more. I put my head down in my lap and cried. I wasn’t sure how long exactly I stayed there, eventually dozing off for a short period of time.
I would have slept longer except that something warm and purring curled itself around my feet.
“Hi, Burt.” I sat up so that I could scratch his ears. It still weirded me out, but, mechanic or not, Burt seemed to really enjoy ear scratches.
“I knew there was something off about your shop,” I said to him, not knowing if the cat version of Burt could understand a thing I was saying. The way he gazed intently at me led me to believe that he could. “Too many Diet Coke cans in the vending machine, and not enough magazines from modern times.”
Burt seemed content as he gingerly rested his chin on my leg and closed his eyes. I laid back down on the hard pew, which surprisingly felt more like a bed than like a chunk of wood. It must have been another weird manifestation in my heaven. I wondered what else I could conjure up. A closet full of new clothes? A unicorn? Cheese fries? Although eating definitely seemed like the last thing I wanted to do at this moment.
I stretched my arms above me. I knew I should get up and get some of the blood flowing again. Did I even have blood? I let my arms fall down and my right arm made contact with something wet, gooey, and warm. I lifted my arm to inspect what it was. My forearm was covered in what appeared to be nacho cheese and sour cream. Next to my hip, there was a plate full of cheese fries, reminiscent of the ones we used to make during family movie nights.
I felt a lump rise once again in my throat as I thought of how I’d never again get to do that with my family or my future family. I wondered if my family had been told of my death yet or if they were still leaning over my body in a hospital bed, clinging to hope that I’d open my eyes, smile, give my signature Dylan snort, and tell them that everything was going to be A-Okay. My mind also wandered to Sam. How was he taking the news, considering we had been fighting? Would he think it was his fault? I wished I could see him. I wanted him to see who Burt really was.
If Heaven Had Cheese Fries Page 5
