by H. M. Jones
A small Abigail held a tiny crying infant away from her body, her hands shaking. The expression on the face of the miniature Abigail appalled her: rage. A little Jason walked into the scene and took the crying baby without a word. But his face said everything. In that moment he did not love Abigail; he did not like her. The look he gave her could easily even be construed as hateful.
Tears ran down Abigail’s face as the scene changed. She felt, again, the full weight of her worthlessness as a mother and wife. She remembered the oppressive depression she felt and why it was so strong. Her chest felt split open and turned inside out, exposing her most tainted truths. She was where she deserved to be. This place might be terrifying, ugly, and hateful, but so was she.
The boss glowered as a different image formed in his palms. “Real life is so much more challenging. Always failing people you love, like you do with your baby and husband. Always losing what is most dear to you.” Now fully formed, she could see it was the image she’d fought against the first time she encountered the boss.
She tried to close her eyes, but her lids wouldn’t cooperate. She tried to shift away from it, but her muscles were stuck in place. She figured it was because she was composed of depression, addiction, and anger. Like a Roamer, she was a part of what made Monochrome, and it controlled her now. Since she was forced to experience the test, she was resolved to do so bravely. She set her jaw and stared at the image defiantly. The memory grew before her until it was life-sized:
Robert met her at the hospital room door and grabbed her hand. His eyes were red-rimmed and desperately sad. This scared Abigail. Robert never showed any emotion apart from mild happiness or frustration.
“I’m sorry, Abby. I didn’t know how to tell you over the phone.” He ushered her and Julie into the hospital room. Her mother, step-mother and sister parted for she and Julie, who were the last to arrive. Julie saw their father attached to several life-extending, beeping machines, his chest lifting and falling mechanically.
Julie screamed and sank to her knees. “No! Daddy!” She was like a broken three-year-old. She couldn’t go to the bed where her father was breathing his last.
The nurse patted Julie on the back. “He still may be able to hear you, honey. You can talk to him if you want.”
She shook her head, covered her face, and ran from the room, sobbing. Abigail wandered why she didn’t do the same, but she stood firm. Robert went out after Julie, patting Abigail’s hand as he left. Abigail saw this all in her peripheral, but felt none of it.
She was concentrating on the broken man, mouth open, eyes vacant, breathing but not living. His lungs expelled air, ragged and wheezing. This was not the father she left yesterday. He was sitting up, watching football on the too-small hospital flat screen. Who was that drawn apparition? Her body crossed the room of its own accord. She ended up by the bed, unsure of where to put her hands. Should she touch this being who was and wasn’t her daddy? She put her hand tentative soft on his, and felt herself combust in pain. She wondered if it was the soul that made the blood run warm. He was so cold. Her family counting on her, so she wore the placid face of a saint.
Gracie, her little sister, was crying and muttering reassuringly to their father, holding his other chilled palm. Abigail reached out her hand to Gracie, whose warm fingers entwined with her own. It was a stark contrast, her sister’s pulsing life on one hand and her father’s departure on the other.
The nurse walked up to Abigail. “We can keep him on life support, but he experienced a hemorrhage in his brain this morning. I’m very sorry. Anything we do will only postpone the inevitable. Your family said it was your decision.”
She shook her head, knowing the answer without thinking. “No. He wouldn’t want to live like this.”
She felt the person talking to the nurse was someone else, but she agreed with that person. He would want to go home. His real home. He treasured his ability to think. Without it, he would not be him.
She choked out the cliché, “Just make him comfortable.”
The nurse nodded. “He might go on for days like this. They usually live for a few days. It’ll be hard to watch.” Abigail dismissed the nurse with her eyes.
She noticed her mother holding her step-mother, both of them crying for the man they loved. She realized neither of them should sit here, watching him slowly die, for days. Her eyes fixed upon the shell of her father, her heart vacant and her voice steady.
“Go home, Dad. We’ll be okay. You can go now.” She knew he heard her. He’d taken a break from the shell that could not encompass him, stepped out and was hoping for someone to tell him it was okay to leave. He was listening to them, waiting to make sure she would handle things. He knew her best, and he understood her strength, helping others in their pain.
“Let’s pray for him, Gracie.” She knew her sister was waiting for her to say that very thing. Gracie was born Abigail’s shadow, and even though she’d become her own person, their connection remained.
Abigail tightened her grasp on her father and sister’s hand. “Dear Lord, thank-you for our father. We loved him very much during his time here, but we don’t want him to suffer. Please, take him home. He is Yours.” Abigail wanted to be more eloquent, but she knew God knew the guttural babble of grief unheard, the anguish and love she’d never craft into words.
Her sister whispered, “Amen.”
The rasping stopped, the wheezing stopped, the rising and falling stopped. Instantly. Even though Abigail believed her prayer would be heard and answered, the quickness with which he gave up his body surprised her. He seemed so firmly attached to this world. Gracie’s eyes grew wide as the thin, terrifying “Beeeeeeep!” of her father’s lifeline shouted his exit from their world.
Abigail felt her father turn from this life. She felt his relaxed peace, his confidence that she’d be fine. She pulled the white sheet over his body’s staring eyes. No matter what, she’d always remember him like this.
And she did. She often relived that lifeless stare when she closed her eyes to sleep. “Your father wasn’t there for you a lot, was he? Then, just as you’re getting to know him…he’s gone. How very sad.” The boss’ voice snatched the image from in front of her. Abigail knew he was trying to play at her deepest regrets.
It was true her father wasn’t present as much as she would’ve liked, but he loved her and supported her in everything. And they were there for each other, in the end. She realized he must’ve been afraid, like she was. Afraid to let his family down, to be a bad father. He wasn’t patient with them when they were little. Not like Lee.
He was afraid to be a father, like she was afraid to be a mother. Fear did crazy things to people, she realized. It could make them distant, like her father. It could make them angry, like her.
“I had and still have many good people in my life. My father was one of them.”
The boss frowned. “If you stay, though, you may be able to earn the memories of your father back. If you leave, they belong to me. Substantial memories are important enough to fight for, Abigail. Especially since you can’t get him back. Do you really want to abandon those memories?”
She shook her head. “You’re right. I’ll never get a chance to make memories like the ones you took, but, still, I think I should thank you.”
The boss glared. “Thank me? And why is that?”
“I’ve been trying to forget that particular memory for a very long time. Unsuccessfully. It’s not easy watching your father die. The way he looked, sounded, how broken my family was…I was consumed by the ugliness of it all. So I opted to not think about him.”
She faced him full-on, spine straight. “Because I refused to remember that memory, I forgot something very important about my father.”
The boss’ power over her was fading; his face took on a blurry aspect. He was no longer Ian, just a fuzzy copy of a man who meant nothing to her.
“And what’s that?” His voice was a sneer.
Abigail thought for a second b
efore answering. “In life, he suffered. He died too young. He wanted to see us more, but you can’t make up for lost time. He died just when he realized how much he wanted his children around.”
Tears sat in her eyes but didn’t fall. “You saw me praying for him to die. That was the worst thing I’ve ever prayed for, but it was also the most immediately satisfying. The moment my prayer ended, I felt my father, my true father, leave me. And he was free. Not sick, not scared. It was exactly as it was supposed to be. Not forced, like what I thought about doing. Just free.”
She breathed deeply. It felt as though she were breathing for the first time in a long time. She caught the scent of star gazer lilies. Her dad used to have a large flowering lily bush just outside the window of his living room. She used to sit on the couch, near the open window and inhale the thick honey scent. The smell was like new life.
She continued, “He wasn’t perfect. He failed me sometimes. But despite his imperfection, he’s still free. I forgot it’s okay not to be perfect or even capable sometimes. I don’t have to be afraid of failure because I’m not alone. I can make mistakes, and I can try harder and ask for help for things beyond me. I don’t have to do it on my own. I can’t believe how easy it was to forget that.” As she said those words, her weariness lifted.
She stood tall and strong. “I’m going home now. You can’t keep me here. I don’t belong to you.”
The boss grimaced and clenched his teeth. “Does forgiveness mean it’s okay to go home and destroy those who love you?”
She stepped towards him, and he backed away in fear. “Those who love me?”
Abigail closed her eyes. She pictured a memory of her and her little sister, Gracie, cutting out paper hats. Gracie put her hat on her head, and, with chubby words, said, “See, Abby, jus’ like your hat!” She caught the memory in her hand and held it out.
Gracie jumped from her hand and danced around her. The boss backed away from the purple-tinged, dancing Gracie.
Another image, Abigail sitting with Julie at the park, watching her niece and nephew play, came to her next. Julie glowed and put a loving hand on Abigail’s pregnant belly. “I can’t wait for them to play together.” Julie’s image shot from her in a blue spark.
A yellow image of her, Robert, and Lee putting the last nails in their very own tree fort came to her next. Lee beamed at the work they completed. “Good job, guys. It looks so good I might just move in.” She and Robert laughed and gazed around them in awe. The image joined the other circling memories.
Abigail’s mother put her head on her shoulder. They watched the sunset from her back porch. Her mother was holding a sleeping Ruby and stroking her little face. “I’m so proud of you, Abby.” She looked at her mother and saw the pride she would someday have for Ruby in those brown orbs. In no time, she’d be watching the sunset with Ruby, holding her grandbaby.
Her mother’s memory, yellow and brilliant, joined Gracie and Julie, Robert and Lee. Then, an image of Jason, holding her leg as she pushed. His face was pure joy. He whispered fervent encouragement, “We’re almost parents, babe. You can do this. I know you can.”
She thrust their baby into the world. Jason received the crying, little purple-red being with shaking hands. The image showed a blinding gold.
The last memory to leave her was a gold-rimmed image of her grandfather, holding his hands over hers, which were covering her mouth. He dipped her into the baptismal and said in his booming preacher voice, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” He brought her up, soaking wet, smiling joyfully, feeling, for the first time ever, complete.
The memories circled Abigail in a brilliant blur. The boss slunk away from them as if they were poison. She walked towards him. “Thank you for reminding me. I am loved. I am blessed. And I am done here.”
The boss backed away from her, a mixture of defeat and fear. “Come, Eric. We are done too.” His voice was full of disappointment.
Eric walked past Abigail, giving her a wide berth. He wasn’t afraid of her physical presence, but whatever was happening now confused and scared him.
She made a shooing motion with her hand, and he retreated, pocketing his knife. A gleaming light caught the corner of her vision. She gasped. Her memories came back to her and lit her skin a vibrant gold. She contained all the strength of the sun.
She turned her hands over, examining their luster. A power not her own encompassed her. She spoke with control. “Leave us now. Him, too.” Eric made his way to Ishmael, but stepped away from him as she approached.
The boss grasped Eric’s shoulder, but he no longer looked like a copy of Ian. He was beautiful. His skin was flawless, his aspect carved by a master. He was a phenomenon of beauty but he chose to be ugliness personified. He grasped Eric’s shoulder, glared at Abigail and disappeared in a cloud of blue-black smoke.
Abigail heard Ishmael stir and saw him rise, unsteadily. She raced to his side and gave him her hand. He grasped her hand cautiously and dropped it as if shocked when he was steady enough to stand. “Abby, you’re glowing. What’s that about?”
“I know. Wild, huh?” She felt so alive, so unencumbered.
She grabbed his sleeve and dragged him to the arch. “Come on! I’m not staying here a minute longer.”
When she reached the thorny archway, it dimmed then shimmered, and parted to reveal the most beautiful garden she’d ever seen. She felt it was as lovely as Eden, but much more familiar. It was her garden. Her lilies were in full bloom, her flowering apple trees and her climbing berry bushes swayed in a gentle spring breeze.
Ishmael was still shrinking from her glowing form. “Let’s go, Ishmael. We can go now.”
His face was clouded in grief. “That’s not my home, Abby. The people waiting on the other end are not my family. I don’t have anyone waiting to greet me.”
He paused, swallowing back tears. “Here, I have people. They aren’t constant. They aren’t perfect, but they get me and I get them. I can’t have that with you. I’ve realized that for a while. It’s your turn to see it now. Go. Your life is waiting for you.” He sounded only a little bitter. Mostly he sounded relieved to know his decision. He stood planted to the ground.
He shook his arm from her grasp. “I belong here.”
Abigail felt the weight and seriousness of his words. “You aren’t a part of this place. I don’t believe it no matter what he said. You don’t have to stay here.”
A tear escaped Ishmael’s control. “Then I choose to.”
Abigail shook her head. She couldn’t just leave him here. She loved him, not like she loved Jason, but she loved him. If she left, he would fade into this terrible world, alone, never knowing he was her ray of light during her darkest hours.
Abigail glanced furtively back at her garden and noticed it dimming. The thorn bush was climbing back into place, its steely needles taking over. She looked at her hands and was terrified to see their luster fading. With sudden clarity, she knew just who she was. She was a wife. She was a child. She was a sister. She was a mother.
Ishmael grabbed her hand. “You have to go now, Abby. Don’t stay here trying to change my mind when it’s made up. Your home is waiting, and it’s beautiful.” His voice broke, but it was earnest.
“Ishmael, you said you would come. You can’t break your word. You promised not to hurt me again.” She leaned towards him, imploring.
Ishmael’s eyes were stony as he answered. “What? And be a fourth wheel? An accessory? You broke your promise, first. You said you’d go home without me if I got caught, when you didn’t intend to. Because you cared about me enough to tell me what I needed to hear at the time.”
His eyes stayed hard. “I want to have you around, Abigail, but I can’t have that there. I’m not going with you to watch your happiness from the outside. It’s not fair to me, to you, or to your family. I’m sorry. I told you what I did to keep you going. Because I care, too.”
He dropped his eyes and backed away from the arch.
She felt heavy and tired. She checked behind her and noticed her garden was almost invisible behind the sharp thorn bushes. She spun around and held her hands out to Ishmael, who took them. In the fading light, he almost merged with the blue scenery of Monochrome. If she waited until full night, she might not even be able to tell him apart from his surroundings. How many breaks can a soul withstand before it fades away?
Her breathing shaky and her heart labored, she spoke the only words she knew might convey the enormity of the loss she felt.
“A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.”
To his credit, Ishmael grinned tearfully at her choice of farewell. Abigail pulled him in for a hug, treasuring the feel of his rough cheek against hers, hoping the memory of his touch would heal, not haunt, her. He shifted his head towards her, meeting her lips in that brush of ritual, reminding her he could’ve been the happiness in one of her lives.
She pulled away from his embrace, still clinging to his hand as she ducked across the border. She released golden memories into his fingertips, as she let his hand drop. His eyes lost focus, but he remained standing, watching two of his favorite memories play in his head.
She smiled while her heart broke, her black eyes full of goodbye. The joy in his face was enough to make her step over the border. Maybe he would find his way home with the right inspiration. “Goodbye, Ishmael.”
His mouth moved in a goodbye Abigail did not hear as she squeezed through the shrinking opening in the brambles.
“To her may all things live, from pole to pole,
Their life the eddying of her living soul!
O simple spirit, guided from above,
Dear Lady! friend devoutest of my choice,
Thus mayest thou ever, evermore rejoice.”