“There’s no smell,” Nick said, coming up to her. “It doesn’t smell like Mickey D’s in here. And where are all the people? This is a sham. A fake McDonald’s.”
“Fake?” She pointed to the menu listed overhead. “What would you like? I’m getting some chicken McNuggets. And since you’re so hung up on fries—”
Frustration mounted on Nick’s face. “This is all wrong. There’s no one working here.” He gestured to the wrapped up burgers in silver trays then directed his finger at the fries sizzling in a vat of oil. Is this a self-serve McDonald’s? Is there even such a thing? Who made the food?”
She swung herself onto the countertop, spun around, and landed on the opposite side. “Welcome to McDonald’s. May I take your order, please?”
“You’re hilarious. Don’t you find this weird?” He turned around. “Hello. Is anyone here?” He walked around the corner but didn’t see anyone, so he returned to her.
She so enjoyed seeing Nick frustrated that she played to his mood by forcing a smile and remaining still, as though she was a robot. “Welcome to McDonald’s. May I take your order, please?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it. Hey, what’s with your smile?”
“Welcome to McDonald’s. May I take your order, please?”
“Oh, not you, too.” He closed his eyes then put both of his hands to his temples and rubbed them. “I’m going insane.”
“I’m kidding,” she said, disappointed to have unnerved him. She’d hoped to get a laugh or at least a smile. “It’s just…you seem to be having a difficult time accepting the truth.”
“What, that I’m dead? Give me a break. This can’t be heaven. It should be better than…this. I don’t belong in hell; I haven’t committed any sins or anything. Okay, I tried stealing something once, but I got caught so that’s not a sin because I had to give those candy bars back.”
“You tried stealing candy?” Nina picked up a brown plastic tray and removed a couple cheeseburgers and a large container of fries then set them down on the tray. She grabbed a plastic cup and pushed down on the white lever, which deposited his vanilla shake inside the cup. When she finished, she placed the cup on the tray, put a lid on top, and slid a straw through the lid opening. “There are so many cool things out there in the world, and you go for…candy? Wow, the Lord must be so disappointed – that you couldn’t commit a sin on a more valuable item. It’s sort of like giving him the middle finger, don’t you think?”
He chuckled.
“Imagine if you succeeded in getting away with stealing that candy. You’d graduate to even more disturbing crimes. I could just picture it: you wear a black ski mask and rush into a convenience store then aim your .357 Magnum into a clerk’s face. He’s shaking with fear and raises his hands high then says, ‘I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t kill me.’ And then you toss him a beige sack and say with a cold, deep voice: ‘Give me all of your Skittles and Butterfingers.”
Shaking his head and smiling, Nick unwrapped a cheeseburger and placed it under his nose. “So weird. There’s no smell.” He offered Nina a chance to take a whiff.
Although she didn’t need to sniff it to know that no scent emanated from the burger, she did anyway and nodded. “Nope. Give it a taste.”
Nick took a big bite and chewed. His expression turned bitter. He grabbed the wrapper, turned away from Nina, placed the food back into the wrapper, and dropped it into the wastebasket. “There’s no taste.” Glancing around the restaurant frantic with worry, he looked for…something. “I don’t believe this is happening. This is all wrong.”
“What’s wrong?”
He waved his arms. “This place. It’s fake. It doesn’t exist. It’s not real. My brain manufactured it.” He closed his eyes, clinching them tight. “It’s not real. It’s not.”
Moments later, he opened his eyes. And they stood in a grassy field outside the Hall of Wisdom. Happy people with smiles walked past him. He shook his head, disbelief lining his eyes. “I don’t know what’s happening.” He looked at Nina. “They’re not real. They’re not really here. It’s all just a dream. It’s fake.” But seeing that they didn’t disappear like the restaurant, he shut his eyes. “They’re just my imagination. They’re not really here. They’re just make believe.”
Nina felt for the ordeal he endured. But Nick only had himself to blame. He didn’t believe. And he would never see the truth until he did.
He opened his eyes to find happy travelers passing him by, nodding or waving at him with joyful expressions. “They’re not gone. What’s happening? I don’t understand. And don’t tell me we’re in heaven.”
She just stared at him. If he didn’t want the truth, she wouldn’t try to force it upon him. “Why is it so impossible to believe?”
“Really? You’re questioning why I don’t believe in God?”
“Yes, I am. Why don’t you believe we’re in heaven? Why don’t you believe in God?”
“Because he’s not real. People created his existence to explain everything: who made the universe? God did. Okay, then who made God? No one has an answer for that. Do you? Who made God?”
“That’s not for us to ask.”
“But I just did. And I want to know: who created God. How did he come into being? That’s a fair question.”
“God just is. He always is and always will be. He’s forever. He’s everything.”
“That’s not an answer. If he’s a being or an entity, he must have been created. How did it happen?”
“Only God can answer that question.”
Nick looked into the sky, and even though the sun didn’t exist, the light above made him squint before shutting his eyes completely. “I demand an answer.”
At those words, Nina backed up. She couldn’t believe anyone had the audacity to not only question the Lord’s existence but “demand” anything of Him. She knew the reason why no one could answer that question: God is perfect and untainted by mankind’s cruelty. Therefore, no soul could become as flawless as God. And because of His magnificence, which provides the ray of light above them, no person could see Him, because no one could look upon God as an equal.
Those walking along the pathway raised their eyes in shock at Nick’s words. They veered away from him, afraid of whatever response the Lord might grant in answer to Nick’s command.
“Why won’t you answer my question?” he asked. “How can I believe in you if you never give me a reason why I should?” He stood in place. Then he strapped his arms across his chest and hunched inward, as though a cool blast of air lashed against him. He clenched his teeth as his body quivered.
Nina, unaffected by the torrent of frigid air that surrounded Nick like a bubble, lowered her head, for the first time in memory feeling something other than complete happiness while on the Other Side.
The people walking past offered her sympathetic expressions as they passed by. “A non-believer,” one said. “I haven’t seen one here in…” She turned to her companion, a brunette in her twenties. “It’s rare, isn’t it?” They quickened their pace, as though frightened that Nick’s skepticism might be contagious.
Nick lowered his gaze to Nina. “What’s happening?”
Roland appeared beside his charge. “The Lord is simply showing you the coldness of your soul. It is a privilege to join Him. Yet you persist in questioning His existence.” He shook his head, disappointed. “Not your best moment, Nicholas.” He shielded his eyes and squinted as he raised his head and peeked through his fingers. “May I?”
The gust of air circling Nick must have vanished, because he no longer shivered as fiercely as before. “I…don’t understand.”
“You will,” said Roland in a grave tone. “You will.” Then he took Nick’s hand and they vanished.
Mei Lee manifested before Nina. “Nick has really shaken things up. But of course the Lord knows what He is doing, so I just hope your confidant discovers the reason he is here.”
Nina felt the same way. While every s
oul believed in the God and heaven, with all of the pain and duplicity on earth, the Almighty understood why those who had incarnated questioned His existence. And since Nick was stuck between both dimensions, God had surely taken this into consideration. Nina turned to her friend. “Something doesn’t feel right. Not about Nick. But about me. I don’t feel like I belong here.”
“But you’ve been here before.”
“I know, but this time feels different. It feels like I’m just visiting. I sense that I’m not supposed to stay. Something tells me that Nick and I are here for a reason. And that I’m supposed to help him. But I don’t know how or why.”
“You may not know, but, the Lord surely does. Let’s try to find out.” She placed an arm around Nina’s shoulders, and they vanished.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Oh, not again,” said Nick, once more standing in a dark room in front of the white screen. Since he expected Roland to teleport him elsewhere, he prepared himself for the journey, and this time, he didn’t feel the least bit dizzy after the trip. “What’s going on here? Why do I have to keep seeing all of the bad moments from my life? What’s the point?”
“Only you can answer that.”
“How did you do that with the cold air? If I wasn’t freezing, I would have thought that was pretty cool.”
“I can’t take credit for that. Only God can.”
Nick sighed. “Whatever.” He flicked a hand at the screen. “Let’s get this over with.”
The screen showed an image of Nick holding hands with a black-haired girl. The scene changed. He now linked hands with a blond girl, then a redhead, followed by a brunette. The images sped up, showing Nick hugging and kissing girls as he matured from 13 to 18, their faces and figures and ethnicities changing every few moments.
Then it showed Nick in more intimate moments, standing beside a bed, sifting his hand through bobbed blond hair as he said to a twenty year old woman, “I’m falling for you.” A beautiful smile came over her face. She entered his embrace, and he began unbuttoning her blouse. Then an Asian woman stood alongside the same bed as Nick stroked her cheek with a finger. “I think I love you,” he said before kissing her and removing her blouse.
Now a Hispanic woman lay on his bed. “I don’t think we should do this,” she said as Nick dipped his hand beneath her sweater. “It doesn’t feel right.” Nick stopped all movement then retracted his hand from under her sweater. “You don’t feel like we’re meant for each other?” he asked, his face falling with sadness. “How could I have been so stupid? I thought we were…special.” Her eyes sparkled and joy lit her face. “Oh, Nick.” She placed a hand against his cheek, turning his face to meet hers. “I just needed to hear you say we were important to each other.” Nick responded by slipping his hand beneath her sweater.
A slow montage rolled across the screen, showing Nick in bed with one woman after another, each time using phrases like “It feels like we’re meant to be;” “we were made for each other;” “this feels so right;” and “so this is what love feels like.”
“You’ve certainly loved many women, Nick.”
He didn’t respond. In fact, he hadn’t promised any of those women anything. He hadn’t even admitted his love. He only alluded to it. He wanted the momentary bliss that accompanied sharing those intimate interludes, he didn’t believe in love – not the emotion or even what it meant. It didn’t exist. Oh, he’d seen plenty of people tricking themselves into believing that they were in love, but he saw through their self-delusions. One need only look at all of the hardships that people suffered through, all of the hatred, all of the violence, all of the death. How could true love exist, let alone thrive, under these circumstances?
The vision on the screen now showed Nick standing in front of a blond woman. She slapped him. Then a European woman stood before him. She slapped him as well. A light-skinned black woman smacked him so hard his head spun sideways. Each of these women looked hurt, confused…betrayed. The images sped up, followed by countless smacking sounds accompanied by female voices: “you’re a liar;” “you have a rotten heart;” “I was stupid to trust you;” “don’t you have any feelings?” and “how can you live with yourself?”
The picture stopped. Roland shifted in place, looking at Nick. “Did you ever respond to those statements or questions?”
He shook his head. “I just let them go.”
“Why?”
“Because they wanted something I couldn’t give.”
“Your love?”
Nick didn’t need to answer: Roland had answered his own question.
“Have you ever loved anyone? Do you know what it feels like to lose someone you care about?”
The image of a wake appeared on the screen: Nick, wearing a black suit and red tie, walked up to a mahogany podium. Beautiful flowers filled two enormous vases on either side of him on a beige carpeted stage. A statue of Jesus crucified on a cross hung behind him. Nick looked out at over one hundred guests seated on hard wooden benches inside a church. Then he lowered his head. “My father was not a perfect man. He made mistakes. But he tried. He never stopped trying to be a good father. My mother…” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, hardening his expression. “She loved more than she was loved. It isn’t fair. But then life isn’t fair, now is it?”
Nick grasped hold of the podium, once more lowering his head. He took a few deep breaths then looked up again at the crowd. “The man that took their lives was drunk. And he decided to get in his car and go for a ride. He killed my parents. But I don’t blame him.” He scowled as he lifted his head to the ceiling: above him, in an ornate mural, angels floated through puffy clouds in a blue sky. “I blame you. You let that man get in his car and crash into them. You killed my parents. If you’re so powerful, you could have stopped him. But you let it happen anyway. Do you hear me up there? I blame you.”
The picture paused on the image of Nick glaring skyward.
“So when you’re not questioning God,” Roland said, “you’re blaming Him. But I have to ask: if you don’t believe in Him, why do you blame Him? If He doesn’t exist, are you just using the Lord as a scapegoat?”
Nick didn’t have an answer for that. It had never really occurred to him to ask that question. At the podium, he just needed to rage at someone, and standing in a house of worship, it seemed natural to accuse God of allowing his parents to die.
“And who did you blame for this?” Roland asked, gesturing toward the screen.
Nick staggered as he picked up a landline phone at a party and dialed. “Hey, bro,” he said slurring those two simple words. “I’m totally trashed. Could you pick me up?”
“Again?” asked the voice on the other end. “How many times is this? Twenty? Thirty? I miss Mom, too, but you don’t see me getting shitfaced all the time, do you?”
“Of course not. Not the good brother. Not the perfect son.”
Harold sighed into the phone. “Where are you?”
Nick relayed the address. “That’s a good brother,” he said in a condescending tone. He hung up and veered through a large family room toward the few dozen people dancing to the beat-thumping rap song, “The Way I Am” by Eminem.
He raised his hands above his head, shaking his body to the beat and joining a few girls who danced together, oblivious to their disgusted expressions. “Come on, ladies. Shake it. Ha-ha.”
They disbanded, leaving Nick alone and looking for a dancing partner. He wandered between couples, found a beer bottle, shook it and smiled. He pressed it to his lips and gulped it down. Then he tossed the bottle on a sofa beside two girls making out, who shouted curse words at him as he walked away.
The scene fast-forwarded, showing Nick doing a few more shots, and hitting on girls who winced each time he approached them. Then he made his way out of the house and down the porch steps and into the night. Wisps of cold air escaped his mouth as he watched Harold’s red Ford Mustang pull to a stop in the middle of the street.
The passenger do
or opened. His brother leaned over the other seat, waving at him.
“There’s my little brother, always doing the right thing.” Nick hobbled over, threw himself into the car, and slammed the door. “Hey, bro. Thanks for coming.”
With thick, disheveled blond hair, his seventeen-year old brother tightened his pale lips to keep from speaking. The circles around Harold’s eyes revealed that he had jumped out of bed to pick up his brother.
“What’s a matter?” Nick asked. “I’m thanking you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“My brother, Mr. Perfect – coming to the aid of his screwed up older brother. I bet you’ve inspired countless Hallmark cards.”
“Knock it off. You’re acting like a jackass. You’re better than this.”
“I don’t even have to look at you to know you’re lying. What I don’t get is why you care.”
“I don’t either.”
Nick’s smile widened. “See? Honesty. Hallelujah.”
His brother turned and grinned. Then bright lights shined through the windshield. A second later, a truck slammed head-on right into them. Through the smoke and blinking interior lights of the Mustang, both Nick and his brother sat unconscious.
The scene fast-forwarded then stopped as Nick jerked awake. He sucked in a heap of oxygen and opened his eyes, but the headlights blazing through the cracked but intact windshield made him squint. He pressed a palm to his head, wincing and groaning in pain. He rolled to his left to check on Harold. Both of his eyes were closed and he slumped forward, his face buried in a deployed air bag. Nick reached out with his left hand and patted his brother’s shoulder.
When Harold didn’t stir, Nick nudged him a little harder. “Wake up. We got into an accident.” He cringed with worry, his breath coming thick and heavy. “Harold, come on.” He unbuckled his seat belt and pressed a finger to his brother’s neck. “What the hell!” He shifted in his seat and inspected the other side of his brother’s throat.
Harold’s neck flopped to the side and sagged onto his shoulder, a sign that his neck was broken.
Just Like Heaven Page 5