Endless

by S. B. Niccum

  “You’re back! And you look much better I might add. You’re real, right, or did I think you up?” The haggard looking man with the long hair and the long beard, which I had met on my last stay in Spirit Prison, approaches me. In the distance I see a bubble—his, I presume. I wonder why he’s out of it?

  “I’m real, and yes, I’m back. Is that your bubble over there?”

  He turns and looks behind him, then suddenly the bubble speeds up to meet up with us. I wince, not wanting to get stuck in a bubble at all. “Yes, that’s my imaginary home. It is as it’s always been, remember?” He turns and looks at me with eagerness. “We’ve been hoping to see something, a way out, or a light, or something that would help us get out. We think we’re ready to leave.” He looks down, and stroking his beard, he smiles. “Well, as ready as we’ll ever be while we’re here.”

  “Who’s we?” I ask and peer inside his bubble. There’s the distinct possibility that he’s made up a friend and he thinks that he’s not alone. But his bubble is as I remember it—the fire, the high back chairs, and the mirror. All is intact, and there’s no one inside.

  “Oh, I met a lass,” he says, his Irish accent in full swing—and that’s when it dawns on me.

  “What’s your name?” I ask curiously.

  “Henry,” he responds without guile. “What’s yours?”

  “Tess.” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. This guy is Henry! The Henry! It all makes sense, the accent, what he said last time I was here about his wife not risking her eternal salvation for him. How he had been a jerk his whole life, how I found my way to him, when I wanted to be in a familiar place.

  “Tess? Now why does that name ring a bell?” He muses, stroking his beard again. “Oh yes! My friend! Oh…” His eyes open wide and he realizes something. “Oh…” he groans again and starts pacing. “Well, I see how this might be a problem now.”

  “What? What’s a problem? What are you talking about? Who’s your friend?”

  “Me.” Eugenia floats up to us, looking steadily at me, like she’s not sure whether she should be here or not.

  A grin crosses my face and I shake my head. “Henry, I don’t think you should trust this one. She’s—she’s—”

  “She’s made a lot of big mistakes. Like me.” He says simply, looking steadily in my eyes. “You’re probably only talking to me right now because you don’t know what I’ve done. If you knew, you might not be so sure.”

  He’s right. I have no problems with him because I don’t know anything about the guy, other than he’s Alex’s great-grandfather. Yet he’s the one who is holding back everyone else’s progression back in Paradise. Still, he didn’t kill anyone that I know of. “Henry,” I say with a sigh. “I’m here looking for your great-grandson. He is dead because of—”

  “Me,” Eugenia owns up to it with a steady voice. “He knows. Well he didn’t know it was his grandson. I didn’t know they were related until now.”

  Henry comes to Eugenia’s side and puts his arm around her shoulder. Somehow he has been able to look past the burns, the scabs, the patches of scorched hair, and has accepted Eugenia for who she is. “We are ready to leave,” he states. “Will you help us?”

  His words remind me of my promise to the High Council, that I would bring back anyone who crossed my path. But surely, they didn’t mean Eugenia! She—she’s the one who started all of this! “I will forgive whom I will forgive,” the words fall into my head as if they were raindrops. I nod in reply to the silent reproof. But I can’t help feeling a bit mad about this, like I’ve been tricked into doing something I didn’t want to do.

  “I am sorry for my part in Alex’s death,” Eugenia bites the words out, like they’re painful to utter. “I never intended to hurt him.”

  “No, you intended to hurt me,” I correct.

  She clenches her jaw and does not contradict me. “I don’t want to be that person anymore,” she admits, after a long, uncomfortable silence.

  Suddenly I realize that my promise to the High Council could mean that I bring a whole lot of people back with me. This makes me feel disheartened, because somehow, in my mind, I had envisioned getting Alex and maybe a few more spirits, then getting out. Now I see that this would not be as easy as that.

  “Listen, Tess, for the record I still don’t like you either,” Eugenia says blankly. “But I am sorry for my part in all of this. I know it probably doesn’t make any sense to you, but just to prove to you that I’m sincere, I’ll show you where he is.” I realize what a grand gesture this is coming from her. I can read her intentions, and she’s not being devious, nor is she trying to pull anything. For once, Eugenia is being unselfish, in her own way.

  I agree to follow her, and when we reach the outside of Alex’s bubble, I hover above it, looking down before entering. He is back in that prison cell in Mexico where I found him, all those years ago while still alive. Little did I know then, that busting Alex out of prison would be a recurring event for us.

  “Was he a soldier?” Henry asks.

  “He was imprisoned by some Central American guerilla fighters,” I explain.

  “No. It was Eros, Agatha’s husband. He was going to sell them to Middle Eastern terrorists.”

  I look at her stunned.

  “Agatha told me,” she says in a subdued voice.

  I feel anger creeping in, and I can see my light starting to dim.

  “Don’t upset her!” Henry croaks. “She’s our only way out of here!”

  “Sorry, I was just…telling the truth,” she whispers the last few words and lets them dissolve in the darkness where they belong.

  “Think happy thoughts, Tess,” Henry encourages.

  “Wait here,” I tell him and dive down into Alex’s bubble before it’s too late and I lose my temper altogether, or my nerve, or both.

  Alex looks up; he has the same expression he did when I found him all those years ago in the real cell back in Mexico. He looks like he’s just seen a ghost. Only this time, I really am a ghost. He blinks and shields his eyes from my light; apparently it’s still bright enough to blind him temporarily.

  “Alex, it’s me.”

  He winces. The light seems to be too much for him. I crouch down next to him so that I’m eye level with him and cup his face. He recoils as if I were toxic to him. I try to link with him, to prove to him that I’m real, but he’s blocked me out. No, don’t let it be too late! “Alex? Come on, let’s get out of here. It’s me, Tess—I’m real,” I tell him, but I can tell that he’s still upset with me. His aura is totally changed, I barely recognize it at all. I can’t believe the High Council thought he wasn’t ready—he’s past being ready—he’s lost.

  “Please believe me,” I beg. He looks up and focuses on something behind me. I turn and realize that he’s looking at Eugenia and Henry, who did not heed my advice.

  “What are they doing here?”

  “They want to leave Spirit Prison too, and they’re coming with us.”

  “Eugenia?”

  At the mention of her name, she looks down, embarrassed at her appearance.

  “Yes, Eugenia is coming with us, and Henry, your great-

  grandfather.”

  Alex stares at the man. No doubt he’s remembering what the Admiral had told him about Henry. I wish I knew for sure, but he’s still blocking me so I don’t know what he’s thinking. “Does Russell know about this?”

  “He does. Come on.” I lift him up by one arm, but he doesn’t budge. He’s like a sack of potatoes. I’ve never seen him like this—irresolute, negative, jaded—it’s like someone replaced the Alex I know with some empty puppet. I try not to let this growing feeling of dread get hold of me. I need to finish this. I need to get him and these spirits out of here and back to Paradise before my own light dims and I can’t find my way back. Otherwise, we’ll all be stuck here—again.

  “Alex?” Eugenia looks up timidly. Alex frowns and looks back at her, not showing any surprise at her appearance in the leas
t. “I—I’m responsible for you being here,” she pauses and fidgets with her hands. I can’t believe it, but she looks genuinely remorseful and tormented. “I’m trying to set things right. I want to be the person I should have been, and I can’t do that unless I know that you are safe. I know it sounds selfish of me, but if you stay, I can’t move forward.”

  I’m about to snort a derisive reply, but Alex’s reaction stops me, catching me by surprise. He believes her! He actually responds to her plea and slowly nods his head, and starts to get up. How is this possible?

  Looking from one to the other, I check and double check to make sure I’m getting this right. Eugenia is actually convincing Alex to leave Prison. He’s showing emotion to her when he showed none to me. Astounded, I watch as his aura is changing from a dogged determination to stay put, to a conceding nod of forgiveness and, and, something else. He’s feeling something for her that he didn’t feel before. I try to discern better what that feeling is, but my own emotions are getting in the way, I’m stumbling on them, like I would on huge boulders. One thing is clear, though, he’s willing to leave Prison and forgive Eugenia, but not me.

  Straightening up, he dissolves his bubble and moves forward on his own accord, leaving me standing alone, in the darkness. “Okay then,” he says, and eyes Henry dubiously. “I can see where my mother got her eyes,” he adds as he brushes past Henry.

  Openmouthed and dumbfounded, I hover in the same spot, watching as the love of my life rejects and ignores me completely. “Well, I thought we were leaving,” Alex says, without turning to look at me. This is like a slap to the face. I don’t know what just happened, but it feels like a nightmare.

  Still stunned, I move, but I feel suddenly lost. I’m not quite sure which way to go.

  “I want to come too,” a voice says behind me. Turning, I see the boy who I encountered my first time here. He’s the one who kept driving off the cliff. Now, he’s hovering a distance away, with his hands in his pockets, looking spent. “You’re taking them out, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.” Seeing him makes me happy, and brightens my spirit. I hated not being able to help him the first time around. “This way, stay close to me,” I say, regaining my sense of purpose. I came here to get Alex at all costs, and to bring with me anyone who wanted to come, and that is what I’m doing, I tell myself. A soul is a soul, and we’re all important. Still, it gnaws at me that Eugenia was the one who convinced Alex to come, but who cares? He’s coming and that’s what counts.

  Before we move too far, five or six more spirits ask to join us, then ten or so more. Before we clear the darkness, several more spirits join us. I sigh with relief once we cross into the blinding light. Once our sight adjusts to the brightness, we see a throng of spirits looking at us expectantly. They have all come to welcome those who have come out with me. There’s rejoicing the minute they see their loved one and stampede forward to greet them. Alex gets a warm reception from his family, but he hardly seems to notice them or care about their reception. Eugenia too, is busy with her family, but keeps taking nervous looks toward Alex. Henry gets a formal hug from his ex-wife, Estelle, and a shake of the hand from her new suitor. There are others whom I don’t know greeting him, and Henry looks genuinely happy to see them. Yet he now and then looks longingly after Russell who left earth momentarily, to greet Alex. Valerie is here also, and both of them seem to be intent on ignoring Henry to the point of being rude.

  Alex is still sullen and doesn’t look particularly emotional about the reunion. Valerie gives me that look, the look that I always dread from her, the one that says—I’ve seen this in a vision and it’s not good. I simply shrug, but a bitter chill permeates my soul. I wasn’t made to be ignored by Alex, my essence does not accept it.

  We’re all walking on eggshells around Alex. No one is sure of what to say or do. Reluctantly, he follows us as we take him on a tour of Paradise. Most of these scenes are new to me, since I haven’t had much time to explore. Alex looks around disinterestedly. I think that part of him still wonders if he’s imagining all of this. I ask him this in confidence, but he just looks back at me with that same masked face and doesn’t answer. Hurt and stung, I look away, trying to keep the fact that I want to scream hidden from the rest.

  After the others show us the highlights of Spirit Paradise they leave us, instinctively sensing that we need time alone. I fly us to a familiar spot, the Heavenly replica of the dock of Cielo Celeste, where we spent our honeymoon. We sit there in silence, dangling our feet over the edge of the dock, technically getting them wet with the spiritual water, but not feeling any of it. The heavenly version of Cielo Celeste is nothing like the real place back on Earth. Here, everything looks pristine and paradisiacal. The St. Augustine grass is lush, thick, and vibrant green. The tall oaks look stately and grand, the Palos Borrachos trees that line the riverbank look equally round and heavy, but the spikes on their trunks look less intimidating than I remember them. Their seedpods are open and their fluffy cottony interior is flying all around us, making it look like it’s snowing in spring. It’s beautiful, but I can’t enjoy it.

  “I wish I could feel the water,” I say, breaking the long silence.

  He doesn’t respond. There’s a chasm between us and I don’t know how to bridge it, or what to do about it. He’s said maybe two words since he’s been in Paradise, and none of them to me. Inwardly, he’s also closed up like a clam, and I can’t link with him at all. All I can do is read his new aura that tells me one thing—the Alex I know is gone.

  “You know, the first time I went to Prison to get you, I saw Agatha. She threatened that if I didn’t help her, she would unleash some spirits she called the—”

  “Hellhounds, I know.”

  I pause. “Yes, the Hellhounds. She promised me that you’d be safe as long as I did what she asked.”

  Alex gets up and glides away, effectively ending the conversation. I follow him, hopeful that perhaps we can still talk about this on the move.

  “I know you saw me leave,” I say as I try to catch up to him. “I’m sorry that you thought I was leaving you. I wasn’t! I was pulled in! Or out, or—” I say shrilly, but get all tongue-tied for some reason and can’t seem to be able to explain myself properly. “Believe it or not I did all that for you.”

  “Believe it or not, I’m not interested in your platitudes.”

  “W—what?” I shake my head. How is it that this conversation is going so sideways on me?

  “Look, I don’t feel like dredging up the things that happened there, so stop trying to psychoanalyze things,” he states with a tone of finality in his voice, like he’s done talking, yet he’s only said two dozen words.

  “But we have to talk about this. You have to hear my side of the story!”

  “What’s there to hear or talk about? I died for you, I went to Hell for you, you left me there with the Hellhounds, end of story.”

  “I’m sorry, but he has to ask.”

  “But he won’t talk to anyone! Not to me, not to Russell, no one! Instead he’s been spending all his time with Henry and Eugenia, who he hated in life. He needs some sort of intervention.” I plead.

  “You were told that he wasn’t ready, remember?” Drymus has an infuriating way of pointing out the obvious.

  “He was tortured by Hellhounds and you know better than anyone what he’s going through. You told me that when Kerubiel saved you from Spirit Prison, you felt out of place in Paradise.”

  “Yes, but I also wanted to leave Prison, it was my choice. And it was my choice to Open.”

  I’m flying myself in circles, both in actuality and emotionally. I can’t think straight, I can’t see straight, all I know is that after all this work, after all my efforts and all we’ve been through, I’ve lost Alex just as we finally made it to Heaven. It makes no sense, I don’t want to admit it, but I’m secretly starting to harbor resentment toward the Eternals now. I’m Open, so people can see this in me, and keep giving me the stink eye for feeling th
is way. I have no one to confide in or talk to about this because everyone has their own deals that they’re working on. Celeste is mixed up in a dramatic affair involving her late husband Max and her second husband Ricardo, and it’s something right out of a soap opera. Valerie, Dane, Russell, Katie, and now Robyn are all busy trying to fulfill their angelic duties or Open. Dorian has already taken time off from his busy angelic schedule to listen and give me his advice, and I feel bad pulling him out one more time, just so he can listen to me gripe—again. And Alex…he’s lost in a miasma of his own making. Nothing he says or does makes sense to me. It’s like we speak a different language now. All he wants to do is hang around Eugenia and Henry. Does he know that Eugenia was the one who hired a killer to kill me, then missed and killed him instead? Yes. He knows this. Does he know that Henry abused his great-grandmother Estelle and never tried to contact them after Russell was born? Yes. He knows this too. Does he care? No.

  I wish I could cry—have a good long cry—and get it all out. I would rather endure Agatha’s physical torture over and over again, than this. Being physically separated from Alex when he died was hard enough. Being spiritually separated from him while he was in Prison and I in Paradise was awful. But to be purposely ignored by him, it’s—it’s harrowing, unbearable, and simply heart-rending! Oh, how I would like to wail and scream! But I’m in Heaven, and there are no tears in Heaven. Sure, people struggle still and they have to deal with hard things. Dealing with all your unfinished life problems is not easy. If it were we would have dealt with them in life.

  One thing has become clear to me. It’s harder to deal with life problems here, in the realm of the dead, than it is while alive. The reason, I think, is because you can’t change any of it now. You can’t go back to life and say: “I’ll make that up to you now.” Cravings don’t just fade, they stay in your head, telling you that you still need whatever it is you crave. No eye for an eye, no tooth for a tooth. Harm can’t be undone, or paid for in any form of sacrifice. Physical comfort can’t be given, tears can’t be shed, kisses can’t be given—life is over.