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

by Jamie Hitchcock

  “We’ve been talking for hours. I’d hardly consider us strangers by now.” Softening his challenge, he added, “Besides, I’m an open book. Ask me whatever you want to know.”

  Amara gave in to her curiosity. There was definitely more she wanted to know. She accepted his offer with a coy shrug and took a step off the curb.

  It was a calm night, though the people bustling in and out of the shops and bars downtown always felt chaotic to her. She led Henry around the hotel toward the water. Across the street, the chaos subsided slightly, though they couldn’t escape the city lights that blinded all but the brightest stars in the sky.

  Beyond the sidewalk, they found a gravel path and followed it for a few hundred yards before crossing onto a small, rocky beach. It wasn’t a pretty beach. Piles of dead timber and wreckage scattered the shore. It was, however, the only water access within walking distance besides the boat ramp at the marina, which had already closed.

  Henry climbed onto the nearest log. He turned to offer his hand to Amara but found that she had already balanced herself on the log beside him. Carefully, they tightrope-walked their way through the maze of logs, weaving through the fallen forest. The timber dispersed as they neared the waterline, so they abandoned the logs and returned to the ground. The sand was heavy and wet underfoot, making their movements slow and exaggerated.

  Amara sniffed the cold, briny air.

  Henry bent to examine the fragmented shells at the tideline. He plucked a small rock from the sand, rounded by the waves but not quite smooth. As he stood, he tossed the rock casually into the shallows. A faint, phosphorescent circle radiated where the rock disturbed the water.

  “Bioluminescent algae,” Henry explained, noticing Amara’s surprised expression. “It’s much showier toward the end of summer, but they’re starting to grow now with the warmer weather.”

  “Amazing!” Amara exclaimed. She bent to get another rock. Over and over she tossed the rocks into the waves, admiring the small cylinders of blue-green light that illuminated the water as the pebbles sank.

  Eventually tiring of their exploits near the water, the two retreated to sit on a large, flat boulder above the tideline. The night was clear, darkened by the new moon.

  Henry placed his hand next to hers so that their fingers touched momentarily. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His ears stood out slightly too far so that even his shaggy curls couldn’t protect them from turning red in the cold.

  Amara took in the scene, thinking about the choices that led her to this moment. Had she gone to her philosophy class as planned, she never would have ended up here. She smiled and laughed to herself softly, pleased with the result of her uncharacteristic spontaneity. Her heart pumped rapidly to keep her blood moving against the chilly air, but at the same trying to steady the pace from her excitement. In a moment of confusion, her heart may have skipped a beat entirely.

  Amara thought about Henry’s previous invitation. “You can ask me anything,” he’d said. She decided to test that notion.

  “Do you believe in reincarnation?” she asked him abruptly.

  Caught off guard, Henry took a moment to collect his response. “Like karma?” he asked.

  “Maybe. I’m sure that’s part of it. But not like how they say, ‘If you are good in this life then you get to be better next time, like rich or something. Or if you’re bad, then maybe in your next life you’re a slug.’ Not like that. I guess what I’m asking is, do you think you’ve had lives before this one?”

  Henry pondered again before replying. “To be honest, I haven’t given it much thought. It makes sense that your actions would have consequences, but I don’t know how far that goes. Maybe I’ve had other lives before now. But I can’t remember them. Maybe we just live each life and die, and then we start all over. Matter can’t be destroyed or created, right? So maybe we just get recycled.”

  “But what would be the point of that?” Amara pressed. “There’s got to be something more than just recycling our matter. What if we are supposed to learn something?”

  “Then why can’t we remember other lives? Wouldn’t it make more sense to be able to remember our mistakes?” Henry challenged.

  Now it was Amara’s turn to ponder. “Maybe because we would get bogged down with all the details of who we were. We would lose sight of who we should be now. Maybe each life has a lesson that we are supposed to learn.”

  “Then what would your lesson be in this lifetime?” he asked quietly.

  Amara sat silently for a long while, matching her heartbeat to the rhythm of the waves. “Maybe it’s to learn how to love,” she guessed finally.

  Henry nodded acceptingly and slid his hand over hers, their fingers intertwining.

  *5*

  Saturday evening was turning out to be a clear, warm, night as everyone gathered near the T-shaped dock at Nathan’s house by the lake. Technically, it was his parent’s house, but he had grown up there and was still allowed access to the waterfront. He knew his parents liked to use this as an opportunity to monitor his antics, but he was willing to concede some of his freedom in exchange for a private beachfront hangout.

  Nathan ducked through the glass patio doors into the kitchen of his parents’ house in search of some extra beach towels. His mother, Sylvia, stood by the stove, closely watching a tea kettle for the first signs of a boil. She wrapped her cardigan closer around her wiry frame as a draft followed Nathan through the door.

  “Make sure you take some empty garbage bags out with you, too,” his mom instructed. “And please don’t let your friends stay too late tonight. I’d rather not be up all night with the noise. I’ve got an early morning volunteering tomorrow. And you know how your father gets when he doesn’t sleep.”

  Nathan nodded faintly. “We’ll try to keep it down.”

  He crossed through the kitchen and dipped into the guest bathroom down the hall. He retrieved a stack of towels from the closet. Then he reached under the sink and grabbed a couple garbage bags. On his way back through the kitchen, he raised the bounty in his arms to signal he’d heard his mother’s request.

  Sylvia nodded and smiled softly.

  “I’ll leave some blankets on the couch for you and Cece if you want to sleep here,” she offered offhandedly. “Might be better not to drive home in the dark. Do you have your key or should I leave door unlocked?”

  Nathan fought to refrain from being baited by the insinuation about his future reckless choices. He gripped the towels harder.

  “Thanks, Mom. I’ve got a key,” he replied shortly. “But Cece and I will probably head home together later.”

  “Just be safe,” Sylvia replied, snapping a quick eagle eye at Nathan over her shoulder.

  The kettle wailed suddenly, grabbing her gaze back the other direction.

  Nathan used this diversion to slip out the door before the conversation delved deeper into his mom’s many critiques of his character. He stepped out from the covered patio into the moonlight and wandered down the path to the beach.

  The house was a large, two-story modern home with light trim that sat on top of a hill above the lake. A stone path wound through the well-manicured landscape as it gradually sloped down to the beach. Kayaks and paddleboards sat in a storage rack by the dock. A ten-foot daysailer was parked on a dolly behind it. People clustered on the beach around an in-ground fire pit.

  Nathan dumped the towels and trash bags on the picnic table and dropped into a lawn chair by the fire pit. Cece settled on his lap and passed him a cold beer. She dangled her short, tan legs over the arm rest.

  “Hey, Newman, happy birthday!” Alex exclaimed as he joined the circle. He slapped Nathan’s hand, hard. “You still got any of my present left?” he asked, pinching his fingers in front of his lips.

  “Yeah, I still got some.” Nathan pulled a joint from his pocket and lit it. He took a long drag and then passed it to Alex.

  After Alex took his turn, he extended it to Cece. “Do you want any?” he offer
ed.

  “She can’t,” Nathan answered for her. He gave Alex a sly glance.

  Alex looked at Cece, who was rubbing her belly absentmindedly.

  “No shit,” said Alex loudly. His eyes grew wide with surprise. “You’re pregnant?”

  Cece smiled down at her stomach and nodded.

  The joint changed course back to Nathan. As he extended his left arm to receive it, Nathan exposed the base of a freshly inked tree trunk from under his sleeve.

  Alex caught sight of the tree.

  “You got some new ink, huh? Let me see.” He reached for Nathan's arm.

  Nathan unrolled the sleeve of his flannel to reveal a giant evergreen that traversed the length of his forearm. “It’s a redwood tree,” he said.

  He explained how he'd heard about a whole forest of them somewhere in California, some of them so large that cars could drive right through the base of their trunks. It must have taken thousands of years for them to grow that big, yet they still stood firm while hundreds of people motored through them every day. They must be strong and resilient.

  The tree wasn’t his first tattoo, but it was his first truly meaningful one. The rest were mostly nautically themed designs on his arms and chest, things that reminded him of sailing, which until now had been the only thing he really cared about. His favorite was a compass over his left chest that pointed slightly off from due north.

  “Looks cool. Something to mark the occasion, huh?” asked Alex. His tone grew more serious. “Really though, a baby is a big deal. Are you ready for it?”

  “Yeah, I guess I have to be,” Nathan replied, forcing a wide smile. He spread his open palm to rest on Cece’s knee.

  She nestled into his chest in return. They relaxed together like this for a while, enjoying the steady warmth of the bonfire. Every so often Cece rubbed her small hand over her bellybutton, feeling for any signs of life. Gently, she took Nathan’s hand and placed it on her belly under her own. She smiled at him proudly.

  He reciprocated with an affectionate kiss on her cheek, but he couldn’t feel anything. Should he be able to feel something by now? Tired of pretending, Nathan got up to retrieve a fresh drink from the cooler and mingle with his friends.

  After another beer, all he managed to feel was the warm tingling inside his belly and behind his eyes. His mind still raced with thoughts about Cece and their future life. Things he didn’t want to think about tonight. Numbers jumped in and out of his head. Twenty-two: the number of years he’d been alive; twelve: the number of weeks his unborn child had been growing in Cece; one: the number of rooms in his tiny studio apartment. The math wasn’t adding up, and it made his head spin.

  He pushed the numbers out of his mind and tried to occupy it instead by piously policing the partygoers around the water. Over the years, he had thrown many gatherings on the dock, all without incident. But tonight, for some reason, he took notice of all the reckless choices going on around him. A group of girls giggled and shrieked as they ran down the dock, stark naked, plunging into the frigid, black water. A couple tried to sneak off in a single-person kayak, without life vests.

  He watched as Alex drunkenly staggered down the ramp, stubbed his toe on a piling, and flopped clumsily down on the edge of the dock to nurse it. Had his friends always been this childish and dumb? Nathan couldn’t recall, but he had a nagging suspicion that they were. And what did that say about him?

  Sometime after midnight the party finally started to dwindle. Cece snuck tiredly inside his parents’ house and curled under a blanket on the couch. Most of his other friends piled into their cars and went home to collapse in the comfort of their own beds. The few who remained were sleeping in the chairs around him by the fire, nestled down under a towel or jacket.

  After dozing briefly in his lawn chair, Nathan woke up stiff and cold. He grabbed a towel from the picnic table and wrapped it around his shoulders. Barefoot, he walked to the end of the dock. The sky transitioned from midnight blue to a dusty gray, scattered with deep purple clouds. Songbirds flew from their roosts and began their morning serenade.

  Nathan sat down on the end of the dock to smoke a joint. His toes skimmed the surface of the cool lake, creating tiny ripples that radiated outward from the disturbance. Otherwise, the water was calm and glassy. Lights from the house reflected in warped streaks, reaching out across the dark shallows.

  He thought about his parents sleeping upstairs, undoubtedly annoyed with the extensive festivities last night. How had they reacted when they got pregnant with him? What would they think when he told them about Cece being pregnant? His antics in the last few hours definitely wouldn’t help to improve their confidence in him.

  A solid feeling slowly arose from the pit of his stomach, the first clear emotion he’d felt in days: shame. Nathan was ashamed of his choices, ashamed of his actions, ashamed of his indecision. It didn’t feel much better than his previous slurry of confusion.

  He took a deep breath and released it forcefully in a loud sigh. Taking one last hit from the joint, he exhaled leisurely this time, causing the smoke to swirl around his head. Then he tossed the rest of the joint in the lake.

  *6*

  In the two weeks since their first date, Amara spent nearly every waking minute thinking about Henry. This distraction, while exciting, also added a whole new level of frustration as she tried to push through her final week of exams.

  In the library, she tucked herself into a little corner desk on the top floor and pleaded with herself to focus on her textbooks, but every few minutes she found her eyes wandering out through the window to scan the people in the courtyard below. Her stomach fluttered whenever she spotted a flash of red, thinking it might be Henry’s auburn curls. It never was. Eventually, she forced her attention back down to her textbooks. Summer break could not come soon enough.

  When the week finally ended, the few unfortunate students who had remained through Friday exams eagerly took flight. Some, like Amara, would return to campus in a few weeks for summer classes, but, for now, many of them migrated home or flocked abroad in search of any short reprise they could find. Henry, on the other hand, willingly deferred a visit home to spend the break with Amara.

  Henry had grown up in the small town of Maple Falls, about forty minutes east of Bellingham, and had pushed his mother, Emily, to let him rent a place closer to the university campus with a couple friends. She, of course, had wanted him to stay at home with her.

  Emily had always been protective of her only child, and her anxieties became increasingly dramatic after her husband’s untimely death. Frank, Henry’s father, had died four years ago from a sudden heart attack. As a mechanic who loved restoring old motorcycles, he and Henry were working on a 1989 cruiser together that he had claimed from an impound lot. Frank had intended to give it to his son as a graduation present, but he didn’t live to complete it.

  Henry couldn’t stand to look at the bike for over a year after his father died. He'd even posted it for sale before finally deciding to finish the project alone on weekends and holidays during his freshman year of college. In a way, it had bought him more time with his dad, tinkering out in his parents’ quiet garage. Some nights he could almost hear Frank calling for a wrench or a pair of pliers while he worked. Now finished, that motorbike was one of Henry’s most prized possessions.

  From the back of that bike, Amara freely explored the countryside beyond the solitude of the empty summer town. They rode along the windy highways that led out of the city and dipped down into the surrounding farmlands. She felt the wind rushing through her. The smell of orange rinds and vanilla wafted off the back of Henry’s neck as she leaned closely into him.

  This morning, Henry steered the bike into an empty parking lot behind the farmer’s co-op and came to a stop. He stabilized the bike with both legs and craned around to see Amara.

  “What are we doing?” she asked.

  “Hop off for a minute, will you?”

  Amara studied him briefly before she complied. H
e flipped the kickstand, dismounted, and stood next to her.

  “Do you want to learn how to drive?” An excited smile beamed across his freckled cheeks.

  Amara’s eyes grew wide. “Seriously?”

  “Sure, why not? I’ll show you how.” He nodded encouragingly.

  Amara hesitated. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself, especially in front of Henry.

  “Come on, you can do it,” he assured her. He reached forward to test the chin strap on her helmet, just to be sure it was secure.

  Amara smiled at the gesture. Her fingers flexed nervously at her side.

  “Look, the lot is empty all around us. There’s nothing you could possibly hit for a hundred yards in any direction. I’ll be right here and I won’t let you fall. But just in case, you can use my gloves, and I’ve got an extra pair of kneepads.” He loosened his fingers from inside the black riding gloves, pulled them off, and offered them to Amara.

  She took them cautiously and slipped her hands inside. They were warm, as if Henry were holding her hand. She smiled timidly.

  “Alright then,” he said with a broad smile.

  Once fully prepped, Amara straddled the seat and grasped the handlebars, her legs flexed to stabilize the weight of the bike. She was tall enough to easily reach the ground on both sides, but she was unaccustomed to the machine’s power beneath her.

  Henry stood beside her with his hand resting on her back.

  “Okay, this is the engine switch, throttle, clutch, brakes,” he instructed. “Put your foot on the clutch and put it in neutral. Good, now push the engine start.”

  The bike rumbled to life.

  “Great, now turn it off.”

  “Turn it off?” she asked.

  “Yes, you’re going to practice that five more times before we move on. You didn’t think I would let you just take off with my bike on the first go, did you?”

  Amara laughed aloud. “Alright, teach, show me again.” She nodded under the heavy helmet.

  She practiced each step repeatedly until she could do it without hesitation. By the end of the lesson, she had even successfully ridden a full loop around the lot. Henry probably could have beaten her pace on foot, but she’d made it, nonetheless.