Maybe this is real life. Maybe I’m not asleep.
He opened the door and stuck his head in. I heard the murmur of conversation. I couldn’t make out the words. There were protestations from the unseen Eric, but the tone in Doc’s voice silenced him. I heard footsteps, and then a young man who seemed oddly colorless came through the door, pushing past the Doc. He moved with an economic grace, no step wasted, almost like he was floating. Eric wouldn’t meet my eyes as he flitted by me and out the other door, shutting it behind him.
“It’s cold in here,” the doc told me kindly. “I have a jacket if you think you’ll need it.”
“Why is it cold?” I asked, suddenly unsure.
“To… preserve the body.”
“Like a freezer?”
“Yes.”
That didn’t sit right with me, the thought that my father could be cold. What if he didn’t want to be cold? What if he wanted to be warm? It wasn’t fair. If he couldn’t be warm, then I wouldn’t either. “I don’t want a coat,” I said roughly.
“Okay, Benji. Okay. Do you want me to be in there with you?”
I thought I did. I thought I wouldn’t want to be alone, even more so than I already felt. The black hole was opening wider and I was starting to collapse in on myself. I didn’t want to be alone. But I heard myself say, “No. I’ll go by myself.”
He nodded, as if he’d expected this. “Then you need to understand something, Benji. I need you to listen and listen good. Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“That may be your father in there. But it’s not really. It may look like him, but it’s not him, okay? Your father is in a better place, a warmer place, a happier place, so whatever you see in there is not who he is anymore.” His voice started to waver. “You should pull the sheet from his head, and take just a moment to be sure. You might want to stay longer, but I am begging you not to. I don’t think I could stand it. Just take a peek and then come out, and I’ll help you remember who he was. I’ll help you remember everything he was to you. He’s not what’s lying in there. That body is not all he was. Do you understand?”
That’s what they say to prepare you, I thought. That’s what they say when it’s going to be bad. It’s going to be bad.
“Yes,” I said.
“I wish you’d change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
Unbelievably, he smiled as he shook his head. “Stubborn. Just like him.” And then he held open the door.
A wave of cold air washed over me, carrying with it a sharp medicinal smell, like antiseptic. My arms prickled, the thin long-sleeved shirt I wore doing nothing to keep the cool air out. I felt dizzy when I inhaled, but I swept away the vertigo, forcing my vision to clear, forcing myself to take the next steps until I was through the doorway into what was essentially a freezer.
“Close the door,” I said, trying to keep my teeth from chattering.
For once, Doc did not argue and did as I asked.
I turned away from the door. In the center of the room stood a metal table. On this table was a great white sheet. And under this great white sheet was the form of a man. I could see the points of the feet, facing away from each other at a slight angle. Following the sheet I could see the gentle press of a stomach. Further, a slight peak of the nose.
I tried to breathe through my mouth because the cold air in the room was becoming harder to take, the medicinal smell like waves crashing over me again and again and again. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Get it done! I cried to myself. Get it done and get out!
I took a step.
I ignored the way the lights above began to flicker.
It’s just bad wiring, I told myself.
I took another step and gagged on the smell.
It’s how they keep things clean.
I shivered with the next step, my teeth starting to chatter.
It’s how they keep things preserved.
Another step, and I knew it would just take one more.
I was almost there, so I took it. I took the last step.
The lights buzzed loudly.
Before I could stop myself, before I could turn and run from the room screaming that it was a lie, this was all a lie, and please, please, let me