It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,10
more than a few concerts. Maybe it’ll be fun to remember the good old days.
The opening scene of my birth lights up the space just above the laser disc player. I watch my mom’s face when they place me in her outstretched arms. She’s glowing with joy, which is how I got my middle name. Although it’s about as cliché as you can get, it’s also pretty cool. After all, I wasn’t exactly aware of what was going on during the actual event and my dad didn’t have the foresight to record any of it.
Even through the exhaustion of a forty-two-hour labor, my mom looks amazing. Then again, maybe the HD in the Afterlife is better than the projector in our movie room back home. I dip my head to dab a tear from the corner of my eye just in time to see Dad singing softly to a bundle of cloth. It takes me a second to realize he’s holding me. A moment later, a petite woman with a huge smile walks in, plucks me from my father’s arms, and immediately begins kissing every inch of my face.
“Gladys,” my mother says, “you didn’t wash your hands.”
“Oh pish,” Grams says. “I’ve raised five children, you being one of them, and all my kids turned out pretty healthy. Besides, this is my first grandbaby.” She looks sheepishly at my dad, who’s grinning ear to ear. “But of course, she’s your firstborn.” She starts to hand me back but he just laughs.
“You keep her, Grams. But she is going home with us, understand?”
She grins and begins cooing at me.
As the scene fades away, it hits me that I haven’t thought about my parents since I got here. What are they going to do when they see their only child lying on a slab in some morgue? Mom will cry hysterically. She’ll be inconsolable. I can’t even imagine how Dad will react.
Okay. That’s it. I have to find a way back. I cover my ears as the humming sound starts up again. This time, I put two and two together and realize that anytime I try to think about returning to my old life, my head threatens to explode.
Another scene flashes, recapturing my attention, and the pain slowly eases. This time I’m on the playground near my house. There are tons of kids, but even now, the only person I see is Abby Richards. She doesn’t know it yet, but it won’t be long until we are inseparable. Her mom travels for work all the time and Abby’s dad stays home.
Abby takes one look at me and bounds over. I’ve always wondered why, with all the kids at the playground, she picked me. It’s like she sensed a connection between us.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi,” I respond cautiously.
“You wanna race me down the slide?”
I’m still painfully shy at this point in my life and I remember the debate taking place in my mind. Do I run, full steam, back to my house and lose the chance to make my first friend or do I say yes? Finally, after what seems like eternity, I answer her.
“Sure.” Without another word, we race toward the double slide and the picture fades away. A split second later, another takes its place. It’s the same park, but this time I’m walking away from Abby, who is cowering on the snow-covered ground in front of several older girls. It’s the day of her mother’s death, though I won’t find that out until later because I’m too afraid to stand up for her.
The images last only a couple seconds before vanishing.
My stomach tightens. If there was one thing in my life I could do over, it would be this moment. Abby had called me to tell me about her mother. But I left her behind. Not only did I lose my best friend, but Abby got a pretty nasty beating from those girls. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. I’m not proud of what I did, but what’s done is done. I focus intently on the next scene.
In sixth grade, I transferred to a private middle school with a bunch of people I didn’t know. Most of my old friends were attending the public school across town. I feel bad for the me back then, especially during lunch time. My younger self walks into the cafeteria, scanning the crowd for any familiar faces, but there aren’t any. On the verge of tears, I watch myself stare straight ahead