It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,91

obviously too large for him, trails behind, yelling for the others to wait. They stop just long enough for him to catch up and then sprint the rest of the way up the walk.

It only takes a few minutes to reach the park, which is completely empty. Looking around to make sure no one is watching, I climb to the top of the jungle gym and let my feet dangle off the end of the bars. I turn my head to the stars. There’s something kind of freeing about being up off the ground and just a few feet closer to the sky.

“Are you out there?” I ask to the vast openness. “Madeline, can you hear me?” My only answer is the distant laughter of children. I wonder if she saw the people who came out for her funeral. I wonder if she saw the impact her words had on those who were listening. I say up to the sky, “Daniel’s having a pretty rough time, but I guess you know that. To tell you the truth, we all are.” Now silence is the only answer.

“I guess you probably have your answer as to whether Heaven exists, huh?” There’s the humming in the back of my mind again. It’s like a memory is trying to break free. I push it aside and continue talking to Madeline. “By now I’m sure you’ve charmed the big guy, haven’t you? Is he going to give you a set of wings?” The humming gets louder.

But it doesn’t matter. My sudden sobs drown out the din in my head. She’s really gone and the only way I can pretend to talk to her is to stare up at the sky and babble to no one. I jump down from the metal contraption and head home. The streets are almost completely empty now and most of the front porches are dark. Coming toward me, on the other side of the street, is the trio of kids I saw earlier

“Come on, Tommy. Keep up. Mom’s going to kill us if we aren’t home in five minutes,” the tallest of the three calls over her shoulder.

“I’m trying,” the little boy wails, gripping his pillow case bulging with candy in one hand and hiking up his dragging costume with the other. They cross the road and the two older children zigzag to avoid running into me.

“Guys, wait up!” their brother calls again. Chasing after them like a duckling following its mother, he steps out into the street but his costume gets the better of him. He stumbles forward, the bag of candy falling helplessly to the ground, and skids to a stop in the middle of the road.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the twin white dots of a car turning the corner. There’s no way the driver will see the kid. Without thinking, I dash over to the boy and scoop him up. He weighs more than I expect and I stagger to stand upright while running. There’s no way I can get out of the way with both of us. A second later, I launch him toward the grass as hard as I can. He looks back at me, his eyes wide with terror. Off in the distance, I hear screams from his sisters. A moment later, I hear the squeal of tires and feel the impact as the hood ornament slices into my side. I’m thrown through the windshield. My head pierces the glass and the last thing I see as the blood trickles into my vision is the pure whiteness of the air bag blocking the driver from my view.

I close my eyes as porch after porch lights up. Everyone wants to see what’s going on. I hear the cries of the little boy as his sister tries to comfort him. I wonder if the other one went to get their mom. I hope they aren’t in trouble.

Slowly, just as the wail of the ambulance siren sounds, I begin to feel. First, it’s the sharp pain in my head. Next, my leg begins to ache and my wrist does the same not long after that. But it isn’t until I breathe that I realize what real pain feels like. Each effort results in a burning sensation. I try to cough, but it sounds more like a wheeze, and I can feel something dripping out of the corner of my mouth.

“RJ,” someone is saying to me as they shine a white light in