He’s here.

Somehow, someway, Paul always knows when I am depressed. Maybe that’s why I married him. In our 16 years of marriage, he’s always been there for me. Not necessarily to cheer me up, but just to be there so I know I am not alone.

Of course, he also might have known I was depressed because I am vainly trying to pick out the notes of our anniversary song on the piano. Without a word, he sits to my left and deftly picks up the tune where I left it faltering. Even though I have heard this song a hundred times, I watch in fascination as his hands move over the keys with passion and precision.

Those hands. Memories of those hands speed through my mind. Their strength on our wedding night. Seeing tears of joy splash on them as he picks up our baby daughter for the first time. Seeing those hands wave goodbye as he backs down the driveway.

For reasons unknown, these memories actually increase my fears, feeding my depression despite Paul’s presence. Even the thought of our precious daughter does nothing to lighten the blackness surrounding my heart and mind.

As if my thoughts had called her, Shelby lays an arm across my shoulders in a quick hug before taking her place on the piano bench to my right. As she smoothly enters into a duet with her father, I stop struggling to keep up and try to enjoy the song these two composed for our 10th wedding anniversary. Paul’s controlled power is a perfect compliment to Shelby’s quick and light keyboarding. Unbidden, more memories surface in response to the music. Her first piano lesson when her near-prodigy abilities were immediately noticed. The time she broke her arm and we were all in a silly panic that she might not recover completely. Again, the memory of our SUV backing out the driveway, Paul and Shelby heading out to a rehearsal for the Winter Concert. But this time it didn’t end.

“No. Please stop.” Not realizing that I was talking to myself, Paul and Shelby obligingly halt and give me quizzical looks that barely register in my blind stare. The memory continues like some old documentary unreeling in slow motion. Paul and Shelby waving goodbye to me as they back out. The startling appearance of a loaded semi-truck moving way too fast. The sound of it’s horn and the sudden, absolute disappearance of the SUV as the semi jackknifes and slides out of view.

“NO!”, I shout and stagger to my feet, the piano bench falling away behind me. The memories continue, faster now. The funeral. The unbearable silence of my home, of our home. Then the visitations start. Concerned relatives. Doctors. And then more doctors, clucking mysterious phrases like “personality sublimation”, “denial”, and “grief psychosis”. And then I was here.

I turn away from the piano and look out over the activity room. My outburst has gone largely unnoticed among the antics of the other “guests”. Those that still have clothing on are dressed as I am, in an all white hospital gown. Knowing that it has to be done, I turn back to Paul and Shelby and painfully reach for the words I have been given to use in these situations. “I wish that you would just leave.”

As they fade, their look of puzzlement grows, and my grip on reality almost fails completely when I swear I hear Shelby whisper, “Mother?” Crying now, I turn and stumble blindly away in search of my room. I repeatedly mumble, “I’ve been alone all along. I’ve been alone all along.”, hoping it will anchor me to this reality. Why must my choice be sanity with pain or insanity with bliss?

Back at my room at last, I collapse on the bed, accidentally knocking my box of meager belongings to the floor. Sobbing, I kneel on the floor, clumsily trying to push everything back into the box. I curse my lack of spatial ability as a shoebox of pictures tilt over and spill across the carpet. Paul had always done all the packing for the family. He gently takes a music box from my hands and slips it snugly into the packing box. “Oh, good. Here, help me with these pictures, please. If Shel sees them, we’ll spend hours looking at them instead of cleaning. Oops, too late!”

Shelby settles in beside me and hands me a photograph. “Oh, this one. Remember this! It was our trip to the Grand Canyon when you two crazies talked me into that hideous river raft trip. Look at you two! In the front of the raft, just daring the river to do it’s worst. And there I am like a wet mouse, huddled in the middle.” Their laughter reminds me how lucky I am to have such a loving family.

My Immortal

Most people ride the escalator up from the underground, but I always take the stairs. It’s not for the exercise, although that’s a good side effect. Coming up into the daylight from the ever-present gloom of the subway is like a renaissance for me. My mother said it was the same way when I was born. She was only in labor for about 20 minutes. It was as if I couldn’t wait to get out and see the world.

That day, as usual, I got off the train and made my way to the stairs. I looked up and saw the familiar glow of sunlight at the top, like the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. I was about halfway up, climbing two steps at a time, when I saw him. At first, I thought he was just some hippy or a religious nut with his long hair and robe.

We passed upon the stair; I was about five steps past him when I turned around to get a second look. He had turned and was just standing there smiling at me, as if he knew I was going to stop. “Hello, John.”

I was a bit stunned. “How do you know my name?”

He smiled and shook his head. “It hasn’t been that long, has it? Can it be that you don’t remember me, my friend?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I really don’t. Who are you?” He did look familiar, but the only place I could recall seeing his face was on the walls of St. Jude Elementary when I was a kid. Of course, it couldn’t be him.

It was almost as if he were reading my mind. “I think you know who I am, you just weren’t expecting me.” He held out his right hand while reaching into his robe with the left.

I laughed and shook his hand. This was getting genuinely weird. There was no way this could be him, and yet somehow I was becoming increasingly sure that it was. As we shook hands, he produced a business card. The name on it was ‘Jesus H. Christ.’

I dropped the card and let out a half-laugh, half-moan. “This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. I must be dreaming.” I pinched myself, but didn’t wake up. I tried to calm down and think logically, but I couldn’t get my brain to work right.

“John, this is real. Trust me, this is as real as it gets. I’m sorry for the shock. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I guess things have changed since I was here last. I know I was supposed to come back sooner, but I got busy. You know how time can get away from you.”

Without thinking, I blurted out the first words that came to mind. “I thought you died. What are you doing here?”

He looked genuinely shocked. “You thought I died? How could the story have gotten so twisted in just twenty centuries?”

I had the feeling that my sanity was only holding on by the thin thread of this conversation. “So you didn’t die? Weren’t you here to save the world?”

He didn’t answer. He just reached down to pick up the business card I had dropped earlier. He handed it back to me and I read it again. ‘Jesus H. Christ, YHWH Realty.’ I dropped it again. “This can’t be true.”

“John, you keep saying that, but of course it’s true. I’m just here to follow up on the sale. Are you happy with this place, or are you ready to trade up? There are some models with a lot more square footage available right now, for a pretty good price.”

TMWSTW Lyric Linky

"Look at me ....just a clerk ... and the world isn't a kevin smith movie, but my luck is worst than dante's.
I'm made of bones and meat like every other piece of soul in this world.... so ... WHY I must be a clerck and somebody else a rich politician with a rotten soul ? starting to believe that there is no god....
Oh ! a costumer .... she looks nice .... hmm... oohh !!! its Alice !!
Do i know alice ? well ... all that i got was her name ... i'm a completly bag of nothing.uselless. a meet her at a dance club. She was nice ... pretty looking ... and i tryed.
OH GOD HOW STUPID I'M.
I tryed everything but I can’t dance, I can’t talk and probably i can't think of how useless i'm.
She is going to buy a beer. looked on my face as if i was nothing.
She is right"

spoiler with the song on the first commentary =D