A Symphony of Cicadas

Thirteen



In one instant I was hurtling through space with nothing to grab onto. In the next, I was back in the forest I found myself in when I first came to this new reality. I wasn’t sure how I got there - if I had flown or just imagined myself here. But I was glad to be back, safe in my dark and moist forest instead of being engulfed by an explosion at the outer edges of the galaxy. I tasted the air around me, breathing in the mossy textures that comforted my nose. It was a far cry from the metallic cosmos that smelled like rust and tasted like biting on a penny.

I had landed in the same spot I was in when Aunt Rose found me, where the lightening had come down, catching the woods on fire. The proof of that fire was long covered over, both by Aunt Rose and by time. But from where I sat, I could still see the exact spot where the lightening had hit, the scars of the broken tree just visible under a blanket of green.

The scars continue to be there, even after death.

Here I was, months, maybe years, after I had crossed over, and I still held onto a life I couldn’t get back to. But the love remained, on my side and on John’s. It was what kept us connected, what linked us despite existing in two different dimensions and separated by an invisible barrier. And I was tired of the barrier being there. Never had I felt more alone than I had in the days, weeks, months since my death. The existence of that barrier tore at me, made me feel like nothing was ever enough. I couldn’t go on just seeing a glimpse of a smile, or knowing that John was thinking of me. How could I be satisfied when he didn’t even know I was there? How would it ever be enough when I’d never see my reflection in his eyes, or the way he smiled when he looked down on my face?

This time when the cicadas began buzzing, I relaxed into the song and was carried into it as if I were one of the notes echoing through the trees. I thought of John, envisioning myself wrapped up in his arms again, feeling the sandy texture of his cheek against mine and the warmth of his body wrapped around me. I nestled against him, falling deeper into his embrace so that it no longer felt like an imagined scene. Everything else felt like a dream as I submitted to the feeling of being held so close. And in the moment, I no longer felt the weightlessness of being dead, feeling instead the sweet tether of living within a human body with skin and sweat and heat and life.

But the sound of the cicadas that surrounded me kept me grounded, letting me know that they were the reality, not John. And I managed to tear myself from John’s arms and set myself back on the forest floor, sinking in tears as I cried for all I had left behind.

“Oh Rachel, what have you done?” a voice asked next to me. I looked up to see Aunt Rose looking down upon me with compassion, mixed with a slight shiver of fear.

“What do you mean?” I asked, forgetting my anger in my confusion. I wasn’t sure if she was referring to the voyage through space, my resolve to stay near John, or just plain failing at this existence in death. But then I remembered that she was the cause of all of this, and I set my jaw in stubborn defiance. “I’m not speaking to you,” I told her, turning back to the ground and willing her to go away.

“Take my hand, darling,” she said, forgetting that I had forbidden her from using the endearment. I wanted to lash out at her for even daring to come near me again after all the trouble she had caused. But something inside me urged me to trust her. And so I did. I reached up and took her hand, pulling myself to my feet. And with a tug, we were both transported from the forest to the inside of a building. It felt familiar. I took in the hardwood floors and the painted walls, the photos that hung from the walls and the light fixtures that glowed above our heads. I realized with a lurch that this was the house in San Anselmo. How much time had passed since that day?

Aunt Rose urged me forward. I walked through the house, sighing with admiration over everything John had been working on in his spare time. The kitchen was just as I had hoped, the checkered floors greeting me like they were part of a diner out of the 1950s, the red from the towels and kitchen gadgets on the sink smiling at me and beckoning me forward. Sunlight streamed through the window where I would have been washing our dishes, and I ran my hand over the smooth marble that encased a large sink below the curve of a sturdy faucet.

I moved to the next room, and exclaimed over each detail that John had placed into it with care. The brilliant white wainscoting in the bedroom complemented a light shade of blue on the walls. Large wooden blinds sat within the windows, opened to reveal the garden outside that was blooming with life. Separating this particular bedroom from the master bedroom was a tiled bathroom, the same black and white pattern on the floor below a wide claw footed tub. I climbed into the tub and lay down, the size of it large enough to allow me to stretch out my legs and soak in the imaginary bubbles. In the corner was a large glass shower encased in blonde stone with a large rainfall shower head above. A pedestal sink was in the other corner, and a large vanity lay between the sink and shower where I would have been able to do my makeup and hair.

“Darling, I need you to keep going,” Aunt Rose said, interrupting my mental escape inside the home I was supposed to be living in. She took my hand once again, but this time did not lurch me away. Instead, she led me to the master bedroom. I gasped when I saw what she had been trying to show me all along, feeling stupid for being distracted by a building. There on the floor was John, crumpled in a fetal position beside the makings of a bed frame. The screwdriver had fallen from his hand and rested a few inches away. As I rushed to his side, I was afraid he was dead. Rather, I was half afraid. Part of me, the part that I hid from my watchful Aunt Rose in the corner, hoped that this meant he would be joining me soon, that I would be able to hold onto him once again and feel his breath on my face. But I also wanted him to live, knowing how he needed to be there for his son, knowing that it wasn’t his time to leave earth.

I reached out and touched his face, or at least moved my hand against the barrier that separated us so that my hand hovered just above his ashen skin. In an instant, I was flooded with images of the two of us together, his mind working overtime as he flitted from consciousness and a dreamlike state, fighting to stay on his side of life.

“Rachel,” he whispered, and I realized he was aware of me in this half-conscious state.

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’ve always been here,” I whispered. I could tell he couldn’t hear me, that he was just aware of my presence even if I felt only like a dream. But I lay down next to him, my back against his chest as I curled up into his body, the invisible barrier the only thing between us. And I stayed like that with him for a few moments, holding the same position I had imagined just moments earlier in a forested symphony of cicadas. The song of the winged insects was replaced this time by the sound of John’s heart against my back, my ears filled with its irregular beat, the sound so engulfing I was afraid it would beat right out of his chest.

“Now do you understand?” Aunt Rose murmured from where she stood on the other side of the room.

“Understand what?” I asked her, keeping my eyes closed and wishing she’d just go away.

“How fragile life is, and how it can be broken by just one of our mere whims,” she told me with quiet seriousness. I opened my eyes from the protective shell of John’s body and looked at her.

“What do you mean?” I scrutinized her, a ball of fear manifesting inside me.

“If you don’t stop wishing him with you, he’s going to die, Rachel.” Her eyes flashed with determination as she tried to get me to see what I was refusing to see.

I had caused this.

I jumped from where I was and stood over John. His breath was slow and he winced in pain. When he could speak, he said my name with each breath. I longed to stop his pain, to bring him away from all that hurt him and comfort him in his fear. I remembered what it was like to die alone, to be cast into a confusing world where nothing made sense and no one was there to show me the way. With silent vows, I promised him I wouldn’t let that happen to him, that I would be there when he reached the other side, and together we could figure out what happened next.

“Do you really want to be the cause of this?” Aunt Rose asked me, beside me with her hand on my shoulder. I was reminded of the moment I realized that her wishes had ended the lives of me and Joey, and how angry I had been with this woman I had once loved like a second mother. I looked with alarm at John, realizing that I was in danger of killing him, and that he might hate me for it. I tried to reason within myself that he would have wanted this. But I knew that by bringing him to me, I was also tearing him away from everyone he loved in life, including his son.

“Is it too late?” I asked Aunt Rose with a sudden fear. I remembered the momentum that had continued even after she had changed the course of her thinking, how we had careened off the cliff even as she willed us to continue on in the land of the living.

“I don’t think so. But you need to change your thoughts from wishing he were with you to wishing with all your heart that his life will continue,” she told me. She moved her hand from my shoulder and took my hand in hers. I squeezed it with determination, glad she was here to guide me in something I still didn’t quite understand. How would I have known what to do, or even what was happening, if she hadn’t found me and led me here? I closed my eyes and thought about John, this time in a reality that didn’t include me. I thought about him with his son, imagining the two of them together in this house, sharing a life of happiness that was filled with the living instead of being haunted by the dead. I created in my mind scenarios that involved him working at his job, taking Sam to baseball games, and even, with hesitation, thoughts of him falling in love again and discovering life beyond me. But as hard as I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to see a face upon the girl he looked at with such care in the confines of my imagination. Instead, I saw the back of her head and his face looking down on hers. And I pushed against the feelings of jealousy that threatened to overwhelm, discovering the sweet sensation of comfort that rose up under the thoughts of him happy once again.

From the ground, I could feel him stir. He grimaced in pain as he tried to sit up, the pain forcing him to remain on the ground. My image was gone from his head, filled instead with thoughts of his son and a feeling of hope he hadn’t experienced since I had been ripped from his life.

Without warning, a yellow lab trotted into the bedroom and went straight to John. The dog licked at his face and then looked right at me. He saw me, even if it was only as a glowing light. It was strange that he was here, though I decided to thank him in silence rather than question his presence in our home, John’s home.

“Is anyone there?” a voice called from the front of the house. I was transported to the entryway where a couple stood at the open door with an empty leash in their hands.

“Hello? I think our dog is in your house!” the man called, hesitating for just a moment before stepping into the hallway. The dog barked next to John, and both of them moved forward with less hesitation. “Sandy!” the man called out as he ventured through the house. He turned the corner and saw his dog next to John. Rushing forward, he said, “Call 9-1-1!” to his wife who was already pulling out her cell phone.

I moved back into the corner, melting into the shadows, my shame making me want to be even more invisible than I was. I had caused this. It was my fault. In front of me, the man knelt next to John and checked his heart rate, his breathing, asked him a few questions that John stumbled over in his answers. The time bubble burst as I watched everything happen in both slow motion and in an eerie fast forward, all of it unfolding at the same time. The paramedics came and checked his pulse again, swarming around him like seagulls fighting over an open bag of chips as they poked and prodded him before lifting him on a gurney. The couple with the dog spoke with one of the paramedics, telling them everything they knew about what had happened. They were the last to leave, taking the keys that hung on the hook inside the kitchen and tucking a note with their phone number in John’s shirt pocket as he was wheeled away, then shutting the door behind them and locking it behind them.

“Did you want to go with them? Maybe ride in the ambulance?” Aunt Rose asked me. I shook my head, too fearful to speak. “Maybe you’d like to meet them at the hospital then,” she said. Again, I shook my head. I was afraid to be near him, afraid I’d wish he would just succumb to whatever was ailing him and cause him to pass over to the other side. Aunt Rose patted my cheek, and in the sympathy that shone from her sad smile, I knew I didn’t need to explain anything. “Come on darling, let’s get out of here.” She took my hand and we were whisked away from the sunlit house that should have held so much happiness, but only carried the same ghosts that all of us – John, Sam, me, and even Aunt Rose – were trying to escape.