Authors: Roni Teson
I had momentarily forgotten the slimy gunk I climbed through in the pit of Hell and the long journey alone through the gray, dank area to arrive at this moment. All of what had gone before had vanished from my mind. My entire being was focused on that cloud growing larger and larger as it approached. I stood up and paced the ledge, watching the cloud in awe of the buoyancy and the softness of its billowy form. I thought it was beautiful, and I felt hopeful that perhaps now I was going to have some peace on this grueling, tortuous journey.
I saw a fleck of something inside of the cloud, or maybe on the cloud. As the puffy substance grew closer I could see movement and I realized something or someone was riding on the pure white pillow in the sky … A girl and what looked like two little dogs. And the girl was happy. Strange … Well, the whole circumstance was strange, wasn’t it?
That vaporous configuration came right up to the ledge and I saw the girl—or more like a young woman—who looked very familiar. But I had no idea what I was about to discover.
Angela, my daughter, was in that cloud. She was talking to two small puppies. All of them appeared to be comfortably lounging on top of the strange pile of white mist—seemingly with sides for them to cozy up against. What I saw was almost exactly like the dreams I’d had over the years, but now Angela was right there in front of me.
I sat and listened without speaking, but had trouble hearing her conversation. As much as I didn’t want her to see me this way, I very badly wanted to talk to my daughter. I wanted to be around my Angela again. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I watched my dead girl right within reach. Until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Angela. Angela …” I yelled and yelled and yelled.
My stubbornness didn’t help me here. It took me a while to figure out that I was peeking into a world that would not let me in. Angela couldn’t hear me, and the dogs didn’t flinch at my yelling and ranting. I was able to watch but not interact. So, eventually, I gave up on the yelling and sat in silence. I could hear patches of Angela conversing with the little dogs. Occasionally the breeze would blow a few words my way, which was another odd thing (as if all of it wasn’t odd enough—right?). I couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying, but I knew she was speaking to the animals.
Torture is how I’d describe these moments on the ledge. For years I’d had these dreams about a girl, my daughter Angela, in the clouds, and this time I was so close to her, and it was so real, but she couldn’t hear or see me there. She laughed, frowned, moved around on the edge of the cloud. And those dogs, there was something engaging about those tiny, little creatures.
Oh no, I’m not a dog person, but my wife was before she married me, maybe that was the connection, who knows … I remember when we were first married I didn’t want pets and Marion went along with it. I seemed to recall Angela loved dogs and vice-versa. Now, these tiny dogs followed her every move in that large cloud. I heard them bark quite a bit and I think Angela understood them because she talked back each and every time.
I was so intent on watching this cloud and my little girl I hadn’t noticed I’d sat back down with my hands clenched on the ledge, my shoulders pulled tight, and my jaw in a grinding motion.
If I were only having a dream or hallucinating, I don’t believe I would have physically felt all these sensations. I could feel the aches and pains, and I was covered in sweat, which smelled like it activated the pit stench—whew … But, I didn’t care. I could sit in my own shit to have this time with my daughter. As one-sided as the event was, I still saw her, and everything about her seemed the same. Well, at least her essence hadn’t changed. She was my baby and I was there to witness … something. I have no doubt about this fact. Here we were fifteen years later and she’d remained the same age she was when she’d died—fifteen.
As quickly as I wiped my tears away, the stream was replaced with even more tears (at least gravity worked in this place).
After quite some time, the cloud began to drift back in the other direction in the same manner it had come to me, ever so slowly.
“No, not yet.” I stood up and reached out to the cloud and pulled back a handful of … well, nothing. I paced back and forth.
“Don’t go,” I yelled as loud as I could.
Eventually the cloud disappeared, and I cried like a baby. Until finally the tears ran dry, and I realized I was alone in the quiet solitude of the ledge.
“What next?” I yelled out to the sky.
When I didn’t get an answer, after quite some time I realized I couldn’t sit on that ledge forever. I had to move on and figure this all out for myself.
I was exhausted, hungry, and extremely tired. I didn’t have any desire to go near that pit again or through the stuffiness of the cavernous space without walls. Walking the perimeter I thought was my best choice, so that’s exactly what I did. Slow, but on the alert, I moved to my left and put one foot in front of the other. Despite the numbness in my feet and the pounding in my head, I decided to walk on until I found some way out.
I moved forward over what appeared to be the same stretch of cement I had hiked across before, with the same claustrophobic ceiling and rough ground. I don’t know how long I walked because distance and time were elusive in this cavelike place, but soon the sky turned to dusk and the night brought a chill. I sat down to rest, and as if yesterday repeated itself, I found myself in the same frog position the next morning during sunrise.
My mouth was parched again, and my body still felt like crap. When I realized I wasn’t in a dream, I sat up and cried like an infant abandoned without a mother’s comfort. I was stuck in Hell, wallowing in my own misery. Tears I hadn’t cried for years flowed down my face, and then, at some point I was all cried out. So, I stood up and started moving.
I recognized that following the ledge was getting me nowhere, though it certainly was the easiest route. My intuition, or some inner sense of that kind, tugged on me to move away from the fresh air and the blue sky and go toward the inside of the cavelike area. I felt as if I had to go back and deal with something in that direction. I wasn’t sure what needed doing, but I knew that something—inside of me or outside—had to be dealt with there. As stale and oppressive as the area was, it had been my way in, so I figured it must be my way out.
I moved away from the sky and the breathable air and walked inward—not toward the pit, but away from ledge. To my surprise, this time around the area didn’t smell as musty. A cool breeze moved with me as if it were guiding me on the path I was headed down. My insides kind of lit up, and for some reason the way I was headed felt just right. For once in my life, I believed I was going in the right direction.
So I kept on walking, even though being alone with my thoughts for what seemed like miles and miles—yet again—was excruciatingly painful.
For someone like me, a guy who had ignored his own existence over the last several years and drank to keep the world away, but mostly to keep away from himself, being fully sober and alone in a quiet place showed up as a sort of private hell. I’d been my own judge, jury, and executioner of my death sentence for so long that I really didn’t know how to behave on my own in an unaltered state. I was uncomfortable facing my indignities and myself. I tried to ignore my past but I walked for so long my mind started moving there. Where else could my brain go? I thought my future held nothing that wasn’t bleak and ugly.
What a stupid fool I’d been for so long. I was 45 or so when I’d begun my downward spiral and 60 at the time I experienced the revelation of the pit. I’d spent about 15 years demolishing my body as if I were on a dedicated mission to do exactly this. I wasn’t able to control the cancer that killed my wife, or the car accident that killed my daughter, but I was able to control my alcohol intake and my own personal madness—so that was the path I’d pursued wholeheartedly.
Jessie took a deep breath and placed the notebook upside down on her table. She didn’t know what to think. Was the journal fiction? Had her brother imagined the incident? Or was he on a bad trip on alcohol or some weird drug that had induced a bizarre experience?
She flipped through the remainder of the notebook and noticed she didn’t have too many pages left. Finishing would probably only take a few minutes, and then she could go back to the hospital.
Coffee cup in hand, Jessie stood up and was surprised by the creaks and clicks of her own body. She entered the kitchen and refilled her cup with lukewarm coffee. She’d been sitting for a long while reading her brother’s journal, and she didn’t know how to feel about it. Who was she to judge? At least she had some insight now into what he’d gone through, or what he thought he’d undergone.
The phone interrupted Jessie’s thoughts. “Auntie, it’s me, Teresa.”
“Hello, my niece,” Jessie answered.
“I’ve got some work to do. I’m actually headed over to the store. I may not make it back to the hospital tonight. Will you keep me posted?”
“Oh, okay … Listen, Teresa, I think you should read your father’s journal. It’s, well … it’s kind of shocking. I’m not sure what to make of it. I also think he recently wrote it as an attempt to explain himself to you. It’s not really a journal—it’s more like an accounting of events or an event. I’m not through with it yet, but …”
“I’ll think about it, Auntie. I’ve got to run. Call my cell later?”
Jessie had been surprised when Teresa’d actually gone to the hospital earlier that evening. JJ was a wonderful boy and probably the only person on the face of the earth who could persuade Teresa to do something she didn’t want to do.
Picking up the notebook, her purse, and her car keys, Jessie headed out the door. This was as good a time as any to return to her brother’s side.
TERESA PUT DOWN THE PHONE AND shivered, a physical reaction to this ugly day. She’d asked Kelly to close the store early because she wanted to go in and clean behind her. Not that Kelly didn’t clean well, but no one cleaned like Teresa. She changed into sweats, a T-shirt, and comfy shoes.
“JJ,” Teresa yelled from the hallway. “I’ll be back later. I’m going to the store for a while.”
Teresa waited for a response and heard nothing so she went to JJ’s door and knocked. No answer. She opened the door to an empty room, which wasn’t like her son. Pulling out her cell phone to dial his number, she saw the text JJ’d sent a while earlier:
Going to Seth’s, call you later
.
Blood rushed to her head—the kid didn’t ask permission; he just went. Teresa took a deep breath and sent JJ a text, every word typed out:
When did you ask?
JJ immediately responded with a
Sorry
and a question,
Can I go to Seth’s?
She recognized his sarcasm in spelling out the words, or perhaps he was being nice so she wouldn’t have to answer with a
What?
Teresa told JJ to be at home in about two hours if he wanted to go back to the hospital, and they would talk about this issue later. She left the house and headed toward her store. The early-evening Los Angeles rush hour was in full force causing her normal five-minute route to take thirty minutes—so much for an easy-commute day.
Teresa turned into the parking lot where she immediately saw four black and white police cars surrounding the old sedan she’d cursed at this morning for taking her spot. Since this was the only entrance to the parking lot, she drove directly toward the hubbub.
A police officer moved from the open door of the older car toward her vehicle. He waved a white piece of paper indicating for her to stop and then approached her car window with his chest puffed out and his eyes squinting as he attempted to see into her backseat. The officer gestured for Teresa to roll down the window. “Excuse me, ma’am, the mall is about to close, and we have a crime scene here. Where are you headed?”
“Oh my, officer, what happened?” she asked. “I own the Soap Store in the mall. I’m going in to clean up. Is something going on that I need to be aware of?”
The policeman now stood at her window in a relaxed stance with his arms crossed. “We don’t believe there’s any cause for alarm. Probably some kids joy riding. The car was reported stolen earlier today.”
“Well, then I should be okay going into my store, right?” she asked.
As the policeman moved his hand, Teresa’s eye was drawn to the print on the paper he held, and she realized the notice had JJ’s full name across the top and looked a lot like his learner’s permit. Adrenaline shot through her body and sent her senses into a spin. She forced herself to remain calm despite her agitation and immediately decided she had to get to JJ before the police did. She had to find out why they had his driver’s permit and what, if anything was his involvement with this stolen car.
Teresa held her breath as the officer spoke. “I think it’s okay for you to go into your store. We’ll be out here for a while, and there’s no need to be alarmed.” The officer tapped on her car as he walked away.
With her heart pounding, Teresa parked her car in the first spot she could find and she resisted every urge in her body to run into the store and call JJ. “One foot in front of the other,” she said to herself as she waved over at the police officers. “Slow and easy. Smile.”
And then … “What am I doing? We’re not fugitives … JJ’s a good boy … He didn’t do anything wrong …”
And then … “Stop it.”
Teresa stood outside the back door and dug through her bag for the keys. After some time, her hand found the set and she entered the stuffy back room. Here, she felt she was finally able to exhale. She dialed JJ’s cell phone and got his voice mail. Teresa then sent JJ a text:
Call me. Now.
Maybe the officer found JJ’s permit in the parking lot and Teresa was just overreacting. No, surely, any trash in the area would warrant further investigation and even somehow be connected to that car. She wouldn’t have dropped JJ’s learner’s permit in the lot, and he hadn’t been here with her recently. Perhaps JJ’s odd behavior wasn’t so odd after all. What if he really was in trouble?