A Symphony Of Cicadas Part 7

"She was actually happy about it. She said she'd call you to hash out the details." John remembered the missed call from Wendy, realizing that was what she was calling him about. He was glad he hadn't heard his phone ring.

The move wasn't going to happen for a few more weeks, allowing Sam to finish his soph.o.m.ore year at his current high school before summer vacation started, transferring to the school in Sebastopol in the fall. When it was settled, John embraced Sam for the first time in years. Sam leaned into John, just as he had when he was young, when life didn't mean death or the end of marriage, when families stayed intact and everyday life was predictable.

Twelve.

The next several weeks, John made every effort to be present in the home. He knew he only had a few weeks left with Sam, and he wanted to make it right. It was during this time that I felt him distance himself from me. For him, this meant he pushed my image away whenever I entered his thoughts. For me, it meant there were a lot more barriers, a lot more hurdles to jump through just to get close to him. And when I did get close, I felt like I was fighting against the wind, struggling from being blown away as he repelled me away like the wrong side of a magnet. I couldn't touch him, hear his thoughts, or even be in the same room as him whenever he worked to push me away.

It was different when I listened in to those who didn't know me or even think to keep their minds closed to me. I could dance in their thoughts, sometimes even appearing to them as a flash of an image they were either aware of or not. Their inner dialogue was the stuff from which stories were made, and I would often sit for hours just listening to them talk within their heads.

Did I turn off the stove? I'm sure I turned off the stove. I picked up the pot of oatmeal before it burned, and then, oh yes, there it is. I turned off the stove. The cat is probably licking away the oatmeal left in the pot by now. That's going to be a glued on mess to clean up when I get home, I know it. Maybe the cat will be hungry enough to lick it clean. That d.a.m.n cat. I wonder if Peter will know it was me if I leave that door open and let him accidentally run outside.

The physical effects of John's resistance caught me off guard. It surprised me that a connection like this existed where the living had an effect on the dead, even if it was keeping me away. My natural reaction was that of a jealous girlfriend, trying everything to keep myself in his thoughts in an exhausting array of tricks. I'd learned how to break through the barrier that separated his world from mine, allowing me the power to move objects that existed in the land of the living. Of course, such a feat took every amount of concentration I had. Thus far I had only succeeded in being able to knock things down, using gravity to help my cause along. But I knocked items down in front of him every chance I got the one photo he kept of all four of us on the mantle, one of my books that was still in the room despite his sweep through in the first week of my death, and the most impressive of all dropping the remote so that it turned to my favorite movie.

That one took immense planning. On a day when he was gone and I could move about without worrying about being repelled out of the house, I flipped through the TV listing book they published every Sunday in the newspaper. There it was in black and white, the t.i.tle of my favorite movie, "Made in Heaven."

I had made him watch the movie with me often, forcing him to endure two hours of my laughing and crying, sometimes at the same time, as the hearts of the characters on screen were broken over and over. If that movie appeared on the TV screen now, there was no way he'd be able to ignore me.

I memorized the time of when the movie was playing, and concentrated my hardest on staying within a human timeline rather than the non-existence of time in my own reality. And then I just prayed he'd be there at the right moment.

All the other schemes of opening him up to my memory the photo, the book, and anything else of mine I could place in his path - only resulted in John picking up the wayward item and depositing it in Joey's room, keeping the thought of me at bay with impressive strength. But the remote control trick gave him pause, the memory of me filling the room as Elmo, the main character of the movie, filled the screen. John sank to the couch as Elmo sang to the radio in his car, the book "Mike and Me" flung next to him on the pa.s.senger seat.

Rachel, just give me time, he thought, as if he knew I could hear him. His resistance gone without warning, I found myself cast inside of him with a lurch. I should have known, having planned this little action with such deliberation. But still, it caught me off guard. I'd only expected a smile, a memory, only one brief moment of recognition for all the effort I put into this plan. Instead I could feel the way his hair moved across my forehead, his breath in my mouth, the beat of his heart in my chest. I was wrapped up in his smell, intoxicated on the familiar scent I adored.

I danced in the memories that flashed through his head, enticing him to keep me there with him as he let his imagination run wild. But then he thought of Sam and I felt the barrier rising up again. I screamed in pain as it fought against me.

I haven't forgotten you. I love you more than my own life. But I also love my son, and I need to be with him now.

With that final thought, I was flung from his body, from his home, from the city, at thousands of miles an hour. I was thrown with the force of a speck of dust flicked from an otherwise-flawless suit jacket. I found myself propelled through s.p.a.ce with such velocity I was sure I was on fire.

My pride wounded, I realized there was no fighting back. I needed to stay away, at least for a little while. I'd sewn myself too deep into the fabric of John and Sam's life. I had become so involved, even from the stance of a mere fly on the wall, I sometimes forgot I was even dead.

The thought of walking away from them terrified me. Would John end up forgetting me? Would he learn to live without me? Would I become a memory from a past life and would he begin something new with - and the next thought almost paralyzed me - someone new?

But I knew staying away was the only answer. And out of respect for the man I loved and the relations.h.i.+p he had with his son, there was no other choice but to let go for now. So I fought every fiber in my being that ached to be near him. Instead, I spent a few days of human time in s.p.a.ce, practicing my own form of meditation by closing my mind to John. I focused on the wonderment that existed in the pure nothingness that held me up; surrounded by stars and meteors, planets and black holes, experiencing the coppery taste that existed in the lack of atmosphere, and the siren's call of the heavens that bordered the delicious quiet of the universe and could only be heard if I didn't move at all.

And I thought of Joey.

Despite my disbelief in Heaven in those early days of my death, I had grown to believe that there really was something out there. I could sense a stirring within me at the faint trembling notes that existed in the corners of s.p.a.ce, and I felt its pull whenever I let go of my hold on the living long enough to exist in the world of the dead. And I believed Joey was there.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I watched myself ask six-year-old Joey. We were at the breakfast table back then, and in a journey through time, I was watching now from the leaves of the ficus I had inherited from my Grandma Bonnie after she died.

"An astronaut!" he exclaimed. He grinned, revealing his two missing front teeth before diving into the Cheerios in front of him. I had forgotten how young his voice once was, how his hair had once been a sandy blonde before darkening to the milky caramel it was before he left the earth.

"Why an astronaut?" I asked him. "Is it because you want to see if the moon is made of cheese? Or maybe to see if the cow jumped over the moon?" I asked him in all seriousness, though a hint of a smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.

"No!" he giggled. "Those things aren't true; those are just jokes!" he informed me, and I feigned shock that I had been misinformed.

"I had no idea! What will you see if you travel to s.p.a.ce?" I asked him. And in his young wisdom, he described to me a vast universe with giant planets that traveled around the same sun as us, moving in a silent journey at varying speeds with tiny spheres of moons that traveled around them like our cats that swirled around our ankles in the morning before I opened their cans of food. He told me of the meteors that enter our atmosphere, how they are smaller than the palms of our hands but fifty times faster than the speed of a bullet. And he talked of the more impressive comets, the dirty s...o...b..a.l.l.s of the sky that orbit the solar system and hold glimpses of early life. I listened then in the kitchen, and now in the folds of the ficus, with amazement as my young kindergartener explained the secrets of the universe, giving me information I'd learned over the course of time as well as new insight to a mysterious horizon that existed beyond the minuscule earth we lived upon.

"How do you know so much?" I exclaimed, no longer feigning astonishment.

"I saw it on the Discovery Channel," he said before finis.h.i.+ng his last bite of cereal and bringing the bowl to his mouth to drink the rest of the milk. "Can I be excused?" he asked me, and I nodded with a reminder to brush his teeth.

"Are you out there now?" I asked Joey out loud, back to the nothing of s.p.a.ce that held more than even I could see in my limitless existence. "Can you see me from Heaven?" I whispered, the sound hanging in front of me without echo.

I became aware of the possibilities that lay before me as I floated free from my earthbound body. The s.p.a.ce that Joey once described to me was out here, and I had the ability to see it all. Earth, in the far away distance, shone at me like a star in the sky. The giant orb of Jupiter moved in a slow rotation next to me, the ga.s.ses swirling in an ever-moving sphere of colors. Beyond that were much smaller planets in their own slow-moving journey around the sun, a star that looked much smaller from this far away than it did from the comfort of Earth. And all around me were particles of rock and dust floating beside me, sparkling from the faraway sun.

But what caught my eye the most was the trail of faded stars that led further than I could see, winding toward the edges of the galaxy and beyond. My curiosity was working overtime, and I turned to move toward the Milky Way. I picked up speed as I went along, traveling faster and faster until I was plummeting through s.p.a.ce at full throttle. If I were more than just a spirit, I was sure I'd have a tail of fire as I moved forward with increasing velocity.

I came close enough to view the stars that made up the Milky Way, still millions of miles away, and moved parallel with it. I pa.s.sed planet after planet, the s.p.a.ce around me feeling colder as I moved further away from the sun. I saw the glow ahead of me, still thousands of miles away. It was like a sheet that wrapped around s.p.a.ce, invisible above and behind me as I traveled onward. But as I got closer, the glow got brighter. I picked up speed and flew forward with all my strength. It could only be the edge of the galaxy. Even closer, I could see s.p.a.ce rock moving toward the glow. But with shock, I saw each rock sucked through, an invisible wind grabbing hold and propelling it into a storm that swirled around the galaxy.

I was going too fast to stop, or so I thought. Had I controlled my fears long enough to think with clarity, I would have remembered that I had no limits, that I could think myself away from this place in just a moment. But as I streamed towards the edge, all I could think of was being swept into a vortex I wouldn't be able to get out of. This is my h.e.l.l, I thought. I'm going to be stuck here forever in a blender because I chose to leave Earth behind.

It was no use. I closed my eyes and waited for the end. And then I hit it. Literally. I bounced off the glowing edge of the galaxy as if it were a solid wall, propelled backward through the weightlessness of s.p.a.ce with as much force as when I was moving forward. As I flew back, I remembered the power I had. Within a thought, I was back at the edge, examining the glowing wall without touching it. I could see the velocity of movement that existed just beyond it, pulling at anything that managed to pa.s.s through the wall I had hit with great force. Trembling, I brought my hand up towards the glow, reaching forward with some hesitation. Even as s.p.a.ce particles pa.s.sed through the barrier without effort, my hand pressed firm against it. There was no give, regardless of the amount of force I used against it.

That's as far as you go.

I turned my head around, startled at the voice that spoke when I had been alone for so long. No one was there. Once again I raised my hand towards the glow.

Rachel, you will go no further.

This time it was unmistakable. And rather than being a voice near me, it was inside my head.

"Who are you?" I yelled out. Even as I listened for an answer, I admired how the glowing barrier in front of me vibrated with my voice, carrying my sound over it with a ripple of light. I waited for a reply, but received none. What I did hear was the sounds of the Heavens, or what I perceived to be the Heavens. They were closer this time, but m.u.f.fled. It sounded like they were just on the other side of the barrier, but I couldn't be sure. I wondered how long I'd been tuning them out that I was only aware of them now. I strained my ears, trying to make out the words. But it was like listening to sound above water while holding your breath below.

The barrier began to glow brighter, the wind on the other side forming a churning tornado as I both heard its thundering roar and saw all that it carried moving faster against the invisible wall. It started to pulse, and I backed up in fear of what was about to occur. Just as I was thinking of turning around and heading back to where I came from, I was engulfed in a flash of light, shocked by an explosion that went straight through me like a bolt of electricity.

And then I started to fall.

Thirteen.

In one instant I was hurtling through s.p.a.ce 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 compa.s.sion, mixed with a slight s.h.i.+ver 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 s.p.a.ce, 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 pa.s.sed 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 was.h.i.+ng our dishes, and I ran my hand over the smooth marble that encased a large sink below the curve of a st.u.r.dy 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 gla.s.s 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 wis.h.i.+ng 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 sh.e.l.l 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 wis.h.i.+ng 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 wis.h.i.+ng he were with you to wis.h.i.+ng 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.

"h.e.l.lo? 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. Rus.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+rt 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 succ.u.mb to whatever was ailing him and cause him to pa.s.s 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.

Fourteen.

Next I knew, we stood inside a hospital, despite my insistence I didn't want to be here. I glared at Aunt Rose, who only shook her head with a smile.

"We're not visiting John. I have other plans for us," she said. She turned and walked down the hallway, and I followed despite the air of suspicion with which I regarded her. Even though I was almost as guilty as she was of ending the life of another, I still held on to a bucket of resentments, faulting Aunt Rose for the pain of all I had lost. I also knew that she could sense this, and accepted it for what it was. Knowing Aunt Rose in life, and now in death, I imagined she didn't mind the blame I placed on her head. I was talking with her again. That small concession was enough for now.

Aunt Rose turned the corner, and smiled back at me. I could hear the strumming of a guitar echoing down the corridor, young voices chiming in with the stringed notes. We followed the sound to a set of double doors that were flung open wide to allow the music from the inside to fill the hospital wing with song.

On the other side of the doors was a large room with linoleum floors and streamers hanging from the ceiling, uneven as if they had been there for ages. Every inch of the walls was peppered with colorful children's paintings. Bookshelves with books of every size and shape stood in a corner next to several bean bags, and a few forgotten books lay on the floor nearby. Beside that was a bin of toys and a miniature kitchen, a tiny frying pan on the stove holding a replica of a fried egg.

The back of the room was dark, unused at the moment, making the room appear even larger with so much vacant s.p.a.ce. And in the very center under a large light that hung from the ceiling was a man in a white coat, who I a.s.sumed to be a doctor, playing his guitar while surrounded by over a dozen children who sang along with him.

I surveyed each child, seeing the various ways they were broken. One child sat on the floor with a blanket wrapped around him, his pale leg peeking out from under the material to reveal how skeletal he was. His face was gaunt and took on a yellowish hue under the fluorescent lights, though his smile made his face s.h.i.+ne with joy as he laughed and sang with those around him. A girl sat next to him, her head void of any hair. She wore a nightgown that b.u.t.toned at her neck and sleeves down to her wrists. Her feet were bare, and I could see bruises in various shades of purple, green, and yellow against the fair skin of her legs. A boy lay in a wheelchair that reclined enough so that he could remain lying down while still able to view the rest of the kids and the doctor playing the guitar. He didn't sing, but every now and again his face would break out into a silent laugh. His eyes darted around the room as he took in all the sights and sounds that surrounded him.

I took particular interest in this one child, how he was trapped in a mind and body he had little ability to control, and yet was so happy among the other children. I noticed how he was set apart from the others, the children around him paying him no attention as they paired up with each other and left him out of their circle. Segregation exists even in the grimmest of places, I noted.

Every one of the kids kept a safe distance from the boy, as if his paralyzed body and mind of marbles were catching; only glancing over their shoulders when a baritone laugh would escape from his lungs. All of them did their best to ignore him as their innocent voices rose and fell in the echoing room, all except one young girl who couldn't take her eyes off of him. I watched from our corner of the room as she got up, her eyes trained on him as she began to tiptoe in his direction. The boy who sat next to her grabbed her hand, shaking his head at her while motioning for her to sit back down next to him. I realized they were paired up in buddies, as younger kids sat next to older kids in a semi-circle around the strumming doctor. This was what must have ensured a sense of order in the room. But the paralyzed boy had no buddy at all, my only explanation being he was neither able to wander off, nor prevent a younger patient from doing so.

The young girl yanked her hand away from her buddy and crept the rest of the way over to the boy on the reclined wheelchair, staring into his face.

"Abby, get back here," her buddy hissed at her, trying not to disturb the song going on while making himself audible enough for her to hear him and come back. A nurse stepped forward from the back of the room and smiled at Abby's buddy in the circle, motioning that it was okay and she'd keep an eye on them. Abby's buddy turned back around in defeat, focusing once again on singing with the other kids and forgetting Abby and the boy reclined in the back of the room.

The paralyzed boy took his gaze from the kids that sang in the room and looked at the girl in front of him. His mouth hung open in a permanent grin, the drool dripping from his lower lip onto a bib that was fastened under his chin. He grunted at her in an awkward laugh, his head flopping around without any form of control while his body lay limp underneath him. Abby reached forward and touched his cheek, causing the boy to grin wider. She laughed at his reaction and he laughed with her.

"I think Jacob likes you, Abby," the nurse whispered. Abby gave the nurse a shy smile, shrinking away against the wheelchair with her fingers in her mouth. She couldn't have been more than five years old. She wore a nightgown like many of the other little girls in the room, a much happier thing to wear than the standard hospital gowns the rest of the patients wore in the hospital. Her long blond hair hung against her back, still a bit tangled and messy as if she had just woken up. Part of it was shaved away, and a bright red surgical wound shone out from behind one ear, fastened together with black staples.

"Brain cancer," Aunt Rose whispered to me when she saw my gaze fall upon Abby's injured head. I sucked in a sharp breath, cursing a world where young children have to endure diseases that are far too ugly for a life so innocent. "Don't worry, she'll make it out okay," Aunt Rose rea.s.sured me. "They managed to cut all of the cancer out of her brain, and her body has responded to the radiation beautifully." She shook her head with a smile. "The things these humans are capable of, you'd think they were demiG.o.ds with their abilities in science and healing. Truly miraculous, the things they can do." She nodded her head towards Jacob. "Now him, that's a whole other case. There's nothing left for the doctors to do but wait for him to succ.u.mb," she said, clicking her tongue. "It won't be long, either," she added, nodding toward a figure in the back of the room.

A woman stood in the corner, separate from all of us and intent in her observation of Jacob. She glanced over at us and nodded in acknowledgement before focusing her attention back on him. I hadn't even noticed her before, and now her presence was hard to ignore.

"Who is she?" I asked.

"She's a family guide, probably an aunt or distant relative. We all have them, a familiar face that greets us in the first moments of the afterlife. Generally we give those who have pa.s.sed a little solitude before suddenly appearing, allowing you to plot your own course before we come to guide you through the hows and whys of life after living. But with children, we try to be there immediately when they cross over. When that happens depends on the will of the child. For some it's immediate, as they hold little knowledge on how to hang on to life when their spirit begins to move on. But for others, they fight to cling to life, trying to remain in a world with people they love in hopes they can overcome the inevitable. So those of us called to guide them in this existence just hang around until they pa.s.s over. Sometimes the spirit of the living can even see us, like Jacob there," she said.

Sure enough, I could see Jacob's head roll every now and then toward the back of the room, his eyes straining as he tried to see the woman who stood in the back. She smiled back at him, but made no other movement at all. I could sense that he recognized her, but he was unable to voice his recognition. Instead he focused the rest of his attention on Abby, who had now mustered up enough courage to hold onto his exposed hand, curling her tiny fingers around his to make up for his inability to return the motion. And her soft, angelic voice seemed to rise above the other voices in the room as she shared a piece of the celebration with the boy who was ignored by everyone else.

When the designated music time ended, all of the children left for their hospital rooms. Many of them shared rooms with other kids, but Jacob's room only held one bed and a couch in the corner of the room that was made up with a pillow and blanket. Aunt Rose and I melted into the shadows of the room as the nurses worked together to place Jacob in a hospital lift that helped to transfer him from the mobile reclining chair he was in to the hospital bed. A woman, whom I perceived to be his mother, stood next to Jacob's bed, taking his hand once he was positioned in bed and listened close while a doctor shared a quiet conversation with her. The spirit woman from the music room stood silent in the opposite corner of the room, all of her attention focused on Jacob as he drifted off to sleep despite the commotion of the hospital.