SMS 24 | Afterlife

After Life

The last thing I remember is my mom’s cold fingers clasping mine as she murmured words I couldn’t quite make out. Tears and pleas filled the chilly hospital room. They say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die, a montage of all your moments. I can tell you firsthand, that’s not true. The only thing I saw was white, and now I'm here.

I stood, my shoulders squared. My stomach churned, and my headache, but I tried to mask it. I felt uneasy and out of place without any clear reason.

"Alice Harper," a voice boomed in front of me, "Move up."

I slowly walked to the podium, stumbling up three steps on either side of a large cement block. As I moved, the person behind me took my place. I grabbed the handrail, trailing my arm up as I reached the top. I took a moment to observe my surroundings, wishing I had appreciated the little things more during my time on Earth. A long line, seemingly endless, filled a black room with no windows or doors, and no end in sight.

"Come on now," a lady sitting hunched over at a desk at the top of the podium snapped.

I stood up and approached her table. She didn’t look up as I got closer. I folded my hands and began to speak.

"Alice Harper," I whispered, trying to muster the confidence to continue.

"Yes, yes. I’m checking the system," the woman punched some keys on her computer and finally looked up.

"Where am I?" I asked, glancing around.

"Oh honey, you’re okay," she replied, sensing my anxiety, "You're dead, but you’re taken care of. Trust me."

I slowly backed away from her.

"You’ve passed away," her tone shifted to a more positive one, "But you're safe here, and you get a second chance."

My body ached, and my legs felt weak. My mind became fuzzy, and my eyes started to close.

Earth

I bit my lip, searching for something to say.

"You’re a bad person, Alice. I want that to stick. I want that to hurt, like you hurt me," my mom yelled.

"Please stop," I mumbled to myself, sinking into the couch with my arms crossed.

"What did you just say to me?" her tone grew cold as tears welled up in her eyes.

"You know what I said," I sulked, sinking deeper into the couch.

"You didn’t come to your own father's funeral. You didn’t even feel the need to call. You’re our only daughter, but more importantly, you were his only daughter too."

"My stomach hurt, so I didn’t feel like going," I explained, "It’s not like I wanted to go anyway. He should never have been a father; he couldn’t sustain or afford anything for either of us."

My mom looked up at the ceiling and then back down at the carpet. She started pacing the room, walking the length of our tiny living room. She began to speak but barely had the strength to open her mouth.

"He was never there, Mom. We can both agree on that at least," I groaned. Until now, I hadn't realized how much my relationship with my parents affected me.

"He was always there; you just never gave him your attention. He was always looking forward to seeing you graduate, and it broke him when you dropped out," she replied hesitantly.

I turned away and looked at the windows, the two large bay windows allowing air into our cramped condo. My eyes grew heavy as I slowly got up. Without looking at my mom, I grabbed my car keys from the dining room table. I quickly opened the door and slammed it shut, leaving my mom standing speechless.

After Life

I slowly regained my vision. I hadn’t realized I’d been standing silently for the past few minutes.

"Age and date of birth?" the woman asked, still not looking up. Her glasses slipped slightly off the tip of her nose, and she reached up to adjust them.

"Twenty, January 13," I said. I tried my best to remember, as I had gradually stopped celebrating my birthdays over the years. Birthdays were just another reminder of another year of change, an idea that always made me uneasy.

Earth

I reached my car as tears began to fall. I dropped my keys twice but eventually got inside and locked the doors. I placed my hands on the steering wheel and put my legs on the seat. If my dad were here, he would scold me for ruining the leather. If my mom were here, she would hold me and tell me everything would be okay. I wrapped my arms around my legs and placed my chin on my knee.

I reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a polaroid. A thick white border surrounded a black-and-white picture. I looked down and saw a smiling girl holding a cupcake with pink frosting smeared across her lips. A man and woman stood on either side of her, posing for the photo. A single tear dropped onto the middle. I was almost unrecognizable, and I knew little me would be very disappointed. I had become the person I swore I would never be.

After Life

The lady finally looked up as soon as I answered. She began to frown. "It’s sad to say you are not the youngest I’ve dealt with today."

She looked back down, focusing on her computer screen. "Most people don’t remember how they died, which I think is for the better," she laughed innocently, "Do you recall?"

I closed my eyes and tried to remember the last few moments of my life.

Earth

I shoved the picture back into the compartment and closed it. I turned the car on and began to back up. I left the parking garage and drove onto the empty roads. It was only around midnight, but the streets were still busy. I didn’t have any other place to go tonight; I didn’t feel like facing my mom again.

My parents had divorced when I was in middle school, so they both had separate houses. I had a room at my dad’s house, but I hadn’t been there since he passed away. Most of his belongings had been packed away, but he brought his memorable items to his hospital room. I couldn’t go home, not now.

I kept driving, pressing harder on the gas pedal as I traveled further.

After Life

"I got in a car accident," I mumbled. I felt slightly ashamed of how I died. When I was little, I was always curious about how my last moments would be, and I wasn’t sure she would be satisfied with my ending.

"Do you remember if you killed anyone else?" the woman asked calmly, startling me. She sensed this and rephrased her question.

"Well, I need to know just what to put in our system. It’s required for me to ask so we can determine if you’re deserving of going to heaven."

"I didn’t," I said sternly, nervous that she had the wrong idea about me. I wasn’t that horrible of a person.

Earth

My heart rate increased as the speed of my car did too. I pressed harder on the pedal. My mind was full of thoughts, but I didn’t want to think anymore. I shut my eyes and lifted my hand. I squeezed my eyes shut, so I only saw black. My ears started ringing, even though the car was filled with complete silence. Tears began to form, but I didn’t let them fall. Suddenly, the black I saw turned white. The ringing stopped, replaced by silence.

I felt myself float out of my body. I could see my body lying on the road with glass surrounding it. My car had crashed into a power line off to the side of the lane. The same car my dad bought me for my 16th birthday.

After Life

"That’s nice to hear," she said, as if that’s all that mattered. She seemed to forget that I had died too.

"Yeah, it is," I responded, looking down and playing with my chipped white nail polish.

"Well, I guess you can pass through. Behind the podium is a door that leads to heaven. Make sure to enter the left one; you don’t want to walk through the wrong door. It’s pretty hard to miss," she laughed and got up from her chair. When she stood, another flight of stairs was revealed, previously blocked by her.

"Wait," I said suddenly, "Do you think I’m a good person?"

"No, no I don’t."

Earth

The hospital room smelled of death and sadness. A bright light provided the only hint of vibrance. I moved my fingers, the only thing I could feel at this point. Blue-tiled walls and tan curtains surrounded me. I had only been in this room for less than five minutes, but I already wished I were dead.

Nurses circled around me, along with my mom. I didn’t remember what happened right after the accident. I assumed someone called an ambulance and my mom. The thing that surprised me most was that she showed up.

"It’s alright, sweetie, just hang in there. We’re getting you all the help we can. Everything’s going to be okay," my mom’s voice didn’t fully convince me. She sat on a stool pulled up beside my bed.

My mom squeezed my hand, realizing blood covered her palm. I looked down at my body from the hospital bed, my head propped up with three pillows. I didn’t recognize myself. I was wrapped in a blanket, but I could still see crimson spots on it.

I lifted my hand and touched my cheek. Bandages wrapped around my chin and nose. Blood was under my fingernails and in my hair. My mom laid her head on my lap, and I immediately flinched. My stomach felt raw and burned with the slightest movement.

I mustered the strength to say one last thing.

"Mom, I’m sorry," I began crying even harder, "I’m a bad person..."

She interrupted, "Please don’t say that," she pleaded, "You’re amazing, and you are so important to my life and your father's. Promise me you’ll never say that again."

"I promise."

She held my hand again, this time harder. My eyes started to close, blood dripping down my eyebrow. As they shut, nurses rushed in. They paid close attention to my monitor as my pulse weakened. The last thing I saw was my mom wrapping her arms around my waist. I could see her lips moving, but her words were unrecognizable. My mind grew quiet, and my sight turned white.

After Life

"So you don’t think I’m a good person," I said.

"Yes, I truly don’t think you’re a good person," she repeated, each word cutting deeper than the last.

"I’m not going to disagree with you. I know I’m a bad person."

"There’s no such thing as a bad person, just a person who often does bad things. On Earth, you were cruel and selfish, not caring about anyone else. Though you faced your own challenges, you became a challenge for almost everyone in your life. That’s what makes you a person who does bad things."

"Then why am I going to heaven?" I finally asked.

"Because everyone deserves a second chance, and I wish you had seen that on Earth. If only you had realized the importance of second chances, you might have turned out differently."

I was speechless.

"I’m not going to lie and say you were a good person, but the most important thing is that you can see that and admit it to yourself."

I smiled. I wasn’t pleased with myself and probably never would be, but I was improving.

"You can pass through. As long as you can promise me you’ll try..."

"I promise."