I had the idea for this story a year ago, but it stuck with me. So much so that I wrote it out in one afternoon a few months ago. I think it's ready to share now. Enjoy.
Guide
She was making her way across a crowded, high-ceilinged
lobby when she saw him. There was a flicker of recognition, followed closely by
confusion. How could he be here? Was she dreaming?
Then he saw
her and his face lit with recognition, and she knew she was dreaming.
He stood
calmly, waiting for her as she approached. She couldn't understand it, this
compulsion to speak to him, but it felt right.
A female
voice from behind called, "River!"
He raised
his hand in greeting and said, "Hi, Laura," but he didn't move.
In no time
at all he was close enough to touch.
"Hello,
Jane," he said. "I've been waiting for you."
"I'm
dreaming, aren't I?" She studied his untroubled face, young and untouched
by time. His blue eyes were piercing this close. She was having a remarkably
vivid dream.
He smiled.
That bad-boy, half smile like she remembered from The Thing Called Love.
"No,
you're not dreaming."
"How
are you here?"
"Where
is here?"
She looked
around. They were no longer in the lobby full of people rushing to work. She
remembered it now, the last place she'd worked before getting married and
having three kids. But now a wide corridor stretched out behind her, its
stark-whiteness giving the impression it went on forever.
She looked
back at River, who was miraculously still there. "I don't know where we
are."
"What
do you remember last?"
She
stumbled around her memories for a moment. Why couldn't she remember? And then
his face popped into her head. "My husband."
But that
wasn't it. Will died three years ago. Their children were grown. One of them
lived in Colorado. She'd been on her way there. Some of it was coming back, but
it hurt her head. When she brought her hands up to her face to brush away her
swirling thoughts, she realized her hands were not her own. She looked down at
her body. She was young again.
"This
has to be a dream. I haven't been this young in decades."
"You're
not dreaming," he repeated.
"How
else do you explain this conversation? You've been dead for decades and I never
knew you."
He smiled,
so calm and steady. "You always knew me, just not on earth."
"On
earth?" What was he saying?
"Do
you remember driving, Jane?"
She nodded.
"Driving to Penny." Her daughter. Colorado. The snow. She'd never
driven in the snow. A sudden realization hit her. "I died, didn't I?"
He watched
her, waiting for her to have a break down or explode.
Finally,
when she did neither, he said, "Your body died, Jane, but you're
here."
"But I
remember." Her hands went to her head again. She remembered the impact.
She felt it. "I hit my head."
A mirror
appeared on the wall behind River, and her face reflected back at her, only it
wasn't her face. She was twenty-five again. There was no blood to be seen, and
instantly the pain vanished.
"Anything
you're feeling now is a phantom. You're still tethered to your body, but that
will fade."
"But
I'm dead." She felt the truth of the words the moment she said them, but
also the lack of emotion associated with them. Shouldn't she feel something?
Panic? Fear? Loss? There was a strange lightness in their place she'd never
felt before.
"Your
body was mortal, but your soul isn't. You're not dead, Jane."
The mirror
dissolved from the wall.
"Let's
walk for a while," he said.
She
followed him down more white, dizzying corridor, though doors appeared
periodically along the right wall. Even though she'd never been there, the
space felt familiar somehow.
"So if
we're not on earth, where are we?"
"I
never said we're not on earth."
She stopped
walking. "Is my husband here?"
He
hesitated before he turned to face her. "There are some things I can't
tell you, but you'll understand soon enough."
"Why
you? Why did you meet me?"
"I
volunteered."
"But I
don't remember you."
He smiled
again. "You will. We've known each other a very long time."
She stared
at him, unable to comprehend any world in which she might have known River
Phoenix. "Where are you taking me?"
"I'm
here to guide you to your door."
"My
door?"
"You'll
remember everything when you go through your door."
"You
had a door?"
"We
all do."
She turned
to face the door behind her. "Is this my door?"
"No.
You'll know when it's your door."
"Have
you done this before?"
He shook
his head. "You can only guide someone once."
"So
how do you know what to do?"
"I had
a guide too."
"Who?"
"You'll
remember her too." He smiled
serenely at her.
"So
this isn't your job, guiding people?"
"We
don't have jobs. Each of us has a purpose, a specialty."
"But...why
me?"
"I
told you, I volunteered."
"Why did you volunteer?"
"Because
I wanted to."
She made an
exasperated sound. "How do I know you're not lying, making all of this up?
How can I trust you if I don't know you?"
He flashed
that sly grin again and said, "What does it matter if you're dead or dreaming?"
He watched her for a moment before he started walking again.
"Besides," he said over his shoulder, "I can't lie, and neither
can you."
She caught
up with him. "You can't lie," she repeated skeptically. "How
does that work?"
"People
still tell half-truths, only part of the information, but they can't lie."
"Did
you believe your guide?"
"Not
at first."
"But
it didn't take much convincing for you," she guessed.
He
shrugged. "I wasn't occupying a body as long as you were. Everyone's
different. Sometimes the stronger the mind and body, the stronger the hold it
has."
It was her
turn to smirk. "Are you trying to tell me I'm stubborn?"
"That's
one way of putting it."
As they
were walking, their surroundings had changed again. She was struck with a
memory so powerful it was like she really was twenty-five again. "This
corridor reminds me of Versailles." Just as she spoke the words, the whole
corridor transformed into her favorite part of Versailles: the high decorative
ceiling, the gilded walls, the windows on their left, and one pair of double
doors on their right.
She knew
they were hers. They pulled at her like a magnet.
River's
smile spoke volumes. He was radiant.
"You
said a door," she said, laughing.
"Like
I said, everyone's different. I know someone who told me their door was
actually a pair of French doors that were just like the ones that led out to
the balcony in their favorite apartment."
"And
yours?"
A faraway
look crossed his face. "It was a large wood door, very ornate, lots of carvings
like something you'd see in Morocco. It was beautiful."
"And
the room?"
He gazed
upward. "It was not like this." He laughed. "This is all
you."
"You
made that mirror appear earlier." She hadn't realized until now that it
might not have appeared on its own.
He smiled
and nodded once. She saw then his true depth; how much older and wiser he was
than he first appeared. "Is everyone this young here?"
"Young
is subjective."
She looked
back at the doors. She thought she could hear the faint sound of bells or
glasses clinking together on the other side. "What will I find on the
other side? Am I going to heaven?"
He looked
almost mischievous at this. "There is no heaven and hell, only
choice."
She let his
words sink in before an alarming thought occurred to her. "Does anyone
choose to not go through their door?"
"Yes,"
he said, sadly.
"And
what happens to them?"
"They
stay here, able to visit their old life, the people they love, but they are no
longer a part of it."
"That
does sound like hell."
His silence
sounded like agreement.
"Can
they never go through their door then? Will it disappear?"
"No,
they can come back. It's always here, waiting for them."
She took a
step toward the doors. "What will happen to you, where will you go when I
go through?"
"Home."
As though he could sense her next question, he added with a smile, "You'll
see."
"So
I'll see you again?"
His smile
was radiant again. "Oh, yes."
She turned
back to her doors almost reluctantly. No matter their pull, she suddenly realized
his pull. She hesitated with her hand outstretched toward the ornate golden
doorknob, and turned back.
"River?"
"Yes,
Jane."
"Why
do you think you were so unhappy when you had a body?"
He hardly
paused before he said, "Because I remembered too much."
Her hand
touched the doorknob when River said, "No matter what you see, just know
this is how it was supposed to be."
She didn't
know what he meant, but his encouraging smile and nod seemed to tell her that
she would know soon enough.