Dunkin Donuts XVI Cont’d
James winked at me as the full moon peaked from behind the clouds.
“Just imagine yourself with me somewhere else, and you will be there, at the sound of the next crashing wave. We will be there.”
And so, I tried to think of a place that would be chill, where we could be alone. When I woke up we were in a room, where at one end there were two beds, and the other, people walking in and out, with a doorway in the center of the room, desks planted against the walls, markers on floor in the shape of footprints. We were both lying on twin beds, with another doorway right next to us. James’ bed cover was navy and mine was a deep maroon. Both of our pillowcases were checkered with navy and maroon, and the sheets peeking out were warm flannel sheets with pictures of dogs on them. I ran my hand nervously over the warmth of the sheets, under the blanket that looked like the same I had seen at Target when I was shopping at Macy’s the other day.
“It’s just us,” he said. He was lying on his side, facing me, and I turned to lay on my side, towards him. His eyes were profound, a deep shade of brown, almost black. He ran his other hand over the fuzz of his hair, and in a few seconds the lights in the room flickered on and off.
“So, what do you want to talk about?” he asked, tracing a figure eight in the air in front of him. Half a second later drops of gold fell from his hand and to the ground, where the drops unambiguously melted through the confetti carpet.
“I want to hear more about the afterlife thing that I have been heard of so much,” I demanded. “But first of all, who are those people?” I pointed towards the people at the other side of the room, walking in and out of a portal with a sign hanging above it, words of some language I had never heard of before.
“This is where we are planning on putting you, and people like you, when they earn their wings. This is limbo.”
“What is limbo,” I asked. “and how can I earn my wings when I am living?”
“The rules are that everything is introduced before you die, and then you forget it all, and it goes to the back of your mind, if that’s what you want to call it…and then you die however was meant to be, and then you become an employee, for the afterlife.”
James looked me sweetly and reached his arm across the space between the beds. I did so, also, and we held hands. James kicked his shoes off, making a loud racket, so that, just for a second, the people walking in and out of the room and sitting at their desks looked over to us, and then resumed what they were doing.
“Limbo is one of my favorite places to visit. You can do or say anything, and people won’t judge you. It’s all too surreal, and all too magical…you just have to believe that there is more to things than what seems…anywhere, in any dimension, on any level.”
A large wall clock over the sign above the doorway rung out twelve times. James let go of my hand, sat up, and put his shoes back on.
“That’s our call, we’ve got to go. Where do you want to go next? Close your eyes….”
And I imagined the park that was across the street from an old building, the one I see everyday when walking back from school.
“Sounds like a plan,” James said. “Let’s go. It’s the last place, so we better make it last.”
Before I knew it, I was sitting a swing, swinging out to the open space in front of James and me. He was swinging on the swing to the right. In front of us was a play place, with monkey bars and slides. Some kids were running around in front of us, and they seemed to not pay attention to us, the same way as the people in limbo.
“This isn’t the actual park, is it,” I asked. “It’s just all in my mind.”
“Exactly, it would be too dangerous for us to really be there. It would be a cross between sleepwalking and hallucination.”
The wind whipped through James and I, and I watched as car passed by on one of the side streets framing the park.
“I go here, sometimes,” I said, “when I want to be alone with my thoughts. People give me weird looks, but I don’t care. Swinging is the best therapy.”
James was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke.
“Do you believe in God?” he asked.
The question caught me off guard. “…I guess…I mean, lately, yeah…but not so much before. Why, will I not get to be an angel if I don’t believe in God?”
He said nothing and grimaced.
“It’s kind of arbitrary, though, the question…kind of off point…I mean, from what I have learned, there can be angels with dark wings…and people from the third dimension can seem like pretty good people to me…so what exactly is…God?” I said.
The clouds covered up the moon that I had been staring down.
“When I was younger, I saw God as something subjective…it can be the good in people,” he said. “Or the miracle that saves us all, the stars and moon peaking out from behind the clouds. It’s up to the angels to allow everyone to believe in God, by doing God’s work, by showing that God cares about us.”
I started to notice the humming of the cicadas. I turned to see what James’ facial expression was. He was smiling but gazing off into the dark.
“Well, it’s been fun,” he said with an energy that came from his shoes hitting the playground floor.
“Wait, will I see you again?” I asked. “I mean, now that you are my newfound guardian angel….”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll be with you when you are awake and sleeping. It’s just something that needs to stay in between the lines.”
We both jumped from the swings. He walked up, right next to me, and kissed me on the forehead.
“Here we go,” he said.
And I woke up, asleep in my bed, the ceiling fan turning with a familiar energy.