Chapter Twenty-one #2
“Yeah,” I said, letting out a nervous, self-effacing laugh, “I know. I’m not hoping he will read this and magically remember our life in there. I just want him to have it. Call it vanity, but I cannot stand to live in a world where he doesn’t know that I exist.”
I could sense him watching me still, wary and disconcerted, as I slowly unfolded my coat from the back of the chair and drew it on my lap.
My face was scalding, my eyes blurry from all the tears I was holding back.
I felt like if I moved too fast or stood up too quickly, I would collapse to the floor and shatter into a million pieces.
But then, miraculously, he stopped me. “Can I ask you something?”
I leaned back on the chair, hugging the coat to my chest. “You can ask me anything.”
After a pause during which he kept rubbing at his forehead, he murmured, “Was he happy in there?”
To be asked this question, to be allowed to talk about Kai in such an intimate way, was like a rush of clean air. I could breathe again, some of the pressure in my throat releasing.
“For the most part he was happy,” I answered honestly. “Not every day was good. But he was good every day.”
Something in Jay’s expression softened, and he released a high, shaky breath. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”
“Can I ask you something too?”
Cautiously, he nodded. “It’s only fair.”
“Was he happy out here? Before his wife died, I mean.”
Jay cast his gaze out of the window, his face heating. “I don’t think I should be answering this on his behalf.”
“Oh. Yes. Right. I understand,” I mumbled, dreadfully embarrassed, but the second I started to get up, not wishing to bring any more discomfort upon him, he stopped me again.
“Ms. Larsson—”
“You can call me Anya.”
“Anya,” he repeated uncertainly, wiping once more with the back of his hand the dampness from his forehead.
Watching him struggle to talk about this almost as much as he needed to made me wonder if this was perhaps the worst side effect of the Programs. How they had ultimately changed the fabric of human relationships or rather exposed the fragility of their nature, as more and more people chose to escape from their lives and everyone in them.
So perhaps finding ways to communicate with each other in real life was the only thing left to do now.
The only thing that could revive the lost art of transmuting feeling into language and language into connection.
Finally, in a cautious, tentative manner, he said, “We opened the restaurant together. I was twenty-nine then, and he was twenty-three. A baby, basically, but he made it what it is today. All the raving reviews, the awards, the A-list guests—it was all him. His dedication, his talent, his charisma. He loved his work. Not just at the restaurant, but in general. He loved feeding people. Spent almost every Sunday volunteering at soup kitchens. Not that he was a saint or anything. Is, I mean.” His voice broke a little, and he cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk about him like he’s dead. ”
Touched, pained, I agreed, “Yeah.” And after a moment of struggling to hold back tears of my own, I croaked, “Thank you for telling me this.”
Again he nodded, visibly shaking as he took the beer bottle between his palms and started peeling off the label.
Without looking up from it, he continued, “They were getting a divorce, you know. He and Kate. They married too young and for the wrong reasons, although I’d prefer not to get into all of that.
But I do think this is why he felt so guilty after she died.
Like if he had loved her more, maybe she would still be alive somehow.
Or maybe she would have still been driving his car, and none of this would have happened.
I don’t know. Bereavement does very strange things to people.
I can’t really make sense of it. What was going through his head, I mean.
We were all shocked when he said that he wanted to try the Programs. And you know he can be very hard to deal with.
Very stubborn. Once he decides on something, not even God can change his mind. ”
Feebly, I laughed. “Yeah, I can definitely imagine him being like that.”
“And he’s… he’s my little brother, you know,” Jay stammered, pressing his hand over his eyes so I wouldn’t see him cry, although I could still glimpse the tears as they glided down his jaw.
“I’m sorry. I just… I really miss him. It’s been two years, and I don’t even know who he’ll be after everything.
I have this terrible vision in my head that I’ll go to pick him up from Hive and I won’t recognize him.
He will know me and call out to me, but I won’t know him.
” Wiping down his face, he looked at me.
“Is that strange? Am I messed up for thinking this?”
Deep inside me, there was a wild, wrenching ache, and for once, I let myself feel it.
I did not try to tamp it down. I did not try to run away from it.
It’s okay to feel your emotions as they come, Kai had told me once, and I had listened.
And I would keep listening until I no longer felt the need to resist the humanity of my body.
When I was finally able to, I answered, “I think the situation is very strange. So it’s okay to have strange feelings about it.”
Jay nodded rapidly, regaining some of his composure. “Yeah, I guess so,” he exhaled. “Our dad, you know, he’s beside himself. I think he would like to meet you, to hear what you have to say. You can come by the restaurant any time you want. You’ll be welcome, I promise.”
“Thank you, Jay,” I sighed, clutching the front of my sweater. “I don’t know what to say.”
He gave me a small, strained smile, picking the envelope up from the table for the first time since I had placed it there next to his beer.
“I think I should be the one thanking you,” he said.
“For reaching out. For making me talk about it. I think it’s good to talk about it. I think it’s important.”
“Yes,” I agreed, feeling exonerated, freed, forgiving, forgiven at last. “I think it’s important too.”
◆◆◆
After we said our goodbyes, I got into the car and drove for three hours straight without stopping. I told myself I would not stop until I saw something that made sense to me.
It was miles and miles out of the city that the air started to clear.
A crisp, after-rain chill fell over the windshield, and clusters of trees began lining the road in their bewitching autumn beauty.
At the first glimpse of a mountain, silhouetted gray against the black night sky, a grand freeing sensation washed over me, as though all the doors of life were suddenly flung open for me and I could go anywhere I wanted in the world.
On the car’s dashboard, which was connected to my phone, a message popped up from Theo: I’m off work. Want to get dinner or something?
When I stopped at a gas station to treat myself to a strawberry popsicle from the mini-market there, I replied: Sorry. Not really in town. I’ll call you in the morning.
Within seconds a series of question marks appeared on the messaging interface. I locked the screen and slipped the phone back into my pocket. Poor Theo, I sighed to myself. He must think I’m insane.
And maybe I was a little.
Life, my life, had broken free of its laws and constraints.
I could be anyone now. I could be a very strange woman who let herself love and went to the countryside in the middle of the night to stare at the trees and felt absolutely nothing about this strangeness.
Was it bad to be like this? Was it good?
It didn’t matter. So long as I was free.
So long as I was able to live in my own skin.
I drove for another five minutes before a little field covered in grass opened up by the side of the provincial road.
I stopped under the yellow luminescence of an old streetlight, got out of the car, had the rest of my popsicle, which was surprisingly flavorful, and then walked for a bit, my nose streaming from the cold, or maybe just from the change of air quality.
It was quiet and dark, and I should be scared, but I wasn’t.
The night smelled fresh and damp. Pretty little fireflies were flickering in the distance, and the ground was firm where I stepped.
When I got tired, I lay down on the dew-freckled grass with my raincoat still on and an arm folded under my head like a pillow.
The stars weren’t visible, but the moon was. Slight, silver grin precious like a wedding ring. I had the sense that if I stretched out my hand, I could pick it up and bend it around my finger.
The sky is closer here, I remembered Kai saying, and it was.
In my chest, my heart felt light, lifting, rising up to the grinning moon, to a realm of soul and spirit.
But my bones became heavy and sank deep into the soil.
They grew roots, long and meddling, which too sprouted new growth, a continuous network of life that reached all the way down to the center of the earth until its force and mine became exchangeable.
Life collapsing into life. If I kept very still, I could even feel it moving, relentless, ancient, the earth turning slowly, slowly on its axis.
It was very easy then to be alive and human. Easy and powerful, to be a part of the all-encompassing grandness of existence. Right here, on this strange, sick, beautiful world, where we were all connected.