The Next Person You Meet in Heaven(7)

But this was not sleep, and what happened next to Annie was unlike any of her previous awakenings. Her eyes never opened, yet she could see quite clearly.

And she was moving.

The ground beneath her feet seemed to carve loose and zoom at tremendous speed, but with no friction, like a glass-enclosed elevator catapulted into space. She sped through colors of every shade, lavender and lemon and avocado green.

She felt no wind, but she heard wind. It seemed to come towards her in a rising squall, then pull away as if sucked through a tunnel, like a massive inhale and exhale. Oddly, this did not concern her. In fact, Annie felt no worry at all. She felt almost airy, and as pain-free as a child.

Then something shot through her, something so alien she would not have had the words for it. Every piece of her was ill-fitting, as if her arms and legs had lengthened, and her head was on a new neck, and images flashed through her mind that had never been there before: the inside of a home, faces in a classroom, glimpses of the Italian countryside.

Then, just as quickly, she was back in her own consciousness and the colors were shooting by again, turquoise and yellow and salmon and wine red. She tried to find her way back to an idea, something about Paulo—Paulo is hurt? Paulo needs me?—but it felt as if she were swimming upstream against her memories. A balloon. A fire. A crash. A hospital.

“It could be good luck.”

Is Paulo alive?

“We just got married.”

Did I save him?

“See you in a little bit …”

Where am I?





Annie Makes a Mistake


She is four years old. She sits at the dinner table. Her parents are fighting. She plays with her fork.

“I can’t believe you,” her mother says.

“It just happened,” her father says.

“Can I have a Creamsicle?” Annie asks.

“Go play, Annie,” her mother mumbles.

“Go play,” her father echoes.

“But can I have a Creamsicle?”

“Annie!”

Her mother rubs her forehead.

“What are we supposed to do?”

“We don’t have to do nothing.”

“Like the last time? Or the other times?”

“Daddy—?”

“Jesus, Annie!” her father yells. “Shut up!”

Annie’s face drops. Her mother pushes from the table and hurries down the hall.

“Oh, yeah, great, run away,” her father says, following after her. “What do you want from me? Huh?”

“I want you to remember you’re married!” she yells.

Annie, now alone, slides from her chair. She tiptoes to the freezer. She pulls on the handle. With a thwock, the door opens.

The air is cold. But there it is: the box of Creamsicles. She wants one. She knows she’s not supposed to. She sees two frozen Hershey’s bars on the lower shelf. Her parents like those. She grabs one to bring to them. Maybe they will stop fighting. Maybe they will let her have a Creamsicle.

She steps back to watch the freezer door close—and is jerked up violently by two large hands.

“You stupid brat!” her father yells, as the Hershey’s bar drops. “I told you not to do that!”

Annie feels a slap across her face and her eyes shut and the world goes black. Another slap. Tears ooze. Another. She cries so loudly her ears hurt.

“Stop it, Jerry!” her mother hollers.

“When I say no, I mean no!”

“Stop it!”

Another slap. Annie is getting dizzy.

“JERRY!—”

He lets go and Annie crumbles. Her parents scream as she sobs on the floor. She hears footsteps rushing her way. Then her mother is hovering over her, blocking the light.

The next morning, her father moves out. He slams the door as he goes. Annie knows why he’s leaving. Because she wanted that Creamsicle. That’s why he’s going away.





The Arrival




Blue. Everything was blue. A single shade, enveloping Annie as if she’d been painted into it. She felt extremely light and strangely curious.

Where am I?

What happened?

Where is Paulo?

She could not see any part of herself. The blue was like a blanket covering all but her eyes. Suddenly, a large seat appeared in front of her, floating about chest-high, with a tan leather cushion and a silver rail across the top. It looked like something from a plane or a bus.

Annie instinctively went to touch it—and was shocked to see her right hand floating in front of her, unattached to anything else. No wrist. No forearm. No elbow. No shoulder. She realized the blue wasn’t covering her body. She had no body. No middle or bottom. No stomach, thighs, or feet.

What is this?

Where is the rest of me?

What am I doing here?

Then, the blue around her wiped away, like soapy water rinsed from a glass, and there were snowcapped mountains to her left and urban skyscrapers to her right. Everything was zooming by, as if she were speeding while standing still. She looked down and saw tracks passing beneath her. She heard the wail of an unmistakable sound.

A train whistle.

She let go of the seat. It vanished. A second seat appeared, farther ahead. She gripped that one and it vanished, too, a new one materializing, guiding her forward. Finally, she reached a compartment door with an ornate bronze handle. She pulled it down.