A Dead Man's Thoughts

“Dear? Deeaarrr! I need you to come look at this!”
Alarms.
My wife’s panicked voice was the first thing that set off the alarms. The second thing was the speaker announcement that boomed through our neighborhood. Followed by actual alarms. The pandemonium that followed was a blur. All I can recall was Lydia’s face when the TV broadcaster said the world was ending. I didn’t know how to react and neither did she. All of our plans for the future were gone in an instant. The idea of us starting a family. Gone. The idea of us growing old together on some wooden front porch. Gone. We were all going to die. We were going to die just as unaccomplished as we were when we woke up. I would never see the sun rise again or wake up to my wife’s face. I’d never get to visit France and kiss her under the Eifell tower. She’d never be able to get that law degree she had spent years working for. We’d never see our parents again. I’d die before I could make amends with my brother. This was the end of the world, and I was stuck in reality. Stuck with this reality.
I don’t remember ever being this calm before. I was actually calm about the fact I had less than 24 hours to live. It’s absurd, I know, but I didn’t exactly see how freaking out could help. My wife was doing enough of that as is. Lydia was running around the house, scooping up random objects and yelling unintelligible things before dropping all the stuff and doing it again. It’s honestly annoying, and when I snap at her and tell her to shut up and calm down, I realize I just yelled at my wife, but never ever in my life have I not regretted it after. I hurt her and didn’t feel bad about it. And that's when the thought that I was crazy first popped in my brain. Sure, I had already considered that Lydia was losing her mind, but me? No way. Lydia was composed on her best days, but every so often she had these episodes. It was understandable if she was crazy, but not me. Never me.
Two hours after the initial announcement, I’m sitting on the sofa staring at a blank TV screen with my crying wife on my shoulder. I’ve never heard Lydia so quiet in all the years I’ve known her. Just a few hours ago she was blabbering away about our trip for our anniversary, now she’s dead silent. Aside from the occasional sniffling, that is. The past two hours went by eerily slowly, like the universe is trying to give me time to let the fact the world is ending sink in. The truth is I had accepted this right after I found out. “Not the worst that could happen,” I had thought at that moment. And now I’m sitting here, comforting my hysterical wife as a hot silence fills the air. The curtains are drawn, but as I stand and pull them open, the deserted street in front of our suburban home only makes the tense atmosphere stiffer. I turn away from the desolate view, desperate to take my mind off of what I had already convinced myself I had accepted, and walk into the kitchen to the bar, taking down a bottle of wine. I ignore Lydia’s weak protest as I lift the bottle to my lips and tilt it back, my Adam's Apple bobbing as I downed the drink. I only stop when the flow ceases, my head woozy from the sudden amount of alcohol I had consumed. I hear my wife say something and pull on my sleeve, but I don’t understand what because a dull buzzing fills my head. I stumble out of the kitchen and down the hall, jerking away from Lydia’s attempts to stop me. She calls my name desperately, telling me to pull myself together and come sit back down with her. She’s telling me to calm down! The audacity she had! I couldn’t believe she thought I was the one who was freaking out when she had been losing her mind earlier. But when I slipped on the hallway carpet, I suddenly seemed to sober up, because I realized how stupid I was being. I remember falling, but I can’t recall the pain of hitting the ground, or how I ended up back on the couch with Lydia, once again staring at the dark TV screen. All I remember is how happy Lydia looked sitting next to me and the feeling that thudded in my chest, beating with my heart. I didn’t feel alive, but I think I was happy. As happy as a dead man can be at least.
It’s getting dark outside. The formerly bright blue sky is now a bright red, like freshly spilt blood pouring out, staining the once azure blue a crimson shade. It’s like the universe is mocking me. I know I’m never gonna see another blue sky again, and I can’t even enjoy my last one. Lydia doesn’t seem to notice. That, or she doesn’t point it out. I like to think she was oblivious up until the end, though. It gives me peace of mind. Well, it did.
Lydia is making dinner, and if I close my eyes, it almost feels like a normal night. I can pretend I just got back from work and I’m tired. I can pretend I got a bonus at work and as a treat Lydia is making my favorite for dinner, chicken parmesan alfredo. But I didn’t. And it isn’t. That reality makes me numb to the nostalgia that would usually overwhelm me in a situation like this. But there is nothing other than this empty feeling. I can’t even describe it as comfortable or cold. It’s just there. Hovering over me like mist over a pond. And when Lydia curtly tells me dinner is ready, I simply nod and move the coffee table closer to the sofa, propping my feet up on the navy ottoman that didn’t match our brown plaid sofa, but Lydia insisted on getting. I guess since it's the end of the world I’m noticing different things. Like the tacky ottoman. Or the silver strands of hair that gleam at Lydia’s temples. “She’ll be gorgeous even when all her hair is white,” I thought, but then realized I would never live long enough to see. That thought was like a feather when I first had it, but as I realized what it meant, the heavy weight that landed in my gut made me sick. I suddenly seemed to have lost my appetite.
I ate, not because of the low rumbling of my stomach, or the delicious smell of the food wafting through the air made my mouth water, but because Lydia would worry if I didn’t eat. She deserved to go to sleep tonight without having to worry about me, because we would never wake up to eat another meal together again. It was over tonight. But the least I could do for her was let her die with peace of mind. That’s what she gave me, so why shouldn’t I do the same?
It’s oddly comfortable sitting in the dark. The night was black outside, and only the faint glow of a candle lit the room. Lydia was sitting next to me, painting her nails some outrageous color that didn’t match her dress. And I stared, watching her smile faintly at nothing in particular, wondering what was going through her mind that she could be smiling. How was she so okay? I guess it’s better than her being scared though, right? But for some twisted reason that I couldn’t understand, she was unnerving me. Me! The composed one. The calm one. The one who’s head is always on straight. But for some reason I’m freaking out. I’m not loud about it, but I think even if I were, Lydia would never notice. Maybe her blissful unawareness is how she’s so calm. But who knows. Maybe she’s just as scared as I am.
I glance at my watch, barely able to make out the time through the dark space between my bleary eyes and my wrist. 12:34 is what it reads. I have no reaction to this. My attention is forcibly focused on the weight of Lydia’s feet in my lap and how at the base of my spine I have a crick I can’t quite seem to get rid of. Another empty wine bottle lies beside me, the glasses discarded onto the floor after Lydia and I had drunk the last drop. Both of us had decided silently to lay and wait for the inevitable end that was coming for us. Wrapped in one another’s embrace, doing nothing at all but somehow having set our grief aside. I glance around the room, taking in details of things I had never noticed or just ignored. Like how the wallpaper was peeling at the corners of the room. And how the newspaper for the day before was lazily discarded on the edge of the dining room table. I got up, rousing a dozing Lydia with my movement as I walked over to the table, picking up the paper and flipping it open. I scanned the headline. IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD in bold. “Straight to the point, good for them,” I said aloud and laughed. The noise startled Lydia, because I saw her turn to stare at me, her sleepy eyes wide. And it surprised me because the world was ending and I had just laughed. I just shake my head and continue reading, the vague description of what was intended to happen not sparking my interest like I assumed it would. I sighed when I finished the final column, not out of disappointment or pity, but out of some bizarre desire to feel more pain from the knowledge that I’m going to die. I wanted to feel pain. Haha. I laugh again, this time without hesitation. It’s the end of the world, and I don’t even care.
Lydia is quiet, but it feels natural now. Like she had always been just as silent before. And for some reason, I can’t recall what she was like before. But it doesn’t bother me. "Nothing can at this point," is what I think, and when a loud thundering fills the pitch black sky, I don’t flinch. Instead I pull Lydia to me, her head pressed against my chest, and I hope she can’t hear my heart beating. In fact, it's beating so fast I’m worried I’ll die of a heart attack before the bombs can kill me. “That’d be funny," I think,”To die naturally right before the world ends.” I don’t know if I laughed or not, the noise outside drowned out everything. Even the sound of my rapidly beating heart. “The one I thought would kill me,” I said aloud. At least I think I did.
The sounds outside are growing louder, and I’m not sure how much time has passed, but I can feel Lydia shaking in my arms. I think she’s crying, and I comfort her with kind words I’m not sure she’ll hear. “Good night, Love,” I hear her say. I know she says this because the sounds are gone. The only thing I can hear are the sounds of our breaths and the beating of my own heart. I remember wishing my heart had killed me. I remember that being my last thought before everything went dark. “It was so dark the night could be my eyelids.” But that’s a dead man’s thoughts, and my words don’t matter in the end.