Reconsideration

The Wreckage

I lived a simple enough life.
I grew up in a good home, in a good town, with good people and good schooling.
I married a good man, had good children, and a good home.
I lived a good life, with good friends, and good things all around.
It was all quite good.

      Of course, that all changed when I got into an accident. I was fine, save for a few hundred dollars worth of damages and a cut or two, but the other driver was not. I had gotten out of my car to check on him, but then I realized he was dead. It was my fault, I had driven through the intersection at night while the light was red, but I was so afraid of the consequences- I left him there, with an anonymous tip to police from the pay phone on the corner. The news the next day reported a hit and run, without witnesses or CCTV recordings. I repaired my car with cash, myself buffing out some of the damages. I told my husband that I had hit an animal on the way home. Nobody knew, but me.

That was all very "good", I suppose.

    That being said, I left that night with something I hadn't really understood before then, the curse of guilt. Over the years it dug away at me. It weighed my steps a hundred pounds heavier, and made me wish I had been there a second earlier, so I wouldn't have been the one to walk out. My family  didn't understand, and neither did friends, neighbors or coworkers.

      Guilt does many things to a person. For me, it made me sick, mentally and physically. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat. I grew lethargic and tired in the years building up to my death. I considered confessing, but how could I? My children were well off, my husband content, everything was going good.

Everything was good. I promise.

   I ended up dying in another car accident, funnily enough. I fell asleep at the wheel, in broad daylight. I'm not sure if the other driver survived, but I'm sure an eight-wheeler did just fine against my shoddy sports car. I was forty seven then. And that's how I ended up here.

—-

   When I realized I was unconscious I expected to wake up in bed, my ceiling high above me. Instead I was greeted by pitch black. I wasn't lying in bed, I was on the ground, but I was comfortable enough. I took a moment to remember I had been driving on moment, and then sleeping the next. Maybe I was in a hospital? Coma? Unconscious in some way? No. I'd feel the need to breathe. I'd be hurt in some way, or euphoric from medication. I would feel something; anything but the nothing consuming my senses now. My mind flew a million miles per minute, and then it hit me. It was so simple, so obvious, how could I have missed it? I felt nothing, I don't remember getting home or parking; I couldn't see, hear, smell, or feel a thing. I was dead.

     The second I realized that the world grew lighter, and I found myself on some white slab. The stone cool under me, and the sterile environment left me thinking maybe I was wrong about death. But I felt fine, or relaxed, somehow. When I looked up I saw the most beautiful man smiling down at me. He was ethereal in the way he smiled softly, offering a hand to help me up. He reminded me of the Statue of David; he was art, and perfection in every way, as if God sculpted him Himself. It took me to realize he almost glowed, a soft golden outline following him.

    I returned his smile, and I felt a familiarity with him. Taking his warm hand in mine, I sat up,and took a moment to allow the dizziness to pass. Around me was a white room, with marble floors and large windows that showed a beautiful ocean horizon. It was all so perfect. So pristine. Even the tranquil quiet was perfect. However, after a few moments, the silence was disrupted by an even greater sound, "Welcome to the After, dear child." The mysterious man spoke, one hand still firmly holding her own, as he used his other arm to prompt me to stand. His voice was soft, and deep, as he continued on, "Welcome home."

    How was I to respond? A mere thank you could never suffice. I found myself wordless anyway, as I nodded, and choked out, "You mean it?" I was so certain if I'd go anywhere it'd be Hell. Instead he nodded, and walked me out of the room into a regal corridor. "Of course, how could I lie?" He asked me, a soft smile remaking its appearance. I took a moment, before returning my own question, "Are you an angel?" To which he nodded. I suppose I was correct- he was made in God's image. Funny that. "Why am I here?" I continued to question. I felt so young in that moment, so lost and confused and yet so comfortable and content in my ignorance. "I never went to church, and unless He's unaware, I killed someone," I confessed to the angel, but he gave me a knowing look, nodding slightly, "Here, everyone knows." He replied solemnly. His lips set into a tight line, as he led me forward.

  "Then why? Why am I here?" I pleaded, squeezing the very hand I relied on for balance. "You're where you need to be," he assured, as we headed towards a large mahogany door at the end of the corridor. We found our way into a very well lit, and tasteful parlor. I had to look away from the light streaming in from the large arched windows, which revealed a grassy beach. I thought it was peculiar that a home on the beach wouldn't face the ocean, but shrugged it off. It was gorgeous here, too gorgeous. It was unreal.

    The angel left me in there for a bit, and that was when I realized I wasn't as old as I had been at death. I was younger. When I stood up, my knees didn't protest the sudden movement, and as I approached the mirror besides the empty coat rack, I couldn't help but gasp. I looked around my late twenties, before the accident, without the severeness of guilt's effect altering my appearance for the first time in a very long time. I also noted the gown I was wearing. It reached mid shin, and was purely white, made of the lightest and softest material I'd ever felt. After marveling at the heavenliness of, well, Heaven for a few minutes, the angel returned, his smile matching my relief.

    We approached the door together, and exiting the house, I realized it's craftsmen style was an exact replica of my grandmother's home. I had never told her, but it had always my favorite place of all the places I had visited. It was completely empty here, except for a road right in front of me, that seemed to only stop at the horizon. "It's amazing," I couldn't help but whisper, smiling up at the ethereal being beside me. He chuckled, and my giddiness grew, "I would hope so," He replied with a grin, placing a hand on my shoulder, and pulling me to his side as he lead me down the porch. "You'll be down here for a while." He said casually, as a vehicle, my car, materialized on the asphalt in front of me. "Excuse me?" I asked, trying to slow his stride, of which I was successful, for just a moment. "You heard me." He replied, now right next to the car.

      "What do you mean?" I demanded, panicking now, as he opened the driver's side door. "We must all atone for our sins, now you have your chance." He stated warmly, pushing me into the vehicle, I fought him, but it was a fruitless effort. That's when I started pleading, begging him to stop or reconsider, but he never gave me the time. Like magnets, my hand stuck to the driver's wheel, and my foot glued itself to the pedal. I implored him, sobbing, "Please, for the love of God, please stop!" I pleaded. He only smiled, and replied, with a self-righteous chuckle, "He can't hear you here." After he said that, the world grew silent around us. I could feel my lungs grow strained with my inability to breathe, though I hadn't needed to breathe for the past hour beforehand.

    I thought this was Heaven. He's an angel. Angels are in heaven, aren't they? My confusion grew, as did my fear, "Who are you?" I asked. That's when his beauty was perverted. A cruel smile grew upon his face, "You, dear child, know who I am." He said, closing the car door. And that's when I remembered, from my limited exposure to Catholicism in life-

  The devil was an angel too.