The Return

Solomon Thrust stood huddled under the portico, squeezing his collars together at the throat, squinting through the mad, summer rain. An instant later and it subsided. The sun shone glossy on the pavement as sparkling tributaries poured away into the gutters and were gone. Solomon could clearly see now, the priest had pulled up and was already being helped from his car by two men, one of whom was careful to hold up a black umbrella over the old father's head at all times. The priest said something to him, and the man, seeing that the rain had stopped, closed up the umbrella and stuffed it in his coat.

They made their way over towards the door where Solomon stood. Only the priest was smiling.

"Fine day, after all," he said, with a friendly nod.

"For a funeral," said Solomon.

"Yes, that's right. I suppose a bit of solemnity is in order, after all. But it is nice, isn't it, to see the sun, after what began as such a dismal morning. Oh, look, the family has arrived. Well, it won't be long now."

"Nope. Should have him in the ground by ten o'clock, easy."

"Well that's not what I -- ," the priest now gave him a closer, more suspicious look.

"Of course, not," said Solomon, "Why don't you go ahead and find a seat, Father. I imagine the ceremony is about to begin."

"Oh, but I'm here to perform the rites, you know. After all, --"

"I'm just teasing, Father. After all, a little levity," he winked.

By now the priest's suspicions were more than confirmed. The man was not right.

"There's the boy's mother, now," said Solomon, indicating a large, stout woman standing just behind a large wreath, as though trying to remain obscured from view. Her eyes had been scrubbed raw. It was clear that her suffering was beyond tears.

"I should go to her," said the priest, almost to himself.

"You think?"

Solomon watched as the priest shook the mother's hand and patted her on the back. You could see he intended to embrace her, but, having hesitated, thought better of it, and gave her, instead, his already outstretched hand. She grabbed it like it would fall to the floor in less than a second, and rushed it to her breast. She held it there and smiled at him; a grim, miserable, pleading grin.

"He's in heaven, now. He's in heaven, Father," she whimpered desperately.

"Indeed, he is. Indeed, he is," the old man reassured her. "Singing with the angels."

"He always liked to sing."

"Singing and carrying on. Why, he's probably out riding his bike through the clouds, at this very moment, having a gay old time, while we make such a fuss over him down here."

"You think so, Father?"

"Absolutely!"

"He always liked to ride his bike."

"Well, now he can ride it up and down and all around, can't he? Yes, sir. He can ride his bike in any direction he pleases, yes he can. Up, down, and all around, I say. No roads in heaven, just open sky."

The priest was gazing into the distance, as if really seeing what he spoke of.

"Oh, I know you must be right, Father. You must be."

"That's it. Cheer up. Now let's remember him as he was. A happy boy."

"Oh, yes. He was a happy boy."

"A boy who loved and kept animals, am I right?"

"Oh, yes, Father. He loved and kept them. He had quite the collection, let me tell you. Jars all over his room. Frogs and lizards and bugs and snakes. You name it! He even brought home stray dogs and cats, though they never hung around much. I suppose he must have patched them up and sent them on their way."

"Well, that's just the kind of Christian boy he was," said the priest.

Still under the portico, rolling himself a cigarette, Solomon pulled the door closed, so as not to overhear any more of their conversation. He turned to look at the little boy who was sitting on the steps just a foot away.

"You never bothered to poke holes in those jars, so the poor creatures could breathe, did you? And what ever did happen to those stray dogs and cats," asked Solomon, licking the cigarette, twisting it up, and fitting it behind his ear.

The boy turned to look at him, then he looked all around, then back up at him. Solomon wasn't looking at him, just gazing rather absently over the grass at something across the street.

"Are you talking to me," he asked the man.

"Well, I ain't talkin' to myself."

"You can see me? Hear me?"

"Sure can."

"But nobody else can."

"Better get used to that, kid."

"What do you mean? Why can't they see me? What's going on?"

"You died, remember? You fell in the creek."

"No, I - what? I - this is a dream. A nightmare, I mean."

"You don't remember falling in?

"I never - What are you talking about?"

"Tell me what happened to the animals, Kenny."

"I - the animals? I don't remember."

"You strangled them, didn't you?"

"I - what?"

"Drowned them in the tub. Held them under by the necks."

"I - I wanted to see," said the boy.

"Yeah?" Solomon looked directly at him for the first time. The man's pupils were as red as burning coals. In fact, if you looked closely enough, it was just possible to see that they were, in fact, burning coals.

"What did you see?"

"I -"

They were silent for a few moments.

"Your eyes...," began the boy.

"Nevermind my eyes. You'll know soon enough what they see. First, I want you to tell me what you saw. I think you can remember just fine."

"I don't want to remember," said the child.

"Why not? It was the most fun you ever had."

"I drowned them, yes. But -"

"You strangled them. You held them under as they struggled."

"Yes, I remember now, but -"

"You tied them into garbage bags full of rocks and dropped them in the creek."

"I dropped them, yes, but-"

"Over the side of the bridge. And you sang a song."

"I did, yes, but-"

"You always did like to sing."

"You don't understand."

"What was the name of the song?"

"The song? I don't - I don't remember."

"But you do. Of course you do. The song. Your favorite song."

"I don't - I can't remember."

"Come, I'll sing it for you."

"Please don't."

Solomon cleared his throat. He was really enjoying this. But, then, he always loved his job.

"'Hush little baby, don't say a word.'"

"Stop it!" the boy shouted, springing up from the steps.

"Do you remember what happened to the baby? Your little sister?"

"She - she fell in."

"She followed you. She saw what you did. She screamed."

"I -"

"You covered her mouth. You filled it with pine needles, dirt, and dead leaves."

"I told her not to scream. I told her."

 "That's right, you remember now. She choked to death."

"I did, I know. But you don't understand."

"And then you dumped her over the side, just like the animals."

"The animals..." recalled the boy, absently.

"The dogs and cats."

"I killed them."

"Yes, you did."

"And I killed her."

"And then you fell in, too, didn't you?"

"I slipped. My foot got twisted and I fell."

"You died."

"I - Are you sure?"

Solomon smiled.

"But it's not what you think," the boy protested. "I was - Something was wrong with me. My mind was sick or something. I feel different now. Really. I don't know why I wanted to do those bad things, I really don't. I don't feel that way any more."

"Are you sorry?"

"I am. I'm so sorry. I wish I could go back and change everything."

"Can't do that, kid."

"No, I guess not. But what happens now?"

"Why don't you go find a good seat? Your funeral's about to begin."

"My funeral? What about..."

"Don't worry, kid. It's just like this for a while. First, it takes a little time to remember. Then, once you remember, you can start to forget. That takes time, too. But you're already past the remembering part. So don't sweat it. You did good."

"I don't understand. Why was I sick? Why did I do those things?"

"That's just what happens down there, kid."

"Well, then, why did I go down there?"

"Beats me. I guess you thought you were hot shit, with your free will."

"Huh?"

"Not as free as you thought you were, though, eh?"

"Um -"

"Take my advice, kid. Earth is overrated. Try staying up here for a while."

"Up here? But this is my house."

Suddenly, house and portico, steps and door, and the whole neighborhood were pulled right out from under them and instantly lost from view. They tumbled in space for a minute or two.

"Isn't this nice,' asked Solomon.

"It's pretty cool," said the kid.

"See that?" Solomon was pointing to some brilliant, emerald and pink constellation in the distance. "They'll take care of you there. Just keep on that way and don't look back. You'll be fine."

"What about you?"

"I've got work to do, kid. You lost souls can't find your way back here on your own, you know."

And he swiftly disappeared.

But Kenny kept on, as he was told, tumbling towards the magnificent constellation. As he grew closer, it seemed to expand and become increasingly immense. A feeling of unimaginable love began to permeate his being, as if he were suddenly coming in from the cold, to sit by a warm fireside. Though he had never even realized how cold and brutal his former environment had been, he was quick to appreciate the contrast. This place was unfamiliar, and, yet, somehow, this was home.

A moment later, and he began to remember.

This had always been home.