## CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Blank Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Some Die Just To Live

Jennifer Gulbrandsen

Brand Media - Publishing Pen - Peacock Press

Atlanta - Chicago - San Diego

Copyright ©2018 Jennifer Gulbrandsen

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronical process, or in the form of a phonographic recording; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or otherwise be copied for public or private use — otherwise

ISBN: 9781730784866

ISBN-13: 9781730784866

This book is dedicated to a damn good human.

Thank you for breathing life into me, believing in me, and giving me the confidence to make this book and so many other things possible. You showed me that men can be heroes and help us put the pieces back together for those of us who have been shattered. In Adam, you will be immortal. As you will always be for me.

I hope I wrote you well.

My love and gratitude forever.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to the biographies of those living or dead is purely coincidental.

No part of this manuscript mat be shared, quoted, or reproduced via print or other forms of media without the expressed written consent of the author or Publishing Pen, Inc.

For more information on the author of this book, including media and interview inquiries, please visit jennifergulbrandsen.com

## CHAPTER ONE

##

My name is Sydney Daniels.  
I died on a Tuesday.

We've all had those moments when we sit and reflect on how it's going to be when we die. Most of the time, we're imagining ourselves as an elderly person getting ready to go off into that gentle goodnight with generations of our offspring holding our hands as we drift into a calming white light to meet a spouse or other loved ones who have preceded us in death. Other times, we have nightmares of intruders, murder, and other horrific ways of meeting our demise. We may even fantasize about suicide during those excruciating moments of pain in our lives when we feel we simply can't make it in this world another second.

We never ever think of dying in the most mundane, everyday kind of way. I didn't go out in a blaze of glory, die of some tragic illness, or of old age. I died because I _self-destructed_.

Not something you contemplate when you think about death, perhaps, because it lacks the romance or drama we train ourselves to believe. But that's exactly what happened; I died a careless wino indulging in a night of glorious and spectacular self pity.

I then learned that sometimes you have to die just to live.

This is my story.

The moment everything becomes crystal clear in your own reality, you experience a rage so white-hot the sensation of blood leaving your body and a humming in your brain is the only thing you feel. You don't even take a breath to rationalize what is happening, or admonish yourself as the handwriting on the wall becomes so evident; it's a virtual neon sign of every red flag you shouldn't have missed.

For me, this happened in a room full of about two-hundred people at one of the largest conferences our company hosts every year. I, as the Director of Operations for Southwest Dynamics, was responsible for giving the welcome and introduction to the crowd, and then introducing my boyfriend, Scott Thompson, our illustrious Vice President of Sales.

Except, I was approaching the podium looking out into the crowd, when I saw him. Scott, the man I had just made love to in my hotel room not an hour beforehand where we exchanged sincere I love yous, planned our future once his divorce was final, because you know... _it's never actually a good time to pull the trigger, Sydney. The kids. Think of the kids. Just be patient. It's only a little while longer. Yes, Denise will be here tonight, but it's just for show. She's horrible, Sydney, I can barely stand her, but we have to keep up appearances. Being around her makes me so grateful to have you. Someone who cares. She's just so distant and frigid...I haven't changed, she has..._

This conversation only an hour old, and fresh in my mind, played in my head as I gazed into the crowd before beginning my speech and saw Scott nuzzling a very cuddly and hardly frigid looking Denise. This was the first time I had ever laid eyes on her, though I had seen her picture on Scott's desk everyday over the last two years. The smiling, bubbly-looking, All-American blonde beaming back to the world with her two little boys behind the glass of a picture frame. The woman making a family miserable, was right there before my eyes, gazing adoringly at her husband, looking like a proud and supportive wife. And Scott looked anything but long suffering and miserable.

The realization was jarring. It was all bullshit. The last two years of my life had been _bullshit_. The yo-yo between hope, loneliness, and pain that the man I loved and was building a life with could never be with me. I had to numb it with enough alcohol to put down a rhino when my suffering outweighed the good. I lived for the workweek when I would slip into his office and shut the door, and I'd listen to him complain about his life at home for hours, or succumb to our attraction.

Those lonely nights I spent alone in my house while Scott was home with his family, I would drink and tell myself that I wasn't just the other woman. I am not a home wrecker. You can't wreck a happy home. You can't steal a man that doesn't want to be stolen. I wasn't a mistress, he said he loved me every single day.

The justifications were the drop of water at the bottom of a dry well I kept myself alive with. But as I stood there about to take that podium, with these two enemies before me who were behaving like a happily married couple... the justifications gave way to truths.

We had never shared a meal other than lunch together.

I had never spent time with him after 6pm.

We never spent the night together.

I was a mistress.

He would never leave her.

I was being played for a fool this whole time. Scott wasn't the sainted victim who needed saving I had built him up to be. Scott was a lying, cheating, self-serving sonofabitch, and I was done with this charade. He had a brunette by day and a blonde by night, while I saved his career.

Pig.

Done.

The rage coursing through my veins was so hot, it was like I was having an out of body experience. I wasn't sure what I was going to do. My inner dialogue was coaching me to get through my little welcome and introduction, introduce Scott, run to my car, go home and spend as many days drunk and hiding as possible before I had to face this stunning new reality.

I smiled to the crowd, stepped up to the podium, took a deep breath, and began:

"Good afternoon everyone, I am Sydney Daniels, the Director of Operations here at Southwest Dynamics. I want to welcome you all, and thank you for coming to this year's conference. It is wonderful to meet and share ideas with leaders of the industry," ok, so far so good. Exactly as rehearsed, on script, and nobody knows I can't feel my physical body.

"Before we begin this afternoon's breakout sessions, I'd like to introduce our Vice President of Sales, the man I've been having an affair with for the last two years, and after seeing him with his wife over there, I realize that I have been an idiot, and I'm sorry if this embarrasses you, Denise, but you should really divorce him and take him to the cleaners because he is not a good man."

The audible gasp in the room jolted me back to reality, and the first person I made eye-contact with was Adam, the general counsel for our company. Adam was the closest thing I had to a friend in this world, and while I always wondered why he was always buzzing around me like a fly, at least that would end as he saw me burn myself, the man I supposedly loved, and my career to the ground. Most people don't want to be friends with an insane person prone to public displays of said insanity.

We locked eyes, and as the air left the room, because no one knew what to say, I could see Adam making his way through the sea of stunned onlookers to me standing and gripping the podium for dear life as I began to tremble and feared my knees buckling out from underneath me.

Adam reached me just as I felt my ability to stand on my own give way. Quickly, I felt an arm around my waist steadying me.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, I am Adam Miller, the general counsel here at Southwest Dynamics. Why don't we just go ahead and grab some refreshments and head to our breakout sessions. You guys don't want to listen to a bunch of speeches, anyway. Thank you." He kept a firm hold of me as he whisked me off the stage and into the hallway as the crowd began to buzz. The second we reached the safety of the backstage hallway, my right mind returned, and I burst into tears.

Adam immediately took me into his arms and smoothed the top of my head as I imprinted rivers of eyeliner and mascara on his white Brooks Brothers shirt. He smelled like Ivory soap, starched cotton, and deodorant.

"Shhhh, you're fine, you're fine," he said gently, still patting me on the head, "On the bright side? We don't even need a marketing department anymore, because you made sure no one will ever forget Southwest Dynamics."

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck!" I wailed into his shirt and sobbed harder.

"Shhhh, you know what Andy Warhol said, 'there's no such thing as bad press' or something, sounds right, but look," he said peeling me off his chest and looking into my eyes, "We all have a breaking point. Breaking points aren't pretty. Welcome to the human race. I'm glad to see you're really not a robot."

"I'm fired, aren't I?"

"I don't think so," he answered, "There's a lot of things to unpack before that happens. What you need to do now is go home, get in the fetal position, order enough takeout for fifteen people, and cry this out. Get drunk, howl at the sky, and use every sick and vacation day you've accrued not taking a sick or vacation day in two years. When that's done, you'll be able to think, and we can make a plan. Come on," he said putting his arm around me and walking me toward the exit, "Let's grab your stuff and get you home."

As we were walking, we heard a loud slamming noise behind us.

"What. The. Fuck. Sydney?!" Scott came barrelling down the hallway towards Adam and I, his own rage palpable, "What the fuck were you thinking? Have you lost your fucking mind? Jesus Christ! Do you have any idea what this does to me, my family, my career? God damnit, Sydney! How can you be so reckless with my life!" he shouted.

Adam got between us to stop him in his tracks before he got to me. Scott looked like a madman unhinged. His cobalt blue eyes wild with rage, shoulders postured like he was ready to punch anyone, anything, probably me, and a primal tone to his voice that didn't reflect pain, only fear.

"Whoa, Scott, you need to calm down, turn around, and go out there, and I don't know, comfort your wife, maybe?" Adam moved toward Scott, putting his hand out toward his chest, not touching Scott, but letting him know it was a possibility, and it was enough to make him start walking backwards toward the ballroom.

"Not until I talk to Sydney!" he yelled looking at me over Adam's head. He was much bigger than Adam, but Adam wasn't backing down.

"No, Scott, you will not. Sydney also matters in this, and so does Denise. Denise is actually your problem, and you left her in a room full of people after what just happened. Sydney is going home, taking some time off, and when she is ready, we will have plenty of time to discuss _your_ career, _your_ family, and how all of this affects _you_. _"_

Scott made brief eye contact with Adam and then returned his eyes to mine. His stare now cold, "Fuck. You. Sydney. If you want to know why you've been on the hook for two years, it's because you let yourself. This is on you."

Now Adam had his hands on Scott turning him around, "Ok, I really don't want to have to add to the show by kicking your ass, but you really are done here. Go take care of Denise. I'll call you in the morning."

Scott stalked the rest of the way to the ballroom door and threw it open with so much force, it didn't close behind him, and about a hundred people were gaping at us through the doorway.

Show's not over yet, folks.

Adam turned his back on the crowd, made his way to me, and hurried me out the nearest exit.

"I don't have my stuff," I cried.

"I'll bring it by in the morning. You have your phone. I'll give you my credit card for whatever you need tonight. Right now, I really need to get you out of here."

I didn't protest and got into his car.

I lived about twenty minutes away, and half the ride was spent in awkward silence except for the navigation telling Adam where to turn. He finally decided the quiet was too much for both of us, and spoke up.

"Look, I just want you to know I am not judging you for any of this. It really was the worst kept secret in the office. Most of us already knew."

"Yeah," I replied quietly, "But I'm the woman, and I'm the home wrecker. I'll be labeled the enchanting seductress that wanted to blow up a family."

Adam quietly chuckled, "No. We actually think you're a wizard. That Scott you saw in the hallway? That's the real Scott. You might love him, but he's a fucking dick. You made him the best him he's probably ever been. It's like you're the jackass whisperer."

I gave a silent sad chuckle.

He pulled the car into my driveway, putting it in park and turned to look at me, "Hey, I know he said this is on you, but it really isn't. This is on _him_. You didn't lie to anyone. You didn't make promises you had no intention of keeping, and you didn't wreck a family. He wrecked a family. When you think about it, all he's done for the last two years is lie to everyone around him about everything. You simply showed up, did your job, made him look good, and fell in love with him along the way. You saw something good in him, or you wanted to fix the broken parts of him. It happens. I see no reason why you don't take a few weeks, and walk back into that office with your head held high. You'll be surprised how many people will take up for you. Besides, I don't want to be the lawyer in the room right now, but I'm kind of the lawyer in the room right now, and he's a bit cooked because you are his subordinate."

I started crying again, "I'll resign. I don't want anything else to happen to him. I should have handled things better."

Adam shrugged and looked out his window, "I don't know. One day I'll tell you stories about Scott pre-Sydney. I think just desserts were served tonight. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. But you have to promise me one thing. Just one."

"What's that?"

"No decisions for at least three weeks. And don't fucking talk to him."

"That's two promises," I said.

"Shit. Fine. Talk to him if you have to, but I hope you know now the only thing he's good at is lying. So grain of salt and all of that," he said returning his gaze to me.

The moment of silence we shared was pregnant with an odd tension. Like he wanted to do and say more, but he was censoring himself.

"Hey, I didn't even think about it, but can you get into your house?" He asked.

"Yeah... there's a keypad."

"Cool. Do you want me to walk you in and spend a few minutes with you before I go?" He asked, "I'd understand if you didn't want to be alone right away. I have nowhere to be besides a mindnumbingly boring breakout session about mergers and acquisitions."

"No, but thank you," I sighed, "I actually just want to be alone tonight."

"Understood," he reached for his wallet, "You have your phone, but here's a credit card to get yourself some food tonight. Whatever is going to make you feel better until tomorrow is on me. Just no traceable weapons or hitmen."

I managed a brief laugh, "You really don't have to, Adam. I'll be okay."

"Can you please just take it? It makes me feel useful. You will hurt my feelings if you don't."

I took the card from him, "Thank you so much for tonight, Adam. You didn't have to be so kind. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"No thanks needed. You would have done the same for me. I'll call you in the morning to get your things and your car. If you need anything just call."

I opened the car door, pausing before I got out, "Thank you again, Adam."

"Take care, Sydney."

Two days after the 'incident' I was laying in my dark living room staring at the ceiling. I had been drinking steadily during every waking hour and stunned into a wakeful comatosed state. The sweats and bathrobe I had put on when Adam dropped me off that night were still on, and I wasn't sure I had picked up a hair or toothbrush since. Adam and his assistant brought my car and belongings over the next morning, but since then, I had gone completely off the radar and into the bottom of several bottles.

I saw headlights reflect off my ceiling as a car pulled into the driveway. I had lost all concept of time. I just knew the sun had gone down.

A car door closed, and I heard a gentle knocking at my front door. My heart fluttered a bit hoping it was Scott, as I jumped up, took a swig out of the room temperature glass of wine on my coffee table, and made my way to the door.

When I swung it open, I'm sure disappoinment was all over my face.

"Oh hi, Adam," I said with a crestfallen note to my voice.

Adam stood there smiling as always, carrying a pizza and a six pack of beer. I had never noticed how kind his soft brown eyes were until this moment. Adam wasn't the Greek god athletic specimen Scott was, but he was handsome in his own right. Average height, strong build, a twinkle in his eye, and dimples. His smile was infectious and went all the way to the top of his face, making his eyes crescent shape in little smiles of their own. I managed a half smile when I noticed this. It wasn't Scott, but it was good to have a friend after this fiasco who seemed to care whether or not I lived or died. It's not like Scott was calling or showing up.

"Hey Sydney!" he said brightly, "I haven't heard from you in the last couple of days, so I came over to validate proof of life." He held up the pizza and the beer, "I have also brought rations."

I backed away from the door and motioned him in, "Yeah, come in," I said patting down my wild hair and smoothing out my ratty clothes, "Sorry I look like shit."

"It would be weird if you didn't look like shit," he said brightly as he walked into the living room and set the pizza and beer on the coffee table, "wallowing in the dark is normal."

I noticed him looking around for a light to turn on, and I hurried over to flip the switch. The room lit up, showing a groove on the couch where my body had been for however many hours.

"Yeah, definitely not my best moment," I sighed self consciously.

"Nope, but not your worst, either," he laughed while cracking open a beer and handing it to me, "I brought pepperoni. Hope that's ok."

He moved the blanket I had been using as a cocoon over, and sat on the couch, opening the pizza box and grabbing a slice. I sheepishly sat next to him, and took a drink.

"So did you come over here to fire me?" I asked.

Adam swallowed his bite of pizza, "Nope. For one, I don't have that kind of power, and for two, you're not getting fired. Like I said, Syd, you'd be surprised by how many people are taking up for you right now. You had a moment. That's gonna be talked about for the rest of this week, because it was spectacular and probably the most exciting thing any of those people have witnessed in a decade, but after that? Everyone will be on to the next thing. You didn't exactly slay a saint of a man up there."

I sighed and grabbed a slice of pizza, choking down the first bite. It was probably the first thing I had eaten in days.

"Has Scott been in the office?" I asked.

Adam shrugged, "Yep. He's been there. I take it he hasn't reached out to you. Although, your phone seems to be off all the time, so maybe he has."

"No," I said quietly, "He hasn't. How has he been at the office?"

Adam finished his slice and cracked open his own beer. Then he rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, "Scott's been well... _Scott_. Water off a duck's back. Teflon. He's rubber, you're glue... I'm out of analogies. Same insufferable dickwad he's always been."

"Everything's okay at home? Did Denise throw him out?" I asked.

"If Denise wanted to throw him out, it would have happened long before you, kiddo."

Wincing, I set my pizza down on the lid of the box, and took a long drink of my beer.

"I'm sorry, that was the wrong thing to say," Adam said quietly.

"No, the truth is good. I need to hear it. Why do you hate him so much?" I asked.

"Because he's that guy who makes sociopathy, entitlement, and good looks work for him. He spends his whole life tripping and falling into one success or failure at a time, but manages to charm his way right out of it, so people only remember his successes, which aren't really his because he just leverages other people's talent and adds his name on the project at the end. He's that kid in school who didn't do shit on a group project, but also got the A. He crosses the line so many times, I fix it, and he never learns because I fix it. I get paid to fix it, so it's a never ending cycle. An unwanted advance on a female coworker is because of her skirt length, not because he's an asshat with entitlement and boundary issues who can't hold his liquor."

I finished my beer and grabbed another, "Well, he was never a pig to me."

"Hmmm," Adam grunted.

"What?"

"Nothing," he hesitated, then changed the subject, "So are you doing anything besides wallowing? Take up any new hobbies? Knitting? Voodoo dolls?"

"Drinking," I said.

"I think its safe to say that can be filed under wallowing, and not filed under 'new hobbies'," he said.

"You told me to wallow, Adam."

He smiled, "That I did. And you should for a minute, just don't unpack and live there. Scott didn't earn that."

Adam finished his beer, collected my empty bottle, the pizza box, and went into the kitchen. I stayed on the couch nursing my beer while I heard him throw the bottles away and put the box in the fridge.

He stood awkwardly in the living room, and that weird energy was in the room again, like he wanted to say more, but was holding himself back. This time, the courage of alcohol made me call him out on it.

"There it is again," I said looking at him.

"What?"

"That weird energy. Like when you were bringing me home. There's something you want to say, but you're stopping yourself."

"Yes. There's a lot I want to say. But now is not the time. You also don't seem like you're up for much conversation just yet," he replied.

"I feel like you hate me for loving him," I said.

He sighed and walked back over to the couch, sitting next to me again, "It's frustrating, but I also understand that love doesn't always make sense. We love who we love for our own reasons. It's hard for me to watch the good get destroyed and the bad dust themselves off and keep going."

"Have you talked to him at all?"

"Yes. We talked briefly today," he answered.

"About me?"

"Yes."

"Like?"

Adam groaned, leaning back against the cushions and rubbing his eyes.

"Well, I didn't come in here thinking he was a great guy, did I?"

I set my now empty second bottle of beer on the table, and picked up my lukewarm wine, "No, you didn't."

Adam grabbed the remote and snapped the TV on, "Let's change the subject for a while and watch a dumb movie. Keep drinking if you have to, but let's take a two hour break from the black hole, huh?"

"Ok," I said pulling my knees up to my chest.

We settled on the classic _Don't Tell Mom The Babysitter's Dead_ , and spent the whole time quoting lines from the movie while making fun of a young David Duchovny. Adam was right, it was good to have a break in my downward spiral for a little while.

When the movie ended, he glanced at his watch, patted me on the knee, and stood up.

"I'd love to stay and do another one, but I have a brutal 8am meeting tomorrow going over riveting things like contracts with a fine toothed comb, so I better be on my way home. You good?" his smiling eyes looked down on me.

I smiled back, "Good? That's opitimistic. Let's put it at a hard maybe."

"Maybe is a state of being now?" he laughed.

"It's fitting."

"Ok, well you just keep maybeing it up in here, and I'll text you tomorrow. Just text me a crying emoji or something so I know you're still alive. Send an airplane if you've decided to skip town, and a dollar sign if bail money is needed."

"Will do," I said standing up to walk him to the front door, "Hey, thank you again for everything, Adam. You really don't have to be this kind."

He gave me a brotherly hug goodbye and kissed the top of my head before ruffling my hair, "Who says I'm being kind? See you later, kiddo."

I watched him out the front door and into his car. When I heard the engine turn over, I waived good-bye and closed the door. I turned back and looked into the now dimly lit living room that wasn't esconced in sorrow for the last couple of hours.

If only I could string moments like this together forever. I might actually be okay.

## CHAPTER TWO

##

**ADAM**

The next couple of weeks of watching Sydney self-destruct was the first time I actually understood what 'circling the drain' meant. She was using alcohol and whatever else she could find to simultaneously numb the pain, and feel something at the same time. I never knew which Sydney I would encounter when I went to check on her. Rage Sydney? Despondent Sydney? Resilient Sydney? Hopeful Sydney? Catatonic Sydney? Passed Out Sydney?

My only hope was that she'd ride out this storm long enough to get through to the other side. At this point, I think she was only showering a couple of times a week, and never really left her bathrobe. Her only trips out of her house were to the liquor store. She had probably lost twenty pounds since the ballroom showdown with Scott, and the woman most would call beautiful, was a shell of her former self. Her long brunette locks ratty and piled on top of her head, her large almond shaped almost black eyes had no light or life left to them, and her once perfectly volumptuous body had become a vessel for skin and bones under a cape of terrycloth. She had become a shell of a human being. My heart broke a little more every time I saw her.

Circling the drain. It was now a person I knew. Not just a figure of speech.

Scott on the other hand, as most sociopaths are wont to do, walked around like the peacock he was, and demonized Sydney to anyone who would listen. The new narrative went from Sydney as savior to Sydney as calculating, homewrecking, _Fatal Attraction_ wannabe.

What I didn't tell Sydney, was how repugnant the man she loved really was after the incident.

"I mean, I was scared man!" I heard him campaigning to some of our colleagues gathered in the common area the first time everyone was back in the office after Sydney's meltdown, "It was a mistake, an indescretion, a moment of weakness. I mean, we were drunk, and _she_ came on to _me_ , man! She was crazy. I was afraid that if I didn't entertain her, I'd have a boiled bunny on my stove, if you know what I mean!" he ended, the only one vociferously laughing at his feeble attempt at humor, justification, and deflection.

Rolling my eyes, I made my way over to the common area, and waived to everyone who looked grateful for my appearance in order to stop their uncomfortable audience with the Vice President of Sales trying to save face and make the Director of Operations look like an obsessed pyschopath.

Scott turned his attention to me, "Hey there, Adam! Just the man I wanted to see, you got a minute?"

"Sure I guess," I shrugged, taking a sip of my coffee, "Your office or mine?"

"Let's head over to my office," he motioned, and I followed him down the short hallway into his office. It was what you'd expect a guy like Scott's office to look like. Basically, a room of overcompensation. Ostentatious wood desk I'm not sure he's done any work at in at least five years, big screen TV mounted on the wall tuned to the most conservative cable news network on the planet, signed college gameball encased in glass he probably bought on Ebay, oversized leather couch I didn't want to think about when it came to activities that might have occured on it, and an array of family pictures in silver frames on his credenza.

Once we reached his office, Scott plopped in his executive desk chair, leaned back, and propped his feet on his desk, motioning to the two chairs on the other side, "Have a seat, man!"

"Nah, I'll stand. So what do you want to talk about Scott? Hang on, let me go close the door."

Once the door clicked shut, I turned around to face him. He was that guy who got away on being handsome and affable; the most dangerous kind of guy. I wanted to shake Sydney for thinking a doofus like this ever deserved her love.

Scott ran his fingers through his thick dark hair, and let out a sigh, "So, how deep are we in the shit over this Sydney thing. What's she asking for, a large severence? I'm sure the board will sign off on whatever is standard. Three months salary? Six?"

"Well, as far as I know, Sydney is simply taking a leave of absence and using her accrued vacation time, but I'm not HR."

"Ha!" Scott guffawed, "So you're fucking her now? I always thought you were kind of sweet on her, you two talk for hours about nothing, I don't get it, but whatever, she's dynamite in the sack, am I right?"

I could feel my heart accelerate as I tried to hold my tongue. God, this guy is the most punchable man on the planet. Nothing like a 45-year old frat boy acting like the Director of Operations for a major corporation was a fling in Cancun. I hated this guy, Syndey aside.

I hate this guy.

Ninety percent of my job as lead counsel was clearing up Scott's shenanigans. The board kept him around because he was a charmer who could sell an igloo to a guy in Palm Springs. Liars without a conscience have their usefulness, I guess. As long as he kept making the company money, I would have to spend my life fixing everything he fucked up.

"I don't think it's appropriate for you nor I to discuss Sydney right now," I began, counting backwards from ten in my head so I didn't lunge across the desk and punch this guy in his perfectly chiseled jaw.

"Ha! I knew it! You're f-u-c-k-i-n-g. You must feel like a million bucks banging the head cheerleader!" he threw his head back and laughed.

Seriously, this guy is permanently seventeen and stuck in the early 90's, I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him. Not that he noticed. Being self involved is a full-time job.

"Scott, as the company's lawyer, I have to tell you that anything else said about Sydney to anyone here, even me, is not a good idea."

This snapped him out of his locker room frame of mind. He sat up, put his feet on the floor, and leaned on his elbows, "She's going to sue?" he asked with a new seriousness in his tone.

"I don't know," I answered, "See, the thing is Scott, you two did have a sexual relationship, and you are her superior as a Vice President. Consenual or not, it's a problem. She could have continued to see you because she felt her job depended on it."

"Oh that's bullshit!" Scott protested.

I ignored him, just to keep the conversation focused on the issue at hand. Him shutting up.

"Look, Sydney as far as I know, hasn't made any plans beyond using her vacation time. She would be fully entitled to return to her job if she decided that's what she wanted," I began.

"After what she pull—"

I held up my hand to interrupt him, "She didn't _pull_ anything. She's been a good employee for years, and the incident at the conference would be the first blemish against that. The company would have to prove her behavior cost them business, which I'm pretty sure it hasn't. So please, stop talking about it. The best thing for you to do right now, is to be quiet and simply wait to see what she wants to do, okay? You dragging her through the mud at the copy machine is not making you look like much of a victim."

Scott sat there glaring at me without saying a word. I raised my coffee cup to him and made my way to the door, "Off the record, I think you should focus on things at home and your day to day here. You're sales, she's operations. Your job responsibilities don't intersect with hers, so I don't see a problem. Just stop talking about it."

I opened the door and walked out.

I hate this guy.

**Syndey**

I was not doing well.

I couldn't get the last two years out of my head. I just sat, drank, popped pills, and stared into the middle distance trying to remember every moment I had with Scott. His handsome face, thick dark hair, broad shoulders, his nakedness, our passion, the sweet moments when he would declare me his savior and shower me with affection. The moments he said he loved me. The hours I sat there listening to him lament about how miserable he was at home, and how he was just trying to come up with the best exit strategy that would hurt everyone the least. How perfect I was for him compared to Denise. He loved me. He said it all the time.

I wrestled with how it could have all been a total lie. When I got drunk enough to get up the courage, I creeped Denise's social media accounts. This was a woman clearly smitten with her husband and family. Or was that a lie, too? Don't we all curate the best form of ourselves on social media, anyway?

I noticed a Valentine's Day post of hers from a couple of years ago. They're both beaming for the camera, cheek to cheek, and she wrote an entire paragraph gushing about how he was the best husband and father God could have given to her.

Seven days after she posted that, Scott and I had sex on his desk in his office after a late lunch out. It was truly one of those things that just, 'happened.' Chemistry, loneliness, attraction; suddenly, I'm naked on top of his desk with a pen digging into my shoulder blades.

Good husband. Wonderful provider.

"My God, Denise, you are a dumb bitch," I said to my phone screen.

"Who's a dumb bitch?" Adam asked as he walked through the front door, scaring the everloving shit out of me. I screamed, and the phone fell from my hand.

"What the hell, Adam? You just let yourself in now?"

"No. I've been trying to call and text you all day, but your phone was on do not disturb. I'm only here because you didn't answer, and when I got here, your front door was wide open."

"I'm inviting a murder," I replied dryly.

Adam was suddenly serious, "Don't joke about that. Don't ever joke about that. It's not cute, and it's not funny. My sister was murdered," he dropped what looked like a bag of takeout on the coffee table. Embarrassed, I pulled my robe around me and curled my knees up to my chest on the couch.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, "I had no idea."

"I know," his usual gentle tone returning, "It was almost twenty years ago. Random home invasion. They never caught her killer. So, I'm sensitive about things like women who live alone leaving their front doors wide open."

"I understand. I'm sorry, Adam," I said.

"It's fine. I brought you some food. I know you're down for the count with all of this, and I let you have your unraveling, but it's been two weeks, and you're starting to worry me."

I was drunk. Drunk people take everything as a personal affront, and I could feel anger bubbling up inside me, but I felt bad for the murder joke, so I let him keep talking.

"Sydney, you're drunk. It's 5:30pm on a Tuesday, and you are lit. I think that bathrobe has fused to your body, and you've lost at least fifteen pounds. That's just what I see when I stop by."

"So stop showing up," I snapped back tersely, "I never asked for you to be my babysitter, so I don't know what kind of savior complex you're acting out going through the drive thru and showing up here every other night, but you don't get to lecture me. I am not your responsibility."

Adam sighed defeatedly, "I know you didn't ask for me to look out for you. I'm not acting out some kind of savior complex, it just seems like you don't have anyone, or you've shut them out. Quite honestly, Sydney, you're falling apart, and it's getting to the point where I'm very scared for you. So I can't just walk away."

"Maybe you need to walk away, Adam. If I want to self destruct, you should let me. No amount of pop-ins and pep talks are going to stop the inevitable," I lobbed back in the meanest drunk way possible. I reached for the wine bottle on the coffee table and drained the rest of it into my glass.

Adam let out an incredulous chuckle and crossed his arms in front of his chest, "Scott Thompson is worth your self-destruction? Has he called you? A text? Anything?"

"He would have if I didn't make it impossible with what I did," I said between sips of wine, "I pushed him away and caused all of this. All I had to do was be patient. He loves me, and he was going to leave her."

"Sydney, do you think you were the first or last to go through this with him? Let me tell you, by my count, you're at least number seven. Congratulations for being the one who stuck around the longest and brought the best out in him, but you are not special, or the love of his life. You ever think for a minute that if he loved you, he'd even put you in that position? What man tells a woman he loves her, then tells her to suck it up and wait while he goes home and fucks his wife and whoever else is available?"

I stood up and looked him in the eye. He wasn't much taller than me, but he still managed to have a quiet power about him. I'd break him. Watch.

"You ever think for a minute I put _myself_ in that position? You ever think that's what _I_ wanted? That I was willing to wait? I loved him enough to wait? I'm a grown ass woman, and I fully participated knowing what was happening."

"No you didn't," he pressed, "You were expecting the villanous gargoyle wife to be there that day. The monster he painted her out to be. I'm sure he told you she didn't get him like you did. They weren't intimate anymore, and you checked all the boxes of the things he was missing and you were the love he needed... but the time isn't right. Just wait, Sydney. I'll fuck you and make you feel like a princess, but only during daylight hours. You knew it wasn't true. You _knew_. That's why you burned it to the ground. Deep down, you _knew_ you deserved better than that. You know Scott Thompson is a lying weasel. You knew he had no problem whatsoever having the best of both worlds. And you're not killing yourself over some great love lost. You're killing yourself because you knew you were a damn fool and you feel stupid and embarrassed for yourself. Guess what, Sydney? No one cares. No one thinks you're stupid. So start getting over it, because you are going to look stupid if you throw your life away for him."

"Fuck you, Adam!" I yelled.

"You're mad at me because I'm right. You're not sitting here missing Scott. You did what you did because you saw the handwriting on the wall. He's a lout, and you fell for every mistress line ever fed to the side piece since the dawn of ages, including, 'baby I love you.' If he were a good man, Sydney? He would also wait. He would acknowledge his feelings for you, but _not_ make a move. He would let you live your life while he tended to his, and only make a move on you when his affairs were settled and he was free and clear. Love is not entrapment, Sydney. You're sitting here in a ratty bathrobe, not seeing anything but the bottom of a glass for the last two weeks, because you know you were a slave to Scott's narcisistic supply. He doesn't and didn't love you. He loved how big and bad you made him _feel_. He loved having his dick and his ego stroked—"

"GET OUT!!!" I screamed hurling my wine glass at the wall. Its shattering the only thing louder than my voice, "You know what this is, Adam? It's fucking jealousy! You're just jealous that it was him and not you! And why is that, Adam? Why. It's because if I wanted a loyal companion following me around everywhere, and being firmly up my ass every second of the day, I'd buy a goddamned dog! Now get the fuck out of my house! Now! You don't know shit!"

"Fine, I'm leaving. But first let me tell you one thing. Love isn't all of this combativeness and passion you seem to feed off of. Love is showing up. Love is hanging in there when someone is at their worst. Showing up when you're scared and dying inside when you see that person being stupid and ruining their life. Over the last two years, you and I have talked more in a singular week than you and Scott probably ever did over the entire time you've known each other. I know you're afraid of the dark. I know you love thunderstorms, and your favorite movie is _Caddyshack_. You suck at golf, you're the funniest person I know, you're kind, intelligent, and I also know you don't believe any of that about yourself. I also know that pieces of shit like Scott do not deserve a Sydney Daniels. Ever. You take your coffee with extra cream and one yellow packet, and I never ever made a move on you, because I respect you, goddamnit. I show up. Your friendship means more to me than getting my dick wet. And if it were to ever happen, I'd want Sydney Daniels as herself. Not as a Scott consolation prize or because you were on the rebound. But you'll never see how someone can love and respect you, because you can't fucking respect yourself. So until you do, your life will be an endless merry go round of Scotts and benders. If that's what you want? I'll leave you to it. Love isn't possesion, Sydney. You're not a trophy to be won."

"Get out," I responded. This time barely audible. I stood there shaking. I couldn't look at him.

"Fine. I'll go. I brought you a number four, no onions, extra mayo. Call Scott and see what he brings you. My guess is it goes straight to voicemail, because you became an afterthought the second you stopped being useful to him and brought inconvenience his way."

I squeezed my eyes shut to keep tears from escaping and I heard him stomp off, the front door slam, and the beep of him hitting the lock button. Then I heard a car door, engine, and his car driving off.

Fuck you, Adam.

You don't know me.

When Adam left, I sat in the dwindling daylight dimly illuminating my living room. It was the perfect visual companion to what I was feeling inside. I wasn't even sure _what_ I was feeling inside, other than this buzzing sort of numb filled with anger, sadness, and regret, but I couldn't cry. I couldn't make the tears come no matter how strongly I willed them out of my eyes.

The thought of what I was feeling becoming more intense than it already was terrified and overwhelmed me, and I needed a drink. I guess that's what happens when your life falls apart, you tell the one person who shows up for you to fuck off, and you're sitting on the floor of your living room in a bathrobe that should probably be burned at this point.

I looked out the window to see the last of the daylight fading and decided it wouldn't be a big deal to head to the liquor store for one more bottle. Just one. A bottle to settle me down so I could either sleep or think. Preferably sleep. I was already more than two bottles deep at this point, but I justified it as a safe drive because the store was around the block from my house. I could theoretically walk there.

I should have walked there.

But, that would be the responsible option, so instead, I grabbed my keys off the hall table and headed to the car. In my bathrobe. I invite your judgments. Trust me when I say, that I had become such a regular at this place, no one would even bat an eye or care that I was buying wine in a bathrobe that could probably walk itself into the building.

The drive there was fine. Like I said, I have been doing this route so much, it was basically autopilot for me drunk or sober. I got there just fine, or I think I did. I was drunk and you're always more confident in your capabilities when you're drunk. I bought two bottles of Shiraz because it's the strongest, and headed back home.

I hit the brakes pretty hard at the last stoplight before my street and saw my phone slide off the passenger's seat onto the floor. The sun had set by now, and I really couldn't see where it had landed. I shrugged and figured I would look for it when I pulled into the driveway.

Sitting there anxiously waiting for the light to change, I was still in a bit of a trance. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular, just that jumble of thoughts we get when there are too many and it's hard to start pulling them apart. I simply could not wait to get this wine home and make it stop, or at least allow these thoughts and emotions begin to unwind so I didn't feel like I was about to jump out of my skin.

My spaceout at the light ended when my phone started ringing. I looked down, and it had landed face up on the floor so I could see the glow of the screen looking back at me.

It was Scott.

Or at least I thought it was Scott. My vision was a bit blurry, and the starkness of the screen's light against the deepening dark of the evening made it hard to tell. It was a dark haired man's picture looking back at me.

And I wanted it to be Scott.

My heart began racing, and I excitedly reached towards the floor to pick up the phone and take the call. Finally! He had come to his senses and knew how hurt I was and wanted to make things right with me. Maybe he was calling me to tell me he had finally left Denise.

When I reached for the phone, my foot slipped off the brake and lurched into oncoming traffic where a dump truck hurtling down the road couldn't brake in time to prevent crashing into my car.

The last things I remember were the sounds of brakes screeching, crunching metal, my crushing bones, and then the world going white around me. I didn't feel any pain. No singing of angels, no euphoria, no peace. I simply felt nothing and saw nothing but bright white all around me.

The very last thing I remembered was briefly regaining consciousness again while I was being rolled into the ambulance. I was in a stabilized position, strapped to a gurney, and I could see the reflections of the emergency lights all around me.

Then it went white again.

I was dead.

**Adam**

****

I sat there trying to pay attention to what was on the TV, but I couldn't form a thought past what had gone on between Sydney and me. I felt like a fool for saying what I did, but my feelings and frustrations simply hit their limit and emptied out. I wanted to shake her out of this mourning for a total scumbag who didn't deserve her.

Not that I deserved her so much after what had just happened, but I couldn't stand by and watch her commitment to self-destruction anymore.

I sighed and wistfully remembered all of the laughs we'd share on a daily basis in the office together. Our jobs weren't exactly exciting. She moved units and people, and I made sure we didn't get sued, but she made me look forward to going to work every morning for the last two years.

I'm not sure what she considered our relationship to be, apparently not much after what she said tonight, but I felt like Sydney was one of my closest friends. She was one of the few people on this earth who 'got' me, as cliche as it sounds. When I would go on and on about gaming or Star Wars, she would always have a clever reference on hand, or if she didn't, she'd sit there and listen to learn more.

She revealed some things about her life here and there. Her hobbies of gardening and playing piano, how much she loved the outdoors, or the cool hiking trails she discovered over the weekend. We never had deeply personal conversations about our past, because we didn't need to. There was an intimacy between us that was simply unspoken. We never had a set schedule of who would bring coffee in the morning, but it was always in sync, and we always got each other's orders right without ever asking.

I'll admit it... I fell in love with her. Not because she was beautiful, because she was. A classic dark beauty with dark hair and eyes that shone bright like her spirit, but because she was the whole package. Empathetic, kind, yet assertive...

And the first woman who let me just be me.

I never pushed for more than what we had, because I didn't want to lose our effortless friendship. If she rejected me, our friendship would never be the same no matter how much we would pretend it was fine. I was willing to never cross that line in order to keep my friend.

Besides, she was in love with Scott.

Scott and Sydney were a striking pair. The quintessential beautiful, go getting executives you see in ads for office furniture. Tall, tanned, toned... it made sense that they would be at least physically attracted to each other. I just never understood her utter _devotion_ to him. He was the kind of guy who got by on good looks and luck alone. Scott was no match for Sydney intellectually, but boy did she love him, and made him the best polished turd he could be. I'm just a corporate lawyer who could use a few more inches of height, a couple of more hours in the gym, and maybe a bit more hair. I'm okay with that, because I'm not a steaming pile of shit like Scott.

Scott's reputation for womanizing was legendary, but like every woman who gets caught in that snare, she feels like she's going to be the one who 'changes' him, and sees the Prince inside the Beast. It annoyed me to see a woman as nuanced and wonderful as Sydney caught up with that knuckledragger who was using her. Using her for sex, validation for his tiny ego, and upward mobility on the corporate ladder. He was bleeding her dry to fill his empty well of insecurity, and I just walked out on a hollow shell of a woman with nothing left to give, not even to herself.

I got up from the couch to grab a beer, and noticed the picture I had taped to the fridge. It was Sydney and I at the company luau last year. It really was an unflattering and terrible picture of both of us holding up giant coconuts full of pineapple juice and rum with little pink umbrellas in them.

Before the picture was snapped I said, "I feel like more of a man with this in my hand."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing!" she laughed.

"Coconuts!" we laughed in unison, consumed with our own cheesy hilarity. The moment captured what I thought was perfect about our friendship. We were simply ourselves around each other, and appearances didn't matter. Sydney's eyes closed and mouth grinning; me looking like I was deprived of oxygen at birth.

It's taped to my refrigerator, not because I'm a creep pining for the pretty lady I worked with, but because it was me and my friend enjoying a dumb company rah-rah picnic. Scott would soon saunter over, stinking of the punch they called, 'jungle juice' that made his breath smell like a night spent with antiseptic mouthwash.

Sydney's demeanor immediately changed when he appeared. Her goofiness gone, she became smooth, sophisticated, and all 'cool chick.' The dumb dick jokes were gone that had us doubled over with tears in our eyes. This Sydney was refined.

That Sydney was just fine. Still intelligent and beautiful, it was just a noticeable change. Kind of like she had to shift into 'handler' gear for whatever Scott was going to get into as the punch kicked in. Like getting naked in front of everyone and jumping into the pool as the party was winding down.

Our Vice President of Sales, folks.

Sydney expertly smoothed things over and found towels while treating him like a big sheepish child, and not a liquored up idiot who never faced a consequence in his life. I was simply glad the children had already gone home with their parents so I wouldn't have to do damage control in the legal department come Monday morning.

I sighed heavily and popped the top to my beer while I made my way back to the couch to stare blankly at the TV some more while I figured out what to do next. I had tried to call her earlier after our spat to smooth things over and apologize, but it rang twice and went to her voicemail. She still had her phone on do not disturb.

I sat there for another hour while my beer got warm trying to concentrate on the documentary I was watching, and I came to my decision.

I would let her go.

I didn't want to, but at the same time, maybe I was making things worse coming around all of the time. She was an adult. We all have our spin-outs. In the grand scheme of things, a 2-3 week drunk wasn't _Leaving Las Vegas_. She was drinking wine and taking Xanax. Dangerous, but it probably wouldn't kill her. And even if it did, I can't monitor her 24/7. She would have to pull herself up. I couldn't do it for her.

She is my friend and I love her, and maybe space was what she really needed.

With a heavy heart, I pulled myself up off the couch, dumped the beer I couldn't drink into the sink and headed to bed. I probably wouldn't sleep tonight, but a change of scenery was needed.

I set my phone on the night table and climbed into bed. I was barely under the covers when the phone rang.

"ST. GERALD GENERAL HOSPITAL" came up on the screen. It was the local hospital.

Shit. I instinctively knew it was about Sydney.

"Adam Miller," I answered.

"Hello, this is Andrea Ruiz from the Emergency Department at St. Gerald Hospital. Do you know a Sydney Daniels?"

My heart started pounding in my ears as my stomach dropped, "Yes. I do. What's wrong? What happened?" I asked more frantically than I intended.

"We're trying to locate her next of kin. An emergency contact. You were the last call to her phone, and there are several calls from you, so we thought you could help us locate them."

"Um... I-I-I don't know. I don't think she has any family and she's not married. Next of kin? Is it that serious?"

"I'm sorry, I can't divulge the condition of the patient unless you're family or the appointed decision maker," she replied.

"Yes, of course. Hey, she's a coworker of mine. Let me call our HR director and see if she can pull up an emergency contact in her paperwork. Regardless, I'll be there in ten minutes."

I ended the call and threw my clothes back on, I'm not even sure I put my shoes on the right feet, and ran out to my car. As soon as I pulled out of my driveway, I dialed our HR director, Julie.

"Hi Adam," she answered tiredly.

"Hi Julie," I replied, "I am so sorry to call you after hours like this, but there's a bit of an emergency. Sydney is at St. Gerald's and they need to contact family. I don't know how serious it is, but I was wondering if she had an emergency contact listed on her paperwork to help them?"

"Oh my goodness. Is she okay? Poor girl, she's been through so much. Hang on, let me go grab my laptop," I heard the phone mute and silence on the other end for a moment when she came back on the line, "Actually, Adam? It's you. She changed it when her mother died last year."

"Me? Her mother died last year?"

"Apparently. I don't think they were close, but she changed it to you after she told me it happened. She didn't ask for bereavement leave, just to change the contact."

A deep pang of sadness ripped through my gut into my chest, "Ok, can you screengrab that and send it to me on my phone? I'm driving to the hospital now."

"Yes, I'm doing it now," Julie answered, "Please keep all of us posted. I hope it isn't serious."

"Thanks Julie, I'll let you know."

I ended the call as Julie's message with Sydney's paperwork came over. As I crossed over Highland Avenue and Second Street, I saw the scene of what looked like a horrific accident. Emergency lights were flashing as cleanup was happening. No ambulances in sight. To my right, I saw a flatbed tow truck with a black Lexus on the bed. It was barely recognizable. The whole front end had almost beed ripped off the car and the jaws of life had been taken to it.

I knew immediately it was Sydney's car. Her house wasn't even half a mile away.

"Fuck!" I screamed into my dashboard, and hit the accelerator.

I don't remember parking my car, or how I got into the Emergency Department, but there I was frantically pulling out my phone to show the desk attendant that I was Sydney's emergency contact. The attendant made a call in hushed tones, and when she hung up, she led me into somewhere labeled a 'Quiet Room.'

I immediately felt dread and panic wash over me. This is how we found out my sister, Erin, was dead. Nobody goes into a room like that for good news.

"Oh God no," I sobbed into my hands, "Jesus, no."

There was a gentle knock at the door and a man in his early 40s, wearing scrubs and a weary look on his face entered the room and sat in the chair across from me.

"Hello, Mr. Miller. My name is Dr. O'Keefe, I'm taking care of Sydney tonight."

I breathed a sigh of relief, he sad _taking care_ in the present tense. She was still alive.

"What happened?" I asked, "Is she okay?"

"She was in a terrible accident. A dump truck struck her car at a high rate of speed, and she wasn't wearing her seatbelt. She sustained catastrophic head injuries, several fractures, and massive internal bleeding, including a punctured lung and a lacerated spleen. She is in surgery now. She'll be there for several more hours if she survives. Her head injury is severe, but we won't know to what extent until we know the outcome of her surgery. I don't have an optimistic prognosis for her. We asked for next of kin, because there may need to be advanced directives and end of life decisions made. She coded twice in the ambulance and twice here in the ED. It's a very fragile minute to minute wait. You'll be notified as soon as we know anything. I'm sorry. As long as her heart keeps beating, there's hope. Miracles do happen, but it's important to remain guarded. I'll be back with updates as they come," he patted me on the shoulder as he stood up and whisked hurredly out the door.

She was alive.

I put my head in my hands, "Please Sydney, please hang on," I whispered into my hands, "Please!" I said louder, begging.

I updated Julie on what was happening, and she was audibly upset, but said she'd bear the responsibility of telling everyone, and would let the legal department know I would be out for the rest of the week.

I sat there for what felt like hours scouring all of our text messages, emails, remembering our conversations, trying to wrack my brain for any mention of family. I couldn't find or remember anything. I texted her assistant to see if she could help, and she was not aware of any family or who to call.

I had to call Scott.

Scott picked up on the second ring, "Hey man! What can I do you for? Sydney decide what she's gonna do yet? Should I grab my paddle to paddle up shit creek?" he guffawed like the fool he was.

"No," I answered flatly. Suddenly, I wanted to see this man face to face when I told him what he effectively did to her. Make him face _something_ he destroyed. He didn't deserve a phone call he could later hide from.

"You need to get down here to St. Gerald's. _Now_ ," I said tersely, "Get in your car, and get down here as quickly as you can. There's an emergency. I'll tell you what's going on when you get here. Hurry the fuck up."

"Shit, man. You ok? I've never heard you like this!" he laughed uncomfortably.

Why does this douche always laugh?

"Just get here. Quickly." I said with what I'm sure was enough anger and disdain to get my point across, and ended the call. If Scott listened, and drove his overcompensation mobile like he always did, he'd be here in fifteen minutes.

I left the room to go grab a coffee and wait for him outside.

## CHAPTER THREE

##

ERES SAT IN her Hereafter petting the little fox in her lap looking out over the landscape as the sun warmed her hair. She knew that her time as a Guide was coming.

She was waiting for Ig, one of the The Powers, an order of angels who delivers messages between the planes and realms of the afterlife. Since coming to her Hereafter, Eres knew she would be called upon one day to walk someone connected to her through a journey between life and death.

Eres had been watching life unfold through one of the planes, and when she saw the events happen before her, and who they were connected to, she knew Ig would be on his way.

She turned around when the sound of footsteps approached her from behind. Ig was walking toward her, dressed as if ready for battle, black wings gleaming in the sunlight, with his mane of long blonde hair blowing behind him.

Letting her little fox run away, Eres stood and met Ig halfway in a grassy area between trees.

"Eres," Ig greeted her, "I trust you knew I was coming."

"Yes," The Guide replied, "I was surprised to see it would be Sydney. I never know which plane is reality and which one is the alternate. Now I know."

The Angel nodded, "Now you know. I also trust you are aware of the rules when you are a Guide. No matter how much you may want to, you cannot intervene in any way. You are simply there to walk with The Journey. Any interference will have serious consequences for both of you. We cannot interfere with one's fate or The Balance."

"I understand," Eres complied, "I will walk with her, and be with her as she makes her way... without interference. I know how I'm peripherally connected to her, but I thought The Guide and The Journey had to have parallel destinies. I'm a bit puzzled as to how that can be, given I was here before she became connected to me as I can see."

"All will be revealed," Ig replied, "However, you must not reveal what that connection is either. That also could alter how The Journey proceeds."

Eres nodded.

"She will be here shortly in the Hall of Doors. I will keep watch of the situation," Ig said. He crouched down, unfurled his wings, and thrust himself into the sky taking flight. Eres watched as his form grew smaller into the horizon.

She closed her eyes to melt her Hereafter away, and went to the Hall of Doors.

**Adam**

Scott did arrive in fifteen minutes as predicted. I could hear the engine of his Porsche approaching before I could see him. I walked toward his car as I saw him park it, tossing my paper coffee cup on the ground. My pace quickened as I saw him exit the car.

As he swung the door closed and caught my eye, I was on him before he could say anything. He was much larger than me, but fear, anger, and adrenaline gave me the strength of five men. I shoved him against his car hard enough to knock the wind out of him. I backed off as he staggered to stay on his feet, grabbing the rear end of the car to steady himself.

"What—" he gasped, "The hell is going on, Adam?"

"Fuck you, Scott!" I yelled crouching within an inch of his face while he was still doubled over trying to catch the breath I knocked out of him, "Sydney is probably going to die tonight because of you! You smug piece of shit! I will not let you get away with this. I will make sure you pay, you dumb, stupid asshole!"

I straightened up and backed away from him, surprised by my unhinged anger, knowing that I had to get some distance between us before I killed him with my bare hands.

"The hell are you talking about?!" Scott yelled back at me, "I haven't seen or talked to her since her little psycho meltdown at the Hyatt. Whatever happened, I had nothing to do with it! Girls like Sydney are fucking insane and find their own trouble."

The violent adrenaline was coursing through my veins again as he dismissed her, "First of all, she is a thirty-two year old woman. Not a fucking girl. You broke her heart, and she's been in freefall ever since. She was in a terrible accident tonight, and she's probably going to die."

Scott shrugged, "That's unfortunate. I thought she was tougher than that, man."

"Oh fuck you, _maaaaaaaan_!" I yelled again, mocking Scott and his obnoxious bro-talk, "When are you going to learn that how you treat people affects them? Deeply wounds and affects them! She is a person. Not a fucking toy. You destroyed her, and she was just trying to climb out of it."

"The hell do you want me to do, Adam? Give her a kidney? Is that what she needs? Do you want me to go in there and whisper 'I love you' into her ear and bring her back to life like some chick movie? Do you want to street fight here in the parking lot of a hospital? What! What do you want, Adam?"

_You in there instead of her_ , I thought to myself.

"They need next of kin. I know her mother died last year, but has she ever mentioned any other family?"

"Her mother died last year?" He asked looking surprised, "She never told me that."

"If she did, would you have even listened to her?"

Scott ignored my question and checked the side of his car for damage, then looked back at me, "No. She never talked about herself. She only talked about what she would do for us if certain scenarious played out," a sad look briefly swept across his face, "It's that bad? They're talking next of kin?"

"Yeah, it's that bad," I answered quietly. The fight had completely left my body at that point. Not even a pound of Scott's flesh would save Sydney.

"She died four times before they could get her into surgery. She's probably not going to survive that. If she does, she still has a head injury they don't know the severity of, yet."

"Shit," Scott exhaled and looked at his shoes, "Um... I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, I don't know of anyone to call. If I think of someone, I'll let you know."

Without looking at me, he got into his car, fired it up, and sped off. I stood there motionless as his car drove away.

I walked back into the hospital hoping for news of Sydney.

**Sydney**

****

I awoke on a wood plank floor in what looked to be a dark hallway. I sat there confused, wondering what had happened, and why I was there. I remembered the last two times I was conscious before fading into the white light. Was this a dream? The afterlife? Was I dead or alive?

I sat up and leaned against the wall behind me. I was... _fine_? I didn't feel anything like a horrific car accident had happened to me at all. I wasn't wearing the infamous bathrobe anymore. I was in my favorite jeans, long sleeved t-shirt, and flats I usually wore on the weekends. I reached up to feel my hair, and it was long and around my shoulders as usual.

What was happening? Where was I?

I stood, and again, I was fine. I was sober, physically and cognitively able, and dressed.

"Hello?" I called out into the darkness.

I began walking gingerly down this hallway, wherever I was, and noticed simple four panel wooden doors with plain brass knobs along the way. I tried one, and then the other. They were locked.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" I called out into the darkness again.

"I am here, Sydney," The gentle voice of a woman said behind me, and the hallway illuminated with a warm golden light that wasn't from electricity.

I turned around slowly, and what met my eyes was a sight so beautiful, I could only stand there in awe. It was a woman, younger than me, with long, flowing red hair and alabaster skin lit by the glowing light around her. She wore a long muslin gown that reached the floor with a large brocade robe over it.

"I am Eres," she said with the same gentle warmth I heard when she first said my name, "I am here for the rest of your journey."

"What?" I barely gasped, "Am I dead?"

"No," she replied.

"Am I alive?"

"No," she said again.

"How can I not be either dead or alive? That doesn't make any sense. Where am I?"

She gave a soft smile, and I noticed her ice blue, almost transparent irises, "You are what I suppose is in between dead and alive, known as the Hall of Doors. I am here as you decide which you would like to be... dead or alive," she motioned for me to follow her to a large window where I could see flourescent light streaming into the hallway. I followed her cautiously and joined her at her side.

I looked through the window, and let out a small cry at what I saw. It was me. I was in a hospital bed with a large bandage on my head, and a ventilator coming out of my mouth. Machines and tubes surrounded me, and I looked dead.

"That's me," I said.

"Indeed," Eres answered, "That is you in this moment. Not quite dead, and not quite alive."

I stood with her watching me lay there unconscious for a few moments as various medical personnel went in and out of the room. Then someone came in that took me by surprise.

"Adam," I whispered.

"Yes."

I looked at Eres, "You know Adam?"

"Yes, I know what you know," she said as she stepped away from the window and made her way back to the dimly lit hallway.

I followed, "How... how? Why... can you please explain to me what is going on? Where am I? Who are you? Why am I dressed? How am I not either dead or alive? How do you know what I know?"

"Come," she said continuing to walk as the hallway we were in melted away, soon becoming a field with large oak trees dotting the landscape. The colors were the truest I had ever seen. The greens, the blues, the yellows of the wild flowers, the brown trunks in the oak trees, it was as if we were in a painting. I was confused and taking it all in as I followed this woman, but not afraid.

She sat on a bench beneath one of the large oak trees, and a fox leapt up into her lap. They nuzzled while I stood there utterly perplexed, and after the fox settled into her lap, she motioned for me to sit next to her on the stone bench.

"Where are we?"

"My Hereafter,"she said simply, "This is where I exist. Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes, it's like a painting," I answered, "Are you an angel?"

This made her laugh. A warm, gentle laugh that radiated peace and kindness, "Heavens, no. Pardon the pun. I am not an angel. I wouldn't want to be an angel. Their lives aren't easy at all. I am simply a Guide for those, like you, who need to decide where to go from here."

"What's a Guide? And how do I decide where to go from here?" I asked, feeling the most wonderful gentle breeze blow through my hair. The little fox picked up its head and yawned before returning to slumbering in Eres's lap.

"Hmmm...," Eres began, "In life, we're told certain things we believe. Destiny, fate, free will, God, good, evil, and we pick and choose which ones to believe, when in fact, they're all true. There is destiny, fate, good, evil, free will, and even something more powerful than us. But we simplify it, become very rigid in what we believe, so then we don't believe in certain things."

I let out a sigh, "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Reality in life depends on equilibrium, homeostasis, attraction theory... The world as you know it cannot exist without equal give and take, cause and effect, action and reaction. There are very many planes of existence running simultaneously throughout life and the spirit world, but everything stays in perfect balance. Fate is predetermined, however our free will when we're living can overcome it at times. That's the blessing and the curse of it all," she explained, "Makes you wish you paid a little more attention in Physics class, huh."

"Yes."

"So you're here because you used your free will to cause a reaction. I'm here because someone else used their free will to cause a reaction. I had no say in the matter, so I had no choice. I died. Dying when I did was my destiny. You, on the other hand, made a choice that goes against your destiny, so you do have a choice. That's what we call The Balance. My destiny was taken and given to you and we are connected through that as well as other circumstances, some of which neither of us will ever know. As a result, I have been made your Guide. I have been here waiting for your arrival since I died."

"Am I in Heaven right now?" I asked.

"No, you are in my Hereafter. Everyone's is different. Again, Heaven is a concept that provides a rigidity and outcome we feel we can control in life. If you choose not to live, you will then learn what your Hereafter is. Until then, let's stay on the journey," she answered nudging the fox awake, and setting it down on the grass beneath us, watching it scamper away into the wildflowers.

"Come," she said standing up, and as I stood with her, the field we were in faded away and we were back in the hallway, dimly lit by the glow of the flourescent light streaming through the window. She continued walking as I followed until we were standing at the window again.

I looked through to see Adam standing by my bed, rumpled and exhausted like he had been sleeping in his clothes for days, patting my arm, then holding my hand, and wiping tears from his eyes. I felt a pang in my heart I hadn't felt before.

"Vulnerability," Eres said knowingly, "Remember, I know what you know, and I know that isn't a feeling you have allowed yourself to feel before."

"So why am I feeling it now?" I asked quietly.

"Because you aren't afraid," she turned again to walk down the hallway, and I followed, the flourescent light fading into darkness as we walked. The hallway before us now lit with the golden glow I saw when I met her. I could see the rough plank floor beneath my feet, the stark white walls, and the wooden doors ahead of us. There were about a dozen of those doors. Eres stopped and turned to me.

"These doors," she began, "Are defining moments in your life that changed who you are as a person, and led to the choice you made that brought you here. Neither one of us knows what's behind them. You will be able to walk through each door, and change something about that event and it will impact what is happening now. It will change who you are right now. You will have different feelings, memories, and people in your life. When you come back through the door, you will know these things inherently. However, for every correction of the past, there will be an equal reaction in the present."

"Equilibrium," I answered, "If I choose to live, will I have to relearn my whole life?"

"No," she replied, "You will inherently know your life as you do now, including your past memories. Those events changed who you are, and making them different will change who you are. You'll know the future and the past to aid in your decision. Should you choose to live, your past memories won't be remembered as you experienced them before coming here. If at anytime, it becomes too painful for you, or you no longer want to continue on your journey, you may choose to die and go into the Hereafter."

"And then I'll learn what that is," I said.

"Yes."

I took a deep breath and thought for a minute. That pang I felt looking through the window returned.

Eres began walking to the end of the hallway to the first door next to a brick wall, "I will be with you every step of the way. It will look like you're entering a scene in a movie in a moment you remember. The only one who can see or hear you is you in that space and time. However, you must know, I cannot interfere in any way. I cannot tell you what to do or not do. I am simply here so you are not alone."

"How did you die?" I blurted out.

"I told you, my destiny was taken from me. We are all connected, Sydney, and that's why we are on this journey. No one is ever alone, no matter how alone we may feel," she paused, smiled at me, and stepped away from the door, "Whenever you are ready, you may simply walk through."

I stepped in front of the door, placed my hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and began to turn it.

## CHAPTER FOUR

##

SCOTT ENTERED HIS home through the kitchen door, and threw his keys on the counter. Denise was sitting at the table flipping through a magazine. She glared at him from across the room noticing his somewhat disheveled appearance.

"Where have you been?" she asked tersley, "You said you'd be here to help me put the kids to bed. I don't know how you think after everything that's happened you're just going to waltz in and out of here and behave as if you don't have a family."

Scott pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels out of the cabinet, grabbed a glass out of the cupboard, walked to the freezer for ice, and returned to pour his drink in silence with his back to Denise. He took a long drink, draining the glass, and continued to stare at the wall with his back to her.

"Well? Are you going to say anything? You better not have been visiting that whore. She should lose everything for what she did. What kind of woman does what she did when there's children involved? Answer me, Scott," she pressed, "Where have you been? And if you say that woman's name, you can turn around and head right back out that door and never come back."

Scott poured himself another drink in silence again draining the glass, and set it on the table a little too hard. He turned to Denise, and she could see his eyes were red rimmed and glassy.

"I went and met Adam Miller at St. Gerald's. There was an accident. A bad, bad accident," Scott's voice broke uttering the final word, and he turned his back on her again to make a third drink.

"Adam? Is he okay? Such a nice guy," Denise said returning to flipping her magazine.

"No, Adam wasn't in the accident. He called me there because Sydney was in the accident," he answered turning back around to face his wife.

"Ha!" Denise laughed bitterly into her magazine, "That old trap. Poor Adam is too naive to see through it. Hallmark sign of a home wrecker. Create some kind of chaos to elicit sympathy, the men come running to save the day. Typical. This woman has a lot of problems. But yet, you ran to her like a fool," she finished, locking eyes with her husband, his eyes now brimming with tears.

"Denise," he began slowly, taking another sip of his drink, "Adam called me to the hospital because the accident was serious, and they couldn't locate any next of kin. He wanted to know if I had heard her speak of any family... and..." he stammered trying to hold back his tears, "there's a high possibility she may not survive the night," he finished, breathing deeply to keep the tears back.

Denise leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms in front of her chest with a satisfied look on her face, "I'd like to be sympathetic, but that's basically karma for what she did to this family, so quite honestly, _good_."

Scott shook his head and let out a bitter laugh, "A woman will probably die tonight, and you're keeping score. She didn't know you, Denise. Her discretion was out of respect for me, you, and our family."

"Oh such discretion! Publicly humiliating me is so discreet! Trying to destroy your career is so discreet! Not at all the behavior of a troubled woman desperate not to lose and take everything and everyone down with her."

Scott grabbed the bottle of Jack, glass still in hand, and tucked it under his arm, then squared himself to Denise, her jaw set in vengeful defiance.

"Yes, Denise, Sydney and I had an affair. As a matter of fact, we had sex that afternoon, and I told her I loved her. I did love her. I _do_ love her. You feel exactly the same way she felt when she saw you that night. I hurt both of you, and I am very sorry for that. Only, I _killed_ her. She believed in me, supported me, asked nothing of me, and I threw her away. For what... _this_? Misery. I'm miserable, you're miserable, but I guess it's easier to stay miserable than do what it takes to make ourselves happy."

Denise kept her jaw set, continuing to stare him down in angry silence.

"Let's be honest, Denise, I've had what, four affairs since we've been married? I didn't have anyone else when I was with Sydney. I can see why you keep me around. It's easier to sit there in judgment of me rather than pick up and start over at your age with two small children. It's easier for me to have affairs than to give up half my income and family and start over at my age seeing my kids every other weekend. But for what, Denise? For what? Every time I told Sydney I was going to leave you, I meant it. I want out from all of this. I'm fourty-five years old, and it's time for me to grow the fuck up, and be a man."

"You will pay, asshole. I will make you pay, and I will make sure you're as far away from my children as possible. How fucking dare you," she said calmly, yet her words dripped with contempt and fury.

Scott smiled wanly, "Oh I'm sure you will. I'm sure you will. Fine. Do your absolute worst, Denise. I don't even fucking care. Do you hear me? I don't fucking care! Take it all! The house, the cars, the boys, the friends, the money, I really don't fucking care. Now if you'll excuse me, I just got roughed up by a much better man than I, and I am going to go take a bath and drink to the life of a wonderful woman. A woman I love. A woman I probably killed by proxy."

Scott turned and headed towards the stairs to go up to the master bathroom, leaving Denise sitting at the kitchen table.

**Adam**

****

"Have you been home at all?" one of the nurses asked me as I stood there holding Sydney's hand. She had made it through two surgeries to repair her internal injuries, but her head injury was causing the most concern. The swelling in her brain wasn't going down as hoped, and her neurological functions weren't promising. She was on life support, and it was looking pretty grim.

"Once I see the doctor, I'll head home for a while. I understand I probably reek of a man sitting in a waiting room for two days."

The nurse gave a sympathetic smile, "You're fine. Dr. Patel should be doing rounds in a few. You can stay with her until then."

Since Sydney got out of surgery, she had been in the ICU, and I had been allowed to visit her for ten minutes at a time. The agony of waiting for my visitation with her felt like days, and the window of time I got with her felt like seconds until I had to leave again.

In my conversations with Dr. Patel in the last couple of days, the first 72 hours were the most critical with regard to her head injury. The swelling needed to go down, and her neuroligcal activity had to rebound in the next 24 hours, or it would be time to let her go.

There was something inside me, selfish false hope probably, that didn't feel like it could possibly be the end. When I looked at her, she looked like she had been in a terrible accident, but not dead yet. She wasn't brain dead. Sydney was still there.

I still hadn't been able to locate any family. I used every legal database I had access to, and couldn't find a single person to help me make this decision. It was wholly up to me. I didn't feel qualified.

Dr. Patel broke my concentration as he entered the room and gave his greetings.

"She's having a better day today!" he said optimistically.

"Really?" I asked.

"Well, better than yesterday. No fevers, no complications, the head injury isn't improving, but it also isn't deteriorating. She's in a nice holding pattern. Let's see what the next day brings and go from there," he holstered her chart back into its place at the foot of her bed and looked at me sympathetically, "Go home, eat a decent meal, and lay down in a real bed for a few hours. I won't tell you to sleep, but this is a marathon, and you need to rest. The nurses will call if there are any changes."

"Ok, thank you."

Dr. Patel gave his regards and left the room. I gave Sydney's hand one last squeeze and kissed her on her bandage covered forehead.

"It's not time yet, Sydney. It's not time. Do you hear me? Hang on."

## CHAPTER FIVE

##

THEY SAY YOUR longest memories live in scents. Before I could even get through the door, I knew where I was. The smell of terpentine and gasoline were overwhelming, and triggered memories I thought I had long repressed. The anxiousness I had felt as a child returned, and I wondered if I could face whatever it was before me.

I was in my step-father Stan's garage. A place where he would tinker with cars, lawnmowers, and other assorted projects during the evenings and weekends. I stood on the steps of the side door, and looked at the cleanly swept black and white checkered floor.

It was also the place he would molest me from the ages of five until I left home at eighteen.

My mother and Stan did not have a happy marriage, but my mother felt he was the best she could do, and stayed anyway. She knew I was being abused, but turned a blind eye, preferring her upper crust life just outside Columbus, Ohio instead of the struggle of poverty she endured with my father.

I don't remember my biological father. The story was, as my mother told it, one of young love to a poor mechanic on the wrong side of town. Her family, also of the higher echelon of Columbus, cast her out when they found out. Chris and Karen Daniels were married at the local courthouse, and I would be born a year later. We would live in a run-down one bedroom apartment until he took off when I was a toddler, and she found her savior, Stan.

I had seen some pictures of Chris Daniels in dusty photo albums, and I can see why she fell in love with him. A tall, dark, and handsome guy, he had a wide toothy grin, and kind eyes. During my childhood, after my garage purgatory with Stan, I would lay in my bed and fantasize about the man in the photos rescuing me.

When I became a teenager, my mother fell into the abyss of alcoholism. It wasn't unusual for me to return from school to find her face down on the kitchen table with the small TV blaring, and an empty bottle of Stoli on its side. She had become mean, bitter, and basically an empty shell of a human being with a heartbeat.

Stan Verona was a small, weasel of a man with a bad comb over, thick glasses, a paunch, and bad breath. The polar opposite of the handsome man grinning back in old photos. He walked with a slight limp and shuffle because one leg was shorter than the other. He married my mother in her prime, and I'm sure it left a lot of people scratching their heads when they would be seen in public.

But Stan was loaded, old family money, and he was on the board of the power company, and what my mother loved more than anything was that he had money and a large home. Her struggle was over.

My childhood was as terrible as you could imagine, and I hid myself in my room for the most part, and when I wasn't in my bedroom, I would lose hours upon hours at the piano in the formal living room. I never had lessons, but I got a book from the library on how to play, and taught myself. By the time I was almost out of high school, I was being offered scholarships to colleges all over Ohio. A proposition my mother would rage at when it was brought up.

"You want to be a poor ne'er do well like your father? No. You will go get a business degree. End of discussion!" she would always snap back, and pour herself another drink.

So that's what I did. I went to a state school and got a business degree.

Then I moved across the country.

And it turns out? I became my mother.

I finally found the courage to step onto the garage floor from the wooden step. The calm I felt in the hallway was gone, and my human emotions returned. Eres appeared in the corner out of nowhere, and gave a gentle smile.

"What do I do?"

She nodded her head to the right, towards Stan's workbench.

Sitting on the workbench was five-year old me. I was wearing a sundress, sandals, and my long dark hair in pigtails accented with white bows. Swinging my legs anxiously, because even at the age of five, I knew what was about to happen to me.

"She can see and hear you, but she will not be afraid," Eres said quietly.

I approached little me slowly. I had no idea what to do. The familiar fear of my mother raging at me caught in my throat.

"Do you want me to lose everything? Stan has loved you like his own daughter. You should be grateful!" I could remember her shouting at me whenever I tried to tell her what was happening to me in the garage.

Well mom, I'm a fucked up human being with obvious issues involving men and self worth. And I'm about to be dead at 32 for coping just like you. _Thank you_ , Stan.

I reached the little girl... me... put my hands on her knees and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"I want you to run. Run into the street waving your arms. Tell whoever stops to take you to the police station because Stan is hurting you. Don't be afraid of Mommy. The police will protect you. The doctor will see the bruises under your panties, and they will make sure Stan never hurts you again. Do you understand?"

Identical brown eyes met mine, and the little face nodded.

"Good," I said, picking her up and setting her on the floor, "Go. Run as fast as you can."

My five year old self took off running down the long driveway toward the street. We lived off a busy main road, so she would be seen quickly. I watched her bouncing pigtails disappear down the hill.

As soon as I lost sight of her, the fear and anxiousness immediately left my consciousness. Left behind, only the revulsion of smelling the memory.

I heard footsteps coming. The familiar step-shuffle of Stan making his way to the garage was unmistakeable.

I heard Eres audibly gasp, and I turned to look at her, but before I could see her, we were back in the hallway.

Back in the hallway, I could see that Eres was visibly shaken. She laid a hand on the wall to steady herself, and I could see her bend her head to look at her feet.

"What? What's wrong? Did I do the wrong thing?"

"There is no right or wrong thing. These are all of your decisions to make," she said.

"Then what is it? What's wrong? I thought you knew what I knew?"

"I thought I did, too," She raised her head and turned to look at me, her crystal blue eyes glossy with tears, "Come," she said as she headed back toward the hallway and stopped at the window.

I stood next to her and looked. The same flourescent haze enveloped that part of the hallway, and I was still in the ICU looking the same I way I did before we went through the door. Adam was there sitting in a chair holding my hand, with his head laying on the side of the bed.

I felt something I hadn't felt before. An overwhelming love and sadness for Adam, "Oh Adam, I'm so sorry. How could I have done this to you?"

I saw the curtain move, and instantly recognized the two figures walking into the room. An older man with gray hair, but still handsome and strong accompanied by a woman of about the same age with red hair cut into a sensible bob.

"Mom.. Dad," I whispered.

"So you remember," Eres smiled.

I did remember. It wasn't a wave of memories that rushed over me, it was just something I already knew. I now remembered the day I ran out of the garage.

I had made it to the street and began waiving furiously until a car stopped. Inside, a young couple asked me what was wrong, and I told them Stan was hurting me and I needed to go to the police station. They asked me if my mother knew, and I said she did, but she didn't believe me.

"I have bruises under my panties," I said.

After they debated what to do, I got into the backseat of their car, and they drove me to the local police station, and I was questioned by a very gentle and kind Officer Kelley, telling him what was happening in the best way a five year old could.

I was then taken to the hospital, and another gentle nurse talked to me about what was happening, and she soothed me while the doctor examined me. Someone had called my mother along the way, because I remember crying when I heard her shrieking outside the hospital room.

The nurse smoothed my hair while I cried, "It's ok, sweetie. I know it sounds scary, but you're safe here. Nobody is going to hurt you. You were very brave."

A few hours later, the man in the photograph came into the room with Officer Kelley and the doctor. He had on a pair of worn jeans, workboots, and a flannel shirt. His dark wavy hair a bit of a mess, but he looked just like the man in the photos I had seen.

The nurse held my hand, "Sydney, do you know who this is?" she asked.

"My dad?"

My father smiled that smile I had seen in the pictures, and kneeled by the foot of the bed, "Yes, I am your Dad, Sydney. I'm here to take care of you," a dark and serious look came over his face, "and no one is ever going to hurt you again."

He had come to rescue me.

I would later learn that my father never left my mother and me. In fact, he had tried very hard to be a part of my life, but my mother, backed by her family and Stan's money, made it impossible. When he got the call from the police, he was working three jobs to save up the money to go to court for visitation.

It took a while for me to trust him and his new wife, Betty, but soon I felt safe, and had a perfectly normal childhood. I took piano lessons, played little league, grew into an adolescent, and then a teenager. I was still gifted in music, but it was something both my father and step-mother encouraged. I left high school and accepted a full ride scholarship to a fine arts college across the country. Not too far from where I live now, to be exact.

I wonder if that's the part of my life that's the destiny. A completely different path that ended up in the same place.

Stan wound up serving almost fifteen years for what he did to me. I have no idea what happened to him after that. My mother divorced him while he was incarcerated, got all of his money, the house, and her life didn't change very much than the previous way I remembered her. She was a bitter, hateful, drunk, and I hated visiting her twice a month because she would just rage about how I had ruined her life, and now she was a pariah. I suppose that was her destiny.

She never once apologized to me.

I watched through the window with Eres as my father and Betty hugged Adam, and cried when they saw me. My father leaned down to kiss me on the forehead, and rubbed my shoulder. Betty was almost inconsolable, and Adam held her close while she wept. I could feel the emotions flooding inside me watching it. The love for my father, Betty, and...

Adam?

Not taking my eyes off the scene before me I asked Eres, "How come I can remember my parents and a whole new childhood, but I have these new feelings for Adam? Nothing in my memories about Adam are different... but I - I - I _love_ him?"

It was true. The love I thought I felt for Scott at one point was magnified a hundred times over for Adam. A love so deep it took my breath away. I was so confused.

Eres kept watching them with me, "Remember when I told you one action has an equal result? Well, you ran away from Stan and your mother. Chris and Betty then came into your life. There's still much to resolve, but eventually the pieces will begin to fit. You feel the way you do about Adam right now because you're able to feel that way about him. Love doesn't scare you anymore. Love isn't another word for pain in your mind, or someone you have to fix or fix yourself to be worthy of anymore. Love is a safe and wonderful thing. You've always been able to give it, but now you're able to receive it as well."

We were silent for a few moments as we continued to watch.

"Are you ready to continue?" Eres asked.

"Yes," I answered.

## CHAPTER SIX

##

WE TURNED FROM the window and headed down the hallway again. I noticed there were fewer doors than before. Where there once a dozen, now stood about half.

"There are fewer doors," I noted to Eres.

"Yes. Cause and effect. That singular action of running away changed so much of your life. Many of your past problems were solved by simply running for help when you were five-years old. Your ability to trust, give and receive love, and valuing yourself and your worth stopped a lot of things from happening in your life."

"I was motivated by fear the whole time," I said, suddenly feeling the new emotions Eres was describing to me.

"Yes, however, there's still more to do," she ended in front of the next door, "Are you ready?" she asked.

Silently she stepped aside, and I once again found myself standing in front of another door. I sighed as I turned the knob not knowing what I would be facing on the other side.

I walked through and found myself on a residential street on a sultry summer night. I immediately knew where I was.

I was back at my mother's house.

I knew exactly what would happen.

In my past memory, Stan had died shortly after I graduated from High School. In my new memory, he was still incarcerated for abusing me, but those circumstances didn't change this one, it seems.

It would be the last night I spoke to my mother for almost a decade. With Stan gone, either dead or in prison — given whatever reality— this confrontation was going to happen. I was going to confront my mother and demand the apology I never got.

As I remembered it, I was living in a small studio apartment just off campus. I had accepted a job in my new city as a fundraiser for a national charitable organization. I wanted to start my adult life with a totally clean slate. I wanted closure. I wanted the apology I never got. So I drove to my mother's house to get it.

I guess you could call it the naivete and idealism of a young adult, I should have known I'd never get that apology, and it would only wound me more, but I had to try.

I remember walking up to the house, and knocking on the door. There wasn't an answer, but I could see the lights on. It wasn't unusual for my mother to be passed out at this point. I had called earlier in the day to let her know I would be by for some things of mine before I moved. She had been slurring her speech on the phone, so for her to not answer my knocking wasn't a surprise. It also wasn't a surprise that the door was unlocked, either.

I walked in and stood in the foyer for a moment steeling myself against the anxiety I was feeling, then made my way upstairs to her bedroom, where she spent most hours of the day.

"Mom?" I asked gently when I walked in, "Mom, I'm here to get my things."

She stirred a little, "Sydney," she said into her pillows and moved around a little around the bedclothes trying to rouse herself. The room stank of stale vodka and a faint rot of someone decaying while still alive. My once beautiful mother, now only in her mid-forties, looked elderly. Her hair growing in white over her last dye job that had to be at least a year old, her skin sallow and waxy, her once perfect teeth, gone. Dentures sat on her bedside table. I immediately felt pity for this woman and wanted to save her. However, fifteen years of anger burned in my chest, and I quickly pushed aside any sympathy I ever felt for this woman. She was just as much as a monster as Stan for what she allowed to happen to me.

"Mom! Wake up!" I said a little too loudly, startling myself a little, "Mom! I have to talk to you!"

Gingerly, my mother sat up and fixed herself a throne of pillows around her to prop herself on. She leaned over to her night table to put in her teeth, and pour a full mug of vodka, then washed down a pill. Smiling blythely like a cat watching a dove from a perch in the window, her lifeless eyes focused on me.

"So you're off to go be an adult now. Heading thousands of miles away to make it big, huh. Leaving your mother behind. You always were selfish, Sydney."

"It's not selfish to accept a job offer, Mom," I began, "There aren't many opportunities for me here in Ohio."

"That's why I told you to go to business school! Be a secretary! Job security! Find yourself a nice husband, settle down! No man is going to want a woman with a career. Mark my words, Sydney. You'll be single at 30, and no man will want you because you'll be dried up, damaged goods," her eyes were now burning with a seething hatred. She sneered at me while she took a swig from her cup.

"Why do you hate me so much?" I half shouted at her, trying to find my courage. Even though she was practically a drunk invalid at this point, I was still somewhat terrified of her.

She took another sip from her mug, and her sneer returned, "I've hated you since you were five-years old, Sydney."

"Why? Because of Stan? You know what he did to me. You should have protected me. Instead, you traded me for these four walls! Was it worth it to you? Have me hurt?" I gestured around the bedroom, now in complete squalor, "For _this_? I was a child, Mom! A child! How could you possibly hate a child?!"

She slammed her mug down on the nightstand, "Because you have always been a selfish little brat!"

Before I knew it, this woman one would take for a drunk who could barely stand, had flown from her bed at a speed I would have never predicted. Soon I was on the filthy carpeting with her on top of me, beating me with her fists and kicking me. I froze in the fetal position and took her punches and kicks until she winded herself and fell back on to her bed.

"You... are... an.... absolute... piece of shit... Sydney," she heaved between gasps, "A disgusting piece of shit who... seduced her step-father... you...disgust...me. Get out of my house. NOW!" she screeched, "Take your shit and get out! I am done with you. I hope terrible things happen to you so you will know my suffering!"

I got to my feet, staggering a bit from the beating. I could feel bumps and bruises starting to form all over my body, and my ears were ringing with my silent screams. I didn't put up a fight. I let her have this victory.

"You're not even sorry," I whispered as I left her bedroom leaving her spread eagled on her back in the bed heaving for breath at the ceiling.

I didn't get anything from the house. I numbly made my way back to my car and went home. When my roommate asked me what happened, I said I missed a step at my mother's house and took a tumble.

I cried myself to sleep that night, vowing to never go back and never turn into her.

But that's how funny life can be sometimes. The further and faster you run away from something, the quicker you become that thing.

So here I was, about to face that night. I was standing under the streetlight at the intersection of Lilac Street and Lacey Lane, when I saw 22-year old me pull up to the house. Eres stood silently beside me.

I began walking toward the car, as I saw myself sitting in the driver's seat mentally preparing myself for what I was about to do. My walk became a run as I got closer to the car. I could not let myself get out of the car and go through that.

When I reached the car, I started yelling, "Sydney! Sydney! Open the window!"

My younger self was wide-eyed and terrified. Frozen and unmoving.

"Sydney, it's ok. It's me. Well, it's you. Ugh. Eres!" I called down the street. She didn't say or do anything, she simply nodded.

"Ugh! Why?!" I shouted at her. Then I turned my attention toward myself sitting there paralyzed with fear watching what must have looked like a ghost screaming like a lunatic in the middle of the street.

"Sydney! I shouted through the closed window. Sydney, look, I know you are so freaked out right now, but it's okay. You don't have to roll down the window and talk to me. Just don't go in the house! Mom isn't sorry for what happened. She will never be sorry for what happened, and that's not your problem to fix. You can't fix her misery by carrying it on your back for the rest of your life. It will suck everything good out of you until you become her yourself. Hate is like poison, and it will slowly kill you. You owe her nothing. She was supposed to take care of you and she didn't. What happened to you didn't hurt her or ruin her life. She did that all by herself. Drive away. Go start that new life you want! Don't go in that house!" I finished, breathlessly.

The Sydney in the car kept her eyes fixed forward and didn't say anything, but I could see a single tear roll down her cheek, then more followed until she was leaning over her steering wheel sobbing.

I placed my palm on the driver's side window and leaned my face close to the glass, "It's okay to cry. Let it out. Let her go. You have Betty who will always be the mother you need."

Without looking at me, Sydney picked her head up, dried her tears with the backs of her hands, and took a deep breath. She reached for the keys still in the ignition, turned the car over, flipped the headlights on, and sped away before I barely had a chance to step back from the car. Not that it would kill me or anything. She turned left down Lilac Street, tires screeching past Eres, and zoomed off into the night.

When the car was out of sight, I dropped to my knees and began sobbing, too.

Eres appeared next to me, knelt down, and gently rubbed my back.

"Let it all out, Sydney. Set yourself free."

My mother's house and street faded away as I continued to sob uncrontrollably in Eres's arms. The release of pain felt so good. Hot tears washed away everything I had been holding onto inside for so long.

Eres continued to stroke my hair and back, while she gently encouraged me to let everything I had been holding onto out of my heart and mind. After several more minutes, I began to slow my crying and breathe a bit more between sobs, allowing my thoughts to regain their footing. I couldn't ever recall having a raw emotional response to anything like that in my life. It was such a mix of relief, grief, fear, anger, regret, and all of the things we hold inside of us, that to let it all out was a furious tidal wave I couldn't hold back.

I pulled away from Eres to regain my composure, and she looked different to me. She acknowlegded the puzzled look on my face, and smiled wanly, sitting on the bare wooden floor next to me.

"You see and feel things differently," she said barely louder than a whisper.

"You're different," I replied, "I don't know how, but you're different to me now. Do you know why? It almost feels like you're... more familiar."

"Come," Eres said, getting to her feet, "Let's go remember a joyous day for you."

"What?" I asked, but before I could get to my feet, we were back in her Hereafter.

I was now sitting on the cool grass of the meadow, and Eres was walking toward her oak tree with the stone bench. I gathered myself up to my feet and followed her over, where she was now sitting looking into the distance while petting her little fox who had once again made his way into her lap.

"So what's this? What are we doing now?" I asked.

She smiled and nuzzled the fox who gave out a purr of contentment, "I want you to remember something before we move on. You've changed your life again, and while you'll soon remember everything that moment you decided to drive away instead of confronting your mother gave you, you have felt the burden of her hate and regret leave your body. The way you view the world is totally different now. Like when you were a little girl, you have the ability to give and receive love without a wall built around your heart or fear of being hurt. Growing up with your father and Betty has allowed you to see how a healthy relatioship looks. You have given yourself something you never thought you'd have."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Unconditional love," she replied, "Now close your eyes, Sydney. I want to take you to that day you never thought would happen.

Soon we were transported to the upper balcony of a large church. A church I instantly knew. It was St. Catherine of Siena, a church I had seen everyday on my drive to the office for the last two years. It was gothic and massive, and while I had never been inside because I wasn't religious, it looked exactly as I imagined. Crimson carpet, polished mahogany pews, with beautiful murals depicting the life of Christ. The altar was gilded with gold accents and a beautiful white marble floor. White lilies and roses in beautiful sprays flocked the aisle and altar, their sweet smells wafting up to the balcony where Eres and I sat.

The pews below us were full of people, and I immediately spotted my grandmother, grandfather, and Betty. I also could name friends and family below me, that I don't remember in my prior life, but I knew now. I could also make out Adam's parents.

Adam's parents? I never met them before, and I never spoke of parents with Adam, but there I was smiling down on the memory of Hilda and Ernest Miller. Adam was a carbon copy of his father. Same strong but compact build, same dark hair graying at the temples, and both stood in a quietly commanding way. Hilda, slight, almost birdlike, with her once brightly auburn hair now sporting beautiful white streaks that reminded me of strawberries and cream in the low chignon she was wearing. The familiarity with Hilda made me look at Eres, again.

Eres met my eyes and smiled. Yes, I've seen this face, I thought to myself.

_I've seen this face_.

I heard the assembled crowd grow quiet as the church doors opened. In walked Adam, his brother Robert (who I now instantly recognized), his friend Gregg from law school, and another of his childhood friends, Tucker, made their way down the aisle. I beamed when I saw them walk under our perch towards the aisle.

My smile grew wider when I realized what today was.

My wedding day.

I looked over at Eres watching over the procession. She was also beaming with tears in her eyes. I felt something deep in my chest when I looked at her. It was the last thing I said to Adam the night of our rehearsal dinner.

"She will be watching us, so proud of her little brother. I know she will be there."

I was talking about his sister, Erin.

Eres was Erin. I knew this now.

I looked at her again and she nodded. Tears now rolling down her cheeks, but she was still smiling. She was there watching us on that day. That's how I could see this now.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Eres smiled back and nodded, motioning for me to look over the balcony down the aisle. I was time for me to make my entrance.

The crowd turned and a smiling sigh was heard as I made my way to the end of the aisle with my father on my arm giving me away. I now remembered the whole thing. I remember how nervous he was that he was going to mess up walking me down the aisle. I remembered how hot and heavy my dress was on this unusually warm Saturday afternoon in May, and how my veil pinched my temples. I would later rip it off in the limo and throw it out the window on our way to the reception making Adam dissolve into a fit of giggles as he laughed, "Purity out the window the second she gets a ring on it!"

Oh the joy of this day. I sat as I watched my father kiss me and give me away to Adam. It truly was one of the happiest days of my life, and one I never thought would happen. Eres was right about that.

But not confronting my mother that night allowed this to happen. I came to this city eight years before I had in my prior life, and began my job at the non-profit, where I met an attorney fresh out of law school, Adam Miller. That whole eight years I spent waffling and going from one terrible relationship to another ceased to exist anymore in this reality. I valued myself enough to move on with my life, and my destiny found me sooner.

My destiny.

Adam was my destiny.

We were always supposed to find each other in this city, at work. That's what fate had etched out for us. One way or another, the space and time didn't matter. It was meant to happen. Instead of meeting me as a deliriously unhappy thirty year old ready to give up and accept her miserable life... or death, he met a twenty two year old music major who wanted to save the world. Everything that was so easy about us in our friendship before, was so magnified by the love I was able to give and receive now. My heart was full.

As I watched the ceremony, I felt something on my finger. I looked down and saw my wedding band had appeared. A simple, white gold band I watched him slip on my finger from up in this balcony.

I knew then that I wanted to live.

When the church was empty, Eres and I spent a moment of somewhat uncomfortable silence in our perch.

"You're Erin," I said softly, "You were murdered right before I met Adam."

She sighed and nodded, "Yes, but I had taken the name Eres before I died. It means, 'you are' in Spanish. I was an artist, as you know, and I always felt it suited me better. My paintings were my way of wanting people to see themselves. You aren't what people tell you... you are what you're feeling in this moment looking at a painting."

"Your hereafter is the painting in your parent's dining room. I remember it now."

Eres smiled wistfully, "Yes, my mother grew up in northern California near Yosemite, and I came up with my name the first time I remember seeing the landscape. It whispered to me, 'you are.' I had been getting picked on because I was considered weird by society. The way I dressed, what I painted, calling myself _Eres_ , living in the cold and dreary Midwest when I could have lived anywhere in the world, a thousand miles away from my family, but I always went back to that moment and that landscape when it whispered, 'you are.' While I didn't understand why I was such an outcast, I always knew exactly who I was."

I nodded, but there was something still off about this exchange. I couldn't quite pinpoint what was off about it, but I knew there was more to this story and our connection.

"You said earlier that you lost your destiny so I could have mine. Did you die so I could live?" I asked.

"No," she said with a darker tone than I had heard from her before, "No."

"So what did you mean?"

The darkness remained in Eres's demeanor, and it made that uncertainty in the pit of my stomach grow. Something was wrong.

"I meant it as I said it," she began slowly, "the balance of the universe is simple. One simple act begets a simple act. We are all connected to those we know and don't know yet by the threads of life and destiny. In our connection, your life and mine are not connected. My life is connected to the person who took mine. However, you are here right now because our destinies were intertwined."

"Through Adam," I offered.

Eres sighed without a word and continued looking straight ahead at the altar. I decided to tell her exactly what I was feeling.

"Why do I feel like something is off?" I asked, "I feel like something isn't right, there's this overwhelming sense of uncertainty within me right now, and I feel like you have something to do with that."

"I cannot interfere in your journey, I told you that," Eres replied tensely, taking me aback.

"See, that's it, right there. You're angry, or upset, and I don't know why. Watching the wedding ceremony, I wanted to live. I want to live, but why is there so much doubt right now? I thought I could choose to live whenever I wanted?"

"There is imbalance," Eres said flatly, "That's your uncertainty. The scales aren't even. There are lives unaccounted for. There are deaths unaccounted for."

I began to understand what she was saying, "So I can't really decide until the scales are balanced."

Eres quietly nodded.

"Ok," I began, "Let's go back and see what's going on."

## CHAPTER SEVEN

##

AS I CAME through the next door, the smell of flowers was overwhelming. Folding chairs were placed in neat rows throughout the small room, and I immediately knew where I was.

A funeral home.

Looking to my left, I saw where the scent of flowers was coming from. A few standing floral arrangements of lilies, roses and carnations framed a modest oak casket at the front of the room. The lid was open for a viewing, but I could tell from the profile who it was.

My mother.

Only this memory was different to me now. In my former life, my mother would continue to drink and pop pills until she became too frail to live on her own. So I, ever the dutiful daughter, put her in the best nursing home I could afford. She would phone me several times a day and berate my voicemail about the living conditions and how pathetic I was to not do better by her, or have her come live with me. Occassionally, I would answer her call and let her drone on for hours on end, repeating herself incessantly, making up completely new histories and realities, the goings on of her staff and other residents. Mostly, I just stared off blankly and didn't listen. She was even more bitter and hateful, in a place twenty years before she should have been because she gave up on her life when I was a child. She was only in her late 50's, and she should be out seeing the world and enjoying the second part of her life. Instead, she was a demented shell of a monster with no one but the daughter she hated to call.

One morning, last spring, I received a call from her nursing home that she had a stroke in her sleep the night before, and didn't wake up. It was a common way for lifelong addicts to die. Their bodies simply wear out.

Again, playing the role of the dutiful daughter, I excused myself from Scott's office where we had been fooling around, and went to my office and shut the door to cry a little and make the arrangements.

I wasn't sure why I was crying, and feeling so desolate at the time. The woman brought out nothing but anger in me. I always said to myself that I would rejoice the day she met her death, because I would then be free. However, as I sat at my desk scrolling through funeral homes and booking a quick roundtrip flight back to Columbus to handle the legalities of her death, I felt an overwhelming sadness and tears freely tumbling down my cheeks.

I was grieving for someone I had always wanted, wished would arrive, and yet— never appeared. I was sorrowful for all of the years I spent alone making my own way. I was sad for being so very hated by the woman who brought me into this world.

I was crying because I was now a 31 year old orphan. I had no one to call. No one to guide me through this. No one to cry to. Scott had enough on his plate, the last thing I was going to do was burden him with this.

I heard a light tapping on my door, and I immediately grabbed a tissue to wipe the tears from my face, "Yes?"

The door cracked slightly and I saw Adam's face peek in, "Hey! You busy? I come bearing gifts!"

"No come on in," I managed to smile through my drying tears and glassy eyes.

Adam bounded through the door a brown bag in the crook of his elbow, "So I found something you are just going to lov—" he paused when he saw my face, "Is everything okay, Sydney?"

"Oh, yeah... yeah," I forced a smile, "My allergies are just acting up really bad. What's in the bag?"

Adam sighed with relief and his huge smile returned, "Ok, remember when we were at that bakery a couple of weeks ago and you were looking for that cookie you liked back in Ohio, the cream cheese ones? Koleekies, or something?"

I laughed, "Kolachys?"

Adam snapped his fingers, "Yes! That's how you say it," he pulled a white box from the paper bag, "Anyway, I was in there for a donut run on Sunday morning, and asked the lady at the counter if she'd heard of them, and if she wouldn't mind making some for you. You said you liked the cream cheese and raspberry ones, right?"

He set the box on my desk, and I opened it. A dozen perfectly formed cookies dusted in powdered sugar were neatly arranged in the box. The smell of the dough and sweetness making my eyes water again from gratitude, but I did my best to sniffle and act like it was hayfever.

"Awww, Adam, that is too sweet!" I smiled, picking one up to taste it.

"Pun!" he laughed, making me laugh, too.

"Okay, just wanted to run these by for you, I'll let you get back to work," he said.

"Adam, wait!" I said before he made his exit. I so badly wanted to tell him what was happening, but I decided against it, "You have to take a couple! I promise you they are a religious experience."

Adam laughed, "Oh I got a dozen for myself, too. Never met a cookie I didn't like, even if I can't pronounce it."

"Well, thank you. It made my day," I replied.

"Damn, your day is that bad? Happy to make it better. I'll talk to you later," he said hurrying out of my office, quietly clicking the door shut.

Adam's interruption calmed my tears and sadness so I could think. I began to make arrangements to spend two days in Columbus handling everything. Mom wouldn't need a service, because there wasn't anyone to go, and we had made all of the financial arrangements before she was admitted into the nursing home.

I picked up the phone to call Julie in Human Resources. She picked up on the third ring.

"Hi Julie, it's Sydney over in Operations. My mother has passed away, and I'll need a couple of days to go home to Ohio and handle some things."

"Oh I'm so sorry for you, Sydney, you poor thing. Just a couple of days? Our company policy is to give a week of bereavement leave for immediate family. Can I also send a flower arrangement from the company?"

"Thank you, Julie, but that won't be necessary. There won't be a service. Just two days will be fine. It was a long illness, and not unexpected. I just need to deal with some formalities and final arrangements."

"Oh," Julie began softly, obviously unable to find the right words, "Ok. I pulled up your file and I see that she's listed as your emergency contact, so I think we need to update that. Is there someone else we can add for you just in case?"

Nope. Literally no one. But who says that out loud to Human Resources?

"Um... well, for the time being, let's add Adam Miller. He lives close to me, and it makes sense."

"Ok, will do," Julie said as I heard her typing the changes, "I really am so sorry, Sydney. Please let me know if anything changes and you need more time off."

"Thank you Julie, I will," I said as I ended the call.

I finished the gloriously delicious cookie, and made my way down to Scott's office to tell him I'd be gone for a couple of days. I was vague and just said it was a family thing I had to take care of. He didn't ask for details. He never asked for details when it came to me.

"That's a shame! I was hoping you were going to be around to help me with the Covergent presentation. When I lock that down, it's going to be raining money, baby!"

"Well, I'll have my laptop with me, so send it along and I'll look it over when I'm out there."

"My girl!"

Yep. Your girl.

I wound up flying to Columbus, signing a few papers, having my mother cremated, and flying back, fixing Scott's presentation the whole time. Five days later, my mother's ashes arrived on my doorstep in a simple black container. It was hard for me to fathom that someone who instilled such rage and fear in me only took up less than a shoebox's worth of space now.

I didn't know what to do with her ashes. My hands trembled whenever I picked up the container. She sat on my coffee table for a week, and I would sit there and drink wine looking at the label on the box.

**_Karen Verona_**

"Where do you want to go, Mom?" I bitterly asked the ashes drunk the night before the accident, when I took them out of the hall closet I had eventually hidden them in because I couldn't bear to look at the box anymore.

"Should I pour them on a bed? Soak them in vodka? Break up some Ativan on them? You were the biggest piece of shit mother of all time. You should be at the bottom of a cat litter box. Fuck you, Mom. I hope you're roasting in Hell."

I would sit there and drink for another couple of hours, saying every angry thing in my heart that was about or not about her. Finally, feeling depleted, and wanting her away from me forever, I took the container out to my garage, and threw it in the garbage bin, then dragged it to the curb.

"Spend eternity in a landfill, bitch."

I woke up with my head pounding a few hours later when I heard the garbage truck come by, and the familiar clanging of wine bottles spill out as the receptacle was emptied. I felt a brief bit of panic when I remembered what I had done earlier, but justification warmly filled my body where the panic left it cold.

"Goodbye, Mom," I said into my pillow falling back to sleep.

Now here I was in a new memory and a new reality. Standing there with Eres in a funeral home, looking at my mother in a casket. I started to have a new memory, but it was coming back slowly.

"She was only forty-two," I whispered, "She died shortly after the wedding because she wasn't invited."

Eres nodded solemnly, "It's true that bitterness and hatred can become a reason to hang on. Some people's only reason for living is the life source of resentment. Resentment can sustain a person forever. The myth of the living is that there is no greater power than love, when in fact, there's no greater power than anger."

"She overdosed," I said softly, remembering. I now remembered getting the call in my apartment. I had just begun dating Adam, and he was the first person I called, then my father. Both were adamant we have a small service to say goodbye.

"Even a bad person deserves a proper send-off," my father said to me, "You may not think it's what she deserves, but the funeral isn't for the dead. It's for the living. There's a lot of power in a proper good-bye. Besides, I loved her once, she gave me you, and for that I am grateful."

We decided on a small and simple service, and she would be buried in the family plot alongside her parents and grandparents. Nobody spoke at the service. We had called a minister from the phonebook to preside. Adam and I flew out to Ohio, and it was just the four of us along with some of my mother's distant family who read the obituary in the paper.

I watched my younger self, now twenty-three and in love for the first time, look at my dead mother in the casket with a morbid curiosity mixed with confusion. I stifled a gentle chuckle looking at a younger version of Adam and myself.

"We are so cute," I said to Eres.

"You are," she smiled.

I stood there and watched, looking at my mother again. Her sallow skin heavily powdered pink. Long faded hair, neatly pulled back. Even in repose, she looked angry.

"Did she have a choice?" I asked Eres, "Since she essentially made the same mistake I did, was she met here as well?"

"No," Eres replied, "It was always her destiny to die the way she did. Only," she paused and sighed, "Only, her heartbreaks became more acute in her life as things changed."

"My happiness increased her heartbreaks," I sighed with tears welling up in my eyes, "So, I essentially killed her."

Eres whirled around to face me, her icy blue eyes fiery with rage, "No. You do not have that kind of power. You are not responsible. She lived longer in your former life, because The Balance was set. You were within her reach, unhappy, and gave her anger something to feed on. She was always meant to die this way. There was no other outcome for her. Just as her choices impacted you, your choices impacted her. You can prolong, but you cannot prevent the inevitable. Do not own any of that responsibility, Sydney. Life is in charge, not you, and it always balances itself out. _Always_."

"So where is she now?" I asked, "The Hereafter?"

Eres's face softened and the funeral home melted away, and we were back in her Hereafter. This time, she smoothed her robe and sat crosslegged on the earth, inviting me to join her. I sat down beside her.

She took a deep breath before she began, "Do you remember when I told you that in life, we accept very narrow versions of concepts, when they are all true? God, Heaven, Hell, Religion..."

"Yes," I answered.

"You also asked if I was an angel."

"Yes."

"Well, those concepts are narrow. Heaven, Hell, angels, and the like. The fact is, we exist on several different planes on the other side, too. Religions teach us that the key to a Heaven or paradise is through good works, elightment, Karma, and the like. Hell is through the lack of those and exercising your free will in a negative way. We live our lives as though there's some grand scoremaster keeping tally of all those things, and like I've said before, it's all correct, but alive we have to keep it narrow so we understand."

I nodded, and she continued—

"When I met my end, I was not a perfect person, but the sum of my parts, so to speak, was that I did the best I could do with my life. My life was also taken from me, so that meant I was done on that plane of existence, but I had more left to do on this plane, so I am in this Hereafter. From here, I can see everthing in life I want to see, and be content in the reality I was content in within my life. Some choose to spend eternity here. See everything for generations and generations to come. Some want to do more after they've satisfied themselves with the Hereafter, and they become the types of angels they want to be. There are several kinds, and they move between all of the planes working to intercede or carry out orders from the Higher Power. Others want to cross over forever and head to what's called The Forever. The Forever is what I guess you could interperet as Heaven, because I don't have a better description for it you would understand."

"Is the Higher Power God?" I asked.

Eres shook her head, "I honestly don't know. There are several higher powers. Guides, which is what I am, are higher powers to the living. Angels are a higher power to Guides, and so on. Even beyond life, everything is in a loop and there has to be balance, so every plane, every entity, has a higher power. When I died, an angel met me, and explained my role as I am explaining to you."

"You still haven't answered what happened to my mother," I said.

She nodded, "On the other side of the Hereafter is Penance. If you have chosen to inflict pain on others, or live in such a way where your heart is dark and you do not value your life or the lives around you, you must serve Penance when you die. You feel all of the pain inflicted on others by your hand or heart ten-fold. When you understand the power of pain, and feel the contrition, you are allowed to become an Observer. You can see the world around you in life, but you cannot feel joy in what you see. Only more pain. Because pain is built to last in life, you are never really free of your penance for inflicting it willfully in death. If you refuse Penance, you head to The Nothing."

"The Nothing... is that like Hell?" I asked.

"I think it's worse," Eres answered, "It's darkness. Emptiness. Nothing. Like a dark closet you are locked in for eternity."

Eres stood up and helped me to my feet, "I don't know where your mother is. I have not seen her on this side, so I can only assume she is on the other. Somewhere."

We began to walk through the field when she stopped and grabbed my arm, "But, that is not your concern nor your responsibility. You were never like her in your soul which is why you're here. You are here because the sum of your parts and heart, no matter the choices you made, were inherently good."

## CHAPTER EIGHT

##

AS WE WALKED through Eres's hereafter, it again faded away, and we were in the hospital. The same hospital I was laying almost dead in now, but I immediately knew it was a different time.

Suddenly, the memory hit me.

It was the day my daughter was born.

In my life before this journey, I had never wanted children. I felt the only way to break the cycle of my past was to break it permanently and have it end with me. I think that's why I tolerated every broken relationship I had, there was no permanency to any of them, because I didn't feel I deserved it.

With Adam, all of that changed. As soon as he accepted the job as legal counsel for Southwest Dynamics, we decided to try for a baby. I felt ready, and was excited to have a child of my own. I got pregnant almost instantly, and Adam doted on me for the nine months leading up to the birth of our daughter we would name Eleanor Erin Miller, named for his grandmother and sister. We would call her Ellie.

Ellie came into this world in the quiet of the night, and I felt as if my heart would explode at the love I felt for this sweet little being Adam and I created.

"She is beautiful," Eres beamed as we walked through the nursery stopping at her bassinet, "I watch her all the time. Thank you for naming her for me."

I smiled back at the newborn I now remembered sleeping soundly, "Adam loved you so much, and by proxy, I felt I loved you, too. You would have been a good aunt."

"She's four now," Eres said, "I love her little pigtails, and the way she sings silly songs."

The memories seeped into my heart like a ray of warm sunshine, "She is very sweet. She gets that from Adam, but she also has quite the strong will."

"Like her mother," Eres said, brushing her long slender finger along Ellie's cheek.

"Eres?" I asked.

"Yes, Sydney?"

"I want to live now. I'm ready to go back."

Eres showed no emotion and quietly walked out of the nursery into the hallway of the mother and baby unit. As she walked, the scenery darkened, and soon we were back in the hallway, illuminated only by the window to the present world casting a soft white light in front of us.

"I know you want to live, Sydney, but that's not possible, yet," Eres began slowly.

"How?" I asked, "You said before, the scales were not yet balanced. Obviously, my mother had to die, and Ellie replaced that life. What else is out of balance?"

Silently, Eres made her way to the window.

"I cannot explain that to you right now. I'm sorry. Partly, because I cannot understand it fully myself, and also because it causes greater consequences across the planes. You remember the planes I told you about before, right?"

"Yes," I answered, "There are several layers of existence in both life and the afterlife."

Eres nodded, "It's not just one plane that balances itself, but many that balance each other as we're all connected. This plane you're viewing has always been there. It has simply been one of the many facets of your fate. But other actions balance that plane, and the plane we're on now. There is an imbalance that must be resolved first. I know you want to live, but your journey simply isn't complete yet. Patience."

Eres stopped at the window and looked into the scene unfolding before us. I looked just as I had the last time; unconscious and covered with tubes keeping me alive.

My father and Betty were in the room with me, and Ellie was in my father's arms clinging tightly to his neck. She was scared. My father hugged her in tightly, and it looked like he was reassuring her not to be afraid. I saw her pull back and her pigtails bounced when she nodded yes to him, and he bent forward so she could kiss my forehead.

The image dissolved, as if in a movie fading to black, and a new image appeared. A similar hospital room, only this time, the figure laying in the bed wasn't me. It was Adam. He too, unconscious, and covered in the neverending plastic tubing that keeps one alive when life hangs in the balance by the tiniest of threads. Beside his bed, I could see his exhausted mother holding his hand, talking to him through tear stained eyes.

"Oh God, I remember," I blurted out, "No, Eres! No!" I screamed.

"Sydney—" she began gently.

"No!" I screamed and took off running down the hallway, it melting away into the fields of Eres's hereafter.

I collapsed near a tree and buried my head in my hands.

Everything was completely different now.

Adam and I had attended a reception for Southwest Dynamics the night of the accident at a local hotel. Once I had Ellie, I left my work with the nonprofit, and stayed home with her, so I was excited to have a night out with my husband. We had taken my car, because Adam's was in the shop.

I had gotten to know Adam's coworkers over the years, and I was well aware of Scott Thompson the Vice President of Sales, who I jokingly referred to as Adam's nemesis. Adam loathed him, and thought of him as nothing more than a frat-boy riding a life long string of good luck and entitlement. To say Scott couldn't behave himself was an understatement. He was loud, crass, and always managed to find a way to drink too much at the end of a company gathering, business trip, or any other occassion my husband had to do damage control for the next day.

This evening's festivities were no exception. Scott had a big blowup with is wife, Denise, a nice lady I felt was long suffering, but not willing to trade her lifestyle in for a better man with two small children in tow. It seems Scott's harem of young women trying to break the glass ceiling had enough of his antics, and confronted him with his bad behavior when he decided to get a little too friendly with one of them at the event. Embarrassed, Denise walked out, and Scott hit the open bar.

When the evening wound down, and it was time to relieve the babysitter, Adam and I said our goodbyes, and I noticed Scott splayed out on a chair. Half awake, and mostly drunk, he was in no shape to get himself home.

I tugged on Adam's sport coat as he was saying goodbye to someone.

"What?" he asked.

I motioned over to Scott, "I don't think he's in any shape to get himself home. We should help him."

"Scott's a big boy, he can figure it out," Adam shrugged.

"Yeah, a big boy who's going to think he's okay to drive," I said.

"Good. He's a candidate for Darwinism if ever there was one," Adam replied more bitterly than I expected.

"Don't say that," I said pleadingly, "He may be an awful person, but he has a wife and kids at home. Not to mention he could kill someone totally innocent along the way. Where does he live?"

"Over in Hampton," Adam answered.

"That's not too far."

"I'll call him a cab."

"No," I began, "He's in bad shape. I think it's best we drive him home. What if the driver is a woman and he gets handsy? Think of the mess that will be for you Monday morning. Better to just go ten minutes out of our way and take him home."

Adam sighed, "I swear, Sydney Miller, you are the patron saint of lost causes."

"How do you think we've stayed married?" I smiled brightly.

"Ok, I'll go get the car," Adam acquiesed, "You go get Alpha Sigma Phi on his feet without getting groped or puked on."

"I've handled much worse."

Adam left to go bring the car around, and I made my way over to Scott. The stench of rum and coke meeting me ten feet before I reached him.

"Hey, Scott, Adam and I are going to go ahead and give you a ride home tonight," I said snapping him out of whatever reverie he was in gazing off into the distance.

"Huh?" he said, trying to sit himself upright, "Oh, you're Adam's wife... Cindy... Sandy..."

"Sydney," I helped.

"Yeah, Sydney. How the hell he got a dime like you is one of this world's mysteries. My wife's a fucking bitch," he slurred, "I'm okay! I can get myself home. I only live about ten minutes away."

I knew better than to argue with a drunk, so I appealed to his emotion of the moment.

"Yeah, I'd let you, but it's a Saturday night, and you know this town is crawling with cops after ten. Denise will take you to the cleaners if you got a DUI. So let's save half your 401k tonight, huh?"

"Bitch," Scott blurted out, "Not you, her."

I reached for his hand, "Okay, come on, Adam's got the car out front."

"Anything for you, gorgeous!" he said excitedly, getting to his feet and stumbling behind me, using my left shoulder as a crutch as we ambled out of the ballroom into the lobby, where I saw my car through the glass doors.

"There he is, c'mon champ," I encouraged, almost gagging on the sweet smell of rum eminating from all of Scott's pores.

"God, you're fucking beautiful, Adam got a big dick or something?"

"Something!" I said trying to sound like I wasn't going to barf on my shoes in that very moment.

Adam saw us ambling toward the car, and quickly got out of the drivers seat to help with our charge. We shoved him in the back seat next to Ellie's carseat.

"Shit, you guys got a kid?" Scott lamented, "Shit goes downhill after kids, man."

"Buckle up, _man_ ," Adam said tersley nearly slamming the door on Scott's face.

We weren't out of the parking lot before Scott tossed his cookies all over Ellie's carseat.

"Oh shit! I'm sorry man! I'll pay to have that cleaned."

Adam and I simultaneously put our windows down to avoid a vomit chain reaction. He turned to me, "This is why you call this idiot a cab."

"I'm sorry," I replied, "Just trying to do the right thing."

As we turned out of the hotel parking lot and made our way to Hampton, I felt a hand on my left breast, "Don't talk to her like than, man! This woman here... she's fucking beautiful man, beautiful."

I let out a yelp, and Adam turned quickly to shove Scott off of me.

Then I heard brakes, screams, the crunch of metal. Everything I experienced in the first life.

Then it went white.

## CHAPTER NINE

##

I HEARD ERES'S footsteps approach as I wept, still laying next to the trees with my face in my arms.

"Sydney," she said breathlessly.

"Do not, 'Sydney' me!" I shouted getting up to my feet, "So that's the scale I have to figure out, Eres? Whether I die or Adam dies?" I stepped forward towards her so we were almost nose to nose, "Either your parents lose two of their children, or your niece grows up without a mother? That's the balance the universe demands?"

"If you die, none of your new life even exists, there is no Ellie," Eres answered flatly.

"So I die twice, then? You give me a taste of what could be, and then hand me a vial of poison?" I screamed. I moved even closer, and Eres stepped back, "What is that? This is where the _good_ go? I would rather go through a thousand hells! And how... how can you just stand there? Stand there so blythely? You said you watched everything in my new life as it happened. How? How? Why does everything have to have balance, yet not make a single shred of sense! What about Adam's chance at happiness? What does it look like for him if he doesn't get a shot at this life? Or only gets to experience it to die anyway?"

"Sydney—"

"No!" I shouted, tears now beginning to flow freely, "No! This is cruel, it's unfair. I asked for none of this. None. I walked through those doors, made the choices, and this is my outcome? Die miserable or survive miserable? Bury my husband, and raise my daughter alone, or die a miserable heartbroken drunk like my mother? At least the cosmos did her a solid and made her demented before she died so she had no idea!"

"Sydney, I cannot interfere. Even if I wanted to interfere, I can't. I have no power in this. There is only one life left. Only one."

My sobs gave way to the broken breathing of hyperventilation, I put my hands on my hips and stared off into the horizon trying to compose myself, "No Eres, there's something you're not telling me. When I got here, I had the choice whether to live or die. You said it wasn't my destiny to die in that accident. Adam's life wasn't a factor until Ellie was born. My mother was already dead. My father was still alive, but I didn't know that. Hell, _Stan_ was already dead! Whose life took Adam's? You supposedly died to leave the placeholder for me, so my debt is absolved. What aren't you telling me, Eres?! That little girl, who we named for you, your brother who mourns you every single day since he lost you, their destiny hangs in the balance. I have asked to live twice. _Twice!_ What aren't you telling me!"

"Sydney, the decisions you made altered things you don't even know, and won't ever know," Eres's said quietly as tears tumbled down her alabaster cheeks.

"Tell me what they are then. I know you know what they are!" I screamed, tears now flowing freely down Eres's face. Her eyes incadescent and glowing.

"Sydney, I can't. I... _can't_. I'm so sorry," she said, turning on her heel and taking off running through the fields.

"Eres! Eres!" I cried taking off after her, "Eres! Stop!"

Within moments she was out of sight, leaving me alone in the field. I fell to my knees looking up at the azure sky. I let out the most primal of screams that echoed in the distance.

After a few moments, I brought myself back to my feet and ran in the direction she disappeared.

This wasn't over.

I wanted to live the life I saw and felt to the deepest depths of my soul.

No one was going to take that from me.

**Eres**

****

Bloomfield Hills, Michigan is where I ended up after finishing art school. I know it doesn't seem 'normal' for an artist to end up somewhere outside of Detroit, but there was an appeal to it that drew me there. Perhaps it was the fact I loved to paint in vivid colors, and the landscape did its best to be stark and bleak most of the time. Artists love a good juxtaposition.

I didn't have much in the way of money, so I found an old run-down house on the outskirts of town, and got a job as a bartender at a neighborhood tavern a few blocks from my house. It was your typical dive bar with its usual regulars and not much else going on. The average tab was three cheap draft beers, and two dollars left for me on the bar when they wandered out into the outside world to return to their families or loneliness.

My days were spent in the old house, I had turned into a studio painting, and the nights slinging beers in the dingy tavern. I could not have been happier.

Making friends at the bar wasn't difficult. I actually enjoyed bantering with them, and playing armchair counselor to all of their woes. I would listen and offer advice on anything from dating, marriage, parenting, money... no topic was off limits. I listened without prejudice and I felt comfortable calling them my friends. I didn't tell anyone I was an artist, and it didn't matter. I was Eres the bartender from out West who always had their favorite pour when they walked in, threw back shots with them, and celebrated their wins and losses in life.

One evening, in the middle of my shift, a man I didn't recognize walked through the tavern door. Small in stature, he walked with a bit of an odd shuffle, wore thick glasses, had the most unfortunate salt and pepper comb over, and came in wearing the standard blue work uniform of the various working class trades of the clientele.

"Hi!" I greeted him brightly as he took a seat at the bar, "What'll it be?"

"A Manhattan," he said running his tongue over yellowing teeth that seemed too big for his mouth.

"Well or top shelf?" I asked.

"Top shelf," he said, "You actually know how to make a Manhattan? Seems like no one in this godforsaken town knows what that drink is."

I smiled, "Well, it's your lucky night, because I'm not from this town."

"Where are you from? Wait, let me see if I can tell," he said.

"If you guess, this drink is on me," I laughed.

"Hmm..." he thought stroking his uneven mustache, "Not the Midwest, not out East or the South, so I'm going to guess out West somewhere. Arizona?"

"Awwww, so close!" I mocked disappointment, "California."

"You traded California for this hellhole?" He asked incredulously.

"Decided to make my way in this world mixing fancy drinks," I answered patting the bar, "Let me get that drink for you."

He stayed a few hours keeping to himself, not saying much to the regulars trying to engage him in conversation. I kept working and chatting up the bar. Every so often, I could feel his eyes on me, neon beer signs reflecting off his glasses.

At the end of the night, he motioned me over and asked to cash out. I handed him his tab.

"So how were those Manhattans?" I asked.

"Best I've had since getting here," he answered.

"Yeah? You're a transplant, too?"

"Yes, but not from a far away place like you, just Ohio."

"Oooh, I hear Ohio can be exotic, though."

The man gave a quiet chuckle, and threw two twenties on the bar.

"No change, keep it. You have a good night."

I thanked him and he shuffled out the door into the night.

The man shuffled into the bar a few nights later and took the seat he was in the last time I saw him.

"Hey there! Manhattan?"

"Yes, please."

"Coming right up!" I said.

I mixed his drink, and set it in front of him, "So now that you've been here twice, I get to ask you your name."

He took a long pull on the drink and set the glass down, "Stan."

"Nice to meet you, Stan. I'm Eres."

"Like, an heiress?" He asked.

"No, like the Spanish word for 'you are.'

He raised his eyebrows, "Hmmm... interesting."

I walked away to tend to other customers and left him to his drink. He wasn't much of a talker, and I never bothered those who just wanted some quiet time with a stiff drink.

Again, at the end of the night, he put two twenties on the bar, and told me to keep the change.

"I thank you for your generosity Stan, but it isn't always necessary," I said.

"No, I insist. Coming in here after a long day and seeing a beautiful redhead is worth it. Please keep it."

I smiled, "Well thank you, Stan, have a good night."

Over the next couple of months, Stan would come in every three days. He opened up a little bit more each time. I found out that he worked at the power plant and he was divorced with a step-daughter, but they were never close. As with that first night, every now and then, I would feel his eyes on me, and while Stan was always kind and respectful, it gave me a bit of an uneasy feeling.

One night, after making Stan his drink, Rusty, a longtime regular motioned me to his seat at the end of the bar.

"Another beer, Rusty?" I asked.

"In a minute, Eres. Watch out for that guy down there, doll. I don't like the way he looks at you," he warned.

"Oh, Stan? Nah, I wouldn't worry about him. He's harmless. I think he's just lonely. It doesn't bother me."

I walked over to the tap to fill Rusty's beer.

"It should bother you," he said as I delivered his drink. He lowered his voice, "He just got out of the pen, you know. Guys I know at the power plant said he did a 15 year bit for diddling his daughter. He's a creep."

I looked over at Stan, who again had his eyes on me, "Are you sure that isn't just gossip?"

"Nah, sweetheart, they looked it up. It's a fact."

"Oh," I said quietly, the uneasy feeling returning, but I brushed it off, "Well, he's paid his debt to society, and maybe he's rehabilitated. He has a right to be here having a drink like everyone else."

"You carry?" Rusty asked.

"Carry? Like a gun?" I returned.

"Yeah, like a gun. You should have protection."

I winked at him, "I'm not worried. I have you guys looking out. You won't let anything happen to me."

"Just be careful, doll," Rusty said taking a swig of his beer.

"I will, Rusty. Good looking out."

More weeks went by uneventfully. Stan kept to his schedule, and no one ever said another thing about him.

The spring that year was unseasonably hot, and I decided to walk to work one night, as I usually did when the weather was nice. My neighborhood wasn't the prettiest, but I never felt unsafe there. I took the usual precautions and carried pepper spray, not thinking I would ever have to use it.

It was a typical shift at the tavern. I made the usual thirty dollars in tips passing out cheap beer. It wasn't a Stan night, so no extra twenty in it for me, but enough to keep me in electricity and paints. All I really needed.

I walked home enjoying the warm evening and made it to my doorstep. I let myself in, flipped on the lights, grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and flopped on to the couch, putting up my feet, and looked at my current project before me.

It was a large oil on canvass painting I was working on commissioned by a dealer in Detroit. I specialized in landscapes, and this one was my favorite.

In the summertime, my parents always took my brothers and I up to Yosemite, and it was my favorite place on earth. The colors, animals, flowers, fields, mountains, it was the one place on earth that had everything one could call paradise. I would be sad to finish this painting, because it meant I would be parted with it.

I was thinking of how to make the leaves on the trees more dimensional when there was a knock at my door. Odd for this hour, and no one told me they would be stopping by. I had a small circle of friends from the art community, but who would be dropping in without calling first?

I flipped on the porch light and unlocked the door. When I opened it, Stan was standing on my porch.

"Stan! What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?"

"It's not hard to figure out, Eres. Can I come in?" He asked.

"I'm sorry Stan, not tonight. It's late, and I just worked a long shift. I still have work to do and now is not a good time."

He stepped closer to me. Close enough for me to smell his putrid breath of bourbon and food.

"I'm coming in, Eres," he sneered, showing me the knife in his hand.

"Stan," I said backing up into the threshold of the front door, "Stan you're scaring me. Please go home."

"Not tonight, Eres," he said grabbing my arm, and poking the knife into my side, "You're letting me in tonight."

That was the night I died. It was a quick death. The last thing I saw was my painting on its easel.

Then it went white.

I woke up here. An angel met me, and told me this would be my Hereafter. I would be able to see what I wanted in life whenever I wanted, but I had to wait and be a Guide for someone whose destiny intertwined with mine.

That person is Sydney. I knew the moment I walked through the first door with her and saw my murderer. Syndey closed the loop.

Stan wouldn't die of a heart attack at fifty-five, here in Michigan separated from his wife, as he did in her previous life. In his previous life, he left her mother Karen, and came here. He killed me and died a month later in a fancy hotel. He still drank Manhattans and watched me at the tavern for months. The only thing Sydney changed for me was that I was killed by an ex-con instead of a better dressed man with more money.

But, by closing the loop, she left him alive. Time in prison slowed the clogging of his arteries and consumption of Manhattans. Stan Verona was alive today, and that's why there was one less life to balance.

The only way for Sydney to have the life she wanted with Adam and Ellie was for Stan to lose his.

## CHAPTER TEN

##

THE COUNCIL OF Angels looked at one another after watching what happened between Sydney and Eres in her Hereafter. The angels were a selection of Powers and Virtues who oversaw the Hereafters of The Guides.

Vortestra, a Virtue, stood before the council, "The Journey has closed the loop, yet she doesn't know how. Only The Guide knows, and as of now, balance remains."

The other Virtues nodded and mumbled in agreement.

"As it stands," Vortestra continued, "There is no divine interference needed in this matter. The Journey has a singular choice to make. To live or to die. The Guide has not alluded to the loop being closed. I see no problem with proceeding."

The Powers shouted in protest at the Virtue's statement. Their leader, Ig, motioned for quiet as he stood to address the council.

"Yes, on its surface all is well. However, we are in an unusual situation. You see, we have never seen the loop close and then cause a double bond to form. The Journey closed the loop in the first door. That moment was the connection to The Guide. While The Guide was able to see the hopes and wishes of those living, closing the loop made them a reality not only for The Journey, but also for The Guide. I pledge we ask The Principalities to intercede on our behalf. Remove the connection from the living, so that the scales are balanced and we don't have destinies unbalanced!"

"The Journey's free will has altered fate!" a Virtue yelled from the crowd.

"The Journey's fate has been altered, the loop closing altered the others. If we don't intercede, it will cause a chasm felt throughout every plane and can become catastrophic."

"Not if The Journey chooses the Hereafter!" Vortestra argued, "Then everything is as it was."

"Ah, yes, but The Journey traveled and altered her life, and chose to live. She closed the loop through no fault of her own. The Guide also said nothing. We must intercede! The Divine Power gave her the choice."

Echoine, the Dominion presiding over the council stood, causing all of the Virtues and Powers to take their seats and grow silent.

"Ig, you are to visit The Guide. Let her know her options in rectifying this. Until such time as The Guide makes her decision, we will put The Journey in her own Hereafter to wait. I agree with both Virtues and Powers in this case. While unique, I don't feel we are in the realm of divine intervention just yet. Ig, you are to report back after your visit. Until then, we are adjourned."

## CHAPTER ELEVEN

##

ERES STOOD AT the edge of her Hereafter breathlessly. She'd never been here before, but she knew this was the line she could not cross. A deep ravine was under her feet, and a stiff wind tousled her hair. She looked out over the emptiness before her, and noticed a raven flying in the distance.

"The Powers," Eres muttered to herself knowingly. The Powers always appeared as ravens when they had to deliver news from the Higher Power. She knew why they were approaching. However, there was only one raven instead of many, so she wasn't worried.

She knew why they were coming. Something was wrong with The Balance. Sydney had shifted things, and they needed to be fixed, but how? Another impossible choice? Another heartbreak for Adam and her parents? A tragic heartbreak for Sydney who had asked for none of this?

Obediently, though she had no idea where Sydney was right now, Eres waited for the raven to approach. As it flew closer, the being became less raven and more human like. She could make out the strong and powerful image of a man's torso and legs as it became clearer and closer in her vision. She stepped back affording it a berth to land.

Swiftly, bringing its own gust of wind, the raven made its approach to the cliff. Eres steeled herself as she made out the features of the angel heading her way. Once she saw the long blonde flowing locks and the strong warrior's stance as it landed, she knew who was coming to see her. It was Ig, the leader of The Powers.

Eres had never come face to face with one of The Powers before Sydney's accident. Her angel when she came to the hereafter was a Virtue, and only heard of Ig through stories she heard along the way when her paths crossed with others in her same station. For one of The Powers to visit her twice, especially their leader, she knew this was serious.

Ig landed gracefully on the precipice of the cliff, tucking his wings behind him and shaking out his mane of long hair. His muscles flexing in the waning sunlight as he made his way towards Eres.

"Eres," he said intently, yet softly, as he approached.

"Ig," Eres replied cautiously.

"I suspect you know why I'm here?" He asked stopping in front of her. Eres noted how massive he was, almost two full heads taller than her. The Powers could fight alongside Archangels if needed, and it showed.

"Sydney," Eres replied softly.

"Come," Ig motioned to the path away from the cliff where Eres came from, "Let's walk."

They walked in silence for a few moments as the brush grew thicker. Eres could hear the wind rustling the feathers on Ig's wings as they made their way to one of the oak trees before the clearing.

Once they reached the tree, Ig motioned for Eres to sit on the rope swing hanging from one of the large limbs. She grabbed one of the thick ropes and settled down slowly onto the plank of the swing bracing herself for what the angel was about to tell her.

"There's an imbalance, Eres," Ig began diplomatically, "You know what that imbalance is, and how it came about, and I know you want to do something about it, but I must warn you. There are ramifications if you interfere in such things."

Eres kept her gaze at her feet as she rocked slowly back and forth on the swing, "I know. I am a Guide. If I interfere with a Journey, I lose my hereafter and become an angel."

"Yes. Among other things."

"I don't understand how any of this happened," Eres began, "I knew my fate wouldn't change no matter what Sydney did. Stan would murder me either as a rich man or a poor convict. His soul was never altered by his circumstances. I would die on the same day and the same way regardless of Sydney's path in life, because it was my destiny."

"Yes," Ig agreed.

"And I came here knowing I would be her Guide, or someone's Guide one day. When we went beyond the first door and I saw him, I knew. I didn't interfere or speak, but I knew how he changed who she was, and even though what she did beyond that point would change her present and future, I knew it would not change my destiny. So I said nothing. Door to door, I said nothing. I've spent twenty earthly years watching every scenario, every fate of the people I love, knowing nothing was certain beyond me remaining here forever. I know fairness in the living world is a misnomer and a fairy tale among the living. Still, I said nothing. Now, I have to continue to stand by and do nothing? Sydney has done all that's been asked of her. She's been brave. She's walked through every door. She knows the truth, and she's left with this choice? Die as she was or live with a part of her missing? My parents have to lose another child? My niece grows up without a father or never comes into being at all? I'm not sure I can witness that. I thought cruelty was reserved for those who deserve it. Sydney is a Journey because she is pure of heart. I am a Guide because my destiny was stolen from me. So where is the balance in this? Why do we only reap pain? Stan is still alive only by happenstance now. He should have died shortly after I did."

"You ask fair questions, dear Eres. Questions I don't have all of the answers to," Ig replied, "But you must know, part of Sydney's journey is about making that choice. If she chooses to die now, Adam is the only one hurt—"

"Ha!" Eres said bitterly, "You say that like losing the love of your life is easy. Were you ever on Earth, Ig? Do you know what it's like to love?"

"No, I was never Earthly. I do not know."

"Well, let me tell you what love is like. It's like that breeze in your hair when you take flight and spread your wings. You step off the highest ledge and the wind carries you, but you're terrified the whole time that something will go wrong and you will crash to the earth breaking every bone in your body, only it's your heart and soul. I know if Adam got the choice, he would rather die and let Sydney have the rest of her life without him, but she goes back into the world possibly more broken than when she left it. Whereas, I can step off that cliff you landed on, crash to the earth, and give them both a chance to be whole. I'm already gone. No one loses."

"Except we step off that cliff unafraid," Ig replied, "I never feel afraid when I fly. I know my mission and how I am going to get there."

"Well, you've never been human," Eres said pushing off the ground so she'd swing higher, "Flying is the the most terrifying, yet freeing thing at the same time."

"I trust you'll know what to do," he said.

"Indeed."

Eres pumped her legs so the swing would go higher. Ig spread his wings and with a leap, disappeared into the horizon. As he cleared the treetops, she saw a figure in the distance staring over the cliffs.

"Sydney!"

**Sydney**

I ran until I was out of breath and looked out on to the rocky wilderness before me. A landscape of snow covered peaks and valleys with darkness at its edge. I was lost, couldn't find Eres, and had no idea what was going on.

In the distance I saw what looked like a crow or dark bird flying into the horizon.

"Eres! Eres where are you?" I screamed into the rocky wilderness before me.

"Sydney! Sydney, I'm here!" I heard her call out behind me.

"Eres? Eres? Eres, tell me where to go! Please, just save Adam and Ellie! Forget about me! Just watch over them!" I cried spinning around looking for where her voice was coming from as the world became darker and darker around me.

"Sydney!" I heard Eres cry from further away than I heard it before.

Now it was pitch black, and I fell to the soft earth. The smell of dirt and grass enveloping me, as Eres's voice echoed off into the distance and I became sleepy.

"Sydney, wait!" I heard for the last time as I drifted off to sleep.

## CHAPTER TWELVE

##

VORTESTRA STOOD IN the steamy bathroom as Scott climbed into the full bathtub, bottle of Jack Daniels in hand with puffy tear-stained eyes. She watched as he took a long pull from the bottle and began to silently sob as the hot water continued to run.

The angel stood there while Scott turned off the water and sank back into the water weeping as he drank some more from the bottle, then got out of the tub and went to the medicine cabinet. As the mirrors fogged, he opened the door and grabbed a bottle of pills.

Vortestra stepped behind him so they locked eyes in the mirror, and she laid a hand on his back, sending a warm and comforting feeling through his entire body, yet he still startled at her presence.

"Shhhh," she said, "Just take two, and get back in the tub. All will be well."

He startled at her presence as he gazed at her through the cloudy mirror.

"Just two," she purred again, "It'll be enough to make the pain go away."

Scott shook two pills into his hand, washed them down with the bottle he carried in, and returned to the tub, giving the angel a sideways, yet silent glance as he climbed in.

"Take as many drinks as you need Scott. You will see Sydney soon. You are not afraid."

**Sydney**

****

****

I woke up from my slumber on another wood floor, only it wasn't the rough and bare boards of the hallway. This floor was smooth and varnished, and the space around me had a faint vanilla scent. I immediately knew where I was.

Adam's house.

Well, depending on what reality we were going with, it was either Adam's house or our house. I loved the smell of vanilla, and wanted it around me at all times. I sat up and looked around, adjusting my eyes to the light, and while it was Adam's house as I knew it from my first memories, I also knew it was my house from my new memories. I was in the living room with its overstuffed couches, large television mounted on the wall, and a toybox in the corner.

I pulled myself to my feet and explored the rest of the space around me. From the living room, I walked into the dining room with a simple farm table for six; a booster seat secured to a chair at the head of the table, and went into the kitchen where dinner dishes lay in the sink.

I was home. My new home. The home I had always wanted.

I walked back through the living room and went up the stairs. The bedroom Adam and I shared was upstairs to the right, decorated as I would have wanted, and down the hall was Ellie's room. I stood in the doorway taking it all in. I could remember it once being a nursery with a crib and a rocking chair, then becoming a little girl's room as she grew. My heart filled with joy in this hallway as every milestone I experienced with her and Adam entered my entire being.

After a few moments, I left Ellie's room and made my way down the hall to the last two bedrooms. One an indescript guest room that I immediately remembered was occupied by Adam's parents on their last visit.

I smiled remembering that visit, and made my way to the last room. In it sat a baby grand piano, and tears filled my eyes while I smiled. That was Adam's wedding present to me. I suddenly remembered how he surprised me with the piano and insisted on having it placed upstairs in this room so I could play whatever I wanted and have privacy if I needed it. There was sound proof foam covering the walls, and I laughed softly to myself remembering how laborious it was to have all of this done, and how I scoffed, but Adam wanted it that way so I would have my own space.

I left that room and made my way back to the stairs, sitting down on the top step. I knew what had happened. I was in my Hereafter. Clearly, the sleepiness I had felt meant I had died. Even though I hadn't actually lived this life, I could remember it, and it brought me tremendous joy. I didn't feel any sadness, only a warm acceptance. I did the best I could on my Journey, but yet, I had died anyway. At least I had died this way. I could be here in a place I loved, yet hadn't lived, and could watch over Ellie and Adam forever. The anger and sadness I had felt in Eres's Hereafter had left me and I was at peace. This was home, whether I actually got to live it or not. The love I had for Ellie and Adam was deep in my heart, and there was a quiet tranquility in that.

Eres had her painting, and I had my happy home.

As I sat there, I looked at all of the pictures on the wall, and remembered each and every event they captured, my heart filling with joy. So it was decided. I was dead. There was a contentment in that. As Jesus said, "It is finished."

I still had a memory of both lives. I preferred this one. I had loved, been loved, and was ready to accept my fate. I wouldn't grow old with my husband, or see my daughter grow up in life, but I could observe them from here. The sounds, smells, and experiences I never lived, yet remembered were all around me.

This was my Hereafter. I had no idea what that meant just yet, but I had no feeling to fight it or want to live anymore. It felt right.

I sighed, stood up, and made my way down the stairs and ended up in the living room. I sat on the couch and pulled out a large photo album from the bottom of a coffee table when I heard a knock on the door.

"Eres?" I called out as I walked over to the foyer and the front door. Maybe she found me and could explain what was happening.

I turned the knob and opened the door, expecting Eres, but not prepared for who I saw on the other side of the threshold.

"Oh God, it's you," I blurted out.

Eres jumped off the swing, and ran toward the figure in the distance. However as she got closer, the figure faded away.

"No!" Eres screamed, "Sydney!"

Still running to the spot where she saw the figure, she kept calling out for Sydney, and also Ig. What was happening? Had it already been decided? Were Sydney or Adam dead?

As she reached the spot where she saw who believed to be Sydney standing, Eres's Hereafter faded away and she found herself in the darkened hallway. She spun around looking for signs of Sydney, Ig, Adam, or anyone who could explain what was happening.

In the distance she could still see the window illuminated. Eres dashed over to see what was happening. The scene before her was Sydney in her hospital bed unchanged from how she had been this entire time. Her father and stepmother were in the room, so Eres knew Sydney was somewhere in the afterlife, but nowhere to be found.

"Show me Adam," Eres whispered into the glass. Adam's current reality appeared and Eres let out a sigh of relief. He too, remained unchanged from the last time she and Sydney observed this plane of existence.

Eres turned and called out for Sydney or Ig again, and began walking down the hallway where the doors once were, only one remained. Eres knew why this door was here. It wasn't Sydney's door. It was hers.

She had a decision to make.

Eres grasped the doorknob and cracked the door, a gust of cold wind rushing through the opening. Steeling herself, she opened the door all the way and walked through.

She had made her decision.

## CHAPTER THIRTEEN

##

**SYDNEY**

****

I stood in the doorway not believing my own eyes.

"Hello, Sydney."

It was Scott. In my Hereafter.

I immediately began to panic. This wasn't right.

"No! No, no, no. NO!" I screamed backing away from the door into the living room. Scott, dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, looking as he always did followed me in and shut the door behind him.

"Sydney, I-I-I," he tried to begin, but I cut him off.

"What are you _doing_ here, Scott. What is going on?"

"I don't know, I was so upset after what Adam said had happened to you, that I came home, grabbed a bottle of Jack, drank half of it, took a couple of Xanax to settle me down, and I wound up here on Adam's doorstep and you're here."

I rubbed my temples, "Of course you OD'ed in a bathub. How very cliche of you."

Suddenly I realized something, "Wait a minute, you said you talked to Adam? Tonight?"

"Od'ed? You mean I died? You're dead?" Scott asked frantically.

"I don't know. I don't even know if I'm dead," I responded, "Scott, I need you to focus on one thing at a time right now. Did you talk to Adam tonight?"

"Yeah," he replied, "He was trying to find your next of kin because you may not live through the night after the accident. He also wanted to kick my ass because he blames me for what happened," tears welled up in Scott's blue eyes as he looked at me, "And he was right to blame me. I am so sorry I hurt you Sydney. I will never forgive myself. I do love you, but I loved being selfish more. I had everything, and I didn't want to give any of it up. I'm so sorry."

Scott stepped forward to embrace me, but I backed away, causing him to sob harder.

"Sydney," he whispered.

I simply stood there looking at him, not believing that minutes before I got in my car, I wanted this man on my doorstep saying these words to me because I thought they were what I needed to fix everything. Now I only saw a pathetic man crying for himself when it was too late.

"Adam's still alive then," I said out loud to no one in particular. If Scott came here from the first plane, that means the new plane was still in flux, and so were we.

Leaving Scott crying where he stood, I walked over to the front door to see if I could get out of here and find out what was going on, but the door was locked. I had just opened it to let Scott in a few minutes ago, but now it was locked. I walked over to try the windows, they were also locked.

"Eres!" I called out, "Eres! What is happening? Eres!"

"Who's Eres?" Scott asked.

"Long story," I answered lowering myself on the couch, "What do you remember before showing up here? Anything?"

Scott sighed and sat in the chair across from me, "I told you. I was in the tub, I got out to take a couple of pills. I thought about taking the whole bottle, but something told me to take just two. I got back into the tub, cried, and suddenly I'm dressed and on Adam's doorstep. And you're here. Why are you here?"

"Again, that's a long story. One I don't have time to explain right now. I guess we just sit here and wait until something happens and we figure out what's going on."

"Good, there's so much I want to say to you," Scott said.

"No. We are not talking. I don't have anything to say to you. Whatever it is you feel, you're going to have to work out on your own. I want no part of a life like that again."

"Sydney," Scott began again with fresh tears welling up in his eyes, "I was so wrong. I love you so much. Knowing you could die destroyed me."

I looked at him incredulously, "Do you ever not make everything about yourself, Scott? Like, _anything_? The last two years... I sat around taking care of you and waiting. Endlessly waiting. Hurry up and wait, Sydney. I know you eat dinner and sleep alone every night, Sydney, and it's slowly killing you inside, but _I'm_ not ready yet. You're a fucking coward, Scott. A coward who instead of staying at the hospital and face the fact I might live or die like a man, you ran home and climbed in the bathtub. That's love to you? Destroying me daily for years so nothing would have to be uncomfortable for you, is love? We always had to navigate your shit, your consequences. Never once did you ask yourself, "What about Sydney?" Especially that night at the conference when you fucked me that afternoon, and then paraded your wife around two hours later, snuggling like a happily married couple."

Tears now freely flowed down Scott's cheeks, he was a pitiful sight, but I wasn't done.

"You came after me in that hallway. Not to apologize or tell me you love me, you came after me to punish me for making life a little hard for you. I wasn't the one lying to everyone and the house of cards tumbled, that was you. All you. Yet I was going to be your scapegoat, because you take personal responsibility for nothing. Do you know how I am almost dead, Scott? Do you know what happened?"

"Adam said it was a car accident," Scott said quietly.

"Yes. But let me paint you a picture of that night. Remember how you screamed at me in that hallway that I had put myself in that position because I allowed myself to be put there? You basically said in not so many words that you were justified in using me as a toy because I offered myself up like one. All of the love, patience, and work I put into _us_ , because _you_ said there was a future meant nothing to you. Nothing. Nobody put a gun to your head and made you do it, Scott. Nobody painted you into a corner and told you to cheat on your wife and plan a future with me," I scolded, "Imagine if someone had done that to you. You love someone so much, you give them everything you have and they basically call you a stupid person because it was all bullshit."

"It wasn't bullshit, Sydney, I do love you," Scott pleaded softly. However, my anger and his audience made me want to finish what I had to say, more than I wanted to listen to anything he responded with.

"So after that moment at the convention, I went on a bender. I holed up in my house, and decided I was going to give up and drink myself to death. For two weeks straight, I cried and drank. You didn't call me. You didn't check on me. You didn't apologize. You ghosted. The night of the accident, I argued with Adam and threw him out of my house because he was done with watching me self-destruct over the likes of you. I threw my last glass of wine at him, so I went out and got more. Drunk. I drove drunk. And when I was almost home, my phone rang. I thought it was you which gave me so much joy because you were the only thing I wanted in those two weeks. I wanted you to call, take back what you said, and make it right by me, so I reached over to answer the call, my foot slipped off the brake, and I was creamed by a dump truck," I motioned around us, "And here we are. Fucking limbo. I am in fucking limbo, when I want to live, but somehow it got more complicated than that, and for whatever reason, you're sitting here, so now maybe I'm in purgatory."

"You didn't call me that night, did you?" I asked him.

"No, I didn't," he answered with his eyes on the floor refusing to meet mine.

"No. You didn't. I don't know what's going to happen, Scott, but I do know this. No matter the outcome, you're going to have a lot on your conscience. You are toxic, selfish, and a coward. You'll either care or you won't, but it's no longer my problem. When all is said and done, you'll never hurt me or anyone I love again. That I do know."

## CHAPTER FOURTEEN

##

THE CHAMBER OF the Council of Angels became quiet when Ig entered. He walked to the front of the room and turned to address the gathering.

"I have spoken to The Guide. She is aware of the consequences of such a decision. I do believe she will break the plane and interfere."

The room became noisy again as the other angels expressed their feelings on the subject. Vortestra stood and held her hand up to silence the crowd again.

"And I have brought in another scenario, that may very well change The Journey's mind."

Incredulously, Ig turned to Vortestra, "And what is that?"

"I sent someone to visit The Journey. The man who altered her destiny."

There was an audible gasp and the room again filled with murmuring and chatter.

"You _intervened_?" Ig asked not trying to hide his astonishment.

"I'd hardly say I intervened," Vortestra said smugly, "I simply created another option. If her love for this man would cause her not to value her own life, maybe him coming to her now will change that. It could solve our problem. He's simply having a fever dream right now. No balance has been affected."

"Echoine!" Ig addressed the Dominion again overseeing this meeting, "This is not acceptable! How is a Virtue interfering in the outcome any better than The Guide interfering? The Journey's destiny has been decided. That is why she was able to leave the first plane and journey to another plane. This man sent to her is from the first plane and does, in fact, create a huge imbalance! Now The Journey is locked in her Hereafter with this man who shouldn't be near this until someone intervenes. She cannot go backwards. If she does, all are lost, and it will create a vacuum like none we've seen before. It's time to get the Divine involved."

"Yes," Echoine began, "This has become quite messy now, hasn't it? We can get the Divine Power involved to rectify this, but that also robs The Journey of her free will, and no destiny can be realized without free will. She has chosen this destiny twice, and as far as I can see, she continues to choose it in her hereafter even with the Virtue's interference. The Guide has also just broken the plane."

"What?" Ig and Vortestra asked in unison.

Echoine flipped her looking glass over to show the room her view.

"She has gone through the door," Echoine began, "If she succeeds in her interference, we have even bigger problems than the one we're facing right now. What do you suggest we do, Ig?"

"Make The Guide an angel, so she swiftly succeeds in her interference. I will handle the rest," He glanced at Vortestra, "Without any meddling from Virtues."

"So be it," Echoine stated with a strike of the gavel, "I will head to The Guide."

## CHAPTER FIFTEEN

##

ERES STEPPED THROUGH the doorway into the cold wind that was blowing. The dull gray winter afternoon in Michigan had the familiar overcast glow she had remembered. It had snowed recently, and it added to the dreariness of the landscape.

She knew Sydney had to be alive right now, or this door wouldn't have existed. The second plane was still in place so nothing had been decided yet.

Eres knew she was about to change that.

She looked around and noticed she was on Main St. This was midpoint between the bar, her former home, and where Stan lived and worked. Twenty years had passed, so Stanley would most definitely be retired by now. The door entered here, so she must be close to where he is right now.

Eres knew Stan had to die, but she wasn't quite certain how to make that happen. He wouldn't be able to see her, and she wouldn't be able to manipulate anything around her physically. Guides can make themselves known through electricity. A flickering of the light, a short in a switch; that's really the only communication they are able to have with the living world.

She turned her attention to the intersection ahead of her, and the traffic lights swinging from their wires in the cold winter wind. Maybe that's how she could do it. Somehow make the traffic lights malfunction as Stan was either driving or walking through the intersection. Eres didn't like that idea, because it may harm another person and create a bigger problem in the balance. She just needed Stanley dead. Not anyone else.

Eres's concentration was broken by the call of a cardinal. It was loud enough to startle her, unusual, because cardinals don't make that much noise. She turned to look at the cardinal on the branch, and when she saw it, she immediately knew what it was.

A Dominion.

Once Eres locked eyes with the bird, the cardinal took flight, and landed in its angel form in front of her. It was Echoine. She knew from the red-tipped wings and white hair cascading around her gold armor. The leader of the Dominions was here and knew what Eres was planning.

Echoine said nothing, but her piercing green eyes gave Eres a knowing glance. She removed her eyes from Eres and looked into the intersection down the sidewalk that went north on Main St. In the distance, Eres saw the familiar shuffle of her murderer as he made his way through the middle of town. Eres continued to stand at the other end of the intersection watching him, and could feel Echoine standing behind her.

Now only a hundred feet away, it was clear that the familiar shuffling figure was Stan. Twenty years older, hair fully gray, stooped posture more pronounced, Eres felt Echoine's hand cup her right elbow, and extend her arm in front of her.

Eres felt the light and energy course through her body through Echoine's touch, and with it her hatred for this man who robbed her of her destiny, hurt her and the ones she loved, and now whose existence would rob yet another innocent of their destiny.

"Never again," Eres said as a loud bang and flash left her outstretched arm and flew like a firey arrow in Stan's direction knocking him down in a single blow. He fell backwards, the crunch of his skull sounding as it smacked the concrete, making the snow turn crimson on the sidewalk around him.

The barbershop he fell in front of, emptied out to assist the bleeding man, but it was too late. His death was instant. Stanley Verona slipped on ice and died on a sidewalk from a head injury on a cold winter's day in Michigan.

"It is done," Echoine spoke her first words, "You know the price for this life. Come with me."

Silently, Eres fell backwards into Echoine as the Dominion folded her arms around her, unfurled her wings, and lifted them both into the sky. As the landscape beneath her grew smaller and smaller, Eres felt a satisfaction rise from within her.

She wouldn't be able to watch the ones she loved anymore, and her Hereafter would be gone forever, but there was comfort in becoming an angel. Angels can do things and protect others. It was a fair trade-off.

## CHAPTER SIXTEEN

##

**SYDNEY**

****

"I am sorry, Syndey, and I promise to change," Scott begged countinuing to look at his feet, "I'll do whatever it takes. I was such a stupid fool. You're right, I am a coward."

"I know," I said back to him flatly, "You can't even say those words and look at me."

Scott heaved a heavy sigh, and we sat in silence for a few moments.

"I have no idea what's going to happen to any of us, Scott," I began, standing up and walking over to the door, "But I have no interest in your pain. I've learned and felt so much through all of this, and I would die happy if it's decided I die. Someone once told me, 'Love isn't possesion,'" I get that now. Love is letting go and letting fate do the rest."

I tried the doorknob again, and as soon as I touched it, there was a crash of thunder and a lightning strike that made me jump back, and startled both Scott and I into letting out screams.

"What was that?" Scott yelled, running to my side by the door.

Before I could answer, the door swung open, and an enormous, gladiator-looking man marched through the doorway, his magnificent black wings tucked behind his back. He was one of the most beautiful beings I had ever seen.

He stood before us, an imposing and commanding presence, "I am Ig, leader of The Powers of the Divine Power. I have come to finish your journey, Sydney."

Ig walked past me, his wings brushing me as he stood before Scott, "Your journey also ends here, Scott. It was a heck of a dream, and you'll probably wake up with a headache."

In a flash, before Scott could even be aware of what was happening, Ig placed his thumb on Scott's forehead, causing a blue light to flash, and when the flash ended, Scott was gone.

Ig turned to face me again. I must have looked terrified, "Fear not, Sydney. All is well."

"What's happening? Are you an angel? Where's Eres? What did you do to Scott? Where's Adam?" I asked frantically.

Ig managed a half smile, "I told you to fear not, Sydney. You have shown tremendous faith this whole time, do not lose it now. I shall answer your questions," the angel took a knee in front of me and his wings relaxed around him, making him look like a gothic statue, "I am here to see you to the end of your journey, as you cannot go alone. No one goes through anything alone whether they realize it or not. I am an angel, and I have come to stand in Eres's place, for she too, is now an angel."

"What?" I asked as tears welled in my eyes, "She's gone? She no longer has her Hereafter?"

"No. Eres balanced the scales of life and death through interfering. When you made the decisions you did, you closed the infinite loop between your life and hers. Your step-father Stan killed Eres twenty years ago."

"Wait, what?" I asked, shocked.

"In your previous life, the first plane, your step-father, Stan, killed Eres, then died shortly after. You remember the day that happened. A massive heart attack. Eres's murder was deemed a simple random home invasion gone wrong, and he was never caught."

I was too shocked to say anything.

Ig continued, "When you went through that first door, and made the decision you did to tell your child-self to run away and have Stan held accountable for hurting you, it closed the infinite loop between you and Eres. Stan would still kill Eres, her destiny couldn't be changed, but he would have spent years in prison first, which slowed the onset of what killed him previously. Stan remaining alive removed a life from the balance. Only you or Eres could reopen the loop. You had no way of knowing—"

"Because she wouldn't interfere by telling me," I said tears flowing freely now, "She did it to protect all of us, and give us the life she saw for her family, and I wanted."

My body now wracking with sobs, I settled myself onto the floor, burying my head in my hands, "I wouldn't have let her do it. I would have chosen to be the one to die!"

Ig placed his large hand on my head, the warmth of his touch envolping me like an embrace, as I continued to cry on the floor, "It wasn't that simple, Sydney. You had done the journey and asked to live twice. The reason you were sent on this path, was to discover the meaning of life and love and how you fit into all of it. Destiny is realized when you learn to let go before doing harm."

I looked up at Ig, "Love is not possession," I whispered.

He nodded, "The Guides can feel everything The Journeys can, and they've seen all of the planes into your destiny, because you're connected through the fate one loses and another gains. Eres knew the second you saw Adam in your hospital room after the accident, you would be brave, because you would absorb the pain of courage instead of allowing him the pain of another grief. You accepted responsibility and forged ahead, knowing he unconditionally loved you. Death wasn't an option for you at that point. Eres knew her destiny had also changed when the loop closed."

"So what is Eres's destiny now?" I asked, wiping the tears off my face with the back of my hand.

"She is an angel now."

"Like you?"

"No, she is a Dominion. The diplomats of the Angelic realm," he answered, "I am one of The Powers, a foot soldier, if you will. The Powers intercede outside the earthly planes. We manage the spirit world. The Dominions intercede to establish balance between the earthly planes."

I smiled wistfully, "She's a fixer, now."

Ig nodded, "Essentially. When you see cardinals on the earthly plane, those are the Dominions interceding. So while her Hereafter has changed, I'm sure she's going to be around. Do not be sad for her. Angels work hard, and have many burdens, but they are not trapped in their Hereafters. They are free."

"What happens now?" I asked.

Ig took his hand off my head, and placed both hands on my shoulders, looking deep into my eyes. He unfurled his wings to their full length, as they filled the whole room.

"You go home and live the rest of your destiny."

## CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

##

MY EYES FLUTTERED open to a blinding white light overhead.

"Chris! Chris! Go get someone! Sydney opened her eyes!" I heard a woman's excited voice shout from somewhere around me. I heard a set of footsteps leave the room hurriedly while I tried to focus my eyes.

"Sydney! Sydney, sweetheart, can you hear me? It's Betty."

I heard a stampede of footsteps enter the room with many voices I couldn't quite make out around them. I was now able to see shadows, and feel myself getting poked and prodded by several sets of hands.

I soon felt the tube down my throat and began to panic as I could feel the air being pushed and pulled into my lungs from the ventilator.

"She's fighting the vent!" I heard another woman's voice call out.

"Sydney, if you can hear me, I need you to calm down," a man's voice said over my head, "You're in the hospital after an accident."

I became sleepy again as they sedated me, but before I drifted off, I heard my father joyfully call out to me, "I knew it wasn't time, Sydney!"

It wasn't time for me to die.

I had died just to live.

**Epilogue**

****

The road to recovery for Adam and I was a long one after I woke up that day. He was released from the hospital after his last surgery, but I had to do months of rehab to recuperate from my injuries, which were severe. I had to relearn everything— walking, talking, feeding myself, but Adam and Ellie visited me everyday, and I was able to be back home in a few months just before Christmas.

For my Christmas present that year, I had asked Adam's parents for the painting hanging in their dining room his sister, Erin, finished before she was killed. For whatever reason, I was drawn to it now, and wanted it around me. They obliged, and now the painting hung in our living room as the center piece to the wall that held our family pictures.

"Are you sure you want it there?" Adam kept asking me, "Don't you think it's a bit cluttered?"

Maybe it was a bit much, but it seemed right to hang it there. I was calming for me to enjoy a cup of tea and get lost in looking at it. It made me feel peaceful and happy. I imagined the golden fields, the tall oak trees, and the bluest of skies, and it felt like I was there. It felt familiar.

I don't remember anything about the accident after it went white. However, I do feel like the accident changed me in every way. I appreciate the love, joy, pain, and sadness life has to offer, and I know I will never go through it alone.

While I was at the rehab center, Adam told me Stan's parole officer had called to inform us of his death. He slipped and fell on ice and suffered a head injury that killed him instantly. I felt it somewhat ironic that I was in rehab recovering from a head injury while he died from one.

I also found out that Scott Thompson had resigned from Southwest Dynamics after the accident, went to rehab, and was not heard of much since that fateful night.

Today, as I was enjoying my morning coffee looking at the painting, now almost a year after the accident, I heard Ellie's bounding little footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Mommy! Can we go to the park today?" She asked brightly wiggling her way into my lap.

"Sure, sweetheart," I obliged, "We'll head out after breakfast."

After breakfast and wrangling an excited five-year old into her shoes, we set off for the park. I sat on a park bench and watched Ellie go up and down the slide, embodying pure unabandoned joy. I smiled to myself.

My life was a gift.

I caught a flash of red near my feet and looked down. A cardinal was slurping up an earthworm at the edge of a drying puddle. Once done with its meal, it cocked its head and took a moment to study me.

"Well, hello there, cardinal," I said, "You're a brave one."

The bird gave a quick nod, and leaped into the air to take flight to a tree just outside the park, and sat on a branch observing the world around it.

Ellie came running up to me, "Did you see that red bird, Mommy? It's so pretty! It was so close to you! You could've pet it!"

"I did see it," I said pointing to the tree, "There it is, up there watching us."
