* * *
~Little liars. Those voices that whisper inside my head. They say that I am normal. That the others are all insane. That only I truly exist in this world of vast, empty space. 'They' (all the others) are merely holograms or robots or... something. Something not real. They cannot feel as I feel. They cannot even see me most of the time. And those few nice ones? They are the most phony of them all...~
Ariadne felt someone plow into her from behind as she walked down the school hallway carrying her books. She fell forward on her hands and knees her books and pencils scattering everywhere. She heard the person who had fallen over her getting up and glanced up at him. "Sorry kid. Didn't see you there." The boy laughed and jogged away. Araidne sighed and reached to gather her books. ~Didn't see me there.~ She thought to herself. ~That's alright, no one ever does.~
As she reached for her social studies book, another hand reached down and picked it up before her. Looking up she saw the school principle kneeling there. He smiled at her compassionately and continued helping stack her books.
Ariadne's face burned and she could not look at him as she gathered up the pencils and pens that had burst out of her pencil case when she fell. "Here." Principle Myers said and collected a whole handful of pencils in one large hand depositing them safely back in her pencil case.
Ariadne slid the last pen into the case and shut it. "Thank you." She murmured barely audibly.
"You're welcome young lady." Principle Myers said and stood. Ariadne stood too, but kept her eyes downcast studying the floor. Myers studied her, her long stringy brown hair falling in her face from her slumped posture and defeated expression. "You know Ariadne, some days are just like this." He watched her slowly lift her eyes to look up at him and wondered if she was aware of the sadness emanating from her gaze.
Ariadne's face burned and she could not look at him as she gathered up the pencils and pens that had burst out of her pencil case when she fell. "Here." Principle Myers said and collected a whole handful of pencils in one large hand depositing them safely back in her pencil case.
Ariadne slid the last pen into the case and shut it. "Thank you." She murmured barely audibly.
"You're welcome young lady." Principle Myers said and stood. Ariadne stood too, but kept her eyes downcast studying the floor. Myers studied her, her long stringy brown hair falling in her face from her slumped posture and defeated expression. "You know Ariadne, some days are just like this." He watched her slowly lift her eyes to look up at him and wondered if she was aware of the sadness emanating from her gaze.
"Every day is like this." She said with a flat, emotionless tone.
"But you're a strong girl. You'll make it through." He replied as though he had not heard her, which once more did not surprise her. Ariadne shifted her books into a straighter pile in her arms and started to move away dismissively. "You're very special."
His words stopped her for a moment. Without looking at him, she muttered, "No I'm not." She slung her backpack onto her shoulder and walked away. Myers watched her go and sighed heavily. The girl must be told the truth. And soon. It wasn't fair to make her suffer so.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Ariadne walked home alone and closed the door behind her. "I'm home ma!" She called, but received no response. She never did.
"But you're a strong girl. You'll make it through." He replied as though he had not heard her, which once more did not surprise her. Ariadne shifted her books into a straighter pile in her arms and started to move away dismissively. "You're very special."
His words stopped her for a moment. Without looking at him, she muttered, "No I'm not." She slung her backpack onto her shoulder and walked away. Myers watched her go and sighed heavily. The girl must be told the truth. And soon. It wasn't fair to make her suffer so.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Ariadne walked home alone and closed the door behind her. "I'm home ma!" She called, but received no response. She never did.
Sitting her book-bag and coat beside the door, she pulled out a test sheet and went to the living room to find her mother. This routine never varied. Her mother was exactly where she expected her, on the living room couch pretending to watch a soap opera and crying. She did not look up as Ariadne entered the room. "Mom?" She tried softly. No response. She had not expected one.
Sighing, she stepped out of the living room and walked down the hall to her father's study and knocked on the door. No response, but then again, he never replied either. She opened the door slowly. Faint hope kindled in her frail smile this time, as she slid her test paper onto the desk in front of him. He stared at it vaguely. "I got an 'A'. Our studying paid off." Her father looked at the paper, lifted a finger to lovingly trace the grade, then covered his face with his hands. Ariadne's hopeful smile faded in dejection. She was never surprised, but you would think after all this time that the let-down would begin to hurt less. The sharpness of the pain never changed either in the same way her interaction with her parents did not.
She left the test paper lying where it was and went to move her backpack and coat to her room. Once there, she sat in her favorite chair by the window and looked out at her backyard in the full glory of autumn. As her eyes distantly noted the multi-colored beauty of the oak tree whose leaves were strewn like tears in the yellowing grass, her reflection struck the window-glass like a mirror. A very pale, sad little girl of about eight stared out only half visible in the thick glass. She watched the tree swing creak slowly, forlornly in the crisp breeze as leaves trickled like multi-colored stars around it. Her bicycle lay on its side in the uncut grass as forgotten as she was. She'd given up learning how to ride a long time ago. At first her father had helped her, held her hand as she pedaled. But eventually even that effort seemed too much for him and he had quit coming out. He went to work mechanically and returned home the same way now to stare at a blank canvas on his desk that he should have been filling with blue-prints and building plans. She wasn't sure how he managed to keep his job when he never created the plans he was paid to produce.
"What did I do?" She whispered to herself, unaware that she spoke aloud. "Why do they hate me so?"
Sighing, she stepped out of the living room and walked down the hall to her father's study and knocked on the door. No response, but then again, he never replied either. She opened the door slowly. Faint hope kindled in her frail smile this time, as she slid her test paper onto the desk in front of him. He stared at it vaguely. "I got an 'A'. Our studying paid off." Her father looked at the paper, lifted a finger to lovingly trace the grade, then covered his face with his hands. Ariadne's hopeful smile faded in dejection. She was never surprised, but you would think after all this time that the let-down would begin to hurt less. The sharpness of the pain never changed either in the same way her interaction with her parents did not.
She left the test paper lying where it was and went to move her backpack and coat to her room. Once there, she sat in her favorite chair by the window and looked out at her backyard in the full glory of autumn. As her eyes distantly noted the multi-colored beauty of the oak tree whose leaves were strewn like tears in the yellowing grass, her reflection struck the window-glass like a mirror. A very pale, sad little girl of about eight stared out only half visible in the thick glass. She watched the tree swing creak slowly, forlornly in the crisp breeze as leaves trickled like multi-colored stars around it. Her bicycle lay on its side in the uncut grass as forgotten as she was. She'd given up learning how to ride a long time ago. At first her father had helped her, held her hand as she pedaled. But eventually even that effort seemed too much for him and he had quit coming out. He went to work mechanically and returned home the same way now to stare at a blank canvas on his desk that he should have been filling with blue-prints and building plans. She wasn't sure how he managed to keep his job when he never created the plans he was paid to produce.
"What did I do?" She whispered to herself, unaware that she spoke aloud. "Why do they hate me so?"
~Because you are invisible to them.~ The despised voice responded in her mind. She lifted the heel of her hand to her temple and closed her eyes wincing in pain. "Shut up!" She ordered it firmly, though the words were strangled. "Just shut up."
A few hours later, she finished her homework and went down to supper. She knew her mother had called her father to dinner, but he had not responded. So her mother sat alone smoking a cigarette and staring at the wall calender, but did not eat. Ariadne slid into her chair and watched her mother as she ate wondering if she'd ever move aside from smoking her cigarette. She didn't. So Ariadne cleared away the dishes, scraped her mother and father's untouched meals into the garbage, washed, dried, and put the plates away. She tried to hum to herself as she worked. Sometimes that helped. Her parents used to sing with her all the time. Tonight the tune she meant to hum felt formless, as though the edges of the pages of notes in her memory were graying and fading away into silence. She gave up when her throat dried and the sound refused to come out at all. Without torturing herself further by looking at her mother's blank face again, she went back upstairs and got ready for bed.
Kneeling by her bedside in her nightgown, Ariadne folded her hands and looked up as she said her bed-time prayers. There was the usual, God bless mom and dad, make me a good little girl, forgive me for the bad things I've done. Tonight, however, she cut those things off shortly after starting. She wanted to ask the questions that she always had in her head, but had never been brave enough to utter to God. She wanted answers, but she didn't dare to hope for them. Still, she would ask and see if asking God, unlike anyone else, would result in a reply. "God... why am I so invisible to everyone? Why does no one know that I'm here? They think of me, and they love me. I know they do. But they stare straight through me as though I don't exist and I'm standing right here! What did I do to everyone to make them ignore me this way?" Ariadne actually knelt there for several minutes waiting for something, ANYthing to break the aching silence in her mind... But nothing - no one - did. Unclasping her hands resignedly, she slid into bed and slept till morning.
* * *
Ariadne felt a shoe in her back and tripped yet again. This time, the boy did not even stop to acknowledge her. He just got up and continued hurrying to class. ~Two days in a row, well that's somewhat new.~ she thought to herself as she gathered up her books. Today, the hand did not reach down to help with her books, but when she'd gathered most of them herself and stood, Principal Myers was there again.
"Ariadne, would you come with me please?" She looked down at the two books that were still on the floor, but he waved them away before she could say anything. "Leave them." He said dismissively and turned to walk to his office. Ariadne's forehead wrinkled in confusion, but she set the stack of books down beside the fallen ones and did as he'd said.
She had never been in the principle's office before. The school office, yes, but not his personal office. As he took a seat behind his desk, she looked around curiously. He had a very large bookcase filled with books and she was surprised to see, among the esoteric books of learning a strong showing of children's selections as well, even fairy-tale stories and a few that she had never heard of before. This was saying something as she was an avid reader and had thought she'd read about every kids book (and some grown-up books with no pictures)that there was to read. Certainly she'd exhausted the children's section in the school's library and was well into the young adults section. There were stuffed hunting trophies, a fox standing on a branch and looking back over its shoulder, a raccoon holding a fish with faux glass water dripping from its fins, some kind of hawk looking sternly out of glass eyes. Framed awards with glossy-starred stickers filled several squares of wall and there was a basketball trophy on a wall-mounted rack.
Principle Myers let her look for several moments hands laced together on his desk, then finally spoke breaking her attention away from the decor of his office. "Ariande, do you know why I asked you in here today?" She tore her eyes away from the large lead-glass paperweight on his desk and shrugged at him. He hesitated as though choosing heavy words with exceedingly great care. "I've watched you every day you've come to school here Ariadne. From your first day of kindergarden to this year." He paused as though waiting for a reaction, but Ariadne did not know what response he wanted, so gave none at all. He continued. "Do you remember the start of school this year Ariadne? Any of it at all?"
Ariadne was perplexed. Her mind wandered through the first day of school, the new spring outfit she'd been so pleased to wear and how excited she'd been to show it off. She remembered laughing arm and arm with her friends as they skipped in a line into the school-doors. She remembered meeting her new teacher and answering the teacher's question about what she had done that summer... Lunch. Grilled cheese. Then recess... Her mind faltered in its recitation. Then.... to her surprise, she found that she couldn't remember anything after that at all... "I..." She said and trailed off as completely as her internal recitation of memories had. Her forehead wrinkled again in confusion.
"I thought as much." Principle Myers stated knowingly. She looked up at him. How could HE have known she couldn't remember more than that? "Ariadne," His voice had turned gentle and he looked at her with pity. Ariadne's features hardened into a scowl. If there was anything she hated more than being constantly ignored, it was being looked upon with condescension - or pity. He noticed the change of expression, but did not comment on it. "Do you remember playing dodge-ball a recess?" A wave of dread moved over her numbing her from the top of her head down to her toes, but she could not understand why. "Do you remember the ball bouncing into the street? The car?" In her mind, the sound of screeching tires and a car horn sounded like the crash of a waterfall. And she heard a little girl's scream.
Her face went slack in terror. "I think I want to go now Principle." She said numbly wanting to rise, but finding herself unable to do so. Her body refused to obey.
"Ariadne," Myers said in gentle reproof. As quickly as realization was stealing across the girl's face, he could see disbelief and dismissal chasing close behind. "No one can see you here because you died. That car killed you."
Ariadne shook her head slowly her lips turning a dark blue. "No..."
"You know I'm telling you the truth." Myers said.
Ariadne shook her head violently now, her face contorting in pain. "No!"
He stood and laid a hand on her shoulder. She jerked violently away from him. ~No, this wasn't happening. This was crazy. This was... this wasn't true.~ But the echo of the car tires shrieking and her own scream repeated mercilessly in her mind. Then the silence... the blackness...
Principle Myers seem neither surprised nor affronted by her reaction. He watched her lift her hands to grasp her dark hair in white-fisted fingers of angst. Then, he reached for the door handle. "Come with me Ariadne." He turned away for a moment, then back again as she had not moved. "Come on."
Ariadne lowered her arms and laid them on the armrests. Without her will, the arms pushed against the arm-rests levering her up and to her feet. He was right. She had to follow. She must. She did not know why.
* * *
As she followed him through the doorway, her surroundings dissolved into sudden familiarity. "What are we doing at my house?" She whispered in disbelief.
"Isn't this where we should be?" Principle Myers had become a pair of legs again with a voice somewhere above from her child's-eye vision.
Ariadne did not reply, but she realized that he was right. This was where they should be. Her panic was ebbing quickly now. Calm had been restored as it could not have been in the school office. She looked up at him and took his hand. Myers led her into the kitchen where her mother still sat smoking and staring at the wall calender. "She didn't smoke." Ariadne said thoughtfully as this piece of information fell into place.
"No, she didn't." Myers replied. "An old habit from her younger years that she recently returned to. It happens sometimes when tragedy strikes."
She let go of his hand and approached her mother. "Mom?" She asked softly her face very close to her mother's. Her mother did not move or look up. "Why does she stare like that?" She asked Myers.
"Nothing interests her here anymore. She can't see what she wants to here, so she simply blocks everything out but her memories."
Ariadne looked up, her eyes filling with emotion. "Memories of me?"
He nodded. "And of your father, and the times you had together. But mostly of you. When she was pregnant with you, the day you were born, your first day of school. Your last day of school." Still trying to absorb all of this, Ariadne did not reply. He walked on.
They entered her father's study. He too was in the same place he had been before, but he was looking out the window now, as she herself had done earlier, and she saw tears streaked down his strong face. "Daddy?" She asked and reached forward to touch his face. Her hand passed through him as though she was made of smoke, while looking so solid to her own eyes. She gasped, and slowly, slowly her eyes lifted to look up at Principle Myers again.
They were in her room now. "Why am I still here if I've--- Why can I move around and do things and say things if I'm... if I'm dead?" She asked.
"You are still here because you died so suddenly. Because it made so little sense. And because you did not want to go."
Ariadne thought about that for a long time. She thought of how she had tried to speak to her parents, how her father had still studied for the test with her, how her mother had still fixed a plate for her at the dinner table. How she had moved about unknowing all this time and could still feel the bitter burning of their disregard. "But why would God let me stay here like this and hurt without knowing what has been happening?!" She cried in desperation as tears blurred her vision.
"Sometimes, if the will to live is strong enough, if there is sufficient doubt, by the deceased or a loved one, God makes the decision to allow you to remain for a time. To give you all a chance to say 'goodbye'."
"So... if I say ---" She could barely form the word. "Goodbye," The word was physically painful to her. She swallowed painfully and started again. "If I say 'goodbye' to them... then I will disappear?"
"Well, no. Not entirely, and not right away. They have to let you go too."
"Let me go?" She asked, not understanding.
"Yes, and that is by far the most difficult part, child. First you must let go of them, and they must let go of you." He said gently.
They were both quiet for quite some time, if time truly existed here. Finally, she spoke again. "What will happen to me when we've all said 'goodbye'?"
"Well, you will go on. A part of you will always remain. Because they will always remember you. But you will not be here. Not in this form anyway. You won't have to go through the day-to-day motions of being attached to their world. Right now, their lives have ceased to function around them, even though the rest of the world continues to move. They both love and hate their memories of you. Hate them because they hurt so much, and love them because they love you, and those memories are a part of you. They may wish the world did not go on, hate it for going on without them. Without you. It makes no sense to them that everything outside did not stop moving and mourn when they did. That the world can live when you have died. But once they've let you go, you can move on, you won't feel their hatred anymore or their pain, and their world can begin turning again.
"Well, no. Not entirely, and not right away. They have to let you go too."
"Let me go?" She asked, not understanding.
"Yes, and that is by far the most difficult part, child. First you must let go of them, and they must let go of you." He said gently.
They were both quiet for quite some time, if time truly existed here. Finally, she spoke again. "What will happen to me when we've all said 'goodbye'?"
"Well, you will go on. A part of you will always remain. Because they will always remember you. But you will not be here. Not in this form anyway. You won't have to go through the day-to-day motions of being attached to their world. Right now, their lives have ceased to function around them, even though the rest of the world continues to move. They both love and hate their memories of you. Hate them because they hurt so much, and love them because they love you, and those memories are a part of you. They may wish the world did not go on, hate it for going on without them. Without you. It makes no sense to them that everything outside did not stop moving and mourn when they did. That the world can live when you have died. But once they've let you go, you can move on, you won't feel their hatred anymore or their pain, and their world can begin turning again.
It will never turn in the same way for them. And they will see your shadow sometimes when they walk along familiar paths, see a flower that you liked, drive past your school, look at a picture. But just reflections." Ariadne looked over at the window and saw that she was still sitting there motionless in the chair staring out at the yard. Her reflection still showed in the window-glass. "They'll learn to live in their changed world. And you won't have to watch them just...standing still."
He watched her think about this and her face slowly show understanding. "The voice I keep hearing in my head... It's not entirely wrong, is it?"
He watched her think about this and her face slowly show understanding. "The voice I keep hearing in my head... It's not entirely wrong, is it?"
"No." He replied. "Not entirely. Some of your own fears got mixed up in there. But they've never hated you, or been angry with you. Just the pain that comes from the memories. Just as you have felt their pain, they have felt your confusion, and your loss as well as their own."
Ariadne turned this over and over in her mind. Finally, she said. "I must help them."
He smiled and simply nodded. "They will hear you. It won't take much."
* * *
Back in the study again. "Daddy?" She said and walked over to him. He did not look at her, his eyes still staring out of the window without seeing. She took his hand, though she knew he could not feel it. "It's okay daddy. I don't need to learn how to ride my bike. I'll be able to fly soon." Her dad began to sob as though he could hear her and understood what she was saying. "Goodbye daddy."
He fought to regain his composure and finally choked through his sobs, "Goodbye Ariadne."
* * *
He smiled and simply nodded. "They will hear you. It won't take much."
* * *
Back in the study again. "Daddy?" She said and walked over to him. He did not look at her, his eyes still staring out of the window without seeing. She took his hand, though she knew he could not feel it. "It's okay daddy. I don't need to learn how to ride my bike. I'll be able to fly soon." Her dad began to sob as though he could hear her and understood what she was saying. "Goodbye daddy."
He fought to regain his composure and finally choked through his sobs, "Goodbye Ariadne."
* * *
In the kitchen. "Momma?"
Her mother started to cry. "My Ariadne." She whimpered.
"Its okay momma. You sent me to school that day because you loved me. It wasn't your fault." She leaned and kissed her mother's cheek. Her mother sobbed. "Goodbye momma."
"Goodbye, my darling."
Ariadne looked up at Principle Myers. "I think we're ready now."
He nodded and she took his hand. As Ariadne and he walked into the crisp autumn air, behind them Ariadne could sense the change. She smiled and there was a spring in her step. Their world was beginning to move once again.
* * *
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I guess the primary note I want to make about this short story is that I do not in ANY way mean to sound as though I am accusing grieving parents of anything much less stranding their lost children in limbo. And I would never imagine a parent hating their child for dying. But there are stages of grief, and anger is a very normal one. Often we do not want to remember or think about our hurt, but it yet remains. They don't hate the children, they hate the pain that wells up in reaction to thinking of them. Neither do I intend to sadden anyone or bring them pain. It is just a story. A work of fiction. It is meant to be a reflection on grieving and letting go, and that is all. Please take it that way and do not be hurt or take offense.I've lost children - and parents - too.
And to my dearest friends and readers, I KNOW that this probably isn't theologically accurate or any kind of 'logically' accurate. I'm not trying to say in any way that it is. You guys know me well enough to know where I stand theologically. So please don't take offense in that sense either.
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