Soul Mates

Boom, boom, boom! Mort had no idea where his heart was.

The last thing that clearly came to mind when Mort tried to conjure up some idea of where he was or what he was doing was sitting in his recliner, drinking his iced tea, and watching one of those blasted women TV movies with Martha.

“Mort?” She had called his name from her cozy crochet spot on the couch. He had turned smiling at the happiness he heard when she spoke his name.

Then nothing. The world was a foggy cloud of jumbled half-images and sounds that made no sense. He was younger than he could ever remember being. He was older than he ever did become. He was everywhere. He was nowhere. He stood on the highest peaks looking down upon himself in the lowest of valleys. The heat of the sun-warmed his back as he swung an ax. He was the sun sucking the coolness from everything it touched. Ever he searched to quench the fire he had become yet everything he searched burned before him.

Then nothing. The fog cleared, he was Mort. Boom, boom, boom. It was a slow ticking that drew him ever toward it. His bones held no memory of aches that once defined their very existence. The mind that had been dulled by too many beers and the lethargy of menial work that needed no thought was sharp and strong if a bit confused. Eyes that had squinted at the world through huge spectacles could see everything freely for miles and miles. The world was the brightest he had ever seen it. It seemed to him that no-mar of man, nor pollution of any kind, had touched or hindered the beauty of the world he saw now. It was as if a great rain had come and washed the world clean leaving behind its natural untouched state. Surely his wonderfully healed eyes were looking upon Eden in the first days before the fall.

Yet how could that be for he was a man of the twentieth century? The instant the thought formed a dullness collapsed upon the world around him. A dingy lived-in quality filled everything. The colors faded back to echoes of what they had once been. The sounds of the world faded in on themselves as if they were falling away from the listener before intensifying a hundredfold so it felt like a verbal assault upon his being.

Mort used his new eyes to look around carefully as things began to congeal into something entirely new. Or perhaps old for it felt as if he knew that which was forming even could not recall from when it came. The world was becoming, right before his eyes.

In a flash, in a blink, in the instant that encompasses everything happening between now and then. Boom, boom, boom. Mort found himself standing in his living room surrounded by his friends and family. Each of them stood around in their Sunday best milling about his home somberly, having quiet conversations with little chuckles, stealing sideways glances into the living room, and eating small snacks from their good silver trays on the table.

He followed their glances into the living room. There, on their couch, sat Martha in a fine black dress with no shoes on. She had always hated shoes, even had it put in her will that she should be buried without them. Mort nearly chuckled to himself, it was just like Martha to be barefoot at a fancy party until he saw her tears. Boom, boom. He fell beside her on the couch reaching for her hand as he did. He tried but could not recall who had died, for surely this was awake. Suddenly Martha inhaled sharply. “Oh, Mort...” She had pulled her hands away to cover her face. Boom, boom, boom.

An uncomfortably unidentifiable sense of panic washed over Mort as he reached out to comfort her once more. It was as if Martha were ignoring him, or worse. Boom, boom. Suddenly, Sara Beth, Martha’s eldest sister, came to sit beside her. Mort stood back watching as Sara Beth comforted his wife. “Hush, Martha, hush now.”

He felt cold, left out, like the wrong man, in the wrong room, doing and saying the wrong thing, at the worst possible moment and any second now they were all going to turn seeing him exposed as he was. Why was he exposed? Where was he? Who was he? Boom, boom, boom.

He blinked. The people were gone. He was everywhere. He was nowhere. He was both old and young again. His world felt upside down and right side up all at once. The world shook, the cosmos blinked into a back hole, the sun was red, the sun was black. He was everything. He was nothing. Just as suddenly as his journey started it was ending. He was in the kitchen with Martha.

Black smoke obscured his vision but he could feel her panic emanating out from her in huge waves. “No, no, no! Oh God, I wish...” She paused to frantically wave a kitchen towel at the smoke detector while using her free hand to wrench open the triple bank of windows that faced out onto the neighborhood. Boom, boom, boom! It was louder than ever, it was full of panic and fear. Mort felt compelled to search for it. The oven door was open the black smoke was billowing out of it in stacks as little orange flames leaped about inside.

The smoke detector won the battle with the dishtowel erupting into a wailing screech that filled every barren soundless inch of the house with its incessant, dramatic, well-deserved demand for attention. “Oh shut up!” Martha screeched herself as she slapped at the growing flames with her blue dish towel to no avail.

Mort reached out to comfort her. “Martha!” He cried. “Martha just run!” She turned her smoke-filled eyes on him with a start, a deep rumbling cough racking her body as she did. Her face went pale as her knees waivered. The ground flew up at her as Mort tried to stop her fall. Boom, boom, boom.

His hands moved as if the space and time they were occupying was filled with a thick viscous fluid that forced them to move at a fraction of their usual speed. “Martha!” He screamed desperate for her to hear him and get up. Her eyes fluttered open she looked up at him from the kitchen floor. His heart broke at the raw, unfiltered terror he saw there. “Mort?” She gasped pulling instinctively away from him.

A fierce banging suddenly filled the place as she struggled to regain her footing. “Ms. Martha? Ms. Martha are you in there?” A young masculine voice called out from the front door. “Ms. Martha where are you?” The panicked voice called out again but Martha was in a fit of coughing that stopped her from calling out.

Mort turned to the swinging kitchen door. “Here!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. “She’s here!” He stepped toward the door to find the young man beyond. Suddenly the kitchen was gone, most of the smoke was gone, even Martha was gone. Mort was staring at a teenage boy; wide and well built with close-cropped hair Mort was sure he played a sport of some kind. “Ms. Martha?” The boy yelled as he went toward the bedrooms in search of his friendly neighbor lady.

“No!” Mort yelled feeling the air around him suddenly grow painfully chili. Boom, boom, boom. The pounding was faint, sluggish, fading. The young man jerked around as if someone unexpected had called his name from behind. “Huh?” He stared at the kitchen door briefly before changing directions and charging that way instead.

Mort was nowhere. Mort was everywhere. He was larger than he had ever been in life. He was smaller than an atom. The clouds passed lazily below him as he looked up at the clouds zooming away from him. Mort was falling. Mort was rising. Time drew him along through its currents like a bobber on a fishing line. He was nowhere. He was everywhere. He was in a silent hospital room. Boom, boom, boom.

Martha sat in a chair her body slumped over an empty hospital bed soundless sobs shaking her tiny body. It seemed to Mort that she appeared frailer than before. The bed was a mess, the sheets were tossed aside, used medical supplies were scattered about the floor.

Mort knelt before his wife reaching for her hands as he did so. “Martha dearest,” he cooed comfortingly. Her eyes rose from the bed to scan the room. “Mort?” She whispered fiercely. Boom, boom, boom. It was palpable. It filled the air all around them. Cocooning them in its warmth. This was where he belonged. His hand rested on her wet cheek as she looked at the wall behind him. He smiled at her wrinkled face. When had she gotten wrinkles? He could not remember but what did it matter people changed all the time. She sniffled lying her head back on the empty bed. “Martha?” He whispered desperately to comfort her. The door gave a muffled click, a middle-aged man with thick black glasses and thinning hair pushed himself into the room.

“Mom?” He whispered in a hoarse cried out voice. Martha turned to look up at her portly son. “Oh Steven,” she rose throwing herself into his strong young, comforting arms. So much like his father. “Sara Beth’s gone, Steven, she’s gone.” Steven held her as she cried. “I know mom, I know.” Mort stared at the salt and pepper hair of his youngest son. He was so young how could Stevens’ hair be so like his? Boom, boom, boom.

Mort was nowhere. Mort was nowhere. Mort was nowhere. He was... Pale yellow enveloped him, it was seeping into his pores, covering his eyes, it was filling his lungs with each breath he... Breath? His lungs were still. He was nothing, He was everything. His heart was not beating. Beating? Where was it? Where was his heart?

Pale yellow began to fall away. He was nothing. He was everything. He was nowhere. He was everywhere. Boom, boom, boom. It was calling. It was here. Boom, boom. Where was his heart? Boom. He was with Martha. Martha had changed. She was sitting in an old wooden rocking chair. The small room she occupied was painted a pale yellow. There was a twin bed near a single-window with flowery blue curtains. She had always loved blue. He smiled as a pleasant feeling of belonging washed over him. Boom, boom, boom. A plain wooden door with a cornucopia of photographs plastered all over it. It sat partially opened a crack with an identical, closed, door in the wall beside it so that the two doors formed one corner of the room.

Mort saw all of this in a rush that mattered very little to him. Martha was here and she was different. She was beyond wrinkled, she had pruned. She was stooped and frail even in a seated position. She was as beautiful as ever. Boom, boom, boom. It was nearly overwhelming, the strength in each boom, each beat of his heart, as he finally drew near to it. All the confusion began to melt away. His memories swamped him as he approached her there. Boom, boom, boom. He could feel the beat of his heart within his chest. It had returned. He was whole again.

Her head rested easily upon her chest as little snorts of breath sounded off every few seconds. Mort reached for the top of her head. He wanted to touch her, to feel her, to know that they were together here in this place, in this time. He was exposed and that was okay as long as she, the bearer of his heart, was the one who saw him as he truly was.

“Hello,” she whispered without raising her head. Mort felt himself jump in surprise.

“My dearest,” Mort knelt before her. Their eyes met and she saw what no one else could ever see. Boom, boom, boom. She took a sharp breath. Panic filled her face. He cradled her chin lovingly in his hands. She took a dull breath. Her panic fell away as she lost herself in his eyes. Boom, boom, boom.

They were nothing. They were everything. They were nowhere. They were everywhere. Boom, boom, boom. It enveloped them. It expelled them. They were young lovers. Boom, boom, boom. They were ancient lovers. Boom, boom, boom. She stood upon the mountain top looking down at him in the valleys. Boom, boom, boom. He stood upon the wind. She stood upon the sun. Boom, boom, boom. They were everywhere. They were nowhere.

The pair of men in white robes stood patiently waiting. The boom, boom, boom filled everything. “Have you waited long?” The first asked the second.

The second gave the lethargic shrug of the eternal. “You know soul mates share a heart it always takes them longer to cross over.” They chuckled together listening to the couples' shared heart beating in the distance. Boom, boom, boom.