The Last Time

I was not expecting anyone to knock on my door that night. Especially at 11:30 pm. I also was most certainly not expecting a body to fall on me when I answered.

The person was drenched from the rain that had persisted through the past hour or so. I screamed as the dead weight knocked me to the ground. The body had me pinned to the floor. I pushed and flailed until I could wiggle my way out from beneath it. I scrambled to my feet and looked down at the person, they laid still and unmoving. Panting from my efforts, I thought about what to do next. This wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone had prepared me for. A large gust of cold air made me close the front door. Cautiously, I stepped over the body and grabbed my phone from my purse. I quickly dialed 911.

“911 emergency operator. What’s your emergency?”

“Hi, hello, um there’s a body in my house.” I mentally smacked myself. Way to sound like a serial killer. “I mean, there was a knock on my door and when I opened it this… body just fell in on me.”

“Is it a dead body?”

“I… I am not sure exactly. How… how would one go about determining that?” In response to my question, the operator gave me directions on how to check for signs of life. I knelt down beside the person and put my hand in front of their open mouth. “I think I feel their breath on my hand.”

“That’s good. Is their heart beating?”

I took my fingers and placed them firmly on the jugular vein.

“Yes,” I said. “But they’re unresponsive. I mean, they’re not moving or anything.”

“Male or female?”

“Male. Looks to be about 30 years old.”

“Alright, and what’s your address, ma’am?”

After giving my information, there was nothing I could do except wait for the ambulance. I felt comfortable enough to end the call with the operator. So, I just sat there, next to an unresponsive stranger. I took the time to look them over. Their clothes looked rather expensive (not that I knew anything about fashion). They had a large watch on their wrist too. It was off by an hour oddly enough.

“Psst, hey,” I whispered. I tried again a little louder. “Hello? Hey, what’s going on with you, pal?”

I nearly pissed myself when they started to mumble.

“The ambulance is on its way,” I said and bit at my thumb nail. “Are you dying?”

“Baby…” The person groaned.

“Uh, no. Nope. Not. Not that. I am not your ‘baby’.” I laughed nervously and moved a little farther away.

“Babe…” They spoke again and grabbed my arm. I screamed, smacked at their hand, and hurried out of reach. “No… Don’t go…”

“Ew, ew, ew, ew,” I repeated to myself as I tried to rub off the feeling of the cold, wet hand from my arm. A series of chills ran down my spine. This person might not have been dead, but they sure felt like they were. I silently urged the ambulance to arrive faster. I stood away from the stranger for another couple of minutes, watching them start to move around. Every once in a while they would mutter about their “baby” or that they wanted me close to them. Sirens finally started to sound near my house, so I opened the front door. With the cold rain, I decided the least I could do is put a blanket on the poor guy, so that’s what I did. It was just a random blanket hanging from the back of my sofa. The ambulance pulled up fast and in the blink of an eye, paramedics were rushing in. I was immediately bombarded with dozens of questions.

Who was this guy, did I know him, what kind of condition was he in, etc. The stranger was eventually strapped to a gurney and wheeled out of my front room.

“Wait!” I quickly grabbed the umbrella I had been using earlier and followed the paramedics out. I held the umbrella over the stranger and the paramedic pushing the gurney. I stayed out to watch them lift the man into the back of the ambulance. And just like that, it was over. A few police officers arrived to ask questions and have me fill out an official statement, but that was all. I told them to call me when they get word of the stranger’s condition, but they never did.

I waited one day, then two days, and then three days. On the third day, I called the police department.

“Hi, yes. I filled out a statement a couple of days ago regarding an injured person at my house and I asked the officer to call me when they get word of the person's condition, but I haven’t gotten a call yet. Is there any way you could help me?”

It turns out, they could help. They transferred me to the line of the officer who responded that night.

“I’m calling about the injured man that fell into my house a couple days ago.”

“Ah, yes.” The officer recalled the event. “We identified the man as Sonny Tate, a local. He went into the ER with what was reported to be advanced stages of CJD and mild hypothermia.”

“What’s CJD?” I asked.

“I don’t know much, but from what I’ve been told, it's a neurological illness that eats away at the brain.”

“Oh my god, how’s he doing ?”

“Ma’am, he’s dead.”

I froze.

“What?”

“He fell into a coma that night. He passed this morning.”

I hung up and stared at the floor. The man was dead? How? I had just seen him alive and breathing and speaking three days ago. How could someone die in three days? I thought back to when he was on my floor. When he reached out to me, begged me to be close to him. Did he know he was dying? Or did he think I was someone else? His “baby” perhaps?

I thought about how his grip felt like death. I thought about how I screamed and ran away from him. I ran away from a dying man. A man who somehow ended up spending his last minutes alive with me. In my house. And all I did was put a blanket on him.

I didn’t know anything about him: his name, age, where he comes from, or anything. Yet I was the last person he spoke to. In his final moments, he was with me. A stranger.

I found myself crying. I cried over a person I never knew, and would never get to know. I cried over the memory of leaving him alone on the floor. I cried because I would never get to know why he knocked on my door that night. I would never get to know why I was chosen to be present during his gradual death. I cried because it felt like a mistake, like I wasn’t supposed to have been there. But most of all, I cried because the universe was telling me I was too late.