Joy

Word Count: 2,400

“JOY”

 By: Charlie

“Where's your wife?”

“She fell into the arms of the Great Grave Master.”

“You mean the grave digger down the street?!”

“Heavens no! My wife is dead.”

Ignorance is a blind cessation, but in Jersey City, the air snapped. Some braved it for the musts, like: cereal, candles, toilet paper and milk.   For widower, Christopher Winifred, the next coming hours of his life were to be part of a dreadful plan. Fate mercifully weaved another form.

“I sensed something was wrong, but I could never come to concede it-Serena so wonderful.  I’d always see you together. What did she die of?”

“The heart.”

“Sorry.”

Wandering lonely as a morsel of bread, Christopher Winifred, we’ll call him Chris, couldn’t help but take a stroll to the neighborhood cathedral. The place of his nuptials.  Its bricks were high with looked like crystal stairs leading up to its heavy metal doors. The statue of Jesus which would hide inside a nook of trees in the Spring and Summer, stood then as a tall grey slate. It’s heart of oozing red seemed so strange to Chris then. All those years looking at it, he never thought that his wife would die from it. Always solid.  What should have brought him joy during this time, did not. No, blinking lights from the houses, nor tinsel lining the winter snowflakes that decorated the street poles every year.  It would have been easier if Serena had an affair, for in this, his eyes could still behold her once more. Living, breathing, speaking, with her airy voice of whispered song. Stolen was Serena. Through the heart that beat only for him. 

The cold pierced through his nostrils freezing his brain but not enough for him to think of her.

‘I have been fairy blessed. I have been very blessed. A twinkling margin of what can be. Ten thousand hummingbirds dancing across a flowering field. Falling upon her bed, soaking within her calming lullaby, never wanting it to end. Sing for me again?! Why God? Why?!!! 

Unnatural happiness gained and relief was presented within her presence.  As I wander lonely, heaven fashioned a grand set of clouds for me today. All white, as blank, and empty as I. Liberty is a royal saint-I need you. I flight into many sorrows, Serena, bending more to cry within this river valley.’

At the front of the stairs of the church, Chris began to sob.

“Where is my joy this Christmas season?” He called to the white pearl of a statue of Mary. And as his bones ached in the stale wind, and the mechanical bells chimed next to the mini little cemetery of the church, Chris decided to do away with the body he lived in for eighty-four years. Within this, he yearned to reunite with his beloved Serena, or so he thought.

Faster and faster, his cane pounded against the cold-bleached pavement on his way. Passing the bus stop as one bus whizzed by almost looking to hit him. Exceeding, the 99 Cents Store, which looked satiated. Its products, waited for people to take them home with them as the warm and friendly smell of pizza sneaked through the air.

“Eight-four years young, and I never eaten pesto,” and so, Chris decided to go into the local restaurant to grab a bite.

Not a word uttered within that historic little pizza shop. The only things spoken were the “what you wants?” and the “how much’s?” and then the “have a wonderful day.” Eating upon the floating table, as the television blared, Chris bent down to eat. Greatly surprised, his wife was correct. Pesto wasn’t rotten.

Sadly after, he walked the straight long way down to his other stop. The pharmacy.

Down the aisles of the pharmacy, he went as trepidation set in. As though, wild sirens of flashing light would blaze before him preventing him from doing this dreadful deed. Chris looked at the little products on the shelves, looking to see the best sleeping pills to fit his need. 

As he touched the bottle, the sad reality set in. In some states they jail some for committing suicide if they don’t succeed. He wasn’t sure if his New Jersey, did so, but he needed to succeed somehow no one should know he failed.

Looking through the protected, and transparent glass gazing upon the large amount of pills his customer purchased, the pharmacist spoke,

“How’s your wife?” Chris jumped, but…

 “She’s home now.”

“Oh. We’ll see her again?  Haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Yes. Yes.” 

Abruptly taking the pills from the clerk, festinating down the stairs to turn the corner. His little apartment across the one-way street, awaited him. Like a smiling friend. Its bricks painted white, from its original red which he always thought funny. But his wife never minded. All those years crossing that way to take their children to school began to stalely flood in. College did well for them, they all got jobs out of state. The super knew them, he would call them once they smelled him after the deed, Chris thought. One car whizzed by him passing the light of red.

“You missed!” he shouted. And as he caught a glimpse, there the driver was sticking out the fly out the window. Shocked, he whispered, “You know it is Christmas, right?”

During Christmas time, there is a sensation in the air, even if you aren’t really looking at your calendar. A presence of thunder. A presence of light. Every time, Chris passed those mechanical bells, he would imagine that something wonderful would happen. He never understood why until later that night.

The bottles of pills laid before him upon an ottoman in the living room. Twinkling lights from the large tree blinked in an empty sadness. He pondered upon how nice it was that Serena got to see the twinkling lights as she laid upon the sofa when she got ill. The bathroom was a few steps away and the kitchen was right across, which he never liked but stayed because the apartment was big enough to house him, his wife, and the children.

Unassuming were these bottles of pills.  Sterile. So small within his feeble and shaking hands.   And as the snow began to fall, Christopher drank the pills one by one. Swallowing slowly and then in rapid pace. They made him queasy. Their taste was nothing like soda-you can drink another glass never feeling to stop. It’s like a stripping of unwanted paint chips, you know.  As pill four, then five made its arrival upon his stomach, he saw a flash of a bright light. 

It was God. His long white gown filled the room, and his splendor was lightening. 

“I am, what I am.”

Chris fell to his face. God’s warmth had made his muscles lose all will of moving. Having read the bible, he knew who this was.

‘Will he help me get up?’ Chris asked himself and to his surprise, it was as the bible. He touched his shoulder, and he could move, but not enough for him to drink the pills.

“What is it you want? Anything I will give you. Because you have loved me all these years.”

Taken aback. Chris didn’t know what to say to God. So majestic was He. The dazzling light which shown all around Him, made Chris think. After pondering a few moments, he hesitantly blurted out,

“Joy! I want my joy back!!” Tears formed within his eyes of shock.

“You mean?” God asked.

“YES! I want my Serena back.”

“I will show you.”

Transported was Chris within the scene of when he and Serena first met at the school upon the hill. The place was like a tomb, but the students, faculty and staff were friendly and warm. Winding hallways moved, in and out and around in the paths of different classrooms. And as the droves of students bulldozed their way through the hallways wide, he bumped into her. Serena. 

“This was the place you first met her.”

“Yes. She was beautiful then and still beautiful now. Even when we grew older, I welcomed the visionary hours of when I will see you once again, My Affection. But within the hour of five, I would die again. Away until morning dawned to have you shine once more. But now, it is eternal death that separates us not as time’s past.”

“But this was not the real scene of your joy.  Isn’t it?”

“You know me quite well.”

Suddenly, God brought Chris to the day of his wedding. The very place, he walked around an hour before. It was the sunny day of, August 23, 1957. The Giants beat the Dodgers in his very hometown, using a Willy May’s bat by the hand of Hank Sauer, no less.  Never thinking that anything this big could happen at all here but things did. The city was bustling with a skating rink where he proposed a few months before.  Love was moving quite fast for the couple. He got a new job and rented their new apartment, and everyone was ready to settle in. But a terrible blast erupted through, and the fumes of smoke was still in the air as he and his wife kissed to seal their fates together.

“This was truly my moment of joy.” Winifred said.

“Why?”

“Because everything was going so right for me. I never took the job in that spice factory and…you’re good.” God smiled.

“Can I take you someplace else?”

“Yes, Lord.” Chris laughed.

Transported was he into a place long forgotten. There was a reason, most people would want to forget this place, for this was a place of sorrow, woe, and poverty.

“Why did you stop at that restaurant then?” God asked Chris.

“You know me well indeed.  They were not the same people. But they had the same smell, the food was reminding me of when Mom and I used to bring pennies we would save up. And she would count them one by one. The man once refused the pennies and gave us the pizza with two ten cents soda! But why bring me to this place?”

“You don’t remember what happened the next day?” God asked.

As the next scene was dyer. And the scene filled with baroness, there was also a place for a miracle. As you know, when there are no utilities, you have no place to store food. And when you don’t have any place to store it, you won’t have it.  And so, Chris and his baby sister starved as the neighbors ate within their warm and full homes.  Getting up to play with his toys, suddenly, the lights turned on.  His mom and he could not believe it.  Gas also made its appearance.  This gave them more time to keep their perishable food which they got minutes later at the local grocery store.

“This was the smallest Christmas miracle which gave me the chance to dream again. I can’t believe that I forgot it.”

“Things are never as they seem. I never wanted to hurt you. Serena was your happiness. Now you can have another. It is not your time yet.” God said to Chris.

“What do all humans agree upon?”  Chris asked not even understanding why he asked such an impertinent question.

“Hunger. They all have felt it and they all want to satisfy it.” God responded.

“Why is there hunger?” God asked Chris.

“Because there aren’t enough trees? Why aren’t there more trees?” Chris asked.

“Greed.” God responded.

And with that Chris’ eyes opened wide with despair, “With all the greed in the world, why couldn’t you give me this one wish?”

“Remember. Always bear in mind the miracles given. For in this, you will always find your joy that no one and no circumstance can take away from you.” God responded. He continued.

The joy in a first winter's snow. The joy within the summer rain fall, when it is warm, and you’re surrounded by water from the fire hydrant or even the showers from the local park. This is joy because, you thought and feared that there will be no rain. Then there was! Life was not as dreadful after all. But then comes death. It comes in such a way where you feel that everything is going to cave upon you. The sheer emptiness in that you know that the person you love would not come back again. It is shocking. It is like someone ripped them from you without any consideration. It is as though that they did it on purpose against you. Like they are laughing at you saying, "Ha, ha.  I took your family member away. What are you going to do about it?  You are only a kid. And your mother or anybody else you love is going to go next, and you won't be able to stop us because you are a kid and I'm older than you. Ha, Ha!”

“Though, within My word, The Bible it says that wishing for the past is not good, but it never said to snap a picture of the moments that made you feel that element of joy. It is healthy only when you keep in mind that the past is the past. And it is not to be glorified because nothing is really what it seems. It sometimes needs to leave you to help you grow. To ease your feeling pain and the unknowing kind. 

When they don't like you, you can always feel it. They throw their hatred in their hellos. They throw their hatred in their pads on the back. But they never throw their hatred when they are saying goodbye. Somehow, it appeases them. Pleasing their pain of being around you, even though you did nothing but exist.  Why should you feel that all the time? And so, the fates change it. You are helped by their absence. They might graduate away. They may even move away. 

Chris, you must survive those trivial things in life that when accumulated, may turn into something tragic. You hold on to that moment of joy, until another one comes, but never dwell upon or within that year, you will move backward. Always make it part of you.”

Suddenly, there was an opening of the atmosphere, liken onto an egg. Complete with splendor, like a spider web or like the children’s toy that made all those spirals. In between, appeared crystal tears. And as you got closer, it spiraled in fluorescent tubes spun in circular-round movements. But if you step into it, there is the point of no return. You can never come back if you go through. But God went through it, with blue wings flashing. For God, the consciousness of man, is indeed still present.

THE END