She Will Lay My Body On The Stone

Death rolled in, said you got ten minutes.

Curt bastard. Paid no pleasantries.

“Take a lasting look at yourself ­– it’s the lasting one you’ll get.” 

Then left. Onto the next. 

Hell knew what he meant by that! I was out! Tried to stand up and run – jumped right out of my skin and bones. Just left them there cold. I knew it happened straight away, felt it.

At least you get that. You feel yourself go. 

I never told them what to do with my body.

Took a while to look back at where I came from. Took the wall instead. I studied the vinyl, pink pinstripes and vines of drooping flowers. Ugly, though I suppose I liked the detail, the shading and shadow on the petals. Someone had done their best, though they must've known the end would be a mess. Damned from the go with this palette.

There was a painting hanging crooked on the wall. Some sort of ball field lit up on a farm with little white blots for ballplayers. There were runners at the corners. Four or five smears sat in the stands cheering them on. I couldn't place the picture. I shook where my head should've been, trying to jog it loose. Nothing.

Took the wall longer than I'm proud to admit. Eventually, you gotta turn around. Face what you’ve known’s coming. I spun around to see more flowers, a bouquet of purple roses placed at the foot of a gurney. And there, atop the gurney, that's where I came from.

It didn’t feel as funny as I had expected, seeing what I'd left behind. Only forgot how old I was. Shatter mirrors, you must stop aging behind the eyes eventually. The day before I lost my hair, that was me. Never was much to look at, even with a mop. But this me there…spots, flab, creases on my face like a couch cushion! Mouth hanging dry and open wide, a tube slithering out over my bottom lip – should’ve kept up better with my teeth. Couldn’t see the rest, covered by blankets, mounded from a decent gut, but I expect it hid more of what was up top.

Then that got me to think – truly think – for the first time here. Tried to recollect what brought me to this tacky room, to be looking down on myself. But I was left with the present. Knew who I was, but not what I’d been.

Oh, that’s when things got hectic. Would’ve had heavy breath if I'd had any left. 

Wait a minute now. That was him? This is me? That was it? All that life and left with now? Where did it all go? What am I forgetting that deserved me this fate? I still have so many years to know. 

I never told them what to do with my body!

I gathered what I had for thoughts, plotting. There’s no easy slippin' back into skin, I knew that. But there was a door to my former side. I came to be by it, however you may like. Tried to fling it open, bolt back to whatever possible. But I couldn’t dare get a grip on the handle. Just slipped right through. There should’ve been a scream, but it was stolen, just as trapped. 

I looked up, as you tend to do, in contempt or for salvation. Held a share of both now. Fell to whatever would’ve been my knees, praying for mercy. For an extension of a hand, another ante at the table. For more than this meaningless plummet, a ten-measly-minute segue. Before the whatever come next I didn’t want any part of.

Death, return, I am begging you. Let’s discuss this. Bend the rules, if only for me alone. Don’t leave me here. But don’t let the clock tick out either. I looked back at poor me. Who knows what would become of that miserable heap of marrow.

...Then the doorknob twisted and she entered the room, and something returned with her.

Those eyes. Cerulean? The color I chose to sound like I knew something. Fair skin and skinny, long brown hair she swore blonde. Maybe cut it all off once before. Did nothing against her looks. Always delicately dressed with the slightest hunch in her back. Almost unavoidable these days.

I watched her walk bedside. More trickled in. Never late, never early; she found her way around to being on time. Always knew the right cupboard, even for the casserole dish. And she could dance. How! She moved, it’s like the sun was in my eyes! All I could do was my best to keep up.

The memories filled me to the brim. She had brought back the past, and she was there, too, for everything that had really come to matter. Only lost her name for two more seconds. That smacked me. I would’ve smiled.

Clock’s ticking.

I wanted to say something. Anything. She reached under the blanket, fishing for my cushionhand to hold to her chest. It was a firm grasp, strong as ever. Boy, she aged nothing like me. Remembered seeing that coming. And what plays in her smile? A soft, accepting shine. An old ballplayer to his skipper. “We had a good run, huh?”

The rest spilled over. I didn’t like it as much. Didn’t see me in much of a light. A whole lot of concern about ending up right here. My body keeping time, but cowering inside. Then the body went, too, and it was all shambles. The whole way, leaning on her for comfort. Her body holding steady, her mind working double shifts to keep mine in order. There’s nothing so exhausting to another's soul than your worry.

That’s when the dogs came home. The countless moments she gave for us. I spent my life with her; she spent her life on me. Her radiance, gone to waste. 

Perhaps she'd swear it the other way. Perhaps she'd be the first to trade places. But if the impossible came to bring me back, it’d be all wrong. Doesn't matter if the hand was offered. She can finally breathe for herself, for sakes.

Tick-tock tick-tock. Would’ve thanked her, on my knees again. Told her how lucky I was, in life, love, death, and dancing. How glad I was that I went before. How glad I was to have her there at the end.

If Death was the one that brought ten minutes, his sister must have her own obligations. And could I ask and she hear, it’d be for enough time for the one I leave behind. Let her live free. Let her shine the same, and grant her that soft smile when she considers the past. Keep trouble away 'til her ten minutes arrive, and grant hers the peace she provided mine.

Got a feeling the clock’s about to tick out. Got a feeling I know what's next. The rest, it will all come back, too quick to recognize. But the rest matters less now, for she’s my lasting look. Another year, second, or ten minutes, it's nothing but time. This is what I choose, now and ever. And for the life of me, could it get any better?

I never told them what to do with my body. But there's no need to worry now. She’ll know. 

She will lay my body on the stone.

***Inspired by the song of the same title from the incomparable Jack Garratt. Lyrics from the song used in the story are italicized***