Someone who understands

TW: loss of a loved one

Just like its residents, the corporate glass building had a talent for grabbing attention and fulfilling needs: it was now reflecting the scarlet sky, spreading the beauty of a second, misplaced sunset in the buzzing city. Still, in the heart of November, the red and orange palette offered merely an elusive hint of warmth.

Mimicking the couple of executives standing near the bus stop, he had covered himself head-to-toe, leaving only his eyes exposed to the cold. He was shivering underneath, but the avenue wind gently pushed his eyelids open, cooling down his tears and refreshing his vision. “What an interesting sensation”, he figured, “that even your eyes can enjoy the softness of wind’s touch every now and then.” What divine entity could have come up with this? For the Creator himself, it must have been but a happy accident.

The sun had sunk in the horizon when the bus arrived, opening its doors right where he was standing. He stole a quick look at the faces inside. Had they heard of yesterday’s accident? Of course they had. So, why were they here, when an identical bus had burst into flames only a few hours ago? Was “fatal explosion” not terrifying enough as a headline?

Most importantly: did they know that he was the one to blame? That he had not one, but dozens of ways to prevent it, yet he opted to remain neutral.

The sky was turning a darker shade of purple. But the sun never set for him. His days had no end. He took a step in the vehicle, and immediately found himself at the other side of the planet.

The same sun was rising.

***

He reminisced about his past success, when others treated him as if he were the sun. A warm, pleasant protector. A bright, promising leader. He was everywhere he needed to be, and the fortunate few who came across him were elated to finally put a face to the reputation.

Power he had plenty. But with great achievements, come great expectations. In hindsight, failing to notice a snake was a rookie mistake. Only noticing it after it had attacked his guests was criminal. News of the scandal travelled quickly, depressing his supporters and sending his competition into ecstasy. He didn’t have it in him to forgive himself. It didn’t matter that a few bold ones gave him the benefit of the doubt; he could still see the snake crawling up on the woman’s skin each time he closed his eyes.

The image would still haunt him to this day, were it not for the pile of failures he had accumulated over the years. At first, his words became insignificant. Perhaps, feeling unheard was a greater strike to his self-esteem than the incident; accidents happen, and people eventually move on. But the self-doubt that lingers is trickier.

When his words were not utterly ignored, they were paraphrased, which only fueled his sense of inadequacy. Order after order, the others would give their own twist to his plans. Smothering a wildfire burn instead of letting it burn? Let it burn, they did. And it worked. And the forests healed as they were supposed to. And it hurt how their way of doing things always, always worked out in the end, even when it should not.

Fewer people reached out to him for guidance. Loneliness he was good with, but abandonment? The less people sought him, the less he sought them.

***

Now, he was living at the edge of the world. He pushed himself out of the system, living like a spectator of a simulation. He had all the time available to take a closer look at different realities, dropping his obligations and giving up on himself. It was just him and his world, with myriads of things to entertain him, shock him and take his mind off of his fears.

He always went were the sun shone. The illusion of a day that never ended reminded him of the beginning of time, where there was no distinction between light and darkness. He found the endlessness to be comforting. You could always start again, there were not any specific moments for you to stop and evaluate. You simply acted. You kept things under control, or you didn’t, and at the end of the day there was no “end of the day”, so there were not bad days to begin with.

He didn’t have a destination, but he did have places he avoided. He never went near the oceans. The sea divided, it killed and it gave people reasons to kill and conquer faraway lands. Always stayed away from war zones. They should have listened the first time. He had a strong dislike for hospitals and airports, but train stations and theme parks he found magical.

Sometimes, he would stay at the same spot for hours, disguised as a homeless man or a drug addict or a beggar, and see what reactions he could elicit out of people. More than once they had tried to kill him. But most people were either kind or indifferent. That made him lose interest quickly, unless he was testing a particular location: a rundown university, a cemetery or a church.

What remained unchanged, however, was his love for Sunday schools.

***

Soft. Hands smelling like violet soap. Best hugger in the world.

That’s how Mary would remember her mum from now on. Mary, Motherless Mary, Swollen-Eyes Mary, Blasphemous Mary. He heard the whispers of the kids gathering up at the church, and decided to focus on this scene for a while. It had been so long since he had come to contact with grief.

Mary, demonstrating exceptional assertiveness for her age, wouldn’t settle for Sunday school answers when it came to the loss of her mother. Despite growing in a strict Christian household, she knew better than to blame herself for her sins and accept this as punishment.

Now, the pastor was trying his luck with a different approach. “God chooses the kindest people to be His angels. Now, your mum is with Him, watching after you. Be good, be kind, and you’ll make her proud.”

Wrong, they had got it all wrong.

“He needs angels? He needed MY mum to be his angel? He is God. What does he need company for? Even if he isn’t as almighty as they say, there must be another way. Why does he allow all this sadness? Why is he hiding? Why is God so… so insecure?”

…Finally. Someone who understands.

Her questions resonated with Him. One of the billions of His creations, made in His image, according to His likeness, had spoken out His truth.

He left the church, vowing to return soon. With answers for all of Mary’s questions.