When I Wore a Younger Mans Clothes

He played her piano every day. The shape of his heart would determine whether it was for a few minutes or a whole afternoon as grief sat beside him on her stool and there were days even now, six months later, when he could not bear the weight.

She was here, he was sure.

She had played every single day, hours and hours of practise. Not to entertain or to impress but for the sheer joy, the feeling of interpreting musical notation from more than a century ago and hearing same the notes that Mozart himself had heard. She felt them, speaking to her across time, sometimes Allegro and sometimes Adagio but always with heart. Some small remnant of her must remain, you cannot devote so much time and soul to one place and not leave some ethereal DNA behind.

The instrument sat in the same place in the corner of the same room, monolithic and alone, staring at him, daring him to ignore it. Strangely, the piano had the appearance of being out of tune and his playing merely confirmed that it was but, to his ear all the notes were out to the same degree, so it played consistently even if it was a little discordant. They had both fallen into disrepair in the last six months. Outer shell a little bruised, some large chips taken from the various surfaces but still there in the little house on the quiet street, steadfastly refusing to quit.

Don could not match her talent and dedication, he recalled her patience whilst he butchered London Bridge is Falling Down for the hundredth time. She persevered in the lessons and persisted with him, and as a result he got better, in every way, just by being in her orbit. He was never going to fill Carnegie, but he could hold a tune and read the music to a point where he gave the appearance of competence. More than this she made him whole, he knew a piece of him had always been missing, she saw the place it should be, and she didn't look away in fact she jumped in.

It gave him no joy to play, not like it had for Catherine, but he felt her when he sat down, felt her warm hands on his clumsy fingers, felt her whispering in his ear that he was terrible but that she loved him anyway. She was here, she had to be, he knew it in his bones.

All the details of the most terrible day were burned into his consciousness and came to him, unbidden, continually. They had fought that morning, something and nothing, like fights often were, but off she stormed, making a mountain out of what was barely a grain of sand. He had a habit of leaving damp clothes in the machine, it seemed so crazy, so tiny in the glorious realm of retrospect where everything was simple and crystal clear. He had pissed her off by being inconsiderate and she had run away. They would make up, of course they would. Not this time. This time she jumped in her little hatchback, reversed out of the driveway and sped away. He assumed she hadn’t seen the truck, at least she hadn’t registered it, and that was it, she was obliterated from time by him and his damp fucking socks.

*******

“Welcome to orientation, my name is Amanda and I will be guiding through your next phase.”

“Where am I”?

The woman who called herself Amanda was standing a few feet away from Catherine, she was dressed in plain clothing that looked a little dated with brown shoes that looked as though they should be marching round a parade ground.

“Next phase of what, where am I, what is happening?”

Catherine heard that tone in her own voice, slightly too shrill, too loud, rattling staccato questions as they popped into her brain.

“Catherine, I am sorry to tell you that you have died, the mortal part of your life is complete.”

Amanda was getting used to these conversations, but it was still confronting to be the first voice people heard after the most traumatic thing that would ever happen. She had been here for a long time, selected for her soothing manner and her empathy. In life she had been a nurse, killed many years ago in a country that no longer existed, and her orientation guide had been a complete bitch so she strived to make the transitions more pleasant for her newbies.

Catherine had the look they all had at this point, but Amanda had to get moving, people were dying at the rate they always did, and the never-ending queue was getting longer by the second.

“I can’t be dead, I was just in my car, am I in hospital?”

“No, you are dead, I am afraid there is no doubt, how do you feel?”

Catherine started to cry. “Where am I, where is Don, who the hell are you?” Her dumbfounded tone gave way to anger, as it Amanda knew it always did.

“Catherine”, she said in as calm a tone as possible. “You have died, that is the plain truth of it, I am here to tell you what will happen next and to advise you on the choice you must make.”

They were in a small room, it wasn’t all white, glowing and celestial, it just looked like a living room in a small house.

“Please, sit down” Amanda gestured to a small two-seater sofa against the far wall. It was slightly tatty and worn with a strange pattern that looked like a million eyes all interwoven into the fabric.

Catherine, sobbing, did as she was told.

A television set she hadn’t noticed came alive with a flickering image that gradually stabilised.

“Is that a VCR?” Catherine’s sobbing was suspended momentarily by incredulity at seeing the old machine.

“Please, just watch” Amanda instructed.

The black and white film had a look of an infomercial from decades ago, the kind of thing that warned against communism, advocated smoking and told you what to do if a nuclear war happened.

The voice on the tape spoke in a clipped English tone.

“We are sorry about your death but welcome to your next phase orientation, this short film will tell you everything you need to know about next steps and the important choice you have to make.”

“This can’t be real.” Catherine had a pleading tone now.

Amanda said nothing as the disembodied voice droned and delivered its message.

******

The house that Don lived in was small. A terrace in a row of identical houses that had common walls and small back gardens with a rear alley that linked them together. Outside in the garden was a small table with a single chair, he had removed the second because he could still see her sitting there, eating breakfast and reading her book. He didn’t need those reminders, so he sat in the lonely chair and was staring blankly into space when a noise from behind broke his reverie.

“I’ve been knocking for like 5 minutes man, why didn’t you let me in?”

Don looked up genuinely startled at the intrusion.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you, how did you get in?”

“The front door is unlocked dude I just pushed it and voila.”

The visitor had a bag in his hands, Don knew what it was.

“Please not more lasagne, the freezer is full I can’t eat any more than I am.”

“Little brother I am merely the messenger, Jan sent it and if I don’t bring it then I’m in the shit, you see that right?”

Don sighed as his brother put the bag containing a large foil tray of lasagne onto the table.

“Jesus, will you stop putting this chair away, every time I have to get it out, just leave it, I’m starting to get the feeling you don’t want me here.”

Don smiled without conviction as his brother struggled to move the chair and sit down.

“I can’t stay long I’m on my way to the office, I just wanted to say hey and make sure you were OK.”

“I’m fine.” He said, with as much conviction as he could muster.

“Well, I’m convinced, no problems here.” There was sarcasm in his tone which had always been trait ever since they were kids.

“Stop calling me little brother.” Don remembered the slight suddenly "I’m like two minutes younger than you.”

“So, you are the younger brother then?” he needled.

Don appreciated the effort, despite how annoying his brother was.

“You got candy and stuff for tonight?” he asked Don.

“What?”

“Halloween man, it's tonight, you know your street is crawling with the little bastards and they will just bug the shit out of you till you hand it over.”

“Oh, right I forgot” said Don.

He dreaded the thought of the constant knocks on the door, the whining children who didn’t respect his need for grief, mercilessly hounding the innocent like buccaneer pirates of old until you handed over the booty.

“I’ll pick some up on my way home tonight and drop it in, should be around six, will you answer the door this time doofus?”

Don looked confused, he hadn’t been listening.

After his brother closed the door behind him Don took his bowl, spoon and his coffee mug back into the little house and put them in the sink. He turned on the hot water tap and rinsed the items before placing them in the drainer.

He sat at the piano and opened the lid. He didn’t much feeling like playing today and he stared at the keys for a long while until his vision blurred and they started to merge in front of him, black became white and nothing was where it was supposed to be.

*****

Catherine sat on the sofa with the weird eye pattern and started up at Amanda.

“I’m really dead.”

It wasn’t a question, Amanda thought, so she didn’t respond.

“How long have I been”, she struggled for an adjective, “I mean did it just happen?”

Amanda sighed inwardly, she sometimes wondered why they bothered with the movie, no-one ever took it all in.

“No, as the film explained time doesn’t work here at least not in the same way you are used to, for the people you left behind you have been gone for six months.”

“So, I died six months ago, where have I been until now?”

“You haven’t been anywhere, you no longer exist.” She was speaking a little more sharply now, she had to get on. For a moment, Amanda thought back to her first few minutes and the shocking, vomit inducing realisation that she was dead, and she softened a little.

“Look I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“You think?” Barked Catherine, anger rising now. “You tell me I’ve been dead six months, then play me this stupid movie telling me I need to choose where to spend the rest of eternity, this is just not happening, am I in a coma in hospital is that what this is?”

Amanda straightened herself and made to leave the room.

“Catherine, I need to move on to other tasks now, do you understand what you are being asked to choose?”

“Yes, you want me to pick a place to haunt for eternity.”

“We don’t use the word haunt, but you do need to pick an object where you will reside.”

Catherine put her head in her hands and started to weep, for herself, for Don and for what would never be. When she looked up Amanda was gone, and she was alone.

******

Don put his key in the door and opened it. His walk had been short, but the fresh air had helped him a little. These first few seconds were always the worst, opening the door and not hearing her, not smelling her. He stepped inside and the empty feeling in his stomach grew a little worse.

He threw his keys in the bowl she had bought from the garage sale and took off his coat placing it next to hers on the hook. He stroked the fabric and pulled it to his face to breathe deeply at her fading scent.

He walked slowly into the piano room and stood for a moment and remembered her sitting there.

“I miss you so much” his voice was almost pitiful.

From the piano she screamed silently.

“I miss you too Don, I’m here, Don, it’s me!”

He sat down alone and began to play.