The Ultimate Secret

“Can you keep a secret?” the scraggly homeless man said to Ray as they sat at a bus stop. Ray looked behind him, thinking the man was talking to someone else, then turned back and stared. “I said, can you keep a secret?”

“I’m sorry, are you talking to me?” Ray asked.

“Do you see anybody else ‘round here, boy?”

Ray continued to stare, confused by the stranger’s ill-mannered words. “You would trust a perfect stranger with your secret?”

“No, but that’s why I ask first. If a man isn’t as good as his word, then what good is he.”

Ray pondered that statement. He never thought he would be talking philosophy in the early morning sun with a wandering soul, but here he was doing just that. “Good point,” Ray responded. “Sure, I can keep a secret.” It was the homeless man’s turn to give a blank stare. After several seconds, Ray said, “Well?”

“Well, wha’?”

“What’s your secret?”

“I don’ have no secret. Even if I did, I surely wouldn’t tell the likes of you.”

Ray rolled his eyes, slapped his forehead, and turned his back to the man. He looked at his watch, wondering when the bus would come. He then lifted his head, looking left to right. Ray noticed that the street was rather devoid of usual traffic and the rabble of a typical Monday morning. He thought that was odd.

“The bus’ll be here soon enough,” the scruffy man said.

“How did you…”

“You lookin’ at your watch, and waiving your head around like a dandelion caught in a stiff breeze,” the man interrupted. “What else would ya be thinkin’ ‘bout?

Ray chuckled. Although the man had started as a nuisance, he was beginning to grow on Ray. They both sat in silence for a time, taking in the cityscape. Ray hadn’t realized how beautiful the city was until this morning. His life was always rush, rush, rush. He had never taken the time to stop and just take in the scenery. It felt nice to take it all in.

“Are you ready for that secret now?” the homeless man asked, breaking the silence with his toothless grin.

Ray turned back to him. “Sure, I’m ready. What’s your secret?”

“You’re dead, Ray.”

Ray froze. How did this man of the street know his name? And what did he mean Ray was dead? Ray thought for sure he would know if he was dead. He had always been told in church that when he died, he would see a bright, white light; then, he would be greeted by angels and dead family members. If he was dead, where was all of that? Where was God?

“If I’m dead, who are you? My fairy godmother?” Ray jabbed, chuckling to himself.

“No, ya nincompoop! I’m your guardian angel!” the man said.

Ray burst into hysterical laughter. “You! Ha! If you’re my guardian angel, where are your wings? Shouldn’t you be radiantly beautiful? And where’s your halo?”

The homeless man bopped Ray on the head. “Because I, just like this bus stop, are a representation of how you died. A construct, if you will.” Ray rubbed his head and again stared at the man, this time with confusion. “Before any soul can pass on, they must come to terms with how they died. And the name is Ulysses, by the way.”

“I died at a bus stop?” Ray asked. “That doesn’t make sense. I drove a Rolls-Royce! I was vice-president of a Fortune 500 company! Why would I be caught dead at a bus stop?”

“Don’t you remember nothin’, boy? You have to remember somethin’!” Ray shook his head and shrugged. “God’s tears!” Ulysses sighed, then looked up. “Forgive me, Father,” he said, then looked back at Ray. “Your car was in the shop that day. You had to walk three miles just to get to the bus stop so you could get across town to your “job,” Ulysses regaled, using the quotation fingers. Ray gave him another blank stare, and Ulysses just shook head and pinched the bridge of his gnarled nose.

Ray racked his brain to try to remember. If he really had died, shouldn’t he remember something? “So, what is this place? Limbo?”

“I guess you could call it that,” Ulysses answered.

“And my only way out is to remember my death?”

Ulysses shook his head again. “It has to more than just remember it. You have to make peace with it, accept it. Only then can you be free of this and the last little bit you have left in the mortal coil.”

“Well, what the hell does that mean?!” Ray bellowed. “Am I in some kind of coma or something?”

“You are on death’s door, that’s all you need know. But we are getting off track.”

Ray stood, starting to pace with frustration. He had died or was on the brink of death. And not only did he have to remember what happened, but he also had to come to terms with it, if he understood correctly. How the hell am I supposed to do all that? he thought. Suddenly, Ray looked up and stopped. The memory came rushing in like a freight train, almost knocking him off his feet.

He had been so angry that day, the engine in his expensive car had blown, and he had to have it towed to a local repair shop. If that hadn’t been bad enough, the guy behind the counter had told him it would take several days to fix. That meant Ray would either have to call a taxi and pay a lot of money or walk to the closest bus stop. He had chosen the latter.

While sitting at the bus stop, a drunken homeless man had stumbled to the stop. The man had stood on the curb for several minutes. Then he passed out into the street just as the bus came around the corner. For some reason, Ray decided to be the hero that day. He jumped to his feet, picked the man up, and shoved him back on the sidewalk just as the bus slammed into him.

“Holy shit,” Ray whispered, a tear coming to his eye. “That damn bus hit me! And trying to save you, no less!”

Ulysses waggled his finger, shaking his head at Ray. “No, not me. George, the homeless man that I look like and represent. You should be proud, boy! Self-sacrifice is one of the best ways to go.”

“I suppose,” Ray shrugged. “I don’t want to be dead, though.”

“Well, nobody wants to be dead. It’s just a part of life,” Ulysses replied. “And there’s nothing you can do but be ready for what comes next.”

“I guess that’s true.” Ray thought for a bit about his life. He hadn’t left behind any family; he had chosen to marry his career over getting bogged down by a wife and kids. All of his money would go to care for his mom and dad, who lived in the countryside. He felt at peace with that. “Well, I guess I’m ready.” With that, a white bus with the words The Afterlife emblazoned on the side rolled to a stop next to him. The door rolled open, a gentle-looking young man behind the wheel looked down and smiled at him. “What do I do now?” Ray asked.

“Ya, get on!” Ulysses answered with a shout, shooing Ray toward the open door.

Ray hesitantly stepped on to the first step of the bus and turned to face Ulysses. “But where do I go from here?”

“Judgement. But with the self-sacrifice thing, I doubt you have anything to worry about,” Ulysses responded, winking at Ray.

Before Ray could say another word, the driver closed the door in front of him. He turned to the driver who silently pointed at his watch, shifting the bus into gear. Ray turned around to see Ulysses waving at him as the bus rolled away.