Crashing Souls
crashing
souls
Books
by Cynthia A. Rodriguez
The
Mystic Waters
Series
Mystic Waters
Chasing the Tide
The Reigning Waves
Other Books
Crashing Souls
Delta Lie
crashing
souls
a novel by
Cynthia A. Rodriguez
A
NTERIOR
B
OOKS
This
is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
C
RASHING
S
OULS
. Copyright © 2015 by Cynthia A. Rodriguez.
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the publisher. Printed in the United States of America.
Print ISBN: 978-0-9904189-6-2
E-book ISBN: 978-0-9904189-7-9
Anterior Books
P.O. Box 832469
Miami, FL 33283
Cover design © Matthew Phillips
thecoverlure.com
First Printing
For
those searching.
And for those who helped me find…me.
FOREWORD
Dear Reader,
I will forever remember these characters as lovers slow dancing in the hottest fire under a sea of stars.
Trust me.
After all, can anyone survive dancing in fire?
Cynthia
I
seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times… In life after life, in age after age, forever.
—Rabindranath Tagore, “Unending Love”
DEXTER
Chapter
1
I
was in love the day I died. I remember gripping her hand in mine as life left my body. I heard her last breath before mine. And my final thought before I ascended was,
Damn, I love this girl.
And then I faded away.
I floated free. I was living within my mind, it seemed. It was euphoric; no boundaries. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t physically feel, and what earthly emotions I had were diminishing.
I was still disoriented. I felt a certain happiness within me but…
I’m supposed to be with her.
My memory, specifically of her, was beginning to dim. I held onto the image of her face with ferocity.
“Why? Why now?” I’d expected an echo. After all, my mind was this vast emptiness. Space upon space, my conscience did cartwheels.
I didn’t receive a response. It was quiet and the quiet was maddening. I couldn’t be alone. This couldn’t be it for me. Her face filled my head. Her laugh tinkled on, and I could remember the distinct scent of her skin. All of these things left me with the need to beg.
“Send me back. I wasn’t done!”
“You continue to hold onto her. Your memories should be faded by now. And yet…” a voice said through the darkness. “I’ve never seen this before. I’ve not responded to a human in a very long time.”
Send us back. Please send us back.
As if he heard my thoughts, he went on. “Why should I not bring you to your maker? After all, the Angel
of
Death favors no human. And you aren’t the first to come here, begging for mortality once more. Though I rarely acknowledge, I can still hear their pleas. Why do you beg? Your soul is tired. Let it rest.”
“Tired? You—you’re the Grim Reaper?” I asked.
“I have many names. Now, tell me. What makes you so special?”
I tried to think of something that would help my cause.
I hadn’t lived a full life yet? No, children died tragically all the time.
I had been in love? No. I was sure there were older couples who still loved one another and died.
But I wouldn’t let her go. Maybe they had, but I wouldn’t.
“You’ve said that my memories should be gone and they aren’t. I will never let her go. I—I’m damaged goods. I’ll spend a lifetime, a millennium, still pining for her.”
It was silent. Still, I didn’t let my thoughts of her drift from me. It wasn’t easy. But I had to do it. It was the only way I’d be able to get back to her.
I was losing the small details. Her scent was gone and her face, it was becoming a blur of features. But the
idea
, the essence of her, remained.
“I’ve spent too long in the darkness of grief.” I knew he was flirting with the idea. I only wished he would make his decision, in my favor, quickly. I was barely holding on to her as it was.
It felt like an eternity. I was blind. Deaf, tasteless, nothing to touch. Everything was her. And yet, I worried beneath that façade of strength that I
would
forget her. Would he help me? Would I make it back to her? I was sure many asked. But I had to show him I was different.
“What is it you want from me?” I was putting myself out there, ready to bargain with him. Immediately, I
thought
of the words many would say in this situation. I was making a deal with the devil. I retracted the thought. He wasn’t the devil. He was an angel. Of death. How sad a job it must be.
“I only want to be near the light, noble one. Show me light,” he said, confirming what I thought.
“How?” His words were riddles, and I didn’t have the patience for them.
“Don’t you know? Love is light.” He said this to me like it was common sense. I brought us back to the reason for our conversation.
“Does this mean I get to go back to her?”
“You’ll go back, but not as you were. She will not be as she was. You will not know her. Not until you see her. She will not know you, even if she sees you. Find her and show me the light. Earn this miracle.”
Utter silence spread between my consciousness and his being. I waited for more.
“Know this: few of your memories will be yours. And her soul will not remember yours at all. It isn’t about what was…it’s about what
is
.”
I didn’t know what was happening until I felt the electricity of life course through me. As I bottomed out, plummeting back to Earth, I heard his last words.
“I’ll be watching. Find the light. Until we meet again….”
•••
I felt a physical impact on my body, like I’d been dropped from the sky and hit the pavement. There were sirens and voices all around. Someone was pushing at my chest, and the bright blue and red lights glowed through my lids. Drops of water splattered on my face and I understood, even through the chaos, that it was raining.
“He’s got a pulse. Let’s move,” someone yelled from beside me. I was lifted and, as people crowded around me, I heard a woman screaming.
“
Dex! Dexter!”
I wondered where Dexter was. And then I slept.
•••
One moment I was sleeping, the next I was up, lungs gasping for air, eyes roving around the room in a panic.
Had I been dreaming? Did I…did I meet the Grim Reaper?
I looked down at my hands.
They weren’t mine.
Gone was the childhood scar I’d gotten from… wait, where had I gotten that scar? Before I could search through my fragmented memories, someone opened my door.
A petite woman walked in, grocery bags in her hands, light brown hair tousled. When she looked at me, her bags hit the floor and her green eyes filled as she rushed toward me.
“Oh, Dexter. Your mom would kill me. I’m doing a shitty job. I know it. But I’m trying. I really am.” Even though her hands were now empty, she didn’t hug me.
I was at a loss for words. I didn’t want to tell this woman that I had no idea who she was. But, as her frantic eyes assessed mine, she knew.
“Dex? You—you do know who I am, right?” Her voice wavered under the pressure of the tears that had yet to fall.
“I….” I cleared my throat, not used to the sound of this voice, “I just can’t remember anything. My hands…they aren’t mine. My name isn’t Dexter. It’s….” What was my name? In my desperation to hold onto her, had I sacrificed my own memories? The ones that held my identity?
Her tears began to flow. She nodded before murmuring something about getting a doctor and fled the room.
Moments
later, a doctor rushed in, steering clear of the bags on the floor. The woman trailed behind, stopping inside the door.
“Dexter, my name is Dr. Davison. You’ve been in an accident. You’ve been in a coma for about a week now. Your aunt said you’re having some memory trouble. Do you,” he paused, looking over his shoulder at her and then back at me, continuing in a hushed tone, “do you remember her? Do you remember anything?”
I shook my head, noticing that locks of hair swung with the movement. It felt foreign. I knew I never let my hair grow that long before.
Before what?
I was overwhelmed. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know her, I don’t know me, and I don’t know you.” I looked over at her. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Dr. Davison held up his arms. Maybe he realized I was under severe stress in that moment.
“No, no. It’s fine. I’m only looking for a starting point. If you don’t mind my asking, what’s the last thing you remember?”
I was talking to the Angel of Death.
I couldn’t tell him that. Instead, I told him the closest thing to the truth that I could.
“Nothing. I remember nothing about Dexter’s life.” It wasn’t technically a lie. I knew how to talk, how to make facial expressions appropriate to my emotions. I was sure I knew things people my age did, whatever my age was. I could remember how to turn on the television in the corner of the room and how to read the name badge on the doctor’s white lab coat. I knew that, in order to stop a car, I had to press my foot on the brake. Anything other than general facts was blank.
“You don’t remember your parents? Doctor, he doesn’t remember his parents. I—I….” My aunt threw her hands up in defeat. “They’re
dead
. I can’t give him those memories back.”
I
shifted to straighten my spine and understood her tears. A legacy was gone.
“Now, he may regain his memory. All is not lost. But you have to be patient. These things take time. Let’s be happy he came out of the accident alive and in one piece,” Dr. Davison reasoned. When he said the word
accident
again, I realized that I still didn’t know how this body had gotten here.
“What happened?”
The woman’s shoulders sagged on an exhale. “We had a…disagreement. You ran out into the road and, before the car could stop, you were hit. I thought for sure you were gone, but they managed to bring you back. Scariest moment of my life,” she said, placing her hands on her chest.
“Is the driver going to be okay?”
“Uh, no. In his attempt to avoid you, the driver and passenger—they didn’t make it.” In that one statement, I knew it affected him when lives were lost. My eyes took in the woman’s reaction, and her lips trembled as she stared at the ground.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was typical for someone to say that they were in a better place, but they truly were. Or I was quite possibly losing my mind. Even if my dream had been real, I hadn’t made it to the pearly gates.
“Yes, well, any loss of life is a tragedy. But life has to go on. And yours certainly will, young man. Traumatic brain injury, your knee is shattered, and your rib nearly pierced your lung. But you’ll be as good as new in a few months. We’ll get surgery lined up for you tomorrow morning for your knee, and that should go smoothly. The orthopedic surgeon will stop by later today and discuss the procedure with you. Let me know if either of you have any questions. Uh, Ms. Andrews? A word, please.”
Ms. Andrews didn’t return until she thought I was asleep. I watched through cracked lids as she picked
up
the contents of the bags she’d dropped. I heard her near-silent sobs as she sat beside me, her hand clutching mine. It was the first time she touched me. I wondered why it’d taken so long for her to seek comfort in me, like she felt the only way it were possible was if Dexter was asleep. It made me sad. So, I let myself fall asleep, giving her the comfort she needed in the way she accepted it.
Chapter
2
Y
our body will heal. But that isn’t the real objective here, is it?
The words rushed past me as I neared consciousness. Why was that voice so familiar? Was…the Angel of Death
helping
me? Giving me advice? Did that mean he was real or was it a side effect of having a car nearly take my life?
“Mr. Andrews?” I opened my eyes as a nurse shook me with little force. I reacted more to her shaking me than to the name she called me. “Hi, there. It’s time to get you prepped for your procedure.”
I must’ve grimaced because her eyes warmed and she patted my shoulder. “It’s going to be fine. Your aunt will be back later and you can have visitors afterwards, should everything go as planned.”
Should everything go as planned? Comforting. The panic in me subsided, nevertheless. I’d already died. I was almost ready to go again.