Fallen (26 page)

“What’s that?”

“I died just after I was born.”

I expected Gershom to turn and gawk at me
…
lift his eyebrows
…
show some sign of surprise.
But he
didn’t. Instead, he remained stoic, nodding slowly.

“My
Aunt Teresa
told me. It was in the same accident that took my parent’s lives. I…I was the only one
able
to be revived.”

My throat closed
,
chocking off any other words
.
Though,
I had no intention of going on
anyways
.

I was sure Gershom noticed because
he
casually brush
ed
crumbs from his jeans
and changed the subject.
“Do you enjoy
doing it? Delivering messages?
Or is it just something you feel you should be doing?”

“I visit each night whether I have messages or not. It’s not by choice that I
go there
. But when I don’
t have anything t
o deliver,
I get
bored. I wait in the same place
that
I
’m pulled to
until I fall asleep again
,
then I’m
brought back here. Sometimes it can be a very long night.
So
delivering messages
keeps me busy…
and it makes
others happy.
”

“Why don’t you just go visit people
, the dead I mean
?”
h
e asked,
seeming
puzzled.

“Well, I don’t really know anyone there. I’ve moved – either houses or cities - nearly every three months since…well
,
since I can remember.
It’s hard to keep friends when you change addresses that often.
So,
I don’t know anyone really well,
not anyone
who has passed on
anyways
.”

He thought about this for a moment and
asked, “Why don’t you just make friends with other
people
while
you’re
there?”

“I
have
thought about it.
I think about walking right up to someone
and starting a conversation
. B
ut
I feel…I feel like I’m overstepping
a
boundary, like I’m
trespassing.
”

“You do? Don’t people who have passed on
exude
an overwhelming feeling of acceptance?”

I
drew in a deep breath
,
taking a moment to think about
how best to answer,
“They do
,
”
I confirmed,
but I continued, offering more insight
. “
When
I visit
there
, I don’t know that I
’ve
actually
crossed over.
I’ve never been strapped to a machine while I sleep to record my heart beat or brain
activity
…And when I get there, I don’t have the ability of flight or speed or telekinesis. I don’t have any of those…proficiencies, for lack of a better word.”

“You don’t?” he asked,
sounding
baffled. “I wonder why that is.”

“You got me.”

He watched me observantly. “I don’t think I’ve ever known how little you fit in…here or there…and how that must be challenging for you.”

“It’s tough, sure. But then you decide you don’t really care if you fit in or not.”

Gershom lit up with a
comforting
smile. “
That’s a healthy perspective.”

“It’s the only one, in my opinion. You can’t live by others
’
expectations of you.”

“
That sounds like a
belief developed
over time,
helping
you deliver messages regardless of the naysayers…”

“It is.”

“Maybe the reason y
ou were given this ability then…
is because you’re the right person to use it,” he
theorized, sincerely
.

“Honestly, Gershom. I’m not sure what to believe. I’ll just keep helping others as long as this ability lasts.”

“You know,” he said, more
to himself
than to me
,
“
you’ve
done al
l
right on your own.”

“I like to think so.”

“
Can I
ask you another question?
”

“Gershom, you can ask me anything.”

“With your ability to visit
the afterlife
…
have
you…” He paused
awkwardly
, taking a few seconds to overcome
whatever
was
troubling him
,
and
rapidly finished asking,
“Have you e
ver
tried
to find your parents?
”

I
frowned and he immediately recanted, “You really don’t have to answer that.”

“I don’t mind. I’ve wondered – a lot – whether
they
had the same ability
as
I do
.
So
, sure…I looked for them. B
ut the only way I know to
locate
people in
the afterlife
is
by knowing their date and location of death
, and
I’ve never been able to find that information here on earth. F
or some reason, every record in existence that
contained
that information has disappeared. Isn’t that strange?
”

Gershom
pinched his lips closed
, reacting to what I’d just said.
When he didn’t answer
,
I went on
.

“
I mean think about how many
documents record
a person’s death…
police
reports, death
certificates
, obituar
ies,
cemetery plot purchases…
every
one of them is gone.”

“Yeah, that
’s strange,” he replied
,
flatly.

Although he was
now
looking away, I could see pain on his face and was taken
aback
by it.

“It was a long time ago, Gershom.”

“Not so long ago…” he
said under his breath.

“What was that?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

But he was
already
starting to stand up
, his expression blank. “Huh? Oh…I said I gotta go.”

“You did?”
I swear
I
’d
heard him clearly, even if he
was mumbling
.

“Yeah. Look, do me a favor
,
okay?” h
e
asked
quickly
glancing
over
to
where Achan was sitting
.
This made me curious because I didn’t understand
what Achan had to do with
Gershom’s
request.

Still, I replied,
“S
ure. I’ll do anything for you.” A
nd
I
meant it.

That
proclamation
made
his
painful expression return. “Could you deliver a message for me to someone?”

“In
the afterlife
?”

“Yeah,” he replied, stuffing his trash into his lunch bag.

I paused, watching him and remember
ed
my promise to Ezra that I wouldn’t provide services to students at school.
Had I really promised though? Wasn’t it more of an agreement to an
unspoken
request?
I was rationalizing, and
what harm could it do
?
It was only one measly little delivery. O
f course
,
I knew I was
only
convincing myself
.
Still, Gershom was my frie
nd…and I’d already said I would. So
I ignored the knot in my stomach
,
deciding to commit the information he was about to give me to
memory
.

“Look, I know how this is going to sound but…he died July 3rd, 1
863 in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania-”

“At the
Battle
of
Gettysburg
?” Th
e surprise made my voice rise
and those nearby
started glancing
in our direction. I lowered
my voice,
asking
, “How do you know someone from back then?”