Beth and I had our first fight earlier this evening. I said some things. She said some things. Next thing I knew, Beth grabbed her keys, stormed out the door, and drove off in the pouring rain. Silence screamed inside the house as a wave of emptiness flooded over me. I could not breathe. My mind was racing. God, please keep Beth safe.
Pacing, sick with worry, hoping Beth would walk through the door any minute or at least call and let me know she was all right. Pacing; did not know what else to do. Seems like forever since the fight, but it’s only been an hour or so. Where is she?
At eight thirty, the phone rang. I prayed to hear Beth’s voice when I answered, but I did not. It was the police calling to tell me that Beth had been involved in an accident. They told me to get to the White County emergency room as soon as possible. The receiver dropped to the floor. My mind was in panic mode. I felt like every bone in my body was going to scream. Please God, don’t let this be happening.
I ran out the door, jumped in the car and took off for the hospital. It was raining harder now. This can’t be happening. I hate this. God, please, I can’t lose Beth, she’s all I have, she’s everything to me. Beth has to know that I am sorry. I should have stopped her from leaving.
“Beth, I’m sorry. Please be okay. Don’t leave me Beth. Please, don’t leave me.”
It’s taking forever to get there in this rain. Need to hurry, have to get there before it’s too late. “Beth, I am so… RED LIGHT. CAR COMING. NO. CAN’T STOP. MOOOVVVE…”
I remember a loud noise, then quiet, rain on my face, the smell of gas, then nothing.
There’s pressure on my chest, someone pushing. I hear voices—talking fast—getting farther away. Can’t understand what their saying. Pushing has stopped. Don’t feel the pressure anymore. Silence. The room sounds empty. Feel a presence near me. Can’t make it out. “Who’s there?”
“It’s Beth, Charlie. I’m right here, waiting for you.”
It was Beth. I could see her now, reaching out her hand to me. “Thank God. Are you all right, Beth? Are you hurt?”
“Take my hand Charlie, everything is going to be okay now.”
As I reached for her hand, I remember a sensation like floating. Beth and I were hand in hand, but something was different. I was hearing another voice that sounded far away.
“Time of death; eight fifty four.”
Beth was next to me. The room below us was dimly lit and empty of voices. Separated by a curtain were two gurneys; both with sheets pulled full length to cover the bodies.
“Beth, what is going on?”
“Charlie, we both died tonight. Those two bodies on the gurneys are you and me.”
“That can’t be. This has got to be some kind of dream.”
“It’s no dream Charlie. It is real. We both were in accidents earlier this evening. I died from my injuries at eight thirty. You died from your injuries a few minutes ago.”
“Eight thirty! Beth, that’s when I got the call to come to the hospital.”
“I know, Darling. Who would have ever thought this would happen, but here we are.”
I listened to Beth’s words as I looked at the scene below. Both of us were lying there, dead. It was the fight. If we hadn’t fought, this wouldn’t be happening.
“Beth, I am so sorry that we fought. It was all my fault.”
“Don’t worry, Charlie,” she said, as she squeezed my hand. “We have eternity to talk about it.”
As the scene below us began to fade, I remembered the words Beth and I chose for our wedding vows just six months before, “…wherever you go, I will go, and wherever you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God. Where you die, I will die, and there will I be buried…”
Copyright © 2011 LeRoy Dean All Rights Reserved
Tomorrow’s Blog: “The Face of God” (a sequel to “The Fight”)