A Whole New World

"I'm serious. What's wrong?"

"Why would something be wrong?"

She waited, expecting some kind of answer. Finally, I tore my eyes from the picture and looked at her. The worry was evident in her face, and I could also tell that she had something she wanted to tell me, but first she wanted me to tell her what was wrong.

"Hank," I answered, "The bartender, he's really your father, isn't he?"

Without hesitation, she nodded, "Yes, he is."

"But you said that he died eight years ago."

"Yes, I did."

"Then you lied to me."

She took a deep breath, and then replied, "No. I told you the truth. He died eight years ago. He and my mother are both dead."

"Huh? If he's dead, then how could he be tending the bar?"

Tears stood unshed in her eyes, "You're not going to like the answer to that, Lewis."

I thought about that for a second, my heart pounding suddenly. What did she mean?

"Maybe not, but I still have to know."

"They're both dead, and so am I."

"You're…this is a joke, right? This makes no sense."

"It's no joke. That infection I told you about, it did more than keep me from having children. It spread too much before anybody could do anything. I died almost two years ago at the hospital in town. In fact, everybody you've seen in town, at the bar, they're all dead."

My mind reeled at all this, and I just couldn't…I wouldn't believe all this nonsense.

"Are you crazy? There's no way you or anybody here in town are dead. We just made love…you can't do that with a ghost!"

The tears in her eyes spilled down her cheeks. It genuinely hurt her to have to tell me all this so bluntly, but hinting at it, or any subtlety at all would do no good.

"You can and you did, and it's because you're dead too."

For more than a minute, I tried to process this information, but it was no use. How could I be dead with all that I'd experienced, after I'd finally met a woman worth the wait and all the misery of my past relationship? All the sensations, all the contact with Clara, how was this possible? Were ghosts actually allowed to feel…anything?

I attempted to put all these questions into actual words, "But…how…this can't be true!"

"I knew what had happened to you the moment I met you, the second you saw my car and spoke to me. If you were living, you wouldn't have even seen me. Try to remember…do you remember what happened on the ride here?"

I struggled to remember every second of the ride, hoping that by doing so, I could prove Clara wrong.

"We left campus around nine this morning, Jamie, Kenny, and me, stopping to gas up on the way, and to buy some food for the week. Then we spent the day driving, until we got here about four, four-thirty. We checked into the first motel we saw, and they wanted to take a nap, so I went for a walk, got some coffee in one of the shops, and then I saw you. If we're all dead, then where are Jamie and Kenny? I haven't seen them at all."

Clara sighed, you three didn't all die. In fact, neither of your friends really died. They were pretty bad off, though. That explains why they rode into town with you, or you would've just walked in alone. When they took a nap, it's because they either gained consciousness, or were resuscitated. It happens sometimes, especially with people in a coma. Can you remember the deer?"

I'd been trying to remember the drive here, and when she mentioned a deer, I felt like I couldn't breathe, it hit me so hard.

It had been about…maybe two-thirty or three, a deer, hearing the engine of our car, ran out in front of us. I remembered.

"I wasn't wearing my seat belt. I remember flying out of the car when it skidded sideways and hit a tree."

Clara nodded, the tears streaming, "You hit a tree. It broke your neck instantly. I'm not sure exactly what happened to your friends. They're not part of this world, but the world of the living."

I shook my head; all this information, even with my sudden recollection, was difficult to understand, "But what is this place, then? How come I'm not in heaven, or hell for that matter?"

"That, I'm not very sure about. From what's been explained to me by others, this place is sort of like a waiting room. My father seems to think of it in religious terms. We have to wait until Judgment day, when all the souls of the living and the dead will be judged and dispatched to either heaven or hell. Because we're already dead, then we get to wait until then, I guess."

I asked my next question before I realized how wrongly it could be taken, "Do I have to stay here?"

She winced, and I knew I'd been stupid to ask it like that. She answered sadly, "You're…free to go wherever you want in this world. The dead are everywhere, and they'll recognize you as the same. If you…want to leave, then I won't stop you."

I didn't want her to think that I was so ungrateful, or that I had no real feelings for her. I shook my head, "Oh God, I didn't mean it as if I was just going to leave you here. I just wanted to know if we're all confined to one place, or if…Clara, I'm not going anywhere."

She wiped at her eyes, "It's okay. You're don't have to be committed to me because of what we just did."

Apparently, I had some making up to do here, "Do you realize that you're the first woman that's made everything I've gone through worth it all? Of course, it's a little unsettling that I had to die to meet you, but it's worth all that, too. I think Hank will have to beat me away with a stick to keep me from being with you."

She threw her arms around me, much to my happiness, and kissed me. Then she looked at me, "I hope you mean that."

"Well," I grinned, "I'd rather not be beaten away with a stick, but I don't think I bruise too easily."

"Please," her face grew solemn, "I want to know that you mean what you said."

"I wish I had died sooner just so I could've met you years ago."

She hugged me tightly, and unlike when Brenda hugged me like that, I felt safe and happy, not confined or trapped. I could easily get used to being dead.