Oliver's Dilemma

The coroner appears with two guys and a gurney.

The doctor examines my, his, uh... well it's my body, so I settle for 'my' injuries. One of his assistants takes pictures. He confirms my death. I'm fucking dead.

I'M DEAD! OH! FUCK!

Sometime later—I can't tell, I don't feel the time—the crime scene people are here.

They bag me and I'm rolled to the morgue vehicle. I'm dead. Now, I'm gone. I follow the guys floating above all those people, all those curious people. Many are crying; many I don't know.

What do I do now? Just float around. What am I supposed to do?

There's Vic with a paramedic. They're transporting him to the hospital. Over there I see Dan being loaded into the ambulance. He seems out of it.

I WANT TO CRY!

FUCK!

WON'T YOU LET ME CRY?

I go back to my apartment. That is so weird. The gang of technicians is still there. I go to my bedroom. I want to be exhausted, but I can't feel exhausted. So, I pretend and lay, kind of anyway, on my bed. I pretend to cry. But I don't know how it feels to cry anymore. This is insane. I'm insane.

*** *** ***

Later, I suppose, I visit Vic's place. All I have to do is think about it, and I'm there. My heart breaks when I see him in a fetal position on the floor in the middle of the living space. He's naked, holding his knees to his chest and he's crying his heart out. I feel my heart—or rather an emotion that is profound sadness. Wow! I want to hug him. So, I pretend that I can. I put my arms around Vic, and I start crying with him.

He stops, breathes deeply and to my astonishment, I hear him say, "Oliver?"

Yes, it's me, Vic. I'm so pleased. I squeeze and I go right through him. I stay like this for a while. Vic relaxes and falls asleep. I wish I could hold you for real. I least it seems I was able to help you. Sleep, my love. I'll be back later.

Then I vanish and appear at the hospital. Dan feels okay. They release him. A good Samaritan offers him a ride to a hotel in Old Montréal. I follow. It's so extraordinary. I wish it. It happens. Once Dan settles in his room, he goes to bed fully dressed. Like Vic, he settles in a fetal position. He cries silently. Tears flow abundantly on his cheek. I do the same thing. I lay with him, hugging him. He too seems to sense my presence. "Oliver, my love." I make the same mistake when I squeeze him hard. He falls asleep. The next few days are going to be hard. I'll be with them; that you can be sure of. I'm in no hurry. I'll not depart on my own will until they find the murderer. I have a feeling I know who it is.

Dan suddenly sits. What's going on? He grabs his cell, fishes a card from his back pocket and dials the number.

"Inspector Tardif?" He listens. "I'm Dan... Euh, the guy who was holding the victim tonight. I just remember something. Oliver, the little guy..." he chokes... "Sorry." He listens again. "I gave him a small necklace some time ago. It's a solid 22-karat gold double heart each bearing the initials of one of us: OR and DS, on a gold chain. He never takes it off. It was not on him when..." He can't go on anymore. He stays on the phone, obviously, the policeman is talking to him. He gets control back again. He thanks the policeman and ends the conversation.

I immediately feel for my necklace. It's not there. I instantly appear at the morgue. My physical body is in one of those horrible drawers. No matter. I peek in. Well, Dan is right.

The police enquiry moves very fast. Christ! I seem to be everywhere at the same time. It's so weird but so exhilarating. Dan and Vic are quickly taken off the suspects' list. The knife is found in a public garbage can by a homeless guy two blocks away, not far from Joe's, who's devastated by my murder. The homeless man sees it in the garbage and asks someone to call 911. Within minutes, a police cruiser arrives and carefully picks up the knife. One of the policemen walks him to Joe's and pays for his lunch, instructing Joe to give him whatever he wants. He gives Joe forty bucks and tells him to give the change to the old guy. Joe cooks for the old guy and gives him the forty bucks.

Analysis of the necklace and the knife show traces of two different people: me and Mr. X. The blood belongs to a white male. The chef complained about his missing knife, which he reported to the police inspector who came a couple of days ago to question the people I worked with. They were all in terrible shock. The chef identified the knife as being his. He showed the inspector his secret identification mark. Inspector Tardif has a suspect. His flair and his sense of observation point him to one guy after interrogating him on the night of the murder.

It's amazing, I can follow all of this with ease. Now, I have a strong suspicion. I am with Inspector Tardif when he gets his search mandate. Yup, that's the guy. I follow him, sitting in the back of his car: an ordinary sedan.

We show up at the restaurant to the surprise of everyone there. Inspector Tardif walks in and goes directly to Peter, and slowly and clearly declares, "Mr. Peter Dunnby, you are under arrest for the murder of Mr. Oliver Ridgewood." He waves his hand, and two burly policemen grab Peter on each side. Another one puts the cuffs on his wrists and reads him his rights.

Just before they leave, Inspector Tardif, says to Peter, waving the piece of paper in his face, "I have the mandate to search you, Mr. Dunnby." He opens his collar, and sure enough, my necklace is around his neck.

*** *** ***

Friday, 1 September, Montréal.

Today's the day of my funeral. Dan and Vic, like two good friends, planned and organized it. I look at the large number of people attending the simple ceremony taking place in the chapel of the funeral home on Sherbrooke Street East. A huge cemetery. I have the nicest casket imaginable. It's the colour of the rainbow. The gay colours. Absolutely fantastic!

My heart goes out to all these wonderful people who loved me. I feel their love, and their sorrow. Vic is solid as a rock; I expected that of him. He won't be later, when he gets home. I'll be with him for the last time. That'll be hard on me, too. Dan is holding up. It's obvious that the pain is immense. Many people are around him, making sure he's all right.

The tough part is coming up: the internment. My casket is held by straps over the hole in the ground. Vic, who's holding Dan's hand, says a few words of love directly to me, and everybody starts to cry. It's beautiful. I float above my casket, looking at all the people, and I cry. Now, I can cry? I couldn't cry before. How weird is that?

The reception at the restaurant, now owned by Dan and operated by the chef, is wonderful. There's a little bit of crying, but most people are telling anecdotes, all funny ones about me and the clients I so earnestly served.

Then Vic leaves, unable to contain his pain and his profound mourning any longer. He goes home, alone, not wanting any company. I'll be there my love, to say goodbye.

Dan goes around, making sure everyone has something to drink or eat. At the end of the afternoon, exhausted by all the emotions, he, too, returns home alone. I'll see you soon, my love, to say goodbye.

I accompany Dan to my apartment, which is now his. He sits on the sofa, takes his head into his big hands and cries. I sit next to him, crying with him, for him. I whisper into his ear, "Goodbye, Dan."

Then I wish myself next to Vic. My beautiful Vic. I lay in bed as if he were spooning me. I swear that he can feel me. That's true love. I know now I made the wrong choice. He murmurs, "I'll love you, Oliver, for the rest of my life." Then he closes his eyes. I turn around, kiss him, and tell him, "I'll love you for all eternity, Vic, my true love."

Then...

*** *** ***

Ten years later.

A big guy is standing above his body not sure of what just happened.

"Yup, Vic. You're dead!" I'm standing right next to him. I can really feel him, touch him, smell him.

He turns around with a huge smile looking straight into my eyes.

"I've waited for this moment for such a long time."

For me, it was like moments ago. He extends his hand and touches me.

"I can feel you. Holy shit!"

"Come, my love. We can love each other for ... eternity."

*** *** ***

Thank you for reading this story. I hope you enjoyed it. Your feedback is important and would be greatly appreciated. Don't be shy, be honest with your comments. It's the best way for a storyteller to improve.

WhiteBeard50

[1] Galeries d'Anjou, a large shopping center about 10 km from the Village