I haven't seen or heard from Jesus since my fight with Lucy during the shooting. I'm starting to expect he won't be back for a while. Which is fine I guess. Everyone you love leaves eventually.
I got a job to pay back the butchery I robbed with Lucy. That seems like it was just yesterday. The work keeps me distracted. I take as many shifts as I can and avoid taking my breaks as much as possible. Any downtime just allows me to think, which is something I don't want to do.
It pisses my boss off that I don't take my breaks, but if they fire me for working too hard I think that would look good on my record.
Soon after I forgave Lucy, Squid skyrocketed into fame. Turns out that surviving cancer and a school shooting is an impressive feat for a teenager to go through. They're getting a special episode on Sixtey Minutes. A whole hour dedicated to their life.
Only there's one problem. For weeks Squid has been trying to get me to do an interview with them and an interviewer. Squid promises that they won't ask any stupid, triggering questions but as of now, I've told them I'm uncomfortable with all of it.
Squid stopped asking three weeks ago. They're getting on a plane heading straight for Los Angeles first thing in the morning. From what I hear, it might be a permanent change.
"They're saying some people out there are looking to make a movie about my life," Squid says to me over the phone while I'm lifting some boxes at work, "They're actually going to have all of this as a movie."
I can't imagine me as a movie character. It just doesn't feel right. I never wanted to be famous. Never like this.
And what if people get the wrong idea about Lucy and she gets a cult following? What if copycats start forming because of what she did and Devils start rising from every corner of the world?
Whatever is coming next, I have to be ready for it. I have to prepare.
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Delilah Lor has stayed in the top ten of all streaming apps since the shooting. With my permission, Daniel uploaded her last song to me. It made her soar to number one for a few weeks. She's number two right now and she's been staying there for a couple of days now.
"You did it gorgeous," I say to the picture of her my phone screen saver, "You're a legacy."
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With the money from Delilah's music, Delilah's Dads have decided to open up their very own orphanage. They've named it after her, 'Delilah's Eden'. It's a Christian-based organization; with a mission goal focusing on giving orphans hope know they are already adopted into The Kingdom Of Heaven. And that they have a God that loves them.
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It turns out the guard Lucy killed in the butchery was holding onto the rights of the company. Out of spite, the guard never gave the rightful owner of the restaurant. But now that they're deceased the butchery can go to its rightful owner. Who is the usurper? Well, it turns out it was always meant to be Jaclynne. Before Delilah's dad took his life, he left the restaurant to her, but the security guard intercepted that letter. However, now Jaclynne owns a restaurant that she and all her people can hang out at. I know they won't accept money from me, so I'm sending what I owe the restaurant anonymously.
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Stacy is in crutches now and still dating Daniel. They're gonna make it. Daniel is taking her seriously and Stacy is a changed woman after the events she's been through. She appreciates life in a way very few can, and she cherishes every second she has on this Earth.
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Nick was promoted to commissioner soon after the events of the shooting. He deserves it after what he's done for me and the rest of Hawkins. Hopefully, he can mold and craft more men and women with the talent that he has for his line of work.
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Then I guess there's me. Besides working I eat alone. I sleep alone. I do everything alone. I hardly see my mother anymore. She's buried herself in work as well. Really, all I've been doing is trying to learn how to live life without her.
Sometimes I still expect to wake up to her right next to me in bed; her peaceful, somber, face just barely asleep. Her eyes dance behind her eyelids as she dreams and dreams.
But then my eyes focus and I realize she's not there. And I realize she's never going to be again.
So I listen to her voice, really the only thing I have left of her that's still alive. And she sings to me calling me to a faraway place where there's no pain. No fear. No hate.
I haven't visited her grave yet. After work, I'll visit her. I'd like to say a few things.
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Her grave has an ostentatious amount of flowers around it. All blue fitting her hair color.
I clear my throat, then just start talking:
"Hey, gorgeous. Sorry, I haven't been around lately. Just been dealing with—the amazing cosmic struggle that is life. You once said that you weren't going anywhere. That you were in this for the long haul. And I believed you. And when you died in my arms—I thought that was the last time I'd ever see you again. But no. You found me. In that video. And hell maybe you cured Squid's cancer. And maybe you help get Nick that promotion. And maybe you're the reason Stacy can still walk! Because I've been thinking all these miracles can be coincidences. But don't a bunch of coincidences make a pattern?"
The hot wind blows against my skin. It's May and yet it feels like everything happened yesterday.
"You know the cemetery is closing soon," A man beside me says. I don't remember when he got there but I don't look.
"Yeah—I'm—I'm just about to leave," I tell him.
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"Girlfriend?"
"Yeah. Yeah..."
"I lost my cousin. He was a good man."
"I wish she was still here."
"She is. If you listen."
"Nah. I mean—really here."
"Judas. Just listen."
How did he know my name? I turn towards the man and I can't believe it. It's Jesus. Alive and well in a robe made of moving stars and the cosmos.
"How long have you been there?" I ask.
"The entire time," he replies, "I never left Judas."
"But I needed you and you weren't there! At least you never talked to me."
"Judas—do you hear that?"
"Hear what? I don't—"
Then I do hear it. The faintest sound of a guitar playing. It sounds like it's coming from all around us.
"What is that?" I ask. Jesus doesn't respond. The guitar progressively gets louder—like it's getting closer to us.
Then a woman starts to sing. And it's a voice that I would say only belongs to one person, but it somehow sounds even better. More refined. She sings to me:
"And even when I lost my hair to rage and bubble gum
You stood beside me then and there until the cut was done
And even when you lost yourself in all of those lost souls
You kissed me then, you held me up
You were the shoulder I cried on..."
"There's—that can't be—" I say to Jesus. But he doesn't say anything. The song continues to progress to the second verse:
"And then time passed on, and there were divisions between
I prayed upon a dying star
To show us what we'd seen
The Earth, the wind, the snow, the sun, and waiting for it to change
And all the snow that tumbled down danced atop my face."
It transitions into the chorus and there's no doubt in my mind that it's her. It has to be:
"I'll be wherever you are
I'll be wherever you are
I'll be wherever you are
I'll be wherever you are
I'll be..."
Then, a woman emerges from behind Jesus in a dress that was made from the infinite ire of the universe, fitting what Jesus is wearing. Her ocean-green eyes meet mine as she picks away at her beautiful burgundy guitar. Her hair is this cosmic blue, a mixture of purples and blues and greens that culminate together to make this complex color I've never seen before.
I collapse to my knees. I can't believe I'm seeing her here. Right now.
She continues to the next part of the song, putting her entire being into it:
"I'll be wherever you are
I'll be wherever you are
I'll be wherever you are
I'll be wherever you, 'ever you are
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Judas who redeemed us all
Savior of the Earth
The universe had shined it's stars
His heart was made of grace
And even though you lost me to something so obscene
What you've done for all of us shows us that God will never leave
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I'll be wherever you are
I'll be wherever you are
I'll be wherever you are
I'll be wherever you are..."
The tears are flowing at this point. The woman hands the guitar to Jesus and makes her way toward me, kneeling to me.
"Don't cry, Handsome," she says, wiping a tear away from my cheek, "I'm here now. Sorry, it took so long."
I examine her face and really examine it this time. Her ocean-green eyes captivate me. I feel the storm inside me settling when I look into them. She has that nose ring on her left nostril and when she smiles at me those killer dimples show, but they show even more this time. It's like she's more slender now. Like she's filled into her body more. Like she's at her peek physical self.
Here I am never thinking she could be more gorgeous, yet here I am being proven wrong.
"Delilah?" I ask. Just to make sure.
She smiles, her perfect white teeth showing, "Yeah. That's me. Sorry about dying."
I almost tackle her with my embrace. Her body feels warm. Soft. Alive. How is this possible?
"Only you can see and feel her," Jesus says.
"Like you," I say. He nods.
"Remember when I said I would depart from you? Well, that time has come, Judas. I have entrusted Delilah with you from now on. Don't worry. I've taught her well. But for now, I must go. Someone else needs me."
Delilah and I stand, holding each other's hands. Normally, I feel like I'd be somewhat upset by this news. But I'm not. I have Delilah now.
"I love you both," Jesus says, "And take care of each other. Have faith in each other. Remember, Faith isn't stepping into the unknown. It's the opposite. It's stepping into what you already know. The truth."
With that, he waves goodbye to us, turns his back, and begins to walk away.
The question burns into my mind. I have to ask her.
"What happens?" I ask. She turns her head to me and chuckles softly.
"What?" She asks.
"When we die? What happens?"
"Yeah, what the fuck happens?"
"So what does happen when you die, Delilah?"
"Speaking for myself?"
"Speaking for yourself."
"Myself. My self. That's the issue. That's the whole issue with the whole thing. That world, 'self.' That's not the word. That's not right, that isn't..." she smiles, "That isn't. How did I forget that? When did I forget that? The body stops a cell at a time, but the brain keeps firing those neurons. Little shock waves, like fireworks inside, and I'd thought I'd despair or feel afraid, but I don't feel any of that. None of it. Because I'm too busy. I'm too busy in this moment. Remembering. Of course.
I remember that every atom in my body was forged in a star. This matter, this body, is mostly just empty space after all. And solid matter? It's just energy vibrating very slowly and there is no me. There never was. The electrons of my body mingle and dance with the electrons of the ground below me and the air I'm no longer breathing. And I remember, there is no point where any of that ends and I begin.
I remember I am energy. Not memory. Not self. My name. My personality. My choices. They all came after me. I was before them and I will be after and everything else is pictures picked up along the way. Fleeting little dreamlets printed on the tissue of my dying brain. And I am the lightning that jumps between. I am the energy firing the neurons, and... I'm returning. Just by remembering, I'm returning home. And it's like a drop of water falling back into the ocean of which it's always been a part. All things... a part. All of us... a part. You, me and Squid, and my mother and my dads. Everyone who's ever been. Every plant. Every animal. Every atom. Every star. Every galaxy. All of it.
More galaxies in the universe than there is snowflakes on top of the Rocky Mountains and that's what we're talking about when we say 'God'. The one. The universe and it's infinite dreams. We are the universe dreaming of itself. It's simply a dream that I think is my life, every time. But I'll forget this. I always do. I always forget my dreams.
But now, in this split-second, in the moment I remember, the instant I remember, I comprehend everything at once. There is no time. There is no death. Life is a dream. It's a wish. Made again and again and again and again and on into eternity. And I am all of it. I am everything. I am all. I am that I am. I am she."
There's a huge smile across my face and tears streaming down my face. She wipes my face with her thumbs.
"I need to make a call," I say. I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Squid. They pick up the phone after two rings.
"Hey Squid, do you still have room for me to come to LA with you?" I ask.
"Of course!" They say, "Be at my house at two thirty in the morning."
"Cool. See you then."
I hang up the phone and Delilah lays her head on my left shoulder.
"We heading to the city of fallen angels?" Delilah asks.
"Yeah. Who knows. It might be permanent. I think a fresh start would be good for us."
From where we're standing, the entire town of Hawkins can be seen below us. It's evening, so the town's lights are on, illuminating the valley.
"Lot of people to seek and save in LA," Delilah points out.
"There's that too. And with you by my side, I think we'll be unstoppable."
"I could teach you how to play! We could take the city by storm with our music and our truth."
"Then it's settled. We're moving to LA."
Our eyes meet and our lips clash with each other. I have no idea what Los Angeles will hold for me. But the feeling in my chest and the sweaty feeling in my hands tells me that this is the right way to go. This is the path God wants me to go down. There's no doubt about it.
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The Souls We Choose To Be will be continued in Part 2...198Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVgVdnHw9lM
