The Lost Marigold

There it was. It seemed so permanent being in stone. I felt like before this point, standing in the rain ruining a black suit with grief, that she would walk back through that door to the bedroom. Wearing something fancy and a smile. The smile was all I cared about. Now I am stuck here with tears in my eyes masked by the tears of some deity sharing its grief with me. Almost like it too was sorry that it took her from me. Everyone has to go sometime. Just not thirty-five years young and full of love. Full of life.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” I heard it a thousand times and yet again from someone else just leaving the somber gathering. I know they mean well. I just wish for my waning sanity that they try to figure something else out to keep it from being so hum-drum. He waited for me to react to him. I nodded at the man and sent him away.

She was all of our loss. Someone important in this world. Fought more for basic human rights and the environment than anyone else I know. A pillar of the community and really brought people together. I was just the one lucky enough to spend most of my life with her. See everything she cared about. Help motivate her while she wasn’t feeling herself. Her lows were just as good as her highs.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” another woman said after she was done wasting her life away mourning someone who she probably barely knew. Though I felt a little resentment towards them. Being able to walk away from this so easily without their lives being changed too much. My life is shattered. From even the very beginning of it by rolling over to see an angel sharing my bed but now only empty space that seems to dip into oblivion. I shook her outstretched hand and I bid her a good day so she could leave.

I could feel the tears rolling out as if my ducts were just a faucet and someone forgot to turn off the tap. Though my face was strong and stoic for everyone else. There was relief that the rain was covering my weakness. I didn’t want people to see how bad I really was. I didn’t want people to worry.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” an older man with fuzzy white hair came up to me with a card in his outstretched hand. “It doesn’t have to be forever.” He dropped the card off in my automated outstretched hand that was supposed to accept his. I shook the card in a daze. I looked down and we both kind of chuckled. “Call me when you are feeling up to it.”

“Thank you.” It came out choked as it was the first noise I had made all day other than crying in private before this whole dog and pony show. My voice quickly cleared up and I was able to reply with a little more base. “I’ll do that thanks.” Maybe I should get some counseling.

Putting the card in my pocket I moved on to the next person. Shaking hands was the only time rain drops weren’t pattering gently on my head reminding me that time was marching on without me. Saying my goodbyes to everyone else which I could say hello to only one person that will never show up again.

After saying goodbye to the last person to leave I stood there alone in the rain for the next few hours just staring at that same rock with her name engraved on it. Clair Guffrey. Beloved wife and staple of the community. I probably read that phrase thousands of times and it still just washed over me as new information every time. I remembered her laughing saying that she was going to hate my last name getting married but not enough to make sure it wouldn’t happen. I placed one pressed marigold that Clair used to keep as a bookmark on the grave with a rock on it to keep it from blowing away. It was still sealed in its plastic that she kept it in.

Getting home I didn’t even dry off. Or take my shoes off. I just sat down on my brown leather couch. I stared at the television out of comfort rather than expecting something. It was just familiar. Like the whiskey glass, gentleman’s count. Only things unfamiliar about the night was Clair was not there, and the glass was filled to the brim.

Sipping the whiskey I stared at the card. Hope is what it promised. It had the doctor’s name though it was mostly smudged due to the water damage from the rain in my pocket. I pulled out my phone and called. It was past ten but I could always leave a message. That way they could get to me when they want.

After a couple of rings, I heard a voice chime through. “I’ve been expecting your call. Usually it isn’t this soon.” His voice was like the man who talked to me at the funeral. Generic but recognizable.

“Yeah. Is this a counseling thing?” I tried to sound together but between the emotions and whiskey I am sure there was a shake in my voice.

“Of a sorts. Why don’t you come on down. Address is on the back of the card. We are open twenty-four hours a day. We know grieving is a process and don’t do appointments. But trust me, sir, this will more than likely be something worth your time and consideration.”

“I’ll be there first thing in the morning.” I replied.

“We both know that isn’t true. I’ll see you when I see you.” He replied before the line clicked and let the dead tone through.

He was probably right. I finished the glass and promptly passed out in the chair.

The next afternoon I was standing outside of the building. It wasn’t anything spectacular. If anything most people would have mistaken it for a run down restaurant that just wouldn’t close down. I opened the door expecting a receptionist but was greeted by an empty room.

“Hello?” I just called into the ether not expecting a response.

“In the back!” I heard the familiar voice call back. I walked through a set of swinging double steel doors and they opened up like a portal into another world of lights and tubes with glowing liquids running through them. “Over hear my, sir.” A voice called from more towards the middle. Fiddling with knobs and dials. Whirring of the machines went from soft to growling seemingly at random.

“This is not what I expect when I go to a therapy session.” I said it almost as a joke. Though I don’t think anyone would expect much more than a comfy lounge seat and a desk hiding a doctor in his chair.

“Well this is a therapy of sorts. One most people take. And there is only one session.” He replied with a smile and enough confidence to fill the room.

“What is it? What do you mean?” I was starting to get a little curious.

“This machine searches through a series of worlds matched with the perfect criteria to give you back everything you have lost.” He was still flipping knobs and levers and moving to different monitors and checking on things before moving onto the next thing.

“You’re going to have to explain things to me a little simpler.” This one was a bit over my head.

“A time machine.” He looked at me plainly like calling it that hurt his pride in some way.

“So this would bring me back to before I lost her? Then I would be older and she might not love me like I do her. How much does this service cost anyway? How many people have you conned?” I was starting to get a little mad.

“Not like that at all. It brings you to a world where you didn’t lose her. But she lost you. And she needs you. Parallel worlds and all of that. It is like a time machine in a sense that it can erase the miserable future laid out for you and bring a light back for two longing people. You will just have to sign everything over to me. For you will no longer exist in this world. Your belongings will only exist for you in your new world.” His smile was gone. His false confidence that radiated from him evaporated and was replaced with a serious tone and demeanor.

“You can do this?” What he was saying was too good to be true. Humans have come a long way but this is just beyond imagination.

“Look at this monitor.” He waved over to a screen switching between short videos of Clair crying, sitting at my grave, laying in bed alone. Everything I thought she would be doing if it were me. I can’t believe I would have preferred to take her place seeing her in that kind of pain. Thinking that for a second she wouldn’t be as sad as I would be.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” I didn’t mention the fact that I planned on ending anyway. At least this way if it is a murder my family gets my stuff. I signed the papers.

“Just step over here.” He motioned as I stepped onto a pad that had wires hanging down around it from something that looked like a showerhead. It was wide enough that none of the hanging wires touched me at my widest point if I stood in the middle of the contraption.

“That’s it?” I said almost dumbfounded at how easy it was for me to take all the pain away. One way or another.

“Yep.” he said as he flipped a switch. The showerhead started to spin and as the wires got farther from each other they started to spark to maintain a connection.

“Is this thing safe?” I asked. I don’t know entirely why I was worried other than natural instinct.

“Should be. I’ve put people on the monitor…” He got drowned out as he continued as the machine grew louder and louder. I soon couldn’t even hear myself think and soon thought I would be going deaf. All of a sudden everything was muddled by silence and a bright light. I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or closed.

Making the motion of opening and closing my eyes the light was still there but not strong enough to make me recoil anymore. I started to feel rain dropping down on me and the scene built itself around me. The grass and trees came first. The stones from the morning before lined themselves in well kept rowes.

This felt forgein even though I have been here before. I was here just the morning before. I should be getting a deja vu moment. Then the people loaded up. The last one was the mourner. Still covered in a bright halo I recognized her before her features were fully restored. Everything down to the crease of her cheek and the slant of her jaw showing her inner beauty for all to see.

She had tears rolling down her face. Tears that were meant for me. The tears I had for her. I stood opposite of her a ways down the field just watching her. Watching her be polite to those wishing her well. Most went in for a hug and didn’t give her a chance to shake their hand instead. She was so strong when I was alive. It was sad to see that I was the reason she was so strong. It brought a tear to my eyes.

I waited until the last person left and I started towards her. She knelt at my stone and I put a hand on her shoulder.

by Stephen Donnelly