Bermubados Island

[Writer's disclaimer: This story stems from the writer's imagination. It is purely fictional. My father passed away more than twenty years ago. I miss him everyday. This story honors him. My feelings and love for him are real.]

Will, lover-of-all-things-Dunky-Donuts, works at the Southside water treatment plant in Dorchestaw, square in the middle of kinda-rundow’n and I-dun’t-wanna-be-heaw. A man of humble beginnings raised by a single mother, he tries to better his life despite his addictions: cheap pay-for-porn and cheaper processed food. While on lunch, he sees a travel ad for Golden Ticket Airlines, where “Your comfort is our priority” snags his attention. The sticker shock stings at “$2500,” yet the “Prepare for the ride of your life” hooks him.

After work, he joins the gang for a beaw at the local dive, kitty-corner to the neighborhood tiddy bar and across the street from the KFC. His nightly routine, on autopilot, bores even him: work-beaw-home-pot-food-porn-bed. Three AM flashes, the fourth time this week, while a swirl of peppering anxiety and overwhelming pressure gnaw at him—the desire to go on a trip, live his life lean, and travel far and wide. It taps him awake nightly. His future is calling. In his fantasy life, he is a success: running on the beach, swimming in the ocean, sipping on tequila, and living the dream. He waffles.

“Fuck it, I’mma gonna do it, dammit!” He grabs his debit card.

“Insufficient funds,” the payment page reads. He deflates.

He defaults to his credit card, in the freezer, caked in ice. “Is this an emergency? Well, ahh …” he wavers. “Like hell it is!” He locates the ice pick.

“Approved, Payment Received,” the website affirms.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh,” he sighs, his dream life about to begin in 34 days.

He prints out two calendar pages for June and July. After taping them to his yellowed walls, he marks a fat “X” on June 1st with his Sharpie. He thinks I’m just one step closer to my dream life.

The following day, he affirms, “I’mma glowin’ beam of fuckin’ wicked sunshine.” His daily grind appears manageable, and with every passing day, his excitement grows—Day 8, Day 15, and Day 29. With four days left, he grabs his suitcase and begins to make a list:

• Sunscreen
• Swimsuit
• 3 Pants
• 3 Shirts
• 7 Boxers
• 2 Shorts
• 3 Short-Sleeved Shirts
• 1 Pair Flipflops
• Deodorant
• Toothbrush/paste

• Money

He ticks away to his final day, where he grabs his packed suitcase and stuffs it into his small car. He heads to the airport, parks, and hears his onboarding announcement.

“Final boarding call for Flight 662 to Bermubados Island, Gate 42, Terminal C.” His brow sweats.

He scans his boarding pass and finds his seat on the palatial plane. With top-shelf amenities: wide lanes, no discriminating curtain, roomy seats, exceptional legroom, large windows, and multiple armrests, neighboring seat mates can deter any potential risk of huffy-puffy attitudes. Upon placing his suitcase above, he notices a familiar face.

“Jenna? Jenna Robertson? Is dat you? First Communion at Biyaws Church in Dorchestaw?”

She hesitates, then smiles.

“It’s Will Bodaws from Dorchestaw!” They hug and reminisce.

He goes back to Seat 12C. While grabbing his In-flight Magazine, he sees another familiar face, Mr. Anders, his landlord. “No way, aw you kiddin’ me? What are da chances? Mr. Andaws! Hey, it’s Will, Will from Building D, Apawtment 24. Go fig ya!” He smiles and proceeds to his seat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our aircraft will be disembarking from the runway soon. Please locate your seats and buckle up. We have a long ride ahead of us!” The flight attendant hurries.

“Well, thank you so much, Miss, for leaving the door open for me,” A last-minute passenger rushes inside the plane.

The distinguished gentleman locates his seat right next to Will. He slips into his chair, and Will smiles as he sits down again. They buckle up. Will sees him and can’t place his face, but he looks familiar, like a body double for his Great Uncle Donovan.

“Funny, do I know ya from somewheraw? Ya, look familiaw?” Will queries. His fretting face mirrors his attempts to locate him.

“Donovan. Donovan Chambers, a pleasure to meet you,” his hand extends.

“Uncle Donovan? Great Uncle Donovan? Well, say it isn’t so!” Will returns the shake. “Funny, I keep seeing people I know heyaw, weiryad, that’s all, weiryad!” His head spins.

After the safety demo, the Captain announces, “Flight attendants, prepare for takeoff.” An attendant traipses through the aisle as the announcement alerts.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. We are approaching 10,000 feet and headed for Bermubados Island. We have a special passenger today, Will Boders, from Dorchester!” Their cheers warm him.

He thinks, Man, this airline knows how to make a guy like me feel likka million dollaws. This ticket certainly is worth the twenty-five hundred dollaws. Will can’t believe his eyes. He’s such a lucky man. Like those annoying mattress commercials, he imagines himself lying on a bed of soft, fluffy clouds.

The drink cart lines the aisle. “Something to drink, sir? Champagne? Coffee? Soda?” the flight attendant smiles.

“I’ll have Champagne,” Will smirks.

Donovan orders a coffee. Will’s smirk makes him smile, “Something funny?”

“Well, I just thought what the guys at da plant would say if they saw me with Champagne right nohw! Thy’d prawbably laugh thay funny asses off!” Donovan laughs back.

“Waitah second, if you'aw my Uncle Donovan, you’dah have to be like, what’s da math, one hundred fifteen yeaws old now, how can that be? Are ya messin’ with me?”

“Not at all. I am your uncle.”

“Wait a second, heah, is this a dream? Is this one of those where I’m walkin’ around, and everyone knows I don’t have clothes on from the waist down but me? Cuz that’s not good! Am I gonna wake up all sweaty and pist off cause I really wanna go on this trip? Eye-ah’ve been waitin’ more than a month, counting down my days. Red pen and all. Cashed all-ah my PTO in, and I am goin’ to Burbodos, dammit!”

“No, No, this is real, alright!” Donovan confirms. “You’re here ’cause you were supposed to be here. We were expecting you. I was expecting you!”

“Wait, what? How could you be expecting me on this trip when ya like a hundred plus yeahs or so? I don’t follow.”

Donovan turns his body and then points to Will’s bloody shirt.

“What tha hell? Where’d this come from? Have I been walkin’ around like this all day, dammit?”

“You have, Will.”

“I don’t understand. Do I need an ambulance or a doctor? Dammit, we'ya nevah gonna get to that Behmavados, and I could realllllly use a vacation, Uncle. I mean Donovan, err, who'evaw ya are!”

“Well, you don’t need a doctor. You don’t have to worry anymore, ever.”

“Wait, what are ya sayin'?” Will’s eyebrows arch.

“Well, on your way to the airport, you stopped by a liquor store for some smokes and got shot protecting a lady during a robbery. There, in the stomach, and you didn’t make it.” Donovan points.

“Waita second, am I, am I … dead?”

“Yes, Will, you’re dead. We all are,” with confirmation.

“What tha hell, how did I make my flight if I’m wicked dead?”

“While you were counting down your days, Will,” he explains, “We knew your days were numbered.”

“What? This is my Death Day? Are ya gonna sing to me like at Chevy’s?” his humor attempting to cushion his growing panic.

“No, no, we’re not. We’re here to carry you to the next phase.”

“Like heaven?”

“Like whatever you want to call it.” Donovan justifies.

“Peanuts?” the flight attendant interrupts.

“No, I don’t wanna any damn nuts, honey,” Will flusters.

“Lemme get this straight, I’m dead, you’aw dead, you’aw a hundred and some change, we’aw on aw way to Beahbadodos, and I must really be dreamin’.”

“No, we’re the folks meant to take you onwards. We’re here, some of us you recognize, to help you along; that way, liking what you see, you’d wanna proceed with the trip, despite your bloody shirt.”

“Wait, we’reh goin’ ta hell?” His panicky hands grow sweaty.

“Hell is a construct, manmade. There’s no such thing. We’re here to bridge the gap. Some of us were put on the planet to help you get where you needed to be. We were always there to support and guide you. We came into your lives for a split second, sometimes longer.”

“Wait, what about my family, my mothaw?”

“Well, there are some people called Greeters. They greet you like family when you come into the world. They wait until you are born and celebrate when you’re here. They peek into your crib and congratulate you on your arrival.”

“So, my family are really Greetahs?”

“Yes, that’s their title.”

“And what about the othaws who’re left behind? Won’t they be sad?”

“Yes, that’s true, they’ll be sad, like your friends and others that knew you well. They are the ones that will join you at your funeral and attend your wake. They are there to honor you for all the light you brought into the world. They are called Appreciators. They’re important to remind you that your presence was necessary and needed and, because of you, their lives were affected too. You left an imprint on them.”

So, wait, there are Greetaws and Appreciataws, and what ah you called, this bunch of ya, he'yah?” His finger circles.

“Well, we're Guiders. We bridge the gap, like today, now, here. We are taking you from where you were on Earth and helping you move on to ….”

“Bewbadivos? I mean Heaven?” Will interrupts.

“Heaven, the next phase, Light, Source, Bermubados Island, whatever you want to call it based on your understanding of what’s next.”

“Well, what aw the next set of guides called?”

“Those guides are called Meeters. They meet you when you get to the Other Side. Like your family, they are over the moon to meet you. They’ve prepared for you just as your family prepared for your arrival when you were a newly-born baby. Meeters are excited to see you when you pass to the Other Side. They’ve passed away, like your favorite relatives, beloved friends, former lovers, lost children, and coveted pets. They are there to help you, so you may recognize them or their energy when you see them again.”

Will begins to weep from all the unexpected changes.

“I know, I know, it’s a lot. It always is.” His hand rests on Will’s.

One question follows another throughout their trip.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are descending and will arrive at Bermubados Island in roughly ten minutes.”

“It’s about time for you to pass over. Are you ready?”

“I’m not sureh. This is a lot to handle. I’m scayed.”

“Don’t be scared. We are all here for you, Will Boders from Dorchester. Everyone on the Other Side is there to meet you, all of them, all the people you love. Don’t worry.”

“How, how do I do this?” He grabs his forehead.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived. We’re here and landed. Please throw up your hands and cheer for Will. He made this journey incredibly enjoyable!”

“We’re ready, Will. Stand up, go to the door, and turn the handle.”

“I wanna, I do, but I’m scay-ed.”

“We’re here for you, Will, and so are they … just go over to the big door and turn … the… handle,” His voice softens.

Will unbuckles his belt, stands, and looks over at Uncle Donovan. He looks back at the crowd. They cheer. He walks to the door. And goes to turn the handle.

“Don’t be afraid, Will. We love you, and so will they. Go ahead. Do it,” he smiles.

Will takes one last look at the crowd.

He turns the handle and sees the Other Side.

He smiles like nothing ever before.

Takes a step forward.

And

everything

fades

to

white.