A short story

Raeni hadn’t expected to die, so it was a bit of a surprise when it came so suddenly. She would have said it hit her like a bolt out of the blue, but in all honesty she couldn’t remember any bolts, blue or otherwise. One minute she was walking through the street, listening to some cool tunes on her ear pods and scrolling through her messages, next she was engulfed in an all-encompassing darkness. She felt no pain, no agony or long, lingering torment. Just a sudden detachment from her body and an abrupt liberation from life. There had been a tunnel, naturally. She had glided through a swirling vortex and emerged into – into her old living room. To say she was confused was an understatement. 

‘Where the hell am I?’ she muttered to herself, as the vortex gave way to a dimly lit room, complete with brightly-coloured, patterned furnishings and the kind of Jamaican, cultural furnishings she was familiar with from her childhood.

‘Oh wow, this is just like me old yard,’ she laughed to herself in pleasant affirmation of her surroundings. ‘Ain’t never seen this stuff since for forever. Look, there’s me old lava lamp I got when I got me first flat. And me Union Jack rug. I loved that rug. Oh and me Tupac poster. God, I’d forgotten I had that. This is wicked.’ 

Had she felt able, she would have leapt to her feet and given herself a guided tour of her new surroundings, but she found herself seated on the most comfortable sofa she’d ever sat on. What’s more, it was her old sofa. The one she’d always regretted replacing. Suddenly, she was overcome with intense sentiment and melancholia.

‘Where am I man? This place is bussing. It’s like a wicked mash-up of all the good bits of everything I’ve ever had. Is this heaven? Am I dead? I don’t remember dying. I’m too young to die. I’m only thirty-three.’

Just then, a huge wall-mounted TV switched itself on and the words ‘Movie Night’ emblazoned themselves across the screen. Raeni sat back and pushed herself even further into her old plush sofa, if that were possible. She dried her eyes and looked at the screen. 

‘Oh cool! A movie! Ah do love a gud chick flick.’ 

She noticed a remote control on the arm of the sofa. Where did that come from? She hadn’t seen that before. And then some popcorn materialised. Things were getting stranger still. The screen changed and suddenly it was filled with a scrolling selection of small menu items, squares with images inside them, and sub-text underneath. 

The first menu item said: ‘Play mates’. She pressed it. A film began playing. ‘I hope this is porno,’ she laughed. ‘Be good to get something spicy in heaven.’

The scene was set in a nursery, where lots of small children were running around noisily and playing boisterously. In one corner, a girl sat away from the adult carers, crying pitifully. Someone had pushed her over and stolen her dolly. This went on for a while until another little girl approached her. She offered her a doll from an outstretched hand. 

‘Here you go Emma, you can have my dolly instead,’ the second girl said kindly.

‘This is me!’ Raeni cried. ‘I remember that dress. Oh my God, I’m so tiny. Cute though.’

The little girl did not take the doll. ‘I want my Mammy,’ she wailed. Little Raeni went over and hugged her. ‘Don’t cry. Shush,’ she said patting her back. At that moment, an adult came over, picked up the first girl and comforted her. The adult thanked Raeni and said she was a good girl for being so nice to Emma. The scene ended.

‘Awwww look at me, being all kind and lovely to the little white kid. I was so adorable back then wasn’t I?’

Raeni saw the next menu item on the screen but didn’t press play. Instead, she wondered what on earth was going on. Why was she being shown clips of herself as a little kid? Where was she? Who was controlling all of this? She spent a while trying to think of the answers to the questions, but when none were forthcoming, she realised she had no option but to play the next clip.

‘A cup of tea would be nice,’ she called up to the ceiling. ‘If you’re listening that is.’

The next scene was set in a grubby, sparsely decorated kitchen. A woman was milling around the worktops, preparing a meal, while a bored, disinterested girl sat at a kitchen table with text books and exercise books scattered around in front of her. 

‘That homework won’t do itself Raeni,’ the matronly woman hissed. ‘Get your back into it girl.’

‘Mamma!’ The Raeni of the present exclaimed from her sofa. ‘Oh look at you. You’re so young. So beautiful.’ She put the remote control down and wept. ‘I miss you so much mamma. Every day I think of you. Why did you have to leave us? That damn cancer!’

However, the young Raeni had none of the enthusiasm for her mother as the older Raeni had. ‘Stop moaning at me woman,’ the young girl snapped. ‘I’ll get it done. I just can’t be bothered right now, can I?’

‘You could have had it done an hour ago. Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today. That’s what my dad used to say.’

‘I’m not putting it off till tomorrow. I’ll do it later. Anyway, granpa’s a fine one to talk. He’s never done a day’s work in his life.’

Raeni’s mamma was clearly offended. She stopped cooking and began waving the kitchen knife at her daughter. ‘Don’t you dare offend your elders girl. That man worked day and night to put food on our table. He came over on the boat with not a penny to his name. You ungrateful little pickney.’ 

‘Oh god, give it a rest mother,’ the young Raeni hissed. ‘Why do you have to nag me all day and night? I’m going to my room.’

‘What about your dinner? I’m making rice and peas.’

‘I don’t want any of your crap food. I’ll get something when I’m out.’ And Raeni stormed out of the kitchen and slammed the door, leaving Raeni’s mother in tears. 

The older Raeni looked on in horror. ‘God, I was such a bitch back then. I’m so sorry mamma. I’m so sorry for putting you through all of that. For leaving home and not telling you where I’d gone all those months. For hating you and bringing the police to your door, and the drugs and everything. I’m so so sorry mamma. I don’t know what was wrong with me. I was so messed up back then.’

Raeni broke down into uncontrollable sobs on the sofa. Later, when she’d composed herself, she went back to the screen and scrolled through the menu list.

‘Long arm of the law. Nope, don’t need to watch myself getting nicked,’ she mumbled as she scrolled past that icon. ‘My drugs hell. Nope. Been there, done that. My teenage baby shame. No thank you. Promising career cut short. Seriously? Is this all there is? Just endless clips of me being a loser? What about all the good bits? What about where I’m being nice? Where I went back to mamma’s and begged forgiveness? What about when I made up with her? When I looked after her when she was sick? What about when I bailed my mates out and stood by them? What about all of that? Sack this. I’m not putting up with this crap.’ Raeni hurled the remote at the screen in rage. She flung herself on the sofa and cried to herself in the lovely plump cushions. 

Eventually, her anger settled and she began to notice things about the room. Like, why were there no windows? Why didn’t the door open? Where was the bedroom, and more importantly, where was the loo? Was this room all there was? If so, that meant the TV, and those damn film clips were a kind of test, and that passing the test was the only way to get out of the room and into the real heaven. Yes, that was it. This was that place grandpa used to talk about – purgatory, where you had to wait it out and get your soul cleansed before you could enter heaven. The film clips were God’s way of getting me to face up to all the bad things I’ve done in life. 

A long while later she picked up the remote and returned to the screen. She pressed play and determined herself to watch the film clips. She sat through hours of memories, hours and hours of mistakes she’d made, poor decisions and bad choices. To be fair though, there were also lots of good ones too. She was proud of how she’d cleaned up her act, found a decent job and made a good life for herself. It took guts, courage and determination. Yep, she was proud of that. She hadn’t been born with privilege. Her father had left before she was born, and there were just her and her Mum, trying to make do with nothing. She remembered the time they only had a tin of beans to share for tea, and they had no electric, so they just hunkered down under a quilt together and told each other ghost stories. That was a beautiful memory.

Was it any wonder she’d gotten lost in life though? Drugs were easy. They were everywhere around her and once tried, they gave her a glimpse of what bliss felt like, what freedom from pain was. They weren’t real ecstasy of course, they were just fake insights. Euphoric moments, that they were so good you wanted more and more of them. But then suddenly the drugs didn’t work like they used to, she got addicted and it all went wrong. That guy saved her. That copper. The one who was firm with her but supportive. The one who cared enough to keep coming back time and time again to check on her. Bring her food. But Christ, she couldn’t for the life of her remember his name. Malcolm. Michael. No, Maurice. Aww man, his name had gone. ‘Isn’t that terrible of me?’ she thought. Yeah, maybe that’s why she was here in purgatory. Because she didn’t even know the name of the man who showed up for her. 

Memories of her mamma were like that too. She could remember all the good things she’d had with her, but she only had vague recollections about the all the pain she’d caused her. Why were her memories so fragmented like this? Seeing them on the screen objectified them and made them more raw and brutal; devoid of the soft emotions her brain cleverly wrapped around them to make them more palatable. 

Yeah, I was a bitch, but I was going through some heavy stuff.

Yeah, I stole that guy’s money, but he was being a dick. 

Yeah, I walked out on mamma when she was sick, but I was sick too. Just mine was an addiction. 

On and on in it went, imaginary hour after imaginary hour, imaginary day after imaginary day, imaginary week after imaginary week, imaginary year after imaginary year. Analysing memories, juxtaposing perspectives, reinterpreting events. Where did Raeni go wrong? Was I a bad person? Will mamma forgive me?

She screamed at the TV.

‘I’m sorry mamma!’ 

‘I’m sorry grandpa!’

‘I’m sorry to my mates for not being a good friend.’

‘I’m sorry to all the guys I messed around.’

‘I’m sorry to Jesus.’

‘I’m sorry to the Virgin Mary.’

‘I’m sorry to God.’

‘I’m a sinner.’

‘I repent.’

‘Forgive me.’

‘Please God forgive me.’

And still the films played. Still she was a prisoner in the room. Still there was no release. Still there was no escape. Still there was no forgiveness. 

—————

‘Do you think she’ll figure it out Dad? I’m getting so worried for her.’

‘I’ve every faith Winnie. She’s a clever girl. We have to be patient. Trust His plan for her.’

‘I can’t wait to be reunited with my little girl.’

‘Me too. I can’t wait to give her a big hug from gramps.’

‘This new Movie Night format is harder than it used to be. When I did it, it was the Great Library.’

‘Yeah me too. I think books help you focus more. My mate Larry had to do a maze when he did it. He spent nearly a thousand Earth years in that place.’

‘Wow, that’s tough. This time dilation plays with your head though doesn’t it?’

‘Yeah, sure does. For us watching him it passed in days.’

‘Just focus baby girl. You can do it. You just got to understand that the film clips are meaningless. All your guilt, all your pain, all your suffering. None of it is real. Strip away all those layers of life: the laughter, the regret, the hope, the fears, the doubt, the joy, and you’ll find the true Raeni within. Let go of all that struggle girl. You made mistakes, so what? We all do. Just accept them for what they are. Life lessons. You did some good. Great. It made you feel good for a while. All of it is life. And all of life just comes down to thoughts in your head. Life is just a river of thoughts, and the true Raeni has to sit on the bank and watch them all float past. That’s what you’ve got to learn my love. Let the movie clips disappear. Let them all go. They aren’t real. When you do that, you’ll find your true self within. You’ll find awareness. I’m willing you to do it Raeni.’

‘It’s not easy to do it Winnie. Even when you know.’

‘My Raeni can do it. I know she can. She’s a good girl.’

“Do you think she’ll realise she isn’t actually dead?’

‘Dunno. That’s a hard one. Most people wouldn’t know the difference. They end up spending an eternity in this prison and they can’t tell.’

‘Yeah well, let’s hope our Raeni isn’t one ’em.’

‘The secret was in that little girl clip my love. Find the little girl inside yourself and you’ll be there.’ 

‘Can we send her a clue?’

‘I already did Dad. That’s what the play mates clip was all about. In the real film she was the one who pushed the little girl over and stole her Dolly.’

‘Oh. This is going to be a long night.’