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I shook my head. “You have to have this for your reports. I have to have this for my sanity. Open the door.”
He hesitated, and for a moment I thought he was going to refuse. I thought I was going to have to push my way past him and bust through the door myself. I would be careful—Doc was getting older and I didn’t want to hurt him. But not even he would stand in my way. The sinking feeling I’d had in my stomach for the past two days was swiftly turning into a black hole, and I had to stop it or let it consume me completely. I didn’t know which option was safer. I wasn’t sure if it mattered.
Doc closed his eyes and his lips moved as he muttered to himself, and it took me a minute to realize what he was doing. Out of all the things he could have done, the fact that he seemed to be praying was the most unexpected. I felt sick at my anger, but it did nothing to quell it. I let him have his moment, let him say whatever he wanted to whomever he was saying it to. The buzzing of the lights grew louder, like a hive of angry wasps.
Doc finished his prayer and opened his eyes again. There was still doubt there, but it was resigned. He knew I would not back away from this. Not now. He didn’t even ask me if I was sure again. I almost wished he had.
He turned to the windowless green door that had started to take on a menacing shape. Maybe they were telling the truth, I thought nervously, starting to fall into the black hole. Maybe this is real life. Maybe I’m not asleep.
He opened the door and stuck his head in. I heard the murmur of conversation. I couldn’t make out the words. There were protestations from the unseen Eric, but the tone in Doc’s voice silenced him. I heard footsteps, and then a young man who seemed oddly colorless came through the door, pushing past the Doc. He moved with an economic grace, no step wasted, almost like he was floating. Eric wouldn’t meet my eyes as he flitted by me and out the other door, shutting it behind him.
“It’s cold in here,” the doc told me kindly. “I have a jacket if you think you’ll need it.”
“Why is it cold?” I asked, suddenly unsure.
“To… preserve the body.”
“Like a freezer?”
“Yes.”
That didn’t sit right with me, the thought that my father could be cold. What if he didn’t want to be cold? What if he wanted to be warm? It wasn’t fair. If he couldn’t be warm, then I wouldn’t either. “I don’t want a coat,” I said roughly.
“Okay, Benji. Okay. Do you want me to be in there with you?”
I thought I did. I thought I wouldn’t want to be alone, even more so than I already felt. The black hole was opening wider and I was starting to collapse in on myself. I didn’t want to be alone. But I heard myself say, “No. I’ll go by myself.”
He nodded, as if he’d expected this. “Then
you need to understand something, Benji. I need you to listen and listen good. Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“That may be your father in there. But it’s not really. It may look like him, but it’s not him, okay? Your father is in a better place, a warmer place, a happier place, so whatever you see in there is not who he is anymore.” His voice started to waver. “You should pull the sheet from his head, and take just a moment to be sure. You might want to stay longer, but I am begging you not to. I don’t think I could stand it. Just take a peek and then come out, and I’ll help you remember who he was. I’ll help you remember everything he was to you. He’s not what’s lying in there. That body is not all he was. Do you understand?”
That’s what they say to prepare you, I thought. That’s what they say when it’s going to be bad. It’s going to be bad.
“Yes,” I said.
“I wish you’d change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
Unbelievably, he smiled as he shook his head. “Stubborn. Just like him.” And then he held open the door.
A wave of cold air washed over me, carrying with it a sharp medicinal smell, like antiseptic. My arms prickled, the thin long-sleeved shirt I wore doing nothing to keep the cool air out. I felt dizzy when I inhaled, but I swept away the vertigo, forcing my vision to clear, forcing myself to take the next steps until I was through the doorway into what was essentially a freezer.
“Close the door,” I said, trying to keep my teeth from chattering.
For once, Doc did not argue and did as I asked.
I turned away from the door. In the center of the room stood a metal table. On this table was a great white sheet. And under this great white sheet was the form of a man. I could see the points of the feet, facing away from each other at a slight angle. Following the sheet I could see the gentle press of a stomach. Further, a slight peak of the nose.
I tried to breathe through my mouth because the cold air in the room was becoming harder to take, the medicinal smell like waves crashing over me again and again and again. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Get it done! I cried to myself. Get it done and get out!
I took a step.
I ignored the way the lights above began to flicker.
