ℬᎾℳᎯ

MY EYES open to sunlight; too bright, too hot. Everything looks upside down and I can't understand where my head and feet are. Around me, solid ground; sand.

The beach? Daniel?

Flicking my toes to remove the crumbly grains of sand in between them, I remember how I felt like someone plunged a spear through my ribs and squeezed my lungs dry. I had also been trying to call Ivan.

I hear footsteps behind me. "Hey, again."

I turn around and as expected. He's right there, jerrycoils dancing in the breeze, with an honest smile dancing on his lips. It's so honest it's impossible not to return them.

"I'm not dead, right?" I ask, he shrugs. "Great. So this shouldn't take a lot of time then?"

"Well," he chuckles quietly. "What if I told you that it was time now?"

"Time for what?"

"You're smarter than that question, Boma." He says. I move away from him towards the water. Different from last time, it's sunrise not sunset, with white seagulls perched on the blue water .

"What are you Daniel? Angel or something else?"

He laughs, not obliging me an answer.

"How do I end up here talking to you"—my reflection in the rippling water distracts me, I see my hair swaying, I see my eyes staring, but unlike I know, I feel like nothing belongs to me—"You're dead Daniel, and I'm not. Is this heaven? Or is–"

"I don't have all the answers," he cuts me off.

I feel my brows knit and my lips squeeze. "I'm not dead. Fine. Do your magic trick so I can go back to being alive. Thanks."

"Boma–"

"I'm still waiting. Snap your fingers or something."

"You're getting upset–"

"No! I'm not 'getting' upset. I am upset! Stop playing stupid games with me!"

“Games,” he murmurs underneath his breath, slowly turning his head away from me.

I clutch my fingers and move my feet around; the prickly sand seems to piss me off even more.

Maybe this is all in my head.

“Daniel.”

“Yes?” he asks. I haul my feet through the sand, walking up to him until I’m close enough to see the crystals on his skin. For a small moment I’m caught in awe, just looking and wondering what he is.

“Are you real or is this some sort of apparition?”

“Do I look fake?” he says. I detect the mockery in his voice and it takes nothing for my palm to land on his face. It feels soft, but also a bit hard, and chilly, like ice.

“Ouch?” he says.

“Don’t ‘ouch’ me! I'm freaking out here and you're not helping!" My heart starts to pound like the time I went under the bathtub in Zanzibar. The air going into my nose becomes cold and tears start to spill.

"Boma–"

"You’re supposed to be dead Daniel!”

"Boma," he reaches out his hand for me to hold but I take small steps away from him.

“Where are you going to?” he asks.

“Do the thing you did last time, snap your fingers or something and let me go!” Deep down, I can feel rage, boiling hot rage.

He starts laughing, the same way he’d laugh when he was alive and wanted to make me feel stupid. It’s working, I feel very stupid.

“If I’m dead, why don’t you just tell me?”

“You’re not dead, but–”

“But what?”

“It’s almost time, Boma.”

I shake my head. This is pointless. “I’m just going to go,” I turn away from the ocean towards the dense jungle behind us. “There must be some sort of door, I’m going to find it, just stay the hell away from me.”

“Boma,” he pulls my hand.

I yank it out of his grip. “WHAT!”

“Calm down.”

“Why?” I push him away from me. “My life isn’t as dead as yours, I’m alive, someone actually loves me, I’m travelling the world, I’m living! Finally! So, don’t tell me it’s almost time, just don’t.” I shake the tears off my face. For a change, he’s not smiling that stupid smile.

“What changed? The last time I saw you, you hoped you were dead.”

“You said I should shoot, didn’t you?” I ask him.

“So, you did?”

“I did, and before you get all wise on me, I’m not done burning.” I say. His laughter throws me off guard.

“I could be a bit jealous you know, but I can’t exactly feel jealousy.” He says.

I stop heaving, “what are you talking about?”

“Do you know why I’m always here, at this same place, wearing this same silly white frock?” he asks. I shrug, having only a little interest in whatever it is he wants to explain. “It’s because you haven’t let me go since I died.”

I blink as my forehead rumples. What? Let go? How?

“Y-you were m-my best friend and you died, was I supposed to clap and dance?”

“No, but somehow you have never moved on and neither have I.”

“So..." I chuckle, "You’re saying, I trapped you in my head, and every time I near death, my brain copes by making you pop up in this imaginary world and then you talk me back into fighting for life and poof! You melt and I wake up?”

He laughs at me. “Well, that’s kind of the truth, but not as silly as you made it sound.”

“Alright, tell me, what does it feel like to be in my head?”

“You’re crazy,” he smiles, “crazier than I thought, and that dude. . .”

“His name is Ivan. If you’re in my head you should know that.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugs then points at the sunrise. I follow his fingers to a spot in the middle of the blazing yellow star, where a hollow white spot rests. I watch how the seagulls begin to caw and one after another, fly into it.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“I’m not sure, but it’s almost time.”

“Stop saying that, Danny.”

He pulls me into his chest and wraps his hand around me, he has no smell or anything. “I’m sorry.” He says.

“Why can’t you be an angel and ask God to do a miracle or something?”

He pulls his chest away from my face and I look up to find the purest smile in the world. Before he makes me start crying again, I bury my head back into his chest.

“Maybe I will, maybe he’ll listen, or maybe it’s just your time.” He says, “whichever way, you don’t need me anymore. Just burn as much as you can and who knows, you could get a soft landing or maybe a messy supernova, it could be today, tomorrow, or even three months away. . .”

The wind swishes, a colder breeze rubs against my skin and the goosebumps unveil themselves. I open my eyes to find the blue water receding so I brace myself for the oncoming darkness.

“Daniel,” I whisper and grab onto his frock tighter.

He unlocks my hands from behind him and looks at me. "Boma, don't fight life, and don't fight death." His eyes are glossy and I’m wondering if what he is, is allowed to cry.

As he begins to walk away, the breeze becomes colder. The whisper, louder. The jungle seems to roar fearfully and the skies darken as the sun fades. I start to cry, not knowing what else to do.

“Sometimes, the little things make all the difference.” He says. I close my eyes with my palm to still my fear and when I open, the jungle has disappeared. It’s just me standing in the sand, and the white frock flaying in the distance.

“I’ll see you soon Danny!” I call out.

“I’m not in your head anymore.” He says just as he vanishes.

I sink into the sand and I’m upside down again.