Into This River I Drown

“Are you sure about this?” Doc Heward asked me with a worried look, as if he could hear my father singing off-key in my head.

No. “Yes.”

“Benji, this doesn’t need to happen. I’ve told you I can—”

“Open the door, Doc.”

He watched me for a moment. I don’t know what he saw, but it must have been enough. He heaved a great sigh and opened the door. It squeaked on its hinges, the sound low and grating. I ground my teeth together. It went on forever.

Finally he walked through the door. I followed him down a shorter hallway until we came to a second door. This one had a small window about head height, and was a pale green. The doc paused again and turned to look at me. I almost screamed.

“We’ll go through the door,” he said quietly. “In the upper-right corner, there is a TV. When you are ready, I’ll turn the TV on, and on the screen, you’ll see a video of the room next door. I’ll ask the ME’s assistant to show you a face. You say yes or no and that’ll be it. We’ll be done. You can leave. You can go back to your family and let them hold you. That’s what you will need, and you have to let it happen. Do you understand?”

I was distracted by a low buzzing noise. I looked up. The fluorescent light overhead was flickering. The electrical buzz was soft but steady. I stared at the light as it went out then back on. Out then back on.

“Benji?” Doc said, sharper.

I looked back at him and nodded tightly. The light continued to sputter.

He opened the green door. It made no sound. I was led to a windowless room. It was colder than the hallway, much colder. A small desk was against the far wall, battered and littered with papers and pens. Pencils and a handful of paper clips scattered near the edge. A stapler and a half empty cup of coffee. The swivel chair next to the desk was blue and worn. There was another door on the opposite side of the room. It was closed.

In the right-hand corner above me was a TV. The screen was black, and I could see myself in the reflection, eyes blown out, mouth slack. The light in the room flickered here too. I disappeared on and off the black screen with the flashing light. The doc muttered to himself, something about the wiring in the old building. He said nothing about the charge in the air that I was sure he felt. How could he not?

He turned to me again and opened his mouth, but I stopped him. “Doc,” I growled at him. “If you ask me if I’m sure one more time, I’m going to get angry.”

His shoulders sagged as he exhaled. “I’ve known you since you were born,” he said finally. “I’ve known your father since he was even younger than you are now. I can tell you the ache I have in my chest, but it won’t even compare to what I know you are feeling.” He looked away. “I hurt,” he said. “Because he was my friend, I hurt. But you? Benji, he was your father. I can’t even….” He couldn’t finish.

“Show me,” I said. “Show me.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Eric? The family is ready. Okay. Okay.” He closed the phone and slid it back in his pocket. “Deep breath, okay?”

I nodded.

He reached up to switch on the TV and I thought no, no, no, because it wasn’t real, none of this was real. I thought I felt the brush of a hand on my shoulder, but that was impossible because my back was against the wall. There could be no one there.

But even as I screamed at the doc in my head, I said nothing aloud, because I needed proof. I needed proof in this nightmare. Tangible, verifiable proof that I could see with my own eyes, so I wouldn’t have to hear the words I still considered untrue. It was necessary, I told myself. It was the only way.

Doc touched the button on the front of the TV, and there was an electrical snap. A small shower of sparks fell from the back of the TV to the floor, hissing as they hit the cold concrete. The doc jerked his hand away and stared dumbfounded at the TV. A smell of burning plastic permeated the room. “Goddamn wiring,” he muttered. “Told them a thousand times to get this fixed. Not in the budget, my ass.” His phone rang. “Yeah? No, the TV shorted and damn near shocked me! The what? The camera went out?” He frowned. “That’s not hooked up to any of the wiring, is it? That’s odd. How the hell…. No. Just give me a moment.” He snapped the phone shut and reached up carefully toward the TV again, which had already stopped smoking. He tapped the power button quickly, as if thinking he would still be shocked. Nothing happened. He pressed the button and held it down. Nothing.

“Benji, I’m sorry. I don’t know what the hell happened. Looks like the monitor is dead. This building has had the same wiring since the fifties. I guess there was a surge somewhere.”

And now I would never know if my father was truly gone. This was my only chance to see and it had been taken from me. I would have to take it from the words of others that he was gone, and there would always be that little voice in my head that said ‘what if?’ What if they were all lying? What if this whole thing was one big hoax? Big Eddie wouldn’t leave me. He told me he wouldn’t. He told me he’d be back in the afternoon. He promised.

“Open the door,” I said.

Doc’s eyes widened. “What?”

“The TV won’t work. Your camera doesn’t work. Open the door. I want to see for myself.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think—”

“I’m not asking you to think,” I snarled at him. I immediately felt guilty at the way he recoiled, but it did nothing to stop me. “Open the door, Doc.”

“Your father wouldn’t want this,” he said. “He wouldn’t want this for you.”

My eyes started to burn. “If he’s gone, what does it matter?” I said hoarsely. “What does it matter what he would have wanted?”

“It will always matter,” the doc argued.