It wasn’t his best grin. I could tell he wasn’t feeling his best. Still, it was something, and I needed something. “You have?” When I thought I couldn’t possibly love him more … there I was, loving him more. “How did I not know this about you?”
He lifted a single shoulder. “It stops sounding cool once you’re an adult.”
“What did the voice reply?”
“It asked why? I said I wanted to save lives.”
“You’re my superhero. And you’re definitely Lila’s.”
“Maybe.” He frowned. “But it comes with a price.”
“Your heart issues?”
“Not exactly. More like extreme empathy. The voice restored my heartbeat, but only after I agreed.”
“Agreed to what?”
“It’s hard to explain. Not necessarily a proverb, more like an unspoken law of nature. Honestly, it feels more like a curse. I was twelve. The words meant nothing. The choice to live meant everything. So I agreed.”
“Do you remember it? The proverb or curse?”
“Yeah. It said, ‘Hinder not the soul’s intended path unto the light, lest shards of darkness shed upon thee.’”
The kitchen faucet dripped. I hadn’t noticed it before. A lot of sounds came to life between Ronin’s proverb and my inability to respond. The tarp covering the woodpile whipped in the wind, clapping against the side of the house.
Creaks from the logs bending like the joints of a ninety-year-old.
The howl of the wind carrying smoke out of the chimney.
“You think I’m crazy?”
That wasn’t the word. Not crazy. We’d spent five years together. I’d seen his crazy, and he had seen mine.
“No. Science doesn’t know a lot about near-death experiences. And when they think they have an explanation for one near-death experience, there are ten other cases defying that explanation. Clearly, it’s not something that can easily be studied. It’s frowned upon to purposely take a human to the edge of death, push them over, and then try to resuscitate them to test their out-of-body perception.” When all else failed, I wore my geek hat and droned on like the world’s most boring professor.
“That didn’t answer my question.” Ronin frowned.
“I did answer it. No. I don’t think you’re crazy. I just don’t understand what this means.” I closed my eyes, rubbing them with my fingers while forcing a breath through my nose.
“It means I’m not supposed to bring the dead back to life.”
I paused my fidgeting, letting my hands slide down my face. “You know this for a fact?”
“It’s what I’ve been told. And it’s been my experience.”
“Told by whom? And what experience?”
“Look!” Franz ran out of his room, holding up two colorings. “Shh …” I held my finger to my mouth, but it was too late. Anya’s fussy cries filled the air.
“Let me see those, big guy.” Ronin held out his hand.
I stood, backing up a slow step at a time, focusing on everything about my husband—his forced smile, his strained voice, his pale face, and his drowsy eyes. Before I could say another word or make eye contact with him, Anya let out a louder cry. After that, everything fell into an unstoppable chain of events.
Anya.
Poopy diaper.
Franz needing a snack.
Graham calling to give us an update.
My parents arriving.
Ronin’s parents arriving.
He left me with a mind-blowing confession, a revelation too unreal to sort out and make sense of it. I had so many questions, but life took center stage, allowing us no time for more answers.
On autopilot, I tossed together ingredients for a pot of chili, threw in a load of laundry, and absentmindedly nodded when someone spoke to me. Yes, I knew Lila was doing better, but at the same time, she was in more pain because they were weaning her off the stronger pain medications. Everything my mom and dad shared from hours earlier at the hospital, I already knew because Graham texted me several times an hour.
I watched Ronin, slumped into the corner of the sofa, pretending to engage with the kids while my dad rubbed his hands together over the wood stove, sharing his thoughts on the Denver Nuggets with … I wasn’t sure. Victor had drifted off to sleep in one of the recliners, probably not a fan of the Nuggets or basketball in general. Sometimes Ronin and I would make eye contact. He knew I saw his pain. I knew he saw all the unanswered questions running rampant in my head.
“Would you like me to get Franz ready for bed?” Ling asked as I put away the last dinner dish and tossed the towel on the countertop.
It took me a few seconds to respond. Everything felt heavy: my limbs, my eyelids, and my thoughts—sluggish and unfocused. I needed sleep. But yes, my kids needed to get to sleep as well.
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
“Franz, show me your favorite jammies,” Ling said with Franz’s level of enthusiasm.
Before he could scramble to his feet to follow Ling, Anya cried from her bedroom.