1

           Life is life, his big brother once told him decades ago when he was falling apart. Since then only time has changed for him, as he falls apart every single day quicker than the day before. A ninety one year old Salinger Wisely sat at the edge of his bed. He was tired. Not the sleeping type but the living kind. His life was coming close to the end and he could feel it. Today he could no longer sleep. He sat at the edge of his bed in the dark listening to the waves crash outside. He stood up and opened the sliding door. The sun crept in and illuminated the room. He stepped onto the balcony. He lived in his beach house alone. These days all he wanted was to be alone. He did not desire this because he hated everyone. He wanted this because being around people he loved in this shape was too much for him. As a famous author he made enough money to make sure the people he loved were taken care of and that is what mattered most to him. It has been almost two years since he has seen anyone. He knew it had to be done. He was tired of going to bed in unwavering pain. It never ended. It is not like the pain has went away, but it has come down significantly from the high places it used to run around on. Now he is alone and dying.

“Can you make me some coffee, Karen?”

            Karen had just walked into the room. “Of course, sir.” Moments later she walked out onto the balcony and handed him a cup of coffee. “How did you sleep?” She knew the answer to this. It never stopped her from asking though. Karen believed that if she made him feel normal he might eventually be okay. She has been his two year champion, but she hasn’t won anything.

“I didn’t. I spend more time trying to sleep than I do sleeping. It also felt as though someone else was in my bed and I lacked the space for movement.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Should I find alternative methods?”

“No, I’ll stick to counting sheep. They are adorable and don’t kill me faster.”

            Salinger sat on the seat bheind him and motioned for Karen to sit. She sat next to him and crossed her legs.

“Did my mother call?”

“No, sir. Your mother passed away 17 years ago.”

            Salinger took a long chug of his coffee. He hadn’t always loved coffee, but once he acquired the taste he never looked back. He had a habit of never looking back. It was difficult for him to understand if that was a good habit or not. He lowered his cup, “I suppose she did, didn’t she?” The waves hit loudly and intercepted their conversation for a moment.

“Should I send for flowers for her gravestone?”

He placed his left hand on her hands that were crossed on her legs.

“No, that won’t be necessary, darling. The dead have no use for flowers.”

            He returned his hand to his coffee mug. “I should have sent them when she was alive. Remember, Karen, send them when they’re living.”

“I will, sir.”

“Roses. Go with roses.”

            Karen nodded. They sat there watching the ocean together. Salinger never had kids. He always wanted to, but he never did fall in love. Despite his longing for fatherhood, he never did want to do it alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe people were capable of that, he just figured he was too fucked up to raise kids properly on his own. So in the end all he had was the few blood relatives he spoke to such as his sisters, his best friends, and the kids he found in his youth he would later call his little brothers. He always had what he wanted. He just did not know how to hold onto it all. And now that he was approaching the end he felt even more alone than ever. He felt eighteen again.

“My depression is in the silence. It’s a deafening one. I can’t hear anything other than it.”

            Salinger was depressed. He had always been ever since he could remember. For most of his life he had always been told to appreciate what he had, remain positive and change his outlook or that things would get better. The part that always drove him mad was that he always appreciated what he had, he was always positive and alive, and things did get better. The problem was depression, the real one, is not the type of beast that can be tamed that way. He found that those that know the least about happiness are the ones that believe it is like a switch most people fumble in the dark to find. Once you click it you are happy. That was never human to him. Happiness was a fleeting thing and he had it more times in his life than he could count. It was something that came and went and that you were not in control of. You could focus on the good, but that did not mean you were happy. A lens change can change the scenery, but it can’t change the weight you carry on your heart. That type of happiness isn’t the kind Salinger wanted. It always felt faked and forced like it would turn your skin green. What he wanted was real.

            “It just rings forever. It’s haunting.”

            He turned and looked at her. “I just do my best to play some music above it. A little music never hurt.” They both laughed. “Did I ever tell you about that girl I met when I was young? That one beauty from Coachella?” She shook her head.

“It’s not a fascinating story. I never saw her again. I wish I had.”

She smiled toward the old man. “What would you have asked her?” He set his drink down.

“What’s your favorite song by that band we went there to go see? Such a simple question. Your favorite song says a lot about you, you know?”

“That’s beautiful.”

“No, but she was.”

She sneezed. “Bless you.” She gathered herself back up and finally asked, “Do you miss them?”

“Every day. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about those kids.”

“Why don’t you call them?”

“They have their own lives. No one has time for a crazy old man like me. Besides, I don’t even remember their names.”

“I do.”

He turned to her quickly and raised his hand. “Don’t you dare tell me!” He stood up and looked off the balcony. “Every day I wake up to the same thing. It’s a process of loss and grief and then forgetting everything by the time the moon covers us. I wake up with a deep loss in my chest and then I forget them and everything that happened. If I put a name to them again it will only be worse. Don’t you dare do that to me! I can’t think of anything crueler.”

“Do you regret all this?”

“Oh but of course. I've never been one terribly opposed to regret. On the contrary, I regret much of what I've done in life, and what I've allowed people to do to me. I discovered it makes me human."

“So you’d do it all again if you could?”

“All those wasted hours. If it were possible to do it again, I’d waste them just the same.”

“Were you happy?”

“Heavy hearts have great trouble with happiness. More so the longer it lingers.”

“How wise of you. Truly though, Salinger, were you happy?”

“Yes. I believe I was before I began to lose everything.”

She wiped a tear from his eye.

“And why did you lose everything?”

He wiped his own eyes this time.

“Because I thought about myself too much.”

Karen stood up. “I am happy to hear you regret much of what you’ve done.” He looked at her confused. “That makes what I am about to tell you much easier.” She opened the sliding door.

“What do you mean, Karen?”

“Remember when you said last night you felt as though another person was in your bed?”

He nodded.

“Someone was.”

“I’m afraid I’m confused?”

She turned on the lights to the room. “Take a look, Mr. Wisely.” He walked slowly toward the bed. He could now see a body was under the covers. He turned the body over. It was his. And like a mirror he saw himself in it.

“This can’t be. I’m dead?”

She put her hand on his shoulder. “For the time being. You died of a heart failure last night. You lived alone and you died alone. Just like you wanted.” He felt empty. He couldn’t even find it in him to cry.

“What do you mean by for the time being?”

“You’re a Buddhist, Salinger. You shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I was never really that great of one, to be honest.”

“Nonetheless, it’s kind of like that. You’re getting another chance.”

“Another chance? To do what?”

“To live. Open the door. It’s time to go.”

“This is happening way too fast.”

“Life’s too short, and the afterlife is shorter. It’s time to go.”

He opened the door and could not believe what he was seeing. The door led to the sky above an ocean. “You want me to jump?”

“I want you to swim and then survive.”

“What makes you think I want to do this all over again?”

She laughed and stood next to him.

“Everyone does, Salinger. Every single person does.”

She pointed down toward the water.

“Now jump.”

He took a big gulp. He was dead. What was he so afraid of?

“Will I ever see you again?”

She kissed him on the cheek.

“You and I have a long future together. Be brave, Salinger.”

He did not know what it meant but it was the most romantic thing he had ever heard. He looked down at the water and prepared to jump.

“You know what they say, right?”

She looked confused.

“L’herbe est toujours plu verte chez le voisin.”

He jumped into the unknown ocean. He twisted and turned in the water until he was able to gain control of himself and swim to the surface. He looked up and his portal was gone. Karen was gone. More importantly, he was gone. The old life he led was no more. It began to rain. “That’s interesting.” He realized there were no clouds in the sky. As he began to turn around he realized it was a giant wave that caused the rain. He was swept under it. He reached the shore and poured out salt water from his mouth, nose, and ears. He was alive. At least he thought he was. Before he could stand up he heard a growl.

“Oh dear.”

            He looked up to see two creatures that resembled giant deformed wolves. There were five of them. Salinger could not move. He didn’t have time to figure out if it was just his old body that was worn down by the ocean or if it was fear. No matter what it was, he was about to die. Again.

“Fuck.”

            Suddenly one of the monsters was hit by an arrow and fell to its side. Three figures appeared from over the hill. Before Salinger closed his eyes he saw one with an bow firing arrows, another with a sword stabbing a monster, and another ripping the head off of another. He could not believe his eyes, so he closed them.

“Did you get the stray?” One of the strangers asked the other. They sounded like youth. At least that is what he remembered young people sounded like.

“I got him.”

He heard their footsteps. They were right above him.

“Who are you? Be careful with that answer. You saw us kill ferrocs, and you’re just a fleshy.”       

            This was the third voice to speak. Salinger did not respond.

“Should we kill him?”

“No. Let’s bring him back to mother.”

“I have money if that’s what you want!” This was all he found the courage to say. They burst into laughter. “We don’t need money. Don’t mean much under the double sun.” He was confused. He looked up and saw above the figure were two giant stars. The double sun.

“Look at me, flesh.”

Two of the figures helped him up. Salinger was dizzy from the sudden movement.

“Now who are you?”

And then Salinger saw the face of the stranger. He wasn’t even a man, but a young one. He had the face of a ghost. One he used to know. One he could never forget.

“You. It’s you.”

He turned to see the other strangers and suddenly his heart was racing again. The three of them had faces that belonged to his memory. Ones he hasn’t seen in over seventy years. Three young boys stood before him, two Mexican and one Asian.

“Your beautiful faces.” He reached out to touch the familiar stranger’s face. The boy pushed his hand down.

“You okay, man?”.

“Is that you? After all these years.”

He could not remember that names that belong to the faces.

“I’m afraid you got the wrong guys. We’ve never seen you before.”

“My name is Salinger Wisely. If you’d let me explain.”

Suddenly he was on the floor in the water again.

“You cannot be Salinger!”

A sword touched his throat. Salinger looked at the water and again was overwhelmed by his visual perceptions. He no longer was the old man he was. He was young again. He was a strong young man. “I am.”

He slowly stood up to face all three of them.

“I never thought I’d see your faces again. I’ve missed them more than my own.”

“Should we kill him? He may be an imposter.”

“Or he’s telling the truth.”

“Either way, we take him to mother.”

The one in the middle stuck out his hand.

“I don’t know if you’re an enemy yet, but I have a strong feeling that I should trust you.”

“You always did.”

“I’m Ansel. This is Dorian and Pope.”

The other two waved.

“Welcome to The Sprawl, Salinger. Try not to get yourself killed.”