Purgatory

Summary: An eighteen-year-old girl dies and finds out that the afterlife is not at all what she has heard.
Rating: PG for thematic elements involving death and spirituality

When I was eighteen, I died.

I don't remember how I died. You never do.

One day, I just woke up in an unfamiliar room. It had white walls, white floors, a white twin bed with an old white lace duvet, and no windows. The flourescent lights were bright and nearly blinding when  they reflected off all the white.

The only speck of color was the flaming red hair of the woman sitting at the foot of my bed, reading a book.

I didn't know where I was. I didn't know who she was. I just knew that she looked somewhat familiar, and I felt a little lightheaded.

"Who are you?" I asked, pulling my knees up to my chest under the duvet.

She put the book down, pulled her glasses off, and smiled warmly. She really was quite beautiful, with stunning blue eyes that looked heartbreakingly familiar. "I'm Kay," she said simply.

I blinked at her. "Kay who?"

"Kay Harrison."

"That was my boyfriend's mom's name before she died. In fact, you look like my boyfriend."
"I should look like Miles. I'm his mother."

I let this information sink in. "But you're dead."

"Yes, that's what they told me thirteen years ago."

"So I'm dead?"

"It appears you are."

It was the strangest thing anyone had ever told me. But I had always handled crises well, so I shrugged. "Peter Pan always said dying would be an awfully big adventure. I can't remember it. I want a refund."

"J.M Barrie didn't know anything about death. Death is the second most overrated experience in life."

"What's the first?"

"2001: A Space Odyssey. You're too young to remember that one."

"I see."

She suddenly grew much more somber. "You died in a car accident."

Instantly I felt the blood drain from my face...or whatever, since apparently when you're dead, your heart doesn't beat. "Was Milo with me?"

"No, darling, you were on your way home from my—Miles’—house.  Drunk driver ran a red light and squashed your little VW Bug."

"Ah. I bet Dad is pissed. I begged him for months for that car."

"I wouldn't know. I can't see your dad. However, I'm sure he is much more upset over losing you than that car."

"True. Hey, Kay?"

"Yes, love?"

"I feel like I'm having a completely inappropriate reaction to finding out I'm dead. Shouldn't I be flailing and hyperventilating and screaming about how Kurt Cobain is nowhere to be found in the afterlife? I mean, I’ve always looked forward to meeting him on the day I died."

"No. I've never seen anyone do that."

"Oh. Some other musician? Hendrix, perhaps?"

"No. We've had a few Nirvana fans up here. And some Hendrix fans."

"It may not be such a bad place, then. So if we don't freak out about dying, then I guess we must grow stronger when we die."

"Not exactly. We're still weak, insignificant humans."

I paused, trying to figure this one out. "I feel like I'm missing something. Is this Heaven or Hell? Because whichever it is, I feel perfectly impassive toward it."

"That's normal. And it's neither. You're in Purgatory."

"Wait. Purgatory? I'm not good enough to get into Heaven yet? What did I do in my life that made me a sinner?"

"Nothing really bad. Purgatory is not at all what you've heard, baby. You can't get into Heaven yet because you left your Heaven on Earth."

Again, I stared at her. "What?"

A fond smile slipped onto her face. "My son. He's the only Heaven you'll ever be totally happy with. Same for me. So, you and I are waiting for him to join us."

My mouth suddenly felt dry. "I have to wait until Milo dies before I can make it to Heaven?"

"Yes, darling."

"Well, that will take an awfully long time."

"Why do you say that?"

Milo will never die. He's like Superman."

She giggled, nodding. "So I've noticed."

"Wait, you said you can't see my dad? Can you see Milo?"

"Yes, and I could see you, because you were such a big part of Miles’ heart. You are his Heaven, too. But I can't see anyone else. When you're in Purgatory, you can only focus on your Heaven."

"Why isn't your husband your Heaven?"

"A person's life changes when she has a baby, no matter how long she is in her baby's life."

"I see. So I'll never care about Nirvana again?"

"No, you will. You just won't feel a passion for them again. That's the worst thing about Purgatory. You feel impassive about everything, except for your Heaven. You have a stack of Nirvana CDs in the corner over there."

I looked over at the corner she indicated, and sure enough, there was a pile of CDs, along with a CD player. I gave her a smile, and she leaned in to kiss my forehead. Just like Milo used to do.

"Let me know when you're ready to see Miles," she told me. "We can watch every minute of his life in Filmroom 96."

"Wait, I want to see him now."

"Are you sure? He's very upset. He just found out the love of his life has died."

The thought of him being upset made me feel physically sick--so sick, in fact, that I leaned over the side of the bed and threw up into a basin that had somehow appeared there. Kay held my hair back and rubbed my shoulders while I vomited, obviously taking glee in the fact that she was finally able to mother someone after she had been taken from her baby after only five years with him. This observation made me realize that I would never marry Milo or have children with him, which upset me further.

Minutes later, I finally quit heaving. "I'm sorry about that," she murmured, handing me a wet cloth to wipe my face with. "I forgot to mention that you're not only emotional about your Heaven, but you're extremely emotional. Almost inappropriately emotional."

"Numbness doesn't feel good," I remarked.

"Yes, and no. I miss having appropriate emotions about everything, but having heartbreak over Miles’ dad or something is certainly not missed."

"True. At least I don't have to worry about passing AP Biology anymore."

"True. I noticed you were failing that class."

"I'll bet that my teacher is feeling really guilty about giving me those bad grades right now."

"Yes, probably."

"I want to see Milo."

"Are you sure?" she asked me skeptically. "It will break your heart."

"I'm sure. I miss seeing his face."

"If you insist."

Kay took my hand and pulled me out of bed, leading me out of the room. We walked down an utterly unremarkable hallway, filled with other people who looked just as bored as we were. Kay finally stopped at a door labeled Filmroom 96 and pushed it open.

I stepped in, fascinated. A huge television screen covered the wall.  On the television screen was the love of my life. Milo was crouched in the floor of a hospital, sobbing into his hands.

And suddenly, a rush of emotions hit me like a wrecking ball.

I felt distraught because he was hurting so badly.

I felt euphoric because he loved me so much.

I felt like I was being confined inside my skin.

I felt like I was floating throughout freedom.

I felt nothing but confusion and beauty and horror and nausea and peace and love and hate and confusion.

Kay held my hair back as I threw up again.

"I told you," she said as she led me outside when my stomach was calm. "It's overwhelming."

"I want to go back to my room."

"I thought so."

I spent the rest of the night in my room, listening to the Nirvana CDs. They completely underwhelmed me. They still sounded nice, but I just didn't really care about them. Even my favorite track "Lithium" left me feeling indifferent toward my favorite band.

I fell into a deep sleep.

The next day, I felt an almost magnetic pull toward Filmroom 96. Kay was already there, watching Milo. I noticed that she cried, but she wasn't vomiting or hyperventilating. "You calm down a little bit as time goes on," she explained.

I still couldn't handle it.

One day later, I went back to Filmroom 96 and watched my funeral. The only person I could see in the church was Milo. I could hear the music they played--hymns--and I saw my dead body in the casket. But I couldn't hear my eulogy or the minister's sermon. I just saw Milo cry.

I couldn't go in for a few days after that.

After weeks, I finally got to the point where I could watch Milo for thirty minutes a day before I completely lost it. It was easiest to watch him sleep and sit in class. Watching him sit alone and think about me was impossible.

Kay was glued to the screen. She only left it to check on me and to cry and sleep after she cried.

Finally, though, Milo grew stronger. He graduated high school. He was accepted to his dream school--Yale. Kay and I both had terrifyingly vibrant episodes over this--while we were so happy that his dreams were coming true, we were devastated that we hadn't been there to see it in real life.

After a year, Milo grew happier.

And I grew stronger, too. My emotions toward him had not waned, but I was able to watch him for hours on end.

I watched as he endured his first round of midterms in college.

I watched as he joined an honors society.

I watched as he went home to his father and stepmother for the summer, even though I couldn't see his father and stepmother.

I watched as he saw my parents over the summer. I couldn't see them, but he called them "Mr. and Mrs. Owens" and sincerely said he missed Carrie, so I assumed they were my parents.

I watched as he went back to Yale.

And I watched as he met Delilah.

I couldn't see her, but he seemed to really like her. He was always nervous before they went out on dates--"He used to do that when he first started dating you," Kay informed me.

I was infuriated. This Delilah had taken my love.

I was gleeful. Milo was happy.

I was depressed. I would never be with Milo, until he died.

And I was vomiting again.

I slept for a very long time after that.

I watched as Milo broke up with Delilah three months later.

I didn't sleep for a long time after that, because I was so happy.

Milo didn't seem to be the least bit upset by the breakup, so that was yet another source of ecstasy.

One night I told Kay, "I'm really tired of these bouts of emotions, but I'm also not tired of them."

She said, "I know. We all feel that way."

"Can't I do anything about it?"

"You can quit watching Miles and just sleep all the time."

"That feels like suicide, though."

"I know. Miles is the only source of life and humanity you and I have left."

"It's so sick. No emotion is awful, but too much emotion is horrible."

"Welcome to Purgatory."

"You said that when I arrived here, and once was enough. Is there a god, Kay?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. I never really bought into the 'this happened by random chance' argument."

"Neither did I."

"Purgatory seems to be too well-designed. The Spanish Inquisition has nothing on this torture device. It's torture because it's not torture."

A small smile flitted across her face. "You sound like a Purgatory veteran.  You know it well."

"Do you think there's a god?"

"I imagine so. I was taught in Sunday School that God punishes His children, so that would explain this place. But I was also taught that God loves His children, so that would also explain this place. I mean, we have so little, but Filmroom 96 also gives us so much."

"Yes. I think you're right."

I watched as Milo graduated from Yale with a degree in Chemistry.

I watched as Milo met Eva.

I couldn't see Eva, not even on their wedding day.

That day brought the most pain I had ever felt before. I writhed in bed for days. But I also felt happy, because Milo seemed to be happy.

"Why am I here?" I asked Kay.

"Because your Heaven hasn't arrived--"

"No, I know that. But he's found a new Heaven. He can't come up here and join me."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"Why?"

"Can we cool it with the Nirvana?"

"What?"

"You've been listening to the same Nirvana music for years. Can't we listen to Jimi Hendrix?"

"You're the Hendrix fan?"

"Yes."

"I'm heartbroken and distraught and you're worried about my music?"

"Yes."

"I should punch you."

"But you're not going to."

"No," I mused. "I'm not. Why am I not?"

"Because you feel numb. This does not pertain to Miles, so you really don't care. The Nirvana is not really bothering me, but I still like Hendrix well enough."

"Let me listen to 'Lithium' one more time."

"Okay. I'll go get my CDs."

We listened to Jimi Hendrix for the next few years, especially Kay’s favorite song, "If 6 Were 9."

I watched as Milo's first child was born--a daughter he named Carrie.

Oddly enough, I could see this Carrie.

"Why can I see her?" I asked Kay.

"She's a huge part of his heart. She's his Heaven."

"Wait, so Eva is not?"

"No. That's why I could see you."

"He named his daughter after me. Am I still his Heaven?"

"All signs point to yes."

That day, I discovered that it's possible to feel so much joy that it hurts. It hurts to the point of having a migraine that makes something in your brain fire off into a seizure.

A few days later, I woke up in my bed, under the white lace duvet. Kay was sitting on the foot of my bed, and looked quite relieved to see me wake up.

"Thank God," she sighed, pulling me into a hug. "We were worried."

"Happiness is a warm gun," I replied dryly.

"Yes, it is."

"Is that a Hendrix song?"

"No."

"How is little Carrie?"

"She's well. She's so beautiful."

I sighed. "I know." I paused and listened to the now-familiar Jimi Hendrix tune "Manic Depression." "This sucks."

"Yes."

"I hate this."

"Yes."

"But I love it."

"We've been over this."

"How much longer do I have to endure this?"

"Well, Miles is very young. I would guess that we have decades. And then Miles will have to wait until little Carrie dies...unless he sends us away before then. I sent my own father away because Purgatory is so wonderfully awful. He's in Heaven now, waiting for me. My conscience is much clearer now that I know he's happy, but I'm still not happy."

"Ah." I sighed. "A lifetime is too long."

"Au contraire. Our lifetimes were too short."

"But our lifetimes here are too long."

"I'll agree with that."

"I'm tired of Jimi Hendrix."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Sort of. As tired of him as I can be in Purgatory. Do you think we could find some Mozart?"

"I'm sure."

"Good. I could handle some Mozart right now."