Page 12 of The Next Person You Meet in Heaven
The next morning, her father moves out. He slams the door as he goes. Annie knows why he’s leaving. Because she wanted that Creamsicle. That’s why he’s going away.
The Arrival
Blue. Everything was blue. A single shade, enveloping Annie as if she’d been painted into it. She felt extremely light and strangely curious.
Where am I?
What happened?
Where is Paulo?
She could not see any part of herself. The blue was like a blanket covering all but her eyes. Suddenly, a large seat appeared in front of her, floating about chest-high, with a tan leather cushion and a silver rail across the top. It looked like something from a plane or a bus.
Annie instinctively went to touch it—and was shocked to see her right hand floating in front of her, unattached to anything else. No wrist. No forearm. No elbow. Noshoulder. She realized the blue wasn’t covering her body. Shehadno body. No middle or bottom. No stomach, thighs, or feet.
What is this?
Where is the rest of me?
What am I doing here?
Then, the blue around her wiped away, like soapy water rinsed from a glass, and there were snowcapped mountains to her left and urban skyscrapers to her right. Everything was zooming by, as if she were speeding while standing still. She looked down and saw tracks passing beneath her. She heard the wail of an unmistakable sound.
A train whistle.
She let go of the seat. It vanished. A second seat appeared, farther ahead. She gripped that one and it vanished, too, a new one materializing, guiding her forward. Finally, she reached a compartment door with an ornate bronze handle. She pulled it down.
With that, she went from outside to inside. An engine car sketched around her, as if being drawn by an artist’s pen. The ceiling was low, the floor was riveted metal, and there were panels and gauges and levers everywhere. It looked like a train from the 1950s.
What kind of dream is this?
Why do I feel so light?
Where is everybody?
Something caught her eye. Up there. In the conductor’s seat. A small head bounced into view, then was gone.
“Yes!” a young voice yelled. “Yes!”
Had this been a normal dream, Annie might have run, scared of a stranger the way we are often scared while sleeping. But danger has no grip in the afterlife, and Annie continued drifting forward until she was alongside the driver’s seat. She looked down and saw something quite unexpected.
There, behind the steering console, was a young boy with caramel skin and jet-black hair, wearing a striped, short-sleeve shirt and a toy gun holster.
“Am I going too fast?” he asked.
Annie Makes a Mistake
She is six years old, walking home from school. She is accompanied, as usual, by three older kids: Warren Helms, who is eleven; his sister, Devon, who is nine; and his other sister, Lisa, who just turned eight.
“It’s called Holy Communion,” Lisa says.
“What do you do?” Annie asks.
“You go to church, you say you’re sorry, and you eat a cookie.”
“A wafer,” Warren says.
“Then you get presents.”
