Providence

By: Sergio Bravo Jr.

I had been meandering along the shore for days. I wasn't sure how I had gotten there, but I awoke from a dream that had ushered me into a new world, birthed anew, and hopelessly lost. When I awoke, my skin burned. It felt...different. I scratched at it for what I had assumed to be days. Almost instinctively, I knelt down at the riverbank and searched for my reflection. What stared back at me was unrecognizable and off-putting. I yelled for help as I clawed at the clammy, muddy, putrid skin that had attached itself to my face. My eyes were the only part of me that could be clearly distinguished. The mucus-like substance covered everything that was me and had only granted me sight. The day's struggle left me tired and broken. I laid amongst the fallen leaves and sodden trail, one hand outstretched with fingers fed into the river casting ripples, hoping some creature would take notice and slowly eat me alive. Though my eyes were heavy, I noticed a figure in a cloak standing on the water, paddling his way towards me. I wanted to look upon him, but my eyes wouldn't allow for it. I felt his oar poke at my side repetitively. It became irritating enough that with every ounce of strength in my body, I grabbed his oar and tried to shove it away. That reaction forced his cold hand to grasp at mine and he pulled me aboard his raft. The raft was made up of branches tied together with various weeds and some sort of paste that seemed to have derived from organic materials. The river seeped through the cracks and crevices in his raft. At times I felt as though I was going to drown, but the feeling is what caused me to lie on my back, and that is when I caught my first glimpse of the cloaked figure. "Where am I?" I managed to ask, coughing up water from my lungs. The figure stared back at me, "Rest now."

His voice was unlike anything I had ever heard. It was very deep in tone, but comforting and familiar. He stood strong and kept his stature despite rowing against the unevenness of the river. I took deep breaths and decided to make my next few words to him as meaningful as possible, "Thank you...for helping..." I drifted off to sleep again. I thought about her. I thought about the last few things I had said to my love. I thought about how I hurt her, and how she left without ever looking back. All of these trivialities, all of my fallacies, things I'd never be able to atone for came to light. These brief memories of these brief points in my life were suddenly quantified by a few moments rest. The things I had said then, my actions, all were suddenly so clear, so vivid in my mind. The irony was that I'd never be ale to hold her again and say that I was sorry. Regardless of whether she forgave me or not, it would have been proper. It would have been right. The river crept through the cracks and crevices again, which had awakened me from my sleep. I was sprawled out among the riverbank again. My eyes shot open and while my vision was a bit foggy, I saw the hooded figure standing over me. "I have granted you safe passage across the River Styx," he said. "You won't see me again. What you choose from this point is of your own will. Not everyone is granted this opportunity...and yet, your utter disregard of wanting to see this through, is why I have left you here in shambles, in the most precarious position you've ever found yourself in." "I don't understand," I said. "I'm not even sure I know where I am. Why is this happening?"

Before he could answer my questions, I knew. It suddenly hit me. I knew exactly where I was and I knew exactly who this ferryman was. It all came back to me in an instance. The drunken stupor, the accident on the drive to see her...I was among the dearly departed. I clawed at the warm, slippery, muck that was now my skin, "But, why leave me here...in this state?" He stood sternly on his raft, dug his ore deep into the plot of land, and shoved off down the river, "I said not all of us are afforded an opportunity like this. Why don't you ask her?" I watched him row down the steady stream and turned to look at what lay ahead of me. It was a forest thick with trees and full of life. I dug my toes into the dirt and reveled in its beauty. What he had said in mind, I ran through the trees for days. I had lost my bearings several times, but something told me to keep going. I should've been devastated to find I was dead, but the idea that she could've been there with me, that she was waiting, gave me a renewed vigor. And with that, I ran. Through days and nights, I never gave up. I never gave in. I stopped once, and the reasoning behind that, was that I had finally stumbled upon her. She sat on a redwood that had toppled over. Moss and insects had given the tree a proper burial. I was behind her and never once did she look back. I wanted to shout out her name, surprise her, but I was hideous. Besides, there was too much hurt, too much tension, too much left unsaid. What could be said? How would she react to the sight of me? I stepped back and a twig snapped under my foot. She turned slight to her side. Her short, red, hair and bridge of her nose stopped me in my tracks. I wanted to run, but even a side profile of her made me want to drop to my knees. I slowly inched my way towards and sat beside her.

She looked up at me and smiled, "Do you have something to say, Stanley?" "How...how did you know?" I asked. She cupped my hands in hers, "I can see you through your eyes, and I can feel you in your voice." In that moment I knew I had to say what had been plaguing me before my untimely death, I had to say what had resurfaced in my dreams across the River Styx. In that moment, I said I was sorry. Sorry for the hurt, for the scathing remarks, for taking a hammer to her heart. We had talked for hours, days, weeks...time was of no consequence where we were and as its constraints shed, so too did my second skin. She ran her fingers through my hair as we embraced and let familiarity, forgiveness, and a new lease on life take hold. All we had was time, and all we had was one another.