Her voice vibrating through him, blew him back. His hair wafted in the air and a cool breeze came over him, from head to toe, freezing him to the bone. He could feel the sheets move from his body onto the floor. Chills ran up and down in his spine, and goosebumps formed along his arms.
“I don’t know what you want from me! I didn’t understand back then when you died, and I don’t understand now!”
“And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him. 1 John 5:15.’ The answer is inside you, where it’s always been. You gotta listen, Axel. God is tryna tell you something…”
And then, she was gone. Opening his eyes, he looked around, a sense of emptiness filling him—as if he’d won the lottery, had it all, and then, just like that, it was all gone, in the blink of an eye.
Axel sat up in the bed, his thoughts racing. He looked at the ceiling, at a large stained-glass window he’d taken from a rundown, abandoned church and used in his own home. His heart beat painfully fast as he noticed the sheets on the floor. With a sigh, he got to his feet.
I must’ve flung the sheets off the bed during that crazy vision. Ms. Florence… my old teacher. Wow. That was wild. I’ve had a tripped-out dream. Real crazy.
He laughed mirthlessly as he maneuvered around, trying to catch his breath and steady his racing heart. He made his way to the kitchen, brushing his long hair out of his face with slightly trembling fingers. Taking a glass from a cabinet, he placed it on the black island, then reached into the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of water. He stood there for a long while, mulling things.
What if it wasn’t a dream?
That’s stupid. Of course it was. I don’t believe in shit like this. When we die, we die. Ain’t no coming back. I see death every day… never seen no ghosts while I’m cleaning up after dead folks. I’ve heard the stories though. Plenty of ’em. Some almost believable…
He drained his glass, the cool liquid reviving him a little. His eyes dampened as the aroma of that woman’s perfume seemed to fill every inch of the house. He closed his eyes and inhaled, feeling his nostrils flare and clenching his jaws.
Okay…Okay…She’s waiting for me to do some things, right? Ms. Florence said for me to tell my friends. Tell them what? That I saw her?
He placed the glass down on the counter and crossed his arms as he looked out the kitchen window. Plenty of stars in the pitch-black sky.
I’m sure she meant Legend and Caspian. She called us the Brother Disciples. All three of us got close to her. They’re the only two friends I trusted. Legend had some crazy shit happen to him after all of these years. He’s been in and out of jail. Hell, he might be in there right now for all I know. I haven’t spoken to him in like two years… And Caspian moved away. He never returns my calls. I stopped trying ’bout a year or so ago. We used to be so damn close… We were like brothers. Better than brothers…
The three of them used to be the three amigos. Thick as thieves. Family. They met in elementary school, then went to the same high school. Their history teacher, Miss Rhonda Florence was a widowed woman who wore colorful clothing, and sported a calm demeanor. She was real smart, too. Not just about history, but life in general. The only Black woman in the entire school, in a sea of White staff and children who at times, he imagined, made her life a living hell. That lady had a special way of breaking down boring material, and making it seem as exciting as the 4th of July. He loved math, but hated English and History class, until Miss Florence showed up.
They’d talked about so much more than just history. She took an unlikely interest in him and some of the other kids—perhaps the children the world had written off. The ones that would grow up and be considered no good. Their bond grew, and right before she died, he made her a promise.
Oh, yeah. THAT promise. I remember now…
It dawned on him then that all three of them had made a promise to her individually. He’d never discussed it with Legend and Caspian, nor did they disclose what they’d told her.
He poured a little more water and drank that while he was submerged in an ocean of begrudging remembrance. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head in disbelief, then finished his drink, placing the empty glass in the sink. Returning to the bedroom, he found his cellphone and stared at it for a long while.