The room was small. In it were a bed, chair, night table, bedside rug, and a

 Bookshelf.  Drab grey curtains hung at the lone window.

Derrick sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the paper in his hand. The type written note said POSITIVE.

The radio next door was playing loudly as usual.  He rubbed his forehead and stood up as the scalding tears ran down his gaunt face. A moan escaped his mouth. He went on the bed fully and curled himself in the fetal position facing the door. A sudden draft made him open his eyes.  He looked at the window, it was still shut. He looked towards the door, and sprang from his bed.  A man was standing there.

“Good morning”, the man said, and handed the young man another sheet of paper, he read it. It said.

“Your presence is requested”

There was no need for explanations, the manner of his dress, and his grim appearance revealed his mission. The note completed the act.

Though the strangers’ eyes were red, they offered no fear.

Surely he was not like how people had reported him. Derrick’s thoughts moved quickly.  He did bring a considerable amount of coldness with him which made Derrick tremble.  The silent crying tore at his throat.  He tried to walk and stumbled.

The stranger steadied him and guided him to the single chair.

“I am dead, he whispered to himself, dead”

A tremendous rushing was heard at the window, the curtains flew apart and a fiery beautiful woman came in. Her eyes were icy emeralds, her lips ruby-red and smirking.  Derrick’s admiration was short-lived for she came toward him and clutched his throat, roughly pushed his head back, which forced his mouth open and vanished down the dry cavern. He could feel her as she squeezed herself into his chest. He heaved and tried to breathe, the air came out short and sharp. He clutched his chest with both hands, and gasped for air.

He made a sound. It was low and guttural.  His throat was on fire.  He was frightened out of his wits.  What the hell was happening?

The radio next door still blared.

As he mumbled incoherently, the stranger spoke.

 “As a rule I do not have conversations with my wards. Understand that I am doing my job and you have to come with me eventually.  With you though, my mission is a little different as I have come a little ahead of my schedule.”  He made a sign with his fore finger, suggesting Derrick should remain still.

He continued, “I for one do not approve of the sudden departures  because they are disruptive and the behavior of some individuals at times leave me so tired.  Then there are the many questions you all ask.  As if I am supposed to know. How can I know? I am not HE!”  He paused and adjusted his cowl;                  “You are fortunate though” You still have a little time and you should use it well.

Make peace with HIM, HE forgives easy. He cannot help Himself that way; death explained.

“Listen, only yesterday I took this woman to the other place and on the way she realized the folly of her whole life, for it was played back to her.   She vomited and died again.

It was indeed a most awful experience as she awakened once again in death and the scene played again.   She kept this up all the way till I handed her over to her keeper.

That was very stressful for me, a very stressful exercise indeed.  My master, He turns away for He cannot bear to watch as another nail is driven into His flesh. That is what losing one of you is like for Him. Calvary repeated; day in day out.

He told me that each of you is special, so to lose one is a most grievous thing. He even has a place for you so that He could have you unto Himself forever. That is some great love I tell you Derrick.” I do not understand it one bit.

“Why wasn’t I told?”  This question turned over and over in the young man’s head.

“Why wasn’t I told? This is too sudden,” he blurted it out.

 “What the hell? I was going to die anyway;” he started thinking again.  “Should that have made me feel better? Oh my God I am clutching at straws here. Maybe if I keep real still after a while I will wake up and find that this is a bad dream.”

He started to recall, when he was little and had nightmares he used to do a little trick and wake himself just before the dragon ate him. That is what this is, I’ll just wait for the right moment then open my eyes, come awake and go get a glass of water.

 He waited.

The bed sank and he felt the weight of another close to him. There was that odor he could not identify. It was not cologne, it was not a stench, and it was not comforting.

“Derrick, I am not a dream, look at me”,

He spoke so quietly, almost comforting, as if he understood the plight Derrick was in.

“Was he for real or is he just good at his job.” Derrick thought.

“I am thirsty, and who told you my name?”

“I have a book with a listing in alphabetical and chronological order Derrick, and you have come up for collection.”

Derrick was unsteady as he moved towards the fridge. He was thirsty because the woman inside of him was taking up too much space and drying up his secretions with her hot heavy breathing. She was making an awful fire inside his chest, sending the flames snaking up towards his throat and mouth. Licking his lips, he felt the dryness way outside his chin and on the scrub of beard on his cheeks. He was terrorized by the fear within him.  “I could make a run for it” he thought.

The visitor laughed out loud. “Ha ha ha, lordy lord!”

“You are all the same, he said. Make a run indeed.”

“Fool,” he bellowed.

He puffed up with rage, and looked menacing.  He seemed to have grown ten feet tall as he leaned over and pushed his face inches from Derrick’s,

 “Do you know who you are dealing with?  Go ahead, run make my day.

You know, he tapped his long buffed forefinger on Derrick’s head, when I was younger in the business, before the amendment, I used to take a delight when some of my charges would try to run away, Oh, how I would chase them, backing them in corners, allowing them to make little get aways then pouncing on them in deadly fashion. I used to get a thrill hearing them squeal and kick; then I would finally enfold them in my mantle and carry them off gurgling incoherently. I’ve had hundreds and thousands of those. 

Make no mistake I have been doing this for millennia.” “But then, he seemed softer now as he continued, it was the other types that made my job more meaningful. They never gave any trouble; it was always a pleasure to accompany these. When they looked up from their places and noticed me, they would actually say hello and then turn towards the light.  It was almost as if I had to follow them.  Eagerly I would listen to their conversations with the angels as they helped them across the ages, my role then was just a formality.  I must herald death.  he touched his chest in an honorable fashion,It is my role in all of life, to announce death.  This dear good fellow, is my purpose”. 

“I cry every time and wish it were me. I am trying to tell you something Derrick.  It is not as bad as you see it. Get that dam woman out of your system and take a good look around you.”

Death covered his head and sat down.

Derrick stared at him and it was as if he could see his father sitting there instead of the dark Angel.

“Dad? Daddy? Where did you come from?  I didn’t know how to tell you about me being gay. You were so fierce and overbearing, you told me you would kill me if any of the rumors you heard turned out to be true.

Everyone knew you. You were so powerful, so well-respected. I was afraid, and yes, ashamed for you to know of my weakness. It’s funny Dad but I was even afraid for my brothers and sisters to know and that is why I kept away from the family all these years living a double life and a lie.

You know daddy, I never recovered from my mother’s death and you never cared either. I was only six years old, and in a way I had lost both parents.  You never even noticed me long enough to sit me on your lap, put your arm around me tell me it’s okay, that you  would always  be there, instead you blotted me out of your world to be seen and not  heard,  to be cared for by  the hired help. My father, I was corralled in this world.   Do you know how many nights I looked at the moon and cried, I looked at the stars and wondered which one was my mother?

I remembered all the little bits and pieces of conversations I overheard at the funeral and other times relatives visited, and wondered who really killed my mother. They said it was negligence. I looked up the word in the dictionary and it still did not help. Why had negligence killed my mama? Wasn’t the hospital supposed to be a safe place? How could negligence get in there? Did you know that mama was never happy with you?

You treated her so harshly because she was not of the same religious denomination as yourself.  Do you recall the Saturday you found her washing my clothes, grabbed the whole bucket, and tossed it in the dirt?  I never forgot the incident.  After you finished ranting and left, we sat huddled together and I smoothed her hair and caressed her face. 

I loved mama’s hair and her beautiful mocha skin.  Did you really love her?  Didn’t you know she was Anglican before you married her? I feel rather bold now dad and not at all afraid of you.  You are dead, and I am dying.  Things are almost equal now.  I have been feeling unwell for almost a year but was afraid to see a doctor so I continued to blame my hypertension.

That was your gift to me.  High blood pressure.  High blood pressure and a rotten stinking life.  I wish I had a wife and children, instead, I dislike the idea of a woman in my bed and I am not happy with my homosexuality. For me it was a learned thing and I grew into it.  What a state to be in eh daddykins?  What a lousy rotten state.  I  remember how it was at puberty when I started  having  those feelings about sex and girls  how you  never answered my questions, how I heard everything through the grape-vine and then that fatal day that  man at school  fondled me.

There was no one to tell. That night I could not sleep.  I was so uncomfortable with the sensations and the guilt within my inner self. I was frightened and confused.

 How could my teacher feel my crotch, put his tongue in my mouth, and call me pretty?  For  weeks I  avoided him by not  going  to his class  then, you got  the note  from school saying I was absent from my Biology classes.  I tried to explain to you but the words were not coming fast enough and you beat me so hard, all the while talking about how much it was costing you to educate me.  How I hated you that day.  I hated you and the women you were cavorting with then, and prior to my mother’s death.  As if designed by faith, who did I see the next day but the Biology teacher. I ranted at him about the beating I received and as I spoke, he handed me a small gift.  It was a wallet.  How did he know I wanted a wallet?  I had been begging you for a wallet for a whole year.  Was this Divine or Demonic? Was there a battle for my soul? 

After school, I was his guest at the ice cream shop where I had my favorite milk shake.  I poured my heart out to him and he understood how much I missed my mother and comforted me.  At  first  there was no pleasure in it for me but he was a good teacher and before long I experienced my first orgasm and got  trapped  in a place.  Girls meant nothing to me from there on and only my mother counted.

Sometimes  daddy, when I was alone I would feel so ashamed of myself as I was never comfortable with what I had become, but it caused  someone to put their arms around me, to bring me little gifts, to take me to the movies and  place where teenage  boys liked to go.  I had finally gotten a father but he was also my lover.  What a price to pay for paternal love?  I am sick father. I am dying they say, so I feel secure to tell you all this. You have already experienced death so help me to adjust. For once, treat me as if I am your son.

Yes, I am a homosexual and have been for many years. Unfortunately I was careless in my lifestyle, my actions were reckless and now, you get to say ‘I told you so‘

Do you know what father? It really does not matter what you say now because I found happiness as I came to know it at the mercy of others, who many times were harsh to me, but you treated me just as harsh so I was used to the feeling.  Sometimes I was treated like trash or just a toy for a moment of pleasure.

I took what I could get out of it even if it was fleeting, always though, I would be left empty, wondering what happiness was.

Daddy, I was never happy. I laughed a lot. I pretended a lot. I bought my way into the company of rich and exotic people; I used my wits a lot. You would have been proud of me for that. My wits I mean. Oh yes I am the bag of wits.

Aren’t you going to say anything?” 

Derrick asked as he sat down beside his father.

Death spoke.

“Son, you are the one who made all those choices”. You are not without blame.”

Derrick jumped up and almost fell,

“Father” He stared at the figure, it was not his father; it was death sitting there on the bed his head hanging.

He screamed and fainted. His head hit the edge of the table as he went down.

He awoke on his bed. He was in his pajamas.  

“Who changed my clothes?” He practically bawled,

“You are so thin, the visitor said, “Do you know how thin you are?”

Derrick tried to get up but felt very woozy. He was feeling so sick and hungry. He was always hungry; food was always a solace to him. The visitor echoed his thoughts.

“You are hungry. I’ll walk with you to the Kentucky fried chicken place, there you can eat and feel better.” For the time being. He whispered that to himself.

“You will what?” Derrick said, his voice coming out louder than he planned.

“I will walk with you to the Kentucky Fried place.  Look, I have to be with you until such time so get used to it. Are you coming then?”

“Alright, but how are you going to look, your clothes! Those dreadful retro robes!”

Death chuckled, “Ever the fashion police eh Derrick? Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you”.

Derrick sat up slowly with his back to his companion. He struggled to stand and pick up his loafers in the one movement.

“Fashion police indeed he muttered, has he looked at himself lately?”

Turning around, his mouth hung open in amazement. Before him was the reaper looking like Armani himself. The suit he wore sheltered his broad shoulders magically. it  tapered at his waist and let the trousers cut exquisitely over his thighs, where the muscles subtly rippled under the expensive fabric.

Derrick caught his breath. His eyes raked admiringly over the   figure before him.

“You look fantastic he whispered, how did you do that?” 

“I see you approve,” the Visitor said,

“But wait a minute, Derrick shrilled, it is too much, we are only going to Kentucky”.

“Is there no pleasing you?” said the Visitor.

“Here, take off the tie and undo your collar. There! That’s better”.

“Fashion police indeed”, he said as he stepped back, and looked at his visitor.

He picked up his silk calf length coat. The burgundy contrasted with his white linen shirt and pants, which draped handsomely from his narrow hips. He still had enough meat on his bones to cut a figure.

“Shall we, said Derrick?”

The door closed softly behind them.

At the restaurant Derrick ordered an enormous amount of food as death watched with faint amusement.

“Do you intend to eat all that?”

“Watch me”

“That is a lot of food Derrick!”

“I am a hungry man sir, a very hungry man.”

Half an hour later it was all over and as they walked back to the apartment  Derrick  remarked  that he could not understand why everyone in the restaurant  kept staring at him as he ate, it was as if  they thought he was  mad or something, the way they looked. You know, as if I was talking to myself!

“You must forgive them; death said, they can’t see me, so you did seem to be talking to yourself and so loudly. Laughing talking and eating, you would seem peculiar.”

Derrick stopped walking,

“You mean only I can see you?”

“Yes, Derrick, what did you think?”

“Well thank you very much for embarrassing me”

“You did that to yourself, how can they see me? I did not come to them, I am your visitor after all man, and as such it is a private matter; for once in your life think beyond your fingertips”.

‘I want to be alone,” Derrick said,

“Can you leave me for a moment, I want to sit in the park and breathe some fresh air.”

Death vanished.

He crossed the street and entered the park, found a bench and stretched himself out fully using his rolled up coat as a pillow and closed his eyes, there was that dam odor again. He sighed.

“If this isn’t a bloody nightmare, I don’t know what is” he mumbled as he fell off to sleep.

Once asleep, he dreamed of when he worked at the hospital as a lab technician. He was in his early twenties and life was thrilling. He was handsome, gifted, popular, money to spare and as they say, endowed.  He dreamed of young men laughing, cavorting, and drinking champagne, wearing beautiful clothes and expensive shoes. Yet there is always a dark cloud lurking in his dreams and always in the back of his mind. In his sleep, though it appeared larger and seemed as if it would materialize into some one.

“Dad……..Mom?”

“Mom.” He sobbed in his sleep, “Mom,” His lips quivered. Sweat broke on his forehead and a fly buzzed near his ears.

A crow screamed in a tree above his head, a very big black crow, with silver eyes and sharp claws.

“Cawwww!  It screamed and swooped down over his head and flew across his face.

 “Jesus Christ”, Derrick cried out as he came awake with arms flailing,

“Get away, get away” he brushed his face frantically and slapped his head.  Sweat poured all over him. He was very confused. He looked around him. A dog sat watching him.

The crow screamed again and swooped down and perched abruptly on the bench.

He hit out at it, and felt his wrist caught in a vise grip and he found himself looking into two chunks of burning coals, which pierced his own weak watering eyes.

“You” Derrick hissed, you scared me, is this your idea of a joke?  Torturing people, frightening them, is this your idea of a joke?”

 He was screaming.  His heart   thundered in his chest, sweat flowed freely; he felt the tension in his body,

ANGINA!                                         

His fingers groped feverishly at his coat pocket in search of his nitro glycerin pills, the drum in his head beat louder. He saw death out the corner of his eye, uncaring, silently watching him, again in those damn dreary robes.

“What the hell are you staring at?” He panted as he placed the pill under his tongue and collapsed face down on the bench clutching his chest.

“Oh God, oh Jesus” he groaned.

Death was surprised to hear him speak such words, but relieved. That indeed was a step in the right direction.

“Are you all right?”

The voice sounded distant.

“Are you all right?” a second time.

Someone touched his shoulder. He slowly turned his head up to face the voice.

“Young, Derrick thought, seventeen perhaps, and so Chinese.

Definitely not my type. His head fell forward again as a second wave of pain forced another groan from his throat.

When next he was conscious he immediately recognized his surroundings, after all he had been there before. He felt his arms. There were no intravenous needles. He was wearing the drab hospital gown. Death was sitting in the chair by the bed keenly focused on the man in the other bed. Derrick remembered everything in a rush and refused to acknowledge the Visitor. On the other hand, was the Visitor ignoring him, for he was totally caught up with the man in the next bed. Death walked towards the man, raised both his arms bringing his robes up like a shield, and in one silent movement shrouded his victim.  Derrick must have passed out because when he opened his eyes the next time he did have an intravenous in his arm and a monitor attached to his chest. The Reaper was sitting in the chair next to him. The bed across the room was empty.

Hot tears ran down his cold cheeks, he blew his nose and his thin shoulders shook with despair. “This is so hopeless he thought, this has to be a dream,” he murmured.

“It isn’t, death replied, I am really here and you are there.”

“Am I to have no privacy” Derrick asked, he was very angry but did not have the energy to show it. The monitor raced and displayed bizarre pictures. The nurse came running in calling his name,

“Mr. Williamson, are you all right?” She started checking all the connections.  She checked the IV. She checked his pulse and counted his breaths.

“Derrick,” she spoke his name kindly,

“You look as if you have seen a ghost!” you are sweating and yet your vital signs and EKG readings are fine. Is anything troubling you?”

“No. I am fine, I am OK.”

“I’ll sit here a few minutes with you,” she said, and sat directly on death’s lap.

Derrick rolled his eyes as death seemed to smirk and made the woman comfortable. After all death said,

‘In the midst of life there is death’

“You are sick,” Derrick screamed and sat bolt upright in the bed.  The nurse jumped back aghast at the sudden outburst she did not expect nor understood. Her sudden movement toppled the chair and knocked over the bed table. Derrick looked feverishly around the room, his eyes as big as saucers and the sweat poured down his brows.

“Mr. Williamson, said the nurse, I am getting the head nurse in here, something is wrong” She hurried out.

‘Where the hell are you?’ Derrick shouted.

“Up here”, was the answer.

Derrick looked up at the ceiling.  Death was afloat, sitting in the lotus position.  He fainted again.

“What a struggle, thought the visitor.”

“What a struggle, and to think he is getting a good deal. He has time on his side.”

If only he knew, he has five more years of life, five beautiful years to get ready. The nurse who was just in the room, I will be taking her tonight when she leaves for home.  She is perfectly healthy, but her name has come up. She won’t even see the car coming”.

 

                                                                          THE END.

 

 This short story was written for a stage production. circa 1994, The individual on whose life the story is based is still alive and making the very best of each day.