"Come down deep into the Vale, where all the hidden stories lie..." She / They Welcome to Autumn Vale, side blog of @disparatemind, where all of my writings live. This blog features only my own writings and answers to asks. 🪶📖
Welcome to Autumn Vale Academia, side blog of @disparatemind, where all of my original writings will now be kept. Only my own writings and answers to asks on this page will be posted.
Header photo "Autumn Library" by Bergionstyle on Deviant Art 🍁
this is so rogue but does anyone have the poetry template that went semi-viral on twitter a while back? it was designed for kids but someone gave it to their mother who has dementia and she wrote a really moving poem about her experience.
the minute I posted this I remembered enough of the prompt itself to find it and now I’m trying not to cry at work
on a totally different note is this response from a kid, which is also beautiful and imo no less profound. and shows how the prompt can be interpreted so differently.
Though it had been over two decades since I'd entered the café, the outside of it was just as I'd remembered; a wooded area with a foot path leading up to the door, which was brightly lit by the lanterns on either side of it.
The door I had just come through was just as brightly lit, but the path went away into the woods, and I hesitated for the briefest of moments.
Just then Wade appeared, a smile on his face.
“Hello, Rose. I promised I'd be here to greet you at my Door when you were ready.”
“So you did.” I looked past him at the trees, and his smile broadened.
“No need to worry, I'm here to escort you to your afterlife.” Gesturing to the path, I stepped up beside him and we started walking.
Foreboding had filled me as soon as I saw the trees, but walking underneath the leafy boughs, I felt a sense of serenity filling me. Glancing over at Wade, a question burst out of my mouth.
“So which was your favorite part of the café? The food? The drinks? The company?”
He grinned. “The cinnamon rolls, obviously. What else?”
I laughed, feeling lighter than I had for ages. “Did you send Julie to my café on purpose?”
“I had no need to,” Wade replied. “Sooner or later, everyone runs into a mirror of themselves. It's up to the individual to see their reflection.”
I pondered that as we kept walking, and I appreciated the beautiful scenery. Soon enough we came to a clearing in the trees, and as we left the woods I saw two souls waiting to greet me, wide smiles on their faces.
“Mom! Emily!” I cried, running forward to meet them.
By the time I finished my story and looked up, the entire café was completely silent as the patrons listened. I felt my lips quirk into a smile. “So much for not having an audience,” I said ruefully.
It was a long moment before the silence was broken.
“That's absolutely horrible, what happened to you,” Julie said. “I'm so sorry you had to go through that.” She turned to Couch. “And you! Twenty years in a coma?” She shook her head and poured another cup of coffee for him.
“That's an awfully long time to be in a coma,” Sam said. “Even if you'd woken from it, I'm not sure what kind of life you'd have had.”
“The joy of having affluent parents,” Couch said drily. “Had it been up to me, I'd have gone through the Door years ago.”
“So why haven't you yet?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.
Couch raised an eyebrow at me and grinned. “You didn't really think I was going to leave you behind, did you?” he asked. “I didn't want to leave until you were ready to.”
Tears pricked my eyes as Julie and Sam nodded, and I felt immensely grateful for the souls sitting around me. “You didn't have to do that, you know,” I said in a watery voice.
“And you didn't have to care for others the way you have for so long,” Couch replied. “Myself included.”
The other patrons nodded, and I laughed a little through my tears. “Thanks for making me feel better,” I said.
“So… what made you decide you were done?” Julie asked a little hesitantly.
“When I called Wade and asked him if Emily was still alive,” I explained. “I'd made a promise to myself that once she passed, I would meet her in whatever afterlife we both had. He told me she passed in her sleep three years ago, of an aneurysm.”
“Wade? As in the Wade we all know?” Couch asked, surprise filling his face.
“Yup, that's the one.”
Quite a few souls were surprised at that one, and I sipped my coffee and munched on the goodies Julie had given me.
“You know, these are pretty darn good,” I told her, and she beamed at me.
“Thanks! I've had a fair bit of practice,” she said with a smile. “I'm hoping I'll be half as good as you've been at running this place.”
I smiled at her. “I have complete faith in you.”
The other patrons drifted back to their own conversations, but Couch and Sam stayed nearby while Julie continued her tasks. It felt incredibly strange to be sitting as a patron while someone else worked behind the counter, but as strange as it felt, it also felt… right. She seemed completely at ease now that she'd found a way of coping with her death, and it seemed that slowly her memories were coming back, at least enough to let her move forward.
I wonder how long she'll stay here, I wondered idly as I continued to sip and munch. My eyes drifted over the café and its denizens, and eventually they settled on the Door at the other end. After what felt like only a short while later, my cup and plate were empty, and I knew my loved ones were waiting.
I looked over at Couch, and after a moment his eyes met mine. I nodded once, and signed thank you to him, trying not to cry. He smiled in response and turned back to his conversation with Sam, and when I looked at Julie, she was heavily involved in a conversation with a soul sitting two seats down.
I got up nervously, expecting all eyes to be on me, but no one looked my way. I remembered what I had told Sam and Julie about the lack of bell above the Door, but I hadn't realized that my wish for the patrons' privacy had made it so that no one even noticed when a person was walking across the café. Part of me wanted to turn around and sit back down, to rest before I started my journey, but I'd waited long enough.
Taking a deep breath, I reached for the handle and opened the door to Death's domain.
I mourned the loss of my unlived life, my adopted mom and my best friend Emily, my familiar, everything I never got to do or see or fix with the people important to me. When my voice was completely gone from screaming, I drew in several ragged breaths and got to my feet, wishing I could take a long, hot shower.
Instantly the room modified itself into a bathroom—one minute it was an empty room, the next I was looking at a stone floor with a waterfall shower and several towels on a table nearby with a robe hanging up—and took the longest, hottest shower I could ever remember taking. I noticed passively that I could still feel sensations like the water hitting my skin and the heat from it, but it felt different now; both less intense, as I no longer had a physical body, and more intense as the heat and water and steam were soul-soothing sensations.
However much later, I dried myself off and threw the robe on, looking at the clothes that materialized on a rack in front of me and choosing a dress and skirt combo that reminded me of the ren faires I'd loved to go to. Taking a deep breath and going into the main room of the café, I put on an apron and looked through every cabinet and every part of the fridge and freezer to familiarize myself with where everything was, pleased to find an old, leather bound recipe book with a good array of different pastries and breads that I could make for the patrons who would eventually show up. I started putting together the things I needed for the first few batches of goodies I planned to make, and for a while I was able to lose myself within the soothing motions of measuring and stirring and kneading.
Once I finally had the display cases and large glass-fronted pantry full, I realized I was as ready as I'd ever be to start greeting the souls that would come through my door, and within moments the door opened, ringing the bell above it.
“Welcome to my café,” I said warmly. “My name is Rose.”
And there I stalled out, unsure what else to say. The soul, who looked like a middle-aged man, looked at me and said, in a voice that reminded me of leaves rustling as the wind made them dance, “Hello. I'm… not entirely sure how I got here. Last thing I remember was lying in a bed, unable to move.”
“Oh, I'm… I'm sorry to hear that,” I stammered, already feeling like I was floundering in my new role. Suddenly a thought crossed my mind that made my whole body feel like a bell that was clanging, and with utter certainty I said, “You're in a coma, but for how long I don't know.” I gestured to the stools in front of me and the couches and tables off to each side. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Can I get you some coffee or tea?”
The soul looked at me for a long moment before answering. “Coffee, please. Milk, two sugars.”
As the soul took a seat on a nearby sofa, I ground up the beans and brewed a fresh pot, grabbing a plate and loading it with some freshly-baked snickerdoodles before heading over.
“Here, you looked like you needed these as well,” I said. “What's your name?”
The soul opened their mouth and then promptly closed it again. Looking at me helplessly, I shook my head.
“It's ok, don't worry about it.” I looked around, trying to find something, anything, to say, but the soul was the first to break the awkward silence.
“This is really good coffee.”
“Oh. Thank you,” I responded automatically. “I think the brew tastes better when the beans are fresh ground.”
“I agree.”
We both fell silent again, and eventually I asked, “Is there a name you'd like me to call you while you're here?”
The soul looked at the cup in their hand, then at the sofa they were seated on, and one corner of their mouth curved up in a sardonic grin.
I didn't know where I was or how I'd gotten there, but something felt very, very wrong. A quick look to the left and right of me revealed a black and gray rocky area, the part which I was standing on flat and level, while in front of me was an ocean that lay completely still. I could only see about fifty feet in either direction, and everything had a hazy quality to it that did nothing to reassure me.
Am I…?
"I'm afraid there's been a bit of a mix up," came a voice from behind me.
I spun around, my eyes tearing away from that eerie, waveless ocean to the man standing behind me, and my confusion only multiplied.
“... Deadpool?”
A small curve appeared at the corner of his lips. “Not quite. Everyone perceives me differently, whatever the closest thing is that their mind can compare me to.”
“But if you're not Deadpool, then who could you…?”
Horror swept over me. The feeling of wrongness about where I was, the lifeless surroundings…
“I'm dead, aren't I?”
He nodded. “You are, but it wasn't your time yet.” A sad smile appeared on his face. “Your friend, Emily, was the one I was supposed to meet, but you took her place.” He paused, as though trying to choose his words carefully. “Ordinarily I would send you back to the realm of the living, but your body was burned too badly. There's nothing for you to return to.”
Images of a car and fire flying at me flashed through my mind, and I shook my head.
“No. No, this can't be right.” I felt hysteria rising in my chest, and I started to hyperventilate. “I can't… I can't be dead.”
Death/Deadpool made no move towards me, but even in my shock I could feel a wave of calm emanating from him. “I can offer you a choice,” he told me. “I can guide you to your afterlife, if you're ready to go now; I can guide you to a resting place—a waypoint on your journey—until you're ready to continue; or you can serve as a guardian or guide until you are ready to move on.”
My head spun and I barely understood what Deathpool was telling me. A guardian or guide? A waypoint?
“I-I don't understand,” I stammered. “A waypoint?”
“Yes,” he answered. “They take different forms, such as a tavern or a spring or an oasis, but they serve as resting points on a soul’s journey to the afterlife that awaits them. Some souls come and go freely, such as those in comas or who are having near-death experiences. Or you could serve as a guide, gathering souls to guide them to the first steps of their journey, or even as a guardian, protecting those souls who are hunted even in death.”
Deathpool cocked his head to the side and studied me for a moment. “You were a practitioner of magic in life, yes?”
“Yes, I was a witch,” I answered. “What about my deities?”
“They may be waiting for you at the end of your journey.” Deathpool glanced out at the black mirror of water next to us and then looked back at me. “What is your choice, Rose?”
I stood staring into the emptiness around me, my mind whirling. What could I possibly choose? My life had been stolen from me, and although I wanted to greet the deities I'd worked with and worshipped, I wanted to live… but that was no longer an option. A panic started to rise in my chest, and I wished inanely that I could bake something.
“I want to run a café,” I blurted out desperately, looking at Deathpool. “I don't… I can't give up whatever life I can make for myself, even if it's no longer among the living. I'm not ready to move on. I want to live, however I can.”
Deathpool nodded, and the unnerving shoreline faded away as a building took shape in front of us. The moment it solidified, I realized it was the exact quaint, cottage-looking building I'd dreamed of in life, and I turned to Deathpool.
“When you are ready, I will greet you at my Door; until then the café is yours and will modify itself to whatever you need. No soul can bring you harm, but you have the right to limit someone's visit, and should someone in the cafe overstay their welcome or cross a boundary, you need only say they are no longer welcome and I will remove them myself.”
I nodded mutely in agreement, and Deathpool gave me another smile. “You are stronger than you think, Rose, but don't feel that you must be strong indefinitely.”
He disappeared, and I turned and entered the building, the interior already solidified from the picture in my mind. I walked through the door that led from Life's realm and looked around numbly. It looked exactly like I'd always dreamed my perfect café would look, but I couldn't feel anything other than shock. I entered the Staff Only room, nothing more than an empty room at that moment, to release my emotions, knowing that not a sound could be heard on either side of the door. I took three steps into the room, sank to my knees, and screamed.
I rolled my eyes at my best friend, stuffing a flashlight and extra batteries into my backpack. “You're not going to talk me out of it, Emily. I lost the bet, so I'm spending the night at the Fletcher house. End of discussion.”
Emily pursed her lips, and I could tell she wanted to shake me. “You're a stubborn shit, you know that?”
“So I've been told.”
She blew out a sigh of exasperation as I hefted the pack onto my shoulder. “I said you couldn't finish the date with Brandon. You finished it, so I lost the bet. So now I'm spending the night at the Fletcher house, supposedly haunted by the spirits of Thomas Fletcher's wife and child after he murdered them.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “I'm at least walking over there with you.”
I locked the door behind me and we headed off up the street. The residential area we were in was a grouping of cul-de-sacs with a handful of streets branching off to other areas of the town, but the Fletcher house was on one of the outermost dead ends close to the woods, and about a ten minute walk from the house we rented.
As we approached the dead end where the Fletcher house sat, Emily slowed down. “Rose, I'm not joking. I don't want you to do this. It's not safe.”
I smirked at her. “I thought I was supposed to be the one afraid of ghosts?”
She shook her head in frustration. “No, that's not what I'm talking about. I've had a bad feeling about this whole idea of yours, and the closer we get to the house the worse I feel.” She stopped walking. “Please Rose, don't do this.”
My stride didn't slow, and as I approached the corner I looked back over my shoulder and stepped into the street.
“I'm not scared, Emily. This'll be a piece of—”
There was no warning. One moment I was looking at Emily, the next moment I was rolling over and over into the front yard of the Fletcher house.
What happened? I thought frantically, finally coming to a stop facing the street.
Emily stood staring in horror as a second car came screeching around the corner, drunken cries emitting as a window rolled down and something on fire was thrown towards me.
No, not towards me. Towards the house.
Another projectile was thrown, this time closer to me, and just before it hit me I saw that it was a beer bottle with a rag that had been lit on fire. It shattered upon impact, shards of glass and liquid flame spreading over my entire body in an instant, and I couldn't move, couldn't scream.
“ROSE!!”
Emily's feet finally came unglued from the sidewalk, but before she'd even reached the other side of the street, a wave of utter blackness was creeping across my vision and my lungs were already seared from the flames.
“Oh god… hang on Rose, please, just hang on.”
I could hear the tears in Emily's voice and tried to speak, but I couldn't move a muscle. My vision dimmed completely, and Emily's voice started to fade.
“Yes, hello, 911? My best friend was just hit by a car and she's on fire… At the Fletcher house on Pine Street. Please hurry, she's not moving… Rose, just hang on…”
Although I went about my duties as normal, my mind was full and my chest was tight. Emotions I'd been repressing for years were surfacing, and while I'd been able to process the strongest waves of it during my meditation in the Staff Only room, it was still taking some time to go through it.
I was so used to making my rounds that I did it on autopilot without a second thought, answering questions and taking orders without knowing what was said or what was asked for except what I wrote down. If I seemed preoccupied no one mentioned it, though of course both Couch and Julie noticed. This time, however, neither said anything, and Sam merely smiled reassuringly.
Part of me wanted to just go over to the Door and get it over with, but I couldn't just up and leave like that. But I didn't necessarily want an audience or to announce my departure either.
I don't think you've got much of a choice on that one.
I wanted to argue with the voice in my head, but I knew it was right. I had made myself a promise when I first started at the café, and now the time had come. But when was the right time for me to leave?
Once again I found myself going in circles in my head, overthinking and unable to stop myself. Only when I heard the bell above the door to Life did I stop in my tracks, both physically and mentally. Everything around me seemed to freeze, and I felt the breath leave my body.
The soul at the door looked around before walking in a couple of steps, and I managed to breathe only one word.
“Emily?”
It was so quiet I barely heard it escape my own lips, and when the newcomer looked at me I saw that it wasn't who I'd thought it was. Still, my knees were shaking and I had to force myself to breathe. Julie happened to notice the expression on my face and came over immediately.
“You look like you've just seen a ghost,” she said, completely straight faced.
“I thought I did,” I said, not even bothering to point out the pun.
“You need to sit down.” I let Julie guide me back to the counter, and I sat down on one of the stools while she greeted the newcomer and grabbed food and drink. After making sure the newest patron was set, Julie came back to where I was seated at the counter and, after setting down a plate heaped with a cinnamon roll, several cookies, two muffins, and a slice of coffee cake, Julie also gave me one of the largest coffee cups in the cafe filled with coffee and Irish Cream coffee creamer—just how I liked it. Sam and Couch both drifted over to see if I was ok, and I nodded as I sipped the coffee.
“I thought I saw someone I knew,” I explained once I was able to speak again, which took roughly half of the coffee I'd been given. “But it couldn't have been.”
“Why not?” Sam asked.
“Because the person I thought it was died a few years ago.”
The three souls looked at each other. “Is that another one of those ‘you know because you're the owner' type of things?” Julie asked.
A short humorless laugh escaped me. “Kind of.” I paused for a moment, then let out a sigh that came from the very depths of my soul.
It was time.
I looked at Couch, and then at Sam and Julie.
“Twenty years, seven months, and thirteen days ago, I died.”
Wade’s answer had left me in quiet contemplation for a very long time. I sat in the Staff Only room thinking about my time at the cafe, and the souls I’d seen and talked to, and the reasons I'd had for not going through Death's Door.
For the first time since arriving at the café, I lit incense and prayed to the gods I'd followed in my life, meditating and trying to clear the storm within my mind. Ultimately I came to a decision, and although I felt some trepidation, I walked back out into the café with my head held high.
I'd been gone long enough that every eye turned to me, and I reassured everyone that I was fine and had just needed a breather. Sam came up to me to ask if I was alright, and I smiled at his kindness. “I'm really ok, thank you,” I said. “I'm glad I didn't miss you before I came back out.” The easy-going soul had grown on me.
“Well, I wanted to make sure you were ok at least,” Sam said, returning my smile. “I'm not quite ready yet, but I'm sure I will be soon.”
“Please, take your time.” Gods know I've taken mine.
I made sure Sam was topped off and joined Julie behind the counter. She, of course, paused what she was doing to look at me.
“I'm fine,” I said, heading off her question. “I just had a lot of thinking to do.”
She nodded. “I can understand that,” she said. “That's why I'm so quiet when I'm working. My hands are busy but my mind isn't, and it likes to wander.”
She got back to what she was doing, and I started to help but realized that would just be in the way. More startling was the realization that even though she'd effectively taken baking away from me, I didn't mind. Rather, it was a relief to not be constantly focused on the mixing and the oven and the measuring and the whatnot.
I looked at the teapot under the countertop, the one I filled my own cup from when I wanted tea and not coffee, and the thought of a cup of chamomile with honey suddenly sounded wonderful. Within moments I saw steam coming from the spout, and I poured myself a cup before leaning against the wall, watching the café.
This isn't a bad life to have lived, I thought to myself. It's certainly given me more purpose than anything else I could have done.
The thought of what lay on the other side of the Door still terrified me, but during my meditations I'd realized what exactly I was waiting for, and it felt like I might finally be ready to take that first step past the threshold.
But first things first…
“Hey Julie, how are you with cinnamon rolls?”
She turned and raised an eyebrow at me. “Is that a challenge?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.
I laughed. “Maybe a better question would be which of these recipes you don't know, if any.” I grabbed the recipe book I'd used when I first arrived at the cafe and we started flipping through the pages, Julie adding input from her own experience and mentioning new recipes she might introduce.
A feeling started to bloom in my chest, one that felt similar to fear but without the utter dread that always accompanied it. With a start, I realized that what I was feeling was excitement.
I glanced at the Door again, and for the first time since laying eyes on it, I wasn't afraid; I was curious.
My musings were interrupted by the door to Life opening again, and another non-speaking soul stepped through. I welcomed them in and took their order, and while I filled it Julie asked how I knew sign language.
“I picked it up while working here,” I answered. “Along with a few others.”
“You didn't know any other languages while you were alive?”
“Only one: Spanish.”
Julie continued working. “I wonder how quickly I'll pick them up.”
I looked at her in surprise. “You plan on staying that long?” I asked her.
“You have,” she replied simply. “And I know I want to wait for my loved ones.”
“Um… about that… They may not come to this Café. There are other waypoints that souls can stop at,” I tried to explain gently.
Julie looked at me for a moment and cocked her head to the side in thought. “Well, I can always go through the Door later,” she replied.
“Fair enough.”
“Prrrrrrow!”
We both turned to the source of the meow, and I smiled as Miu hopped up onto the counter and rubbed up against me. “Hey Miu.”
“Oh my goodness, what a beautiful cat!” Julie breathed. “And she's silvery, like a spirit.”
“That's exactly what she is,” I explained. “She's my familiar, and chooses to stay here of her own free will. She comes and goes as she pleases.”
Julie looked up at me. “Familiar?”
“Yeah, like a witch's familiar. She's mostly an emotional support animal.”
Julie held out her fingers, and Miu sniffed in her direction but didn't move. Julie accepted the denial and went back to baking. “Has she been with you the whole time?” Julie asked.
“Almost. She showed up with Wade soon after I got here and he asked her if she wanted to stay. Miu rubbed up against my legs so that was that.”
“I loved cats,” Julie said wistfully. “I don't remember a lot, but I remember I loved cats and wanted to save all of them. People would bring cats to me and I'd take them in.”
Miu perked up her head at Julie's words, the top of her tail twitching.
“I remember that some of the things people would do to cats made me sick, so I wanted to give every cat I could the best life possible.”
“No wonder I like you so much.”
We both laughed at that, and I spent a few more minutes petting Miu before she jumped up onto her favorite perch on top of the pantry and started purring, her eyes on Julie.
“Don't mind the Supurrvisor up there,” I said drily, picking up my tray to deliver orders.
After making my rounds and dropping the tray back off at the counter, I leaned against the wall and just watched. The soft sounds of conversation and clinking dishes was as comforting to me as baking was, and I glanced at Couch. He, too, was watching everyone, as he had done the entire time he was here, and I wondered again what kept him from leaving. He'd been here so long, unable to leave, that I would have thought he'd leap at the opportunity now that he was no longer tied to his physical body.
Did YOU leap at the chance to go to the afterlife? that voice in the back of my head asked.
No, I answered, but my life was stolen from me.
And his wasn't? the voice replied.
My eyes automatically shot over to Couch, and I realized how valid that point was. He'd been in a coma, unable to live and unable to pass on. I thought of the last time he'd gotten a visitor, when the soul named Alex had first shown up, and Couch had said he didn't think she would be coming again.
The she, his sister, was, to my knowledge, the only member of his family who'd still visited him, and even those visits had stopped eventually.
Exactly. So whose life was stolen? my mind asked.
Not just mine, I answered myself silently, looking at Death’s Door in contemplation. A thought occurred to me, and I excused myself into the Staff Only room. Sitting in front of the mirror on the wall, I spoke to the gray fog within it.
“I have a question for you,” I said.
The fog swirled for a moment, and Wade’s face appeared. “Sure thing babes, what can I do ya for?”
Julie had already cleaned up the coffee and glass from where it had fallen when I'd dropped it, and I felt my lips move up into what I hoped was a smile. “Thanks for getting that.”
“You're welcome,” she said with a cautious smile. “Are you ok?”
I stared at her for a moment. “I think so,” I answered. “It's just… a bit of a shock is all. He's been here the longest of anyone.” I looked at the Door. “He doesn't have to wait anymore.”
After hearing no reply I looked over to find Julie studying me. “Do you? Have to wait?” she asked.
Do I?
The question circled my mind endlessly, and the only reply I could give was, “I don't know.”
She studied me a moment longer, and I could only wonder what was going through her head. “Fair enough,” she finally said, turning back to her mixing.
I went back to plating orders, my thoughts swirling around. Technically the answer to Julie's question was No, I didn't have to wait any length of time at all. I could have chosen to go to the afterlife immediately if I'd wanted, but instead I chose the café, desperate for any kind of life at all.
It took another five trips around the café before I realized that Couch was still there. “You haven't gone through the Door yet?” I asked, surprise making me forget my manners, and I grimaced. “Sorry, I didn't mean—”
“No offense taken,” he said with a smile. “And no, I haven't.”
“Why?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “You're not getting rid of me that easy,” he chuckled. “I'm just… not quite ready to leave yet.”
This time I was the one who raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” I asked.
Couch looked at the Door, then at me. “Soon,” he said.
I felt my eyebrow go higher but didn't say anything else. If anything, the fact that Couch hadn't left yet told me that either he was still afraid to go through the Door, or he had another reason to stay. But what could it be? As I mulled it over I continued to do my rounds, with breaks behind the counter in between to help Julie or restock the pantry and display cases.
At least I was no longer running on autopilot, which the patrons seemed to notice, as they responded more easily and with less concern in their faces and voices. I answered various questions and took orders, with a couple of requests I was curious to see if Julie could make. I headed back behind the counter again, already used to her presence even though it was still strange seeing someone else on my side of it.
She looked at the requested pastries and laughed. “Cherry Danish and coffee cake? Give me a challenge at least,” she said with a grin. This was the most animated I'd seen her so far, and her grin was infectious; I found myself smiling back at her.
“Noted,” I laughed back, leaving her to her own devices as I took a tray of fresh goods to the pantry to sort. Unfortunately it was the type of activity that still left the mind free, and soon I was back to the same circles I'd been in before.
Why was Couch waiting to go through the Door? And why was I?
It seemed that I'd gone quite a long time without any changes in the cafe, save for the fact that the souls sitting in it were constantly arriving and departing, so Julie stepping behind the counter was kind of a big deal. And yet with as much as my mind had been pulled to Death's Door, especially recently, it seemed that change was inevitable… and long due.
I was doing my rounds yet again, and in between refilling orders I checked on Julie. “How are you doing?” I asked.
“I'm doing ok,” she said, looking up at me without pausing in her kneading. “This is helping a lot.”
“It helped me a lot too, when I first got here,” I said. “It's very soothing.”
Julie nodded, then glanced at the counter, which was crowded with ingredients, and smiled sheepishly at me. “I hope you don't mind, but I remembered a couple of things I used to make…”
A smile spread across my face. “Not at all! I'm excited to see what you make,” I told her. “I'm glad you're doing a bit b—”
The smile slid from my face and crashed to the floor right along with the coffee pot I'd been holding. Scalding coffee splattered my legs but I felt nothing, didn't hear a word of the concerned shouts around me. All I could do was stare at the soul sitting alone on the couch across the café, my entire body clanging like a death knell.
Couch sat staring straight ahead, hand hanging in mid-air like he'd been holding a cup that had fallen from suddenly-nerveless fingers, eyes wide and an expression of shell-shock on his face. Neither of us moved for what felt like ages, and only when his eyes locked onto mine did I feel my own breath come back to me.
“Couch…” I whispered, moving through the crowd surrounding me and stopping a few feet away. My hand started to reach out of its own accord but stopped halfway, unsure.
His mouth moved but no sound came out, and it took several more tries before he finally managed anything at all.
“It's… It's done. There's no heartbeat,” he said in a whisper. “I'm free.”
His eyes misted over and he said it again, louder and full of shocked joy. “I'm free!”
A smile more joyous than any I'd ever seen spread over his face, and he jumped up. “I'm free!” he shouted.
Cheers erupted from the patrons, the sound physically making me sway, and I stood staring. Couch was no longer among the living. His soul was no longer tethered to the earth, and he was free to move on. My eyes pricked with tears and I smiled at him, turning to go back to the counter.
Pulling out a batch of cinnamon rolls that Julie had finished baking for me, I took the best one and put it on a plate, grabbing a cup of fresh coffee and making my way over to Couch.
“Congratulations,” I said, my voice choking up even on just that one word, and I handed him the food and drink. He looked at it and took it from me, setting it down and then yanking me into a hug.
I froze in shock, and it took me a moment to remember I was supposed to wrap my arms around him in response. His shoulders shook with emotion, and slowly my arms tightened around him.
After who knows how long, he pulled back and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, didn't mean to… I just…”
He laughed helplessly. “Thanks,” he said simply. “I think I'll enjoy that cinnamon roll you brought me.”
I nodded and moved behind the counter, moving on autopilot with only one thought circling in my head like I just couldn't grasp it; Couch was finally free.
I'd gone two more rounds around the café before I realized how many souls had changed.
As I'd told Julie and Sam, there was no bell above Death’s Door for a reason. Who wanted to be watched while they took that first step into the unknown? But as a result, it meant that no one, not even I, knew when someone crossed that threshold.
It was something other souls didn't always notice, and there were a few other things about my café I didn't always advertise, like the hidden corner where I'd put Julie so she has some privacy, so when someone pointed them out to me, it piqued my interest.
“You know what else I've noticed?” Sam asked as I went behind the counter to plate orders and check on the current batch of goodies.
I raised an eyebrow and he continued, “there's no music playing.”
A smile spread across my face. “Correct.”
“Why?”
“It's too triggering for some,” I explained. “I used to have it playing in here, but after seeing how it reminded some people of their lives, their loved ones, passions they'd had… I figured it was best to refrain altogether.”
Sam contemplated that for a moment. “I suppose I can see how that might make it harder for some to process. I guess for some souls… like me, for example… well, I already knew I was on my way to meet my Maker, so I didn't find it too shocking that I wasn't in pain anymore.”
I nodded, unsure what to say to that. After a while, I looked up from my stirring and was surprised to see that Julie had drifted over to the counter and was watching me.
“I hope you don't mind,” she said shyly. “I was watching you and realized I recognized the movements, and then I remembered I loved to bake…”
She drifted off, but I noticed that this soul was coming more and more out of her shell, and I would do what I could to encourage that.
“Would you like to help? I've never had anyone else behind the counter, but I know being able to bake helped me when I first showed up here.”
Julie's eyes grew wide for a moment, and she quickly came around the counter to stand next to me. Before I could even say a word, she scanned the items before her and rattled off, “sugar cookies, banana nut muffins, and lemon cakes?”
I just stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded. “Uh… yeah,” I said oh-so-articulately. “That was impressive.”
Julie smiled. “I remember baking a lot. It was soothing, and I loved it.”
“Me too.”
After making sure Julie was comfortable working where she was, I made another trip around the café. Couch was openly staring at me with a question mark on his face, and when I opened my mouth to say something, nothing came out. I shook my head and refilled his cup from the pot in my hand.
“You have never let anyone else behind the counter before.”
“I know.”
A few moments of silence, and then… “We've both been here a really long time.”
“I know.”
I hazarded a glance at Couch, and he was staring at the door across the café. Apparently catching himself, he looked over at me and gave a rueful smile. “Maybe one day, eh?”
He smirked, but I saw the pain in his eyes, and realized it wasn't just my own fear that had kept me from walking through that door. Couch was the patron I'd served the longest. How could I leave him behind? He was still trapped, unable to go back to Life and unable to pass through the other door.
A good while later, I began another circuit of the cafe, this time starting with my newest patron.
“Hi Julie, how are you doing?” I asked the quiet soul.
She looked up at me with a sad expression, but she was no longer crying and managed the ghost of a smile when she saw me. “I'm… better, I guess,” she said listlessly.
It wasn't often I'd had patrons with memory issues come through, but I had a feeling I knew what was bothering her. “You seem like you're… not sure of or waiting for something,” I started. “If I may ask, are you afraid you're stuck here?”
She looked at me and hesitated. “Well… yes and no,” she replied. “Yes I'm afraid I'm stuck here, but only because I don't know where I'm supposed to go.”
I nodded in understanding. “Where were you hoping to go?” I asked gently.
“Heaven,” came the immediate answer. “And now I'm afraid my God has forsaken me.” She burst into tears again, and I broke my own protocol to touch her hand gently and get her attention.
“That's not what's going on, Julie, I promise,” I said earnestly. Something in my voice must have gotten through to her, because she looked up at me through tear-filled eyes.
“The fact that you're here right now doesn't mean you won't end up where you were hoping to,” I explained. “Like I said before, this is an in-between spot; a stopping point on your journey. Think of it kind of like purgatory, but you're not required to be here for any length of time before moving on.”
I pointed to the door at the other end of the café. “That is the door to Death’s domain, and the beginning of your afterlife. I have no idea what awaits you on the other side, but you are welcome to go through it whenever you're ready, whether that's in five minutes or five days or five years.”
“But… there are no clocks here,” Julie replied.
I couldn't help but chuckle. “True. Time is somewhat meaningless here. But the point is the same; you are welcome here as long as you like, and you are free to leave whenever you're ready.”
“But what if I'm never ready?” she whispered, and her words seemed to go straight to my core.
Did you send me this soul on purpose? I silently asked, my heart in my throat as her words touched my biggest fear since first arriving at the cafe.
Swallowing hard, I felt my body ringing with every word I said.
“Then you stay as long as you need to. No one will force you to leave, unless you are disrespectful of other patrons, as you saw earlier. But I've been here a long time, and I have seen many souls’ fear replaced with weariness, especially the ones who are trapped, like Couch.”
I took a deep breath. “Fear of the unknown is a powerful thing.” Understatement. “But being trapped by fear can be even worse. Don't let fear trap you indefinitely.”
She seemed to muddle over my words, and as I turned away I wondered who I'd actually been speaking to: Julie, or myself?
You can only run from your fear for so long, a voice whispered in my mind.
Shut the fuck up, I told the voice curtly, my eyes drawn unwillingly to the door at the other end of the cafe. Again I wondered what I would find on the other side, and my breath caught as the image of a waveless ocean on a bleak shoreline flashed across my mind.
But you weren't supposed to be there, remember? the voice whispered. Why are you so sure that's what you'll see on the other side?
I shook my head to dispel the thoughts, unsettled by the realization that the voice I was hearing was my own. I looked around as I went through my rounds on autopilot, wondering how many souls I'd seen over the years I'd been here and wondering how many more it would take before I, too, could no longer bear to stay here…
“You look a bit lost in thought.”
The comment startled me out of my reverie, and Sam grimaced. “Sorry, I didn't mean to—”
“No no, it's ok,” I replied, glad for the distraction. “And yes, I'd meandered a bit too far down a particular rabbit hole.” I glanced at Sam's cup, which was still half full, and looked at his plate.
“I'm fine,” he chuckled, “but you seem like you might need someone to look after you for a change.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you been listening to Couch?” I couldn't help but ask. “No. Should I be?” he asked, looking like he was at least half in earnest to approach the other soul.
“He'd tell you yes,” I laughed. “But I promise, I'm fine. Just lost in thought.”
This time the raised eyebrow was directed at me.
“I'm fine!” I said again, throwing my hands up and laughing. “And I have baking to get back to.”
As I took my place behind the counter, Sam glanced around and did a double take before sitting back down. “Wait a minute… there's fewer people in here. No, not… not fewer, but they're not all the same either…”
He looked at the door to Life, then the door to Death, and said, “There's no bell above the other door!”
“No, there isn't,” I replied in confirmation. “No one wants an audience for one of their most vulnerable moments.” I settled into the motions of measuring and stirring and kneading as I made different baked goods to replenish what had been given out, and the occasional soul drifted over to ask what had happened with the hostile soul or to make sure I was ok.
“Do I have a rain cloud or something?” I asked with a rueful grin as yet another soul said they hoped I was ok. “You'd think I was made of glass or something.”
“Well, you said you're human just like the rest of us,” Sam commented. “Are you really that surprised that others might show you the same compassion you give so freely?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Now I'm sure you've been talking to Couch,” I muttered, stirring more vigorously.
He chuckled in response. “Now I'm thinking I should,” Sam laughed. “Try not to punish the baked goods too much.”
I grumbled and focused on what I was doing. I really was ok. It wasn't like I'd been looking at the door more often or anything, wondering what was on the other side…
Stop it, I told myself. I'm not ready to go through it yet. So just stop.
