“I don’t think they’re missing anything.”
Jerking my head to make eye contact with him, I squinted. “Why would you say that? Unless you know what it is but you’re just not telling anyone. And if that is the case, I’m going to be so damn pissed off at you for letting me go through all of this unknown, thinking the worst, angry at doctors, and praying to a God I don’t believe in about a problem I can’t define.”
After rubbing his lips together for several seconds, he shifted his blank stare to the window, blinking a few times at the new round of snow swirling in the air. “It’s hard to explain.”
I grunted a laugh, shaking my head while running my fingers through my hair. “Well, you need to try to explain it to me because I can’t keep myself from completely unraveling without any explanation.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you remember when I told you that I had something happen to me when I was younger? It affected my speech for a while, and kids made fun of me?”
It was shortly after we met. The day after the Va-ness-uh karaoke incident. Years later, I still remembered how insane and insecure I felt that night. Not a finer moment of mine. With a slight cringe, I nodded.
“What happened to me was quite significant.”
How did I not ask him more about it at the time? Oh, right … I was drowning in my own embarrassment and insecurity.
“What happened?”
“My uncle was remodeling his house. We stopped by to visit him. The adults talked, except mom. She stayed busy keeping an eye on Julien. I decided to snoop around a bit. I honestly don’t remember much after that, but apparently, I came across some exposed wires that were live. I was electrocuted.”
“Yes.” I took his hand and turned it over to rub my thumb along the scar on his hand. “But you got better.”
“I did. Eventually.” He curled his hand into a fist, flexing it several times. “That day … my heart stopped beating.”
“Roe …” I whispered as a chill slithered along my spine. “Why are you just now telling me this?”
He relaxed his hand, face expressionless. Eyes vacant.
“My uncle performed CPR until the paramedics arrived. They were gravely worried that I would have severe brain damage because it took so long to get my heart beating on its own again—it took the paramedics a long time to get there. As a result of the accident, I had speech issues for many months.”
“But you got better.” That was my line, and I would repeat it a million times if that made it a fact.
“Sort of …” He wouldn’t look at me. Something outside or years away from that moment held his attention.
“You don’t think so?” I cocked my head to the side. “You think your heart issues stem from that accident? Do you think it’s possible it damaged your heart or its electrical system somehow?”
“No.”
I froze, opening my mouth to say … what? I didn’t know. No. How could he say no? It made the most sense. “Then what’s your point? What’s the connection?”
“It’s funny…” he rubbed his temples a few times, inching his gaze to mine “…you don’t believe in God, but you’re open to the idea of parallel universes.”
“Well …” I said slowly. “One is based on faith, and the other is based on scientific probability. But if it matters, every time you get sick, I pray. At the hospital, I prayed for you and Lila. I like the idea of God even if I can’t wrap my head around it. What does this have to do with you and your heart?”
“Unexplainable phenomena and unprovable ideologies.” His eyes searched mine. For what? I didn’t know, maybe a flinch of disbelief or a glimmer of understanding.
I neither understood nor disbelieved. But unexplainable phenomena was a pretty weighty thing to throw out there—and an unacceptable answer to my question. What did it have to do with his heart?
I shook my head. “Stop spoon-feeding this to me, Ronin. Just say it. Your ambiguity scares me.”
“I had a near-death experience.”
That qualified as an unexplainable phenomenon. It also earned us a few minutes of silence, a few more minutes for him to gauge my reaction.
I didn’t give him anything. It explained his resistance to tell me, but not its impact on his heart. “So … like going toward the light?”
“I don’t recall a light. Just a voice.”
“Maybe it was one of the paramedics or the doctors at the hospital.”
“No.” He shook his head without a blink of hesitation.
“Okay. What did the voice say?”
“It said I was safe. I said I didn’t want to be safe.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I’ve always dreamed of being a superhero.” Ronin grinned, eyes trained to his hand rubbing slow strokes along his leg.
It wasn’t his best grin. I could tell he wasn’t feeling his best. Still, it was something, and I needed something. “You have?” When I thought I couldn’t possibly love him more … there I was, loving him more. “How did I not know this about you?”
He lifted a single shoulder. “It stops sounding cool once you’re an adult.”
“What did the voice reply?”
“It asked why? I said I wanted to save lives.”
“You’re my superhero. And you’re definitely Lila’s.”
“Maybe.” He frowned. “But it comes with a price.”
“Your heart issues?”
“Not exactly. More like extreme empathy. The voice restored my heartbeat, but only after I agreed.”
“Agreed to what?”
“It’s hard to explain. Not necessarily a proverb, more like an unspoken law of nature. Honestly, it feels more like a curse. I was twelve. The words meant nothing. The choice to live meant everything. So I agreed.”
“Do you remember it? The proverb or curse?”
“Yeah. It said, ‘Hinder not the soul’s intended path unto the light, lest shards of darkness shed upon thee.’”
The kitchen faucet dripped. I hadn’t noticed it before. A lot of sounds came to life between Ronin’s proverb and my inability to respond. The tarp covering the woodpile whipped in the wind, clapping against the side of the house.
Creaks from the logs bending like the joints of a ninety-year-old.
The howl of the wind carrying smoke out of the chimney.
“You think I’m crazy?”
That wasn’t the word. Not crazy. We’d spent five years together. I’d seen his crazy, and he had seen mine.
“No. Science doesn’t know a lot about near-death experiences. And when they think they have an explanation for one near-death experience, there are ten other cases defying that explanation. Clearly, it’s not something that can easily be studied. It’s frowned upon to purposely take a human to the edge of death, push them over, and then try to resuscitate them to test their out-of-body perception.” When all else failed, I wore my geek hat and droned on like the world’s most boring professor.
“That didn’t answer my question.” Ronin frowned.
“I did answer it. No. I don’t think you’re crazy. I just don’t understand what this means.” I closed my eyes, rubbing them with my fingers while forcing a breath through my nose.