Bump and Grind Chapter One: The Cataclysmic Break
Welcome to chapter one of Bump and Grind. If you’d like to listen, rather than read, scroll to the bottom of the page.
Dying felt like skinny-dipping in a deep August lake. Warm and wet, floating in a silence that was sweeter than a lover’s whisper.
In the moments before I crashed, I’d been listening to the oldies radio station, singing a campy calypso song to stay awake. The bright orange sparks flying over the hood of my car looked pretty—until I fully woke up and realized what they meant. I grabbed the wheel and veered away from the guardrail.
The car spun out of control, the speed too great and the rain-soaked road too slick for my maneuvering. The last thing I saw was the tree line on the other side of the deserted highway, a shadowy army of trunks exposed by the headlights. I heard a bang like a pistol shot and was blinded by the stark white of the airbag. That was it.
“I am here, but I’m going to take you back.”
A woman’s voice penetrated the delicious void. My body was weightless and free in the velvet calm of the weirdly intangible space that was death. The stars overhead, more than I’d ever seen, swirled slowly, pulsing with light as if they were breathing. Even though I knew I was dead, everything was perfect. There was no way in hell I was going anywhere.
“Karen, you are not alone.”
For the brief period in my teens when I’d believed in God, I was sure She was a woman. Now I had proof. She sounded an awful lot like Emma Watson.
“You have to go back. This isn’t your time.”
How disappointing. I’d have to face up to my stupid decisions. I’d probably traumatized my mom, my friends.
“Why?” I tried not to whine. Blessed are the meek and all that.
“Because we need you. I’m here to give you something special, and we need you to make use of this gift.”
My disembodied soul rolled its third eye.
“I’m too tired.”
“We know this is difficult, but you don’t have a choice. When it’s actually your time to die, you won’t have a choice about that either.”
I felt a heat rising from within, like searing metal on bare flesh. Pain was a memory, but I recoiled all the same.
“Let it in, Karen. This is our gift to you.”
Our gift?
The black velvet shroud of death was pulled away, and a cool radiance shimmered in its place. As the blue light grew in intensity, it swirled into a tunnel. I thought the light was supposed to be white.
More than anything, I wanted to stay in the uncomplicated safety of this nowhere place filled with stars. Here, I’d never have to tell anyone I shouldn’t have been driving.
“It’s time for you to go, Karen.”
Familiar sounds trickled into the tunnel from the other side. People talking. Medical jargon. Music. The soundtrack of my life before I died. I recognized “Stairway to Heaven” finding its way in from the land of the living. God had a sense of humor. She was also a Zeppelin fan. Maybe I could be religious after all.
I didn’t have a choice, so I embraced the cliché and went toward the light. I did my part, but it took a long-ass time for God to make good on Her promise.
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Three Years Later
The sunlight blazed through my bedroom window, making it a struggle to open my eyes. My cat, Bojangles,