9/14/10

See You Soon, Sarah
By Michael A. Kechula


Sarah’s funeral was the first I had ever attended. I swore it would be the last.

I nearly blew my brains out so I could join her. I’m not sure what stopped me.

Tense, restless, despondent, I boarded a flight back to California. I tried to get comfortable in a seat that guaranteed discomfort. Placed next to a window, I glanced out once at the Eastern part of the continent in the grip of winter. Everything looked so bland, so dead. I couldn’t bear to look a second time.

A woman sat next to me, a man to her left. Glancing at her wedding band reminded me that I’d never get the chance to slide one on Sarah’s finger.

They talked loudly, and their pleasant conversation unnerved me. Fortunately, they didn’t try to include me.

Suspended in the middle of nowhere, sitting in that long tube called a cabin, I realized that all that stood between me and the hostile, freezing world were a couple inches of metal. The sudden realization of flying threw my mind back to the day when Sarah left the San Francisco airport—the last time I saw her alive. My imagination showed her plane lifting off the runway, and then coming apart. I shivered, trying to force from my mind the horrible image of the wing falling off.

A muscle twitched in my right calf, as if I should run to help her. Dammit! There was nothing I could’ve done. I cursed the plane that killed my future wife.

I dropped my head into my hands. Never did I feel so thoroughly depleted. A good night’s rest would help, but I was uncertain if rest would ever find me.

Something inside had changed. Nothing seemed certain, except the fact that I was trapped within a metal cylinder, hurtling through space at 600 miles an hour.

The attendant dropped a snack in front of me. Though I had no appetite, I tasted it, then wolfed it down. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I’d eaten a decent meal.

The woman next to me noticed. Offering hers, she breached the gap that separated our shoulders. Nodding, I tried my best to smile, but failed miserably.

“Nice, smooth flight, isn’t it?” she asked.

I don’t know why I answered, “Yes, it’s very smooth.”


“Visiting relatives, were you?” The guy next to her asked.

“You might say that.”

“Oh, how nice. Visited your parents. For Christmas I’ll bet.”

“No, not my parents. They could’ve been though. I mean, they could have been my mother-in-law and father-in-law. But all that’s changed now.”

“Oh, what a shame,” the woman said. “Your fiancé broke up with you, and over the Holidays too. I’m so sorry to hear that. Isn’t that a shame, Harry?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry to hear that.”

“Well, there’s lots of fish in the ocean,” she said. “Maybe you just had a spat, and soon you’ll be back together again.”

“It isn’t that simple. We buried her two days ago.”

Apologetic statements gushed forth. Then they shut up for the rest of the trip.

I looked out the window again. The ground looked dead. Why was everything so lifeless? Why did everything below die or go dormant for so long? Why did Sarah have to die and remain dormant for so long? Come Spring, the trees, the grass, the flowers would resurrect. But there’d be no resurrection for Sarah.

Entering clouds, I could no longer see the pallid earth. Pressing my cheek against the cold window, I thought of Sarah’s cheek pressed against the frozen satin lining of her casket below frozen ground. But just as quickly, I dismissed the horrid thought. She wasn’t even there. She was spared that. She’d melted in the intense heat. Nothing was left of her. Not even a bone fragment.

Nobody on the plane even knew she’d existed, much less that she existed no longer. What a sad thought. They’d never know her, hear her voice, see her face. But I’d seen her face, heard her voice, touched her lips. Those memories were forever branded on my brain.

I tried to visualize her face, her smile, but her image wouldn’t form. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t picture the details of her face. My God! Heart pounding, I flipped my wallet open. There she was, smiling. I stared at her photo, then closed my eyes to ensure I could see her clearly in my mind’s eye. I did. Thank God.


An awful truth dawned. I was separated from Sarah forever. Never again would she caress my hand, or press close to me. Never would we marry. Never...never...never!

I wanted to scream. I grabbed the Valium Sarah’s mom had given me. I was unsure if I could last long enough for it to take effect. Gripping the arms of my seat, I kept yelling in my head, “Take hold! Take hold!”

My mind became hazy. Closing my eyes, I saw Sarah running through fields of golden poppies, hair billowing in Spring breezes. She laughed as I tripped and rolled down part of the hill, getting muddy. She ran down the hill to kiss me.

Then I saw my hand reaching for a pistol. The thought was peaceful, comfortable, beautiful. I’d wait for Spring and the golden poppies. I’d roll down the hill and get muddy. Then I’d join Sarah to hear her laugh and watch her run down the hill to kiss me.


- - -
BIO: Michael A. Kechula's flash fiction has published by 126 magazines and 35 anthologies in 6 countries. He's authored two collections of flash fiction tales: "A Full Deck of Zombies - 61 Speculative Fiction Tales" and "The Area 51 Option and 70 More Speculative Fiction Tales."