I'm Ready

 “You’re not ready,” he said to her. He was tall and slender and had the handsome features that one would think only existed on oil paintings of medieval nobility.

“I am so ready,” Tricia responded. She had no idea who this man was but the feeling in her gut is telling her otherwise. Trusting in him just felt as natural as conversation.

“You don’t even know what it is you’re meant to be ready for.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m ready.”

“You’re not.”

“What’s your deal, anyway?”

“I’m just here to tell you when you’re ready and to tell you what to do afterwards.”

“Afterwards? After what?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not ready yet,” they say in unison.

“Is it because I’m a girl?” Tricia asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Is that why you don’t think I’m ready, because I’m a girl?”

“Don’t be absurd! I know you’re not ready and being a girl or not has absolutely nothing to do with it!”

“Is it because of my age?”

“It is not because of your age.”

“Then what is it?”

“Once you’re ready to know, then you will know.”

“Where are we?”

“Don’t you know?”

“I’m going to take that as an ‘I don’t know.’”

“I know precisely where we are but I need to know if you do.”

“Should I? I mean—” Tricia stopped and looked around. She took a deep breath as if that gulp of air was somehow more familiar than the others she had taken since meeting this mysterious figure. “It’s familiar. But…”

“But?”

“I can’t quite remember,” Tricia shivered, “That’s strange. A chill just ran up my spine. Did you feel that?”

“I can’t say that I did. Are you afraid of something?”

“It’s not that kind of chill. It’s almost as if it were nighttime during the winter. But I can see the sun. I can feel it beating down on my skin and yet for an instant I felt cold. It’s odd.”

“So you don’t remember how you got here? How about where you came from?”

“No…” she walked down the street and looked down either end of it. There wasn’t a single car or person in sight. Curious, she attempted to cross the street but before the sole of her shoe could touch the asphalt the mysterious man asked her a question.

“You’re not ready. But you’re nearly there.”

“To cross the street? Man, I’ve been crossing streets for years. I hardly think I need your approval of my street-crossing abilities!”

“Where did you come from to get to this point?”

Tricia’s eyes darted back and forth. Her shoe came back onto the sidewalk as she walked back to the grass where she was just standing moments ago. A great joy overcame her. She smiled. She wanted to hide it but it was too late. It was just plastered on her face and her eyes welled with tears but she had no idea why.

“Why am I so happy all of a sudden? This doesn’t make any sense!”

“You tell me. Why are you so happy? What’s running through your mind this very instant?”

“The sun. I can feel it beating down on my skin…”

“You’ve just said that.”

“No, this is different. This is so very different. It’s shining in my eyes. My older sister is playing with me. I’m a baby. Oh, my God! Our first trip! I’m remembering our first trip!”

“What first trip?”

“My dad, my mom, my sister and me would take these camping trips each summer. We started going when my sister was 5 and when I was 2. Every year we would go camping just before school started. It’s so vivid, like I’m there all over again. What’s happening?”

“You’re getting ready.”

“Getting ready for what?”

“Concentrate. You’re nearly there.”

“Wait,” Tricia could feel another memory stirring. Her head felt as if it were no longer her own until she closed her eyes. She felt herself settling into a memory, her latest memory. “I’m in—”

“No,” he stopped her, “You’re nearly there. This is for you and you alone to experience.”

Eyes still closed, Tricia sat down in the grass but could swear she could feel the vinyl fabric of the car seat beneath her. She could feel the seat belt strapped across her and the car gently bounce as her rambunctious older sister bounced beside her in the back seat. Why didn’t I remember this earlier, she thought to herself. She could feel the heat emanating from the window. It was summer but the blasting air conditioning of the car was quick to remind her it was only summer outside. Tricia could feel the deep furrows in her eyebrows. She remembered. She remembered that this was her last camping trip. She didn’t want to be there.

It had been close to fifteen years of camping trips. She had started a new life of sorts in high school with new friends, a new look, a new attitude. Tricia was barely the Tricia of old. Her older sister was finally off to college, returning only for this one last camping trip since the previous year was spent touring campuses. The memory of her parents seemed so real but she couldn’t see their faces. They never looked at the back anymore, why would they? Maybe she was mad at her parents for making her go when she wanted to spend the last days of summer vacation with friends. Or maybe she was mad at her sister for having fun on what would possibly the last time they would have a trip like this. Maybe it was the last time they would be sisters. But in all likelihood it’s all of the above.

It was loud. When that other car veered onto oncoming traffic that was the one memory that Tricia remembered the most. There was a loud crashing sound. The sickening crackle of breaking glass permeated crunching of metal upon metal. And just barely, Tricia could hear and even smell burning rubber. She opened her eyes with a start. When her vision adjusted to the bright light she saw the stranger looking at her, hand outstretched.

“My sister! My parents!” Tricia exclaimed.

“It’s only you that’s here.”

“But I didn’t get to say—”

“Most people don’t. And that’s not my job.”

“Are they going to miss me?”

“More than you can possibly imagine.”

“I’m really going to miss them.”

“You can come down every so often if the separation becomes too much. I’ll escort you myself the first few times.”

“Will they be ok?”

“That’s really up to them. It’ll tear them apart as these things do. It’s up to them to work at being a family again, to put the shattered pieces back together.”

“But I still won’t be there.”

“I’m sorry. Would you like to see them?”

“Not right now. Just… I think it’s time to go.”

“It’s time to go where?”

“You know exactly where. I’m ready.”