Cannot Wait to Get to Heaven - Fannie Flagg [90]
Macky was startled awake. “What? What are you talking about?”
“‘Life Is What You Make It.’ Remember?” Then she sang, “‘Life is what you make it, if you can take it, it’s worth a try.’”
Macky reached over, turned on the light, and looked at her. “Norma, have you lost your mind?”
“No, just listen to the lyrics, Macky.” And she continued singing, “‘Smile the world is sunny…your Easter bunny…when even sad turns to funny.’ Don’t you remember it?”
“No, I don’t remember. For God’s sake, Norma, it’s three o’clock in the morning.”
“Well, I do. Linda had the record and used to play it all the time. Aunt Elner is channeling an old Johnny Mathis song. And Sonny is the name of her cat. Don’t you see? And the crystal stairs? That’s right out of her gospel song. She dreamed the whole thing, Macky. She no more went to heaven than I did!”
“I told you that yesterday. Now go to sleep.”
Macky turned off the light, and Norma lay back, relieved she had finally figured out why it had sounded so familiar to her. Then a few seconds later an unexpected wave of sadness hit her when she realized that Aunt Elner’s trip to heaven had just been a dream. It had not been a sign, a wonder, or a miracle, after all. That tiny little glimmer of hope had been dashed. Now she was right back where she’d started two days ago and her old doubts came creeping in again. She felt scared and all alone in the universe without a purpose again, and tomorrow would be just another day, just another twenty-four uneasy hours to try to get through. As she lay there, tears ran down her face, and she realized that maybe Macky was right after all, and people were nothing more than an accident caused by spontaneous generation started millions of years ago. We were all just a bunch of tadpoles that had crawled out of the water and started walking around, and yet, she still hated to think that when we died we would just fall into a black hole and disappear into nothing. What would be the point of living? With her anxiety she desperately needed to believe that at least some small part of her would continue on, and if there was no heaven…Maybe she would start trying to believe in reincarnation like Irene Goodnight. Irene had sworn on the Bible that her Pekinese dog Ling-Ling was her late husband, Ralph, come back to haunt her. She said they snored exactly alike and had the same way of looking at her. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was something at least. Then another thought hit Norma. If there was such a thing as reincarnation, and she did come back, she just hoped to God she wouldn’t wind up in a third world country, where she couldn’t get fresh produce, or have access to good skin products, because if she couldn’t get her Merle Norman cold cream, she would just rather not come back at all. She reached over and got a Kleenex, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and went back to sleep.
The Report
7:00 AM
Early the next morning, Franklin Pixton sat and listened to the entire report. No machine malfunction. All the attending nurses in ER depositions corroborated Dr. Henson’s testimony. Every fact had been checked and rechecked. According to all legal and medical requirements, the woman had been for all intents and purposes clinically dead. Franklin sniffed and adjusted his glasses. “So, Dr. Gulbranson, what is your official explanation?”
Dr. Gulbranson looked up. “Damned if I know, Franklin. I’d have to say it was just a fluke.”
Franklin slowly turned his chair around and looked out the window. “A fluke? I see. So I am to tell the head of my board that she was officially dead, and the fact that she sat up and started talking several hours later was a fluke. Or should I get up and sing three choruses of ‘It was just one of those things’? Which would you suggest?”
Dr. Gulbranson shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, Franklin. Sometimes things just can’t be explained.”
The Unexplained
The very first day Elner had been brought to the hospital, La Shawnda McWilliams, a heavyset woman with freckles and skin the color of coffee with cream,