- he said, wiping away a red smear from his forehead.
- I thought, - she answered, her steps quiet from behind, - you wouldn’t have to find out this information for a couple more years.
Jack stopped breathing. He turned around, as fast as he could, and met eye to eye with a person he had forgotten long ago.
- Mom.
Word came out crooked, quiet, not as soft as he had hoped for. He stepped from one foot to another, suddenly not knowing what to do with his hands. He should be running to her, embracing a woman he loved when he was five and hated when he was fourteen (as most teens do), but Jack found himself frozen on the spot. No angelic music, no freedom, no majestic light. She patiently stood there.
- I am not sure what to say, - he finally said, looking down.
- It’s ok. I didn’t either.
- Dad, and Lila, and Gran, they are still there. I just, I, - he looked around, his eyes suddenly irritated. Is it possible cry in Heaven?
- It’s fine. - she stepped closer. - They will be ok.
Jack doubted that, but breathed in and out, calming himself.
- Come, b-bunny, - she stumbled on a word, probably figuring out that calling a middle-age man “bunny” after thirty years was not the best thing to do. Seconds later in the complete whiteness of everything a low table and two chairs appeared. As they sat down, Jack hoped that chair won’t disappear under him, but, even looking etheraly, it was hard and cold under his hands and legs.
- How did it happen? To me, i mean, i don’t really... - he finally asked, sadness between them.
- You attacked the officer, you should have known better.
- He did it first!
- Not to you.
- So, you’re saying, i should have sat there and watch my black friends die over a peaceful protest? - his hands curled into fists. She just signed.
- I’m not sorry. - Jacked said louder. Silence continued, sitting between them as a third person, the one who was not invited to the party but still came, with drinks and cake and balloons.
- You would have met your wife a year later.
- What?
- She is studying law. You would have met her on the court case against transvestites and lesbians violence.
- It’s LGBTQ now, mom.
- Sure, - she smiled, first time since their meeting minutes earlier. - You would have had four kids. One named after me. Her wish, actually.
- And now?
- I don’t know. We have a book, where everything is written down - every choice, every moment of future.
He looked at her, trying to read something she wasn’t saying.
- Your death changed it. Not just your, everyone who died today trying to help those guys. There was a whole mess, angels are.. not happy about that.
- Is it a bad thing?
- I don’t know.
- God, they are alone there. And Dad, oh, I, - realization crawled into his mind with it’s little freezing legs. - Are they going to be ok?
- I don’t know.
- What do you know? - he almost screamed. - One moment I am fighting against that police guy, next - I am here, you are disappointed in me, as always, and apparently i would have had a wife? And kids? What should i do now? I am dead, mom, I haven’t seen you since i was five, and you are telling me I was wrong protecting somebody of a different skin color because our society is rotten, and there is some book, and now it isn’t, and God! What do you know?
She didn’t say anything.
- I did the right thing.
- I hope so too.
- They would have killed him, mom.
- They killed you.
Conversation felt like a game of tennis, flying back and having no sense. Jacked looked around. He was still wearing his morning clothes, blood stains and all, but no pain came from the wounds.
- I thought heaven was peaceful, - he said at the same time his mother spoke: - I am so happy to see you. Somehow, now it was easier to breathe.
- What happens next? - Jack asked, looking around.
- You live here. No aging, no death, you can watch over Dad and everybody.
- I mean back there.
- Oh, - she became quiet again. - I think, you and those guys changed something. The history changed. Angels are not happy. New page and all, they have to learn next hundred years by heart.
- I hope for the better.
- Me too.
They hugged, first time in thirty ears.
Somewhere on Earth a riot became a revolution.
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