Day 164 Reese’s Journal Entry 8: Good Enough for Chamber Music
Something odd happened today. Amber, my Zoë, said something you used to say. We were working the community garden together, planting something — I don’t know what — and Amber said, “good enough for chamber music.” Not ‘good enough for government work’ or ‘good enough for the union’ or the Kingdom or anything like that. Chamber music. And when she said it I looked up and I swear it was you there in that garden. Even her voice sounded like you when she said that. Then I blinked and it was Amber again, a Zoë, and being who has eternal life, who can stand naked in the presence of God. Not an air breathing, food gathering, warm-blooded mammal like us.
I say ‘like us’ because I know you’re going to show up. You’ll awaken in Resurrectorium 1920 tomorrow, or the next day, but you will awaken. And if not in 1920, then another one. 2021 maybe.
Well. I’d better stop. Thinking this way, I feel like I let you down, Helen. Maybe you did awaken in 2021 or in 1819, and they won’t let you leave town, either. I should try again to get to you. I must be developing Stockholm Syndrome.
Day 164: Amber’s Journal Entry 2: Good Enough for Chamber Music
Reese doesn’t know me as Helen, and I can’t tell him. I want to so badly. I want to tell him that his Zoë Amber is, or was, his Helen. It pains me, and pain is something I thought I would never know again. Pain is something I wouldn’t know but for him. My Lord, I long to be in your presence where there isn’t any pain, in heaven again. I still remember meeting you there. Letting go of my life was only difficult because of Reese. I moved and breathed and lived in pain and was so ready to let go of my body, of life as I knew it. When I couldn’t hold on any longer and came to you…I remember each moment as if it was etched into my being…
Reese looked at me for a second like he knew me as Helen. I said something about chamber music that touched a memory in him and I saw his face light up bright as a star then it went dark and he looked at me as I am now. He saw his Zoë, Amber, whom he seems to like at times and treats as a jailor other times.
It hurt. I’ve been thinking about what my Lord said to me: Be wise. Reese is too focused on Helen, on the life he once led. He is not focused on others. The Lord was right, of course. That is the basic flaw that Reese brought back with him, a form of self-centeredness that even when he was pouring all kinds of love out on me, right up to the minute I died, he was doing it to protect himself from loneliness, to secure my love, afraid that without all his efforts I might take my love from him. Nothing I said to the contrary was able to get through to him. It was why he returned as a Bio.
And in some ways, this extended separation now is continuing that. He’s so fixed on Helen’s return that he can insult or ignore Amber, and not only me, but his neighbors. He got fired from his job translating. I suppose as a driver he’ll be fine. But he’s not engaging as many people that way, not in a way that can break through and make him start to live for other people.
So I wait. I am surprised to find part of me wants to be Helen for him again. Show him the ‘me’ he remembers. Love him again because he is so lonely. But that would be like spraying a fixative on the rough sketch of his spirit: He would never grow the way he needs to in order to become a Zoë. That’s why he’s here. That’s why they’re all here. The God of Second Chances. He may be the God of a Thousand Chances — that is beyond my knowing. How many do I give Reese? How long do I leave him to grow on his own like a seedling? I always killed my plants by overwatering. Lord, let me not do that now.