Lionel had this recurring dream, starting from the morning of April 28 that continued on until the day he died. He could almost say that he had the same dream before April 28, but it wasn't as rich, and the few times he had dreamed it before that morning, he had never had the full dream, only snippets. He used to only see flashes of bright light, a field with no one around, and grass swaying in the wind.
After Reece called his name and beckoned him to come closer, he found that he couldn't. His feet were firmly planted in the dirt. The golden light that shone on her was farther away, so that he didn't have it where he stood. When he tried to walk towards her, something shoved against him and knocked him down. He patted his chest, looked around, and when he looked up again, Reece was gone. Her voice, still calling his name, echoed in the wind.
Lionel twisted his lips and stood up. "Reece?" The light hadn't gone away, and since that was where he last saw her, he stepped towards it. The light remained constant with each step he took, and when he stood beneath the glow, he twirled around.
The grass swayed in the wind, gently brushing against his knees. Around him, for miles, there was nothing but waves of grass and wildflowers at the edge of a grove of trees. He glanced over his shoulder, at the place he had once stood, and he couldn't see it anymore. No patch of dirt. Nothing except the field and the light.
Sit and rest.
Lionel did as the voice asked, drawing his knees up to his chest. Music stirred in his soul, not enough to get him dancing to the music; his ears strained to hear it, to hear the rhythm that beat inside his chest, but there was nothing but the whisper of the grass.
He could feel trumpets, could feel the strings of a harp against his fingers. Closing his eyes, he laid down in the grass and turned his face to the light above him, hoping that it was enough to hear the music, the beautiful music that beat in his soul.
The light felt like an embrace. On the breath of the wind, he could catch Reece's voice, could hear Daddy's belly laugh. Behind his eyelids, he saw Mama leading Ronnie and Talia in a dance, jumping over sparks of light. There was nothing to be concerned about; it was not fire, it was brilliance, life, light. Mama shook her head and looked over to Daddy, whose hand trailed over her shoulder while she spun with the two younger kids. Clarice smiled and lifted her hands to her mouth, eyes still wrinkled in a smile.
Lionel sighed in contentment. He never wanted to leave this field.
Call on Me.
Lionel lifted his hand to the light, and he touched heaven.
When he opened his eyes, Lionel stretched and rolled onto his back, away from André, who continued to snore away. This morning, or this afternoon, he was going to find one of his family members – preferably Reece – and tell them about his secret, that he wasn't a Christian, but he wanted to change that right now.
But that would have to wait until after he dealt with the ringing landline.
He groaned and slipped out of bed, trudging up the basement steps in his bare feet. The air conditioning was cold upon his back, and he shivered, scrunching his shoulders against his ears as the chill raced up his spine.
Usually, he didn't walk around the house in only his boxers, but the phone was still ringing, and besides, he wanted a head start on breakfast this morning. His dad always threatened to eat all the eggs and bacon on Saturday mornings, and Lionel was dang tired of having to accept the offer of two slices of bacon and whatever eggs were left. He loved sleeping in as late as he physically could, don't get him wrong, but he also loved eating, and sometimes, he loved eating more than sleep.
Once he reached the landing of the first floor, he scratched his shoulder and shuffled towards the phone. It had stopped ringing briefly as he was halfway up the stairs, but after a few seconds, it resumed.
Lionel glanced at the key hanger and saw the keys to his mom's car still hanging. He frowned. Odd, he thought.
Keys or no keys, the phone was about to stop ringing, so he picked it up and yawned into his fist. "Washington residence."
"Um…who's this?" The girl on the other side sounded out of breath.
Lionel pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it suspiciously. "Um, you're the one calling, I should be asking you that."
The girl sighed, and he thought he heard her breath catch. "I'm Vicki Byrne. I knew Clarice."
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, about to tell Vicki that Reece was just at work this morning, but then he heard her thick voice that sounded way too much like she had been crying. He grabbed a barstool and sat on it. "What's wrong? Is Reece okay?" His own voice shook, though it was stronger than he had ever expected it to be.
"It's– I'm not entirely sure, I just woke up, like, half an hour ago, and everything's just gone to shit, and I really have no clue what's going on, and I'm not even sure she's there, but I figured someone she knew would know what's going on, and I just, I have no idea and I'm really– this is all really, really scary –"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Vicki, take a breath," he said, talking over her. "Now, what's wrong?"
"Uh…" Vicki sighed, and he drummed his fingers against the countertop. "You don't know?"
"Know what? What is there to know? Is Reece okay? Is she hurt?" Lionel grabbed the towel lying on the countertop and twisted it in his fingers.
"She's not…I don't know…"
"Just tell me!"
"Go check out the news!"
Lionel slammed his fist against the countertop. "I need to know! She's my big sister, and if something happened to her –"
"She's gone, alright?! She's disappeared, just like billions of other people, just like every little kid!" Vicki choked on a sob. "People are missing."
The phone fell from his fingers and clattered against the floor.
(He still couldn't hear the music from that field, but he knew it was there. He could see everyone dancing to the beautiful music.
He couldn't hear it, but he knew it.
It was the trumpet call, and he hadn't heard a note of it.)
"Oh, God," he whispered, rooted to the barstool. Over the counter, he could see into the living room, and he could see the sleeve of his father's robe against the armrest of Daddy's favorite chair. "I missed it." His fingers started shaking. "I missed it."
Slowly, he pushed himself out of the barstool and crept towards Daddy's favorite chair.
That robe would condemn him or save him. That robe would tell him if there was someone around to allow him to hear the trumpet call or if he missed it altogether.
He didn't need the robe; he was left behind, and so was André.
Lionel had figured that if he stayed on this path of self-destruction, of lying and ducking his head and remaining untreated for his anxiety and depression, he would wake up one day, and he would be in the same boat as André, they would both be staring down the same path.
He just didn't figure it would happen so soon.
His heart pounded in his throat as he came closer to that chair. Daddy's pajamas sat against the chair, almost like he was still in them, except they were missing the most important part, they were missing Daddy, who always slept in this chair with his head against the back, mouth open, drool dribbling down his chin. The pajamas were missing the man who would wake up with a crick in his neck, who would pout and plead with his wife for a few extra slices of bacon and fried potatoes because he was seriously injured, and he would try and kiss Mama, but she would just laugh and touch her finger to the tip of his nose.
Daddy wasn't in those pajamas, and that could only mean one thing.
His hands shook. They started shaking a few minutes ago, but they were shaking even more now, worse than they did before his finals, worse than they did before he met Dr. Swells. He held his breath, even though he knew that it wouldn't do anything, even though he knew that he and André were the only ones left in the entire Washington-Dupree family.
Lionel's chin trembled as he reached for Daddy's hearing aid, the hearing aid that matched his skin color so well that only his family knew that he was hard of hearing in his left ear. His lips trembled as he saw Daddy's wedding ring lying on the floor.
It did not deserve to be there.
He needed to scream, but when he opened his mouth, he could barely breathe, let alone scream. "Daddy?" he said hoarsely instead, touching his trembling fingers to his father's robe sleeves. No one was in there.
When Lionel lived in the ghetto, he had seen police officers force criminals to their knees with their batons. The criminals would go down almost immediately, gritting their teeth against the pain. He was always more scared for the officers than he was for himself when he saw this happen, because if the police officers were killed, it was down to Daddy to protect them, and Lionel had never seen Daddy hold his gun before.
(Dad wasn't here to wave his gun around anymore.)
So finding his father's pajamas, left without a person inside, forced Lionel to his knees as if a police officer had hit him with their baton. He fisted his fingers in the sleeves of his father's robe, and tears streamed down his face, hot and salty, and nothing in the world could stop them.
(He had seen heaven. He had heard Reece calling his name. Maybe there was enough time last night, as the trumpet blew, when he could have prayed and been caught up with them.
He had seen heaven, and he had kept sleeping. He had touched heaven, and he was still left behind.
Lionel Washington had his opportunity, and he had missed it.)
Mama was gone, Lionel knew, and so was Reece and Ronnie and Talia.
He pounded his fist against the armrest. "Dammit!" he screamed. "Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit!" Wheezing, Lionel lifted his face to the sky. "You couldn't have given me another day? You couldn't have told me, 'Hey, go talk to your sister or dad or mom before you go to sleep?' You couldn't have done that for me?" He hung his head in shame and gasped past his tears. "I'm sorry, God," he said, pressing his fingers into his eyes and wiping the tears away. "I didn't mean that. You don't owe me anything." He sniffled. "I- it just h-hurts, You know?"
Lionel grabbed Daddy's wedding ring from the ground and stood up painstakingly. Part of him wanted to get through this as quickly as possible, to confirm whatever fears he had, but another part of him – a much stronger part of him – didn't want to face what he knew was waiting for him.
He would have called Dr. Swells and scheduled an emergency appointment himself, but he knew for a fact Mama had chosen him because Dr. Swells was a Christian, and well…you can figure out the rest.
Lionel tried to wipe the tears away as fast as they came, but they rolled down his cheeks too quickly for him to keep up with them. When he opened the door to Ronnie's room, his vision blurred entirely, his heart squeezing in his chest. He pulled back the covers and found Ronnie's pajamas. No one inside.
His lips quivered, but Lionel quickly wiped his eyes and grabbed the arrowhead necklace he had given Ronnie for his birthday. It had been big on Ronnie – mostly because Lionel himself had wanted it, but Reece wasn't letting him buy something for himself – so Lionel put it on, fingering the cool rock resting against his sternum.
He still had Daddy's wedding ring, and since he didn't have pockets right now, he slipped Daddy's ring onto his thumb, wiped his nose on the back of his hand, and slipped out of Ronnie's room.
Talia's room had more of the same. He grabbed her favorite scrunchie, put it on his wrist, and hurried out of her room before he lost it completely.
(He felt like he was falling apart. He felt like his world was ending, like it was spiraling out of control. But even in the chaos, even as he darted in and out of each bedroom, he heard a whisper in his heart, and in the middle of the hallway, Lionel stopped and buried his head in his hands.
"God," he prayed, "I missed the first one hundred chances I had. But if it's not too late, let me be Yours. Save me now. Use me for Your purpose, and save me. Forgive me.
"God," he prayed, "I missed my chance, but I want to take whatever You're offering now.")
His soul stilled and when he lifted his head from his hands, the tears had dried. Lionel took a breath and pushed open Reece's door.
Reece had a habit of waking up in the middle of the night to read her Bible. Maybe it started when she was talking to a boy, and reading the Bible was the only thing that could calm her down while she waited. Or maybe it was the only thing that wouldn't get her yelled at by Mama and Daddy. Either way, she had adopted the habit of waking up after a restless night and pulling her Bible from her nightstand and turning to whichever book God led her to read.
On Reece's pillow, her Bible was still opened to Psalm 46.
And when his eyes fall upon the words that say, Be still, and know that I am God, Lionel would have thought that he would have broken down, that he would have crumpled to the ground in a fit of tears, that he would make himself sick from crying.
Except it was in that moment that he felt God's hand upon his shoulder and God's voice whisper in his ear, and calm the storm in Lionel's mind. His mind and body stilled, and when he turned away from Reece's room, tears silently streaming down his face, Lionel lifted his chin and pushed open the door to Mama's room.
He could tell she had been praying. She probably prayed for him, probably knew that he wasn't a Christian. Or maybe she didn't know, and she prayed for him to get better with all the therapy. But whatever she was praying for, even if it was a prayer for Jesus to come soon, her pajamas fell against the bed like she had been kneeling, and her wedding ring glinted in the afternoon sun.
Lionel slipped Daddy's wedding ring off his thumb, took Mama's ring from the bed, and placed both of them next to each other on the nightstand.
Together, in life, in death, in heaven.
Lionel really wondered what heaven was like.
He was still crying when he headed back for the basement. Jeans now replaced his boxers, and his favorite shirt swathed his body. He still felt cold, so he grabbed a jacket, zipped it up halfway, and trudged back to the basement.
André, of course, knew nothing of what had happened, and as Lionel took care not to slip down the steps, he wondered if André really wanted to know.
Well, obviously not, no one wanted to know that their entire lives had just been decimated, but Lionel wondered if André would really care. If he would look around and notice that there was only one person left to take care of Lionel, if he would decide to square his shoulders, set his jaw, and step up. If André got his act together, Lionel would gladly go into his arms.
Lionel still had no idea how much money André owed Cornelius and LeRoy, but obviously, it was something that couldn't be remotely covered by a hundred dollars. And, knowing a little about the situation, Lionel figured it was best that André just get as much money as he could from Mama and Daddy's bank account and pay them off, and they could move into an apartment or something that hadn't been touched by fires. Heck, Lionel would even move back to the ghetto, as long as he wasn't alone, as long as he had someone he could call family.
But he knew, deep in his heart, that André wouldn't do it, or more accurately, that he couldn't do it. André didn't have the guts enough to marry his girlfriend of ten years, even though they'd lived together since before Lionel was born. André didn't have guts enough to break it off, instead sleeping around and laying low until he no longer worried about her killing him when he went back to face her.
André was a coward, and Lionel had never respected cowards.
At the base of the stairs, he closed his eyes and huffed a breath out past his lips. Nothing woke André except alcohol and weed and the smell of Mama's cooking. Lionel's screaming upstairs clearly hadn't done anything except make André roll onto his stomach and burrow into the pillow.
Man, screw him. Lionel shook his head and jumped over the back of the couch, sliding down to rip the covers off André's back.
André slept away.
Lionel grit his teeth. "What'll it take for you to wake up?" He slapped his knees, forced himself to get up, and turned on the faucet in the bathroom sink. Grabbing the cup Mama always left down here, Lionel filled it to the brim, shut off the faucet, and threw the cold water onto André's face.
André spluttered and kicked himself up. "What? What? I'll kill ya!"
Lionel tossed the cup aside and wiped his cheeks with the back of his sleeve. "It's just me, Uncle André. We've gotta get up."
André mopped his face with his hand. "I don't smell Lucinda's cooking."
"Well, Mama ain't cooking today or tomorrow or next week. Get over it." He turned his face away from his uncle, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from crying, but despite his best efforts, a tear still slipped down his cheek.
André sighed and reached for Lionel's hand. "What's wrong, little man?"
Lionel yanked his hand away. "Stop calling me that! I ain't some little man, I'm thirteen! Call me by my name!" He swiped at his tears with the edge of his sleeve. "And what's wrong is that Mama and Daddy and Reece and Ronnie and Talia…they're all gone, Uncle André. Every last one of them." He held up his hand before André could interject. "And before you say a damn thing, lemme tell ya something: I saw their clothes. They ain't kidnapped. The Rapture happened, the trumpet calling, whatever the hell you wanna call it."
André's mouth fell open and all color drained from his face as he looked up to the living room.
"All of them are gone and disappeared. I looked around, checked every room. They ain't here, Uncle André. It's just you and me."
Lionel wanted to blame his uncle for all of this, but it was André who told Lionel that he should try and be more like Mama, it was André who said he didn't want Lionel to turn out anything like him. It wasn't André's fault; André hadn't even known about it for twenty-four hours.
A lot can change in one day.
André shook his head. "Tell me it ain't so, kid. Tell me you're lyin'."
Lionel gestured to the entire house. "Would I lie to you about that?"
"You lied about your faith!"
Lionel jabbed his index finger in André's chest. "I didn't lie about that! I never told anyone, but I'm telling you something right now! It's your time to step up."
"Fuck." André pushed himself off the air mattress and ran back up the steps. Lionel rolled his eyes and ran after him.
Once he found Daddy's clothes on the armchair, André's entire body shook. Lionel sat back on the barstool, stopping just long enough to pick up the phone from the ground. He set it on the counter.
André came down from the bedrooms as Lionel was halfway through humming "Amazing Grace." Without stopping to change into some clothes, André just grabbed Daddy's car keys.
"Hey!" Lionel stood abruptly. "Where are you goin' with that? I'm still here!"
André ran a shaking hand over the top of his head. "I can't take care of you, Lionel. Listen…look for someone to take care of you. There's probably someone still left from the church, or a school friend…"
Lionel sneered. "You coward."
André edged closer to the front door. "I've gotta go, Lionel."
Lionel sat back on the barstool, curling his fingers around the edge of the counter. "You don't gotta go, you gotta stay here and take care of me, but you know, I think I'm a hell of a lot better off without you."
André's face twisted in pain, but he slipped outside, the front door banging shut behind him.
Lionel stared at the front door, where sunlight peeked through the obscured glass. The light slanted almost perfectly, creating a round hole of warm light, and he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.
He felt twenty years older, and he was all alone.
"Lionel?"
Lionel's head snapped up. "God?"
The girl on the other end of the line laughed, but he could still hear the tears in her laugh. "Nope, still Vicki. I, uh…haven't hung up yet."
Lionel laughed to himself and shook his head, putting the phone back to his ear. "So I guess you heard all that?"
Vicki made a sound in the back of her throat. "Not all of it. I heard you screaming, and I heard you fight with someone. But that's it. I wasn't trying to listen, I promise, I just…" Her voice squeaked. "I don't know what to do."
He drummed his fingers on the countertop. "You wanna meet at the church near my house?"