I lay on the floor of my brand new house, in the arms of my wife. This was exactly how the night was supposed to end, except for the ugly, the blood stains, the bullet wound. It was my idiot cousin, who had a little too much in him and not enough self-control. He hadn't meant to shoot me, but he did regardless. While half of the people at my birthday party, I was turning thirty, you know, rushed to either arrest him or defend him, the other half rushed to my side. I didn't need anyone to take care of me, all I needed was my wife, Carolyn. She gathered me in her arms, her sun-kissed skin making me feel better already. She looked down at me with her dark-blue eyes, and suddenly, the rest of the guests faded away.
"Daniel," she whispered so softly I could barely hear her. She caressed my face. I tried to smile, the wound doesn't hurt as badly when you know you're going to die.
"I'm here," I told her, "but you don't need me." She shook her head.
"I know but..." I silenced her by squeezing her hand.
"Just look at me, just look into my eyes, Carolyn." She gently smacked the side of my face. It didn't hurt.
"What was that for," I asked, my voice sounding weaker by the second.
"Being totally and utterly cliché." I shrugged.
"I try." I heard sirens in the distance, and I decided I would just wait until the ambulance came. Carolyn cuddled up against me and just stared at me, and once again I was lost in her eyes. They were the color of the night sky, and even though I knew I was going to die that night, it was a perfect shade of dark blue. Here I was, lying on the floor of the house I was supposed to start a family in, slowly bleeding to death, but Carolyn's eyes captivated me so completely, the world could have burned down and I wouldn't have noticed until I saw the rubble around me. She reached down and grabbed the necklace that had hung around my neck since the day we got married. It was a boxing glove with a small star in the middle of it. It was only made out of a cheap metal, but it was precious.
"You remember why I gave you this," she asked me. I nodded.
"Yes."
"Why," she questions, turning her head in the inquisitive way that I loved and laughed at because it was so beautiful.
"Because you can shoot for the stars all you want, but you have to fight for those you love," I reply, repeating her exact words from the day she had given me the gift, "and you say I'm the sappy one." She smiled at me, and we simply got lost in each other.
"You're not going to make it, are you," she asks softly. I want to say yes, I want to say no, I want to say something else to the woman I love before I can't anymore, but the wound begins to take over, and I have no choice but to succumb to it. I simply squeeze her hand one last time and close my eyes on the scene before me.
When I open them again I come face to face with another human being. I yell out and jump back, I have no idea where I am. All I know is I feel good, really good.
"Who are you," I yell at the guy accusingly. He smiles a big, goofy smile and offers his hand to me.
"Joel Taylor. What's your story?" And I began to tell him. I told him about my life: my job, my family, and most of all, Carolyn. I told him how I had died, which made him nod. He offered his hand to me.
"I think you'll like this." I debated with myself for a minute before deciding to take it. I blinked and suddenly we were on a hilltop. There were stars twinkling around me like some strange movie scene. I smiled and whispered to my wife, as if she could hear me,
"How's this for cliché Carolyn?" It was then that I noticed, and when I did I looked over at my new friend in surprise.
"I know," was all he said. The tears sprang into my eyes as I absorbed the scenery around me. The rolling hill, a couple of trees just beginning to bloom, and most of all, and most significantly, the sky. It was the color I had died looking at, the color of my wife's eyes, the perfect shade of dark blue.
