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After putting on headphones, Holly chooses a classic folk-rock playlist from her phone and hits shuffle. Immediately, the melodic guitar riff of James Taylor’s intro to “Fire and Rain” fills her ears, and it’s impossible for Holly to overlook the irony of opening with a song about suicide.
After lowering her blindfold over her eyes, she brings the cool tip of the vape to her lips and inhales the acrid vapor, fighting off the cough and holding her breath for as long as she can. She exhales, and the stench stings her nostrils. She catches her breath and immediately takes another long drag.
Holly has barely exhaled again when a light show explodes behind her mask. The dazzling dance of colors is more beautiful than the northern lights and more intense than a mid-August meteor shower.
Holly is overcome by the oddest sensation. It’s like her skin is peeling away from her body. And yet, there is nothing distressing about it. On the contrary, the feeling is comforting. It’s as if her soul is being freed from the rest of her, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.
She feels herself morphing into a form of pure light. She watches in awe as her spirit melds with the infinite luminescence enshrouding her. She no longer feels like a distinct entity, but rather a miniscule fragment of a much greater being.
A nearby cluster of lights suddenly coalesces into the shape of a face, which shatters her sense of tranquility the moment Holly recognizes it.
Elaine? She gasps.
Elaine’s disembodied face stares back, free of the anger and blame that burned in her eyes on their last encounter. Instead, she radiates profound sadness. Why? she whimpers. Sorrow and confusion tumble over her lips in a dark stream that cools the air around them.
Holly’s mind races with assumptions, all of them useless. Why what, Elaine?
Why am I here?
Holly looks around at an immense cedar forest, cool and green. Occasionally, shafts of sunlight penetrate the gloom. The earth is black and damp. I… I don’t know.
The face glows brighter. You do! You must.
I don’t! Holly feels guilt flutter in her heart. You overdosed, Elaine. But I don’t understand it. You told me you were done forever. No more opioids.
I was done.
But I saw you, Elaine. In the chair. The needle by your foot. Did somebody do this to you?
Needles terrify me. Elaine’s eyes are black pools. Something ripples in their depths.
A drifting sensation sweeps over Holly. As if she can feel herself dissolving. Tell me, Elaine. Please! What happened to you?
A rustling in the underbrush nearby makes Holly spin around. But all is quiet and still, save the dust motes in the sunbeams. When she turns back, Elaine is gone.
Holly’s terror deepens. She looks down at her hands to see her fingers disappearing into wisps of smoke, and struggles to keep herself whole, having no idea how to accomplish it.
Another voice from somewhere in the forest: Hollycopter.
The release is immediate, an outpouring of love. Daddy!
She cannot see her father, but she senses that he is there beside her. She feels his roots supporting her and his boughs shading her. She is filled with the certainty that he is the towering cedar to her left. He is light, soft, resinous, and durable; he is connected to every other tree in this forest in a vast network of vibrational energies.
It’s all right, Hollycopter. Everything will be OK.
No, Daddy. Nothing will ever be okay again. Elaine…
Her father’s voice comes from underground, through a thousand vibrating rootlets. It’s not your fault. Not Elaine’s death, and not mine.
She feels deep inside that this is true, that all is well, and she lies down on the damp black earth to look up between the branches to the blue sky beyond. As above, so below, she thinks, and wonders where the thought comes from.
Her teeth begin to chatter, and her arms and legs tremble violently, evaporating into curls and wisps of smoke that mix with the motes in the sunbeams. Unable to control her body, Holly decides to surrender, allowing the energy to dissipate of its own accord, flowing out into the forest around her.
Holly gathers her bearings. She feels the soft leather of the chair against her back and the cloth over her eyes. Over the soft strumming of an acoustic guitar, Holly hears a click. Then footsteps. She reaches up and yanks the mask away from her eyes, suddenly alert and sober.
She glances urgently around the room, but it appears the same as when she had first sat down.
Then she notices. The door is ajar.
