I

“You know those stories where someone dies, and then… somehow, a miracle happens, and they come back?”

I can tell he’s looking at me, but I’ve been staring at the ceiling for a few minutes at this point. My head is laying on my backpack, and my hands are folded together, resting on my torso.

“And they like, experience the ‘other side?’” I continue.

“Yeah.”

“Do you tend to believe those?”

He’s silent for a while. I can tell he isn’t sure what to say, he isn’t sure if he’s crossing a boundary here. People don’t like to talk about religion. I know that. Still, I ask, and whether it’s from extreme naivety or too much awareness, I’m not sure.

“If you want the truth, I guess I don’t know.”

His answer is comforting. Even adults don’t know the secrets of the universe yet. I think part of me knows that, somewhere. But it’s nice to hear him say it. I spend all my life thinking that somehow, I need to get my s**t together by the time I reached 25. Adults always seem so put together. But that isn’t the case. They just know how to act like they are.

That’s sad. The older we get, the more it becomes expected of us to be okay. As I’m thinking, I fail to realize the room has gone silent again. I start again.

“I know this is getting existential, but… are you afraid of dying?”

Once again, he’s taken aback. I don’t think he gets asked this a lot. No one does, which is a shame, I think. He contemplates for some time.

“Overall, I don’t think so. That’ll probably change as I get older, though. It’s more like, there are things I want to get done. But in general, I’m not.”

I’m not sure if his answer surprises me. His words fit who he is, in a way. Though, I guess I’m not sure I know who he is. I think I do more than others, but the very nature of our relationship is like a one way street with the occasional car overlooking the ‘wrong way’ sign.

“I’m not afraid of it, either,” I say. “I can deal with whatever happens after. I can deal with a big Nothing. My biggest fear is that God is real.”

“Why do you say that?”

“People say he’s supposed to hate me, because I break his rules, depending on how you interpret it. And so many of his followers have lost the real meaning of it all, just so they can be more righteous than their neighbor. What about all the rules? I kind of feel bad for him. It’s sad to have something you created go so wrong.”

It’s funny, I think, for me to feel bad for God.

“I think… if there is a God, it’s hard to believe it would be hateful. It wouldn’t make rules that would doom you if broken.”

I laugh at that. Maybe he’s saying it to comfort me. Maybe he believes it himself. Either way, it’s a fine thought.

“I’m fine with the idea that there’s nothing after death, but only for myself, if that makes sense? Like, I don’t want to deal with the fact that my grandmother doesn’t exist anymore, now  that she’s gone.” I think I’m crying, but it’s needed.

“I think most people are like that.”

“Yeah.”