The Goddess of My World

Chapter 1

Exhausted; I could sleep forever. I drag my boots across the apartment and collapse onto the couch next to my mother, who’s cradling my six month old.

She passes Joji into my arms. “I made a grilled chicken salad. It’s in the fridge.” I mumble a tired thanks.

“Salad? That's unusual for you?”

She callously replied, “Yeah, but you could use a salad. Trust me.”

I grimace. I respect my mother for her blunt words. But still, I feel the burn.

And like any ordinary night, she can’t resist giving advice I never asked for.

“Georgy, you can barely make it through work.” Her eyes shine wetly. “What kind of woman will you attract if you don’t take care of yourself?” She doesn’t mean to judge, but her question drops the whole world on my shoulders.

“Mom, I found love… I’m not looking to replace it.” My wife passed away. Her pictures hang high on my walls.

At a certain point, mom’s questions feel like daggers, stabbing into my side, and for the final blow, “Is the way you're living what attracted Mimi to you?”

“I wish you hadn’t said that…” I said stiffly, but the answer is obvious. I didn’t live this way before.

I’m embarrassed, my place is only spotless because my mom watches Joji when I go to work.

“I only worry about you.” Mom said softly.

I nodded. “I know.” Then proceeded with an excuse, “Work has been rough. My boss is constantly on my case. I can’t seem to breathe correctly.” I force a chuckle, “I should find a new job… But I’m tired.”

“I know times are tough, but you will find peace, but not if you keep your heart closed off.” She hugs the both of us at once. “Well, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for everything, Mom. I love you.”

I do love my mother. I love her so much sometimes I daydream of fleeing to a foreign country. No work. No responsibilities. Just sleep. Joji would be safe with her.

Between losing my wife, endless shifts, and my mothers questions, I am worn thin.
But when I hold Joji and see that perfect little smile. My exhaustion, and frustration melt away.

When it’s just us, I talk to Joji as if he can answer. “I miss your momma, buddy.” I say, and he laughs. His way of saying “me too.”

“Let’s go to your momma's favorite pizza joint. I always feel her presence there.” The truth is, I just don’t want a chicken salad. I’m ungrateful, and I am ashamed.

I think of my wife no matter where I go. We did everything together: grocery shopping, playing with Joji at the park, or simple nights at home, just dinner and cuddles. No matter what we did, we did it together.

She really was the goddess of my world.

I strap Joji in his carseat. It took me months to figure this damn thing out. Something my wife would have mastered in one try.

We back out of the lot. The night air is cool, no need for heat, just the windows cracked. Joji coos in the back as the breeze washes over him.

I catch his reflection in the rearview mirror.

“Your momma is with us, buddy.” He chuckles. “Can you feel her?”

His tiny precious smile answers for him.

I smile back. A perfect moment, or as perfect as it can be without Mimi.

Then.

BAM.

Metal crunches, the world turns.

My old beat up Volkswagen never stood a chance. 100,000 miles and one fatal flaw: It couldn’t protect us.

I didn’t even see what hit us.

I throw my arm across Joji’s seat, as if my flimsy arm could stop one thousand pounds of steel. I scream his name, not caring if I’m too late.

The scent of blood and gasoline are strong.
I taste mostly blood.

The clunky metal smashing together is deafening.
I hear glass shatter.

Then nothingness. Not quiet, but the absence of sound. Not blurry, but total darkness. No warmth, no cold, no pain, and even the joy of Joji’s smile is stripped away.

There is a sense of tranquility to this blank state. All sensibilities vanish momentarily.

Then my eyes snap open.

The void shatters. Agony floods in, my spine splits, my skull cracks, and my chest seizes.
I scream… and then, as suddenly, the pain is gone.

I stagger to my feet, lost.

A thick forest looms in the distance, fields rolling for miles.
I’ve never experienced such colorful nature.
The trees must be thousands or even millions of years old.

The vast blue sky drowns me, until I see Joji.

He lies in a basket, next to a few things from the car: His backpack filled with food, diapers, toys and blankets, among other things.

I sprint, scoop him up and hold him tight. “Buddy!”
Doesn’t stir. Doesn’t make a sound.
Doesn’t move.

I press my ear to Joji’s chest, there it is. Thump. Thump. My knees give out. Relief pours over me in a shaky breath.

He yawns, but doesn’t wake up.

But then, the question hits harder than the car crash.

Where the hell are we?