Heaven’s Clause

A man dies. Whether the bullet was in the shoulder, the chest, or the neck is not a matter of recall for him. He lies on the pavement in an urban land, sun sweltering upon his corpse. The screeching tires of tanks and transports rush by him, and death spares him the agony of waiting for help that would come too late. Before his flag draped coffin his family would agree, he was a man not ready to die.

His soul remembers well the time when the heavenly judges read through his final thoughts, his passions, and considered the ties he left behind, his parents, his wife, now alone without him. It's fuzzy where he is. Everything seems amorphously gray, like cigarette smoke, the men, the chairs, and the tables reminding him of a court room. The long bearded figures cloudy, ever shifting, like the view through a grainy television screen. The judges speak softly, yet drone a recitation in a voice that sounds like his own. The judges come to the same conclusion; the man is not ready to die.

Four years later, in a room rank of incense and full of people chanting in a language not understood, a little girl looks to the brown ceiling and realizes who she is. That she had died as a casualty in a foreign land, and now lives again. For years he has been living as Hailey Jane Oswald, beloved daughter of four. But now that he knows, he is once again Roger Thruman of the U.S. Marine Corp.

This sudden realization brings Roger's tiny eyes to tears. Sitting with her on the bench among golden idols and calming mantras in the temple is the mother of Hailey Jane Oswald. She also has been crying, but Roger can see only the remnants of tears, the sobbing could not be heard among the prayers. Roger looks up and his cheek is kissed.

Carolyn Ann Oswald holds her daughter close.

Stroking her crying daughter’s long brown hair, mother is just a second closer to the reason she feels empty. She doesn’t know the problem, though the grief comes regardless, but she does see the solution. She utters a whisper not unlike a melody in her daughter’s ear, and within the minute, the tears stop following. Roger looks up “What is the meaning of life?” and Carolyn Ann Oswald says, “Cope”. But that spurs another question, how should Roger cope?

Buddhism has been one of many failures of Carolyn to find peace through religion.

Driving in a minivan, the tires making their own heart beats as they thump against the gravel, mother and daughter reflect on what they have learned. The reincarnated Roger, sitting in a child’s seat in a state of wonder, ponders what to do with his new truths.

Now that he knows who he really is, there is so much knowledge at his disposal. He looks to his “mother”, his caretaker in those four years of darkness, and out of spontaneity and excitement he says to her “I know everything.”

Carolyn holds back a chuckle. “Honey, no one knows everything.” “But I do! I do know everything!” Roger frowns, the words hadn't come. As has happened and will happen in the future, his four-year old brain is unable to convey what he wants to say. For one thing, his young skull has never comprehended the word reincarnation. Looking down, his apology comes out as “I'm sorry Momma”

Carolyn smiles as she looks through her rear-view mirror. “It’s okay sweetie, you’ll know more someday.” But Roger stops for a moment and wonders “What now?”. If he can, he wishes to see his loved ones once more. But how can he do so now?.

He looks ahead at this woman, now his mother, as she drives, every once in a while glancing at Roger through her mirror. Carolyn enters the garage with her minivan and gets out to un-strap her daughter, only to find that she has already unstrapped herself, something that has never happened before. “Hailey, we don’t do that, you have to wait for me.” Carolyn lifts Hailey out of the seat and closes the door behind her. Roger frowns, for his mother doesn't notice that now, something is different.

As Roger enters the house, he realizes he knows this place and feels comfortable here.

Feeling energetic and unable to control himself, he starts running, screaming, daring his mother to catch him. But is she his mother? His memories, his thoughts attained within these past four years, label her as such. But he knows so little about her, his prior memories, unenlightened, picture her in a mixed lens. He remembers his “mother” as someone able to dispense good in the form of gifts, and bad in the form of punishments.

He knows her habits, what she likes to eat, that she works part-time as a doctor’s assistant, and that she loves for her to ask questions. He knows that his father, a businessman, has died, whisked away out of his life.

Carolyn stops smiling once her daughter stops, staring out into the distance. This isn’t normal for Hailey, who is always running and playing and talking. This silence disturbs. “What’s wrong honey?” Roger frowns in seriousness “I need to show you something.”

Carolyn follows Roger as he goes into the closet, and comes out with some paper and pencils. When papers drop from his small clumsy hands, Roger pauses to pick them up.

Another oddity Carolyn notes, as Hailey has never been one to clean up after herself, and calls to clean up have often been met with tantrums. Roger sits at her child-sized chair and table, sets down the paper, and begins to draw. It is a crude looking box design, but the intent is clear. “Honey, that’s a helicopter."

Roger continues to draw. He is frustrated by his child’s inability to draw perspective or anything complex, but is satisfied by drawing stick-men with army-hats, just as he had when he was a child, back in his past life. He draws mosques and tall buildings, and with his limited artistic capability, does a four year old’s version of a military roadblock in colored pencil. Perhaps that should convince his new mother of who he is, perhaps then she could help him.

“Honey, what are you drawing?” Roger looks back at Carolyn stoically “Army men” “Well you shouldn’t be drawing army men honey, it’s not nice.” Roger experiences a frustration that overwhelms him, ripping the paper up in anger and running over to his room, sobbing a bit and subconsciously grabbing and then hugging the giant purple teddy bear, something Hailey had done since she could grab... Carolyn leaves her alone.

“If she wants to throw a tantrum let her” she thinks, and goes on to make herself and her daughter some lunch.

Despite his initial zeal, Roger finds himself quite distracted for the rest of the day. He plays puzzles, watches television and repeats along with the screen at all the right cues, easily sucked into this seemingly simple game. He avoids the jump-rope he had happily played with in his previous four years, and refuses to play house, but finds himself dutifully occupied with board games, arts-and-crafts, and playing ring-around-the-rosie with his mother. His mother is dear to him; memories of happiness and even a bit of loneliness cause him to want as much time as possible with her.

When night-time comes, Roger goes to bed when told, feeling sleepy anyhow and not feeling the need to prove to his mother that he’s more adult by staying up. However he wakes up with a start. He is tempted to go to his mother for help, but determines that this isn't something Carolyn would understand. He opens the closet, looks under the bed, and runs all around the house looking, but not finding, the gunmen of his dreams.

Finally convincing himself that all is well, he falls fast asleep.

The next morning, Roger wakes up at the crack of dawn. Feeling an overwhelming strangeness at being alone, he walks over to his “mother’s” room and nudges her awake. Carolyn has to wake up anyways, so she makes the two of them breakfast. “But I don’t want to go Momma!” Going back to preschool is the last thing Roger wants to do, he needs more time, and he has to convince her. “Honey you have to go, Mommy has to go to work.”

The two arrive at Hannison daycare in Wayne, Pennsylvania. Roger marvels at his good fortune, that he is only a state away from New Jersey, where his family may still live.

With an uncharacteristic attitude of inevitability, Roger gives a childish pout as he is dropped off.

The day starts with children, wandering about with supervision, playing with toys and sometimes talking with other kids and adults. Roger begins to play like the rest of them, mesmerized by age appropriate toys and communicating enthusiastically with others.

Farrah, a child of middle-eastern decent, approaches Roger. She has never bothered Hailey before, why should she bother her now? But as Roger watches her approach, the toys, the sterile smell of the nursery is replaced by the mustiness, and the towering buildings of a desert city. Memories abound, stones are thrown from the street corner by children just like Farrah. Roger holds his head and crouches, holding his spindly legs, saying “D-don’t come any closer…” Roger trembles, but Farrah does come closer.

“What’s wrong?” Roger hears shots in the air. A man is on fire, and a building is razed to the ground... Roger lets out a piercing scream.

But the adults had gotten him to forget about it, in time. Though Roger would not approach, talk to, or play with Farrah, he would certainly draw, listen to stories, and run around just like the other children did. Roger however would not touch dolls, skip rope, or play house. These actions were humiliating to him, and although he is drawn to childish things, here he draws the line. He makes an effort to play with trucks and action figures, but finds no interest in them.

This behavior is noted by one of the caretakers, who takes Carolyn aside. “I admit this is rather sudden, but I thought you should know about this.” And thus Kate explained to Carolyn Hailey’s behavior. Carolyn discounts it all “We’re going through a tough time Kate, you know that Frank died a few months ago, it’s not uncommon for Hailey to act out.” “I understand Miss Oswald, maybe you’re right. Perhaps she’ll have a better day tomorrow.”

Carolyn has had a busy day at work. There was a day’s worth of work due to a snow storm the previous week, and they had filled in the dislocated patients today. Seeing that Hailey was happy, smiling, and singing to herself in the car, Carolyn didn’t see a reason to push the matter. Today, like many days, would be a day when Hailey would get all the TV time she wanted.

“Mommy, is the war still going on?” Carolyn’s heart skips a beat “W-what do you mean sweetie?” “The war, is it still going on?” Carolyn takes a deep breath, and explains to her daughter that war happens, and that as far as she knows, there will always be people who don’t get along, and there will be fighting. But this isn’t it for Hailey “Is the war still going on?” Carolyn now regrets that she watches the evening news with her daughter. “Honey, Mommy doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Roger had wanted to know if all that fighting had been in vain. If his buddies were still there, or if the war had been won. But in her childishness, Hailey had never really understood the news, and thus she does not remember. Roger stares out the window, wondering how he will ever get his “mother” to understand what has been revealed to him. The car stops, and Roger is unstrapped and carried over to the T.V. Roger stares at rapt attention, and forgets why everything else had been important.

Roger soon grows bored of watching TV. Knowing that his “mother” is busy, he has a surprising moment of clarity, and draws a woman in a white wedding gown, just as he remembers her. When Carolyn comes over to check on her, Roger is staring at the piece. “Who is this?” Roger is crying and looks up at her “mother” “Emily.” Carolyn cradles her child and asks what is wrong. But Roger is inconsolable. Carolyn feeds Hailey her favorite animal crackers, and soon she has forgotten the whole thing munching on the creature’s legs, bodies, and then finally the head.

Roger finds that he has no self-restraint. He happily maims and plays with the animal crackers, making various noises before they are eaten ravenously and monstrously. One by one the cookies march up to Hailey's mouth. Hailey talks to them, gives them names, and then bites off their heads. Carolyn watches her daughter play as she always has, and being that there is no company to embarrass, she allows the destruction to continue.

Carolyn looks enviously at her daughter, happy in every way as she imitates the cookie monster. She remembers the temple where she cried, and tries to forget it, should tears come again. For the most part she's been strong, for crying in front of Hailey would be unfair; the child shouldn't suffer as the mother does, for crying begets crying. She wishes she could pray to God and feel relief. But she knows now that no matter what religion she prays in, she cannot shake the idea that it's still the same God laughing at her. Yet she wants to feel like she's being watched over. She wants to feel that's she's loved. She smiles as she eyes her daughter, crumbs on her face, and recognizes the love that comes from Hailey, smiling a wide toothy grin. Carolyn wishes she could always be with her daughter, if only to squeeze as much love out of her as possible.

That night, Roger dreams of his wedding day. Like his dreams always have been much is blurry, the bridesmaids have no faces and all the young men from his high school look alike. But the faces that matter are there, Emily's, pale with a shy glowing grin underneath her veil; his father's portly face with a businessman’s mustache; his mother's visage, wrinkled and pleasant, thin and wise. He himself wears his army fatigues; he will be shipping out for the first time not soon after the honeymoon. Emily lifts her veil and Roger kisses her prematurely. The preacher protests but the guests laugh regardless. They know that in more ways than one ,the couple is married already.

Roger never could remember exactly what he said to Emily in his vows, or what she said herself, but he remembers what the kiss means. The kiss means forever, till death do us part.

Roger wakes up bawling, his young mind not yet trained to hold back the tears. Carolyn holds him tight, and she whispers happy things, things he cannot hear due to his own cries, but he knows that they are happy and he begins to calm down. He thinks happy things, of Emily on their honeymoon, of Emily pregnant with their child. Roger decides then that he will find them somehow. He doesn't know how he'll do it, but he'll tell them how much he loves them.

Carolyn gives a sigh of relief as Hailey suddenly stops wailing. But she makes a note to herself to stop delaying and call the child psychologist. Carolyn had thought her daughter would never stop bawling, she hadn't cried for that long since before she could talk. Whoever this “Emily” Hailey was crying about meant to her, it sounded painful, a pain even an adult should have to feel. Once Hailey closed her eyes, her favorite bear in her arms, Carolyn left a message on Dr. Edet's answering machine.

The days go by rather normally for the week, with some eccentricities. Carolyn finds that her daughter has been playing with the phone again; a phase that she thought Hailey had grown out of. Hailey continues to draw army men, and her ban of “girl” toys continued. Carolyn couldn't even get Hailey to look at a doll, none the less play with one. Carolyn convinces herself that it is just a phase, some sort of a side effect of Frank's absence, but she eyes the circled date with anticipation. The 30th at 5:30 is when the session will start.

Roger kicks his legs once his “mother” leaves the room. Why is he uncomfortable? This is his chance to explain himself, someone PAID to listen to him. Yet he looks away, mouth closed, his cute round face stuck in a perpetual frown. Dr Edet speaks first “Now Hailey, do you miss your father.” Roger thinks no at first, but then remembers his kindly smile, how he would hoist him on top of his shoulders and hang him upside down. But with his new focus, his new view of things, he answers honestly and shakes his head.

Dr Edet adjusts her horn-rimmed glasses and jots down some notes in her sketchbook.

“Now when your mother was alone with me she said that you've been drawing a lot of army men, even though she's told you not to. Do you like army men?” Roger instinctively nods. “Have you been sad recently?” Roger nods and begins to sniffle, the tears coming back at the mention of it. He has been having nightmares that leave him in a cold sweat when he wakes up in the morning, and the worst part is knowing that he can tell no one of the violence he sees in his dreams, the faces he saw in the war. His classmates didn't understand it, his teacher's discouraged it, and his mother flatly denied any talk she deemed not suitable to a four year old's delicate image of a fair world.

Dr Edet gets up and sits next to Roger on the couch “Honey, it’s okay, tell me what's wrong. You'll feel better.” But Roger looks down. He does not want to tell her, she is a stranger. He cannot explain why, but his reason is there. Dr. Edet stops asking hard questions, and Roger begins to gab about his favorite colors, his favorite games, of all the things that interest his four year old mind. As he exits the clinic holding his mother's hand, he regrets that he could not tell her more, but perhaps there will be a next time. Carolyn watches her daughter draw with some worry and some amazement. Hailey has been getting better, particularly with faces and the basic body shape; however, Hailey ALWAYS draws army men. Carolyn has stopped watching the news with her, but still the Humvees, the desert, and the extra-large sun that looks ready to fall on the always grimacing soldiers. Dr Edet says that it's most likely just a phase and that it doesn't take much to trigger obsession in a child's mind. But Carolyn doesn't like it. A child shouldn't think about such sober things. But still, she's getting better, more vivid in her expression. She'd rather Hailey draw army men than not draw at all. It's a habit she conducts alone, which gives Carolyn a break, and it's better than her staring aimlessly at the television. Carolyn sighs and wonders if she should give in and stop worrying. It's not violent if she doesn't hit someone, after all.

A week later, Roger bites Farrah on the arm. Farrah had hit first, and although it wasn't the most dignified of a defense, it came as a reflex, unprovoked by his mind. But he had wanted to hurt her. Then again, he had called her the worst name in his vocabulary, a poopie-head. He had tried avoiding her, the memories hadn't stopped, and he had begun to wish that he didn't remember so he could be spared the pain. But she kept on approaching him, asking “What's wrong” over and over. She had brought it upon herself Roger thought. He had just taken the next step, to tell her that she wasn't wanted.

Roger just wants Farrah to stop screaming and the adult to stop lecturing. He just wants to play...that way he won't have to think about how much he misses his wife anymore.

Carolyn looks through her rear view mirror at Hailey, who is pouting and staring at the ground. Finding that Hailey felt no remorse for what she did angers Carolyn as she drives, the patter of rain on her dashboard serving only to anger her further. Dr. Edet had said that a patient had canceled and that she could fit Carolyn in and Carolyn knows why. It's a terrible day to be outside. Hailey looks out the window, quiet as a dormouse, which serves as another worry, for this is not the first time. Hailey has not been talkative lately, and Carolyn no longer knows what is on her mind. Carolyn makes a swift push at the brake pedal, the red of the brake lights barely visible, but Hailey makes no sound, not even a whimper. Carolyn hopes that Dr. Edet can make sense of it.

The last thing she wants is for this to get worse.

Dr Edet listens to the situation from Carolyn and then tells her to wait outside. Roger looks down moping. He knows exactly why he is here. Dr Edet asks him why he bit Farrah, and he answers the best he can with the language he knows. “She hit me first.”

Dr Edet smiles, causing Roger to relax; he's seen enough frowns today. “Now Hailey, we only bite someone if we are in danger, were we in danger?” Roger shakes his head, hoping that the Dr doesn't go further with this line of questioning. Dr Edet smiles “Good, it's good that you understand. Now your mother tells me that you've not been talking to her as much, is that how you see it.” Roger sighs and answers truthfully “She's not my mother” Dr Edet's smile disappears “Than who is your mother?”

Carolyn is called in to Dr Edet's office. “Now Carolyn, are you Hailey's biological mother” Carolyn nods, and responds with trepidation “Why do you ask?” Dr Edet sighs “Carolyn, your child is adamant that her mother is a woman named Elizabeth Myra Thruman, do you know such a woman”. Carolyn is alarmed “No, NO! I have not heard of her. Why doesn't Hailey think I'm her mother?!”

Roger resigns himself to the fact that his mother thinks he's nuts. After weeks of affirming his beliefs, determined to convince her that he really is Roger Thruman, he resigns himself to defeat, because each time his claims are met with tears and cries of “You don't love me anymore?” Roger surprisingly finds that he still does. In a way, she really is his mother, if only his second one. As the days go by and he settles into his new routine, the nightmares begin to fade, and he stops looking for soldiers in the basement.

But the visions of Emily never disappear, only the tears stop.

Years go by and the changes are subtle. By 8 Roger starts choosing his own skirts rather than fighting to wear jeans. By 14 he starts applying a little bit of makeup, a defeat coming from the urge to be seen as a young woman rather than a girl, and by 16 he kisses his first boy, resigning himself to the obvious facts of his chemistry. He stops seeing himself as a guy, and in a way, becomes Hailey. But she never really forgets.

Hailey gets her first car at 17, a benefit of saving and working as soon as the law would let her. She finds that her memory has not faded. After the long drive to New Jersey she finds herself in familiar territory. Sure the local pharmacy has traded owners, but the water tower is still there, and the street signs are still the same. In no time at all she turns her car onto Sunrise Street and sees the white shingled rustic old house with the garden out front and the rose petal tree. As she watches, a young boy exits the garage and goes elsewhere on a bicycle. Tears come to Hailey's eyes. Emily is no longer there.

Hailey had hoped to see her once more and perhaps to have seen her grown child. And perhaps she still can. She could knock on the door, find out where the previous owners moved to...and then knock on the doors of the new house and reveal everything. But who would believe her? Her mother certainly hadn't, and an anonymous note would surely lead to confusion rather than a revelation. She had decided that before she went to New Jersey, that her old life was behind her, that she would not try to make contact.

She had only wanted to see Emily's face one last time.

As she drives home, Hailey is reminded of the college tours she did with her mother.

With her good grades, many schools offer scholarships for her, a privilege she had not had in her previous life. Before she had skipped school, and got married before she could graduate. But now she knows that she has plenty of time before she has to settle down. Hailey finally arrives home, pulling into the drive way and hugging her mother as she enters the house. As Hailey drifts off to sleep in her flower patterned bed, she thinks of her future, a future she will not have cut short.

The judges look down on Hailey from above, smiling. They have faced many years, and from where they reside, no wrinkles can weather them. They are glad once again that they were right in instating Heaven's Clause, that none shall come who is not ready to die. They were afraid at first, for past memories can weigh down a body not prepared for it. But all has progressed smoothly. When the Judges meet Roger again, they are sure he will be ready. For life truly is only training for the life beyond.