After I Die

By writerforever

Dedicated to the aid victims.

The sky was a shimmer of pink as the sun was setting. It was almost as if the blue ocean was pulling the powerful sun down into its' depths. Twenty-one year old Emin looked on from where he sat in a blue beach chair out close to where the waves crashed onto the sand. A warm breeze was blowing and all seemed peaceful.

Emin pulled the soft blanket tighter around his shoulders and sighed. His black hair was wet from his feverish sweat. The fever had been raging throughout his weak and tired body all day. Last night it had gone down but when the morning had come it had started all over again.

The disease, aids, had attacked him so suddenly it seemed. It had, so far, destroyed him almost completely. He could barely eat because swallowing anything was painful. He always utterly exhausted, barely able to even move very far. His once tanned skin was now covered with brownish spots, but they were pigmented. He was blowing away to nothing.

Deserted and betrayed by everyone he had trusted, Emin tries to find courage. But today he knows that he is not going to make it. He knows that his time has come. There is no more will, no more string left in his soul and body to survive another day. All must come to a slow end. He feels though, as if ever since the disease took over him his life has been coming to a slow end each and every day.

Deep inside, his heart is battered and broken. Many people have hurt him in the past, such as his parents who refused to help him in any way when they found out about his disease. All they could think of was what their friends would think when they found out their son, Emin, had aids. Emin had tried to explain to his parents that not just homosexuals can get aids but they wouldn't listen because they knew what had happened to him when he had left home. He had met Marc, the 'gay dude'.

Marc, a scheming, lying, jerk who had used Emin heartlessly. He had promised Emin the world but in the end had used him and deserted him. It had all happened so fast and wasn't what Emin expected, nor what he had wanted. So when he was diagnosed with aids, Emin had had to cope with his disease on his own.

He had been admitted in a home for aid victims that was close to the beach in Charleston, South Caroline, which is where he is now, gazing out at the ocean. The nurses had let him come out, at his request, just for a few moments to watch the sunset. One of the nurses sat just a little ways from him, reading.

A surge of will and strength seemed to surge throughout Emin suddenly and pushed back the blanket from his shoulders and struggled to stand up from the beach chair. He collapsed onto the white sand and sat there for a moment trying to catch his breath.

The nurse, now fully aware of Emin, throws her book down and rushes over towards him.

"Mr. Inkle, what are you doing? You must sit back down," the nurse says trying to help Emin to his feet but he protests.

"No, no please, I…I need to do this," he says.

"Need to do what?" she asks, puzzled.

Emin doesn't answer her but motions for her to step aside. He reaches out and grasps a hold of the beach chair for support and pulls himself to his feet. A wave of dizziness and fatigue rushes over him but he takes a deep breath and steps forward slowly towards the oceans waves that are splashing onto the beach.

Shrugging of his red house shoes, Emin stretches his foot out for a moment and waits for a warm ocean wave to slide over his foot. As the salty water caresses his feet, Emin closes his eyes, savoring the moment, the feeling, the wonderness of just being alive. He steps closer and closer to the waves until finally the water is covering his feet.

The exasperated nurse stands just at the waves' edge and calls to him.

"You must come back Mr. Inkle," she says.

"I won't be coming back," he whispers, but she doesn't hear him.

He wades further out into the ocean. Now he is knee deep. His legs are getting wobbly and he feels as if he's going to pass out. Memories flash through his mind. Memories of his parents, of Marc, memories of his life. So many mistakes, so many joys, so many heartaches. A tear slides down his cheek as he thinks of the past year he had spent completely alone cooped up in the special home for aid victims. He had been shunned by his parents, his so-called friends, and Marc. He had been a stranger in a strange new place. Through all the hell he had experienced he had had no one to hold him when the tears had come. He had had no one to comfort him, nor to be there for him. Betrayed, lost, broken, and alone he had been.

And alone and lost will I die, he says to himself.

He sees a big wave coming towards him. He can hear the nurse running out to get him back before the wave can hit him. But she is too late. Spreading his arms out before him, Emin waits for the wave to come to him.

The small wave of water crashes down upon him, knowing him backwards under the water. He drowns slowly.

The nurse is screaming for help. The seagulls are crying in the sky. The waves continue to crash.

Mrs. Mary Inkle, Emin's mother, sits in her small townhouse somewhere in Georgia. She is reading a book but suddenly her mind drifts to her only son. Resentment fills her heart and she shakes her head.

What a disgrace he has been to us, she thinks to herself, totally unaware that her son, the baby she had birthed into this world, the little boy she had raised into a young man, the man she had resented and turned away when he had needed her most, is dead.

Marc Samples is playing pool in a bar somewhere in Kentucky. He's laughing and taking swigs of beer every once and awhile. Suddenly Emin enters his mind. He shakes his head quickly, trying to block out the face of the innocent one he had used. He too is unaware of the fact that the young man that had turned to him for friendship and love, the young man that he had used for his own pleasure and for his own greedy lusts, is dead.

The destroyed body of Emin is pulled out deeper into the ocean where it sinks slowly into the dark abyss of the choppy waters.

After I die will you love me?

After I die will you still resent me?

After I die will you still turn me away?

After I die will you think of me as I thought of you?

After I die will you pray for me as I prayed for you?

After I die will you cry for me as I cried for you?

After I die will you remember me as I remembered you?

After I die…

To be continued…