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Resurrection

B.H. James

    Bob Sanders had never believed in an afterlife until Uncle Tim came back from the dead and reported that he’d seen Bob’s mother.
    Bob hadn’t seen his mother since he was thirty-seven years old. Bob was forty-four years old the day that Uncle Tim came back from the dead.
    Uncle Tim told Bob that in the afterlife he had been sitting in a diner. The waitress was Bob’s mother. Uncle Tim told Bob that Bob’s mother had said four words: “Which will it be?”
    Then Uncle Tim woke up. The doctors told him he’d been dead for several seconds.
    Uncle Tim told all of this to Bob over the telephone. Uncle Tim had been in the hospital for nine days, but Bob couldn’t visit. A pandemic was going on. Only people who were already sick were allowed into the hospital.
    Bob had been calling the hospital each morning after breakfast and each evening before supper. He got updates from the nurses. Bob couldn’t speak to Uncle Tim because Uncle Tim was unconscious.
    But on the ninth day, after breakfast, the nurse who answered said “Here he is” and gave the phone to Uncle Tim, and Uncle Tim told Bob where he had gone.
    Bob asked his uncle, “That’s all she said?”
    “Call me again tomorrow,” Uncle Tim told Bob. “I’ll tell you another story.”
    Bob called the next morning. Bob had slept on the couch after a fight with his wife, Linda. Bob had had Cheerios for breakfast. The fight was about the recycling.
    “I was in love with her,” Uncle Tim said to Bob. Uncle Tim was talking about Bob’s mother. He sounded like he might cry.
    “That’s it,” Uncle Tim said. “There’s no story. When I told you to call back and I’d tell you a story, I thought there was a story, but there isn’t. I loved her from the day I met her, and I never told her or your father or anyone. That’s it.”
    Bob didn’t know what to say. He didn’t say anything.
    “That isn’t a story,” Uncle Tim added.
    Bob heard a loud crash, then Teddy crying. “I have to go,” Bob said.
    “I need you to do something for me,” Uncle Tim said.
    Teddy was crying louder and Linda was shouting for Bob.
    “What is it?” Bob said.
    “I think I need to see my brother,” Uncle Tim said.
    Uncle Tim had not seen nor spoken to his brother, Uncle Mark, for nearly thirty years.
    But it had been Uncle Mark who had called Bob to tell him to get over there and check on Uncle Tim.
    Uncle Tim and Uncle Mark had the same housekeeper. The housekeeper’s name was Jenny. Jenny cleaned Uncle Mark’s house every Wednesday night after cleaning Uncle Tim’s house. Jenny had been doing this for four-and-a-half years, and for four-and-a-half years Uncle Mark had used Jenny to keep an eye on his brother.
    On the Wednesday before Uncle Tim went to the hospital, Jenny told Mark that something was wrong with Tim. Usually Tim followed her from room to room while she cleaned, but that day he had stayed in bed. He finally came out to the kitchen to pay her, but when she left he was leaning over the counter, with his head down.
    It seemed like he was having trouble breathing.
    When Bob got there, Uncle Tim was still in the kitchen, but on the floor.
    Bob hadn’t told any of this to Uncle Tim when Uncle Tim asked to see Uncle Mark. Bob relayed Uncle Mark’s number to Uncle Tim’s nurse, who dialed the number and handed the phone to Uncle Tim.
    “I saved your life, you know?” Uncle Mark said.
    “How’s that?” Uncle Tim said.
    Uncle Mark explained.
    “You’re using that girl to spy on me?” Uncle Tim said.
    “I am,” Uncle Mark said. “Lucky for you.”
    “Doctors saved my life,” Uncle Tim said. “Doctors and nurses.”
    “You’d’ve never seen them,” Uncle Mark said. “You’d be on ice.”
    “So what do you want?” Uncle Tim said. “A ribbon?”
    “I don’t need anything from you,” Uncle Mark said.
    “You want a full-page ad in the Sunday paper?” Uncle Tim said.
    “I don’t need anything from you,” Uncle Mark said again.
    Uncle Tim paused. “So why’d you bother?”
    Uncle Mark paused. “Momentary lapse.” Then he hung up.
    Uncle Tim handed the phone back to the nurse. “Never mind,” he said. “I don’t need to talk to him.”
    The nurse put the phone in the pocket of his scrubs. Uncle Tim looked at him.
    “You a doctor?” Uncle Time said.
    “No,” the nurse said.
    Uncle Tim looked at him some more. “Where are you from?”
    “Yuba City,” the nurse said.
    “I mean originally,” Uncle Tim said.
    “San Jose,” the nurse answered.
    Uncle Tim grumbled. The nurse asked Uncle Tim if he needed anything else. Uncle Tim told him to get that other one back in. The little blonde. Then he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

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