dina elbo
Over a Game of Checkers
Silas walked into his bedroom and saw his dead sister waiting for him.
He went rigid; he always felt a small jolt at the sight of Asa. The first time he saw her after she died, he thought she’d been a hallucination, and he told her as much. He knew ghosts were real. Everybody did, but nobody was prepared to see someone they knew in this state. After a few months, Silas was finally able to confront his sister’s phantom.
Now, Asa was seated on one side of their childhood checkerboard, and she smiled when he came in. She motioned for him to take the seat across from her. “Care for a round?”
He shook his head and waved her off, muttering something about how busy he was, and made to leave the room.
“Too busy to spare a game of checkers?” she called out right before he reached the door. “I don’t exactly have a lot of hobbies to pass the time.”
Of course, she didn’t, Silas thought with a curl of dread. What hobbies can a ghost have? He nodded silently and took a seat on the opposite side of the checkerboard.
“You avoid me.” Asa pointed at a certain checker piece, then pointed towards the spot on the board to which she wanted to move it.
Her hands would only pass through physical objects, so Silas moved the piece for her and then made his own move.
He grimaced at her bluntness. “My apologies,” he said, though his gaze was on the board. “It is not intentional.”
She tilted her head. “I am not sure I believe that.”
It had been nearly eight months since Asa had died. Since he had tried to bake a birthday cake for her and watched the day go to hell as a result. Since she had fallen to the floor, gasping, choking, and turning a horrifying shade of red.
Growing up, their mother was the one to prepare their meals. But she was feverish, and Silas had been slowly learning to cook for some time. He didn’t want Asa’s birthday tainted with sickness, so he took up an old friend’s cookbook and made the cake himself. He did not realize Asa would have a poor reaction to the ingredients.
Peanuts. It was almost a cruel joke. She was the strongest person Silas ever knew, and she was bested by some peanuts. Eight months since Asa had died, and she had been visiting him ever since. She had joked about it with him, played games, made conversation, and tried to retain the lightheartedness they shared before her death. He tried joining her, but most times, his heart was not in it, and this was one of those times. He grew weary of pretending that everything was okay. Her staying behind meant that she had unfinished business of sorts that kept her from resting, and it hit him with another wave of guilt each time he remembered.
He almost laughed at the thought. Asa was eighteen and had an entire life of unfinished business. He was not much older than her, barely two years, but she was still his to protect. It was his job, and he failed miserably.
“Silas,” she said as if she had been trying to get his attention for some time, and he pulled himself back to the present and moved another checker piece for her.
He tried to concentrate on the board and tried to figure out what his own next move should be. Even though it only lasted a moment, it was a decent distraction.
“Must we talk about this now?”
“Yes,” she said, ever the stubborn sister. “You’ve avoided me for some time, but now you won’t even look at me.”
“Of course not,” he said with uncharacteristic bitterness. “I do not know how you look at me. I am your killer, yet you see me only as your brother. It is a credit I do not deserve.”
“And I am your victim, though you still see me as your sister, do you not?” He flinched, but when he looked at her, he saw no judgment in her eyes. “I would hope so, for it is an honor to be your sister. I would have it no other way, even knowing how it ends.”
“Why not?” he demanded. “Why do you insist on loving the person who was your undoing? You should despise me. You should hope I die soon after you and end up in a vastly different place.”
Asa only looked at him, waiting for him to calm down. He couldn’t slow his breathing, but he grudgingly managed to unclench his fists. Satisfied, she pointed at another checker piece, and he moved it for her. Made his own move.
“You made a mistake,” she said quietly. “A terrible mistake, but one void of malice. You must not sentence yourself to a life of punishment. Especially not on my behalf. I cannot bear it.”
“You can be so intolerable,” he muttered. He felt himself begin to heave, felt the heat radiating from his face. His voice was growing more bitter, more untamed.
“For God’s sake, love yourself enough to realize that I am not to be loved. Every time you show me mercy, I only show myself more cruelty.”
Asa tilted her head, seeming to analyze her brother. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she seemed sad. Silas felt horrible, but he couldn’t find it in him to untense.
“Why do you hold back, Silas?”
Silas felt his heart nearly give out. “You think this is me holding back?”
“You repress yourself too much. Tell me what you are truly thinking. I am not here to judge you.”
“And I resent you all the more for it,” he said, but he knew he was lying. It wasn’t Asa he resented.
His heaving turned into panting, and eventually, it crashed into a small, almost silent sob.
“I am so sorry,” he finally whispered, his voice breaking. His heart seemed to pour out with the words. “I was reckless and horrible. You deserved to die peacefully as an old woman, not a child. I wish it were me. I would do anything to have it be me."
He closed his eyes and realized they were wet with tears. “And I don’t say this for your forgiveness. Nothing I do or say can ever be worth that much.”
There was a long silence, broken only by his sniffles before she spoke. “I forgave you the moment it happened,” she said quietly. “I forgave you even before I regained sentience.”
But he only shook his head, letting his gaze drop to the ground again. “That simply cannot be true. You are a ghost, and therefore you are not at peace.”
“How can I be at peace,” she said, her voice getting higher with barely concealed emotion, “when I know that you are not? How can I go and leave you to your torment?”
But he was only shaking his head, again and again. She made to put her hand over his, but he couldn’t feel it.
He noticed, though, and stilled. “If you feel you owe me a debt of sorts, repay me in this way.”
She waited to speak again, waited until he opened his eyes, and finally looked at his sister again. “Forgive yourself. Grieve with sadness, but not with guilt.”
He tightened his hands into fists. He failed her in life already, and he was afraid he would only fail her again in death.
“Asa,” he said softly, “I would give you the world. But I cannot give you this. Anything but this.”
“But I do not want anything else.” Asa’s voice was firm. Unwavering, but not unkind. “My brother, I know I am asking a lot of you, and I understand if it takes time. It will take time. But everyone starts somewhere, and you must try. You view your self-destruction on my behalf as a way of honoring me, but I do not feel honored. I feel heartbroken. I love you too much to feel anything else. I simply cannot go peacefully if this is what I leave behind. Honor me with your survival. Honor me with your forgiveness. And then I can rest, and one day, we will both be happy.”
He remembered every sleepless night, every time he fell to his knees in the middle of the day and sobbed. Every time he saw his parents in Asa’s bedroom, and walked away quickly, knowing he didn’t deserve to grieve with them. He took her life and, in return, made his own unlivable. It was the absolute least he could do. He couldn’t imagine a life beyond that anymore.
And yet. Silas could see the desperation in her eyes, the pleading. The love. To deny her only request would be a decision he’d make for his own sake, not hers. I simply cannot go in peace if this is what I leave behind.
“I forgive you,” she said again, emphasizing each word. “I am not sad to have died or to have remained as a ghost. I am only sad to see you consumed in misery. It breaks my unbeating heart, and it is not to be endured.”
By this point, the tears were streaming down his face uncontrollably, but he strained his ears to listen. He wanted to hug her tightly, wanted it so badly he could hardly breathe, but he knew she would only pass through his arms. “Grant yourself permission to heal. For me, but especially for yourself. Set down the weight of your guilt and walk freely. I cannot force you to do it; it must come naturally. But I can tell you where my heart lies, and I hope that’s enough to ease your burden.”
She waited a moment to let the words sink in, then pointed at another checker piece. He wanted to forget the blasted game, but it was likely the only thing keeping him from completely spiraling. She must have known it when she asked him to play.
He looked down at the board to make his next play and realized there were no moves left. The game ended in a draw. His gaze drew back up to his sister, who was smiling at the board as if she had already won. It was fascinating, Silas thought, how her victory didn’t seem to require his defeat.
“I want to forgive,” he whispered, not realizing until he said the words aloud how true they were. The only thing worse than grieving Asa’s death was enduring the guilt of killing her.
It was all-consuming, his own personal Hell. If there was a life beyond that, one where they could both move on and be happy again… “But I do not know how.”
Asa nodded. “It may not always be easy,” she admitted. “But you must treat yourself with compassion as you would treat me had the roles been reversed, and it very easily could have been. Your attempt with the cake was simply a misguided act of love, not proof of your innate evilness.”
To his surprise, she laughed at the thought. “Evil, the very idea is absurd! You are more deserving of love, compassion, and happiness than most people can ever hope to be. You must remember that and trust that I would not say it if it were not the truth.”
Silas felt the words tear through his chest, nearly choking him, and he nodded. He looked at Asa, truly looked at her, and found that he didn’t just see the girl he’d killed. He saw the sister he’d laughed with, fought with, bossed around, and looked after. And he saw something else, too. She was every bit his sister, but there was something different to her now. She was wiser as if her death had somehow matured her. Or maybe anyone other than Silas would be more objective and more logical. Maybe if the situation was reversed, she’d be the erratic and irrational one, and he would be serene and collected.
He saw the person he loved most in this world and any other. Her opinion was everything to him, and if she truly thought he was worthy of love, he couldn’t possibly be so bad. It wasn’t an immediate cure, but it was the first flash of hope he’d seen in eight months.
“I will try,” he said and saw her smile–truly smile–for the first time since her death. “But I admit, I fear losing you once you rest. I do not know how to live my life without you, and I have no interest in learning. How can I be expected to wait so long until I see you again?”
At that, Asa gave him a little smile. There was a bit of arrogance in it but a bit of fondness, too.
“I’ve learned that the living are much more impatient than the dead. I can wait, and I will do so happily if only you live a life that is worth my waiting.”
And he buried his head against the checkerboard, sobbing and gasping and letting the pieces stick to his face. He would do it, he thought but was not stable enough to say out loud. He would attempt forgiveness, and he would succeed. He would live and tell his Asa of his life when they finally reunite. He felt as if he’d agreed to climb a mountain–terrified and anxious, but with a small, faraway surge of excitement. It was as if there was a small light hovering far, far away from him, but for once, the distance felt possible to reach. Not easy, but possible.
A long moment passed before he lifted his head to tell this to Asa and realized she was no longer there. Her business was finished, and she had passed. He felt a wave of grief at the knowledge of losing her again, but alongside it, a sense of hope, somewhere deep inside him. She had finally found peace, and he knew that one day, he would, too.