The old woman wearing a heavy blue-grey winter coat held her cracked leather handbag up to her ear, gave it a rattle. She swore she could hear a voice inside. Margaret was in the washing powders aisle of her local all-in-one store, stressed by indecision. It was a man's voice, but she could not make out the words, could not even tell what language he was speaking. Hungarian?She shook the bag again. This produced the shrill voice of a young girl. It was English this time, but the words were poorly articulated and muffled by the bag, too hard to understand. Margaret angled the bag differently and now a male spoke in a slow monotone with a Russian accent.
"Go to the rear of the store, to the door on the left, the bright pink one, and enter the secret code 1234." There was no more to be said. Intrigued, she shuffled with her ivory tipped cane to the very end of the aisle, which was replete with bewildering colours and diverse styles of packaging, each one trying to out-shout its neighbour about how new, improved and powerful it was. Around a corner, behind a shelf of things no-one wanted, she found the door in question. When she entered the code and pressed #, there was a click and the door unlocked itself. Gingerly, she pushed it open.
The largish room held a few sofas, but it was hard to see who was there, as it was semi-dark. The space was warm and smelt musty, but not unpleasantly so. The door clicked shut behind her, ominously, she thought. There was no keypad on the inside, so that she would not be able to unlock it. As her rheumy eyes adjusted to the reduced illumination, she made out a figure.
There was... could it be?
Unmistakable. It was Greg, her deceased husband. He had gone the way of all flesh five years earlier. What was he doing here?
"Hello, Greg," she said, her voice faltering.
"Hi. Nice to see you again, dear."
"Where are we? Is this Heaven or Hell? You're dead, you know?"
"Yes, I do know. You always state the bleeding obvious! This," waving his hand around, "is nothing grand like that. It's more like a holding bay."
"Did you send for me?"
"No, it was Xenia who did that."
"Who is this Xenia?"
"Oh, she's in charge here."
"Have you been here long?"
"Actually, no. Although five years have passed for you, it's only been about a day for me, though there are no clocks here. How have you gotten on since I left?"
"Oh, it was very hard at first, but I got used to it. I never thought I'd miss your snoring."
An awkward silence. Thoughts swirled in Margaret's head, vying with each other for expression, much like the competing brands on the shelves. Were Greg and she reunited? Did she even want that? What did he mean by holding bay?
Greg, "You're probably wondering why we are here together?"
"I sure am."
"Well," swallowing, "it's about unfinished business."
"How so?"
"I never told you, but I had an affair in my forties, long time ago."
"You bastard! Why tell me now?"
"Because I can't progress until I clear this."
"You want me to forgive you. Is that it?"
"No. Past wrongs cannot be remedied. Nothing is ever made right. I just want you to know..."
"Know what? Tell me already!"
"Let's not get into another argument here. I believe the stress of our shouting matches did my heart in, in the end."
"So now you are saying I killed you? Come off it man!"
"That's not what I meant. You never understand what I mean."
"Try me."
He grimaced and shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
"Well, it's not easy to explain. You see, life is a sort of school, or kindergarten is closer to it."
"Really?"
"Yes, if Xenia is to be believed."
"And you believe this bimbo?"
"She's no bimbo. Why do you always put other women down?"
"Nonsense. Anyway, what's this schooling business?"
"Well, to go into another life we need to finish whatever was left undone in the previous one."
"That would take another lifetime in your case!"
Ruefully, "Point well taken."
They sat down on plush chairs facing each other.
Greg, "I need to complete the relationship with you, that's my task here."
"You didn't do it all that well back in life, did you?"
"Hear me out. This is why I'm talking to you now."
"I'm listening."
"Why I had the affair had nothing to do with you."
"That's what all the cheats say!"
She glared at him angrily, causing him to look away.
Greg, "I just felt lost, closed down, isolated. And this lady at work flirted with me. God knows why."
"Go on."
"She offered me a beam of sunshine when I was most vulnerable. Besides, she had long hair and wore minis."
"Don't you bring that up again! I was never going to be your dolly-bird!"
"I know. I know. That was part of the problem. My problem."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that I should not have married you."
"Oh really? I wasn't good enough for you?"
Greg leant back in his chair and scratched his hair, while Margaret leaned forward.
Greg, "It's not that... It's that you and I were not right, not right as teachers for each other."
"You can say that again! You never learnt anything."
"That's too harsh, but neither of us could teach the other what we needed to learn."
"Such as what, for instance?"
"You needed to learn to trust. I wasn't the right person to help you learn this."
"Now that you mention it, you weren't particularly trustworthy."
"I'm really sorry about that."
"What did I fail to teach you, according to your guru, Xenia?"
"Her opinion is irrelevant. After passing, you do the well-known life review, when things become clear..."
For the first time, they looked straight into each other's eyes.
"So what did I fail to teach you?"
"You weren't the right person to teach me to be vulnerable, which is essential if one is to love."
"How so?"
"You were always concerned with mundane things, practicalities, money, the house. I felt I did not really matter to you as a person."
"That's simply not true!"
"Maybe it wasn't true, but it was the emotional truth for me."
Frowning, "Why didn't you ever tell me this? We could have worked through it."
"Didn't know how. I had no idea how to even start."
"So what's the point of hanging out the dirty washing here and now?"
"Saying it like it is, like it was, changes things. It's freeing."
"Do you feel free now?"
"That's not the right word. I feel unburdened, perhaps ready to start again."
"Where will that be?"
"No idea. You don't get to choose. The logistics of how the next life is chosen are a mystery."
Greg got up, wearing a faint smile.
Margaret, "So is that all you wanted to say to me, after 35 years of marriage? Weren't there some good times?"
"Of course there were. Our marriage was not a disaster, more like a mixed bag. There's much more to say, but we have little time here."
"You mean it's like speed dating?"
"Sort of. The idea is to focus on just one thing, not on a shopping list of recriminations."
"Just as well!"
"So, Margaret, dear, it's time to say goodbye. We may meet again... somewhere."
"Goodbye. Wish you a good next life. I mean it."
"You're a fine woman. Thank you. Ciao."
As the pink door clicked closed behind her, the bright lights of the supermarket drove out all memory of the dark room. Something extraordinary had happened, but the only trace was a turmoil of conflicting emotions, with no notion of their cause.
Margaret lunged for the first washing powder she saw and headed for the cashier, toting her now silent bag.