The Choice

The Choice

Can I just be honest here? It may sound super weird, but it always creeped me out when I was left home alone. Sure, most teens my age would love to have the entire house to themselves, but I hated it. The weird thing is, I could never exactly pinpoint why. I mean, I’d had a great childhood, super spoiled, and there was nothing that would make me feel unsafe at home. Yet, without fail, every time I was left at home alone, a second after my parents closed the door, I’d feel a sudden heaviness in my chest, and I would jumped at every noise. It kinda sucked, and the day my life changed forever was no different really.

I had just made myself some microwaveable popcorn, and was taking it over to the couch to start catching up on my shows on the DVR when a sudden loud and incessant knocking made me jump and drop my popcorn all over the floor.

“Dang it!” I whispered to myself, my heart was racing and I knew I should be focusing my thoughts on who would be knocking - the knocking was still going on thud, thud, THUD - but I was trying to focus on just the popcorn, and I hoped whoever, or whatever, was knocking would just go away. I wasn’t that lucky.

After picking up all the popcorn and throwing it away, I was sure I had a migraine, and I was staring at the door wondering what kind of person or thing could possibly have the stamina to knock so intensely and without fail for that long. I sighed and told myself I was acting like a baby, so I walked over to the door, placed my shaking hand on the golden knob, twisted it, and opened the door. The next thing I knew, I woke up on the floor in some stranger’s house.

***

I mean, it looked like my house structurally, but it couldn’t be my house because all pictures of - well - me were gone. I was absolutely certain that I was in someone else’s house until I saw my parent’s wedding photo. I spotted the photo in it’s shiny, silver frame on the glass table in the hallway, and once I spotted it, I urgently started searching for pictures of me or us as a whole family. I just kept seeing happy pictures of my mom and my dad. Somehow, I knew that I wasn’t going to find any evidence that I ever existed in this house, I guess it was just instinct. It turned out to be right, too.

Just as I set down the last photo on the glass table, I heard the lock turn in the door - the door that I was certain I had just opened to that weird knocking - and it opened to reveal my parents, happy and tittering into each other.

“Mom,” I said, “hey.” I waved at her, trying to get her attention, but it seemed like she hadn’t heard me.

“Dad?” I asked, but he didn’t respond either. In fact, the two of them just walked right past me as if I was invisible.

I didn’t know what else to do, so I decided to follow them as they headed into the kitchen. The kitchen… I gasped as I saw how different it looked. Instead of our old, cheap tile that we had decided to put in to save money - my parents kind of struggled financially after having me - the kitchen had shiny, new-looking tile and a granite island took up a large chunk of space in the kitchen, yet somehow there was still room for an enormous, silver fridge and several updated kitchenware.

A realization dawned on me. I wasn’t back in time - as I thought was possible after not seeing my picture, but not seeing my own - I was in an entirely different world. I was somehow in a world where I didn’t exist, and it looked - so far - like my parents were better off.

My parents seemed to be in a better place financially, and even happier, and the only thing that seemed to have changed was my own existence. Was it possible that I made my parents lives that much worse?

As I thought this, a person suddenly appeared, dressed in grey suit, black shoes, and a light blue tie. He wasn’t someone that I recognized, and my parents didn’t notice him just as they hadn’t noticed me, so I assumed he was here for me.

“Who the heck are you?” I asked him, and my voice sounded shaky and weird.

“No one. Just someone here to guide you into making the right choice.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“The right… What choice? What are you talking about? I don’t even know you.” My voice was edging on hysteria. My gut was telling me what kind of “choice” I’d be making.

He ignored my question entirely and went on, “So, ask you might have figured out, you parents are in a significantly better financial situation without the drain of raising a child and sending him to a private school and saving for his college tuition.” He said all of this as if he was an on-air reporter stating the week’s forecast. He didn’t pause for questions, and he had no sincere emotion behind his words.

He continued reporting, “What you might not have noticed is the emotional situation that they are in without the stress of all that financial waste. Your parents are happier than ever, their honeymoon phase hasn’t ended, and it looks like they’re going to have a long, happy marriage.” The last few words were a stab in the heart for him. He learned just the other day that his parents had decided to separate, and every kid knows that means divorce.

“So here’s the question,” the heartless man wearing a suit stated, “would you rather continue being a drain on your parents emotionally and financially by ceasing to exist, or will you selfishly chose to continue being drain?”

“What do you mean? How can I chose to stop existing?” I asked incredulously.

“I mean instead of taking that door,” he pointed to a door I hadn’t noticed before. It was farther down the hallway and resplendent with a vivid, bright light, all I could see was the outline of a door. “You would take that door.” Then, he pointed back towards the front door which had now turned into a staircase that was pitch black and seemed to go straight down without end. “It’s your choice.” Then the mysterious man disappeared and I was left with the happy sound of my parent’s laughter.

How could I choose to just not exist anymore, what did that even mean? But also, how could I wreck my parent’s lives now that I can clearly see how happy they are without me?

Tears brimmed my eyes, and I had  no idea what I was going to do. I was just about to head back towards the staircase when I remembered something. My parents loved me. It may sound self centered, but they said it to me all the time. We had a really good relationship, and somehow I couldn’t see how my parent’s lives could be that much worse without me.

I decided to have faith that I could be a good thing for my parents, and I headed towards the blinding light.