riverrun Vol. 47

Another Time by Kendall Johnson
58
“Have you ever lost someone, and then wished you could have them back? You
have the chance to do the impossible. Before you click the link below, think about
how life would be different if you were able to stop someone from dying. Would it
bring more peace, more hope, or would it have devastating results? Click the link
below to find out.”
The Dream Experiment from DE Inc. Capable of doing the impossible. With one
click on an email, those who have lost someone from tragedy can go back in time
and save them. Bullshit, I used to think when that commercial came on in the living
room at my house. A part of me couldn’t understand why someone would want
the dead to come back to life if they were already gone…
Early on the night of October 2, 2017, my phone buzzed from under my pillow.
Still lying down, I dug out my phone and stared at the screen until the letters on
the screen started to unblur. The name on the screen made my heart feel like it
was drowning, and a part of me knew what the call was about. I tapped the green
circle on the screen to answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Serena?” I heard her take a deep, shaky breath in the background. I could tell by
the way the lady’s voice cracked that it was Katie’s mother on the phone with me.
“It happened. She’s gone.”
Four simple words were enough to shake the once secure world around me. I sat
up in bed and my phone dropped to the floor in front of me. Putting on jeans and
a t-shirt was not a concern of mine, and instead I rushed out my front door in my
pajamas. I was confronted with the chilling breeze that night as I got into my
truck. The drive, and the arrival at the hospital, was blurry.
I remembered sitting in the hospital chair and staring at the body that was once
full of moments of unforgettable laughter and moments with tears from heart
shattering breakups. Her parents left the room, and with the almost numbing
quietness, I could hear their weak sobs. My eyes were fixed on her pale eyelids—
the eyelids that I knew held forest green eyes. Katie Reice, a girl who I spent 20
out of 24 years of my life with, someone who I considered my family, lost her battle
with Leukemia.
I stepped out into the hallway lit with lights so bright it stung my aching eyes.
My back slid down the cold,rough wall. There was nothing I could do, and I realized
the harsh truth of having a disease.
After hours of remembering, crying, and hugging Katie’s parents, I drove back to