I don’t want to go, but a much bigger force compels me to return. The life of Echo Brown fills my consciousness. I remember. Cleveland. Dartmouth. My mother. The forgiveness. My father. My sweet brothers, whose prayers for me I heard before the tunnel of light. Dear God, please watch afta my sister up dere wit all dem white people. Please make sure she stay safe and bring her back to us eventually. Not just their prayers, but my mother’s and father’s and friends’ and teachers’ and strangers I encountered only once in a grocery store, praying for me:

Keep her in grace, Lord, that’s my baby girl.

There’s a little girl in my class this year. I want her to make it, God. Let me do my part to ensure that she does.

What a sweet woman, I hope she has a good life, a fulfilling one.

And Earnell’s, Gabby’s, and Keli’s prayers from the banks of the river:

No, please, no, God. Please don’t take her from us. Not like this.

Bring her back! Bring her back to us

Earnell begs while pumping his palms against my chest. He is crying now, weeping, and shouting, “Echo! Please!” Someone tries to pull him away, but he overpowers them and starts once again. Ambulances blare in the distance. The river churns, lapping at the shore, as if she too is pleading to be forgiven for actions she didn’t intend.

Their testimonies would all be different, but many would swear that some entity leaped up out of the water. A supernatural force. As soon as it hit my body, I heaved dramatically, coughing up water. “It was a fucking miracle,” one would exclaim. “She was dead,” another would report, “for at least five minutes. How is any of this possible?”

Earnell, Gabby, and Keli would not ask any questions. They would just sit, sobbing, their heads in their hands, taking turns hugging me and welcoming me back. They would carry this moment forever and understand deep down, from the wade-in-the-water place, the tremendous power of the beyond.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Everyone is watching me. The air buzzes with electricity as unblinking eyes wait in anticipation of my first words. The final theater performance. An original monologue.

After nearly drowning, it was hard to finish preparing for the final theater performance. I was caught between worlds, both of which seemed stunningly real to me. I could not shake the serene memories of the ancestral realm. I yearn, even now, for the peace of that supernatural place. Jennifer says I had a “near-death experience.” I raced to her office when I got out of the hospital to tell her all about it. “I’ve always believed some things transcend science,” she says. “I am so happy you are still here.”