The Farthest Dock by Sonia Christensen

In high school people were always asking Gabe what it felt like to be dead. Because he did too much coke once and died for about twenty-five minutes. Almost every party, someone asked him what it felt like to be dead and he always said the same thing.

He’d start out by asking them if they remembered the farthest floating dock in the reservoir, the rickety one that you could barely see from the shore, the one that all the kids were always daring all the other kids to go out to but everyone was always like, no way. Up until that Troy kid did it and then it became a rite of passage type thing. He’d ask if you remembered all that and if you were one of the kids that went out.

And then if you said, yes, you’d been one of the kids who had gone out, Gabe would ask if you remembered how when you passed the last close-to-the-shore dock you’d be like, there’s no way I’m going to make it. You’d be sure about that. But then you had to keep going because if you turned around you were a pussy. And then if you made it to the dock, you’d be so tired you’d have to lie there for like an hour, it felt like, knowing that the way back was going to be harder because you’d be weaker and the water would be colder.

He’d ask if you remembered how when you were on that dock, so tired you couldn’t move, part of you would be like, I’ll just stay here. I’ll just stay here.

Being dead for twenty-five minutes was like being on that dock, he’d say.

I remember he told that story one time at a party while the bong was going around, everyone nodding along like he was singing us a song. I remember Riley, the kid who peed his pants in the seventh grade, looked up and said, “Well that doesn’t seem too bad.”

And Gabe was like, “I guess it wasn’t the worst thing in the world” and he blew out all the smoke he had just inhaled. “Maybe lonely.”

And everyone kind of nodded like that was a real wise thing to say and I guess it did sound pretty good.

The thing is, I never knew what to make of that story because I’m pretty sure Gabe never made it out to the far dock. I was with him the day that he tried. This was back when we were kids and it was just me and him, all the time. He got maybe halfway between the last close-to-the-shore dock and the far dock. I was watching him from the shore and I remember being able to see his pale torso and black hair stop moving forward and just bob in the water for a minute. And then he turned around and by the time he got back to the shore he looked like he’d lost about fifteen pounds and I remember it freaked me out how much he was shaking. He lay down in the hot sand and made me lie there too and we stayed there for a long time, not saying anything about him not making it even though I could tell it was bothering him bad. And neither one of us ever mentioned it again until people started asking him what it felt like to be dead.

Sonia Christensen lives and works in Boulder, Colorado. She graduated with a degree in Creative Writing from the University of Colorado in May 2012. She has a story published in Corvus magazine and another one accepted for publication in the fall in Devilfish Review.