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25
After patiently comforting me, Naomi finally led me down the hill to a large, white, stone building. "This is the Welcome Center," she said. "There are people here who can answer any questions you have and help you get settled."
"Get settled?" I asked, following her through the large doors into the building.
"That's right," she said. "Most people like to get in touch with family or friends who may already be here."
"Here," I repeated, the words not really sinking in.
"In Aphter," she said.
"After," I repeated.
"Aphter is the name of the town, here," she said. "No one remembers who named it, or how long ago." She pointed to a large message carved into the foyer walls of the building. "Welcome to Aphter," it said.
"Aphter," I read aloud.
"Right," she said. "It's a good place."
"So," I asked, looking Naomi in the eyes for the first time since my breakdown on the hillside, "is this heaven?"
She stopped walking. "People ask that a lot," she said.
"I would think so."
"Well, we have teachers and priests from many religions that can talk to you about that," she said. "Would you like to speak to one?"
I stood considering the question, wondering if I wanted to speak to a minister or a priest. When I was a kid, my mother took us to a Methodist church once in a while. Since leaving home, I had only been once. I had woke up early on a Sunday morning about a year ago and, wanting to get out of the house, I went out for a cup of coffee. Driving around and bored after the coffee, I drove by a large, nice-looking church. I didn't even know what kind of church it was. The building was very old and beautiful and, seeing that it was time for service, I parked and went in on a whim. It was a very traditional sort of service, with standing and sitting and reciting, and I just sat in the back row and watched. The preacher or priest or whatever spoke about justice, a rather liberal message, and I enjoyed it. One thing he said stuck in my mind. "Justice is both the least and the most one should expect from a healthy society." I wasn't sure what he meant, but I liked the sound of it.
"No, that's okay," I answered finally. "It's a little late now."
She smiled. "Well, let us know if you change your mind," she said. Then she led me through a doorway into a very large room with rows and rows of large, wooden tables and comfortable chairs. Some of the tables were empty, but many, many of them were filled with people. A lot of them had people in robes like mine on one side, alone, and two or three official-looking people sitting across from them. At some of the tables, other people sat beside the robed people. I got the impression that these were reunited friends and family of the robed arrivals. "Here we are," she said, stopping at one of the large tables where a man with light brown hair, a close-trimmed beard and casual business clothes stood as we approached.
"Hello," said the man. "My name is Daniel. Welcome." He reached to shake my hand.
"Hello," I said, shaking his hand. "Thanks."
He waved his hand and indicated that I should have a seat. I sat down and he did as well. Naomi, I was a bit disappointed to see, went around and sat beside him across the table.
"And who do we have here, Naomi?" he asked.
"He has not remembered his name yet." She turned toward me. "Do you feel up to trying to remember?"
"Uh, sure," I said.
"Don't worry too much about trying to remember too many things," she said. "It will come to you in time. Just see if you can think of your name."
"Okay." I closed my eyes and wrinkled my forehead, trying to force my name out of the air.
"Relax," said Daniel. "Let me ask you a couple of questions."
"Okay," I said.
"Tell me, is your mother a good woman?"
I opened my eyes and looked at him. "What?"
"Your mother, is she a good woman?"
"Of course she is!" I said.
"You remember her?" he asked.
"Of course I remember my mother!"
"Then what is her name?"
"Virginia," I said. "My mother's name is Virginia."
"Virginia what?" he asked, writing something on a paper in front of him.
"Virginia Alice Hall," I said.
He wrote it down. "Of course she is a good woman, Mr. Hall," he said. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise."
"Wow," I said. "That's pretty impressive."
"Well, we do this a lot," Daniel said. "So your mother is still alive, Mr. Hall?"
"Yes," I said.
"And your father?" he said.
"No. My father died when I was a teenager," I said. "He was killed in the line of duty."
"Was he a soldier?"
"He was a police officer," I said.
"And what was his name?"
"Wayne," I said. "Wayne Alan Hall, Sr."
Daniel and Naomi looked at each other. "So you are Wayne Alan Hall, Jr.?" he asked, smiling.
"Yes," I said. "Alan. When he was alive they called him Wayne and they called me Alan."
"Alan Hall," Naomi said, smiling. "It's a nice name."
"Thanks," I said. "It's Al. Everyone calls me Al."
"Al is a friendly name," she said. "Welcome, Al."
"Al," Daniel said, "where did you live? What city?"
"Texas," I said. "Fort Worth, Texas."
"Right," he said. "Well, Al, I'm going to go and look your name up in our records to see if anyone is waiting to see you."
"Waiting to see me?"
"Yes," he said. "Like your father, for example."
"Oh, right," my heart jumped at the idea. It was so obvious, but it hadn't occurred to me yet. "Dad," I said.
"I might be talking out of turn, Al, but I have to tell you that I know a Wayne Hall from Texas. I know him well."
"You do?"
"I do. In fact," he exchanged a knowing look with Naomi, "almost everyone in Aphter knows Wayne Hall from Texas," he said.
"Oh yes," she agreed.
"Really?"
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