Michael O'Rooke goes out for Halloween one night and has a life-altering experience. He dies.
And then he comes back to life.
Over the next couple decades, this happens again and again. Why, he isn’t really sure, but it allows him to live the way he's always wanted to, out and proud and free. He just hopes he's able to find love before he dies for good.
March 2011. The third time Mike died and came back, he had just watched a cat get hit as it crossed the road. The cat would not come back to life, though Mike would try to save it. And by the end of the day, Mike would lead his final regeneration.
It was early dawn, the sun not yet casting anything beyond a purple glow over the horizon, when Mike heard the crash. He rushed to his window with enough time to see a taxi that sped away from the building in the direction of the train station. A black cat was lying in the street, dying. Mike knew that feeling, and immediately rushed down his building stairs. He was only in his floral robe, his T-shirt and boxers pajamas underneath, but it did not matter. Mike would come.
Mike rose every morning at five in order to pray at his makeshift shrine. His Cleopatra costume was there, along with a few figures he'd cribbed from a Salvation Army section that reminded him of the priest and Nick's last night alive. A Mother Mary figure with her arms open; a Jesus votive candle, and a worn bookmark with Lazarus emblazoned in the center. He added some of his own flare to the shrine, such as a photo of Princess Diana, Elizabeth Taylor, and a childhood image of he and his sisters he'd found online when one of them friended him on Facebook. There were some prayer cards from various religions, too, mostly given to him on the dense streets of NYC where he still lived. Of course, his ankh was also there. He still did not consider himself religious in the least, merely respectful of all he had been given. He was alive when so many men and women weren't. So he would get up at five and say thank you, at the very least, before he went to his job in a local bookstore.
When Mike made it to the cat in the road, it was barely breathing. It's back legs were definitely broken, and it let out a cry that was a cross between a human lament and a wail of animalistic anger. Mike reacted on instinct: he took off his floral robe, bundled the cat up in its fabric, and went into his building only long enough to dress before he hailed another cab. He took the cat to the first vet he could find.
The moment he stepped under the harsh lights of the vet's office, the attendant swept the cat into the emergency area. Mike sat on the blue chairs and waited.
"I'm sorry, sir," the admin assistant said an hour later. "We were unable to save your cat."
Mike nodded. He didn't think it looked good. He was expecting this news. He met the admin assistant's eyes and was suddenly caught off-guard by the utter beauty they had. Blue, deep like the ocean. A young face, round like the moon, but with an older body, worn lean and thin with the passing of time. He couldn't have been any more than forty years old, but he seemed downright youthful compared to Mike's age, and all the lives he'd lived through so far.
"It's okay. I understand. Thank you for trying to help." Mike tapped his pants, and realized he didn't have his wallet. "I'm sorry. I don't have my card to pay for this. I live close by, I can be right --"
"It's okay. Give us your address and we'll mail you the bill. You can worry about it then. Just go home for now. Get some rest. And don't be afraid to call in sick," the admin assistant smiled. "Pets are still part of the family and deserve the time to mourn."
Mike nodded. "They are. And we do need that time. Thanks again."
