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Wally walked beside his friends—Janet, Dawn, his girlfriend Maddie, and her best friend Simon.
Dead leaves crunched beneath his shoes as they moved forward, the sound echoing softly through the quiet woods. He kept his eyes ahead, scanning for a familiar door. His door. Or maybe one of the others that might lead them back.
“Look,” Simon said suddenly.
They all slowed to a stop.
Across the water, the pastor stood tall and still, surrounded by the choir children who had died in the flood. Their figures shimmered faintly in the dim light.
“He did it,” Simon said, awe creeping into his voice. “He made it back to them.”
Wally stared.
“Woah,” Simon breathed. “The pastor crossed over.”
Wally couldn’t tear his eyes away. He’d always thought that once you were forgotten, crossing over wasn’t possible.
So what changed?
Did it happen because Simon remembered him?
“Maddie?”
The voice came from behind them.
A woman’s voice.
Wally turned first, curiosity pulling him around.
Maddie, on the other hand, looked like she was about to lose it.
“Does anyone else hear that,” she asked tightly, “or is that just in my head too?”
“No,” Wally said quickly, nodding. “I definitely heard that.”
The voice sounded… familiar.
Leaves crunched softly as the mystery person approached.
An older woman stepped into view. She had pale eyes and platinum hair that caught the light.
“Your father sent me to—”
The woman—Bea—stopped mid-sentence.
Her gaze shifted away from Maddie.
It landed on the boy standing beside her.
Wally had gone completely still.
Standing straighter than he had in years.
“Mama!”
The voice snapped Wally’s attention away from the present.
It was his own voice.
Younger. Brighter.
Even without looking, he knew what he would see in the reflection. So he didn’t turn, he didn’t want to get stuck.
“Oh, Walter-Walter,” Bea cooed warmly, crouching down and running a soft hand through his hair. “My sweet boy. You’re getting so big.”
The younger version of him beamed up at her.
“I wanna dance when I grow up!” he declared proudly, a bright smile spreading across his face.
Bea chuckled softly and shook her head.
“No, dear,” she said gently. “Dancing’s too feminine.”
Her hand smoothed his hair again.
“Maybe we’ll get you into football instead. It’s the family sport.”
Wally felt his stomach twist.
“Walter?”
Bea’s voice trembled.
For a moment she looked like she might collapse, her knees buckling as the color drained from her face. Janet darted forward, catching her arm before she could fall.
“Easy—” Janet murmured, steadying her.
But Bea barely seemed to notice.
Her eyes were locked on the boy in the football jersey.
On the face she knew better than her own.
“Walter?” she whispered again, breath shaky.
Wally felt something tighten painfully in his chest.
“Mom..?”
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
He took a hesitant step forward, trying—failing—to ignore the tears burning in his eyes.
“Oh, my baby.”
Bea pulled away from Janet’s steadying grip and rushed toward him.
“You look… just like you did back then.”
Her hands hovered near his face, almost afraid to touch him.
“Oh, my baby,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry. Mommy’s sorry. You were in pain, and I should have listened… Mommy’s so sorry.”
Wally stood rigid in front of her, unsure what to do.
What to say.
At first—when he died—he’d been angry.
Angry that she made him go back onto the field.
Angry that she hadn’t listened when he said something felt wrong.
Sometimes he wondered…
If she hadn’t pushed him to play that day, would he still be alive?
But thirty-something years was a long time to exist as a ghost.
A long time to think.
About himself.
About the dreams he never got to chase.
About his mom.
His sister.
His dad.
His friends.
And all the things that had once felt so big… slowly started to feel smaller.
Bea’s hands trembled as they hovered in front of him, like she was afraid he might disappear if she touched him.
“Walter,” she whispered again, voice cracking.
Wally swallowed hard.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then he stepped forward.
Slowly at first—like he wasn’t sure this was real either.
Bea gasped softly when his arms wrapped around her.
For thirty years, Wally had watched people pass through him.
Cold.
Weightless.
Untouchable.
But this—
This felt real.
Her arms locked around him instantly, crushing him against her as she broke into quiet, shaking sobs.
“Oh my baby,” she cried into his shoulder. “My sweet boy… I’m so sorry.”
Wally squeezed his eyes shut.
He hadn’t cried when he died.
He hadn’t cried during the decades that followed.
But now the tears came anyway, silent and unstoppable as he held onto her.
“I know,” he murmured quietly.
It wasn’t anger anymore.
Not after all this time.
Just something softer.
Something tired.
“It’s okay, Mom.”
Behind them, the others had gone quiet.
Maddie watched with damp eyes, Simon standing beside her with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.
For once, no one said anything.
Some moments didn’t need words.
I kept going to the games,” Bea admitted shakily. “After you—”
Her voice broke, the words dying in her throat as a sob escaped instead.
Wally’s expression softened.
“I know,” he said quietly.
Bea looked up at him.
“I saw. I was there, Mom.” His voice was gentle now. “Right next to you.”
For a moment, Bea just stared at him, confusion flickering across her tear-streaked face.
“You… you saw me?”
Wally nodded slowly.
“Every game,” he said. “You sat in the same spot.”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
All those nights in the cold bleachers.
All those games she watched through tears.
She had never been alone.
“I talked to you sometimes,” Wally admitted softly. “You just… couldn’t hear me.”
Bea let out a broken sound before pulling him into another tight hug.
“Oh, Walter,” she whispered through tears. “My poor boy…”
Wally held her just as tightly this time.
When Bea finally pulled away again, she wiped at her cheeks before looking over at Maddie.
“We need to get you back—now,” she said, her tone turning more serious than before. “Your body has been vacant for too long.”
Maddie stiffened slightly.
“Come,” Bea continued gently, gesturing for them to follow. “To my door.”
She turned and began leading them back the way she had come, still holding tightly to Wally’s hand—as if letting go might make him disappear again.
“Dave comes here sometimes,” she told Maddie as they walked. “Your father.”
Maddie’s head snapped up at that.
“If you can find your door,” Bea continued softly, “you can move freely between the two worlds.”
The leaves crunched beneath their feet as they followed her through the trees.
Wally stayed close beside his mother, her grip on his hand warm and steady.
After thirty years, he still wasn’t used to being able to feel it.
“Mine will lead you straight to the hospital,” Bea said, glancing between Maddie and Simon.
She studied Simon for a moment longer, her brow knitting slightly.
“And you,” she added gently, “aren’t dead.”
Simon blinked.
Bea gave a small nod, as if confirming her own thought.
“I can tell by the way you move,” she explained. “By the way you look at things. The living carry themselves differently.”
Then they reached Bea’s door.
She grabbed the handle and forced it open, the door groaning as it swung wide.
Light spilled through the doorway.
“Go!” Bea ordered, her voice suddenly sharp. “You two—now!”
Maddie didn’t hesitate.
She grabbed Simon’s wrist and bolted through the doorway, pulling him with her.
Halfway through, she twisted back toward the others.
“Guys, come on—hurry—!”
The door slammed shut.
The sound echoed through the trees.
Silence fell.
Janet. Dawn. Wally.
And Bea.
Left standing on the wrong side.
Wally and Bea stood beside one another.
Thirty years ago, death had taken her son.
Now it had given him back.
Maybe not in the way she would have chosen.
But still.
Now they were together.
Forever.
…Or at least, for as long as death allowed.