Liminal State
written by: June Wolfman
Rachel Conan parked her Toyota Corolla in an open space at T-Mart and Gas. She took a swig from her coffee carafe and decided to call her daughter to see if there were any signs the baby was coming yet.
“Lisa? How are you? Any movement?”
“I’m starting to get cramps, Mom, but I don’t think it’s the real thing yet.”
Rachel felt a pang in her stomach. Lisa had two children, and both deliveries were high-risk and complicated. She could swear that she felt her blood pressure rise. That kid is a champ, having more children after that last delivery. Rachel said a quiet prayer for Lisa.
“I’ll be over in a jiffy. I’m at the corner market picking up a lottery ticket for your dad. You know how he is when the jackpot gets high like this!”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll feel better with you here. Aaron is doing two long surgeries today. The nurse said not to interrupt him if at all possible. So, I get it. It’s one of those days. How was school today? How were those two kids in your Upper-Level science class?”
Rachel grimaced. She felt nauseous thinking of the two kids in her Upper-Level class. She felt her hands form into balled fists. “Oh! What a trial with those two! Then a long staff meeting! I’ll tell you about it when I get there. See you very soon!” Rachel looked at her balled fists and slowly released the tension in them. She felt these two boys were always giving her heartburn. She felt tears begin to form, but blinked them away. I will get on top of the situation, she thought.
Rachel slipped her L.L. Bean bag over her shoulder, locked the car, and walked into T-Mart.
Then there was a loud explosion, and then — just light. Light in front of her. Light all around her. She felt like she was floating. Love! She was surrounded by love! She felt the presence of her Bubbe, the grandmother on her mother’s side, holding her tight.
“What is happening? Have I had a stroke?”
Bubbe, dressed in her calf-length, flowered dress, answered, “No, Bubala, you were shot, and you got trapped here in the liminal space. You’ll be out of here in a little while. Don’t be afraid. I can tell you from my heart, either way, you have nothing to worry about.”
“Either way?! But Lisa needs me!” Rachel felt panic surge through her. She looked at her Bubbe. Bubbe’s wrinkled face formed a kind smile.
“I can only visit you here for a minute. Listen, don’t worry about Lisa right now. Lisa only has stomach cramps. She’s going to settle down in just a minute. She won’t deliver for a few days.” Bubbe faded away.
More Love, from her father. “Rachel?” he said. “Hello, my little one!” Her father wore his felt hat and his grey overcoat. His chestnut eyes shimmered.
“Daddy, it’s so good to see you! How are you?”
“Always you ask me how I am! I’m terrific! You are not so terrific, but it will probably be okay. I must soon go.”
“Probably?”
“Probably, baby.”
Her father faded away.
Suddenly, Rachel felt a whoosh, and she emerged in a large, sectioned area. She felt weak. She leaned on the wall to steady herself. One section resembled a 1940s infirmary, complete with sliding curtained screens that revealed wooden hospital beds. A second area seemed to be like a church with pews, and dozens of golden women with wings knelt praying. The third part of the room had her favorite type of Art Deco chairs, maple desks, and side tables. The walls in the sitting room were clad in her favorite maroon fabric.
Scurrying around the old-fashioned hospital beds were something like nurses or doctors, as well as what sure looked like two lawyers, one in a brown-tweed suit and the other in a black-pinstripe three-piece suit. She walked over, with almost a compulsion, and saw two bodies on the beds. One was a young man, maybe eighteen. He had a wound somewhere because his clothes and face were bloody. The other was her! And, she had a wound in her chest.
One caretaker poured silver pellets into her wound. The blood stopped flowing.
“Bubbe said I was shot?!” she called out to everyone.
One of the lawyer types said, “You walked into the market. This kid, he’s seventeen, was holding them up; he got spooked and involuntarily shot you. Medics are rushing you to the hospital. You are alive. The kid? The storekeeper shot him a minute after the kid shot you. He also might make it.”
Rachel looked at the young person who shot her, and with a jolt, she realized he was the same age as the kids she taught. It could have been one of her students if everything in the world had gone wrong. A river of anxiety for herself and the boy poured like ice water through her as if from a frozen Niagara Falls. This boy shot me?! Then she focused on his young face. She stared at his wounded body in shock. She heard ringing in her ears. Will he even survive? Will I?
As if reading Rachel’s mind, the brown-tweed lawyer said to Rachel, “My colleague and I facilitate discussion. Do you want the boy to speak to you for a second? I can arrange that.”
“Yes,” said Rachel.
The boy opened his eyes. “I’m sorry I shot you, ma’am. I didn’t mean to, honest.”
“Why were you holding up the store if you didn’t mean to shoot anyone?”
“I got scared. I wasn’t even going to load the gun. This was my first holdup.”
The boy, covered in blood, looked her straight in the eyes as he spoke, his bloody blonde hair awry over his forehead.
“Is that true?” Rachel asked in her best teacherly voice.
“No one can lie in this space,” said the brown-tweed.
“You have caused a great deal of suffering for yourself and me!” Rachel yelled at the boy.
“I found out yesterday I’m not graduating this year. I failed two classes, and I don’t have the credits now. I turn eighteen in a week. My father says I’m out of the house, and I’m on my own when I turn eighteen. I have no money. I figured I’d need some money, even if I became homeless. I got the gun from my friend.”
The black-pinstriped lawyer took notes. He brushed a shock of gray hair from his forehead.
“Are we going to live?” Rachel asked the brown-tweed-clad lawyer.
“That depends on many, many factors…too many to count. But just a few for you – there are the prayers of those you saw in the other space, always praying for you in a case like this; there is the skill of the medical professionals and the angels who accompany them; there are random things, and there is your will to live.”
The boy’s head fell back on his pillow, and his eyes closed.
Rachel felt faint and, with some effort, walked over to the sitting area several steps away from the beds. She crumpled onto one of the grand Art Deco chairs covered in lush maroon fabric. The maple desks and tables surrounding her brought her comfort and ease. She no longer felt like talking to this boy. She thought to herself, He is in so much trouble…I can’t help him.
A woman, head to toe golden and with golden wings tight against her back, slipped into the chair next to Rachel. “The boy is in trouble, that’s for sure.”
“Yes, but this was a stupid mistake,” said Rachel.
“Let’s talk about you for a second. Let’s talk about your teaching and those boys you are having trouble with.”
“They wouldn’t do a thing like this! They are just a little foolish.”
“You’re right. Maybe you should reserve your anger for a boy like the one who shot you. The boys you are teaching don’t need the level of anger you display. Your own sanity would improve.”
Rachel thought back to her most recent class with the boys.
A boy named Jeremy called out in class, “Mrs., this stuff makes no sense. Why do we even need to have cells in our bodies?”
Rachel remembered her response, “Jeremy, let’s first learn the material. Then we can do the ‘what ifs’!”
“Why?”
“Your question is beyond the scope of this lecture,” she had said.
The boy started to smirk. “If you are not very advanced, why teach, then?”
“Jeremy, that’s enough,” she screamed, “get out of this classroom! Go to the principal! Now!”
Rachel looked at the golden woman, wondering. Didn’t she handle that well?
“The boy was trying to be difficult,” said the golden woman, “but there was no need to get so angry. You see the boy in that bed? Now, he’s someone you can be angry at. He shot you! But he feels he has very little to live for. I don’t think he will live as a result.”
“What?” yelled Rachel. “He’s only a boy! Not even eighteen!”
The brown-tweed-suit lawyer knelt at the golden woman’s side and said, “He will be going to jail. He will be there a long time.”
“Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t live. It is not up to us. We just hold our breath for the best outcome, so to speak,” said the golden woman.
Rachel put her face in her hands, and her brown, shoulder-length hair covered her face like a veil. Her thoughts were swirling. The boy could live, but he would just suffer in jail… She wanted to discuss all of this. She lifted her head to listen better.
“He’ll suffer here, but with dignity,” said the brown-tweed-suited man.
The black pin-stripe man said, “I concur.”
“He won’t hang on in any case,” said the golden woman, “our pleading won’t help.”
Rachel gasped. The boy faded and disappeared. Rachel began to hyperventilate.
“I want to live, if I have an option on that!”
“She has a lot to live for,” said the pin-striped man.
The golden woman said, “You’ll have to hold on then. While you’re here, there are things about your life I’d like to discuss with you. Otherwise, it’s a missed opportunity.”
Rachel began to cry. Would her life be laid bare? That would be too much. Rachel began to weep harder.
The golden woman said, “Let’s not go over your whole life. We would become bogged down in minutiae. The real problem with you is that you think you’re better than other people. You never show your real emotions to your students, not that a full display is ideal either, but they are people, too, you know. You make sure you appear to be a model of appropriateness. You are too proud of yourself all the time. You think you are a saint practically.”
Rachel reflected on her behavior toward troubled students. She usually found a way to get them out of her class. She reflected on how she henpecked her husband. Yes, she acted like she knew it all with him.
“Heshcl, did you pack your medicine?”
“You gave me a packing list, love.”
“Did you pack your laptop charger?”
“You put that on the list, too.”
“Did you check your plane timing? Is it delayed?”
“No,” said the golden woman. “You’re fine with your husband.”
Yes, she was a know-it-all. She saw that now, but it went way deeper than that. Then she thought about how she had answered Jeremy that last class. She was trying to be perfect. But what is wrong with that? The highest standards are the best! But pride? That’s different. She had not seen this before, and she felt nauseous now. She also felt like she’d been spun in a circle and didn’t know who she was now. Without being prideful, who was she? She didn’t know.
Suddenly, there was a beeping near Rachel’s body. The caretakers placed their hands on her body’s chest. “She’s in surgery!” yelled one of the caretakers.
In the adjoining area, the golden women kneeling began to chant a hymn.
“With you thinking how you’re so wonderful, how do you think your students feel around you?” asked the golden woman.
“I don’t know.”
Rachel realized she loved being a know-it-all. She was a guide! She liked herself!
“If you go back, it will be hard, but you should fix this cardinal sin of pride.”
Rachel wanted to live. “I will try to see it in myself and be better if I return!”
“It’s not me who lets you. I just plead. It’s up to a thousand things. But back to your issue. You probably won’t see it clearly,” said the angel.
“She won’t,” she said to the brown tweed.
“But, I will try!”
“You should swear to try and see it, if you want my blessing, though that is a small help.”
“I swear.”
Another beep came from her body. The caretakers were holding what looked like her heart.”
“She’s coded and is being revived,” said one.
“Do you solemnly swear it?” asked the golden woman.
“I swear I will try,” said Rachel.
Rachel woke up in a hospital bed in Mount Sinai. To her left, her husband stood with his hand on her shoulder. Her pregnant daughter, Lisa, stood at the foot of the bed holding her belly. Her son-in-law, Aaron, stood to her right in messy scrubs.
“Mom?” said Lisa. “Mom? Are you awake?”
“Yes, darling. I am alive, awake, alert, enthusiastic,” she said hoarsely.
“What?” said Aaron.
“It’s what she used to make us say when we woke up in the mornings,” said Lisa, rolling her eyes.
It took Rachel months to recuperate and be up and around. After these months, and before the new school year started, Rachel called the district teacher mentor for some help. She spent Tuesdays at her office. They argued sometimes. Still, she tried to see.
After some grueling months, she returned to school. What if I have more trouble kids? Will I speak to them any differently than I usually do? Will I remember one iota of what the teacher mentor suggested?
On her first day back to school, Rachel entered her first class, which was Upper-Level Science.
“Ms. Conan?” said one student, “Is it true you were shot?”
“It’s true. It was awful.” Show my emotions, she thought.
“Is it true you almost died?” asked a girl in the front row.
“Yes, it was close if you ask me,” said Ms. Conan, “and…and… she thought…I’m supposed to show some of my feelings? And she said, “I was terrified. Do you mind very much if we don’t talk about it?”
“Maybe some other time?” said a boy in the third row.
Rachel thought for a moment. “Yes, maybe some other time. Right now, I would rather not get too upset.”
Rachel pulled out a chair and sat. “I think I’ll be easier to deal with as a result of my experience,” That seems right, she thought.
The class was silent, then several students let out sighs and smiled.
“You mean, no more ‘dragon lady?’” asked a long-haired girl.
The class laughed.
“Also, your misbehavior is almost always minor, and I shouldn’t be so thrown by it. You are just normal kids. Now, let’s start!”
Rachel got up and pulled down a drawing of a cell. She began to describe the organelles in it.
“How do you know there are cells?” asked a boy named Thomas.
Here we go, thought Rachel.
“We can see them after all, and you can take my word for it.” Oh God, that was not good.
“So, what if you’re wrong?” asked the boy. “What if what you think are individual cells are one large organism?”
“That’s a fascinating question,” said Rachel. That’s better, she thought.
“You mean you basically don’t know?” said the boy.
Not again.
“I am teaching you what I believe I know,” said Rachel gently, “but let’s keep track of your excellent questions for the end of the unit. And consider an experiment you might do to prove your theory. We’ll make time for it.”
Maybe better, she thought. “Give me a minute,” she said, and she rested her head in her hands. She thought, This is going to take a really long time. But whatever else I know… I know I am a teacher.
Then she jumped and said, “Despite my being a bit awkward today, anyone want to learn about jumping genes? It’s exciting! Newly discovered! Something no one knew!”
- Liminal State - January 16, 2026
