Voices

by R.E. Rowe

  “Tell me,” I say.

  She takes her time, as if she’s forming and editing words in her mind. “Grams said the only way to fully experience my present life is to be totally immersed in the physical me, you know in the body I'm in now. Think of my body as a game avatar with a bunch of attributes on sliders. None of it's fixed. My soul pairs with this body. Then I can adjust my attributes during a lifetime. If I work at it, I can become more giving, kinder, positive, and excited about experiencing the present. I'm not stuck in a static body for an entire lifetime. You know?”

  I really don't know how to respond, so I stay silent.

  "Dude, your face is twisted," whispers Bouncer. "It really isn't your best look."

  Honesty shushes him.

  Aimee looks out the open hospital room door, as if she is about to tell me a big secret. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

  I squint as if a brain freeze is coming on. “You mean living, dying, then coming back to life in another body as a baby? Like past lives in the movies?”

  She nods her head yes. “Yeah.”

  “To be honest, I’ve never really thought about it,” I say. “This life sucks enough as it is. I couldn’t handle thinking about another life.”

  "But that's the point," she says. "You can change it. When I was with Grams, she told me reincarnation is real. It’s why I wanted to come back to my current life.” She pauses and takes a couple short breaths. “I know it sounds crazy, but I came back to finish this life. I wasn’t ready for it to be over.”

  I scowl. “So, let me get this straight. After this life, we start a new life as a baby somewhere else in the world? We have things to do, but we’re not allowed to remember what things or anything else we learned from the past lives we’ve lived? We have to relearn everything from scratch in every lifetime?”

  I shake my head. “That’s the worst guessing game ever.” I realize I’m talking with my arms flailing, so I relax them. “Talk about a waste of time. Get born, grow up, and relearn the same crap over and over. The stovetop is hot, keep your fingers away from the car door, look both ways before you cross the street. What a bunch of bull.”

  Her jaw tightens. She touches my bicep and runs a finger down my forearm, making imaginary loops. “I know, I know. It sounds sort of inefficient.”

  “Sort of?” My shoulder muscles tighten. “It pisses me off. What kind of system is that? Throw us out into the world with things to do we can’t remember? Make us forget we come from a place full of love? We’re forced to live in a world of gray and relearn everything before having a few good years to do something important before we die? You know? Then the reincarnation part kicks in and we start over again. What a waste of time.” I let out a loud huff. “What’s the point?”

  “I know. I know,” she says with passion. “It sounds weird. But I think if we remembered everything about there during our lifetime, we wouldn’t try hard enough here. You know?”

  “So suffering is what life is all about?”

  I flash back to the pills I almost swallowed that first day I’d seen Aimee at the pond. My stomach sinks. If I’d actually gone through with my plan, well, I would never have met Aimee. The thought makes my stomach spin.

  Aimee gazes at me and tilts her head. I’m pretty sure she sees me blushing.

  Without warning, she leans in and kisses me as if we are a million miles from civilization.

  I kiss her back.

  “Oh God, my breath,” she says, holding a cupped hand in front of her mouth. “It must be gross.”

  I laugh. “It’s way better than my morning breath.”

  A glint of wow beams from her eyes. “I don’t think the point is to suffer—not at all. I think we’re all here to experience. To feel, because we can’t feel the same way when we’re there, in that place with Grams where I felt intense love and joy, but nothing physically. You know, like touching or smelling or tasting.”

  She yawns again. “Grams told me in order to fully appreciate how amazing we are, each one of us must live not knowing in order to rediscover it.” She squirms. “I don’t really understand everything Grams said, but I felt like I understood it when I was with her. It was like waking up after knowing you dreamed, but you’re unable to remember the dream. Weird, huh?”

  I try to understand. I get some of what she's saying, but other parts have me seriously confused. “It just sounds messed up. It’d be like having a teacher teach us something, then wipe our memory clean and give us a pop quiz on it. Seems like a royal waste of energy.”

  She rubs my forearm. “Or maybe it’s like me reliving the feeling I felt after running a marathon for the first time. Repeating the first times so we can experience them again. It felt amazing after I finished that first race. The run was painful and some of my toenails fell off, but I accomplished something big. Something I’d never thought I could do. Maybe living our life without remembering a past life is supposed to be like that. To experience life as if for the first time.”

  “Your toenails fell off?” I smirk.

  She slaps me lightly on the forehead. I notice there are more tears on Aimee’s face. I wipe them off.

  Her eyes shine with intensity and she speaks faster. “Reizo, I really changed after that happened. I’m not afraid anymore. My fear of life went away. I don’t care about material stuff. None of it matters.” Aimee stops to take a breath and collect her thoughts. “I know in my heart there’s an awesome place we all go to when it’s our time—a magnificent place. But I don’t feel in a rush to get there. I know I’ll get there when it’s my time. For now, I want to live without fear. Experience all of life. You know? Like being here with you. I want to work on being a better person. Helping people.”

  I smile.

  Aimee continues. “Now I believe life is about experiencing what isn’t perfect. Does that make sense?”

  I jump at the opportunity to tease her and lighten the moment. I notice something else that’s amazing - the voices had completely gone silent after Bouncer's last outburst, almost as if they're listening in. Then I hear Honesti sniffle and Bouncer sigh. It confirms my suspicions. They’ve been listening to Aimee too.

  I shake my head, hiding a grin. “So I’m not perfect, huh? Thanks a lot. What a way to burst a guy’s bubble.”

  She smiles. “No, I don’t mean you, silly . . . Well, I guess . . . I do.”

  My grin turns to a smile.

  The glow from her eyes tells me she’s passionate about her experience. But honestly, I’m still not totally buying everything. It’s hard to digest it all. I need some kind of proof to really believe everything.

  I turn my head and stare at her. “So, after we die we get reincarnated?”

  “That’s the feeling I got when I was with Grams. But we have a choice. In my case, I could either come back as Aimee or stay there. If I stayed, I’d start over from scratch to come back here again later in a different body.” she sighs. “I don’t really know how to explain it any better than that.”

  “I like your present body, personally,” I tell her. “Would you mind sticking around for a while?”

  Before she can reply, I lean in and kiss her again.

  "You too, okay?" Aimee says quietly.

  I whisper. “If reincarnation is how things work, why not let everyone remember some of the feelings you shared with your grandmother? You know? Give us a real hint or two once in a while without having to almost die like you did.” I pause. “If you ask me, the reincarnation game is flawed. Sort of like a video game that starts over at level zero when you die, forcing you to play again, giving you a different avatar with a different set of attribute sliders with no skills.”

  Aimee gazes at me as if I’d broken some kind of spiritual law. She lowers her voice. “I guess it might be motivation not to give up on your current life. At least not before you’ve had a chance to experience everything you can and adjust your sliders.”

  Her comment hit home. I’m at a loss for words.
>
  Aimee tickles my forearm. “Grams wouldn’t lie to me.” She sounds angelic.

  I soften my voice, letting each word linger in the air before I add a new one. “Some of what you’re saying makes sense.” I take her hand and gently kiss it. “But I still think the reincarnation system needs an upgrade.”

  A smile grows across her face, as if she’s enjoying our passionate discussion. “Oh really? And how do you propose upgrading it, Mr. 3D Tagger Boy?”

  “Add in hints. And let me know for sure I can adjust my avatar's parameters. You know, like in a video game? Give me a little proof or an experience like you had with your grandmother."

  “You mean die and come back? An NDE?”

  “No, nothing so extreme or painful. Maybe just a vivid dream, a clear sign, or something more cool. A hologram.”

  She rolls her eyes. “How about meeting someone who totally changes your life when you least expect it? How’s that for proof?”

  I shake my head and don’t have a comeback.

  "Nice one girl-friend," whispers Honest.

  "Bla-bla-bla," says Bouncer.

  “Seriously, Reizo. You don’t need hints or proof. You just need faith and to believe in yourself.”

  I know in my gut that she’s right. After all, she did save my life that first day we met.

  I feel so energized when I’m with him.

  I notice two empty chairs are pushed back against the hospital wall. “Where’s my mom and Hank?”

  Reizo smiles. “Your mom went to the cafeteria and Hank left for work. Hank is something else. He about broke my hand when we shook the first time.”

  I grin. “He may have been making a point.”

  Reizo opens and closes his right hand. “Yeah, I still feel his point.”

  I look down at my arm. It hurts in one spot, but my shoulder doesn’t ache like it did before. I gaze back at Reizo. Ever since he’d told me about the voices he hears, I’ve been curious about them.

  “I told you all about my visit with Grams and my philosophy on death, now it’s your turn. Tell me about your voices. You seem pretty normal to me.”

  He shakes his head. “Gee. Pretty normal, that’s me. Thanks a lot.”

  “No, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You told me they mess you up, but you don’t seem messed up. That's all.”

  Reizo fidgets and pulls at the bedspread. “The truth is, the voices have been talking and shouting nonstop, although they were quiet when you talked about your Grams experience.” He readjusts how he’s sitting. “I’m trying hard to focus only on you. When I do, I manage to force the voices into the background. Usually that never works, but I guess I haven’t had you to think about before now.”

  I get the feeling Reizo doesn’t even know how cute he is when he’s complimenting me.

  He doesn’t seem to mind my questions, so I continue. “How many voices are there?”

  “Two.”

  “Why two and not three?”

  “No clue.”

  “Have you ever tried to work a deal out with them?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. Give them some rules. Tell them to follow your rules or you won’t acknowledge them. You’ll ignore them and they won’t exist. Maybe tell them they can only speak when you ask a question. Or tell them they can speak if you ask them to speak. Maybe even tell them if they argue, you won’t listen to them ever.”

  “I tried most of those things. They just ignore me, keep talking nonsense, and ranting. Sometimes they scream and yell at me too.”

  “Then ignore them back. Imagine they don’t exist. When you hear them speak, don’t listen. When they yell, tune them out like you’re doing now. Pretend they don’t exist. Imagine they’re just a bad movie playing somewhere in the background.”

  He grabs his head and groans. “Easy for you to say.”

  I put my arm around his shoulder. “What? What’s the matter?”

  “Bouncer didn’t like your idea. He’s screaming bloody murder.”

  “Maybe he’s screaming because I’m onto something? Wait . . . Bouncer? You named the voices?”

  “Yeah, Bouncer and Honesti.”

  Interesting. The names are more like descriptions rather than names. “They sound like super heroes.”

  He makes a pained face. “Honesti likes the idea of super heroes, but Bouncer wants you to gag yourself and then kill me.”

  “I bet if you completely ignored them, they’d eventually give up trying to get your attention. Don’t you think?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe— ”

  Mom bursts into the room. She sees Reizo on the bed, gestures for him to get up, and then smiles at me. “Hi, dear. How you feeling?”

  Reizo gets her point. He fumbles moving off the bed, his face glowing red. He stands next to me, trying not to act embarrassed. He’s so cute.

  “Hey, Mom. My arm is sore. But I’m feeling a lot better now.”

  “The doctors have scheduled your surgery for late next week. You’ll stay here while they monitor your vitals and adjust your meds until the surgery. They insist you stay quiet until the surgery. No major strain. Got it?”

  “Surgery? Reizo tells me they put in something called a stent?”

  “That's right, honey. The stent helps with the blood flow, but in your case it’s only a temporary solution. Your heart valve needs to be replaced.”

  I sigh and stare at the ceiling. Reizo pats my hand.

  “It sounds bad, but it’s not. The doctors said it’s a routine heart valve replacement. They do lots of them every year.”

  “But why not just get it over with? Why are they waiting?”

  “Before the surgeon will operate, she needs to run more tests to make sure the rest of your heart valves are working as they should. All of the doctors want to observe you for about a week.”

  “All the doctors?”

  “Yes, you have three, plus the surgeon. They’ve taken a special interest in your case, dear.”

  “My case?” I suddenly remember the muddy leather bag. I stare at Reizo. “Where’s that leather bag?”

  Reizo glances at Mom.

  “Reizo gave it to me, honey. Where’d you find it anyway?”

  I feel my face get hot. “It was buried near the pond. Miss Aggie must have kicked up the dirt that hid it.”

  By the look of relief in Reizo’s eyes, I can tell he’s glad I didn’t mention the shelter.

  “Amazing,” Mom says. “I’ve got my colleagues at the firm looking over the paperwork. It appears to be the will of Wesley Rush. It’s really old, so we’re not exactly sure how valid it is today. We also found a letter that accuses a man named Isak Sarov of murder and fraud. It turns out he’s related to the Sarov’s in charge of the Isak Sarov Corp. The will might prove the original founder, Isak Sarov, had illegally taken over Wesley Rush’s land. It’s a long shot, but there’s a chance we might be able to get it back. It also mentions a man called General, but we have no idea who that could be.”

  Reizo tries to get a word in, but gives up when Mom doesn’t even pause for a breath. She’s in lawyer mode.

  She continues. “Today, the Isak Sarov Corp. owns over fifty percent of the land in Franklin County. And your uncle is pretty excited about the gold coins. He says they might be worth over a million dollars, depending on their dates. Most are from the 1870’s and 1880’s—”

  Mom’s cell phone rings. She silences it and gives us both a distracted nod, glancing back down at her cell. She kisses me and then walks toward the door. “I need to get back to the office. They have some news about the Last Will and Testament. The partners are excited.”

  I know when Mom puts her mind to figuring something out, she always does. She can get intense, but she can be just as loving.

  When Mom reaches the doorway, she stops and looks at Reizo. “Reizo, can you stay with Aimee?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Reizo says and straightens his shoulders. “I’ll guard her with
my life.”

  “Great.” Mom waves.

  I hate hospital smells. Noises all night long. Bright lights. Empty eyes. Sad faces. Crying. Being in this hospital with Aimee brings back painful childhood memories. Memories I thought I’d forgotten.

  I was wrong.

  After watching fireworks at a New Years Eve fireworks celebration when I was ten, a snoring truck driver hit our car head on outside of Chicago. Dad died instantly. Mom suffered bad injuries, but not life threatening ones. Two broken legs and other injuries meant physical therapy for me. But my physical pain was nothing compared to losing Dad.

  Snap, life changer in an instant. That was when Honesti and Bouncer moved into my skull to drive me insane.

  Aimee sits up and stretches. “Hey.”

  “Have a nice nap?” I ask.

  She nods and watches me place a tray of painting supplies on the bed in front of her, as if she’s going to eat a TV dinner. “I brought you something.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yep.” I grab a blank paper, fill up a plastic cup with water, open up her watercolor set, and sit next to her on the bed.

  “Looks like fun. Do the nurses approve?”

  “They didn’t stop me. Probably part of a don’t ask, don’t tell policy.”

  She chuckles. “You’re such a bad boy, rule breaker.”

  “Nah, I only break the stupid ones.”

  Before long, we’re holding hands, painting together, and listening to the cello music playing from Aimee’s cell phone.

  A knock on the door causes us to both look up.

  It’s Steve Baxter, the hospital’s five donut-per-day security guard. He abruptly walks into the room. At six-foot four, two hundred and eighty pounds-plus, he looks intimidating. But he’s the nicest guy I know at the hospital.

  “Can I get you two anything?” Steve asks. His high-pitched voice sounds like a soprano choir singer.

  “We’re good,” I say. “Thanks, Steve.”

  “Sure,” Steve says. “If you do, just tell your nurse to call me. Oh, and I told her you have permission to paint in bed.” He winks and leaves as abruptly as he’d arrived.

  “You know him?” asks Aimee.

  “Yeah, he’s cool. I met him in the cafeteria when you were still in the ICU. He takes his job seriously. The dude cares about everyone walking into his hospital, unless they cross him. I guess we sort of bonded.”