by Bryan Cohen
Chapter 12
Erica slammed the car door and stepped onto the half-familiar driveway. She looked at the dilapidated basketball hoop and remembered playing one-on-one with her father. It wasn't really her father, of course, but there were parts of the former Erica's life interspersed throughout her real memories. It was a happy recollection, so she didn't mind it. Erica walked around to the driver's side as the sheriff rolled down the window. He was starting to come out of his stupor at just the right time.
"Remind me one last time where I found you, I'm drawing a blank."
"You ran into me at the train station," Erica said. "I'd gotten lost out of town and somehow made my way back here. You're a hero, sheriff."
He scoffed.
"Right place, right time. It's a good thing you're safe, Erica. I know you don't always feel it, but you're lucky. Lucky to have a town that cares about you."
The old Erica was hardly deserving of that care. The new Erica had no idea how her former inhabitant would have reacted to the outpouring of love and support everybody gave her parents. She likely would have asked to collect on the $2,500 scholarship the school was planning in her name.
"Thanks, sheriff. I appreciate all your help."
"If there's anything I can do, just let me know."
The sheriff didn't know the half of it. The way she had him programmed, he'd run into a fire and get third-degree burns to save her life. It was a power she hoped she wouldn't have to use. They said their goodbyes and the sheriff drove off.
Erica saw her mother moving around through one of the front windows. She'd remembered her phone number while they were at the pizza joint, and Erica gave her parents the heads up that she was coming home. Her mom cried so hard, it was impossible for Erica to understand the words. Like most missions, Erica felt terrible for not truly being the person who was coming back to her loved ones. The joy of the welcome home may not have been deserved, but it sure did feel good. She wished she'd been able to give her original parents the same satisfaction.
Erica walked past the red and yellow flowers that flanked the walkway. They were less perky than she remembered them. She reached the door and hesitated.
This isn't right, she thought. I'm not your true daughter. I don't belong in your home. I should be on the streets finding the living soul.
She raised a steady fist and knocked.
Her mother answered the door with her father close behind. Erica got her looks from her mom, and the two could pass for sisters in the right light. Her father was handsome, strong and cold. He kept that demeanor while her mother began to cry again.
"I don't know whether to hug you or scold you," her mother said.
A warm tear trickled down Erica's face. She wondered what would have happened if the old Erica had been scolded more when she was alive. Perhaps she'd still be around and the new Erica would be in a different body in front of a different door. Erica could feel how her former self would respond to her mother's line. Those reactions were waiting to burst out, but this wasn't the new Erica's first rodeo. She knew how to hold back the f-bomb the old Erica would blast before running up the stairs to her room. The urges to be the old her would fade in time.
"How about you hug me now and scold me later?" Erica said.
Erica's mother melted into her arms and let all the tears out at once. Erica buried her head into her mother's shoulder. The smell and touch of her skin felt like home. Erica looked up at her father. She could tell he was poised for a lecture.
"Daddy?" she said.
The one word, used in exactly the right tone, was enough to make him break down as well. He sniffled and joined the group hug. When they'd composed themselves, the three of them sat around the dining room table and ate cookies.
"What happened?" her mother asked. "Where were you?"
Erica told her mother that she ran away with a guy in his 30s, which wasn't completely untrue. She had been with a man when she was killed, even if she couldn't remember his face or name. She saw snippets of her final moments. Erica saw the woods around them and recalled hopping the fence at its shortest point. She remembered the knife, a shadowy figure, and her abdomen gushing with blood. That was the real truth, but she didn't think explaining her death and resurrection was the best tale to tell.
"I loved him and he took me to New York City," she said. "He stole my phone and abandoned me after a couple of weeks. I panhandled until I got enough money to take the train back."
After a month of her absence, Erica's parents would have believed any story she fed them.
"Tell me the guy's name," her father said. "He'll be rotting in prison for a lifetime after I'm through with him."
Erica's father was a high-powered lawyer and he always got his way. If her story hadn't been made up and she could remember the name of her killer, she'd gladly oblige him.
"Daddy, I'm just happy to be home. Can we worry about retribution later?"
Her father's nostrils flared.
"Sure, honey."
When they finished the cookies, Erica asked to go up to her room.
Her mother stared at her like she was some curiosity in a museum.
"What is it?" Erica asked.
"I just can't remember the last time you asked permission for something," she said. "For anything."
"Maybe things are in better perspective now."
Erica felt a lightness in her chest and walked up the stairs.
When you've been around for several hundred years, perspective is easy to come by, she thought.
Erica left her sneakers by the front door and let her feet press into the carpet on the way upstairs. Erica took a long, hot shower and watched the crusted blood wash away from her midsection. As she pulled a leaf that had buried itself deep within her hair, she thought about her body. The last two times she'd been to this world, she'd been a man. While she appreciated the extra upper body strength and lack of stares she got as a male, Erica preferred crossing over to a female body. People underestimated a woman's ability to take them out in a fight.
Gender aside, Erica wished she could do away with the teenage hormones. Despite her years of wisdom and experience, it was nearly impossible to overcome the yearnings of the body. The light souls who'd never crossed over couldn't understand any behavior that seemed like a diversion from the mission. Those who'd had the human experience described these emotional urges as a bright light beckoning them forward. She'd have to go back to high school the following day, and while there was homework to do and classes to pretend she was invested in, the hormones were the part that scared her the most.
Erica admired herself in the mirror. She no longer looked like she'd been pulled out of the dirt. Her form reminded her of her original body. She had to admit: this one was prettier. She ran a brush through her curls and touched her face.
"I'll try not to bruise you up too bad," she said.
Erica changed into a pair of pajamas and got to work.
It had been a few years since she'd crossed over, and it took her some time to get the gist of the latest news and social media. Once she did, reports of a teen fitting the description of her mission rose to the top of every site she checked. The living soul had become national news. Erica turned on the TV.
"We're live here at BDC, and we have just come upon an exclusive video of Ted Finley during his daring rescue today in Treasure," the newscaster said.
Erica didn't like the idea that everyone in the world would be able to see what the living soul could do, but she learned long ago that no mission ever went as planned.
"This is from the security feed at Page's Diner. The person on the left is Ted Finley. Now watch this."
Erica did. She saw a man come charging at the boy and go flying back in the opposite direction. He flew out of the security frame, and the TV switched to another feed instantly to show the man crash into a jukebox. The feed didn't give her a good look at the living soul, so she looked up his social media accounts. When his profile picture came up on he
r screen, she couldn't help but stare.
The old Erica had known him, and the memories washed over her, but they weren't strong enough to replace her initial reaction. The boy's face brought back a memory from several centuries in the past.
"William?"
Erica rubbed her eyes, wiping the moisture onto her pajama pants. She attempted to refocus on the image, but another glance confirmed it. He had the same cheekbones and the same dark hair. Right down to his hazel eyes, Ted was a carbon copy of a boy she'd known a long time ago.
The first time Erica saw William, she was on an errand to deliver a message from her parents. She didn't have powers then, or a higher cause. Erica was nothing but a shopkeeper's daughter. William was bony and he had a tendency to stumble over his words. He wasn't even able to get a complete sentence out when Erica handed him a message to give to his father. When their hands met on the exchange of the letter, she didn't care about any of his flaws. Her pulsing heart was enough to tell her how she felt.
Erica pulled up the video again. Ted didn't just look like William. He moved like him and had identical facial expressions. Erica closed her laptop and tossed her chair to the ground. The cushioned bounce it made against the carpet was hardly satisfying.
Erica wondered if her commanders had made the connection between a man she'd been engaged to marry and the boy she was supposed to protect. The smell of leather from his family's shop came back to her. Erica rubbed her eyes again and took a deep breath. She righted the chair and reopened the computer.
Ted meant something entirely different to the old Erica. She relaxed and saw the memories of their childhood together. Memories bubbled up of how her former inhabitant had abandoned her friend and buried the regret that came along with it.
"Looks like tomorrow, I'll be rekindling an old friendship."
She glanced over her shoulder at an overflowing closet. The amount of clothes she had to choose from would have made her weep during William's courtship. Erica shut out the memories of her first human life and her first love.
Ted is my mission, she thought. William is long gone.
Erica took a shirt off a hanger in her closet. From the look of it, the top would barely cover her midsection.
"Now to figure out what kids are wearing these days," she said.
Erica sighed and began her search.
