by Ann M. Noser
“Wait, I think I read about this.” I recall my research last fall. “Don’t spirits hover near earth for a year after death and can only be brought back during this time period?”
“Yes, and if no one calls you…” Bernard sighs.
“You miss your chance,” Steve finishes.
“But don’t you want to pass into the brightness?” Mike says. “I do.”
Really? Oh no! Maybe he didn’t want to come back after all. My cheeks flush. I’ve failed him again.
“I realize that the rest of you are positive you’re going to heaven,” Steve begins. “But you can’t know for sure now, can you?”
“Why not?” Mike asks. “What did you do wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Steve shrugs. “I can’t remember.”
Steve kind of freaks me out. Bernard doesn’t seem so bad, but I sure wish I didn’t have to deal with Steve. “So, how did you escape…after you assaulted Saint Peter with a chair?”
Bernard clears his throat. “We ran out the door and floated upward until we reached a ceiling of ice. I found a crack and slipped out.”
“Wait,” I say. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither did the nice young lady outside in the snow playing with her dogs,” Bernard says.
“You mean Laura?” I ask.
“Yes,” Steve says. “Laura asked us why we didn’t have a body to borrow like Mike did. We looked like shadows instead.”
Bernard takes over again. “Then she read us your address because she thought you would know what to do. But I don’t think we needed it.”
I shake my head, trying to make everything fit. “I’m still not getting this.”
“We were drawn here.” Steve watches me closely, like he doesn’t trust me. “Laura just disappeared, and the world whirled by, faster and faster. We didn’t stop until we got here and entered the body.”
My stomach convulses. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Steve grabs my arms. “So can you help us…or not?”
I take a deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate. “Although I appreciate Laura’s belief in my skills, I’m afraid she might have exaggerated my talents with the undead.”
Steve throws up his hands. “Well, that’s just great! Now what are we going to do?”
I watch them in the mirror as they argue about cutting in line and going first. The three of them look like an untidy, crowded sales rack: heads, arms, and legs popping out all over the place, flashing different patterns of shirt sleeves and pant legs and hair.
“Quiet everybody!” I demand. “Now what’s going to happen here is this: you’re all going to wear the same style of clothes, and be very careful when speaking in public. Otherwise, you’ll freak people out with all of this glimmering, shimmering, and voice-changing nonsense.”
An impatient knock on the bedroom door interrupts our impromptu meeting.
“Emma,” my mother’s voice rings out, “what is going on in there? It sounds like you’re having a wild party. Now I like parties, but only if I’m invited.”
rush out of the bathroom, push my way into the hall, and snap shut the door behind me. “Oh, Mom, we’re just goofing around with the stereo.”
Mom pulls me a few feet down the hallway and speaks in a hushed tone. “Emma, what’s going on with Jake? I mean, at first he seemed great, but I have to ask―does he have some sort of eating disorder? I’ve never seen anyone eat that much before.”
“Mom, you must be tired. We were up so late last night.” I stretch and fake a yawn. “I’m going to bed.”
Two seconds later she yawns as well. “You’re right. I’m bushed. Time for bed.”
The power of suggestion is a wonderful thing. “Good night, Mom.”
I go back in my room to find the “dead ones” still arguing in fierce whispers. I dig through the bags I’d dumped in my closet. I made them take over the body in turns, handing them Jake’s old clothes to wear―white T-shirts and gray sweatpants. Now when they speak out of turn, at least the body they inhabit is dressed the same. “Tomorrow the mall will surely be a madhouse―it’s the day after Christmas―but we have to go shopping anyway. You guys need more clothes.”
Exhaustion sets in, and I keep yawning. “Guys, do you think you could stop fighting long enough to get some sleep? You’ll stay here, and I’ll take the guest room. It’s close to my parents’ room, so I can keep a better eye on my mom. I think she’s getting suspicious.”
“I’ll take care of everything,” Bernard promises.
Knowing this is the best I can hope for, I shuffle off to bed.
The next morning, I open my eyes to an agate blue sky and sparkling, coconut-white snow. Too bad I have to hurry up, get out of bed, and go shopping. Bummer.
Mom leans through the doorway of the guest room. “Emma, why on earth are you sleeping in here?”
“Jake fell asleep in my room right after you left, and I didn’t want to move him.”
“I wouldn’t want to move him, either. He must have gained twenty pounds last night.” She drums her pink nails upon the doorframe.
“What are you and Dad doing today?” I hope they have big plans that don’t include me.
No such luck.
“Your father’s gone to the gym. I told him we’re going shopping together.”
Oh no, my worst fear come true. “What about Jake?”
“Well, shouldn’t he be going home soon?” She examines her nails, finding something she doesn’t like. “Or else he can come with us.”
Mike strolls down the hall toward us, carrying Jake’s jacket. “Where are we going?”
“Shopping!” my mom proclaims.
My mother eyes Mike warily across the kitchen counter. “Now, Jake, what do you want for breakfast?”
“Juice and toast should be fine.”
My mother nods and turns toward the refrigerator. “Are you feeling any better?”
“Yeah. Sort of.” Mike glances my way and shrugs.
After breakfast, Mom switches into a cute little athletic outfit, as if she plans to run a marathon in the middle of our shopping trip. “Let’s go!” she chirps. We head for the car. Mom forces “Jake” to ride shotgun. I’ve been downgraded to the backseat.
“So, Emma, what stores are you going to visit?” Mom speeds across town.
“Uh…Sears,” I say. My “crew” needs staples.
“Hmm… No wonder you never dress cute. Why don’t you let me buy you some new outfits? Jake can look at the tools in Sears by himself.”
No way am I letting “the boys” loose in the mall on their own. “Actually, Jake and I want some time alone.” I touch Mike’s shoulder in what I hope is a girlfriend-like manner.
He flinches as if I’ve put ice down his neck.
“Okay, fine. I’ll get more accomplished on my own, anyway.” Mom finds a surprisingly good parking spot. “Make sure your cell phone is on so I can reach you. Ta-ta.”
Off she races, one of the best shoppers in the state. She’ll elbow her way through the mob without even breaking a sweat. At the end of the day, she’ll emerge triumphant, her perfect hairdo undamaged no matter how many outfits she’s tried on, with her glossy-bagged trophies held high in her outstretched hands.
The mall is so packed nobody even looks at us. I could walk around naked, and no one would notice except for Mike, who probably would run screaming in the other direction. Not that I care. At least that’s what I tell myself, but sometimes I lie.
We purchase a stockpile of blue jeans, white T-shirts, and zip-up gray hoodies. Then, for a little variety, we add flannel shirts, long-sleeved black T-shirts, socks, and shoes. We wander the mall, laden down with way more bags than what seems environmentally responsible.
“There’s your mom.” Mike points toward my mother wading toward us through the crowd, her many bags in tow.
“Looks like you did a bit more shopping than usual.” Mom tries to peek at my purchases as Mike takes every one of her bags. She smiles a
t him. “Such a gentleman!”
I position myself to hide our purchases. Even though my ex-roommate Chrissy, the real Jake, and my mother all think I dress like a boy, my recent selections might seem a bit excessive.
“What did you buy?” I attempt to distract her. She loves to report her shopping conquests.
“Well, I bought a new dress for that cocktail party tonight―” she begins.
“You’re going to a party tonight?” I interrupt, trying not to sound too eager. “That’s great! Stay as late as you like.”
Mom raises her eyebrows, obviously suspicious I just want to “get it on” with my “boyfriend”.
“Don’t say anything,” I warn. If she starts in with the sex talk again, right in front of the three-in-one “Jake” I’m not even close to dating, I might have to knock her unconscious with her heaviest shopping bag.
A car horn honks outside.
“Honey, hurry up! The taxi’s waiting!” Dad calls from the front door.
Mom dashes past me down the hallway, in a cloud of expensive perfume.
“Have fun, Mom.” I can’t wait for my parents to give me the best Christmas gift of all―a little privacy.
“Is Jake still in the bathroom?” She grimaces.
“Y-yes.”
Mike hid himself in my bathroom during the last hour, claiming he has another stomachache.
“I hope he’ll be okay.” She rushes out the door.
Me, too. I can barely handle three people at a time. Please don’t let there be any more.
As the taxi pulls away, I gaze at the black-and-white wonderland around me. Then I look up and behold the full moon. How beautiful.
“Oh Moon, above me shine… Oh crap!” I know what this means!
I race inside and pound on the locked bathroom door. “Let me in―my parents are gone now.”
The door gives way slowly. When I walk in, the room is crowded. Bernard, Steve, and Mike all stand separate in their own bodies. The borrowed body slumps gruesomely in a loose pile upon the floor, like a giant, man-shaped snakeskin. Bernard gestures toward the skylight above us.
“Apparently, we separate in the light of the full moon.” Bernard watches my reaction, which seems to interest him. “You don’t seem too surprised. Care to tell us why?”
I shrug. “Sorry. I forgot to mention that you don’t wear the body suit during the full moon.”
“What else aren’t you telling us?” Steve demands.
“Nothing―” I protest.
“Can we at least get out of the bathroom now?” Steve interrupts. “It’s cramped in here.”
“And I’m hungry again,” Mike says.
“Let’s go in the kitchen.” I hold my breath and place the deflated body into the walk-in shower, then shut the door behind it. I gaze at its wavy, flesh-colored image through the glass before following my little club of the living dead into the kitchen.
“You guys are always so hungry,” I mutter. “Do you know why?”
“Weren’t the others?” Bernard asks, while I play waitress and make plate after plate of microwave enchiladas.
“Not really,” I say. “And they didn’t remember the same things as you. Sam had to watch his own funeral, and Jake wasn’t even sure if the place you were waiting was real.”
“Well, he slept most of the time,” Bernard says.
“Yeah, it looked like he was in a coma,” Steve grumbles. “It was kind of creepy.”
“Really?” I pause, plate in hand. “After his accident, they harvested his kidneys for his sister. But that was last summer, and he didn’t show up here until fall.”
“I don’t think time is the same there as it is here,” Bernard says before taking another polite bite.
Steve elbows Mike. “Jake gave his sister his kidneys. He sure sounds like a swell guy, doesn’t he?”
Mike throws Steve a dirty look. “Maybe it’s not such a good thing that we’re able to talk to each other face-to-face.”
“I suppose you usually have to take turns, when you’re in the same body, I mean.”
“Not really,” Steve says. “We can all talk at the same time, but only to each other.”
“You mean you can talk among yourselves without saying a word?” I ask.
“Yes.” Steve smirks. “That’s how we discuss you, Emma.”
Suddenly, I feel quite naked.
“Don’t worry.” Bernard frowns at Steve. “It’s nothing bad.”
“Except him.” Steve jerks a thumb toward Mike. “He doesn’t like the fact that you’re a witch.”
I turn away from the table to hide my disappointment. “Oh. I see.”
“I don’t know what his problem is.” Steve smiles. “I’m thrilled about it myself.”
“Why?” Do I want to know the answer?
“Your skills could prove useful,” Steve says.
I shrug off the flesh-crawling feeling his words give me. “What about Sam?”
“Sam?” Steve rolls his eyes. “All he ever did was whine and cry ‘why me?’ over and over again.”
“You don’t have to be so mean about it,” I snap. “He was depressed. Cut him some slack.”
“Well, it’s not like I’m super-spectacular happy to be dead,” Steve says. “But you won’t see me whining about it like a baby.”
“I imagine no one really wants to be here right now,” Bernard says. “Not that we don’t appreciate what you’ve done for us, Emma.”
“Oh, right,” I mumble.
“Yeah.” Steve puts down his fork. “But why did you call us back? I mean, the only one you knew here is Mike.”
“Um…” My mind spins. “I don’t know why you all came back.”
“So, you were only gunning for Mike?” Steve guesses. “That must have been some spell.”
My face flushes. “Uh…” I really wish I didn’t have to explain what happened in front of Mike, but thanks to Steve, it looks like I have no other choice. Averting my gaze, I mumble about the disastrous encounter with Mike’s family and how I attempted to offer my life in exchange for his because of my overwhelming guilt after his drowning.
“When the river came for me, I chickened out and clung to the bridge. After the waters drew back, I ran home. When I woke up the next day, I found a stranger in my room.” As I start talking about Sam in detail, Bernard interrupts me.
“That’s enough for now, I think. We get the general idea.” The arch of Bernard’s eyebrows indicates he grasped everything, even the parts I so carefully left out.
Somehow, I’ve managed to avoid mentioning that my obsession with Mike drove my freakish act upon the bridge.
Mike obliviously munches away on the remains of his Christmas groceries, although with less zeal than the day before.
Bernard leans back in his chair. He and Steve eye Mike, then share a knowing glance.
I glare at both of them, wishing they would disappear. “Well, Mike, what do you think?” I brace myself for his answer.
He stops eating but refuses to look me in the eye. “You’re just really different than I thought you were. I didn’t realize you were into all of this witchy stuff.”
“But, I’m not!”
“Just look around, Emma… You’re surrounded by dead people, and it doesn’t even bother you. I would say that you’re pretty deep into the freaky stuff.”
I cross my arms. “It’s not like I had much choice after you made me swim across that river.”
His eyes widen. “But I didn’t force you to swim.”
Bernard eyes him reproachfully.
“Well, you were drunk. I didn’t feel like I had any other choice.” I stand up and start clearing plates.
Mike clears his throat. “I’m sorry it happened. So sorry. Believe me. I don’t know what else to say.”
I turn away. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed. Don’t let my parents see you.” First, I wanted Mike back, now I just want to be left alone.
y the next morning, they’ve all merged back into one
body. Way too early they stand next to my bed. Steve glimmers to the front. “You best get in the kitchen. There’s trouble in paradise.”
Even the air feels tense as I approach my parents sitting at the kitchen table.
“Your father got a phone call while we were at the party.” Mom stands up to toss her uneaten breakfast into the garbage.
“Emma, are you hungry?” Dad asks.
“No, I’m just tired.”
“Then let’s talk in private.” He gets up and heads down the hall.
Uh-oh. This looks serious. And unpleasant.
I follow him into his formal study.
“Take a seat.”
I plop down, his solemn tone dissolving my bravery.
“Why didn’t you tell us what happened at school this fall?” Dad settles in his old leather chair. “Why didn’t you ask for our help?”
“You were so far away.” My voice sounds small. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
“We would have come back… All the way from Antarctica if need be, if only you had called us.”
I try not to smile at the thought of my bikini-loving mother vacationing in Antarctica.
“You almost drowned!” Dad’s voice catches on the last word.
I stiffen, and the vision of Mom frolicking in her swimsuit through the snow disappears. “But I didn’t! I’m fine.”
“How can you be fine, when your friend Mike never made it out of that river?” Dad shakes his head. “I know you, Emma. You must be devastated. Back in high school, you cried for an hour when you ran over a frog in the driveway.”
“Dad, I didn’t cry for a whole hour―” I begin, but Dad’s serious expression silences me.
“I know you, Emma.” His gaze is so intense I can’t draw my eyes away. “Even though Mike was drunk, and swimming was probably his idea, you feel responsible for his death. You’re not the type of person who believes in accidents, you believe in accountability. And I’m guessing you also think you’re the one responsible, even though you’re no more to blame than the moon.”
Apparently, Dad knows me better than I realize.
“How did you hear about it?” I whisper.
