by Stacy Eaton
Go get some sleep, Mitch.
I nodded to myself; I needed to sleep this off. I climbed out of the truck, stumbling to the door on shaky legs. With the door unlocked, I stepped inside and kicked something that lay on the floor. It rolled and bounced off the wall, loudly.
“Shit,” I muttered as I pushed the door closed behind me. I heard a noise upstairs.
“Mitch? Is that you?” Beth called down from the top step.
“Yeah, it’s me. Go back to bed.” In the kitchen, I grabbed a glass and filled it with water. She walked into the kitchen behind me.
“You okay?” she asked quietly, and I snapped.
I spun around to face her, everything in me finally coming unglued. “No! No, I’m not alright! I’m screwed up, Beth! Screwed up! Is that what you want to hear?”
She took a step back from my verbal assault and reached for the lapels of her robe, pulling them closer.
“It’s going to be alright,” her voice quivered, and she stepped closer.
“It’s not going to be alright! I’m losing my mind! I can’t focus on work! I can’t stand to be home. I keep making all these bad decisions, and now I hear her voice in my head! It’s not going to be alright!”
She stepped in front of me and tried to pull me into her arms; I fought against them and lost my balance, falling back against the countertop. I bent at the waist, putting my hands on my knees, my head spun.
Her hand rubbed small circles on my back. “You’re going to be alright, Mitch. We’ll work through it.”
“I don’t want to work through it with you!” I bellowed at her as I stood back up and tried to distance myself. She blocked my path.
“Whose voice do you hear in your head?” her face wavered even up close like this. I tried to focus on her, my body swayed slightly.
“I need to go to sleep.” I attempted to step around her, and she grabbed my arm and halted me again.
“Whose voice do you hear inside your head, Mitch?” she demanded forcefully.
“You really want to know, Beth? Fine, I’ll tell you! I hear hers. I’m hearing Corey’s voice inside my head!” Pain etched my words as they spewed from my mouth. All of a sudden I wanted to hurt Beth, not physically, but I wanted her to hurt like I hurt.
She swallowed, but didn’t move away. “Were you in love with her?”
“Yes,” my voice cracked as the liquid courage raced through my veins from the whiskey. “Yes, I was in love with her, Beth. I loved her and I killed her! Jesus, I killed her!” I spun around from her, put my hands onto the counter, and hung my head. Emotions that I had tried to bury rose with a vengeance inside, and the hated tears came.
“I killed her! I killed her!” I fought the tears that threatened while Beth wrapped her arms around my waist pulling me to her.
At this moment I needed to feel her compassion, and I couldn’t believe that she was willing to give it to me after what I had just said, but she did.
I tucked my face into her shoulder and fought to hold the agony back as she held me.
She stroked my back softly and held me tightly. “She was a lucky woman to have your love,” pain coated her words, “but you didn’t kill her, Mitchell.”
“I did.”
“No, you didn’t. The guys you were chasing did. You have to realize that.”
I pulled back from her, embarrassed to have almost broken down again and wiped my face with one hand while the other rested on her hip. “I can’t. I don’t know how.”
“Then let me help you,” she put her hands on my face, cradling my cheeks soothingly. Her own tears covered her cheeks, and her eyes were bright in the dim nightlight coming from the wall.
I had hurt her. She had hurt me. Were we even now? Once again the alcohol-induced need rushed through me and I leaned in to kiss her. How long had it been since I had done that? I felt her shiver as our lips met, and she wrapped her arms around my neck, holding me close, taking the kiss I offered.
The heat between us escalated, one of my hands ran up and down her back, the other pulled her tight to me. I needed to feel, feel alive, feel loved. She pulled my shirt out of my jeans, never leaving my lips, and I ripped open her robe.
Within a few moments, we were lying together on the kitchen floor, a tangle of clothes. Both of us burned for different things, yet they were the same.
~ Brock ~
Only moments after she was summoned, mine came.
“Brock, my child, you are upset.”
I blinked and tried not to bark out a laugh, “You think so?”
“Anger has no place here,” the voice roared over me like a huge gust of wind.
“You knew what was happening. Why did you stop it? I thought that was what you wanted,” frustration lined my words.
“Do not question me,” the voice was low, “but I will answer you because she asked the same question and I supplied her with a response.” There was a long pause before the reply came, “It is not your time.”
I put my hands on my hips, staring out over the vast whiteness in front of me, “Not my time. What is that supposed to mean?”
“I just told you not to question me. You must do as you say, believe.”
I gazed at the ground, it almost appeared not to be there, as if I was floating in midair, “Believe, I’m not sure what to believe in.”
“You must believe that it will all happen as it is supposed to happen.”
I rolled my eyes as the sarcastic words fell off my tongue, “Yeah, that makes sense.” I thought for a moment when nothing else came. “Where is Coralenna? May I ask that?”
“Yes, you may ask that, she is your charge. I have sent her on to do her job.”
“But she’s not ready yet!” Nervous anger rotated in my gut.
“She is, and as you have already seen, without permission I might add, she is needed.”
I hung my head. Was I to be punished for watching over Mitchell?
“I will not punish you. I understand your concerns and they are justified. I am proud of you for not letting it go and for worrying about his future.”
Should I say thank you? I thought.
“There is no need to thank me. You are a strong man, a man of good intentions. You have shown that over and over again, despite what your mortal life was like.”
“I was wondering when that would come up again.”
The sound was soft as it filled the room, “I bring it up again because it will affect the future, the future of all—especially, the future for you and Coralenna. You must be prepared to deal with that.”
How was I to prepare?
“When the time comes, you will know what to do. For now, you must keep your distance from her. Allow her to do this on her own and to make her own decisions.”
“What if she comes to me for help? Can I assist her?”
“No,” reverberated around the white space. “She must make her choice. She knows how you feel, but she must now decide if her future will be with us or not.”
Fear replaced the nerves in my stomach, “And what if she doesn’t choose us?”
There was no answer.
“Hello? What if she doesn’t choose us?” my voice rose of its own accord as fear replaced my anger.
A soft whisper of an answer wafted over me, “There will be no more questions, Brock. Go back to your charges and do what you need to do. Stay clear of her for now, all will be revealed in its own time.”
After a fleeting sensation of falling, I found myself standing right back on the beach where I had been, confused and distraught by the uncertainty of the future.
~ Corey ~
Beside him in his truck I sat, the wheels rolled unsteadily over the roadway. His thoughts bounced inside his mind like a ping pong ball.
Focus, Mitch.
I tried to calm him without reaching out. He obviously didn’t know how to deal with everything. My return at this very point had put him on the edge of a high precipice.
What has happened to you Mi
tchell? I studied his strong profile, wondering what he had been dealing with.
He spoke out loud, and I kept my thoughts to myself. He was not in a state that I could communicate with him properly. He needed to sleep. No, he needed to sober up!
When he walked into his house, he kicked the ball across the floor. He blinked rapidly and he made a beeline towards the kitchen. Beth came down the stairs quietly.
Her long pink robe was pulled tightly, and it made a soft whisper on the floor as she passed me. She shivered as if a chill had gone down her back when she stepped in front of me. I followed.
She was not the only one surprised by the venom of his words; I had never pictured him to be so harsh as to strike out at someone, but I did not know what had been happening to him since I had left.
She tried to comfort him, and I ached to do the same. The kitchen was dark except for one nightlight in the corner. It threw harsh shadows around the room, but I could see their pain just as clearly as I could see their faces.
When he admitted to hearing voices, I knew that I would have to be careful about how I approached him. Maybe there was another way.
I was proud of her for facing him down. I didn’t know a whole lot about her, but as I watched her try to get him to open up, I knew that she loved him.
“You really want to know, Beth? Fine, I’ll tell you!” His voice grew louder, slightly slurred by his inebriation. “I hear hers. I’m hearing Corey’s voice inside my head!”
I groaned. Yeah, I really needed to figure something else out. If I didn’t, I would drive him insane.
I waited to see if he would answer her question and was not only shocked by how he responded, but I was amazed at how she reacted.
When they went to their knees, I phased out of the room. My heart was heavy, but knowing that I had no right to intervene on this scene, I left them.
On the balcony of my quarters in the Realm, I hesitated. I needed help. I had no clue what I should do. I reached out to feel for Brock but felt no sense of his presence.
Funny, I had never not been able to feel him. I went in search of Montgomery instead.
He sat at a big glass table, a puzzle spread out in front of him, his shimmering gray head bowed over two small pieces. I saw a smile form on his face as I walked closer to him.
“Hello, dear. Darn thing, I can’t find the piece that attaches to this one.”
“Hey, Monty.” I walked up beside him, glanced down at the piece in his hand and out over the selection that lay on the glass. I bent to pick up a piece, “Here, it attaches to this one.”
His eyebrows knit together, but he took the piece I offered and snapped it into the other piece. “How’d you do that?”
“Sometimes you just need another set of eyes,” I shrugged and pulled out a chair, sitting down next to him.
He glanced at me then back to the table, moving some more pieces around in front of him. “You have something on your mind.”
“Yeah, I need another set of eyes.”
He chuckled, “Got a puzzle you’re working on, huh?”
“You could say that.” I turned to the table and picked through a few pieces, twisting them to see if they fit. I snapped two together and reached for a third piece.
“You keep that up and I’m going to keep you here. This has been one of the harder ones for me to do.”
The puzzle was of a stream and a mountain view. There were a lot of darker colors and not too many shapes. “You have to look for the subtle color changes.”
I saw him bob his head from the corner of my eye. “So what can I help you with?”
“Have you seen Brock?” I fit another piece together.
“He’s a puzzle alright, but no I haven’t seen him. I believe he was summoned and then was sent to the arena.”
I lifted my face to Montgomery. “He’s not the puzzle. Do you know why he was summoned?”
“Not my right to ask,” he shook his head. “So if he’s not the puzzle, what is?”
I twisted a small cardboard piece around, trying to get it to fit, “I have been released from the Realm. I saw Mitch.”
The quick intake of breath told me he had not known. I forced a small smile over my lips and picked up another section to try.
“That was fast,” the surprise registered in his voice.
“Well, not that fast. I had no clue it had been six months since I had died.”
“Time is different here. You knew that.”
I sat back in my chair, “Yeah, but six months! Come on! You guys could have warned me that one of our days here is like a month or two for them.”
I let the colorful piece of cardboard twist in my fingers, feeling the different angles of it as it spun around in my hand.
“Would it have made a difference? Most Gardaí are not released for over a year of Earth time. Just imagine the surprise they must feel to see life going on without them.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I tossed the jagged piece to the table and put my hands in my lap.
“So how is he?” He peeked up at me from where his head was bent over the table.
“Not good. The Os Malos have been hard at work on him. I found him in a rather compromising position, although I did manage to influence him enough to stop what he was doing.” The scene flashed through my mind, he had been about to take a stranger up against the wall. I shook my head.
“Well, that’s good then.” He went back to his puzzle.
“Yeah, I guess,” I stood up and moved to his sliding glass door, hugging myself with my arms, “but then he thought he was going crazy because he was hearing my voice in his head.”
“Oh.” I heard the chair creak and assumed he leaned back. He surprised me when he touched my shoulder.
“Monty, what am I going to do? How can I help him if he is questioning his own sanity when I speak to him?”
His eyebrows were drawn down, “Why are you calling me Monty?”
I shrugged again, “I don’t know, I guess Montgomery is just too stuffy for me—but that’s beside the point—what am I supposed to do?” I had opened my hands up in front of me in a pleading way.
He reached for a hand and pulled me over to his couch. The soft beige suede sighed when we sat down.
“Well, if you are worried about his sanity, then maybe you need to try another route.”
I scooted up to the edge of the couch, “What route is that?”
“Shock therapy,” his mouth spread into a wide smile.
“Shock therapy, what are you talking about?” Maybe he wasn’t as sane as I thought he was. Maybe I should be more worried about him than Mitch.
He laughed and squeezed my hand. “If hearing your voice is too much, maybe he needs to be shocked and be able to actually see your face.”
My heart accelerated, “What?”
“Maybe what he needs is to be able to see you, see that you are alright. Maybe then he will know that you don’t blame him and that he wasn’t at fault.”
I gaped at him, afraid that this might be a joke. “How?”
A smile so pure it radiated heaven crossed his face, “You step down into the living arena.” He patted my hand.
“You can do that?” Had I heard them ever talk about doing that? I had never seen Brock in the living arena before.
“Of course you can do that, although we don’t do it very often. Most times it is not a good idea for the dead to be magically alive and walking around in the open again.”
“But?” I knew there had to be more.
“But if Mitch is having such a hard time, then maybe showing yourself to him and helping him one on one would set him back on the correct path.” He let go of my hand and stood up, “I don’t know much about Mitch, but I do know there is a plan for him here when his time on Earth is done.”
I shuddered to think of Mitch as dead. As much as I wanted to be with him, I didn’t want him to die to accomplish it. If I were able to go back, to walk amongst the living again, I could be with him. I coul
d gaze into his face again, kiss his lips.
Brock’s face came to mind, and I pushed it aside. Brock had nothing to do with this. This was about me seeing Mitch again, the chance to help him, to say goodbye properly if need be.
I stood up, “Let’s do it. Can you show me how?”
He walked up to me and placed his hands on my upper arms, “Of course I can, but remember that what you do down there will affect you. Your decisions will make a difference on your afterlife, good or bad.”
The impact of his words was strong and they soaked into my mind, “I understand.”
He examined me hard, “Are you sure?”
After a brief hesitation, I nodded, “Yes, I’m sure.”
He squeezed my arms one more time, “Then let’s go. We need to get you set up before you get started.”
~ Mitchell ~
With a groan, I rolled over in bed. A shaft of sunlight struck my face, and I squeezed my eyelids shut to keep the light out.
My memory was fuzzy from the night before, but I remembered a few things with perfect clarity.
I remembered the woman, Rebecca. I remembered how I almost took her savagely against the outside of Harry’s bar. It was just another one of the bad choices I had made recently. The disgust I felt for myself was overwhelming.
Then I came home and told Beth that I was in love with Corey. My head throbbed at the fuzzy recollection. When I had spoken those words last night, I had expected her to get angry, strike out—certainly not comfort me—but I never expected that it would have ended up with us making love on the kitchen floor. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had sex.
If it had not been for hearing Corey’s voice last night, things would have ended up quite differently. I would have become someone I did not want to become—but how was having sex with a stranger different than falling in love with another woman when I was married? Of course there was a big difference. Corey wasn’t some stranger, and I had never meant to fall in love with her. It had just happened.
The bedroom door creaked open. “Mitch, are you awake?”
“Yeah,” I cleared my throat, thick from sleep.
