Jump When Ready

by David Pandolfe

  I shook my head and looked around again. “This is amazing! Not possible, but amazing.”

  “Oh, it’s possible,” Nikki said. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be here.” She seemed to be enjoying my confusion.

  “You need to see the dining room,” Naomi said. “There wasn’t anything like it during my last life.”

  I followed them into the next room to see a totally deluxe mall food court, including everything imaginable and some things I’d never imagined. Chinese, Mexican, burgers and pizza—all those, definitely. But have you ever heard of Vegan Queen? Chocolate Hut? Neither had I, but there they were.

  “As you probably guessed,” Jamie said, “physical space is basically meaningless here. This is a pretty big house, but obviously it’s way bigger on the inside. Except when we don’t want it to be. It’s totally up to us. Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

  I wasn’t sure what to expect, but at the top of the stairs there was just a carpeted hallway. Nothing unusual, pretty much what you would have expected from outside.

  “These are our rooms up here,” Jamie said.

  “We all have views from the front windows, and back,” Naomi said. “It’s really neat.”

  Since all the bedroom doors lined the same wall, that didn’t seem possible. But I knew it would be true.

  “This is Nikki’s room, here,” Jamie said, as we passed the first door. “Next to the stairs.”

  “In case Jamie gets on my nerves and I have to flee,” Nikki said.

  Jamie cracked a smile. “This one is Naomi’s, then there’s Simon’s. The next one is mine.” We took a few more steps before he pointed to a door that stood partly open. From inside the room, I heard music playing. I recognized the band, My Chemical Romance—one of my favorites. “That one is yours,” Jamie said. “We think you’ll like it. Feel like maybe having some time alone?”

  “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” I said. “Kind of confused right now.”

  “Totally understandable.”

  The fact was, I also wanted to hang out a little longer. I’d never met people like them before. Each of them were so different from each other, but they didn’t seem worried about it. Not like anything I’d experienced in middle school, definitely, where everyone had seemed so insanely desperate to fit in. From what I’d heard, high school wasn’t all that different. Maybe once you got to college, if you survived long enough to get there, you’d finally be able to breathe. But these guys around me now didn’t seem to really care and that’s what I liked about them. They seemed like cool people. Okay, Curtis I couldn’t be sure about yet. Some anger issues there but at least he was honest. At the same time, Jamie was right about me needing to recover a little. I definitely needed some alone time to try sorting things out.

  Just then, another door caught my eye at the end of the hall. “Is that Curtis’s room?”

  “No, he’s on the third floor,” Naomi said. “He kind of likes his privacy.”

  “Nice way of saying he’s a total creep,” Nikki said. “There was no third floor before he came along.”

  Okay, so the verdict definitely remained out on Curtis.

  “That room belongs to Martha,” Jamie said. “You’ll meet her soon, I’m sure.”

  Even though this was the third time someone had mentioned Martha, I guessed she was probably just a shy dead kid. I figured I’d meet her sooner or later.

  ~~~

  Once I closed the door, I checked out my room. It wasn’t gigantic like the spaces downstairs but it was still pretty big. I noticed right off that it had a desk holding a computer. You guessed it, an iMac, which kind of creeped me out at first. But I checked to be sure. It went right to Google, no scenes from my life popping up. For a minute, I got my hopes up but it was all incoming, no outgoing. Social networking with the living was out of the question. Come to think of it, my parents might have approved.

  The thing is, they’d been at Bethany lately about this guy she met through her Tumblr blog. In a way, I understood. What did anyone know about Will other than he was a friend of one of Bethany’s online friends and that he was also into poetry? The poetry part was weird enough, if you asked me. But he was also twenty-four, getting ready for graduate school. Yeah, my parents loved that part. At least he lived in a different state, which made my parents feel a little better. The whole thing had been an ongoing issue but now it seemed so small. If only we could go back to that being the big problem. I felt pretty sure that right now my parents weren’t all that worried about Bethany’s friendship with Will.

  My room also had an HDTV, DVD player and an iPod with docking station. There were cabinets for storing things (not that I’d brought anything along) and shelves lined one wall loaded with all sorts of books, including the manga and graphic novels I loved to read. A quick check of the closet and dresser showed an array of jeans and T-shirts pretty much the same as I had back home, not exactly my old clothes but close enough. As promised, the room had windows at both the front and back, sunlight flowing from two directions at the same time—kind of strange, but cool at the same time.

  Still, it was beyond weird to think that this was where I now lived. I’d drowned, met a bunch of kids in a tree, slept in a hammock that had turned into a house which had disappeared again, then gone to my own funeral. Now I basically had an apartment in a house the size of Texas with an arcade, food court and inside pool.

  I didn’t know what to do with any of it, so I grabbed a D. Gray-Man from the bookshelf and went to stretch out on the bed. I read about three pages and felt myself fading out again. I remembered what Jamie had said before. Transitioning was huge, no doubt about it. I just couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

  ~~~

  Again, I didn’t really remember any other dreams. Just the one about Bethany. This time she was sitting in a room I’d never seen before. There was almost no light, just a little coming in through one small window. She sat on a bed staring straight ahead, her eyes dull, her mouth hanging half-open.

  “Bethany,” I said. “I’m here with you. Where are we?”

  Bethany didn’t move or look up. Her expression didn’t change. It was like someone had taken her soul, leaving just this empty shell.

  “Bethany, look at me! Can you hear me?”

  I heard a noise and looked to see something starting to cover the window. The room kept growing more dark, the light slipping away. Soon, Bethany would be left in total darkness. I wasn’t even sure she’d know.

  “Bethany, you need to get out of here!”

  Then the last bit of light was covered and I couldn’t see her anymore.

  I sat up in bed, my heart hammering in my chest. Someone was knocking on my door. I felt hot and wiped sweat from my forehead. Until that moment, I didn’t even know if people “between lives” could sweat, but apparently we did.

  The knocking sounded again.

  “Who is it?” I hoped it wasn’t time for another meeting or funeral.

  “My name’s Martha,” a woman said. “I wondered whether it might be time to check in on you. I can come back later, if you’d prefer.”

  I was still freaked by the dream and wasn’t sure I wanted to meet anyone. At the same time, I was curious and couldn’t see any real reason for putting her off. So I told her to come in.

  The door creaked open and Martha stepped into the room. She was probably in her late thirties, possibly early forties (I can never guess at that sort of thing very well). She had long golden hair tied back in a ponytail and wore faded jeans and a sweatshirt. Her eyes were the bluest I’d ever seen.

  Martha looked around my room. “This is nice. Do you like it?”

  “It’s cool,” I said, not sure if she’d had anything to do with it. “But I’m still kind of getting used to things.” I got off the bed and stood facing her.

  Martha nodded. “Of course. And you can make changes as you go. But we thought this might be a good start.”

  “It is, definitely. I like it.” I hoped I hadn’t
said anything to hurt her feelings. It seemed like she really cared.

  “Good. Did you have any bad dreams?”

  It seemed almost like she knew, but then maybe most dead kids had bad dreams for the first couple of days. Come to think of it, not having some bad dreams would be strange. “Yeah, I did have one,” I said.

  “Understandable,” Martha said. “Just like in life, we sometimes have bad dreams between lives as well. Although, you’ll find that dreams mean more now than they usually did before. Either way, I felt that you were troubled.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I know that must seem a little strange, but it’s part of my role here to sense when one of you might need assistance. You can tell me about your dream if you’d like, but you certainly don’t have to.”

  I thought about telling her but at the same time reminded myself that it was just a dream. I’d just seen Bethany a few hours ago. She was fine.

  I didn’t know quite what to say, so I asked, “Is that your room at the end of the hall?”

  “When I’m needed,” Martha said. “Is there anything I can do for you? Do you have any questions?”

  Actually, I had a million. But I had no idea where to start.

  Martha seemed to sense my confusion. “There’s no rush. Take your time.”

  “We have plenty of it, don’t we?” I remembered how Curtis had mentioned all those days, years and decades as if all they shared here was wasted time. I even smirked a little for effect.

  Martha hesitated for just a moment, then her face brightened again. “Well, time is different here as I’m sure you’ve already noticed. And it’s also different for each person. For some, ten years feels like a few months. For others, two months feels like two years. Sometimes a week feels just like a week. There’s a reason for this, of course.”

  “What’s the reason?” I expected another vague answer, along the lines of the answers I’d received so far, but Martha didn’t hesitate.

  “Some people need to stay here much longer, while others don’t stay very long at all in the scheme of things. Each person’s perception of time shifts accordingly so that their waiting doesn’t seem so long. Usually. There are also exceptions. For those who remain angry, time passes the most slowly. Anger is the devil, by the way. Hatred is hell. Just in case you were wondering.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about. “Then what’s heaven?”

  “The opposite, of course.”

  Something about that made sense to me, but I still felt confused. “Why do some people stay so much longer than others?”

  Martha walked to the window and looked out. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if she was going to answer my question. Then she turned to face me again.

  “There are many reasons. For some, it’s a matter of being ready again. For others, it’s a matter of the right circumstances aligning. By that I mean we often look for others we’ve known and loved before to share our future lives with. Most of the time, we do. But not always. To put it simply, sometimes we just need a break. Sometimes we take a break while we’re living, sometimes we take it while we’re between lives. Either way, there are always choices to be made.”

  “What about you?” I said. “Have you been here long?” I wondered if she might have shown up here as a kid, like us. Did people age here?

  “Sometimes people choose to stay,” Martha said. “In Service.”

  Each answer called for another question. My mind was reeling. I was about to ask what she meant by “Service” when someone rapped loudly on the frame of my open door.

  Curtis stuck his head into the room. “Hey, dead kid, how’s it—” He noticed Martha standing near the window and frowned. “Hello, Martha.”

  Martha smiled. “Hi, Curtis. How are you this morning?”

  Until she said that, I hadn’t realized that I must have slept through to the next day. Or had I? Time here was impossible to figure out.

  “Well, it’s not really morning, is it?” Curtis said. “I suppose we could pretend it is, if we’re stupid.” He walked toward my bookcase, turning his back to us as he read the titles.

  Martha gestured toward the sunny window as if he could still see her. “The consensus seems to be that it’s morning,” she said. “It’s all relative, no matter where you are. You know that, Curtis. Even on Earth, it’s not morning or night for all people at the same time.”

  Curtis kept his back turned but I looked out over the neighborhood. Once again, I could hear people out there but I couldn’t see anyone.

  “Henry, whenever you’d like to talk, just knock on my door,” Martha said. “I’ll be here when you need me.”

  “And even if you don’t,” Curtis muttered under his breath. He exhaled loudly. “Is she gone yet?”

  I couldn’t believe he was saying this with Martha still in the room.

  “She is, right?” Curtis said.

  Curtis was right. When I turned from the window, I saw that Martha had simply vanished. “Apparently, she’s gone,” I said.

  “Apparently?” Curtis turned and grinned. “Look around, bro. Do you see her?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then she’s gone.” He took a step closer. “I know this place is confusing, but some things hold true, even here. For example, if you can’t see someone, they’re not in the same space you are. We share the same reality. That’s a Rule. You guessed it, with a capitol R. You can hear that somehow, I know. It’s just one of those things.” Curtis flashed his grin again. “But here’s the deal. There are others who don’t share the same reality as us. The Rules are different there.”

  “Sorry, not sure I’m following exactly.”

  “Feel like having some fun?”

  “Sure, I guess.” I wasn’t sure where Curtis was going with this, but couldn’t see any reason not to go along.

  “Okay, cool. Let me show you what I’m talking about. Think about someone you don’t like. Anyone. Doesn’t matter.”

  I was about to say I really didn’t dislike anyone all that much, but then someone came to mind. My brother’s friend, Tommy Balboa. While all of John’s friends had enjoyed harassing me from time to time, Tommy had never missed a chance. And while the others had just meant it as goofing around, Tommy had been more nasty. The kind of kid who’d punch me in the arm or give me a shove just because no one was looking.

  “Got someone in mind?” Curtis seemed to know I did.

  I nodded.

  “Know where he lives?”

  “Sure. He lives over by the high school.”

  “Great, then just close your eyes and picture being there. Simple as that. Go on.”

  I closed my eyes and imagined seeing Tommy’s house. I waited but it didn’t seem like anything was happening.

  “Open your eyes,” Curtis said.

  We stood on Tommy Balboa’s front lawn, facing his house. It seemed totally impossible. At the same time, somehow we’d gotten to the church yesterday. Same deal, I guessed.

  Curtis looked around. “What do you know, it really is morning. Who would have thought? Oh, cool, the cars are in the driveway. I bet it’s Saturday. Okay, this part’s always entertaining. Come on, let’s check things out inside.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course. Why, are you scared of getting in trouble?”

  Obviously, he had a good point. “But how—”

  Curtis looked at me like I was a total idiot, but then he grinned again. “Follow me.”

  When I expected him to somehow open the door, he walked up the front steps and passed right through it. I climbed the steps, then stopped. How had he done that? Everything I knew told me it was solid wood. A door was either open or it was closed. But then Curtis’s arm reached through and he beckoned me inside with his index finger. I stood there staring at that door with an arm sticking out of it. After a few seconds, Curtis stuck his head through too.

  “Didn’t you just fall out of a tree the other day without getting a scratch? Do you really thin
k this door is going to stop you?” “Well, technically, I was pushed,” I said. But again he did have a point. So, I walked through the door and we stood together inside Tommy’s house.

  “Okay, that was weird,” I said.

  “Weirder than what? Drowning? Going to your own funeral? You really are confused.”

  “What are we doing here?” I whispered.

  Curtis rolled his eyes. “Speak up.”

  I raised my voice just a little. After all, we were standing in someone else’s house. “Why are we here?”

  Curtis cupped his ear. “I can’t hear you! Must be going deaf! Speak up!”

  Right, okay. I got it. But it still felt weird. “What’s the deal?”

  Curtis ignored me and walked through the living room, then into the kitchen. He opened cabinets and left them open. He poked around inside the refrigerator. “Wow, lots of food. Wish I could eat on this side.” He turned to face me. “So, why did you hate this guy?”

  I thought of Martha’s words from our conversation earlier. “Hey, I never said I hated him.”

  “Figure of speech. How did he bug you?”

  “He picked on me.”

  “Well then, now is your chance to pick back. Let’s go upstairs.” Curtis lifted off the floor and passed through the ceiling, leaving me standing in the kitchen. About two seconds later, his arm poked through. Again, the beckoning index finger.

  For a moment, I just stood there again, my brain telling me what Curtis had just done was totally impossible. But it was possible for us, obviously. So, I kicked off the kitchen floor, passed through the ceiling and stood next to Curtis in the upstairs hallway. For the record, the whole walking through walls and flying through ceilings thing was amazingly cool. But I didn’t have any more time to think about it since, right at that moment, one of the bedroom doors opened and Mrs. Balboa stepped into the hall. She walked right past us. Well, technically, she walked through half of Curtis.

  Mrs. Balboa rapped on Tommy’s door. “Tommy, it’s time to get up. Better get moving.”

  “I guess that must be Tommy’s room.” Curtis walked through both Mrs. Balboa and Tommy’s door.