Body Jumping

by Brenda Lowder

  When I come out, all the other employees are gone. I spy from the end of the hallway that Aiden is still working hard at his desk, though, which I can see through the narrow slit of his partially open door. Do I dare interrupt him?

  Evie would dare.

  I crack his door open a little more. “How’s Jacob doing?” I ask.

  He gives a start and drops his pen. He smiles when he looks up. “Good. Much better. He’s back at his mom’s now.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad.” I turn to go, not wanting him to wish for my absence.

  “Do you—”

  “Would you—”

  We speak at the same time, and I laugh. I gesture for him to go first.

  “No, no. Ladies first.”

  I don’t want to be first at this. Geesh.

  I summon my courage. “I was wondering if you had to work all night or if you might have time to come over. For coffee or something.”

  Aiden looks down at his desk and back at me. “Yes. Yes to all of that. Your place. Coffee. And the something.” His eyes are twinkling at me.

  “All right then.” I beam at him.

  He leaves his work exactly as it is and grabs his keys. We’re doing this.

  On the short walk to his car, I search for something interesting to say. Now that I’ve gotten what I want, I don’t know what to do with him.

  “What’s your favorite TV show?” I blurt out because, apparently, I’m twelve.

  Aiden chuckles. “I don’t know. I haven’t had much time for TV lately. How about you?”

  Before I can answer, Jim steps from the shadows. My muscles seize and I tense, ready for a confrontation.

  “I got those crossbeams you wanted,” he says to Aiden. “Do you want to see them?” He glances at me and flattens his mouth to a hard line.

  Did he wait here in the parking lot to accost us? Is he trying to keep Aiden from going anywhere with me?

  “That’s okay, Jim. I’ll take a look at them tomorrow.” He glances from Jim to me, probably sensing the tension between us, and takes my hand. “Goodnight, then,” he says, and leads me to his car.

  I get in and watch Jim give us a last look before returning to the restaurant. Worrying about how to explain the animosity from Jim, I think up several possible surprised and outraged responses, but Aiden never mentions it. The drive is short and pleasant, and I look forward to having Aiden’s full attention when we get home.

  Which is not going to be possible.

  When we get to my house, Barclay is there, parked on the living room couch watching Top Chef and eating French macarons. “I can only watch this show,” he tells us with his mouth full and losing crumbs at the corners, “while enjoying elevated cuisine. Otherwise I want to tear my hair out and rob a Whole Foods.”

  “Okay,” Aiden says and blinks twice.

  I really should have thought this through. My place is the worst idea ever for a date…or whatever this is. I just wanted to spend time with Aiden away from the restaurant. And kiss him again.

  Aiden and I hover near the door, and I briefly consider asking Barclay to slide down so Aiden and I can join him on the couch to watch Top Chef. But no, having Barclay all over us—probably literally—really would be the worst date idea ever.

  “Follow me.” I lead Aiden into the kitchen and he perches on a stool at the counter.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask.

  “Very. Do you cook?”

  “I sure do.” I open the refrigerator door and survey the contents. “I have eggs and sausage. We could do breakfast for dinner. Oooh, I have spinach and ham. I could do a quiche Florentine.” I turn around and raise my eyebrows at him.

  “Hmm. That all sounds great. I think you might need help, though.”

  He crosses over to stand behind me and look into the fridge too. He’s so close that his front is brushing against my back, and I inhale the gentle notes of his woodsy cologne. Desire curls in my stomach. I lean back into him the barest hint and suddenly his arms are around me. I tilt up and he angles down and we’re kissing.

  His lips are hungry against mine, but I don’t think it’s for the food. I manage to close the fridge door and steer us toward the counter. He pushes me up against it, and my stomach flips over. He’s what I want and all I want and I want it now. Him. Closer. More.

  I stop thinking in complete sentences. His tongue pushes into my mouth, and I caress it with mine. I stroke my hands up the back of his neck and into his short hair. His arms clasp my back, massaging it and holding me firmly against him, then he moves his hands to my waist. He tightens his hold and lifts me onto the counter. He puts a hand on either side of my skirt and slides it up to my thighs so he can stand between my legs. I feel my face get hot, and I’m sure I’m blushing, but I wrap my legs around him, pull him closer, and kiss him hard on the mouth.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus!” There’s a crash as Barclay drops the remote control on the tile floor. It cracks apart and splintered plastic pieces skitter away. Barclay puts a fluttering hand over his heart. Aiden and I stare at him, but Aiden doesn’t release me from his embrace.

  “I’m sorry, y’all, but it was just such a shock.” He looks around. “Here, I’ve got to sit down.” He pulls a kitchen chair over and sits down on it, facing us expectantly like he has just ordered pay-per-view.

  I roll my eyes. Barclay is staying. Aiden steps back, and I hop off the counter, yanking my skirt down.

  Aiden picks up the pieces of the remote control and retrieves the batteries that rolled under the table.

  “What exactly was the shock, Barclay?” I tilt my head at him. He’s fanning his face with his hand now.

  He stops and purses his lips. “I eat at that counter.” He swivels his head, sticking his nose in the air.

  “Sorry, buddy,” Aiden says, and claps Barclay on his back as he walks by.

  Barclay has completely killed the mood for me, and I can tell from the look on Aiden’s face that the moment has passed for him too.

  “I think I have to go,” he says slowly.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  The air is warm and humid outside. Thick gray clouds have gathered, obscuring the twilight sky and any stars we might have been able to see. Aiden holds his arm out to me, and I take it.

  “Do you have any roommates?” I ask.

  Aiden laughs. “No.”

  “Smart choice.” I smile.

  I glance at the overcast sky. “Want to go for a walk?”

  “Sure.”

  We stroll along the sidewalk. My arm slides down his until we’re holding hands.

  “I’m so sorry about last time. Stacy. The hospital.”

  I squeeze his hand. “Don’t be. It’s your life. I was happy to be part of it.”

  He clears his throat. “Doesn’t make the best impression, though.”

  My belly does a flip again, and I grin at him. “I don’t know. You haven’t scared me away yet.”

  “That’s saying something. Stacy is…well, she’s a lot.”

  I like that he doesn’t resort to bad-mouthing his ex. Even though he could and she’d never know. After meeting her in person, I get the sense that she’d deserve it.

  He continues. “Stacy and I never fit together as a couple. We never really understood each other. We never had that soul-to-soul connection, you know?”

  I startle at his use of the word “soul.” I nod my head.

  “But Jacob was a surprise—when we were dating—and we got married, because of him, and tried to make it work. I guess that sounds old-fashioned, but I grew up without my dad around, and I didn’t want that for him. I want to be there for him.”

  “You are. He’s a great kid. He’s well-loved, by both his parents.”

  Aiden nods. “I think he’s the only thing Stacy and I really ever had in common.”

  “He’s amazing.”

  “He really is.”

  We fall silent and walk on a little longer. Just when I start to wonder how far we’re going to
stray from my house and how long it’s going to take to walk back, Aiden turns us around at the next street corner, and we begin the return walk home.

  “So what do you write?” he asks.

  “Science fiction.”

  He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? I would’ve guessed romance.”

  I laugh. “That sounds like wishful thinking on your part.”

  He laughs too. “Definitely.”

  “I’m sorry about Barclay tonight.” I think about the hot, passionate interlude Barclay effectively threw cold water and ice on. Where would it have gone otherwise? And how wrong am I for wanting more when I’m in someone else’s body?

  “Yeah, his timing’s terrible.” Aiden laughs and stops.

  I turn to face him and his arms slip around me. A car passes us. And another. I feel oddly exposed on the sidewalk in the low light.

  Aiden inclines his head and kisses me sweetly, briefly. Just a promise of more to come light on my lips.

  When he pulls away, he studies me for a moment. “I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve known you before. Somewhere else.” He shakes his head.

  Someone else. I shiver.

  Aiden’s brow furrows with concern. Does he think I’m cold? Afraid? I’m neither. I’m wondering if he’s responding to the real me, Julianne, deep inside this other body. If he can see the real me.

  And if he can, why did he never really see me when I was Julianne?

  At that moment, the clouds rumble and big, fat drops of rain fall on us. Aiden laughs and slicks his hair back.

  “Let’s get you home,” he says, and we run through the rain.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The following Monday I don’t have to work, so I go to the hospital early to get my daily visit over with. No one’s in the room with my body, so instead of touching my hand, just for kicks I lift the covers at the foot of the bed and touch my toes that stick out from the casts. I don’t go anywhere.

  I pull the covers back down and tuck them around the used-to-be me’s feet.

  “I’m not sure this is the right room.”

  “Here it is. It is. Go.”

  Their voices travel to me before I see them, but I recognize them right away. Unbelievably, it’s Dad and Holly.

  Dad steps into the room with Holly close on his heels. He straightens abruptly as if she has pushed him. I stare at him with wide eyes. I haven’t seen him since my nephew, Jackson, was born three years ago. And I only saw him then because Holly made him visit Laurel in the hospital following the births of both his grandchildren. I don’t think he has much feeling for his grandchildren, and he definitely didn’t want to be there, but Holly pushed him to do it for the sake of form. She cares about appearances. She wants to prop up the image she has of him as a normal, caring human being, which I could tell her he’s just not.

  “Hello,” I say.

  “Hi, there,” my father answers. He extends his hand and then crosses the room to me. “Mark Montgomery.”

  Not for a million dollars will I shake. I cough into my hand. “Sorry. I have a bit of a cold.” I cough again for good measure. “Don’t want to risk passing it on.”

  He nods with a frown and pulls his arm back to his side. I stare into his long-familiar face that has aged in the three years since I saw him last. But then again, I look different too.

  “Evie Catrone,” I say. “I’m a friend of Julianne’s from work. I, uh, was the one who left you the voicemail message.” I look down at the used-to-be me and my father’s eyes follow. He leans back like he’s recoiling from the sight and turns away. I don’t blame him. For that, anyway.

  “Hello, I’m Holly Montgomery.” My stomach turns. If my mother were still alive, Holly’s last name wouldn’t be Montgomery.

  I glance at the door, but we must have missed rounds because no welcome distraction in the form of a nurse bustling into the room dispels our awkwardness.

  My father clears his throat. “Uh…so do you know how she’s doing?” He manages to nod at my comatose body without looking at it again.

  “She’s okay. She’s in a coma, but her body’s healing. She could wake up soon.”

  Dad nods. It’s strange to talk about myself with my father. I didn’t expect the tumult of emotions he’d inspire in me. I really thought there weren’t any left. But there are. They’re here, rumbling around my insides, pulling me to cry or run. Part of me is a little girl, overjoyed at seeing my dad and longing for his attention—gratified that I have it for this brief time at last.

  And part of me is a grown-up, bitter at his disappearing act since Mom died and his ability to just get on with his life—without Laurel or me in it.

  As if my thoughts have conjured her, Laurel walks into the room, along with my body’s doctor. It’s getting crowded in the small area.

  Laurel’s face registers surprise when she takes in Dad and Holly. Holly must be feeling the claustrophobia, too, because after greeting Laurel she makes an excuse about finding coffee and leaves the room.

  “So when is she waking up, Doc?” my father asks even before acknowledging Laurel’s presence.

  The doctor clasps his hands. “There’s really no way to know.”

  “But she could wake up,” Dad presses, his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his khaki pants.

  “Yes.”

  “So there’s not a reason to take her off life support yet?”

  Whoa. My heart stammers in my borrowed ribcage. Who said anything about pulling the plug? Why is dear old Dad bringing up pulling the plug? What would happen to me if they did? Would I be Evie forever? What would happen to Evie then? Would I—me, the soul or spirit or essence of Julianne Montgomery—just disappear?

  The doctor glances at Laurel before answering. “No. I don’t think there’s reason to take her off life support yet, though, of course, that time may come.”

  My father nods as if the doctor were agreeing with him, and I want to smack him.

  Laurel and the doctor exchange a few words in low voices and then he leaves.

  And then it’s just the Montgomery family in the room. What’s left of us.

  “Hi, Dad,” Laurel says, looking at him. She glances at me expectantly. I’m still standing by my body’s bed. “Hi, Evie.”

  “Hey,” I say.

  Laurel goes to our father and hugs him awkwardly. Dad pats her back but separates quickly.

  Cutting her eyes at me, Laurel gives me a look like maybe she wishes I weren’t here right now, but I want to see the show unfold until I’m officially kicked out. I go and sit in one of the chairs.

  “Thanks for coming, Dad. I knew you would.” Laurel smiles shyly at him, and I politely keep myself from snorting.

  Dad glances in my direction like he’s wondering if he should credit me, but he doesn’t.

  I wait for them to speak, but they don’t. Instead they stand next to my body’s side, Laurel looking down at me and my father purposely not.

  It’s obvious emotional healing will not take place in front of me after all, as much as I would like to see it. I stand and tell them I have to go. Laurel’s shoulders relax in relief and she smiles at me as she says good-bye.

  I’ll get the story from her later. As I leave the room, I find myself hoping that she’ll have one to tell.

  Chapter Twenty

  Thursday night. The restaurant’s soft opening.

  I invite Barclay, and he says he’ll be there with bells on. In Barclay’s case, I worry he’ll show up wearing actual bells.

  I haven’t seen Jim since the restaurant is now complete and his services as a contractor are no longer needed. As far as being Aiden’s friend goes, he’s probably still around, but luckily not in my vicinity lately.

  And I haven’t seen Aiden since our date last week, nor have we called or texted. I’m sure he has been taking care of Jacob on top of his work responsibilities, and I haven’t wanted to get in the way of that, but I’ve missed him.

  He’s working tonight. He’s runnin
g around dropping things and barking orders and generally not acting like himself. I know he’s busy and nervous and much too preoccupied with everything he has to do to run the restaurant to worry about me and our situation.

  Just what is our situation?

  There’s undeniable chemistry between us, but is that all for Evie’s body? Putting aside my feeling that he’s falling for the parts of me that are Evie and not me, things are going great.

  But that’s a big thing to put aside. I decide not to think about it.

  Not that I have time to think, anyway. Jean-Claude is screeching like a guinea fowl, and all of us servers are running around trying to be the well-oiled machine he believes he’s trained us to be. We are failing.

  “Jill, if you drop another napkin, I will smack you with a spoon!” Jean-Claude hollers.

  Jill looks penitent and picks up the napkin without rattling off a smartass comment, which strikes fear in me. If she can be so intimidated, I should be scared witless.

  An hour after opening, I see Barclay enter the restaurant. In fact, the entire room sees Barclay because he’s impossible to miss. In his defense, he did warn me he was going to make a grand entrance.

  Imagine me still unprepared.

  The door opens and Barclay is framed on the threshold almost as if there’s a spotlight on him. He’s wearing an immaculate white suit with knife-sharp creases in the legs of his pants. A Colonel Sanders-like double-breasted jacket is clinging to its buttons admirably considering the pressure they’re under. White feathers cascade in epic volume down a snowy-white cape topped by a turned-up red collar.

  He looks like a giant chicken.

  Bits of feathers and fluff parachute to the floor behind him as he sallies through the dining room. Ignoring Gretchen who’s trying to seat him, he makes his way to me, having caught my eye as I stare at him, open-mouthed, through the kitchen door.

  “Evie!” His voice is expansive as are the arms he flings sideways, narrowly missing Marco who’s attempting to sidestep the giant chicken and make it through the kitchen door carrying two plates of orange tarragon swordfish and orecchiette pasta.