Soul Insurance

by Glenn Bullion

  "Hey! Please, wait up a second!"

  She let out a startled shout as she fell through the sink. She landed on the floor, her head still sticking through the wall, facing toward the ground. Vertigo took over as she looked at the bushes below from three floors up at an angle she'd never seen before.

  She scrambled back into the kitchen, crawling away from the sink. Rolling onto her back, she stared at the dining room ceiling. The laughter that seized her was unexpected, as were the tears that followed. Maybe she was losing her mind.

  Brooke needed to talk to someone, anyone at all.

  CHAPTER 7

  Connor pushed away his empty plate of Hamburger Helper and leaned back on the couch. The Orioles were losing badly, so he searched the channels for something to watch. Besides baseball Connor was a fan of horror movies, but none graced the TV. He settled on a program discussing the history of soul resurrection, but didn't pay much attention.

  He glanced at the empty spot on the couch next to him. Ryan had only been gone an hour, and he already missed the obnoxious spirit. Connor wished he had someone to talk to, but he purposely kept people at a distance. One of his old supervisors at work caught him talking to a spirit before. He thought he'd lose his job over that. His last girlfriend, as great as she was, eventually asked that question he dreaded. What are you hiding from me? He couldn't answer, and she broke up with him. He didn't blame her at all.

  Out of habit he sat on one end of the couch. A smile spread across his face as he kicked up his legs and stretched out, taking up more room. He would miss Ryan, but perhaps there were small bonuses.

  The bouncing and jumping stopped in the apartment below. Connor muted the TV just in time to hear his dancer neighbor shout.

  "Dammit! I'm getting sick of you spirits watching me practice. If you're gonna do that, at least stay in the corner and stop getting in my way."

  For a moment Connor thought Ryan was already back and tormenting his favorite victim. He was proven wrong when he heard two adolescents laughing.

  "I'd like to show her how I dance…in the bedroom."

  "Can we spy on her in the shower?"

  "I tried. She caught me, and she's been showering in the dark for the past week."

  "Ah, man. Why you gotta ruin things before I get my turn?"

  The voices trailed off, and Connor could imagine them flying out of the apartment, perhaps to spy on someone else. He thought of the woman that lived downstairs. He'd seen her in passing, usually when he came home from work. She was always pleasant, and greeted him with a smile. Ryan told him he caught her staring at him before, but Connor wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. He struggled to remember her name, and went through a few K names before Katie finally triggered his memory. Her name was Katie.

  Connor sat up on the couch, coming to a decision. Perhaps crazy Ryan had finally rubbed off on him. He wasn't going to sit in his apartment all night. As far as he knew, Katie was single. He would go talk to her.

  He made a quick stop to the bathroom to look himself over. He didn't want to hurry, but knew he'd talk himself out of his sudden bravery if he didn't get moving. A haircut was in his future, but it looked good for now. There were dark circles under his eyes. Hopefully she wouldn't notice. He took a few minutes to brush his teeth.

  "Okay, Connor," he told his reflection. "Let's go be social."

  He left the bathroom, and was surprised to see a soul floating in the living room.

  "Ryan? That was a quick trip. Your sister boring you to tears? Look, give me ten minutes. I'll be right back—"

  "Can you hear me?"

  It wasn't Ryan. Connor couldn't stop his eyes from bugging out of his head. He recognized the voice of Brooke Martin, who merely days ago stood in his apartment.

  He was looking at the soul who murdered his parents.

  You belong to Uncle Mikey now, boy.

  Your parents are gone. They can't help you.

  I'll find a way to kill you.

  Connor shook the voices from his head. He put on his best pokerface and absentmindedly went to the fridge.

  "You can hear me! When I saw you the other night running to your car with those two spirits, I thought maybe there was a chance you weren't full of shit."

  He ignored her. If he ignored her long enough, maybe she'd go away.

  "Oh, don't try to play dumb now. It won't work. I know you can hear me. I can see it all over your face."

  It wasn't easy acting natural as he searched through the fridge. Brooke's voice was sweet and easy on the ears, but all he could picture in his head was Mike Burns killing his father, invading their home, and killing his mother.

  "Look, Connor, I just want to talk. Please, talk to me."

  He grabbed a bottle of water and took a drink, trying to seem as normal as possible.

  "You're still here?" he said, addressing Brooke. "I don't know who you are, but there's not much to see here. If you want a good show, there's a cute dancer that lives one apartment down."

  To help drive his point home, he walked down the hall and turned into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He wouldn't talk to her. He couldn't talk to her, because normal people couldn't talk to souls. He had to play the part of a normal person, and most normal people didn't interact with souls, unless they worked at a soul insurance company.

  He was in the middle of changing his shirt when he heard a low whistle behind him. The soul that was now Brooke was halfway between the bedroom and hall only a few inches off the floor. Connor could picture her on her hands and knees, sticking her head through the door.

  "Hot stuff, there," she said. "What happened to your shoulder?"

  His face turned red as he quickly slipped on his shirt, even getting an arm stuck in the sleeve.

  "I'm having trouble, but I've got the moving-through-solid-objects thing down."

  "Look, if you're a guy, the Orioles are losing. If you're a lady, there are far better guys to stare at around here than me."

  "Aww, don't sell yourself short there, Connor. My friend Amber wanted to jump your bones before she met her new guy Pete."

  It took every bit of willpower he had not to laugh at Brooke saying jump your bones. He tried to think of something, anything to do. His original plan of visiting Katie downstairs was out the window. Going for a walk crossed his mind, but Brooke would no doubt follow him, potentially embarrassing him in public.

  He walked past Brooke into the kitchen. Perhaps a chore would bore her enough to go away. He peered into the sink, intending to wash dishes, but there were none. He never entertained company, and washing one or two plates a day didn't take very long. He used a paper plate for his Hamburger Helper, and already washed the pan.

  Brooke's voice was right next to his ear.

  "I'll find a way to make you talk to me."

  I'll find a way to kill you.

  Connor jumped and spun around, pressing himself against the counter. Brooke was only three feet away. She came forward, and he threw his hands up defensively.

  "Stop! Just…stop, okay? Back up. Don't come any closer. You win. I hear you."

  "Jeez. Jumpy much?"

  "Of course I'm jumpy. In case you forgot…."

  "What?"

  "Nothing."

  He leaned his weight on the counter and took a few deep breaths, trying to get his racing heart under control. To her credit, Brooke was finally quiet. When he calmed down he looked up and took Brooke's new form in.

  "I'm really sorry," he said. "What happened?"

  "What do you think? I died."

  "When? Today?"

  "Last night. I broke my neck falling out of my burning apartment."

  "Burning apartment. I heard about that on the news. That's terrible." There was a moment of awkward silence. "So, what do you want from me? Do you have a message you want someone to hear? Proclaimed love for some long lost boyfriend? The secret location to your millions?"

  She giggled. "No. I just want to talk."

  "What? Rea
lly?"

  "Yeah. I've been yelling at people all day, but no one hears me. The other souls hear me, but they can't seem to give me a second to tell me what the hell is going on."

  He walked around her and sat on the couch. Even though they were losing, he decided to put the Orioles back on. To his surprise, they managed to pull back within two runs. He muted the sound.

  "Well, what did you expect? Souls are just people without bodies, and in case you haven't noticed, not a lot of people are very nice."

  She moved near the coffee table. "I don't know. I thought maybe there would be a guide or something waiting for me. I had no idea what to expect."

  "Don't you work at Soul-Ful? You don't have soul insurance?"

  "Do you know how expensive soul insurance is?"

  "I thought maybe you got an employee's discount or something."

  She laughed, and her soul flashed. "No."

  "You can sit down, you know."

  "How do you know I'm not sitting down now?"

  He smiled. "When a person looks at a soul, they're looking at their eyes. So, unless you're twelve feet tall, I'd guess you're still standing."

  She lowered slightly and settled on the other end of the couch. Her soul was level with his head, so he knew she was sitting. She was quiet, and he turned his attention to the ballgame for a few minutes, leaving her to her thoughts.

  "You're not crazy," she said, breaking the silence. "You really can talk to souls. Or rather…you can hear them."

  "Yeah."

  "How did this happen?"

  "I was born this way. I don't remember ever not hearing them."

  "I've seen those shows on TV, with the guy talking to spirits."

  "They're all fake. You know the funny part? Spirits' voices can be recorded, just like a person's. So, I'm watching these shows and while the fake guy is giving all these important messages to the idiots, the spirits are usually laughing and singing."

  Brooke laughed, a sound Connor was starting to like. "Where do you work?"

  "I handle luggage at the airport."

  "You could walk into Soul-Ful right now and name your price. You'd be the highest paid person there."

  "No, thanks."

  "I'm serious. Connor, you could really change the world. No one knows anything about spirit life. We're surrounded by them every day, and we're so clueless. Did you know spirits don't see balls of light? They see each other as actual people. They just glow a little, and you can see through them."

  "Yeah, I know."

  "How do you know? How do you see us?"

  "Like everyone else, but they've told me. I've probably talked to more souls in my life than people. But I don't want to change the world."

  "What do you want?"

  He leaned back and thought for a moment. "I think I want some ice cream."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Yeah. It's just a two-minute drive. You can come if you want."

  "Sure, I guess. It's not like I have anything to do."

  He smiled. "You'll be fine. If you can keep your sense of humor, you'll be okay."

  "Whatever."

  Connor politely held the door open for Brooke as they left the apartment, which drew a laugh from her. They earned a few second looks as they approached his car, something Connor dealt with all his life. People simply didn't walk side by side with a soul.

  He started the car, and noticed Brooke wasn't next to him. She was still on the sidewalk near the door.

  "Are you getting in?"

  "How do I do this? How do I ride in a car?"

  "How did you get to my place?"

  "I walked."

  "Are you kidding? Do you not see the souls flying all around?"

  "I just died yesterday, alright? I don't know what I'm doing."

  "Okay. Just walk through the door and take a seat. The blocks in your head should do the rest."

  "The what?"

  "I'll explain later. Come on, a peanut butter sundae is calling my name."

  He waited patiently as Brooke floated through the passenger's door and settled over the seat. A couple riding bikes slowed down to watch the weird man talking to the soul. After he was confident Brooke was firmly in the seat, he pulled into traffic.

  "I can't believe this car runs."

  Connor patted the steering wheel. "Don't listen to her. She didn't mean it."

  Brooke chose to wait outside Baskin Robbins. She stayed at a bench, and Connor stared as he ate a spoonful of peanut butter goodness. The sun was setting, and the sky was beautiful with souls lighting the way.

  "Brooke?" he said as he approached.

  "Yeah. It's still me."

  He sat next to her, making sure to keep his distance. He hadn't forgotten that the very soul next to him killed his parents and tormented him as a child. They sat in silence for several minutes, watching the world in front of them.

  "I'm so lost," she said.

  "Aren't we all?"

  She moved toward him. He leaned away, and a scowl crossed his face as she aimed for his ice cream.

  "Hey!"

  "Sorry, I just wanted to see if I could taste it."

  "Did you put your little spirit-tongue in my ice cream?"

  "I couldn't even feel it. I'll never be able to feel anything again. I won't be able to hug someone, or kiss them. I won't be able to taste a pizza."

  Connor almost felt guilty eating ice cream, but shoved another spoonful in his mouth anyway.

  "You're right, but your life's not over. You can do some insane things now. Ever wanted to go to Egypt, Paris, Tokyo? Five seconds, and you're there."

  "I can't even walk up stairs without freaking out. I keep thinking I'm gonna fall through them."

  "It's all up here." He tapped his head. "Things will take some getting used to, but your mind is used to following a set of rules, and you just have to learn those rules don't apply. See all the souls flying around you? All you have to do is jump, and focus on not coming back to the ground."

  "What?"

  "I know it's a lot to take in. But you don't have to walk, you can teleport or fly wherever you want. Want to go three miles under the ocean? Not a problem. You don't even need to sleep."

  "I passed out last night, after I died."

  "Stress. It'll happen. When you sleep, you fade away for a while. When you wake up, your soul will come back."

  "Is it true what you said?" she asked, changing the subject. "The soul that I have, did it really kill your parents?"

  He told her the same story he did Ryan, about Brooke's parents and Mike Burns' soul going into her mother.

  "So, stay away from couples that like to have sex," he concluded. "Or you might end up in a womb."

  "I can't even imagine my parents liking each other, much less having sex. They've been separated forever. My dad's a real asshole."

  He nodded in understanding, although was surprised she was sharing personal details with him. They didn't even know each other.

  "I am so sorry for what happened to you," she said.

  Connor waited a moment for a spirit to pass by before speaking again. The spirit stopped in front of them, and laughed before moving away.

  "There's nothing for you to be sorry about. Mike Burns killed my parents, not you. That's a hangup I'll have to get over."

  "What was that about right there? You don't talk to spirits?"

  "I don't want just anyone knowing I can hear them. The lower the profile, the better. I'm used to the little laughs by now."

  "Actually, I think he was laughing at me. I'm sitting here with a living person, wearing nothing but a nightgown and a pair of glasses. How the hell am I wearing glasses? I left them in my apartment. I look ridiculous. I can't fly, can't walk up stairs without getting scared. I can only hope my hair isn't a mess."

  "You're wearing a nightgown?"

  "Out of all that, nightgown was the only word you heard?"

  "No, I heard more than that. About how you look…again, it's all in your head. If you
want to wear shorts and a shirt, just picture it on yourself, and it'll happen. And I guess you see yourself with glasses more than you don't, so you'll feel them on your head."

  She said nothing for a moment, and Connor wondered what was going through her mind. He remained quiet as two other spirits floated past, arguing over their plans for the night.

  "I'm still in my nightgown," Brooke said. "It's not working."

  "It will. You're not gonna be a spirit expert in one day."

  "Spirit expert. I just got offered a promotion at my work. I thought one day I'd get to wear nice clothes, make some money, help people with getting on with their lives. Now, I get to look forward to being a spirit expert."

  Connor was quiet. There wasn't anything he could say to take away the pain Brooke felt. Only time could do that.

  He stood and tossed his finished sundae in the trash.

  "Well, it's about another hour of TV for me before bed."

  Brooke followed him to his car. He was surprised, but hid it well. Goodbyes weren't his best subject, but he wondered what else she wanted to talk about.

  He tossed his wallet and keys on the end table as he stepped into the living room. Brooke was quiet on the other end of the couch as the last of the ballgame transitioned to the late news.

  A reporter was standing in front of an apartment building. Connor recognized it immediately, and went to change the channel.

  "No," Brooke said. "Leave it."

  He listened as the reporter covered the story. Faulty wiring was the prime suspect in the blaze that displaced seven families and claimed one life. He said nothing, but couldn't help laughing as a playful spirit jumped in front of the camera.

  "That was me," Brooke said.

  "Looks like you made that reporter's day."

  "She was actually pissed as hell."

  Connor stretched his arms above his head during a commercial. He didn't know what her plans were, but he'd have to go to bed soon if he didn't want to drag at work.

  "Nighty-night time for me. Any other questions?"

  "I think my head might explode from everything I've learned tonight."

  "I'm not a grief counselor or anything, but let me know if I can do anything."

  "Actually, Connor, there's one thing. I know it's a lot to ask…."