The Soul Seekers

by Amy Saia

“Shit! No way!” He started to laugh. “That’s terrible news, Emma.” He held out his hand. “Well, my name is Jesse. Jesse Limon, but then you should know that, since we’re going to be living together and all.”

  “Live together?” I whispered, staring into his eyes with sudden timidity.

  “Oh yeah. It was kind of a secret, your family doesn’t know about it yet. No one does. Well, except us.”

  He, seeing that I was never going to shake that hand, placed it under his arm and leaned into the chair. “Yeah we’ve been planning it for a while, been trying to save up and all that. It’s why I’m so pissed right now. Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.”

  “You look shocked, Emma. It’s going to be all right, you can trust me. I know it may seem strange right now but you really love me.” He laughed. “You love me a lot. Like, obsessive sometimes.”

  I bit my lip. Where was William? I needed to ask him, needed him to help it all make sense.

  “Don’t get worried, now. They said your memory will come back—we won’t force anything. In the meantime, we can plan our trip.”

  “Trip?”

  “Yeah. We’re gonna have to raise money for travel somehow.”

  His eyes glazed over, then the trance broke and he looked at me again. “There are a lot of things I’ll have to teach you, and it’s kind of important that we leave within the next few weeks, you know, because we have this apartment lined up. Things like that don’t wait in New York.”

  I reached for my water and took a sip, mind bouncing against a blocked tide of information. This Jesse boy was cute but something didn’t feel right. Add to that the fact that a slight nausea had begun to build in my stomach since his arrival.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Yes?” I asked, a little too fast. It was the two women. A wave of relief washed over me. The mom shuffled in, followed by the grandmother, who sat by the windows and set up an antagonistic stare at Jesse’s back.

  “We found your soda,” she announced plaintively, coming over to place a frosty-cold bottle on my food tray. “And you need to eat, for heaven’s sake. Tell your company you haven’t had anything in two days.”

  I held back a smile and pulled the tray to my center. It was cold steamed chicken and green Jell-O. “Want any?” I asked, to which Jesse looked away in annoyance.

  He watched me cut into the food for a few minutes, tapping his fingers against his forearms. “Anyone been in here beside me? Like, any other guys?”

  I had to think about that. It wasn’t as if I could admit to having an angel. I shook my head. “Why?”

  “No reason.” He turned at the sound of a throat being cleared loudly and got up to grab his jacket. “Well, I got some things I need to take care of. I’ll be back later, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I love you.”

  My eyes popped open. “Mwa?” My mouth was full of food. I grabbed the Dr Pepper to wash everything down.

  “I said I love you.” He bent over the bed and laid a soft kiss on my lips.

  I looked at the mom again, but she had her eyes glued to the cold linoleum laid out in pale green patterns.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” he stopped by the door, and reached in to extract a folded paper from his back pocket. “You should watch out for this guy.”

  He walked back over and handed me what looked like a photocopy of an old newspaper article. A familiar face looked out at me by way of a high school photo of the most exquisite human ever created, and one of the most beautiful angels. “Murder!” the headline shouted. I scanned the article fast, only allowing my mind to grab a few important details, the year: 1956, and his name: William Joe Bennett.

  “Yeah, he’d be old now and everything. I don’t know if he’s paid you any visits yet, but you should be really careful. I’m trying to protect you. See ya later, Emma. Mrs. Shay?”

  He quietly acknowledged the mom for the first time, to which she gave him a cold dismissal. After he left, I stared at the article, hands shaking at the accusing words laid out in front of me. It wasn’t fear that made me shake—it was disbelief, anger, injustice.

  “What is it, Emma?”

  “Oh nothing. Nothing.”

  I shoved it under my thigh and resumed picking at the cold food in front of me. My hunger had abandoned me. Even the small salad looked inedible with its dark, wilted lettuce and vinegar dressing.

  “What time is it?” I asked. Where was he?

  “It’s,” Mom pulled her watch out from underneath a long sleeve, “almost one. Are you tired?”

  I shook my head. “No, I just, I guess I’m restless.”

  I laid my head back to stare at the ceiling for a while, counting all the 4x4 asbestos tiles that were laid out like a white checkerboard. After a while my right ear began to pick up the sound of boot heels clicking down the hall. They came closer, stopped, and quietly made their way into the room. I heard something else as well: a soft rhythm of thought, indiscernible, yet undeniable in its source.

  William came to stand beside me, and I felt the coldness of his body wash over my skin. Our eyes met. No words. He looked at my tray of uneaten food and concern caused a little ridge to form between his brows.

  “You should eat.”

  I shook my head, unable to speak with the others sitting there listening.

  “Don’t be foolish. It will help your brain work better so you can remember again. Okay? Eat.”

  He took my hands and placed them on the tray, making it look like I was dragging it by myself.

  I pulled away and put a hand up to shield my face, pretending to scratch at my temple, and mouthed, “Not hungry.”

  “You were begging for food earlier. What happened?”

  “It’s gross.” I pushed it away again, avoiding everyone’s stare.

  He, perceptively, watched the placement of my hand as it dropped to the hidden article under my leg. “Oh. I should have guessed,” he said.

  I narrowed my eyes in question.

  “I know what you have under your leg and who gave it to you. It’s all right; we can talk about that later. Why don’t you lay back and take a nap?”

  I wrapped my arms around my middle to show how cold I was.

  “You want me to get in with you?”

  “Yes.” My whisper set everyone to staring at me.

  “Raise the covers just for a moment, so they won’t notice when I slip in.”

  I did as told, sighing when his cold body flashed in next to mine. The sheet dropped down, and I flipped over to entwine my arms into his.

  “Emma, are you okay?” the mom asked.

  “Yeah. Great.”

  “A nap is a good idea. Don’t mind us being here.”

  “I won’t.” A large sizzle zapped through our skin, and I had to hold in a giggle. “What was that?” I mouthed. “I know it’s not the drugs.”

  He shrugged, trying not to laugh as well. “Maybe there’s a defibrillator in your mattress.”

  I snorted.

  “Don’t laugh, they’ll think you’ve lost your mind along with losing your memory.”

  I gave him a ‘ha, ha that is so funny’ look.

  “Try this, Emma. Try to talk to me using your thoughts. I’m an angel, remember? You don’t have to speak out loud.”

  Can you hear me?

  Beautifully.

  Did you really push your sister in front of that car?

  No.

  I traced his neck with a soft finger. It’s funny, the second I saw the headline, I knew it was a lie.

  You’re too trusting.

  Only with you.

  With everyone. You should be mindful of these things. I won’t always be around, you know.

  I k
now, I know.

  If I could stay with you forever, I would. But, the way fate has placed us, I’m more of a danger to you than an aid.

  I tried to figure that one out, in vain.

  William, you’ve already made it clear that angels and humans can’t . . .

  Never.

  I’m not talking about us, of course.

  Of course.

  But humans and angels. What’s wrong with them loving each other?

  It’s an abomination that would ruin the pure relationship of guidance we’re sent to provide. You see? No angel would ever get their job done if we all fell in love with our subjects.

  It’s a stupid law.

  Sure is.

  I hate following stupid laws.

  Don’t we all.

  Stop making so much sense!

  I moved my fingers to his cheek, and spread them out until his face was cupped gently in my hand. His eyes flitted closed, opened and stayed open as if under difficult command.

  Have you ever kissed a girl?

  A beautiful one.

  Did you love her?

  The thought came through very quiet. Yes.

  Where is she now? Is she still alive?

  He wouldn’t answer. Typical.

  This Jesse guy told me that he and I are going to be living together.

  I already saw it in your head. He’s too cunning, that boy.

  Tell me what I should do. I can’t just go off and live with a complete stranger, can I?

  He thought about this long and hard, but the words went by so fast they were unreadable by my untrained brain. Finally, he let go of a legible answer. There isn’t much time, and he has it all planned out perfect—I can see. Yes, I think you should go with him. I felt his body tense up.

  I don’t think I love him.

  You don’t have to.

  I may be a blank slate, but that sounds awfully crude. An angel telling me to go off with a guy I don’t love? What the hell?

  He let go of a laugh—deep and throaty. Just like you, dear Emma. What am I to do?

  Nothing. I’m going to stay here with you. I don’t care about being safe.

  He sat up in the bed, causing the sheets to rise sharply. I jerked up my knee to make it look natural.

  You don’t have a say in this! I told you no questions. We’ll never be together; we’ll never love. You get to live, and I’ll fade away happy in that knowledge. Understand?

  Our eyes met in a long glare. His face was only a few inches above mine, and as much as I tried, I couldn’t get the image of his lips—how warm and soft they looked—out of my brain.

  I gave up, frustrated. No, I don’t understand. Will you at least tell me about the visions I had earlier? I want to know more about the coin.

  He moved down next to me again. Glad you’re asking. You saw what it looked like, and what we need to do now is help you regain some of your memories to retrieve it. And then . . .

  Yes?

  I want you to give it to Jesse.

  Why did his words set up a panic inside my gut? I met his eyes and blinked against the resolute position of his stare.

  I don’t think I can find it. Anyway, the vision you showed me was kind of blurry.

  No, Emma. You saw it very clear. You must find the coin and give it to him. Remember, no questions.

  I don’t like any of this. There’s something wrong, William. Won’t you help me to understand?

  He paused, taking a moment to look into my eyes again, smoothing my hair with a gentle touch. Everything I do is to benefit you. You have to trust me.

  I started to melt again, a peaceful wave taking over the fear and stress of the past few days. I do trust you. I think I love you—it feels like I always have. Does that make any sense?

  Sleep.

  It’s like I’ve known you before, but not as an angel. I felt his body tighten. I don’t know how I could ever live without you being near me.

  You will. You’re tough, Emma. Remember that. When my time is through, you’ll be happy and live a long life the way you were meant to. Without me.

  A tear wound itself down one cheek. He drew his hand out to catch it before it dropped down onto the sheet. It took him forever to speak again.

  Someday, I’ll be nothing more to you than a memory, a touch of wind in this long, golden hair of yours. But, you’ll be alive, Emma, you’ll be alive. That’s all that I care about.

  I searched his eyes forever, yet found it impossible to derive anything out of their tangled mess of sadness and confusion. His tear-drenched finger caressed my cheek in a soft pattern, causing my eyes to close in contentment.

  Yes, Emma. Sleep.

  17: Transistor

  I woke to a room just beginning to fill with the dark, purple-colored glow of late evening. All the window seats were empty as well as the one against the wall where William liked to sit. But the chair next to my bed was definitely occupied.

  “I’m back,” a voice greeted my blinking eyes.

  “Hi.” I slid another glance his way and then, sitting up, reached to grab the sheet to cover a poorly fitted hospital gown. “Jesse, right?”

  “That’s right. Wow, I still can’t get over how surreal this is, you not being able to remember. Are you sure there’s not some little pesky memory hanging around in there?”

  “Positive.”

  Jesse smiled. “That’s just awful.” He reached in his jacket and produced a candy bar. “Since you missed dinner.”

  I hesitated before taking it, fighting against the slight nausea which took over my stomach. “You didn’t really have to do that. Thanks.”

  “Sure. Hey, got good word today about another apartment that’ll be available sometime in the next few weeks. We really should think about leaving before, say, August twentieth, and that’s kind of pushing it.”

  It was too soon. Surely there was a law to keep poor amnesiac patients from running off with strange guys. Of course, you’d think that’s what angels were for, but mine was telling me to go. Definitely messed up.

  “That’s not very far off. I’ll have to think about it.”

  “No time to think. Just trust me and I’ll make all the arrangements, okay?”

  Deciding I was hungry after all, I ripped open the candy bar: melted chocolate with gooey nougat inside. “Why is it that I know what a Three Musketeers is, but I can’t remember any human on this earth?”

  “Don’t ask me, honey. Just work with it.”

  “Pfft. That’s easy for you to say—you know me, but I don’t know me. My head is pounding, everything aches, and the whole world is like a big mystery ball waiting to be shaken.”

  “That would suck.”

  “It does.” I laughed at his easygoing attitude, and took a bite of messy candy bar before speaking again. “You’re funny.”

  “Better than TV.”

  “Much. I can see why I’d want to move in with you. I mean, you’re hot, you seem nice. Only. . . .”

  “What?”

  “You make me want to barf.”

  “Explain, please!”

  “Something about you makes me on edge, and yeah, kind of nauseated.”

  He leaned back, trying to look relaxed. “Hmm, I wonder if you’ve been holding in that little secret the whole time we’ve known each other?”

  I shrugged.

  “Because, it’s very important that you trust me in every way, Emma. Very.”

  A flash of something forged through my brain, dragging a blade of affliction with it. I’d heard his words another time, I realized. The same speech, the same conviction. Our eyes met. “You’ve said something like that before, I think.”

  He looked nervous and sat forward, arms on k
nees. “You think so?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Black loss crept in. “And now it’s gone.”

  “Geez, I’ll have to watch what I say from now on.”

  “Sounds like you don’t want me to remember.”

  “Of course I do. God. Don’t be paranoid. I just don’t want you to get everything back too fast and get messed up with an overload of information, you know.”

  “Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense.” I bit my lip.

  “And I don’t want you to worry about things. Relax, Emma. I brought you something else.”

  “What?”

  He reached in his jacket and pulled out a pack of cards. “The poor man’s ticket to prosperity. Remember anything about poker?”

  “Can’t say I do.”

  “Well, then you’re about to be taught by the best. Luck, skill, and lies, my friend.” He cut the cards, all the while blazing those dark brown eyes at me, a daring raise of his brow creating the perfect effect of wicked master about to taint the innocent.

  And so it began—our nightly session of every kind of poker game you can think of—Texas hold ’em, open draw, five card stud. I was a quick learner, something he seemed to appreciate. Jesse was funny, he made me laugh, and I was happy to have him around. He helped me to forget, after the painful sun went down, the loneliness that permeated my soul. I couldn’t tell him the reason I needed him, or how much I feared night. Our connection was unspoken, natural, primal and I could tell he was desperate in the same kind of way.

  After day six, I was allowed to get up and walk. The first thing I did was go straight to the mirror and take a good long look at the bandaged monster. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. The girl reflected in the silvery glass was still human-looking despite the little scars on her cheeks and forehead and arms and legs. Her long hair needed a good brushing, but it still shined golden along tan shoulders.

  Every day my family came to visit, but the concern grew on their faces with the continued absence of any memories. The mom looked on edge, always on the verge of saying something, but never reaching beyond the general platitudes of conversation. We talked of the weather, what food I’d eaten that day, how was I feeling, was I comfortable? I liked her, but she was a stranger just like everybody else. I asked if I could call her by her first name, Pauline, and she said yes, though she never really looked very comfortable when I did. So I kept calling her Mom.