Was that his limo?
He glanced back at Norman. This was the guy who had been following him. He was slim, short, and scruffy. Thick glasses with dark rims made the nose seem rather wide in his young face. He wore, beneath the ever-present hoodie, jeans and Chuck Taylor sneakers. Behind him Jack noticed a backpack with a box of Crunchios cereal crammed into it. A few golden nuggets were scattered about on the ground.
"Let me get this straight. You are Norman, and you bring me tidings of dammit, and you have been following me around in that sweatshirt yanking on your string-thingies, and I'm temporarily dead."
"Pretty much." Norman grinned again. "Sorry about the delivery. I actually nearly missed you. I was having a snack and the deer ran out into the road, and I missed some stuff in the file because I was watching Next Big Star. Do you watch? This has been the most amazing season—"
Jack stared. This was a dream. It had to be a dream.
"Can we get back to temporarily dead? You'll understand my preoccupation, I assume."
"Oh, that. No worries! You have led a good life, Jack Lynch, and when given the opportunity to harm another, you chose to be kind. In that moment you earned yourself a second chance." He seemed to be reciting from a script in his head. Norman, Jack thought grumpily, seemed absolutely pleased as punch with himself.
Jack was still confused. "I chose to be kind?"
"It was in the file."
"How did I—"
"I may have missed parts of the file, but the salient details lead us to, well, now. You could have been cruel to John Lydon, but intended to be kind. You get a do-over."
"A do-over?" Yep. Definitely a dream.
"Yeah, but we have to hurry. The ambulance is here and I have to get you back in your body. I was running late because—"
"Right, Next Big Star."
"Gosh, that girl from Chicago is amazing, isn't she? The important thing, Jack, is that I bring you tidings of joy, and a second chance. You know— yadda yadda. Follow me!"
Dazed, still convinced he was dreaming, Jack followed Norman, who led him to a dark form lying face-down in the snow. Exhausted, he allowed Norman to guide him down, felt a sudden tug that blurred the edges of the world, and everything went from white back to black.
The archangel Uriel stepped to the edge of the snowy road. A limousine lay on its side. Emergency vehicles flashed red and blue lights. The driver was being treated for minor wounds. He glanced around, and saw Norman escort the milky figure of Jack Lynch's spirit into the solid, muscular body of John Lydon.
Uriel clenched his fists, wings quivering, celestial teeth grinding.
"Dammit!"
Chapter 5
Heaven, Office of Human Resources
Norman was chewing his cuticles, jiggling his leg, and shedding Crunchios all over the carpet in the waiting room. He heard an occasional murmuring voice and was sure it was Uriel. He heard the vague noises of office staff moving paperwork about. But mostly he heard Metraton, who was pretty ticked off.
Metraton, The Voice of God, had been forced to make a trip to HR because of Norman. They would clip his wings, he was sure of it. His first assignment, and he'd get clipped. Could it possibly get worse?
The leg he was jiggling got jigglier. A cherub wearing an ankle monitoring device came by with a hand-vacuum and sucked up Crunchios.
"Hey Sid." Norman remembered Sidney from Basic Celestial Ethics class. Last he'd heard Sid was placed among the lower cherubim, and got a sweet gig as a cupid. "What happened?" He nodded to the ankle.
"Jesse James and Sandra Bullock."
Norman hissed. "That was you?"
"I missed, ok? It happens! She'll be fine."
Sid stormed off.
Uriel opened the door in front of Norman, curling a finger at him. He took a deep breath, adjusted his backpack on his shoulder, and stepped forward to face the music.
Metraton was standing in the corner of the room, his wings extended and bristling. He was huge. He'd always scared the crap out of Norman, and it wasn't just the fact that he was The Voice of God. It wasn't even his sheer size and imposing presence.
Metraton just gave off a vibe that said "no tolerance." He was like one of those principals who'd served in the military before settling down to run a reform school. Those guys never stopped wearing the buzz cut. He was, in short, a hard-ass.
Norman gulped and tried not to pee.
"Do you have an explanation?"
This was tricky. Norman did, in fact, have an explanation, but the basic gist of that explanation involved him screwing up pretty seriously.
"Erm." As an opener it lacked panache. Norman glanced at Uriel, who refused to meet his gaze.
Metraton picked up the manilla folder in front of him. "I assume you read the file, cover to cover, and had a plan in place to complete what should have been a very simple task?"
"Erm."
"Indeed. You were to show up at the scene of the accident, greet the subject, sooth his fears, praise his goodness, and return him to his body so that he could continue on with a blessed and fulfilling life. This was to be a reward. It has become a mess."
Norman gulped and opened his mouth—
"If you say erm again I will smite you."
He didn't say erm. He didn't say anything. Uriel sighed.
"Metraton, the damage is done. All we can do now is move forward from here."
"And have you explained to Norman that we have a further complication?"
"I was waiting to chat with you before I got into that."
"Oh, well, certainly let's you and I chat before we break the news. Well, since we've had our chat," Metraton spat the word, "I'll fill him in, shall I? Jack Lynch won't let us put him back in his own body. John Lydon is in a coma. His soul is lingering at the edges of existence, very confused."
Uriel leaned over and whispered "we gave him one of those hand-held video game systems He seems entertained. Likes the little hedgehog. Not the brightest bulb on the tree."
Metraton silenced Uriel with a glare.
"The point is Jack has saddled us with a bit of a problem. The paperwork alone is going to be a nightmare. We have a soul swapping— an unauthorized soul swapping. Since John was supposed to die, and Jack to get a second chance, I had to apply for both an extension and a release form A47-442."
Norman stared. Were those actual crickets chirping or was that in his head?
"A47-442? Not ringing any bells? Standard Permission to Occupy Recently Vacated Body with Substitutional Soul? I have only issued four of these in history, Norman. And this is me speaking. I've been around for all of history."
Uriel stepped forward, biting his lip. "I think Norman understands his error."
"Oh, I doubt it." Metraton was quivering with rage. "But there is very little I can do about it. And while I would like to fire you on the spot, Norman, I am not authorized to do so. But I do speak for Him. And this is straight from the desk of the CEO, Norman. You and Jack have one thing in common. You are both getting a second chance. Neither of you will get a third."
Metraton, Voice of God, had the unique ability to actually speak in italics. They stung a bit. Norman waggled a pinky finger around in his ear. It was still vibrating.
Handing the file to Uriel with a snap, Metraton turned his back on Norman.
"Fix it. The adjustments have been noted in the file. Don't let this idiot out of your sight until you are sure Jack understands the renewed terms. And anything else he does that meets with mayhem is going to be on your head, Uriel."
He vanished.
The room trembled with the final echoes of his rage. Norman couldn't seem to raise his head, but he looked up at Uriel through his lashes.
"I'm wicked sorry, Uri." And he truly was.
Uriel sighed and patted Norman on the back. There was a muffled click, a weak pop, and one of his wings deployed.
The archangel flicked a Crunchio off his immaculately white sleeve. "Fix your wing, kid, we have a lot of work to do."<
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Chapter 6
Ellington Memorial Hospital, Hammond, MA
Two doctors— one with an eerily familiar young face— stood by John Lydon's bedside.
"Let me get this straight." He looked from Norman to the new guy. "I was given a second chance so that I could reconnect with my one true love."
"Right." Norman was clutching a clip board.
"And if I can get her to fall in love with me in this body before the reunion weekend ends— midnight on Valentine's Day— I get to keep my life and this body. If not, I have to go back to my old body, John's body dies like it was supposed to, and I lose the girl."
"Right." Norman fidgeted.
"But I can't tell anyone who I really am unless they guess first."
"Right."
"Not going to be a problem."
Uriel held up a hand. "You not only can't reveal yourself until the other party has guessed accurately. If you agree to the terms you will be John Lydon. None of your money or resources will be available to you. As far as the world is concerned, Jack is in a coma. This is certainly not an ideal situation, but..."
"It's not a problem. My mom will loan me some money."
"You can't tell her who you are, Jack." Norman bit his lip.
"I know. It won't be a problem." John smirked at the angels in white coats. "My mom will figure it out in ten seconds."
"You don't know that. You need to think very carefully before you agree to the revised plan, Jack— err— John." Uriel was worried. This was not going well at all.
"Mister Uriel, how many Irish mothers have you known in your eternity?"
"Quite a few, actually," Uriel answered.
"It won't be a problem." As he spoke a small woman with lavender hair bustled past John's room. A large black dog with an orange service vest clicked across the tiled floors at her side. She was on her way to the Intensive Care Unit, where the body of Jack Lynch— the original body, at any rate— lay in a coma.
John-Jack fingered the bandage covering the stitches in his forehead. "Am I free to go?"
The angels nodded, and watched him stroll out of the room, hot on the heels of the lavender-haired woman and her guide dog.
John— he was going to have to start thinking of himself as John, at least until he could get people to start calling him Jack— followed his mother to the elevators. He stepped in beside her, automatically making room for Preston, the service dog she'd been with for six years. Preston's tail began to wave slowly; he looked up at John with clear, bright eyes and shoved a wet nose into his hand.
"Can you press number three for me?" Her voice was thin and shaky. A pang shot through his heart as his mother's fear reached him. He hated that she was worrying about him.
"Yes, ma'am, I'm going there, too." Feel me, mom. He sent the thought toward her with all his might. I'm right here. Preston knows me.
His mother had always been special. Born blind, she had never let her disability keep her from living a full life, trying new things, and meeting each day with a sense of adventure. She was a woman of faith, and had an uncanny second sense... some would call it intuition, but Jack knew it was more. He stood beside her in the elevator, trying to become accustomed to his new John-ness. If anyone was going to figure this out, it was mom.
"Do I know you, young man?" Atta girl, he thought.
"You do, ma'am. I'm John Lydon. I was in the car with Jack, he offered me a ride.
"John Lydon never called anyone ma'am in his life and my Jack never liked him. The voice is right, though. You must have learned some manners in the last twenty years. Your mother will be thrilled."
"Yes, ma'am." He grinned. Bless her purple-headed heart! "I know Jack and I were never friends, but he was generous enough to offer me a ride and discuss some business matters with me. I wanted to see him, actually, before I left the hospital. I wasn't sure they would let me in. I'm not family."
"No, you definitely aren't." Kate Lynch tilted her head. "But I guess I could vouch for you. I get the feeling there's more to this story than you're telling."
The elevator doors opened. Reaching for his mother's arm, he took the side opposite Preston and guided her into the hallway. She froze.
"That's strange." Her little head tilted again, as if she were listening to voices only she could hear. "Preston let you lead me. He's only ever let my husband— god rest his soul— and my son do that."
"Yes, ma'am?" You can do it, mom!
Uriel and Norman (who didn't need elevators) were lingering by the nurse's station as the trio— man, woman, and dog— entered Jack Lynch's room. Norman flashed a "thumbs-up" as they passed. Kate Lynch turned her head, almost as though she could see him. The handsome young man at her side grinned.
***
Two hours later John Lydon was sitting in Kate Lynch's kitchen, a mug of coffee steaming in his hands. If the neighbors could see them they would be astonished. The boy from three doors down who had egged her house every Halloween and tormented her son through four years of high school was eating a warm scone with jam.
"Do you need me to go to the bank, Jackie?"
"I should be fine for a while, mom. If I can stay here I'll just check out of the hotel and use the cash John has on him to get through the weekend. I have a sinking feeling it's almost everything he's got. And you're going to have to start calling me by his name for now."
"Not when it's just us!" She reached over and placed her hand on his arm.
"It would be better to make it a habit, mom. I have to get used to it, too." He took another sip from his mug. "If I keep thinking of myself as Jack I'll slip up. I'm John. At least until I've gotten Rori to see me. I can always start using Jack as a nickname later on. Like JFK."
"Rori... she's going to be a problem, Ja— uh, John. She hated him— uh, you."
"She went to the prom with John Lydon. This John Lydon. The good-looking football star."
"She wanted to go with you. She hinted for weeks. And she never forgave him for what happened that night, son."
He shrugged. His mom had been insisting that Rori McLeary felt more for him than friendship forever. But every girl at Hammond High wanted to be seen on John Lydon's arm, and Rori had gone to prom with the quarterback.
Now those arms— big, solid guns— were his. The new John Lydon had looks. Now he also had brains.
"Well, mom, if we're meant to be together she'll see me. I have to admit, it's nice to be big and good-looking for a change."
"You were always good-looking."
"Said my blind mother." He grinned.
"All the ladies said so."
"All the ladies who said so were your age, your friends, and lying."
Kate sniffed. There was no convincing him. "Everyone called you her boyfriend."
"Yes, they did, mom, but they were making fun of her. And she used to turn beet red. She hated it."
"Did it ever occur to you, boy, that she was blushing because she liked it?"
No, he thought. That had never, ever occurred to him.
"Well, your uncle said you could borrow his truck." Kate dropped the keys into his hand. "Finish your coffee and go get your girl."
Chapter 7
Willow Bend Country Club Ballroom, Hammond, MA
Rori McLeary sat at the bar, a dull roaring sound rushing through her head. She was numb. The ballroom had gone utterly silent as Lily Spense had made the announcement. The DJ had killed the music. John Lydon— the son of a bitch— was standing with the gaggle of cheerleaders who had organized the reunion, a bandage on his brow.
Jack was in a coma. A sickening, cold block of dread formed in her stomach.
Lydon kept trying to catch her eye. Rori felt like throwing up. He took the microphone hooked into the PA system from Lily and tapped it.
"If I could get everyone's attention for a sec?"
Rori narrowed her eyes at him. What as he up to?
"I know all of us have Jack Lynch in our thoughts tonight." Lydon looked straight at Rori as
he spoke. "I was with his mother earlier, and we have no news. Just that Jack is in a coma. I know the ballroom is rented for the night. I think Jack would want everyone to re-connect, think of him, and let the reunion continue."
Rori's jaw dropped. What a load of absolute crap! When Jack failed to show up to deliver his speech everyone had begun speculating. He ditched on purpose; he was seen leaving the hotel with John Lydon and they got in a fight; he was called away on business and left from the hotel parking lot in a helicopter. Nobody spoke of Jack as though he were a valued friend. Suddenly his most despised enemy was speaking for him like an old friend.
Her nails biting into her palms as she trembled with anger, Rori surged to her feet. She headed straight for John Lydon.
Big, solid, still insanely handsome, John smiled broadly at her, his arms opening in welcome. Rori carved a path through her classmates, dark hair escaping from the diamond clip, curling around her pale face. Her eyes flashed. A circle of curious gawkers formed around them in the center of the floor.
"What the hell are you up to, John?"
"Rori, it's really great to see you." Murmurs. Gasps.
"What the hell are you up to, John?"
"I don't know what you mean, Rori." Lydon's face went tight. He reached a hand toward her. "You look gr—"
Somebody screamed. Somebody else laughed. The bartender swore. John Lydon lay sprawled on the dance-floor, a disco-ball spinning gently above him. He cupped his hands over his groin and curled over onto his side, moaning.
Rori McLeary, had kicked him in the nads.
***
Rori stared into her glass of white wine, slumped at the bar in the Hammond Suites lounge. She didn't think she could face her hotel room, littered with mementos. Every hope she'd ever have of facing Jack was melting away. She was too shaken to pray for him.
My Boyfriend's Back Page 2