My Boyfriend's Back

by Maureen McCarrie

  Norman sidled toward the front, taking the space beside John's watery figure.

  "Hey," he said, pointing, "you're that weird kid in the hoodie."

  Norman had abandoned his hoodie for an ill fitting suit. John noticed wings— though a smaller, less intimidating set— were also sprouting from his shoulders.

  "There's some funky stuff afoot here, man." John frowned as Norman patted his shoulder.

  The judge cleared his throat. "We are here to rule on the matter of John Lydon's spirit, which has been vacated of his body. The vacation was intended to result in permanent death, however an unauthorized soul transfer has taken place."

  The judge rattled off more confusing stuff, referring to a manilla file in front of him. John was getting a headache.

  "May I assume the standard form A47-442 was submitted in triplicate and signed by an archangel of the first order?"

  Norman waived a piece of paper. "Yes, Your Magnificence, I have the form signed by Metraton here, and co-signed by Uriel."

  "Am I to understand that Mister Lydon's body is now occupied by—" the Angel who appeared to be in charge glanced down at the paperwork, "a Jack Lynch, under the provisional agreement that he reunite with his one true love by the hour of midnight on Valentine's Day?"

  "Yes, your Awesomeness." Norman patted John's shoulder in a way he'd hoped would be comforting, but his hand passed through it.

  "Okay, now I'm really freaking out."

  "The vacated will refrain from speaking until asked to do so." The Poobah guy glared at John.

  "Am I correct in my understanding that you are requesting a Resubmission of Soul to compensate Mister Lydon for—" Camael shuffled some papers, glancing down, "excessive inconvenience and confusion in the service of parting his soul from his body?"

  "I am, Excellence Personified." Norman tried not to squirm.

  Camael leaned forward, peering over the edge of his raised bench. "You realize I know you made that last part up, right?"

  "Err?" Norman felt heat rising in his cheeks.

  The Judge sighed. "Okay, look. This entire case is a mess. I agree, we're going to have to bend the rule book a little. Mister Lydon has, I suppose, suffered some trauma in the removal of his soul. And he didn't exactly give his permission to anybody for the use of his former body."

  John gave an involuntary squeak. Former body? He was missing most of what was being said, but former body?

  "However," the Judge continued, "Mister Lydon was also a major asshole during his time on earth."

  "Hey!" John shot to his feet. Norman concentrated hard, shoved harder, and felt something like resistance as she motioned Lydon back into his seat. He was pretty sure it was all in John's head. His hand had passed right through the shoulder again.

  The judge banged his golden gavel. "Mister Lydon, sit down or I will hold you in more contempt than I already do! You have led a life of arrogance and cruelty. You have been particularly harsh toward women, particularly young, plump women. You were given many gifts, and misused all of them. If Norman hadn't completely buggered this case, you would not be here now, with any possibility of a second chance."

  Camael's face was red with anger. He paused, straightened the collar of his robe, twitched his wings, and took a breath.

  "In spite of this, it is the opinion of this court that you are owed some compensation for the inconvenience of situation at the time of your demise. Should— I'm stressing should— the current occupant of your former body succeed in his task, I am willing to consider a possible alternate outcome for its original owner, namely you, Mister Lydon. As such, it is ordered that if Jack Lynch is not returned to his original body, you be reincarnated upon the final release of your soul, which currently resides in the failing body of Jack Lynch. You will be returned to earth at such time as this occurs, to resume your existence in a new body, one which would otherwise have expired. I will leave the details to..." the judge smiled, "Karmael."

  John Lydon had no idea what had just happened. There were a lot of big words, and something about his body being former.

  Norman winced, caught himself, and forced a smile. He glanced at John, who seemed to grow more watery as he watched. "It's gonna be fine. I gotta run. Next Big Star is on!"

  Chapter 14

  Rori sat on the lip of the fountain behind Hammond High. It was late— she wasn't sure how late. She didn't care.

  This was where she'd lost her last chance. That night twenty years ago, when Jack had turned away from her, she should have chased him, begged him, told him how she felt.

  She tried to picture Jack, fix him in her mind. Sobs racked her as she failed. She sensed motion nearby and raised her head.

  John Lydon was standing there, his blue eyes filled with pity and pain. She wanted to hate him. He was beautiful. She wanted Jack back.

  Rori flew into a rage and lunged at John. He grabbed her upper arms, pulled her against him, tried to stop her hands from pummeling his chest. The world tilted, and they fell, limbs flailing, into the pool.

  Her entire body shook with the force of her broken sobs. She shoved John away, leaning back on her hands in the frigid water.

  "Jack," she cried, the reality of her loss hitting her like a slap. "Oh god, Jack, it's too late."

  "It's not too late, Ror." John reached for her, and Rori had to turn her face away. "It's never too late."

  Rori stared at him and hated herself for finding beauty in the symmetry of his face. The past few days had left her utterly confused and conflicted. She didn't want to forgive John Lydon. But even as she clung to her anger and resentment, she could see the concern in his eyes. These past few days she had seen the change in him. She could see a little of Jack in him.

  John shook the hair out of his eyes, and Rori went completely still. The gesture stripped twenty years away.

  I'm right here, Rori. See me.

  "Are you okay, Ror? This water is freezing." He reached for her.

  She let him.

  She wondered, as he pulled her from the fountain and led her to the truck parked nearby, if there had been something in the wine. The welt on her behind, where the dart had struck her, felt a little too warm. Maybe it was infected. Maybe she was delirious.

  She'd walked from the hotel to the high school, and now she was letting John Lydon take her home. Yeah, she thought, probably delirious.

  ***

  Rori slept fitfully. She had no memory of finding her way back to her hotel room. Wet clothes were stripped from her, and she was bundled into a thick, warm robe. Her hair was towel-dried, and her feet rubbed vigorously until they were pink and the chill had left her bones. But the face of her protector shifted. Jack. No, John. Then Jack.

  She woke to find an envelope had been slipped under her door with a message from Kate Lynch. Doctors were going to shut down life support later that night, and Kate would like to spend the last hours of Jack's life alone with him. Her final, cryptic message was scrawled at the bottom of the hand-written note.

  Don't remember him as an empty shell in a hospital bed. Look for him in the faces of others, and Jack will live on.

  She wept until she had no tears left.

  In the lounge, at the bar, Norman poured coffee for her without being asked.

  "Do you ever go home?"

  He smiled. "How's your... ahh" he gestured to her backside.

  "It's fine." The coffee was good, dark and rich. She leaned over the cup, savoring the coils of fragrant heat.

  "You had me worried last night. I thought I saw you come back late, but I must have been wrong. Concierge said you came in after we shut down with the big guy, both of you soaking wet."

  "I don't want to talk about it."

  She realized her worst fear had just been confirmed. The concierge saw her come in with "the big guy." John Lydon had taken her clothes off, bundled her into a robe, and put her to bed. She wanted to throw up.

  "Well, at least you didn't miss the big send-off party. I guess they are planning some
kind of tribute to Jack Lynch."

  "Oh?"

  "That's what everyone is saying." Norman finally snagged her gaze.

  "I don't know if anyone else has heard, but his mother left me a message. They're shutting down his life support tonight."

  Norman reached across the bar and squeezed her arm. He was a funny little guy, Rori thought. He seemed so young, even awkward— but there was an old soul in there, somewhere.

  "I don't think I can face a room full of people who never did anything but ridicule Jack pretending to celebrate him. I came back here to see him, you know."

  "You seem very troubled about things you left undone. That happens. We miss a chance, we have regrets. But walking away seems, at least to me, to just repeat that same mistake. If you leave, you might be missing another chance. Maybe you could look for his spirit in others."

  Rori's head came up, she scowled. "You're like, the third person to say something almost exactly like that to me this weekend."

  "Well, then" Norman said, "it must be good advice."

  Chapter 15

  Lily Spense's nasal whine echoed through the PA system of the function room where the final hurrah of Hammond High School's Class of 1991 Twentieth Reunion was grinding to an excruciating close. Rori had skipped the earlier part of the evening, unwilling to subject herself to the fake-sorrow of her classmates as they eulogized a man they never knew.

  She'd wandered in after the awards, missing out on the charming ceremony during which hand-made trophies for such towering honors as "most improved bod" and "best nose job" were dispensed amid gales of alcohol-enhanced laughter.

  Thanks, but no thanks.

  John removed the microphone from Lily, to the profound relief of every dog in a ten mile radius.

  The room dimmed, and the music stopped. Behind John, on a big-screen television, a photograph of Jack Lynch at a recent technology summit appeared. He looked so different without his glasses, Rori thought, swallowing a hard knot in her throat.

  John bowed his head for a moment before speaking.

  "I recently had word from Kate Lynch, Jack's mother. He is not expected to survive the night." A murmur rolled through the room in a wave, dying out with a hiss.

  "I know the planning committee had a few words said throughout this farewell gathering, and I'm not going to take too much of your time. To be honest, it would be time wasted."

  More murmurs. Rori sat up, suddenly riveted. Whatever she had felt about John Lydon in high school, she could not deny the angst on his face now. She had to be fair. He was clearly speaking sincerely.

  "Jack Lynch was a multimillionaire. He was the ultimate success story. From the nerdy kid everybody picked on, to one of the most influential men of his age, Jack went on to reach amazing heights— not because of his high school experiences, but in spite of them."

  The room was silent. Rori was stunned.

  "The only thing I would ask of you, his classmates, is that you remember how unfairly and cruelly we all treated Jack. It's too late for you to apologize to him for your cruelty. But it's not too late for you to regret it and do better. Look for Jack in others, and show them the kindness you never showed him."

  John dropped the mic and walked toward Rori, his jaw flexing with withheld emotion.

  There it was again, Rori thought. Look for Jack in others. It felt like some kind of secret code, obvious to everyone but her. She wondered if Jack was gone yet, and felt tears choke her again.

  John moved through the crowd, shrugging off the hands extended to him, or voices calling his name. His time was almost up, and it didn't look good. He had precisely one hour before the grace period ended and he returned to his old body. He wondered vaguely how they'd do it. Would John just drop dead of a heart attack? Would Jack sit up in his hospital bed, his mother waiting, and break the bad news?

  He sat in a table near the door, brooding.

  "That was actually pretty great, what you said." Rori fell into a chair next to him. "It's funny. I keep hearing that phrase. Look for him in others."

  John said nothing. I'm right here, Rori. See me. He closed his eyes and pushed the thought outward with his will, but hope was dwindling.

  "Thank you for tucking me in." She was blushing furiously.

  "I owed you at least that much. Are you feeling okay? You were shaking so hard I thought you would rattle your teeth right out of your head."

  "I'm fine." Her head was bowed. "No, I'm not."

  Hazel eyes met his. Whitney Houston's voice pounded through the speakers.

  "How the hell did we listen to this crap?"

  Rori's snort of laughter was watery with unshed tears. "I don't know. I remember Jack, one weekend down at the beach, got caught singing with his head-phones on. Oh, man, they rode him so hard over it. It was some really cheesy song..."

  "Divinyls, I Touch Myself." He hadn't meant to let that slip out.

  "How on earth did you know that?"

  Rori met his gaze. Was it her imagination, or were his eyes the same blue as Jack's? Of all the people in the world, how could she be looking at John Lydon and seeing Jack Lynch?

  God, Ror, I'm right here. Please, please see me!

  "Why didn't you eat your orange M&M's the other night?"

  "I hate orange things."

  "Why?"

  "I— just do." Look hard, Rori. Look with your heart.

  "When did you start taking Double Stuff Oreos and turning them into Quadruple Stuff Oreos?"

  "I guess I've always done it." I'm right here. You're so close.

  Rori's mind was spinning. Her heart was pounding. The pieces of an elusive puzzle tumbled in her head.

  Kate's guide dog, Preston, shoving his nose into John's hand.

  John, pushing the cookie-tops over to her.

  The pile of orange candies.

  John's mother, Norman, the mystery man in the hospital... look for Jack in others.

  Jack's face, dripping with water and blood, as he turned away from her... John's face, dripping with water and lined with concern, as he tumbled into the fountain with her...

  Jack-John-Jack-John shaking dark hair out of blue eyes.

  Rori glanced toward the door. Norman was standing there, dressed in a rumpled hooded sweatshirt. A strange light seemed to come from within the hood. How could this guy be everywhere, all the time? He caught her gaze across the room and waved, his hand emerging from a box of Crunchios.

  Heaven Can Wait. Freaky Friday. What Dreams May Come.

  Extreme's More Than Words was playing. John Lydon had his eyes pinned on her face. He seemed to be waiting for something. He seemed frightened. He seemed lonely. He seemed...

  "Dance with me." She took his hand and they found their way out onto the floor.

  "When I was five I skinned my knee leaving dance class. I still have the scar." She closed her eyes, pressed her cheek to his chest, and prayed.

  "Your flip-flops folded under and tripped you on the concrete stairs." His eyes flew open. The words were out before he could stop them.

  Rori's face, turned up to his with astonishment, beamed. John shook the hair out of his eyes again, and a tumbler clicked into place with a cosmic CLUNK.

  "Jack!"

  He shut her mouth with a kiss that was twenty years in coming, but arrived right on time.

  EPILOGUE

  Ellington Memorial Hospital, February 15, 2011

  With his mother by his bedside, Jack Lynch's heart monitor gave a prolonged, shrill beep. He flat-lined. Hospital staff marked the time of death as 12:01 AM. His organs were donated to science.

  At 12:02 AM, in a similar hospital room in Augusta, Maine, a fourteen year old girl named Hildegard Applethwait sat up in her bed with a startled gasp, looked down at her acne-speckled, pudgy body, and shouted "son of a bitch!" Her shocked nurses alerted her family, who rushed to the girl's bedside to weep tears of joy, for Hildie had been in a coma nearly a week with no signs of recovery. Doctors had been certain she was brain dead.


  And in case you think that is the end...

  In ten years, Hildegard will have lost quite a few pounds, and her acne will have vanished. Still curvy and wholesome, she will develop a passion for football. On a starry night, after graduating from college, she will go on to win the highest-rated season of Next Big Star, with the largest call-in-vote tally in the show's long-running history.

  So there.

  ###

  About the Author

  Chrissy Olinger is a writer and language forensics specialist who lives in Green Harbor, Massachusetts. You can read more about her online at www.chrissyolinger.com

  Dedication

  This story is for Ahmed. He knows why.