“Please call me Nina.”
Mei Lee smiled, making it known that using her most current name on earth once more indicated that she didn’t feel like she belonged in heaven just yet. “Very well. But you chose the physical world quite often. But your soul is still tentative, just as you are now. You’re reluctant to give yourself over to all that disappointment, heartache, and tragedy that others experience in relatively fewer lifetimes.”
That conclusion rang true with Nina. Having wealthy parents, she hadn’t known what a lifetime of poverty felt like. Still, she didn’t rely on them for money. She rented a small apartment, and her wages and tips from both the restaurant and the bar allowed her to pay her bills, even if she didn’t have the luxury of going out on the town during the weekends. After all, the last vacation she took was a family getaway to New York during high school. Nonetheless, the idea that she would prefer a lifestyle of internal strife compared to one of external conflict rang true to her.
She always felt like her own expectations were more difficult to achieve than those others had set out for her. Sure, if she were to follow her parents’ professional path, Nina would have to remain dedicated, and the intellectual prowess needed for a position in that field required steadfast resolve. Besides, there were plenty of lawyers in the United States.
But how many female recording artists’ success stretched across more than a couple decades? Madonna and Mariah Carey came to mind. Britney Spears had become more famous for being famous than from her musical contributions. Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood, two of Nina’s favorite contemporary artists, hadn’t been around long enough yet. And even her all-time most beloved singer, Whitney Houston, had succumbed to the difficulty of living an extraordinary life and couldn’t continue the span of hits from the mid-80s to the early 90s before passing away at an early age.
“Were you happy on earth?” Mei Lee asked her.
“Don’t you know? You’re up here with a big telescope, spying on me.”
“I too have an existence. I’m involved in activities I enjoy. I meet with friends. I have hobbies. Besides, as I said, time on earth drags compared to here on the Other Side. In all honesty, it would be quite boring watching your existence every moment of every day. Would you rather I watch over you while you’re using the toilet?”
“Really? We’re in heaven, and you’re making potty jokes?”
“I always did enjoy startling you with my somewhat abrasive humor.”
Nina didn’t consider it abrasive – just surprising. “But to answer your question: no, I wasn’t happy on earth. I didn’t accomplish what I dreamed of doing with my life. My parents were right. I’m a failure.”
“But do you consider yourself a failure?”
“Well, no, because I haven’t given up. How could I be a failure, if I’m not done fighting for what I want? If I keep at it, it’ll happen, right?”
“Don’t you know?” Mei Lee asked.
“How would I know? You’re the one in heaven. Wait, doesn’t my chart say if I succeed or fail? Isn’t that why we’re here?”
“Exactly. So let’s see if we can find out.” But a sly smile revealed that she had other plans.
CHAPTER SIX
“Now where are we?” Nick asked, looking around at row after row of shelving units. “We’re in a library? And this is heaven? Man, are people going to be disappointed.”
Roland chuckled. “I disagree. I think they’ll be quite pleased when they visit the Hall of Records.”
“So what, do they keep all of the great feats in world history here? Like how many NBA Championships Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant won? Maybe all the Masters championships Tiger Woods won?”
“That and much more.”
“Oh, so it also includes all of the women Tiger Woods had affairs with while he was married?”
“It also includes all of the women you’ve slept with, Nicholas.”
“What?” Nick spun toward Roland. “What are you talking about?”
“This building houses the lives of every single person who has ever lived.”
Nick, who couldn’t tell if Roland was kidding, looked askance at him. “But I’m nobody special. What did I ever accomplish? What did I ever do that was important?”
Roland looked hurt by the insinuation. “Every person makes a contribution to the world. Some do so in ways that go unseen by the naked eye. Something as simple as a smile could mean the difference between success and failure. A helping hand could spark a friendship that lasts the test of time. Your mindset is too limited. Living on earth has dulled your sensation to what is truly important. And that is but one reason why God has created heaven: to help His children understand the power of love.”
“You’re a big fan of Huey Lewis and the News, aren’t you?”
“You can try to fool yourself all you like, but you can’t fool me. I know you. Better than you know yourself.”
Those words, and the way Roland phrased them peeled back Nick’s defense mechanism (a sense of humor tinged with antagonism) leaving him vulnerable. And it made him believe Roland’s words, which horrified him in more ways than he could comprehend. Because Nick had never let anyone inside his mind, let alone his heart. Yet, Roland looked at him with such unnerving intensity that Nick believed that he knew his every secret, his every misstep, and his every shortcoming.
But then Nick reminded himself that he controlled this dream and everyone in it. Taken in that context, he had substituted Roland as an outward impression of himself. That way, Nick was having a conversation with himself, similar to that of having an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other, each with their own agendas. So, of course, Roland knew about Nick’s life. Because Nick had created Roland, and in this instance, he served as the angel and stumped for all his good intensions, while Nick had placed himself in the role of the devil and all the selfishness, egotism, and immoral deeds he’d ever committed.
“Sure you know me,” Nick said, cracking a smile. “Of course you do. And I know everything about you.”
Roland gave him a sideways glance. “Oh, I see. You still think I’m imaginary.” Disappointment crept across his face. He remained still, lost in thought. “Shall we move along then?” He clapped Nick’s shoulder and snapped his fingers.
A moment later, they stood among stacks of brown leather books.
Down the aisle, sitting on a wooden bench with her knees drawn up against her chest with Mei Lee doing the same opposite her, Nina opened a book and flipped parchment pages that looked as if they’d been created by the first printing press.
“Hey,” Roland said, charging up to them, startling Nina to such an extent that her fingers trembled. The book fell from her grasp and hit the ground. “That doesn’t belong to you.”
Mei Lee jumped to her feet with a victorious smile. “It doesn’t belong to Nick either. Or have you forgotten that anyone can view any given book on any one of these shelves?”
Nick followed in Roland’s footsteps while his eyes met Nina’s for a moment before she lowered her gaze, looking guilty for getting caught doing…what exactly?
Nina spun around, setting her eyes on Roland as he approached Mei Lee, who snapped up the book a second before he stopped a few inches away from her. She held the book tight against her chest and wrapped both arms around it, securing it in case Roland attempted to tear it from her possession.
“Is fairness a new concept for you?” Roland asked. “Wouldn’t you grant Nicholas the chance to view his own chart before putting it on public display?”
“Nina is not a casual acquaintance, so don’t treat her like one. Besides, you remember their pact, don’t you? They may view each other’s charts but not their own.”
Roland opened his mouth to respond, but he either agreed with Mei Lee’s assertion or didn’t know how to counter it, because he simply glared at her. But Mei Lee didn’t back down at all. If anything, she met the severity of his scowl and increased it.
Nick picked up on
the obvious romantic undertones between them. And he admitted to a level of curiosity about their past, if only because he enjoyed seeing Roland so rattled. It contrasted with the always-in-control demeanor he employed whenever they were alone. But Mei Lee’s statement that Nina deserved the right to see Nick’s chart baffled him. He barely knew Nina, so what did Mei Lee mean about a pact they had agreed upon? Perhaps he only wished that he’d known Nina. That made more sense than having drafted a template for his life on earth.
He glanced at Nina, who also looked confused. She got to her feet and stood beside Mei Lee in a show of support.
Nick felt bad for Roland, so he made his way over to him and decided to relieve the tension. “Everybody ready for a picnic? Roland, did you remember to bring the bologna sandwiches?”
Neither Roland nor Mei Lee acknowledged his inquiry, too wrapped up in their own personal issues.
“Oh, man,” Nick said. “You prepared tuna and cucumber sandwiches again, didn’t you?” He placed a hand to the side of his face to feign a confidential tone as he said to Nina, “he has peculiar eating habits.” He draped a hand on Roland’s shoulder.
“Please dispense with the comedic asides, Nicholas. I’m in no mood for fun and games.”
“Yeah, because you’re such a fun guy and all.”
Nick noticed Nina regarding him with a charming expression. He’d never seen anyone look at him like that before. When it came to women, he’d become accustomed to either anger or happiness. For whatever reason, he’d never been able to cultivate a middle ground. They either loved spending time with him or wanted to slap his face…often and with great force behind it. He supposed that he only had himself to blame for their indignation. Of course, they spent plenty of time yelling or cursing at him for not “having feelings,” or being “incapable of commitment” or “scared to let anyone in.” And these responses persuaded him to retract whatever feelings he’d had, similar to that of a turtle hiding within its shell upon an impending attack.
Therefore, upon seeing Nina granting him an introspective glance, Nick said. “We should go dancing.”
Nina quirked an eyebrow. “Really? Are you any good?”
“I’ve got moves.”
“But are they any good?”
“That’s a risk you’ll just have to take.” He held out a hand.
She took it.
When they touched, Nick felt a stimulating sensation, only not in the physical sense. It was an emotional attachment that left him feeling centered and at peace. When he met Nina’s gaze, he knew without a doubt that she also felt those same emotions, even though he couldn’t quite understand how or why that certainty struck him.
Startled by such intimacy, he almost let go of Nina’s hand. But a second later, desperate to resume that subtle but powerful sensation, he held her tighter, hoping to increase the feeling that overwhelmed him. But doing so smothered that which he wanted to experience. Confused, he winced in irritation.
“Don’t think,” Nina said in an understanding tone. “Let your feelings guide you. Take me out dancing.”
“But I don’t know how.”
“Like this.” She reversed her grasp, so that she took his hand. “Don’t think. Just do.”
A moment later, they stood outside a tiny wooden shack the size of a convenience store but with the rough exterior of a barn. Above the door, a yellow rectangular billboard featured a red sign that said: “Dance the Night Away.”
“Cool,” Nick said. “Maybe they’ll play some Van Halen.” He referred to a track off the group’s second album.
“It’ll happen if you want it to,” Nina said.
Of course it would. Nick had created this world, and he kept forgetting that he could change anything at any time. All he had to do was think it…and it would appear. His thoughts veered in a different direction, where he sat on a plush red loveseat while the Hollywood actresses Jessica Alba, Mila Kunis, and Rachel Bilson strutted toward him in sexy lingerie with pleasing smiles on their faces, eager to fulfill his deepest desires.
That singular thought should have changed the scenery. Only it didn’t play out as he expected. He remained outside the barn with Nina.
And when he looked at her, he knew why the trio of famous actresses hadn’t appeared before his eyes: none of them could elicit the sensation he’d shared with Nina only moments ago when she’d simply taken his hand. That connection, that simple act had made him feel more in touch with himself than at any other time in his life. And that encounter generated an intensity that rivaled the sensuality of sex. On second thought, that momentary link surpassed any sexual interlude he’d ever experienced. But how? They had only touched. How could it possibly compare to sex?
Unable to comprehend the bond between them, Nick decided to trust Nina’s earlier comment: Let your feelings guide you. Don’t think. Just do. He grabbed hold of the door handle and yanked it open, placed a hand at the small of her back, allowing Nina to enter first.
After she stepped inside, he followed and offered her the crook of his arm. When she slipped her arm through it, a part of his soul that had long been vacant opened up to him. It felt similar to opening the windows in your home after a long winter, allowing you to take in the scent of spring.
Nick turned his eyes upon a dance club unlike any he had ever seen. He’d visited plenty of clubs, where DJ’s played dance oriented artists ranging from Flo Rida and Lady Gaga to Pitbull and Kesha. Those rhythm and bass influenced musicians encouraged a specific style of dancing. And although he spotted a number of couples exhibiting that which looked familiar to him, the majority of the men and women dancing seemed to have emanated from different periods in human history.
Straight ahead, a woman wearing a scarlet frock danced the Charleston while the wide necklace of white pearls around her neck swung from one direction to the other. Her partner, attired in a black tuxedo without a bow tie, threw his arms out and swung his legs.
Behind them, a man wearing a checkered, buttoned down dress shirt did the twist while the woman opposite him, wearing a short-sleeved blouse and a dark skirt did the same. Both roared with laughter, their faces shining, not with sweat, but with pure happiness.
To their left, a group of men in black leather jackets and ripped up jeans clapped their hands and bobbed their heads in unison while standing in a circle as a young man in the center did some breakdancing. Off in the distance, a couple rows of men and women dressed in Elizabethan era clothing undertook a style of dance, no doubt familiar to that period. Elsewhere, couples enjoyed themselves while engrossed in salsa dancing, line dancing, tap dancing, disco dancing, Irish dancing, ballroom dancing, and so many other different styles that Nick’s head spun.
And while this scene would have shocked almost any visitor, he only now realized something equally out of place: not one musical note sparked through a stereo system. Only the sounds of laughter, talking, and shoes clacking against the floor hit his ears.
“What the hell!” Nick had never seen such an unusual scene in his life. It dawned on him that he’d had that thought quite a bit during this dream. And while that alone should have tipped him off that he had a demented imagination, another fact rivaled the soundless dance hall: the exterior of this building indicated a hole in the wall type dance club, allowing no more than sixty people to dance in comfort. But the size of this venue dwarfed that estimate.
Hundreds of individuals occupied this building. And every couple had plenty of space to themselves; each section, where different dancing styles converged, granted enjoyable scenery as well as a distinct area in which to dance: shadows enclosed those in each group, indicating the outskirts of each sector.
But lights within each dividing line also symbolized the type of dance that individuals gyrated to. For example, red, blue, and green strobe lights flickered on the ceiling above those breakdancing, while circular white lights shined down on those wearing cowboy hats, jeans, and leather boots while line dancing. For those engaged in salsa dancing,
the lights were dim, whereas one bright beam splashed upon the tap dancers.
Nina, however, didn’t seem surprised to have entered this scene. She walked among the crowd, and obviously not feeling him at her side, turned back toward Nick. She lifted her head, attempting an impression of snobbish grandiosity as she raised her hand, expecting him to take it.
He enjoyed her sense of humor and took her hand. Instantly, a wave of horns and drums pounded through the speakers as Jay-Z rapped a few lines before Beyoncé started into “Crazy in Love.”
The rhythm made Nick start dancing before Nina, who joined in a second later, lighting up as though caught by surprise that Nick had proven his dancing ability. The beat thumped from the floor and into his feet, commanding that he move, until it swept up his legs and into his hips. The music became a part of him. He felt it in every muscle in his body, and it stirred his soul.
He’d never felt so free of worries and responsibilities. The only things that mattered was the music and how it made his body respond, followed by the need to do whatever it took to make sure that Nina’s smile never faltered. Nick held out a hand and wagged his finger at her as though she couldn’t keep up with him in terms of style and intensity.
She laughed and swung her body in ways that would have elicited envy from Beyoncé. An invisible force drew Nick toward her, and he had to touch her, had to place the palm of his hand on her hip, had to once more feel the connection they’d experienced just a short time ago. And when he did, the sensation he expected didn’t charge through him. Instead, a euphoric state with the intensity of an electric current rippled through his hand and shot through his veins.
All around them, other individuals danced to their own beat, either oblivious to, or in spite of, the fact that they danced to a contemporary song.
From the corner of his eye, Nick spotted a man looking at him as though consulting his memory to determine if they had once known each other. But Nick dismissed him; he enjoyed himself too much to consider anyone other than the beautiful woman beside him. Besides, even though women had complimented his ability on the dance floor, he always needed a fair amount of alcohol in his system to free his inhibitions to allow that side of him to reach the surface.
Just Like Heaven Page 7