by Laura Lanni
An old guy with thinning hair is sprawled on a couch. The TV is tuned to a football game. The sounds of the game are familiar to me, but the sports announcers are foreign, and the commercials are insane. One is about something called Viagra, whatever that is. Large text over a miserable guy’s head says “Erectile dysfunction?” What the hell! On TV? Are they kidding? The next commercial is about something called identity theft. A small Asian dental assistant is talking, but her voice is coming out like a male country bumpkin’s. This is the oddest programming I have ever seen.
There is something very wrong with the dude on the couch. He isn’t even watching the game when the crowd goes wild in the last thirty seconds and the wide receiver pulls a Hail Mary catch out of thin air to tie the game. I want to smack him awake to make him watch.
A voice from the kitchen calls out, “Eddie, will you eat a sandwich?”
He doesn’t answer. A woman walks in with a glass of water. She tells him to sit up and makes him take two pills. He is complacent. Looks a little in shock.
The chick sits next to him on the couch. She looks at the TV but doesn’t seem to see it either. Then she says to him, “Eddie, you have to snap out of this. Joey needs you here with him. He’s still hiding under the bed. We might see him soon, when he runs out of snacks. He needs you a lot. I can’t stay here forever. You have to start being a dad again.”
I take a closer look at this Eddie guy. He has graying, thinning black hair. It curls by his ears. My black hair always curls when I let it grow out. He wears a wedding ring. I am definitely not married. The lady doesn’t have on a ring, so maybe she isn’t Mrs. Eddie. This is puzzling.
When he finally speaks, I am shocked to hear my voice come out of his mouth.
“I’m still not hungry, Michelle. Thanks, though. It’s good that you’re here. Anna would have wanted that.”
Eddie is me. I will be Eddie. Nobody calls me Eddie now. I haven’t been Eddie since I was about six or seven. I am Ed and only Ed. But it appears, somewhere in my future that I will still watch football and I will live in a house with a lady who I’m not married to, a girl my age, and a little kid who eats cookies under his bed. It also appears that I won’t give a crap about any of them. I’ll just lie around like a slug and not even pay attention to football games on the tube. And who the heck is Anna? If this is my future, maybe I should stay dead.
“No. You should go back!” Lizzie’s whiny voice comes out of nowhere.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I can be anywhere I want. I’m your guide, you know, so I can be with you whether you want me here or not.”
“Great.” I stare at the horrible domestic scene before me and demand, “If you’re going to invade my space, at least help me understand what I’m seeing here.”
“I don’t have to.”
She is so annoying. “Then what good are you as a guide?”
“I’m a fantastic guide. I don’t mean I don’t have to like I refuse to, I mean I don’t have to because you don’t need me to. You can figure it out by yourself.”
“Oh. Well, how about you listen to me talk about what I see and let me know if I get stuff wrong? Can you at least do that for me—be my bumper pad again?”
“If it’ll help you move this agonizing process along, I will. You know, I’m in great demand. The universe has a lot of work lined up for me. We didn’t anticipate you taking all my energy for so long.”
When I don’t answer she says, “Let’s get on with it already. Talk, talk, talk!”
“First of all, how is it possible to see my future life when I haven’t decided to return?”
“That’s easy. Until you decide to go back—and you will very soon, Ed Wixim—when you watch the future, you can see it at least two ways: sometimes with you in it and sometimes without you there. You can even see the same scenes lived out with someone else in your place. In your case, now, your future scenes are clear and strong. You will go back. You know that you are just stalling here, right?”
“Sure. Yeah. I guess so. But if I was wavering, like fifty-fifty, on the fence about the choice, how would the scenes look?”
“More confused. Jagged. Quite like nightmares, so I’ve heard, but I haven’t personal experience from that perspective because there was no future for me. I’ve just heard of it from other guides. My death had no return gate, and, as a Rebound guide, I most often deal with rapid returners. Ed, you are one bullheaded enigma.”
“As are you, Lizzie. But help me puzzle this all out.”
I start describing what I’ve seen. “There’s a kid upstairs under the bed. He must be the son of this loser Eddie guy who won’t vacate the couch or eat or even watch football correctly. If Eddie is me, then Joey’s my kid, right?”
“Of course. Go on.”
“I haven’t figured out the Michelle chick, but she’s nice to Eddie even though he’s a loser. Does she love him? Do they live together?”
“Yes to the first, and no to the second question.”
“Okay, whatever. And who’s the girl upstairs?”
“Here they come. How about shutting up for ten seconds and listening. I bet they virtually spell out who they are.”
That Lizzie. She’s probably right, but I still want to pop her one on the head.
“Dad,” says the girl, “I tried to get Joey to come out. I give up. Will you take a turn? I really need a shower. And Aunt Michelle started packing. I think she’s going to leave soon.” Boy, did the girl ever need a shower. Her long, greasy hair was a mess, and her crumpled clothes looked like she’d slept in them.
“Sure, Bethany. I’ll go up in a minute.” Eddie remains a lump on the couch. Bethany refills her coffee and takes it with her to the shower.
I say to Lizzie, “I got a lot out of that one. Michelle is my sister, and Bethany is my daughter. So I have two kids. Who’s the wife? I got married? Me? I don’t even have time to date.”
“Okay, smart guy. You got most of that right. Do you remember having a sister Michelle?”
“No.” I think about it. “Is she my wife’s sister?”
“Bingo. What else do you need to figure out?”
“Well, I want to see my future wife. Where is she? What’s her name? Is she the Anna person that Michelle was talking about?”
“Maybe. Watch some more, and you’ll piece it together.”
I decide not to watch my daughter Bethany take her shower, and figure spending time under Joey’s bed while he slept would probably not be enlightening. I resign myself to hanging with my older self. Old Man Eddie. That guy’s a thrill a minute.
“Can’t we fast-forward this a bit?” I ask Lizzie when I get bored stiff with the Eddie dude.
“Fast-forward, rewind, pause, stop, play? We’ve got it all. Do what you will, this is your show.” She sounds impatient but indulgent. Maybe figuring out the mystery of my future home life would help me decide to live. Not likely; it looked pretty damn bleak so far.
“I’m gonna fast-forward. Can I do it by the hour?”
“However you like. Just think it and I’ll get you there,” she says.
I think ahead one hour. Eddie is asleep on the couch.
Two hours. He’s watching the news.
Another hour. He’s still parked, and it’s getting dark outside. After a few more hours, the house is dark and silent, and Eddie is missing from the couch.
“Where is he?” I ask Lizzie.
She groans. “Find him yourself.”
I search room by room and find him in a bedroom, pawing through a chest of drawers. Women’s underwear. The man is odd, and he is crying.
“How about rewind a day or so?” I suggest.
Lizzie grunts assent.
I see Eddie in a car driving alone. It is early evening. He pulls off the road into a school parking lot and gets out of the car. He walks to the door as though to a firing squad. What is wrong with this guy?
The school is dark except for one light by the entrance.
A woman is standing just inside the door with a little boy. It’s that Joey kid from under the bed. He has on his coat and backpack, and he’s making a mess of the window by drawing on fog clouds that he blows on the glass door. There’s a light haze of sweat forming on his forehead. Eddie walks quickly to Joey as the lady pushes him out the door.
Eddie lifts Joey up, apologizes to the lady, and carries him away to the car.
While old Eddie wrestles with the kid’s seatbelt, Joey asks, “Where’s Mommy?”
Eddie is crying when he says, “Mommy died.”
The mother died? He’s telling the kid in the car?
“Can we go see her? Is she coming home?” the poor kid asks.
Then Eddie blatantly lies to his son. “When somebody dies, they don’t come home anymore.”
Joey’s mommy. That would be Eddie’s wife. That would be my wife! I’m going to have a wife, and she’s going to die?
Lizzie’s voice, “Come on, you schmuck. It’s not so surprising that you’ll end up married. Most people do it.”
“But, Lizzie, she’s going to die. Look what it does to Eddie! I mean to me! I’m a mess!”
“No kidding.” This is my guide’s idea of support.
I look back and hear Joey ask, “Did she die like Grammy?”
“Yes, Joe. She’s with Grammy now.” Eddie loses it. He’s sobbing while he drives.
“Lizzie! My wife is with Grammy? Is that her mom? And she’s with her now?”
“Her guide is most likely a close relative who died before her. But I can’t answer whether she’s with her ‘now’ because time is a pretty loose term here on the dead side.”
“‘Time is a pretty loose term here on the dead side.’ Did you really just say that?”
“Yeah. Relax, you’ll get used to it.”
I focus back on the car and the little kid in the back seat. “Is it possible his mom will come back?”
“I guess she could if she explores enough to find out that she has the option.”
“You don’t tell everyone that they can go back?”
“Not everyone can,” Lizzie explains. “I couldn’t, and I would’ve in an instant. You can, and you’re hanging around here stalling. It all depends on the individual situation.”
This is too awful to watch, so I zip us away without any notion of where I’m going. We end up in deep space light years away from my home planet. Much better. Very serene.
“What now?” Lizzie demands.
“How about some peace? Can’t I be alone to think?”
“Peace be with you. Alone is dangerous, though. You’re not good at determining a path yet. I had to help you get to your future. How did we get here?”
“I have no idea,” I admit. “Okay, forget the peace. Tell me how the kid’s mom died.”
“Nope.”
“Thanks a lot. I can find out, though, can’t I?”
“Yeah, Einstein. But you have to figure out how by yourself.”
She is pissing me off. Too bad I can’t pull her hair and make her cry or something.
Instead, I say, “I’ll travel back a couple days or weeks from when I just saw them all and watch what’s going on. That should help me piece it together.”
Her reply: “Lead on.” Great, she’s coming with me again.
46
Chasing Anna
There’s that old loser Eddie.
He takes a small roundish thing from his pocket and opens it like a little book. It has hinges and lights up when he pushes the buttons. He’s at a hospital. He doesn’t look sick though. Oh, right, he’s wearing a white coat, not a hospital gown. Well, then, that’s cool: seems like he’s a doctor. He puts the odd device to his ear like it’s a telephone.
Old Eddie says, “Mrs. Wixim?”
It is a telephone!
I wonder if he’s calling my mom or his wife, but I can’t fathom why he would address either of them as Mrs. Wixim.
He speaks into the phone again. “Mrs. Wixim, you are the lucky winner of a free in-home pest inspection.” A pause. The geek grins. “Our highly trained bug engineers will come to your home and look for black and brown and green insects. How about that?”
He listens for a minute and then pulls the phone away from his ear, still smiling.
“Mrs. Wixim? Hello? Are you there?”
He holds the phone away from his ear again, and I can hear a scream come out of it.
He snaps the little device closed and stands there and laughs for five minutes. I get quite strange in my old age.
| | | |
So Eddie is a doctor of some kind, and he makes prank calls to his wife or mother whom he addresses as Mrs. Wixim. “Lizzie! Do you find any of this odd in any way?”
“In any way? Dude, it is odd in every way. Nobody can take little glimpses of someone else’s life, or even their own future life, and fully comprehend it. Life is made up of all kinds of isolated moments and intertwined experiences. I can tell you that you are very happy, most of the time, with your wife and family. Had enough? Ready to pop back into that twenty-year-old stud body?”
“I don’t recall ownership of anything resembling a stud body, and I’m not even close to ready. I need to at least try to understand this old man Eddie. He seems so different from me.”
“Whatever.” She gives up and is silent again. I’m sure she’ll have something snide to say at our next stop.
| | | |
Here’s old Eddie walking with the Joey kid. They’re both wearing strange costumes. It’s twilight. Joey is carrying a heavy bag; he’s running from door to door and begging for candy.
“You got any chocolate?” I hear him say at one door.
“How about some extra for my dad?” he asks at the next house.
Joey runs back to Eddie. “Dad, can you carry some of this candy? The bag is too heavy for me!” Eddie helps him dump most of it into a trash bag he has slung around his shoulders.
Eddie says, “How about a few more houses and then we’ll head back home?”
“Aw, Daddy, come on, it isn’t even bedtime yet.” At least the kid is spunky.
“Okay, then, how about six more houses?” says old Eddie, the pushover.
“Twenty?” counters Joey, the shyster.
“Ten.”
“Fifteen?”
“Twelve.” Eddie really drew the line there.
“Deal!” Joey gives old Eddie a high five and then charges off to the next house, thrilled he negotiated for double the original candy offer. He commences a countdown, and when folks open the door he yells, “Trick or Treat! Eleven more! Got any chocolate?”
They return home and dump the huge bag of candy out on the kitchen floor. Joey proceeds to roll around in it, but a lady scoops him up. “All right, Frodo-number-one, pick one piece and then off to bed. School tomorrow.”
“Aw, Mom, I’m not tired. I got all this candy, and I’ll even share it with ya if I can have more than one piece.” He tries to bargain with this woman, his mother. That makes her my wife. I need to pay closer attention.
She isn’t too hard on the eyes for an old chick. Not someone I’d look twice at now, but, hey, I’m twenty. She’s old—got to be in her forties. I noticed that she didn’t give Eddie anything when he came home. No hug, no hello. She didn’t even glance at him. Don’t they like each other at all? This is horrible. Joey starts whining and arguing with his mom.
“Just one, Joey. Don’t argue with me, or one becomes zero. Got that?”
Joey snatches up a peanut butter cup and runs off to his room.
Eddie attempts conversation. “Lots of chocolate, Anna. See?”
“Yeah. Great. Not a Smartie in the pile.” She’s on her knees sorting through the candy.
“Joey won’t miss it if you have some,” he suggests awkwardly.
She doesn’t look at him. She just barks at him. “I’m bringing it all to school. My students will eat it.”
“You’ve been running so much. You shouldn’t worry about a
little chocolate.”
“Don’t be mean to me, Eddie. I am not fat.”
Did he call her fat? Was he mean? Wasn’t he just offering candy? Old Eddie and I, both, don’t understand his wife.
The old guy walks out of the room, dejected and clearly dismissed by our wife. The man is pathetic. This future wife of mine ignores me and fights with my son. Future me is a pushover and a loser. How did I get so lucky?
| | | |
“Lizzie! I’m done watching them. You really expect me to go back for that? My future family life is a mess.” I am disturbed by what I would become. “Am I ever happy?”
Lizzie manages to sound like my therapist when she answers, “Ed, you made choices in your life that made you content. Happiness is a fleeting emotion. We know we are happy when we are laughing or hugging someone. Most other times of the day the living spend negative energy on things like road rage and petty arguments. You’ll have a good life with Anna. You will love your family. You just keep picking snapshots of that life that don’t portray it accurately.”
I’m stumped. “Can you pick a good day for me to see?” I need to see something positive.
“I’ll try.”
| | | |
Here is Anna in line at a bookstore. She’s holding a pile of books. When it’s her turn, the guy at the register says, “May I see your discount card?”
Anna says, “I forgot to bring it.”
He says, “What’s your last name?”
“Muckenfuss.” Muckenfuss? Does this crazy woman not know her own name?
“Hmm ...” He types it into his computer. Cool computer. At least in the future I might enjoy the technology even if I can’t relate to the people.
While he’s nose deep in his computer, Anna says, “Never mind. It’s probably under my daughter’s name.”
She starts digging in her purse like a squirrel for a nut and doesn’t seem to hear him when he asks, “Emily? Is it Emily?” She ignores him so he raises his voice, “Ma’am, is your daughter Emily?”
I thought the daughter’s name was Bethany. Is there another one?
“Yeah, no, it’s a bit confusing,” Lizzie says. “Just watch, and maybe you’ll figure it out.”