by Penni Jones
“What’s your plan?” I ask.
Doris leans back in her chair and says, “Well. I guess I just need to keep you here for seven more hours and then I’m home free.”
“What will happen to me?”
“This is really what’s best for you, Naomi. You’ll die soon and then you’ll go back to the afterlife. You’ll most likely spend some time working, and then you can choose if you want to be recycled again or not. Honestly, dying of natural causes is the way to go. Gives you the most options.” She’s smiling at me like she has given me good news. Maybe she has. “You’ll have some of Juniper’s memories and that will be weird. But you can handle it.”
“But there’s no one there to take over your responsibilities.”
She shrugs and says, “That’s not really our problem now. We’re in a whole different place. Dimension, if you’d rather.”
“It doesn’t matter what I’d rather, does it?”
“Things could have been different for you. You made your choices.” Her smile is gone. The pissed-off Doris I remember is starting to surface.
“What will happen to Greg and Luke?”
“Luke is fine. He’ll probably stay here. I really don’t think there will be a problem with that. Unless he commits suicide again, of course. But I’m not sure about Greg. Was he still losing spots after I left?”
I nod slowly. “You know he was, or I wouldn’t be here.”
She reaches her hand across the table and places it in front of me. I can’t return the gesture. “You’ll have to let him go. You should have already done that.”
“It really doesn’t bother you, does it?”
Doris squints for a second and says, “No. Not really. I mean, I wish things had worked out better for him. But I don’t think he would have done any better with a second chance. Same for Luke. If I thought either of them had real potential, I never would have targeted them that way.”
“You’re destroying Greg,” I say quietly.
“Greg destroyed Greg long before I entered the picture.” She pauses and focuses on my face. “You have a chance, Naomi. You have so much unfulfilled potential. Why don’t you see what you have to offer?”
“Now I have nothing to offer. I’m a dying old woman.”
“Yes, but you’re really not that old. You’ve reached an age of wisdom. An age where women are more than their bodies. Use what little time you have left to capitalize on that. You can be taken seriously.”
“I’m a former televangelist. How can I be taken seriously?”
She tilts her hand and then claps her hands together. “I’ve got it! You can write a book. You’ll probably need to get a ghost writer for the sake of speed. Do a press tour. Talk about what you learned from your megachurch days and what you’ve learned since being exiled from that world. About what it’s like to be an aging reality star on a show with young attractive people. About how your faith has evolved.” Her smile returns and she says, “You might even learn something. If the cancer doesn’t kill you first.”
“Can you please untie me? You’re at least forty years younger than me and one hundred times fitter. It’s not like I can do anything.” I squirm in the seat. My back is cramping up and I’m losing circulation in my hands.
“I guess so. But please don’t try anything. As always, I’m looking out for your best interests. I can help you if you let me.”
Doris stands up and goes around to the back of my chair. I can feel the restraints releasing. I’m rubbing my sore wrists when someone bangs on the door. It has to be Luke, right?
* * *
Luke
I don’t know when we got under the yellow quilted bedspread. With this body, I would have been okay with staying exposed. Especially since that meant I could see all of Rochelle. But this is fine, too.
Rochelle’s breath is warm against my chest. I’m running on hand through her long soft hair.
“When do you have to go back?” she asks. Her anger has dissipated. I have a feeling I could easily make it return. But the exact dynamics are unclear.
“Soon.” I kiss the top of her head and say, “I’m sorry.”
She sits up and pulls the sheet up to cover her boobs. I wish she hadn’t done that.
“It’s okay. I know you need this job.”
I push myself up and lean against the headboard. I really don’t know what to do. If I leave with Naomi, Andy will go back to being a shitty person and Rochelle will be alone to care for the baby. I don’t know why I can’t let that go. Andy’s memories of her have barely started to form in my mind. But something tells me I can’t abandon her. That it would be a huge mistake.
“I’ll do what I can to stay in touch. Okay? It’s not much longer.” I put my arm around her and pull her against me.
“How do I know I can trust you? You don’t have a great track record.”
“I guess you don’t know. You’ll just have to try to trust me and I’ll have to prove myself to you.” I kiss her cheek and lean back again. I have to figure this out.
“I got the job on Our Weeks of Days,” she says with a triumphant smile.
“That’s great! I can’t believe that show is still on. But I guess if there’s one thing we can count on it’s soap operas.”
“You don’t have to be an asshole.”
My face contorts as I try to figure out my misstep. It’s weird getting used to a new face and a new world at the same time.
“It’s one of the last daytime soaps. But it will get me some exposure.” She’s talking faster now. Getting excited. It’s beautiful. But did she say it’s one of the last soaps? “I thought being pregnant would keep me from getting work, but they need a pregnant teenager.”
Teenager, teenager, fuck. My heart starts pounding and sweat forms on my upper lip.
“It’s just a good thing I look so young,” she says, and my heart resumes its normal rhythm.
I really want to ask how old she is, but it’s something Andy should know and I almost blew it by asking her address.
“We’ll celebrate when I get back from Connecticut. I guess we can’t go out for champagne but we’ll do something just as fun.” I rub her belly for context, waiting for her to say something about the legalities of drinking.
“How about a show? Let’s dress up and go to Broadway,” she says. I knew it was a long shot. “We can go out for sushi after.” She pauses and continues, “Oh shit, not sushi. Well, at least not the raw stuff.”
Raw sushi? I’ve never eaten that. I’m going to have to learn how to be someone completely different. But a better different than Andy. I can do that. I’m sure of it.
She has to be at least eighteen to live alone in this apartment, right? But she was a child star. She might have enough money and lenient parents. What’s the age of consent in New York? This is all so weird. But even if she’s young, that doesn’t mean she deserves to be abandoned with a baby.
“Do you remember when we went to the Hamptons last summer?” she asks.
No. Of course I don’t. If I stay here will I eventually gain Andy’s memories, right? Or if I don’t, maybe I can fake a head injury. I think I saw that once on Our Weeks of Days.
“Uh huh,” I sigh. That’s not quite the same as lying, right?
“That was the most perfect week of my life. We had just finished Sam Jacquard’s class. I know we’d only been dating about two weeks, but everything felt perfect.”
Sam Jacquard was on one of those primetime cop shows when I was a kid. So, we met in an acting class? Maybe if I just pay attention, I can piece this life together until I remember everything. But will I remember Andy’s life? If I can even stay. What if they make me go back? Can they make me go back? They probably can. But I have to try.
“It was perfect,” I say.
Rochelle pulls away and turns to face me. “Look, Andy, I know we’re both too young for this. I know the timing is shit. But this baby is coming whether we’re ready or not. I can forgive you freaking out and taking of
f. I don’t blame you considering the way our last conversation went. Hell, I would have probably done the same if it had been an option for me. But if you do it again, you can’t come back. I won’t let you jerk me, jerk us, around like that.”
She means every word she says. Andy is on his last chance. I am on my last chance. A face pops into my mind. A little boy. Eben. And then he’s gone again. Who was that? I’m left with a feeling of responsibility. The feeling that I want to do to the right thing. That I must do the right thing.
“I won’t let you down again, Rochelle. We’re in this together.” I lean forward and kiss her lightly on the lips. “I have to get back to work before I’m in breach of contract. We’ll need the money from this job.”
I want to discuss living arrangements for after my return, but I don’t know where I live. That’s not exactly something I can say to someone counting on me for a future.
I stand up and gather my clothes. Before I return to the set I have to talk to Naomi. I have to make her understand. If she’s still pissed, that’s fine. But I have to try while I still remember her.
Chapter 34
Naomi
“Let me in, Doris. I know you’re in there.” Definitely not Luke. It’s a young woman. My first thought is a jilted lover. But she said Doris, not Dylan.
Doris looks at the door, then me, then back to the door.
“Who is it?” I ask, still rubbing my wrists. I’m tempted to scream for help, but it doesn’t seem like the right thing to do. For one thing it’s not dignified, and Juniper is more dignified than I am.
“I’m not sure, but I have an idea,” she says through gritted teeth. Whoever it is has the potential to ruin her plan.
She stands there while the banging starts again. She doesn’t want to answer, but she wants the banging to stop. There’s inevitability in her movement as she goes to the door. She looks through the peephole and sneers. It’s almost a smile, but there’s too much disdain involved.
“Dammit,” she says and turns the doorknob.
A girl bursts through the door. She’s tan and has blonde hair. She’s wearing a tight sundress. It’s Bree from the train. That body was an option, yet I landed in Juniper Haskell. The afterlife is so fucked up.
“You’re in violation, Doris. Come back and fix what you’ve done.” Her voice carries no authority, maybe because her tits are half out.
Is that what I looked like when I was alive? All boobs and no gravitas? I don’t think so. It probably helped that I kept my hair in a short bob. More business-like. And I didn’t wear tight skimpy dresses. Until the night I decided to sleep with the metaphorical fishes, obviously.
“Why would I do that, Ernesto? I’m perfectly happy here.”
“Because you didn’t do things the correct way. You shouldn’t have taken from those boys to maintain your memories and you damn-well know it.” Ernesto as Bree steps forward and closes the door. He sees me on the chair, still immobile even though I’m not longer restrained. “Hello, Naomi.”
“Ernesto. You’re looking well.”
“I wish I could say the same,” he says.
“Yeah, seriously. What the fuck? Every one of you turned out super-hot, and I got this body. I don’t see how that’s fair.” I cross my saggy arms over my saggy tits and pout.
“Not the time, Naomi,” Doris says.
“Then when is it the time? I really don’t understand what has happened.”
“You’ll get to choose when you come back next time. For now, we must stay on task. You’re running out of time,” Ernesto says.
The doorknob turns and a beautiful Black man walks in. My stomach tingles and my brain sends dirty messages to my crotch as I look him over. He’s tall with lean muscles, almond-shaped eyes and a tight fade haircut. Broad shoulders and flawless skin. If I was in almost any other body right now, I’d give him the shagging of his life.
“Tony?” Doris asks.
Oh shit. Never mind.
“I’m not letting her get away.” He points to me.
Ernesto turns to him and says, “Your need for vengeance is going to be your undoing, man. Let it go.”
“Wait. No.” I stand up slowly. My knees lock up for a second but then begin to move. “He can do what he wants to me.” Suicide by revenge-murder. That works, right? “Get it out, Tony. This is the perfect time. Just try not to make it too painful, please. My body already hurts all over.”
Tony’s jaw clenches and he says, “Okay. How about an overdose?”
“Want to go in the bedroom and knock one out first?” I’m sure he’ll say no, but it’s worth a shot.
He tilts his head and says, “No, thank you.”
I scan the floor and see Juniper’s purse. I dump it out on the table and several prescription bottles fall out.
“Wait,” I say. “Tony, you’ll get your chance to kill me. But first we have to save Luke and Greg.”
“Luke’s going to be fine. He’s young and attractive and has a job. There’s no way he’ll be returning with you,” Doris says. “That only leaves Greg and really he would have squandered his next chance anyway. He was way too self-involved to see the consequences of his actions.”
“That’s not your call to make,” Ernesto says.
“But it is. That was my job for a very long time. I’ve seen souls like Greg hundreds of times. They show up with no awareness of how they affect others. Even after grief watch. Even after Naomi killed herself, too. Sure, he was a little sad, but he didn’t really blame himself. I’d bet he felt like a goddamn rock star during grief watch. All of those people, mostly pretty girls, crying for him. Fuck Greg.”
“Okay, but what about Luke? You know some concessions have to made if he stays here,” Ernesto says.
“What type of concessions?” I ask.
“It’s about the balance. Always about the balance,” Doris says with a sigh. “You know, when I first started organizing the souls I loved the balance system. It was so sensible and orderly. But it eventually started to drive me nuts. Too many damned rules.”
“I thought you liked rules, Doris,” I move to the couch and sit back, melting into the cushions. I don’t feel right. I don’t know if it’s because I’m ill, or from Doris’ drugs, or sitting still so long, or all three.
“I like order. But I also like being able to make executive decisions without all of the constraints of the need for constant balance. Trying to maintain balance all the time is impossible. I drove myself mad with trying.” She holds her arms up and says, “But it doesn’t goddamn matter. I’m not going back. You can figure it out, Ernesto. Give them Louisa. We all know that girl doesn’t have a chance.”
The edges of my vision start to go blurry and gray. My head bobs from side to side. It’s too heavy for my neck.
“Naomi!” I hear Ernesto say in Bree’s shrill voice. It’s kind of funny, but I can’t seem to laugh.
“What’s wrong with her?” Tony asks, though he makes no move to help me.
“She’s dying. That body is in worse shape than I thought,” Doris says.
A modicum of clarity returns to my vision, but I still feel like I can’t really move.
“She can’t die of natural causes. You know that. This isn’t what is supposed to happen to her,” Ernesto says.
“Why not?” I ask. It comes out in a mumbled slur. “Doris s—said it would be okay.”
Ernesto looks at me through Bree’s too-pretty face. “She doesn’t know that for sure. This is an unreliable path.”
This revelation gives me enough of an adrenaline surge to sit up. It’s a start. “Edgar said we couldn’t lie in the afterlife.”
Ernesto sits down and takes my hand. His nails are painted neon orange. “First, we’re not in the afterlife right now. Second, losing the ability to lie was one of your specific regulations.”
“Well, that’s bullshit. Why didn’t Edgar tell me?”
He smiles softly and says, “You had so much to learn, Naomi. Not lying was a gift for y
ou. Something to help you out. We didn’t tell you that it didn’t apply to everyone because we don’t typically discuss the terms of other’s paths. Each soul in Suicide Soul Station is a true individual.”
“Even with your breasts showing you sound like a damn hippy,” Doris says to Ernesto. She’s not wrong.
“She told me I had to send you to save the others, Tony. I never would have done that on my own. She also said that you killed your wife before you killed yourself. I didn’t know why you did it until it was too late.” I don’t know why I tell him all that. I don’t necessarily want him to hurt Doris, but I don’t really mind if he does. Is my enlightenment fucked? I try to push myself into standing but I can’t.
“What the hell, Doris?” Tony asks.
Why are they all so attractive? It’s like I’m watching an HBO sitcom and everyone is about to get naked.
“As if you don’t know,” she says and crosses her arms over her chest. She just needs that big-bow blouse and she would look just like her old self with that expression.
Thoughtfulness and then resignation cross his high cheek-boned face. “Because I was thinking about taking over Dylan Pine.”
“Bingo,” she says.
“But there are plenty of attractive vapid bodies walking around at any second,” Ernesto says.
“Plenty? Seriously, how the fuck did I end up as Juniper Haskell? Was this supposed to be a joke?” My outburst drains the little bit of energy I had built up. I slump toward Ernesto, bumping right into a D-cup. I put my hand on it and squeeze. It’s fake and very firm. He leans toward me and gently pushes me upright.
“It’s a loaner body. Not the permanent one. But you have to kill yourself again. Right now,” Ernesto says.
“What about Doris?” I whisper.
“Tony and I will deal with her. If you die of natural causes right now, we won’t be in a position to help you,” he says.
“What if they’re the ones lying, Naomi? You might be making a big mistake,” Doris says. “Tony hates you. He hates me, too. Ernesto could be backing the wrong horse.”