Missing Soul

by Dominika Waclawiak

  "My son has shown no signs of abuse. He has a nanny who I trust implicitly and has not yet been to preschool. He's been to more doctors than I can count over the last four months and any of those doctors would have reported abuse as they are required to by law. So no, in answer to your question, he has not been abused. Did you ask him whether he was? Is that the reason he's crying?"

  "No, I would never ask a child that. Children want to please adults and try to read us for the right answer. As I said, this fracturing of self is very troubling and always presents from a violent background," Dr. Amy said. Mrs. Rogers raised her hand to stop her talking.

  "I don't want to hear anymore," she said. "Our time is up anyway. Please send me the remainder of my bill to the address I provided you in the last session," she said in a clipped tone.

  "Are you terminating the sessions? We've only started." Dr. Amy hated the plea in her voice but she didn't care. "I might have gone a bit too fast today, but he showed such maturity and I made a judgment call..."

  "I'm sorry we wasted your time, Dr. Jones. This was a big mistake on my part," she said, turned on her heel and stomped out the door. Dr. Amy watched the young boy leave with his mother in disappointment. She had encountered a unicorn in the wild and she wouldn't get another chance at one again.

  "Goddammit, GODDAMMIT," she said to the empty room.

  10

  Partners

  Father Johan Luken sighed in exasperation and wondered again why he bothered. "Sara, you're being unreasonable. Do you really want a career in film? Everyone and their brother comes to Los Angeles to be a PA and you have a gift that can make a difference. I don't understand where you're coming from," he repeated. Sara turned away from him without answering.

  "Mrs. Rogers isn't offering us money, Father Luken, and I have to pay rent. I have bills."

  "You can't be making more than a hundred dollars a day at that job. And for what? Moving around furniture?" he said, not able to hide the disgust in his voice.

  "Moving furniture is simple. Furniture isn't going to haunt me. I want to be just like everyone else," she said. Actually demanded if he read her tone right.

  "You're bigger than simple," he stated.

  "What if I'm not? Who made you an expert on me? Why do you think I'm so special?" she yelled back at him.

  Johan gritted his teeth and swore to himself. "I thought you wanted to help Mrs. Rogers and Sam? What happened to change your mind?" He studied her face and saw something flicker in her eyes. She was keeping something from him.

  "What happened, Sara? Tell me."

  "Nothing. I have to go to work, or I'll be late. I need the money, Father. That's all there is to it. I'm sorry," she said. "And you really didn't need to come over. I know I'm out of the way for you," she said. He felt himself redden.

  "You never pick up the phone when I call," he said.

  "Got me there," she said with a crooked smile.

  "This is what you are meant to do, Sara."

  "So you've said. I'm not going to lie, I want to know what's going on with Sam, but it's going to have to be after work." She grabbed her backpack. "I really will be late if I don't get going," she reiterated when he stayed rooted in place.

  "Call me when you get out. Maybe I can come up with a way for you to make money at this. Other people have," he said.

  She headed for the door. "I appreciate all that you have done for me, Father Luken. Really."

  "Call me," he demanded and got a wave instead. He watched from her front stoop as she got into her old Volvo and pulled away. He didn't know why he cared about what happened to her, but he knew that it was imperative for him to get her on the right path.

  * * *

  When Sara Caine arrived at the last set, an alleyway adjoining the Venice boardwalk, her mood darkened considerably. The jerk art director, Mike, who she'd managed to stay away from during the entire show, demanded that she be on garbage duty with a Production Assistant they had just hired for the day.

  "Do you have plastic gloves for us at least?" Sara said in the nicest voice she could muster.

  "Those aren't in the budget," he said.

  "But this is Venice. The garbage here must be nuclear. I'm not picking that stuff up with my bare hands."

  "That's your job. You have to," he said with a shit eating grin. Sara itched to punch the guy in the arm.

  "I'm not touching that. I'm going to go buy gloves for me and the other PA. I'll get reimbursed for it even if I have to go complain to one of the producers here," she said.

  He laughed at her. "Go ahead. Who do you think gave me the budget, doll." He went back to his paperwork and waved his hand over his head. "Do whatever you want just as long as all that garbage goes away in two hours. I don't care how you pick it up."

  Obviously dismissed, she stomped to the craft table and the new Art PA munching on some craft service.

  "They didn't get us gloves. I'm Sara, by the way," Sara said and grabbed a bagel. Starving, she smeared cream cheese all over it and took a bite.

  "Name's Max. Do you really think it's that bad to touch the garbage?"

  "I have one word for you. Rats. And they bite," she said between mouthfuls. She watched as Max paled.

  "What kind of gloves could protect us from that?" he asked, horrified.

  "Best I can get us is rubber gloves. Hopefully they will work," she said as she scanned for any sign of Joan. She'd hoped Joan could get her out of garbage duty, but the woman was nowhere to be seen.

  "I'm going to the seven eleven a block away if anyone asks where I am," she said to Max and scowled. She had only five dollars on her and hoped it would be enough. She was not touching that garbage without protection. She waved to Max again and headed down the street.

  Seeing numerous ghosts huddling around the corners of the buildings and in the alleyways, she made sure to keep her eyes focused on the ground so they wouldn't notice her. Venice had a lot of ghosts compared to other parts of the city, she thought and fought the urge to flee. What if they recognized what she was?

  She stopped walking when she realized how callous she sounded. These ghosts had once been people who got stuck in the in between. What if she got stuck just like they did and found someone like her to make a difference and that someone refused? She was just a kid, afraid of her own shadow, she reminded herself. They needed someone much stronger than her.

  "Sorry, you don't have a stronger advocate, you poor souls," she whispered to them. Unbidden, Father Luken's face rose out of her unconscious. This was all his doing and had gotten into her head. She'd heard of few careers focusing on helping people that were profitable. Damn him for getting into her head.

  She would be a Production Designer or even a Set Decorator like Joan. Who cared if that was what everyone else in LA was doing? There was no moral ambiguity or people's souls at stake. Who wanted that kind of pressure, she thought and walked into the seven-eleven.

  She had just enough money to buy one box of rubber gloves and figured that would get both her and Max through the day. What a bunch of assholes those producers must be to not have a measly 4.50 to protect their workers. She paid for the gloves and headed back to set. Maybe talking to ghosts wouldn't seem so bad after her day of digging through garbage.

  Stop it, Sara, she said to herself. She closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air. She was going to work in film.

  * * *

  Four hours later, sweaty and dirty from things she touched that she didn't even want to think about, she threw the last bag of garbage into the dumpster at the end of the alley and high-fived Max.

  "How many rats did you end up seeing?" he quipped.

  "Four, and one that was so fat that he should really count as two," she said and laughed.

  "Yea, I heard you yelp at one point."

  "One of them was in the bag I was carrying and scratched to get out. He made a big enough hole to let him and half of the garbage out," she said and shuddered. She never wanted to do that job again.


  "Thank God you got us the gloves. Thank you," Max said.

  "No probs. Not that they helped too much. I'm filthy," she looked him over. "You are too."

  "I can only imagine," Max said and grinned. "Think wardrobe will let us sneak into one of the trailers and shower off?" he asked hopefully. Sara guffawed.

  "I think we'll have better luck with a hose. The key is to find one somewhere," she said and searched around for any signs of a water hose when she saw the director of the movie, a frat boy type of guy wearing a baseball cap and aviators, and one of the producers enter the alleyway. "Look, maybe they'll thank us for the good job we have done," she said, and Max turned around as another producer ran up to them.

  "It's always a bad sign when you see a producer run on set," Max said with a frown.

  "What? Are you serious?" Sara asked and saw Mike, the asshole Art Director, and the Production Designer, who she had yet to encounter, join the growing group. Sara couldn't hear what they were saying, but by the gesturing the director and the producers were doing towards the alleyway, it couldn't be good news for them.

  Mike the asshole detached from the group and with a red face marched over to where Sara and Max were standing.

  "This is definitely not good," Max said under his breath. Sara looked past the raging art director to see all the power heads of the production staring at her and Max.

  "What the hell did you guys do?" Mike sputtered the moment he got to them.

  "What you asked us to do, Mike. We cleaned the alleyway of all the garbage. LIKE YOU SAID," Sara raised her voice in hopes that the power group could hear her.

  "I didn't tell you to clean the whole alleyway. Just the front part," he gestured to where the small crowd had gathered.

  "NO, YOU DIDN'T MIKE. You said the WHOLE alleyway," Sara yelled back.

  "You have to put the garbage back. They need the garbage for the background," Mike said, his face turning odd shades of red and purple. Max paled and looked back at the bin full of garbage and rats.

  "That's not what you told us to do, Mike. There are rats in there. I'm not doing it," Sara said. They had already lost the power group's attention, and she watched as the director walked away with one of the associate producers tagging along behind him.

  "Just do it, Sara," Mike growled.

  "NO," Sara spat back.

  "What do you mean no?"

  "What do you think it means? It was your fuckup. You didn't give us the right instructions. We're not going to get eaten up by rats to fix your mistake," Sara said her anger full tilt. He stared at her in shock. Apparently, he hadn't had a production assistant say no to him recently. He was being such an asshole that Sara felt it her duty to protect her and Max.

  "Either you do it or you're fired." His voice came out flat and cold.

  "Better yet, I quit," she said, and stripped the nasty gloves off her hands and threw them at his face. He tried to duck out of the way but wasn't fast enough. One of the gloves caught him on the side of the mouth.

  "I wouldn't do it if I were you, Max," she said to him before she spun on her heel. She knew by the look on his face he would do what he was told, poor guy. She felt sorry for him, but it was his choice to stay. She heard Mike spit and sputter out the toxic waste that got into his mouth, and she couldn't help giggle.

  Served him right, she thought as she pulled out her cellphone. She hit the speed dial and waited for him to pick up.

  "I'm in. What time do you need me?" she said before Father Luken could utter another word.

  11

  Hypnosis

  Father Johan Luken pulled to the front of Sara's apartment building and beeped twice. She came out at once and bounded down the walk. He had been equal parts delighted and surprised to get her phone call. He believed what he told her about her being made for this type of work. She opened up the truck door and ducked her head in.

  "You're half an hour late."

  "We will be even later if you don't get in," he said and she slid into the passenger seat. "I'm glad you changed your mind. Bad day at work?"

  "I'm not meant for the film industry so I hope you've come up with a way for me to make money with this "gift" of mine," she said as she made exaggerated air quotes around the word gift.

  "I'm on it, Sara. You know me, I follow through on my promises," he said and she grinned back, the dimple in her right cheek popping out. He focused back on the road.

  "Adams still the best way to go?" he asked although he knew the answer.

  "Yup, definitely at this hour," she said and settled in for the drive. "Do you really think the hypnosis will work? I know you didn't want to tell me your theory over the phone but now that we're stuck in the car together..." she prompted.

  "I think this is a case of reincarnation."

  "Reincarnation? Like what the Buddhists believe?" she said, her mouth gaping open.

  "It's the only explanation that seems plausible to me. I did some research on it and found one anecdotal story that can be applied to our case, but it's dependent on the time of death of this Jimmy and time of birth of Sam. I'm hoping we'll find that out tonight."

  "So how does this jibe with you being a Catholic priest?" Sara asked.

  "It doesn't at all. But, I also never bought into the story that we were all born with original sin. It never sounded right to me. If this case does turn out to be reincarnation, that clears up many questions I have about what happens when we die. It blows my mind each time I think about it," he said.

  "So, um, isn't that almost a heretical thing to say for a priest?" Sara asked.

  "I might not be one for much longer," he confessed.

  "Wait, what?"

  "If this shakes out as I think it will, then I will have more reasons to rethink my faith," he said. He hadn't planned on telling anyone, but if he was going to push her into major life choices he might as well share some of his with her.

  "I'm stunned, Father Luken," Sara said, still staring at him.

  "For all the things I've seen, I don't have the same conviction I did when I went to seminary."

  "Why did you join the seminary?" She asked.

  "That's a story for another time," he said and gave her an apologetic smile.

  "Ok, wow. I don't even know what to say."

  "I didn't mean to dump that on you, but this case has really pushed me to an inevitable conclusion."

  "We already know there is life after death though. I mean, I see the ghosts of dead people. Do you know where you send them off to?" she asked.

  "I have no idea. They're just gone," he said after a few moments.

  "So what was the story?"

  He looked at her and had no idea what she was talking about.

  "The story that you came across, about reincarnation," she prompted.

  "Oh, that. The story was a mixture of wanting and luck. A soul was desperate enough to push out the soul intended for the newborn."

  "That sounds incredibly farfetched," Sara said and turned back to staring out the window.

  "It's all in the point of view. Most people think you don't see ghosts and the ones that I've told about the existence of demons think I'm totally insane. Even the Catholic Church sees me as a fringe element. We operate in the arena of the farfetched," he said and she smiled at him.

  "I guess you're right. How deep does the unknown go?" she wondered out loud.

  * * *

  Caitlyn Rogers opened the door to Father Luken and Sara Caine and gave them both a weak smile.

  "I'm so sorry about the way I treated you yesterday, Ms. Caine," she started and Ms. Caine waved her off.

  "No need to apologize. Please, call me Sara," she said and touched her arm gently. "I can't even imagine how you must be feeling right now," she added.

  Cait stepped aside and let them both in. "Have you hypnotized a child before Father Luken?" she asked as she offered them the couch. Sam was doing as he promised her and sat in the easy chair reading a book. "Would you like some tea, coffee, or water?" They both
declined, and she noticed for the first time that her hand was shaking.

  "I'm really nervous as you can maybe tell. I just want to make the right decision," she said and thought she sounded as if she was blabbering and wished she could stop talking.

  However, Father Luken's attention was on Sam and he didn't seem to notice her discomfort. "We should get started then. I think that will help with your nerves."

  She nodded and took the only other chair available in the room. Father Luken sat on the couch closest to Sam and leaned over to him.

  "Do you remember me, Sam?"

  Sam nodded.

  "Mind if I take your book for now?" Father Luken asked. Sam nodded and handed him the book.

  "Thank you, Sam," he said and turned to Cait. "Kids are super receptive to be hypnotized."

  Cait nodded.

  "Sam, I want you to lean back in the chair and make yourself as comfortable as you can," he said and paused.

  Cait's heart swelled with love as Sam looked over to her for permission. She nodded, and he scooched back into the chair and closed his eyes.

  "You don't need to close your eyes yet, Sam." Father Luken's voice had dropped several octaves and had a lulling quality to it. For the first time since she'd met the both of them, she noticed he had a very nice baritone voice and was startlingly attractive for a priest. His pitch-black hair and perpetual six o'clock shadow made him look dangerous. Like a bandit. What a strange thought that was, Cait said to herself.

  "What I'd like you to do is count from fifty backward. Do you think you could do that?"

  Sam nodded.

  "You can start now," Father Luken said and touched Sam's arm.

  "Fifty, forty-nine, forty-eight, forty-seven...forty-six, forty-five," Sam started.

  "Your eyes are growing heavier. It's hard to keep them open."

  "Forty-four, forty-three...forty-two...forty-one..."