Instead of sampling the beer by sipping it daintily and allowing the liquid to roll over her taste buds, Imani took a couple of deep swigs.
Logan glanced at her curiously. “Hey, I thought we were pacing ourselves.”
She shrugged glumly.
“What’s the matter?” Logan asked, noticing the change in her mood and seeing the look of sadness in her eyes.
“Nothing,” she muttered.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” The finality in her tone told him to drop the subject, but he didn’t.
“If the crowds are getting to you we can leave. We can go somewhere quiet, sit down in a nice restaurant and have a real meal,” he suggested in a patient tone.
“I’m having a great time, Logan. I don’t want to leave.” She took another sip of beer. “This is really good. On a scale of one to ten, I’d give Blueberry Ale a seven,” she said, injecting false cheerfulness into her tone.
“I agree. I don’t usually like fruit beers, but this one is really robust,” Logan said.
“Do you think the company is targeting a female demographic with this brew?” Imani asked, doing her best to salvage what was left of the date by pretending to still be interested in beer. Logan was a good guy, the most promising date she’d had in a long time, and he deserved her full attention, even if she had to fake it.
“Probably. I can’t really see a bunch of burly dudes rushing out to buy Blueberry Ale for a Super Bowl party.”
Imani chuckled. “Would you keep Blueberry Ale on-hand in your fridge?”
“Sure, I’d keep it on-hand if you were a regular visitor at the crib.” He words indicated that he wanted to continue seeing her in the future, which should have put a smile on her face. Unfortunately, she didn’t know where the relationship was headed now that she was hearing voices.
She downed the remaining beer, and when she leaned over to toss the plastic cup in the trash, she caught a glimpse of her reflection on the shiny metal surface of the trash receptacle. There was also the blurry reflection of a person standing directly behind her. The person was standing close. Too close. For a moment Imani thought the person behind her was waiting to throw something in the trash. She looked over her shoulder but no one was there. Another glance at the shiny surface and the reflection was still there, and it was coming into clearer focus. A closer look revealed that it was the reflection of a young Caucasian woman with red hair.
And the woman who looked vaguely familiar.
It took only a split-second for it to register that she was looking at the image of the car crash victim that had died from her injuries.
Shocked, Imani jerked around, but there was no sign of the redhead. She whirled back around and squinted at the shiny surface of the trash can, but the image had faded.
She shot an anxious look at Logan. “Did you see someone standing behind me?”
Logan glanced at the throngs of people at the festival. “I saw lots of people walking around, but I didn’t see anyone standing behind you. Are you okay, Imani?”
“I…I don’t know,” she stammered. Craning her neck she scanned the faces in the crowd. “There was a woman—a redhead—standing right behind me. Didn’t you see her?”
“No. She probably just stopped for a second and then moved on. What’s the big deal?”
“It’s no big deal. I just thought she was someone I knew. Someone from the hospital,” Imani explained with an uneasy chuckle. She folded her arms and contemplated the situation. Logan was probably right. Someone who bore an uncanny resemblance to the dead woman had briefly stopped and her image just happened to be reflected on the shiny surface along with Imani’s.
Oddly, the face she’d seen on the metal surface wasn’t battered and bruised like the crash victim’s. The image she saw was of someone who was very much alive. There wasn’t as much as a scratch on the woman’s face, but her expression held the look of someone in distress.
And then she heard the voice in her head, again! This time it verbalized a totally different lament: I know you saw me, Imani. You can clearly see that I’m still alive. Help me, please. I don’t want to be buried tomorrow.
Imani grimaced. She was so fed up with this invasion into her mind, she felt like she was seconds away from losing it completely. It was a struggle not to go running and shrieking through the venue like a madwoman, but she managed to maintain her dignity.
The symptoms of the mental illness she had inherited from her father should have given her some kind of warning. Going crazy should have been a gradual process that occurred over a lengthy period of time. But the dreaded illness had struck her with the force and swiftness of a full-fledged case of schizophrenia.
“I’m sorry Logan, I have to go,” Imani uttered in a much more pathetic tone of voice than she had intended.
Worriedly, Logan studied her face. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing, I just don’t feel good. My, uh, my head is killing me,” she stammered.
“Okay, I’ll take you home. Do you need me to stop and pick up anything for you—Tylenol, soup, Band-Aids?” he joked. “Hell, I don’t know…you’re the nurse; what do you need?”
“Nothing. I just need to lie down.” Feeling guilty for lying to him, she glanced away, unable to meet his gaze.
Logan touched her arm. “Listen, I was having a great time, but if this was a bad date for you and you want to cut it short…” His words trailed off. “In other words, you don’t have to pretend to be sick to call it a night.”
“I’m not trying to get away from you. It was a fantastic date, Logan, and I’m so sorry—”
“No need to apologize,” Logan said, tossing the remainder of his Blueberry Ale into the trash receptacle. Placing a hand at the small of her back, he guided Imani toward the exit sign.
CHAPTER 8
The Friday night crowd at Tucker’s favorite watering hole was loud and obnoxious. In the past Mila would have had to elbow her way through the hordes of inebriated people, but in her current state she was able to wade through human bodies as easily as wading through water. The difference between penetrating walls as opposed to moving through people was the slight electrical charge that pulsed through Mila. The charge wasn’t unpleasant at all. It was like a little zing of energy and felt somewhat enjoyable.
But Mila hadn’t gone to the bar to experience electrical sensations; she was there to speak with Tucker. She found him seated at a booth in the rear of the place, sandwiched between two blonds who were doing shots and had no idea that Tucker was hanging out with them. Both blonds had big boobs and pretty faces, reminding Mila of the female fans that used to infuriate her when they disregarded her presence and openly flirted with Tucker when he was playing with his band.
Surprisingly, she didn’t feel the slightest pang of envy. Her feelings for Tucker had diminished drastically. Looking back, it seemed ridiculous that she used to get so upset and jealous when groupies threw themselves at him.
“Fancy meeting you here!” Tucker exclaimed as Mila glided toward him. His smug expression told her that he wasn’t surprised that she’d come looking for him.
“It’s not a social call,” she remarked snappishly.
“What’s on your mind?”
She glanced at the blonds and made a face. “Can we speak privately?”
“It’s not as if they can hear you,” he reminded her.
“I know, but I’d rather—” Before she could finish the sentence, she and Tucker were suddenly transported to a secluded corner of the bar. The move was so swift, Mila felt wobbly, and she clutched Tucker’s arm to steady herself. “What the hell, Tucker?” she exploded.
“My bad. Apparently I need a little more practice moving two souls at the same time,” Tucker said with laughter.
“It’s not funny. You could have warned me that we were moving before you took it upon yourself to pluck us over here.”
“You wanted privacy, and you got it.” He g
lanced across the room at the blonds. “As you can see I’m sort of busy right now. What can I do for you, Mila?”
“You’re busy? Oh, God, that’s such a joke.”
“Actually, I was in the middle of getting to know Sofia and Jude, better.”
Mila made a face. “Ew, you sound so creepy.”
“You broke up with me, so don’t get mad because I’m making the best of things and trying to enjoy my life.”
Mila sighed in exasperation. “We’re in the worst predicament of our lives and you want to spend your time gawking at women who literally don’t even know that you exist.”
Tucker smirked at her. “You’re so serious all the time. You should ease up and try to have some fun for a change.”
“I’ll think about having fun when I get my life back in order.”
“I hate to be the one to break it to you, Mila, but this is as good as it gets.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” she said, shaking her head.
“I’m afraid it’s true, but the good news is that our new way of life isn’t that terrible once you get the hang of it. The trouble with you is that you’re fighting the change instead of embracing it.”
She scoffed. “How can I embrace a life where I don’t sleep, I don’t eat, I don’t even live anywhere in particular? I just hang out at various locations, watching other people live their lives.”
Tucker stroked his chin in thought. “If you need a home base, our apartment is still available. Our things are still there, and we’re technically paid up until the end of the month.”
“Going back to the apartment won’t solve anything. It’ll probably make things worse, especially if new people move in and sense our presence. They’ll think we’re trying to haunt them, and who needs that kind of drama?”
Tucker looked insulted. “I don’t need to haunt anyone. I have better things to do with my time than to yell boo at new tenants.”
“That’s not the point, Tucker. Doesn’t it bother you that we’re considered dead, and anyone unfortunate enough to see or hear us will be scared shitless?”
“That’s their problem, not mine,” he said nonchalantly. “For me, death is a lot easier than I ever imagined. It’s actually kind of cool.”
“But we’re not dead,” Mila insisted. “We’re in some kind of limbo state—like being in a coma, and I’ve got to find a way out of this nightmare.”
“Your version of a nightmare feels like a good dream to me. I’m making lemonade out of lemons, and I’m having fun.”
“Fun? You’ve got to be kidding. This life sucks, and I’m afraid it might become permanent if we don’t do something.”
“There’s nothing we can do.”
“There has to be something we can do. Do you realize that my funeral is tomorrow? My fucking funeral! How insane is that?”
He gave a quick shrug. “And…”
“And I’ve got to do something about it. I can’t let them put me in the ground.” Mila shuddered visibly. “I’m serious, Tucker. I feel like it’ll be all over if they bury me.”
“You shouldn’t feel that way. The way I see it, the old Mila who was killed in the crash was just a physical shell. You’re much more than that now. You’re all-expansive, and you can do things that you never imagined possible.”
“You’re not making me feel any better. I don’t want to be all-expansive, whatever that means. I just want to be me—a regular person, doing regular things.” She sighed. “I’m so afraid that once I’m buried, I’ll no longer exist.”
“But you’ll always exist, Mila.”
“I don’t want to merely exist. I want a full life. You might be content with hanging around strangers who can’t see or hear you, but it’s unbearable to me. Besides being able to communicate with you, there’s only one other person that I can sort of get through to.”
“Who’s that?”
“Imani. The black chick that I told you about. You know, the nurse from the hospital.”
“Oh, yeah,” he muttered, distractedly. Craning his neck, he kept an eye on Sofia and Jude.
“The problem with Imani is that she’s terrified of me, and she won’t allow herself to fully perceive me. I just don’t know what to do, Tucker.”
“I’m pretty sure everything will change for you once you get closure.”
“How do I get closure?”
“Go to your funeral—tell your other-self goodbye. That’s what I did.”
“You’ve already had your funeral?”
“No, my stepmother couldn’t be bothered with a funeral. The heartless bitch had me cremated.”
Mila flinched. “Are you serious? Jesus, I don’t know what’s worse, being buried or being burned to a crisp.”
“I attended the memorial service, but I didn’t stay long.”
“Why not?”
“I was offended when Ace stood up to give my eulogy. What a hypocrite. Only a few days ago the dude was throwing punches at me, but he’s suddenly all teary-eyed and waxing poetic about what a great guy I was.”
“The way I recall the fight, you started it, Tucker. Ace was only defending himself.”
“Whatever,” he muttered.
“It took a lot of guts to attend you memorial service, and I commend you for it,” she said sincerely.
“Believe me, the memorial service was a lot easier than watching my other-self getting shoved into a fiery oven.”
Mila made a face. “Aw, Tucker, that sounds horrible.”
“Yeah, it was emotionally agonizing, but after the cremation process was over I felt a tremendous sense of freedom.”
Mila stared at him. “It sounds to me like you’ve just given up on living.”
“I haven’t given up, but I’ve accepted death. Do you wanna know my opinion on everything that has happened to us?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“I think we missed our ride.”
“What ride?”
“You’ve heard about dead people walking into a tunnel of white light, haven’t you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, when the light came for us, we were in denial about being dead. We were so in awe of it and so busy analyzing it, we failed to walk into it, and the light blazed through the sky without us.”
“So what’re you saying…we got left behind, and now we have to aimlessly wander the earth, for like, forever?”
“I don’t Mila. I don’t have all the answers. But what I do know is that we’re dead. We’re as dead as doorknobs, and we’re currently dwelling in what is known as the afterlife.”
“That’s bullshit,” she spat. “The afterlife is supposed to be filled with love and understanding and eternal bliss, but all I’ve experienced is fear and confusion.”
Tucker noticed two guys striking up a conversation with the blonds. “Looks like I have some completion. Can we finish this conversation at another time?”
Feeling dejected, Mila nodded solemnly.
“Cheer up, kiddo. After your funeral, you’ll start feeling much more enlightened and more in touch with yourself.”
With those parting words, Tucker vanished. In an instant he reappeared on the other side of the bar, grinning like a perverted ghoul as he ogled Sofia’s cleavage.
*****
Family and friends were gathered at the church to say goodbye to Mila Pemberton. Mila hadn’t been to her family’s church in several years and had imagined that the next time she set foot inside would be on her wedding day. But here she was, an invisible guest floating behind her parents as they made their way to the front pew.
Heather Pemberton moved slowly and awkwardly, as if each step was a tremendous chore. Thomas Pemberton linked his arm in his wife’s to steady her and keep her upright. When they finally made it to the front pew, Mila hovered over her mother, murmuring softly as she tried to comfort her. But Heather Pemberton, weeping openly, was inconsolable.
Mila gazed at her other-self, lying in a white coffin. The mortician had don
e an amazing job of patching up the wounds to her face and head. She looked lifelike and beautiful and appeared to be only sleeping. It seemed a shame that the mortician had worked so hard on something that would only be viewed for a short while. Mila began to feel claustrophobic thinking about the casket being closed shut in a few hours, carted off to the cemetery, and lowered into the ground.
Reverend Smith, the family’s minister, gave a moving eulogy and he repeated several times how much Mila’s life had mattered. As he preached about drinking and driving, Mila sensed that he was rightfully blaming Tucker for her demise. She glanced around to see who had shown up to say goodbye, and she saw lots of familiar faces. Many of those faces were stained with tears. Knowing that she would be missed gave her a weird sense of satisfaction.
Scanning the pews, Mila’s gaze landed on Jake Malloy, her old flame from high school. Jake had finished his undergrad studies and was currently attending Wharton Business School. The boyish roundness of his face was no longer evident. His face had matured and now possessed manly angles and a strong jawline. He looked handsome and debonair in his well-cut black suit, and she felt a pang of regret as she imagined how comfortable she would have been if she had stuck with Jake instead of wasting precious time with an irresponsible jerk like Tucker.
Being present at her own funeral forced her to face reality and accept that life as she knew it was over. A tear rolled down her cheek as she acknowledged that she was doomed. She was condemned to an existence as a lost soul and she would never have a chance to experience being in a fulfilling relationship, getting married, and giving birth to a child.
She began to sob, loud guttural sounds that seemed to bounce off the walls and echo inside the church. Although she cried long and hard, no one tried to console her because no one was aware of her. The attendants at her funeral directed their pity toward the dead girl in the casket, and Mila finally knew with certainty that the young woman lying in the coffin was without a scintilla of life and was nothing more than a beautified carcass that was no longer her true self.
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