“It’s time for you to go, Imani,” whispered a discarnate voice that came from out of nowhere.
Seized by panic and fear, the blood drained from Imani’s face as she instinctively wheeled around. No one was behind her. At least not anyone visible. But she was positive that someone or something unseen was standing behind her. She had heard its ghostly voice and could feel its chilly presence that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She was hit with a jolt of terror that took her breath away and caused the ice cream container to slip from her hands. And the spoon followed, clattering loudly onto the floor.
“You okay?” Logan called from the bedroom, reacting to the thump and the clang of metal.
“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Imani heard herself responding to Logan, but she wasn’t the actual person talking. Someone else was speaking through her, using her exact tone, cadence, and voice inflection—pretending to be her. She was also aware of bending down and picking up the ice cream and the spoon, but something other than her was commanding her body to do so. In a dreamlike state she observed herself moving to the sink and turning on the faucet.
Something had taken control of her movement as well as her vocal chords.
As if a heavy curtain was slowly being lowered, darkness gradually descended over her mind. Desperate to remain fully alert, Imani struggled against the murky gloom that threatened to close her eyes and silence her thoughts.
She was keenly aware that her body had left the kitchen and was now moving swiftly along the hall. Excitement coursed through her veins, and she could feel delight shining in her eyes, but those emotions of eagerness and joy were not her own; they belonged to someone else.
Confused and frightened she tried to slow down her footsteps. She needed to take a moment to collect herself and figure out what was going on. But her legs refused to obey her, and kept moving swiftly along. She commanded her footsteps to come to a halt, but her feet possessed a will of their own and rushed purposefully into the bedroom where Logan was waiting.
Oh, God, what’s happening to me? Imani wondered right before the curtain came down completely, causing her world to turn pitch black.
CHAPTER 16
The crowd at the Oracle center roared as the Warriors stampeded down the court with team members skillfully passing the ball back and forth amongst each other.
“Defense! Come on, Houston. Defense!” Logan bellowed.
The Warriors scored again and Logan jumped up from the bed and groaned in frustration.
His passion for the game stoked the fire within Mila, and she was unexpectedly aroused. Unlike Imani, Mila had no interest in basketball and she was too overcome by lust to sit through the remainder of the game. She picked up the remote and pressed the power button.
“What are you doing?” Logan asked, looking incredulously from Mila to the darkened TV screen.
“That’s enough basketball for the night,” she said, pulling off Imani’s tank top and then peeling off her jeans.
Logan made a helpless sound of protest, but when she removed her bra and began to fondle her breasts provocatively, he quickly lost interest in seeing the game and focused his attention on her.
She pulled the hair tie from around her puff and shook her hair, allowing it to spill like dark rivulets over her bare shoulders. “I missed you, Logan,” she said advancing toward him.
He smiled faintly. “What do you mean you missed me? You were only in the kitchen for a few minutes.
“Those few minutes seemed like forever,” she said breathily. “Let me show you how much you were missed,” she purred, peeling off her panties.
Logan gave a low groan as he eased down on the bed.
She didn’t waste any times getting his sweats down and drawing his organ into her mouth. She took in an excited breath when she felt it swelling beneath the slow strokes of her tongue. Her fingers pressed into the flesh of his buttocks, urging him forward. She sucked until his body shook and his seed spilled into her mouth, filling it.
“Mmm,” she murmured, welcoming the salty deliciousness.
Logan collapsed onto his back, his chest heaving up and down as he breathed in gulps of air.
As she lay on the bed beside him, he squeezed her arm. “Damn, Imani, what are you trying to do to me, girl?” he rasped, trying to catch his breath.
Mila bristled at being called Imani. It was irrational of her, but she couldn’t help feeling annoyed that Logan didn’t realize she was an entirely different person. Mila was a passionate and adventurous lover, and she was much better in bed than Imani would ever be. Imani, with her absurd sense of reasoning had yet to go down on Logan because she thought it was too soon into the relationship. Foolishly, Imani thought she was going to win Logan’s heart by playing by the rules, but Mila would quickly win him over by being spontaneous and exciting in bed.
“That was a helluva surprise. What did I do to deserve it?” Logan asked, smiling dreamily as he stroked her arm.
“You didn’t do anything. You make me happy, and I just wanted to show my appreciation.”
Logan propped himself up on an elbow. “You’re full of surprises, Imani. Sometimes it feels like I’m dealing with two of you. There’s the reserved and guarded Imani who sometimes seems a little mysterious, and then there’s the open-minded Imani who unapologetically speaks her mind. I love the fact that you’re so in touch with your sexuality that you don’t mind taking the initiative in bed.”
“So, which Imani do you prefer?” Mila asked teasingly.
“I don’t have a preference. I like both aspects of your personality. I like your softer side—the Imani who blushes easily. But I also like the aggressive Imani who takes control when she’s in the mood” He cradled her chin in the space between his thumb and index finger. “I can’t deny it, baby, I like everything about you—you’re the total package.”
Logan moved closer and gathered her inside his arms. “By the way, what’s your work schedule look like for Wednesday? Dr. Lowell invited me to dinner and I asked him if it was okay to bring a plus one.”
“Uh, I have to check.” Mila had no idea about Imani’s schedule and no idea who Dr. Lowell was. She had to start paying more attention to the important people in Imani’s life if she planned on impersonating her convincingly.
“Did you tell Hope we’re seeing each other? I don’t want to shock her by showing up for dinner with her good friend on my arm,” he said.
Who the hell is Hope? Mila’s face went blank as she tried to recall who Hope was. She wanted to ask Logan what this Hope person had to do with the Dr. Lowell guy. Were they a couple? Unwilling to reveal her ignorance, she didn’t ask.
As far as she knew, Imani didn’t have any close friends—only work associates. She told herself to search through the texts on Imani’s phone and listen to voicemails to get a better idea of who the important people were in her life. Since she wanted to avoid anyone who knew her well, there wasn’t a chance in hell that she’d risk sitting through dinner with any of Imani’s friends.
While she was deep in thought, Logan began touching her. He touched her gently at first and then with more intensity. And when his mouth began a downward descent, she widened her legs, welcoming what was next. The heat from his tongue was like a cattle prod, zapping her into delicious mindlessness. Giving in to wild abandon, she put Imani out of her mind and enjoyed the exquisite feeling of Logan’s full lips suctioning on her hardened bud followed by his moist tongue that probed deeply.
Mila gave a guttural cry as she the felt the raw pinnacle of her passion coursing through her body, causing it to writhe, tremble, and shake. The pleasure was so intense she clutched the bedsheets and called out Logan’s name. In an instant he was on top of her, driving hard inside of her while covering her face and her lips with tender kisses.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and then tightened them possessively. “Don’t stop, Logan. Please don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” he
grunted. His jaw was clenched tightly and dots of perspiration covered his forehead as he repeatedly plunged into her depths.
Later as she lay entwined with him she felt a sense of security that had eluded her when she was with Tucker. While Tucker had been selfish and reckless, Logan was the complete opposite and she was ready to share her new life with him.
After a while he began to breathe evenly, informing her that he’d fallen asleep. Mila looked down at him, studying his handsome face. She touched the dimple in his chin and then kissed him softly on the lips. “I’m falling in love with you,” she whispered and kissed him again.
She was genuinely happy, and she loved the idea of having the kind of man that she could plan a future with. She’d cheated death and she wasn’t going to squander the opportunity to experience everything that life had to offer. Smiling, she breathed in deeply, cherishing the very air that she breathed in.
More than ever, she was determined to keep Imani’s body for herself. No more going back and forth with Imani and getting tossed out of her body like a bad tenant. Mila was there to stay.
She recalled the last time she’d fallen asleep next to Logan, and as enjoyable as the experience had been, she paid dearly the next morning when she awoke to Imani fighting hard to reclaim her body. Taken off guard, Mila had lost that battle, but she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
There’d be no rest for the weary. She absolutely would not fall asleep this time. She’d stay awake for as long as humanly possible. And maybe if she remained alert for a few days and kept Imani locked out for an extended period, perhaps Imani would have no choice but to give up and accept Mila’s place in the spirit world.
A part of her felt a little sorry for Imani. In her profession as a nurse Imani did good work helping others and she didn’t deserve to have her life stolen. But it wasn’t about who deserved to live and who deserved to die, it was about survival of the fittest, and Mila was determined to survive.
*****
At the crack of dawn Logan hurriedly gathered his clothes. Mila was wide awake beside him but pretended to be asleep. When she heard the jangle of his keys she slowly sat up and stretched. “Where’re you running off to?”
“Good morning, beautiful. I have a big presentation at work, and I have to get home and put on business attire.”
“You should have brought a change of clothes with you,” she said with a fake yawn.
“Yeah, I didn’t think of that. Well, look, have a great day and let me know if you can make to my godfather’s for dinner on Wednesday.”
“Okay,” she agreed, puckering her lips for a goodbye kiss.
After Logan left she gazed around the empty bedroom, taking in the décor as if for the first time. She’d previously viewed the rooms in Imani’s apartment from the perspective of a spirit, but today she was no longer a mere observer, she was there in 3D, able to touch and move things without having to stress and strain and call on every ounce of her will power. The bedroom furniture was a little bland for Mila’s taste and she made a mental note to call her mother’s interior decorator to give the entire apartment a make-over that reflected her personality.
It would have been nice to luxuriate in bed all day and watch TV, but she had somewhere to be. Because she had to drive to her destination and could no longer rely on the convenience of being transported by the power of her thoughts, Mila got out of bed and headed for the shower.
Thirty minutes later, she was driving Imani’s Ford Fiesta to Blue Bell, Pennsylvania. Compared to the Jeep Wrangler that Mila had owned, the Ford felt was small and ineffective. Her parents had most likely sold her SUV, but now that she was functioning as a whole person again, she intended to trade in Imani’s car for something bigger and sturdier.
The ride to her parents’ home was totally unpleasant. Motorists did not respect the size of the Ford Fiesta; they were rude and aggressive and continuously tried to cut her off. Making matters worse, she kept scaring the crap out of herself each time she glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the reflection of Imani’s mahogany face and tangled hair instead of the pale skin and straight red hair she was accustomed to. She wondered if she would ever get to the point where she didn’t react with surprise each time she glimpsed her new image in a mirror.
Since it was difficult for her to accept her new image, she realized it would be even harder to get her mother to accept it, but she had to try. The only way that Heather would stop hurting was if she knew that Mila was okay.
As she approached her parents’ beautiful neighborhood she felt her heart begin to race. When she turned into their tree-lined street with stately houses, she realized she hadn’t rehearsed a speech. But she told herself that the close bond between her mother and her would negate the need for a lengthy explanation on how she had ended up as black woman. It wouldn’t matter to her mother whether she was purple or green, the fact that she was alive would be all that mattered.
Mila pulled into the long driveway and was relieved that her father’s Audi was not parked in the driveway. As expected he had already left for work. After parking she inhaled deeply and walked briskly along the flower-edged stone path that led to the front door. With her finger extended toward the doorbell she let out a slow breath, hoping the tension would melt away.
Bravely, she rang the bell twice and waited for what seemed like an eternity. Finally the door was pulled partially open.
“Can I help you?” asked a familiar voice that had lost some of its vocal strength and its sweet melodious quality due to grief.
“Mother, it’s me. It’s Mila,” she blurted, anxious to bury her head in her mother’s bosom and feel her arms around her.
The door opened wider and Heather Pemberton blinked at Mila.
Mistaking the look of horror in Heather’s eyes for a loving glint of recognition, Mila thrust herself forward with outstretched arms, “Mother, oh, mother! I missed you so much!”
Heather recoiled and disgustedly swatted at Mila’s reaching fingers. “Don’t you dare touch me; I don’t know you; and I’m certainly not your mother,” she spat with her thin lips curled in revulsion.
Mila flinched as if she’d been slapped. “Mother, it’s me! I know I don’t look the same, but I can explain—”
“Is this a joke? Get out of here before I call the police! Get out, get out, get out,” Heather shouted, giving Mila a shove and causing her to stumble backward.
“Mother, stop it, please! It really is me.” Tears began to pool in Mila’s eyes. “You wouldn’t believe how crazy my life has been since the accident.”
“I said, go away!” Heather shrieked in such an ear-splitting, high-pitched volume it was a wonder that every dog in a five-mile radius didn’t come running to the Pemberton home.
Hurt beyond measure, Mila dropped her face in her hands and sobbed.
Unmoved by the pitiful scene, Heather Pemberton slammed the front door and locked it.
As if she’d been physically beaten, Mila staggered blindly down the stone path, trampling the daffodils and lilacs that bordered the path. When she reached the Ford, she flung herself inside and cried her heart out.
CHAPTER 17
Mila felt defeated. Her mother had doted on her since the day she was born, bestowing upon her material gifts as well as lavishing her with the kind of motherly love that infused Mila with an abundance of confidence and high self-esteem. Unaccustomed to being pushed away by the woman who had always been generous with her affection, Mila felt insecure and unmoored.
Back in the apartment, she paced back and forth, wiping tears from her eyes as she tried to figure out what to do next. It occurred to her to give her mother a call. Maybe Heather would be more amenable to listening to Mila’s explanation over the phone as opposed to trying to accept such a bizarre story from someone who wasn’t even the same race as her daughter.
She picked up Imani’s phone and noticed a ton of texts, missed calls, and voicemail. The texts were from Logan, Niles, and the woman named Hope
, and there were quite a few calls and voicemail from the hospital where Imani worked. Logan’s texts were reminders for her to try to get Wednesday off. Hope said that it was important that Imani give her a call. And Niles wanted to know why Imani hadn’t shown up for work.
The phone pinged in her hand with yet another text from Niles, and Mila sucked her teeth. He was Imani’s friend and not hers. Refusing to be bothered reading any more of his texts, she blocked him.
Next, she listened to the hospital’s messages. Two were from Imani’s direct supervisor, asking if she was okay, and there were three more from the Human Relations department, accusing Imani of being a no-call, no-show for work, and threatening her with a three-day suspension if they didn’t hear from her by ten a.m.
It was past ten, and Mila assumed that Imani had already been suspended, which was fine with her. Not wanting to make Logan worry, she texted him back and assured him that she had gotten approval from work to take Wednesday off.
She didn’t mention her suspension, deciding that what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
The Hope person, whom Mila wasn’t familiar with, would be wise not to hold her breath waiting for Imani to give her a call.
Accustomed to going without food or any of the other requirements of a human body, Mila didn’t realize she was hungry until a loud growl in her tummy informed her. There wasn’t much of anything in the kitchen except last night’s leftover pizza, which she helped herself to. Imani had been wrong about Logan’s pizza, the combination of pineapples and anchovies were delicious, and she ate his and Imani’s leftover slices heartily.
After polishing off the pizza, the hurt she felt over her mother’s rejection returned. The only thing that could cheer her up was being with Logan again. Realizing that neither she nor Imani had visited him at his home, she felt curious and wanted to see his place. So, she sent him a text, asking if it was okay to drop by after work.
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