“Are you offering me your job, Doris?”
“Let’s just say I’m considering you for the position. Are you interested?”
“I’ll think about it.” I stand up as if I can just walk out to my car and leave. “Will I be able to get out of this ridiculous dress?”
“Yes. We will find you something more business-like.” Doris stands up from her desk chair. “Let’s both take some time to think. I’ll be in touch soon, Naomi.”
We go through the motions of shaking hands, and I’m back in the food court. And so is Luke.
Chapter 18
“Nolan is with his son,” I say as soon as Naomi appears. I can’t stop thinking about what that must be like. I want to be with my son.
“I have to tell you something.” Naomi reaches her hand across the table and I take it.
“What’s up?”
“We won’t remember our lives once we’re in a new body. We’ll have the memories associated with that life, with occasional sparks of our former lives now and again.” She’s staring down at the table like she hasn’t quite processed this information herself yet.
There is a Mentor’s Handbook on the table between us. It wasn’t there before she arrived.
“What about Eben?” I ask.
She shrugs and says, “I’m sorry.”
Maybe she’s wrong. She’s not the leader here. She’s not God. She’s not even a real mentor. She’s just some dead chick in a slutty dress.
“How do you know?”
“Doris told me.”
Doris. Proof that bureaucracy never dies. Fucking Doris and her weird stretchy body and smiles.
“So, we won’t know each other.” It’s secondary to not knowing Eben, but it still matters.
Naomi shakes her head.
“The news just keeps getting shittier and shittier.” And I have no one to blame but myself. I did this. I blew my brains out. Me. No one else.
Naomi grabs the handbook and opens it. “I want to find a loophole for this ‘giving a soul to the Death Shadow’ thing.”
“One catastrophe at a time?” I ask.
“Yeah. Something like that.” She scans the table of contents. “There are two sections about the Death Shadow: Death Shadow Requirements and Death Shadow Avoidance.”
“We should probably read them both.”
Naomi looks up and says, “I’m sorry I didn’t make sure you knew about Greg. I can see why that bothered you.”
Her sincerity is both reassuring and disarming.
“It’s okay.” I don’t know how else to answer. What does it matter now anyway? It’s not like we’re going to start dating after this. We won’t even know each other.
“I want to be a better person next time around. I just hope I can remember.” She leaves a finger on the page where she was reading. “Doris said that if we really learn a lesson, it goes deeper than just memory. That’s what keeps us from killing ourselves again. Really learning our lessons.”
“Well, I can say without a doubt that I’ve learned my fucking lesson.”
Naomi smiles and bows her head to read. She seems different than the last time I saw her, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Fucking Doris. I’m trying to read the handbook and figure shit out but all I can think of is her weird offer.
I would love to pretend that she’s wrong about me. That I don’t let myself get distracted by boys. But that would totally negate my self-awareness thing I have going.
It’s just that boys are so enjoyable. Even if they’re infuriating.
If I do her job, I can pick whatever body I want. If I won’t remember Luke or Greg anyway, then what’s the point of hurrying?
“Okay,” I say. Back on point. “Death Shadow Requirements.”
Luke nods at me and I continue, reading out loud, “Due to the limited amount of vapid bodies, we must maintain the death/new body balance. The number of souls that go to the Death Shadow changes based upon the number of suicide souls in circulation.”
Luke motions for me to speed up.
“The souls that are fed to the Death Shadow are not predetermined. Each soul is given an equal chance to qualify for a new body regardless of gender.” Okay. That means God’s not sexist. I look up to say this to Luke, but he’s gone.
I miss him. It’s weird. And I know I have to stop with the nonsense. He won’t remember me, and I won’t remember him, so this is pointless.
You’d think that suicide would end the pain, but everything still seems like a punch to the crotch.
“Hey.” I look up from the book. Poor pants-less Louisa is staring at me with her black-rimmed eyes. Woman’s make-up applied by a child. Her ears have multiple piercing holes that go all the way from the lobes to the tops. “Did you date much before you died?”
“I guess.” She shrugs. “Not boys, though.” A slow grin spreads on her face. It’s the smile that comes from a memory.
I have those memories. Mine are all of boys, though. Boys who made me laugh, boys who made me cry, boys who took me fancy places, boys who made me scream with ecstasy, boys who did all four.
“I had, still have, a bit of a man-addiction.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s distracting.”
“So’s hunger but it still happens every day. Or at least it used to.” She sighs. “I miss eating.”
Her lipstick is orangey red. It’s not her color. I’m sure I didn’t wear the right color when I was her age, though. I didn’t learn about color until I tried to earn extra money by selling cosmetics when I was in college. I wanted enough money to go to Mexico for spring break, but all I got was some expensive samples and a color chart.
“How’s it going in the land of the living?” I kind of miss the idleness of grief watch, as weird as that is.
“My dad almost cried but I pulled back. I want to murder him and if he cries, I don’t think I’ll get another chance.”
It should be shocking. I know that.
“Louisa, what will that accomplish? Make him cry and then you never have to see him again.”
“No. He shouldn’t be allowed to hurt anyone else.” The determination on her face makes her look like an adult and a child at once. “What are you reading?” She leans forward to get a better look.
“The Mentor’s Handbook. Trying to figure shit out.”
“You’re learning as you go? That’s just great.” She tries to slap her hands on the table.
“We’re all learning as we go, Louisa.”
“Look and see if there’s anything about murdering living people. See if you can find out what will happen to me if I do it.” Louisa sticks her chin out.
“Pretty sure they won’t have a section about murdering the mourners.” I flip another page. The heading reads SUICIDE SOULS AND MURDER. “Oh wait. There is a section on that.”
“Duh,” she says. “I knew I couldn’t be the first one.”
I scan the page and the answer isn’t good. I have to figure out the best way to tell her. In a way that she’ll understand the implications.
Or I could not tell her. That would actually fix the biggest problem in my life, or afterlife. Whatever.
“If you could pick any body to start over with, what exactly would you want?” I ask.
It’s fun questioning Louisa. Because of our relationship, it feels like nothing is off limits. It’s almost like she’s obligated to answer because I’m a little bit in charge of her soul or something. And I guess she can’t lie to me even if she wants.
Louisa looks away, staring into the distance that isn’t there.