“Watch where you’re going?” she said.
But I did. I always do. I could have sworn I knew exactly where I was going. At least, I thought I did. At least, I could have told you with absolute certainty that I was going to the front desk because they had my possessions. Posthaste. Don’t ask me why the front desk had all my belongings. It’s a long story.
But this woman, this-this-this enchantress, this siren, this goddess of vapor, appeared out of nowhere. Like literally nowhere. I don’t know how it was physically possible. And I’m pretty sure in order to run into me she had to have broken a few laws of physics.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Well, I was.”
“Which is why I apologized.”
Despite her good looks, she snarled. She wore an expression that’s typically reserved for comic book villains. This is not the story of how I fell in love at first sight. For one, that’s just not a thing. But also, this stranger that appeared out of nowhere and who I accidentally bumped into on my quest to retrieve my belongings from the front desk had the look of a woman that had just committed murder on her face and she wanted nothing to do with the rest of society at the moment.
“Yes, well, keep it moving. I don’t want to keep you from bowling over other helpless women.”
“I feel like you’re being a bit hyperbolic. It was an accident…”
“And what? Are you one of those desperate creeps that needs people to accept their apologies before they run along with the rest of their day?”
“No, but I certainly won’t be talked down to like this.” I know I’m being sucked into a confrontation. It’s a confrontation that I don’t want to be a part of. I have things to do, as they say. People to meet, palms to grease, and old ladies to fleece. None of which is an actual saying, but an uncle used to say that to me all the time, and it just sort of stuck around in my head.
For a brief moment, I check my pockets and realize that my wallet, phone and keys are all missing. For a brief moment that was longer than I care to admit, I forgot that I was heading to the front desk to collect them and thought that the enchantress standing before me, the one trying to goad me into a fight, might have swiped them from me. Before I can come to my senses, though, I accuse her of taking my things. I accused her of being a pickpocket.
“A pickpocket? You think I nicked your crap? What could you possibly have that I would want.”
“A car. A little bit of money—”
“All of which I have no need for.”
“Then I don’t know, maybe you took them just for the kicks. I know some people just take things that aren’t theirs for the adrenaline rush.”
“An adrenaline rush?”
“This whole process will go a lot quicker if you just confess rather than just repeat everything I say to you.”
“Well, I can assure you that I am in no need for an adrenaline rush. I would need a functioning brain and heart to feel an adrenaline rush.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m dead. I’m saying that I’m not of the living.”
“But that’s not possible.”
“And yet, here I am.”
“But I just ran into you.”
“So you admit it!”
“That was never in question. Of course I did. I apologized for it.”
“Say that you did it on purpose.”
“But I didn’t.”
“But I know that you did. Remember? I’m dead, I can read your thoughts.”
“I don’t think that’s a thing. I don’t think dead people suddenly take on the power of telekinesis.”
“Well, no, but you’re thinking of telepathy. Telekinesis is when you can move objects with your mind. But because I’m dead and thus not a physical entity on this plane of dimension, moving physical objects isn’t really something I’m concerned with doing.”
“Now you’re explaining being dead to me? Will your affronts never end!?”
“I’m sorry. I feel as if we got off on the wrong foot.”
“I’d say.”
“My name is Hubert. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The name’s Ida. I’d say the same, but I think we’ve already met.”
“We have?”
“Yes. I guess you don’t remember. I suppose people not only live differently, but they die differently too. You and I were in a car accident. A terrible car accident.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Indeed. Unfortunately, there were no survivors.”
“I suppose there weren’t. Would you…? I’m sorry if this is a bit too forward, but would you like to go get a cup of coffee?”
Hubert and Ida floated along to the nearest cafe. Neither of them said a word the remainder of the night. Hubert acquainted himself with his afterlife, but for some reason he couldn’t remember any of his life. While Ida could think of nothing else.
Fred Aiken Writing 