Paul Kohler - The Borrowed Souls, A Novel

The Redevelopment Foundation was the one thing that Cyndi was passionate about. Jack’s income was enough for them to live comfortably without her having to take a job, and in the beginning, that was all that she wanted. To stay home and be a loving housewife. She’d enjoyed filling her days with making their home a happy one. For the first few years, that was enough. Then, once they discovered their challenges of starting a family, Cyndi quickly became bored of being Suzy Homemaker. The foundation alleviated that apathy, if only for once a week. Seeing Kevin on a weekly basis was just a perk. She forced the remains of her dream from her mind, and knew that she had some difficult decisions ahead.

After several minutes, Jack finally responded. “Oh right. The foundation. When will you be done?”

“The donation center is open until five, so I should be home around the same time as you,” Cyndi said as she sat up and stretched. She winced at the pain that shot up her spine. It had been two weeks since the shameful accident, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep the truth from Jack.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked, a look of concern crossing his face.

Seeing his expression made it that much more difficult for Cyndi to lie. She had to either come clean with Jack or stop things with Kevin, completely. “Yeah. I was hoping I didn’t need to fill the prescription again, but—”

“If it hurts, fill it. You don’t have to take them all,” Jack said, the sound of concern thick in his voice.

After several more minutes of mundane conversation, Cyndi was happy to have solitude once again, as Jack finally got out of bed and into the shower. She rolled over and tried to reenter sleep.

I removed the coin from Cyndi’s hand and leapt from her bedside. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

I looked at her, expecting to find a dispassionate countenance on her face. Instead, she wore frown lines between her eyes—almost as if she was in misery. I looked around for her medical chart in hopes of determining whether she was on any pain medication. Unfortunately, it was nowhere in sight. I suddenly remembered seeing it hanging just outside the door in the nurses’ station. Not wanting to explain my presence in the ICU ward, I opted to check the label on her bedside IV instead of going for her chart.

As I moved toward the medical contraption positioned on the opposite side of Cyndi’s bed, I heard footsteps right outside her room. The curtain was still closed, and I figured I had only seconds to get out of sight before somebody walked in. I burst toward the bathroom and latched the door behind me with only seconds to spare. Once inside the small tiled room, I discovered that it was a shared toilet with the adjacent room, and its door was wide open. Panic enveloped me as I inched toward the open door and peered into the adjoining room. My fear was quickly abated upon finding the room empty.

I moved back to Cyndi’s common door and waited, listening intently to the sounds that trickled in from her room. I could hear muffled voices, but nothing discernible. As I leaned against the closed door, my mind replayed Cyndi’s morning, clouding my thoughts. I decided that some fresh air was in order.

Hoping to get out of ICU unnoticed, I walked into the adjoining room and out into the wide open corridor. As I looked about the nurses’ station, it was clear that a shift change had taken place, as there were three new nurses milling about behind the counter. To my surprise, nobody paid me any attention. Seeing a second exit just to the right, I took my chances and walked right past the counter and through the door. Without turning to look back, I continued my march and headed for the exit stairway. Moments later, I stepped out into the morning sun. Mindlessly, I moved out into the burgeoning crowd of pedestrians and quickly fell in with the flow of foot traffic.

As I walked silently among the morning crowd, I wondered what I was going to do. I knew I had to collect Cyndi’s soul, but when was it going to come out? Did I have to experience her entire day, leading up to whatever accident had happened to her? I wasn’t sure I had it in me to experience the fornication from her point of view. Just seeing the few moments of her internal thoughts from yesterday morning was enough to make my blood boil.

As I moved through the streets of the city, the ebb and flow of the pedestrian crowd took me along the edge of City Park. Looking out across the vast acreage of green grass and flowering beds, fond memories began to surface in my mind, and I slowed my pace. I felt the people around me become agitated, so I began to make my way to the edge of the crowd.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Pardon me.” I repeated the niceties several times, without a single comment in return. I realized then that there really were some rude people in the city. Had I been one of them before, I wondered.

As I neared the edge of the crowd, I inadvertently bumped into another person.

“Forgive me,” he said as he continued walking away from me. Despite his reluctance to slow down, he at least exercised common courtesy.

Finally making it to the edge of the city herd, I sidled up to a metal rail at the edge of the park and stared out onto the massive lawn. “What the hell am I doing?” I asked.

Slowly, I looked around the park until I noticed a small footbridge a few hundred feet from where I was standing. I remembered crossing that bridge on the numerous walks that Cyndi and I used to take. Without any other reason to return to that bridge but for memory’s sake, I decided to cross it and follow the path for a while.

I stepped back into the flow of pedestrians until I reached the access point, moving through the crowd at my own pace. As I neared the break in the metal railing surrounding the park, I realized that nobody on the sidewalk was paying any attention to me whatsoever. I stopped directly in the middle of the moving crowd, and not a single person bumped into me or stepped around me. It was like I wasn’t even there, and the people somehow just avoided me entirely. That’s when I remembered something that Wilson had said while sitting on his park bench.

He’d said, “There are consequences. You would not be able to talk to anyone from your previous life again. The only conversations permitted would be with the dead or dying, much like I am speaking to you now.”

Curious, I turned to face the oncoming flow of pedestrians head on. As a particularly attractive young woman approached me directly, I screamed, “Can anyone see me?” at the top of my lungs. Not a single reaction from anyone in the crowd. I was invisible to the world around me. I began walking against the flow of the crowd, and not a single person bumped into me or stopped because of me being there. Everyone just … avoided me, almost instinctively. That’s when the sudden realization hit me: the person who had acknowledged me not five minutes earlier was the only one who could see me.

I stretched my neck above the crowd in hopes of catching a glimpse of the stranger, although I probably couldn’t have picked him out of a two-person lineup. I should have been disturbed about the entire crowd not acknowledging me, but it was the one stranger that did that really shook me up.

I rushed through the crowd to where I thought I remembered bumping into him, but he wasn’t there. Then I remembered he’d been walking in the other direction. Maybe if I ran in that direction I could find him again.

I began pushing my way back through the crowd, wishing I could talk to someone, anyone, that could help me complete my job. If Wilson could have only stuck around for a little while…

Suddenly, I vanished from the crowded sidewalk and reappeared next to Wilson’s dead body.