Paul Kohler - The Borrowed Souls, A Novel

I pulled the rosary beads from my shirt pocket and held them in my hand as I kneeled in the first pew. I bowed my head and attempted to pray. My only problem: I had no idea how to pray.

The last time I had been to church was with my grandmother when I was six or seven. Although my father was Catholic, my mother was something completely different. I honestly cannot remember what her religious preference was. All I could remember was her constant disagreement with my grandmother about how I should be raised. I think my mother kept me out of church just to spite my grandmother. Thinking back to their bitter feud that lasted until death, I think it worked.

I closed my eyes and tried to think of the words to say. Nothing remotely religious come to mind. I shook my head.

“Well, Wilson. I think I’ve done it. I’ve collected her soul,” I said as I opened my eyes and focused on the crucifix directly in front of me.

“I have to say, this is all pretty eye-opening. I only wish I could have met you before I took all those pills. I wish I would’ve known what I was throwing away,” I said as I absentmindedly rubbed the beads between my fingers.

“Wilson, I don’t know the right words to say, but I’d like to pray for you and your soul. I wish you a pleasant afterlife, if that’s what you call it.”

Despite my best intentions, I could not stop thinking about Cyndi. Seeing her fall so horrifically made my own soul ache. She didn’t deserve to suffer such pain and agony.

“And if it isn’t too much trouble, could you look out for my wife’s soul coming your way? Despite her indiscretions, I think—no, I know—she has a good soul and deserves only the best. Please, Wilson, do what you can to ease her pain.”

Leaning forward off my haunches, I sat on the wooden bench and continued to stare at the crucifix. As I slipped Wilson’s rosary beads back into my pocket, I pulled out the new box that replaced Cyndi’s. With my mind in such a haze, I only fumbled with the box, not focusing on the name for the next soul.

“So who’s the next victim?” came a voice from behind me.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned to see a man. The very man that had bumped into me earlier. “You. You can talk to me?”

“That I can. And you can talk to me. It’s funny how conversation work,” he said as he moved into my row.

“But, I tried to find you after you—”

“I know. I wasn’t expecting you to bump into me. I was only supposed to observe your first official collection,” he said as he looked around the church.

“So you know what I am?” I asked.

“Of course. I’m one as well. Hell, I trained most of the collectors in the last century.”

I scratched my temple. “But you don’t look that old.”

“Thanks! I need to hear that every fifty years or so. I’m Hauser.”

“Hauser? Wilson mentioned you.”

“Did he? I hope it was all good things,” Hauser said, smiling.

“He said that you were wise well beyond your years, or something to that effect.”

“Well, I’m not sure about that,” Hauser said, blushing modestly.

We sat in silence for a few moments. Hauser continued to look around the church while I was trying to calm my mind. I had a million questions but didn’t want to blurt them all out at once.

“Did you find this place all on your own?” asked Hauser.

“Well, I… sort of felt like it would do after what I just went through. I needed someplace to say a few words.”

Hauser nodded as he turned to look at me. “I think it’s peculiar that you chose this church over all the other churches in the city.”

I shrugged. “It’s not that out of the ordinary. I popped onto the sidewalk just across the street. I just happened to notice it sitting here is all. What makes that peculiar?”

“The Church of Heavenly Rest has a history, you know.”

“I’m sure it does. It’s just another church to me,” I said, trying not to sound too insensitive.

“Oh, it’s not just an ordinary church. Cyndi never mentioned it to you?”

An explosion of knowledge burst inside my head. “Right. The Redevelopment Foundation. That’s here?”

Hauser nodded. “Yep. It’s out back.”

“I had no idea. Cyndi would talk about this place a lot, but I’ve never been here.”

“The aberrant nature of this location doesn’t stop there either,” Hauser smiled.

“How so?”

“You see, Cyndi was also baptized here. Many years before the two of you met. You sure she never mentioned this place?”

I was flabbergasted. “No, not a word. We really didn’t discuss religion much. We agreed to believe in each other,” I said, thinking about that decision all those years ago. “Maybe that was a mistake.”

“Ah, that’s water under the bridge now. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Silence came over us once again. I wished I could heed Hauser’s advice, but my mind continued to fumble through what I’d just learned. After several minutes of thought, I spoke.

“So, you could only observe? How much were you around?” I asked, thinking back through the day, and my fumbling about with the transport jump thing.

Hauser’s eyes shifted away from me and then back quickly. “I, uh… was in and out a number of times, just staying in the shadows as best I could.”

I nodded and tried to envision just where he could have been at in each of the situations where I thought I felt someone’s presence.

“Were you there when Wilson passed?” I asked, remembering getting hit on the back while sitting on the bench.

“Unfortunately, I just missed Wilson’s departure. I would have loved to see the ol’ chap once more before he gave up the ghost,” Hauser said. “No, I first showed up just shortly after.”

“Uh huh. I thought so. That was you that smacked the air into my lungs.”

Hauser smiled. “Yep. You caught me. Considering you immediate history with trying to end your life, I didn’t need you giving it all a second try right after Wilson gave you his soul.”

“What? I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I was just… checking something,” I said, slightly embarrassed for my personal experimentation of life after death. “I wanted to see if I needed to breathe. You know… After I died and all. If you hadn’t smacked me right then, you would have seen me take a breath just seconds later.”

“Heh. Sorry ‘bout that, then. I just didn’t want you to get any idea’s is all.”

“Trust me, Hauser. I wish I could go back and undo all that I did in that café. Suicide was not the solution, and now everything I knew or had is lost.”

Hauser bobbed his head as he studied the crucifix in front of us.

We sat in uncomfortable silence for several more minutes before I spoke again.

“And you couldn’t have helped me out with the collection. Just observe?”

“Oh, I could have helped. Would have, too, if you couldn’t pick things up on your own. I just wanted to see what you were made of.” Hauser whistled quietly. “Let me tell you, you move to the front of the class, bub. What lousy luck for you to have to go through what you just did. Your own wife? If there was a bar that served our kind, I’d buy you a drink.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it. So, who’s up next? Have you looked?”

“What? Oh yeah.” I flipped the box around until the name was readable.

“It’s Abigail Whitaker,” I said, looking at Hauser.

He nodded his head knowingly but remained silent.

“What? Are you not telling me something? Do you recognize the name?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I was actually hoping that would be the name that popped up for you next.”