Paul Kohler - The Borrowed Souls, A Novel

“Really?” I asked.

“Jack, my friend, I believe you are going to be in for quite an experience. A rare occurrence indeed,” Hauser said.

I glanced at the elderly couple to see if I could tell what Hauser was talking about, but nothing stood out. When I turned to Hauser for an explanation, he was gone. He’d just disappeared.

“Shit,” I exclaimed aloud. Thankfully the husband was unable to hear me, and Abigail was unconscious.

As I stepped up to the side of Abigail’s bed, I wondered if I could collect a soul while another living person was in the room. I slipped my hand into my pocket and touched Abigail’s box. But before I could withdraw it, Abigail’s husband began to speak.

“Hello, my darling. Can you hear me?” he said. “It’s me. It’s me, Raymond, your husband. The doctors tell me that you’re in some rough shape, and they’re not sure if you’ll wake up again. I told them, my dear, that you are a tough woman, and that if there’s any way possible, you will make it back to me. You see, you have to. Make it back to me, that is, because I haven’t told you that I love you today. Abby, darling, I love you. And I’m sorry I haven’t made it to you sooner. Between my own injuries and your condition here in the ICU, they haven’t allowed me in until just now.”

At that point, Raymond pulled himself up from his wheelchair and gently kissed Abigail on her forehead. Slumping back into his seat, he continued to speak.

“Abby, my sweet, I hope you can hear my words, because I need you to hear them. I need you to know just how much you mean to me and how much of a pleasure it has been to be married to you for sixty-three years. I want you to know that I’ve been proud to have called you my wife every single day.” Raymond paused briefly to wipe the tears from his eyes and adjust his posture.

“Do you remember, darling, the day we met? I do. I’ve relived that day hundreds of times in my mind through the years. I was so thankful that you agreed to dance with me. Do you remember? I had just transferred from Osborne and I think it was maybe my second week at Madison. I had no friends, just a few people that agreed to tolerate me hanging around with them. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but each and every one of those boys had something of a crush on you. And let me tell you, they were fit to be tied when I up and asked you to dance. I can’t imagine what my life would be like today if you hadn’t said yes all those years ago.”

Raymond inched his wheelchair closer to Abigail’s bedside and adjusted her bedsheet enough so that he could touch her. With her hand free from under the covers, he slipped his own hand into hers. As I stood right next to the bed, I could see her hand close tightly in his.

“Oh, darling. My God, you can hear me. Abby, I love you with all my heart. You are an angel sent from heaven. My angel,” Raymond said, sobbing freely.

As I stood next to the couple, I fought back tears of my own. Suddenly I noticed Abigail’s eyes slide open. She glanced first at Raymond, smiling gently, then she turned her gaze toward me. With a movement so barely distinguishable, she bobbed her head up and down as she looked into my eyes. Her gaze told me that she was ready. A moment later her stare drifted up and to the right, and her mouth fell open.

Despite the intubation tube between her lips, her soul gently slipped past it and into the air. I was prepared, and slipped the box from my pocket, opening it in one swift motion. Abigail’s soul did not hesitate long before it entered the box completely. As the box closed, I brought it to my lips and inhaled slowly. The taste of Abigail’s soul was sweet, so sweet I swear that I have never tasted anything sweeter.

I pulled the box from my lips and then it vanished. In its place, a new box appeared in my hand. Without thinking, I read the name aloud.

“Raymond Whitaker.”

“NO!” Raymond cried as the device at the side of Abigail’s bed began to blare warning sounds intermixed with a flat, dull tone.

I reached over and silenced the machine. When I returned my gaze to Raymond, I found his flooded eyes staring back at me.

“Oh my God, is that it?” he asked.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Whitaker, but I’m afraid so. I assure you, your wife did not suffer long.”

“Oh, God. Oh, God, no. No. Please, no. Please, isn’t there anything you can do?” he begged.

All I knew was that it was her time to go. I wasn’t sure what I could tell him that would ease his pain. In addition to having no real knowledge of her medical condition, I was hesitant to say much of anything at this point.

“I… apologize. But her age was quite a factor in her condition,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound like a complete idiot. “The doctors here are the best in the region, and I assure you that if there was anything—”

“Wait, you’re not a doctor?” Raymond asked, drying his eyes on his shirt sleeve. “Come to think of it, I didn’t even hear you enter. When did you come in?”

Oh shit, I thought. Neither Wilson nor Hauser had told me what to do in a situation like this. Do I lie? Do I tell that I am a doctor after all? Or do I tell him I’m, what? A nurse? A priest? Think!

“No, I am not a doctor. I’m a… a counselor here, to lend an ear to those who have lost a loved one. And I apologize for not announcing my entrance. I am sometimes too quiet for my own good.”

“So that’s it? The doctors won’t try to bring her back?” Raymond asked.

Being somewhat familiar with how hospitals operate, I quickly recognized the red medical tag around Abigail’s wrist.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Whitaker, but your wife must have authorized a DNR. I’m sure that there was a valid reason for her to do so.”

Raymond slouched back in his wheelchair, looking defeated. “I… guess I remember them talking to me about something…” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, Mr. Whitaker. You may have been unaware of the situation, due to your own condition.”

“Abby and I talked about this just a few months ago. At our age we both agreed that we would not be a burden on one another, if something… happened. But never in my worst nightmare would I have imagined that it would be her going first.” Raymond began to cry again as he held her hand tightly. “Oh, Abby. What will I do now? How can I go on without you?”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how long were you and Mrs. Whitaker married?” I asked. Even though I had just heard his loving declaration, I figured a little extra coaxing for his soul couldn’t hurt.

“Abby and I were high school sweethearts. We met in our junior year, 1950, I think, and were married the year after we graduated. That was sixty-three years ago. Sixty-three wonderful years.”

“Abigail sounds like a wonderful woman. How was it that you two met?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Raymond sat up in his chair and beamed. “Back in the day, Abigail was quite a stunner. All the boys in school constantly fell over themselves after her. I remember the day we met like it was yesterday.”

“I’d love to experience that day with you, if you would allow me to?” I asked.

“I… I don’t understand. How can you experience it with me? It was so long ago,” Raymond said.

I slid a chair up beside him and sat down. “Well, Mr. Whitaker, I have this coin, you see, that is mildly hypnotic. If you would allow me, I could take you back and relive that day one more time before—”

“Oh, yes! Please, yes. I would love to see her again, the way I saw her for the first time,” Raymond said eagerly.

I slipped the coin from my pocket and placed it in the palm of Raymond’s hand.

“Mr. Whitaker, I need you to focus on that day. That first day that you and Abigail met. When you have that vision firmly in your mind, I need you to turn the coin over.”