Paul Kohler - The Borrowed Souls, A Novel

“That’s fantastic, honey. Who is she?”

“Her name’s Maxine. Yeah, I think she’ll do okay. But still, it’s just so difficult letting go of certain aspects of the business. You just don’t know who you can and cannot trust in this world.”

“Hey, buddy. I think you need a lesson or two in life lessons on how to read people,” I said, not believing what I was hearing from this guy.

Dana leaned forward, staring into Meghan’s eyes. “So, are we okay? Do you forgive my jealous tendencies?”

Meghan reached out, stroked his face, and smiled. “Sure thing, sweetheart. And I do apologize for being away so often. It really does take it out of me too, you know?”

“That I do,” Dana said.

“Well, then if you don’t mind, I think I might go up and take a quick catnap,” Meghan said as she began to rise from the table.

“Sure thing, Meg. Why don’t you do that and I’ll take care of this lunch mess.”

A moment later, Meg disappeared around the corner. The creaking sound of her climbing the stairway could be heard throughout the apartment.

As soon as the sound of Meghan’s exit faded, Dana sprang from his chair, rushed into the foyer, and grabbed Meghan’s purse. Moments later, he returned to the kitchen and instantly began rummaging through the various zippered compartments. He finally found what he was looking for and withdrew Meghan’s cell phone. Unlocking the screen, he went directly to her messaging app and started it up.

“Sorry, bro, but you’re wasting your time,” I said. “She already deleted everything.”

A moment later, Dana discovered that very thing and sighed deeply.

Dana replaced Meghan’s cell phone exactly where he’d found it, minding to return everything to its original condition prior to his search, then took the purse back into the entryway. When he returned to the kitchen to clean up, I decided to jump upstairs and find out if Meghan and Luke’s well-earned demise was imminent. A moment later, I vanished.

I landed in the master bedroom and found Meghan already in bed. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing was still shallow; she wasn’t asleep yet. I knelt down next to her and slipped the rosary over my head. Lightly grasping the crucifix, I touched the back of her hand gently and thought of a point twenty-four hours ahead.

Within seconds, I was standing back downstairs in the kitchen, and Meghan sat at the kitchen table, her eyes brimming with tears.

“I don’t know, Meg. You say one thing but somehow mean something completely different,” Dana said, leaning against the kitchen countertop, his arms crossed in front of him.

“I’ve already told you. I was at the conference. Why don’t you believe me?” Meghan cried.

“You see, that’s the thing. I wanted to believe you, but there was just something… something that wasn’t settling with me. When I got to work this morning, my curiosity got the better of me. I called the Radisson, and guess what they told me?”

Meghan’s eyes locked on to Dana’s and her tears slowed. “You what? You checked up on me?”

“I did. And it was a good thing, too, because they told me there was no conference there this weekend. Tell me, my faithful wife, if you were not at the conference this weekend, where the hell were you?”

Tears returned to Meghan’s eyes in full force. “I swear, Dana. I was there. I don’t know who you talked to, but there was a conference and I was there. It was mandatory for all of the employees to go.”

“Okay. Let’s say I believe you. What do you have from the conference that you can show me?” Dana asked. “Hotel bill? Airline ticket stub?”

“Are you kidding me? Yesterday you tell me you’re okay with everything, and now you’re calling to check up on me? To track me down, to find out every movement I make?” Meghan stood up abruptly and stormed out of the kitchen. A moment later, Dana and I followed.

Dana caught up to Meghan in the foyer. “You know, this whole thing could all go away if you just show me something, anything that you took away from your ‘conference,’” Dana said, throwing up air quotes in a dramatic fashion.

“Well, to hell with you. I’m not about to start justifying my every move for you. Not now, not ever,” Meghan said as she slung her purse over her arm.

“So, what? You’re just going to run away? Is that it? You’re going to run away from this adult conversation we’re having?” Dana asked.

“No, I’m walking away. From you. I need a break, and so do you. I’ll be back later. And hopefully by then you’ll have had some time to realize just how much of an asshole you’re being about this entire situation.” Then she walked out the door.

I released the rosary and was brought back to the present.

When my vision cleared, I was sitting on the floor and Meghan was fast asleep on the bed next to me.

“I don’t know how you can do this,” I said. “How can you sleep so peacefully with all of that deceit flowing through your veins?”

I stood and hovered over Meghan for several minutes as I contemplated my next move. My emotions were running high, and I needed an escape. Not an escape like Meghan, but I certainly needed a mental break from the adulterous situation. From what I’d learned in the flash-forward, I knew I had at least twenty-four hours before anything would happen. I formulated a destination in my mind, and a moment later I vanished from Meghan’s bedside.

When I reappeared, I stood in a cavernous warehouse filled with aisles of metal shelving stacked to the ceiling. As I made my way through the maze of storage shelves, I hoped that my stash of goods hadn’t been relocated. A third of the way down the aisle, I arrived at a grouping of shelves that were host to several boxes with the name Duffy plastered on their sides. After shuffling around the first few empty boxes, I came to one that was full and quite heavy. I tipped the lid off and quickly filled each arm with volumes of my own books. I scooped up as many as I could carry, emptying the entire box. With my elbow, I nudged the lid back over the box and then promptly disappeared.

Landing in the middle of my new domicile, I moved to the side of the fireplace and began placing my prized book collection on the rustic bookshelves that I’d fabricated from reclaimed barn wood taken from the shed a week earlier.

One by one, I placed the books on the shelf, reciting each of the titles as I did so. About halfway through the second armful, a plain white envelope slipped out of one of the books. I sat the remaining books down before picking up the fallen envelope. I turned it over in my hand, but there were no visible words on either side. I didn’t recall placing it in any of my books before, so I was at a loss as to where it might have come from.

Turning it back over, I flipped open the rear flap and looked inside. What I saw caused my heart to skip a beat.

“My God, I haven’t seen this in ages,” I breathed.

I backed up and lowered myself into my lumpy couch before sliding the envelope’s contents out. I held a copy of Cyndi’s and my marriage license, accompanied by several aged photos from our wedding day. From what I could remember, we had received the photos a few months after our wedding from one of our friends. Because they were so candid and unplanned, both Cyndi and I cherished them greatly.

As I flipped through the stack of photos, memories of our wedding came rushing back. I could remember nearly every moment of that day vividly, because it was the most cherished moment of my existence. I remembered having lunch with Cyndi that day at the restaurant where we had had our first date. We’d had the same meals on both occasions—a lasagna roll for me and fettuccine Alfredo for Cyndi. And just like our first date, Cyndi had barely touched her meal.