Paul Kohler - The Borrowed Souls, A Novel

And there I sat, contemplating my future, my mortality. Whether or not to take my own life. I looked from pill to pill. I knew how easy it would be to end all the pain and suffering. Just a handful of pills and a quick gulp of clean, cool water would be so easy.

I reached up and wiped a bead of sweat from my brow and glanced around once more. I tried to think of a single reason not to take the pills, but nothing came to mind. All that I could think about was seeing my wife move rhythmically with another man.

“Please, God, no!” I said, barely containing my growing anxiety. “Please tell me,” I begged.

“You were supposed to wait for me on the bus,” he said.

“Why’s that?” I said turning fully in Wilson’s direction.

The old man held his hand out, producing an amber-colored prescription bottle out of thin air. He gave the bottle a shake, rattling the remaining Percocet pills inside.

“Who are you?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer to the question.

“You already know who I am,” he replied.

“All right then. Why are you here?”

“I think you know the answer to that question as well.”

I nodded my head in agreement. Although yesterday was an absolutely horrific day, now I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to die. A terrible job and a cheating wife were no reasons to end a life, and all it took was a kind stranger and a bus ride to figure that out.

“Did I really take all those pills?” I asked, looking down at the coin still in my hand.

“Why not find out for yourself? You’ve come this far, but I wouldn’t think less of you for not wanting to see your final moments.”

Before I had a chance to decide, my subconscious mind made the choice for me. I turned the coin for the final time.”

As a tear rolled down my cheek, I reached for a pill and placed it on my tongue. I instinctively swallowed it without water. A moment later, I took two more. I sat there waiting for something to keep me from taking the whole pile, but nothing did. I scooped the remaining pills from the table and tossed them back all at once. I washed them down with the last of my water.

Not wanting to cause a scene at the quaint little restaurant, I slid the pill bottle into my pocket and left the patio through the side exit. Back on the sidewalk, I meandered aimlessly for few blocks before coming to a bus stop. With no motivation to proceed, I sat on the bench.

Leaning back, I wondered how long the pills would take and how it would happen. Having never used pain medications, I was unsure what the effects would be. All I felt was anxiety.

As the moments passed, I thought about what I had witnessed. Seeing Cyndi with another man was an absolute betrayal that I would have never imagined. Not for the first time, I asked myself how she could do it. Had our love for each other meant nothing to her?

I tried to figure out where our relationship might have gone wrong, but thinking back to our last fight some six months previous, nothing stood out. That last fight was over something stupid, like leaving dishes unrinsed in the sink. It wasn’t really the dishes that the fight was about, but it certainly was the igniter. The fight carried on for several days, and every little idiosyncrasy fueled the argument. Finally, after I was tired of being mad at her for being mad at me, I apologized, and all was better. So I thought. Could that have been the reason? Could that have made her look at me differently? Surely not, I mused.

I felt so alone.

Moments later, I noticed my breathing begin to change. It felt as if I could not get enough air in my lungs. I tried to take in larger breaths, but just as soon as I inhaled, I involuntarily let the breath out. My accelerated breathing caused my heart to beat faster. I didn’t notice it right away, but once my hand began to twitch, I knew it was from the pills. I leaned my head back and tried to relax, but the combination of the traffic noise and the overdose of pills prevented me from doing so.

Then, out of nowhere, it felt like my stomach flipped a somersault. I quickly leaned forward, and as I did, I knew I was going to puke. I looked up and down the street for a garbage can, but none were in sight. With no other alternative, I stood up and staggered to the curb. Leaning over, I threw up what little food I had eaten through the day. I spat out the languishing bile in my mouth and tried to stand up. A sudden dizzy spell took over, and I nearly collapsed backward. I reached out and grabbed the signpost to steady myself. I felt the time was near. I figured it would be quick, but I had no idea that the pills would affect me so soon.

As I stood there, a man walking by stopped next to me and asked “You doing OK, man?”

Although confusion was setting in, I heard the man’s words and nodded. When I looked into the man’s eyes, I saw worry and concern.

He patted me on the shoulder and continued down the sidewalk. For a brief moment, I wondered if I had made the wrong choice by taking the pills.

A moment later, a city bus pulled to a stop right in front of me. It took me a moment to realize that I was still standing at the bus stop. I instinctively pulled my bus pass from my wallet and climbed aboard. In typical fashion, the first several rows of the bus were filled, so I moved to the very last row and slumped down. The bus lurched ahead, and I felt as if I had left my stomach back at the stop. I leaned forward, feeling like I was going to puke again, but it was just dry heaves. There was nothing left in my stomach.

I looked around at the other passengers on the bus. They were all on their time schedule. Most were just getting off work and heading home, while others were heading in the other direction. For me, time had no meaning. Unlike those around me, I had no pressing matters. I knew the end was near. The pungent odors of sweat and unwashed bodies drifted about the cramped vehicle, but I was unfazed. Nothing bothered me. I leaned back and smiled. For the first time all day, I felt contentment.

As moments passed for me, hours passed for the others in the world. I drifted in and out of consciousness, waiting for the end to take me. It wasn’t until the jostle that my eyes opened.

“So, am I dead then? Is that why you’re here?”

“Well, yes and no. I’ll explain.” He pulled a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed it across his forehead. “You see, much like yourself, I was late today. Actually, I need to correct that. I was with you earlier, but it wasn’t at the proper time, so I left you to take care of another matter. When I returned to you, you had in fact died but had miraculously come back to life.”

“If I’m alive, then why are you still here? I can go now, right? I got a second chance?” I eagerly suggested.

“It’s not like that, Mr. Duffy.” He paused and slid the refolded handkerchief back into his outer pocket. “You did die. And as soon as you took those pills, you set a number of other events in motion. So, per my orders, I need to take your soul. You see, I’m a soul collector.”

“But you said I miraculously came back to life. Doesn’t that mean I am, in fact, a miracle myself?”

“In all the years of doing this job, Mr. Duffy, I have only witnessed a similar event one other time.”

“And what happened then?” I asked.

Wilson looked down to the ground. “What happened then doesn’t matter now. What does matter is I need to turn in a soul, and yours is the one that needs collecting.”

We sat in silence, both of us staring at anything but each other. I thought about getting up and running. At his age, it would be no contest.

“Yes, you could run, Mr. Duffy, but it would be pointless,” Wilson stated matter-of-factly.