Christopher Moore - Secondhand Souls

“Really?” Charlie said.

The croc guy made a delighted growly noise as he climbed to his feet and scampered across the kitchen, his head and torso sort of wiggling back and forth as he moved, his lower jaw flapping, leaving a drop of drool on every downstroke, his long dong skittering on the tile between his feet as he moved. He stopped in front of Charlie and made an excited and juicy growling sound.

“Charlie, this is big Charlie,” Audrey said, presenting big Charlie with a bow.

Big Charlie looked at her. “You named him Charlie?”

“What was I supposed to do? He was Charlie for a year. I’ve talked to him for countless hours as Charlie, so when I see him, I think Charlie . You’re not the only one going through a transition here. Anyway, I’ve decided on another name for him.”

“Which is?”

“Wiggly Charlie.”

The croc guy jumped up and down, clicked his talons as if clapping, excited drooly breaths.

“See, he likes it.”

“He is pretty wiggly.”

As if on cue, Wiggly Charlie resumed jumping, his torso, head, and jaw wiggling as if connected by loose springs.

Charlie felt bad for the little guy, then he felt bad for Audrey. “Was I this goofy when I first, you know, when I first moved into that body?”

“No, you were much more coordinated. There was kind of more there . Less drooly.”

“Really? I mean, look at him.” Charlie looked at Wiggly Charlie, then at Audrey. “All that time, you weren’t—you weren’t creeped out by me?”

She sat down in the chair across from him, moved his coffee cup, took his hand. “To be honest, I was always captivated by your enormous unit.”

“Really?”

She nodded, eyes down, humble and sincere.

“Are you fucking with me?”

She nodded, eyes down, humble and sincere.

She laughed. Wiggly Charlie made his breathy, excited noise.

“Come here,” Charlie said, bending down. “We need to fix you.”

Charlie untied Wiggly Charlie’s wizard robe, then wound his dong around his waist and cinched his robe shut under it, so now instead of a creepy little patchwork creature dragging around a completely disproportionately sized sex organ, he just looked like he needed to spend a little more time at a creepy little patchwork creature gym to work off his roll.

“There you go,” Charlie said, sitting up to admire his work. “Better?”

Wiggly Charlie frisked and drooled, clicked his talons together in applause.

“Are you hungry?” Charlie asked. “Do you want something to eat?”

More jumping, frisking, and drooling. Audrey sat back in her chair with Charlie’s coffee in hand and watched this very strange bonding.

“Let’s get you something to eat,” Charlie said. He got up and led Wiggly Charlie over to the big stainless-steel refrigerator.

“I’m making him some shoes,” said Audrey. “The toenails on the tile and carpet drive me nuts.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because my annoyance at toenail noise seemed kind of trivial compared to the fact that I’d trapped you in that,” she said. Then to Wiggly Charlie, “No offense.”

Charlie scanned the shelves. “Do you want a cheese stick?” He held up an individually wrapped mozzarella cheese stick.

Wiggly Charlie jumped, reached up. Charlie gave him the cheese stick. He immediately clamped down on it, working it with noisy, wet smacks of his jaws, the cheese stick sort of becoming very distressed, but more of it hanging out either side of his mouth than in it.

Charlie crouched down. “Look at me. Look at me.”

Wiggly Charlie stopped chomping and looked at him.

“Do your tongue like this? See, like this.”

Wiggly Charlie did his tongue the way Charlie was doing it, rolling it. Charlie remembered having to learn to eat with teeth that were made only to tear, not to chew. In the hospital, he’d had to consciously get used to having molars again, not to swallow chunks of food.

“Good,” said Charlie. “Now do this with your tongue while you’re chewing.”

Wiggly Charlie did, and the cheese stick slowly disappeared into his mouth.

“Good! Next time we’ll take the wrapper off.” Charlie said. “You want another cheese stick?” He grabbed another cheese stick from the shelf.

“Want a cheez,” said Wiggly Charlie, very wet, very scratchy, but very distinct.

Charlie looked at Audrey. “He talks.” His voice broke.

She nodded, smiling into the coffee cup.

“Want a cheez,” said Wiggly Charlie.

Charlie, who was alive in another man’s body, who had lost the mother of his child and the love of his life, who had found and sold human souls, been present at hundreds of deaths, who had died and been resurrected, twice, closed the refrigerator and slid down the door as he unwrapped the mozzarella, then began to weep. Wiggly Charlie, whatever the hell he was, was alive, and Charlie wept for the joy of it—that spark of life.

“I know, we can call him W.C. for short,” said Audrey, acting as if she didn’t notice that the man she loved, evidently, was sitting on the floor, sobbing—giving him that measure of pretend privacy.

“A cheez,” said Wiggly Charlie, bouncing on his ducky feet.

Charlie gave him the mozzarella stick, then looked up at Audrey, tears in his eyes. “Let’s go see my daughter.”

“I’ll get my keys,” Audrey said.

“Need a cheez,” said Wiggly Charlie.

It took them ten minutes to get to North Beach from the Buddhist Center in the Mission District and twenty minutes to find parking.

“I’ll get you a permit and you’ll be able to park in the alley where I used to park my van,” said Charlie.

“That will be great when I visit,” said Audrey.

“Wait, what? Wait.”

They were at the front entrance, next to the storefront. Charlie had buzzed and they were waiting, since Charlie no longer had a key.

“I can’t live here, Charlie. I have to be at the Three Jewels Center. It’s my job.”

“You can go there for meetings and classes,” he said. “I thought you’d live here with Sophie and me.”

“I have to be there for the Squirrel People.”

Charlie threw his arms around her and pulled her close. “No. I’m never letting you out of my sight.”

Audrey patted his back for him to let her loose, but he pulled her tighter to him.

“Are you guys going to do it?” came Jane’s voice over the speaker.

Charlie let Audrey loose and looked around. There was a domed security camera in the doorway that hadn’t been there when he had lived here. He looked directly into it. “No, can you buzz us in?”

“I guess technically it’s not necrophilia,” Jane said.

“Please,” he said.

The door buzzed and they went in and up the stairs. Jane stood in the doorway of what had once been Charlie’s apartment, wearing Cal Berkeley sweatpants and a Stanford sweatshirt. “Come on in.”

“Is Sophie here?” Charlie whispered.

“School,” said Jane.

“Cassie?”

“The yoga center is mad at her for borrowing their backboard without asking, so they’re making her stay extra to scrub out all the old chakras.”

“Yeah, that’s not a thing,” said Audrey.

“Whatever,” said Jane. “She’s going to run by school and walk Sophie home, so we’ve got an hour or so to kill.”

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“I’m in banking. We have ATMs that do almost everything.”

“Aren’t you in real estate loans?”

“I am, but I’m pretty high up, so I don’t really do anything. Sign papers and go to meetings. I have an assistant who does the work. They don’t even miss me. I’m golfing with important clients right now, I think.”