Or Not to Be (28 page)

“No. You should go back!” Lizzie’s whiny
voice comes out of nowhere.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I can be anywhere I want. I’m your guide,
you know, so I can be with you whether you want me here or not.”

“Great.” I stare at the horrible domestic
scene before me and demand, “If you’re going to invade my space, at least help
me understand what I’m seeing here.”

“I don’t have to.”

She is so annoying. “Then what good are
you as a guide?”

“I’m a fantastic
guide. I don’t mean I don’t have to like
I refuse to
, I mean I don’t have to because
you don’t need me to
. You can figure it out by
yourself.”

“Oh. Well, how about you listen to me talk
about what I see and let me know if I get stuff wrong? Can you at least do that
for me—be my bumper pad again?”

“If it’ll help you move this agonizing
process along, I will. You know, I’m in great demand. The universe has a lot of
work lined up for me. We didn’t anticipate you taking all my energy for so
long.”

When I don’t answer she says, “Let’s get
on with it already. Talk, talk, talk!”

“First of all, how is it possible to see
my future life when I haven’t decided to return?”

“That’s easy. Until you decide to go
back—and you will very soon, Ed Wixim—when you watch the future, you can see it
at least two ways: sometimes with you in it and sometimes without you there.
You can even see the same scenes lived out with someone else in your place. In
your case, now, your future scenes are clear and strong. You will go back. You
know that you are just stalling here, right?”

“Sure. Yeah. I guess so. But if I was
wavering, like fifty-fifty, on the fence about the choice, how would the scenes
look?”

“More confused. Jagged. Quite like
nightmares, so I’ve heard, but I haven’t personal experience from that
perspective because there was no future for me. I’ve just heard of it from
other guides. My death had no return gate, and, as a Rebound guide, I most
often deal with rapid returners. Ed, you are one bullheaded enigma.”

“As are you, Lizzie. But help me puzzle
this all out.”

I start describing what I’ve seen.
“There’s a kid upstairs under the bed. He must be the son of this loser Eddie
guy who won’t vacate the couch or eat or even watch football correctly. If
Eddie is me, then Joey’s my kid, right?”

“Of course. Go on.”

“I haven’t figured out the Michelle chick,
but she’s nice to Eddie even though he’s a loser. Does she love him? Do they
live together?”

“Yes to the first, and no to the second
question.”

“Okay, whatever. And who’s the girl
upstairs?”

“Here they come. How about shutting up for
ten seconds and listening. I bet they virtually spell out who they are.”

That Lizzie. She’s probably right, but I
still want to pop her one on the head.

“Dad,” says the girl, “I tried to get Joey
to come out. I give up. Will you take a turn? I really need a shower. And Aunt
Michelle started packing. I think she’s going to leave soon.” Boy, did the girl
ever need a shower. Her long, greasy hair was a mess, and her crumpled clothes
looked like she’d slept in them.

“Sure, Bethany. I’ll go up in a minute.”
Eddie remains a lump on the couch. Bethany refills her coffee and takes it with
her to the shower.

I say to Lizzie,
“I got a lot out of that one. Michelle is my sister, and Bethany is my
daughter. So I have two kids. Who’s the wife? I got
married
? Me? I don’t even have time to
date
.”

“Okay, smart guy.
You got most of that right. Do you
remember
having a sister Michelle?”

“No.” I think about it. “Is she my wife’s
sister?”

“Bingo. What else do you need to figure
out?”

“Well, I want to see my future wife. Where
is she? What’s her name? Is she the Anna person that Michelle was talking
about?”

“Maybe. Watch some more, and you’ll piece
it together.”

I decide
not
to watch my daughter Bethany take her shower, and
figure spending time under Joey’s bed while he slept would probably not be
enlightening. I resign myself to hanging with my older self. Old Man Eddie.
That guy’s a thrill a minute.

“Can’t we fast-forward this a bit?” I ask
Lizzie when I get bored stiff with the Eddie dude.

“Fast-forward, rewind, pause, stop, play?
We’ve got it all. Do what you will, this is your show.” She sounds impatient
but indulgent. Maybe figuring out the mystery of my future home life would help
me decide to live. Not likely; it looked pretty damn bleak so far.

“I’m gonna fast-forward. Can I do it by
the hour?”

“However you like. Just think it and I’ll
get you there,” she says.

I think ahead one hour. Eddie is asleep on
the couch.

Two hours. He’s watching the news.

Another hour. He’s still parked, and it’s
getting dark outside. After a few more hours, the house is dark and silent, and
Eddie is missing from the couch.

“Where is he?” I ask Lizzie.

She groans. “Find him yourself.”

I search room by room and find him in a
bedroom, pawing through a chest of drawers. Women’s underwear. The man is odd,
and he is crying.

“How about rewind a day or so?” I suggest.

Lizzie grunts assent.

I see Eddie in a car driving alone. It is
early evening. He pulls off the road into a school parking lot and gets out of
the car. He walks to the door as though to a firing squad. What is wrong with
this guy?

The school is dark except for one light by
the entrance. A woman is standing just inside the door with a little boy. It’s
that Joey kid from under the bed. He has on his coat and backpack, and he’s
making a mess of the window by drawing on fog clouds that he blows on the glass
door. There’s a light haze of sweat forming on his forehead. Eddie walks
quickly to Joey as the lady pushes him out the door.

Eddie lifts Joey up, apologizes to the
lady, and carries him away to the car.

While old Eddie wrestles with the kid’s
seatbelt, Joey asks, “Where’s Mommy?”

Eddie is crying when he says, “Mommy
died.”

The mother died? He’s telling the kid in
the car?

“Can we go see her? Is she coming home?”
the poor kid asks.

Then Eddie blatantly lies to his son. “
When somebody dies, they don’t come home anymore.
”

Joey’s mommy. That
would be Eddie’s wife. That would be
my
wife! I’m going to have a wife, and she’s going to die?

Lizzie’s voice, “Come on, you schmuck.
It’s not so surprising that you’ll end up married. Most people do it.”

“But, Lizzie, she’s going to die. Look
what it does to Eddie! I mean to me! I’m a mess!”

“No kidding.” This is my guide’s idea of
support.

I look back and hear Joey ask, “Did she
die like Grammy?”

“Yes, Joe. She’s with Grammy now.” Eddie
loses it. He’s sobbing while he drives.

“Lizzie! My wife is with Grammy? Is that
her mom? And she’s with her now?”

“Her guide is most likely a close relative
who died before her. But I can’t answer whether she’s with her ‘now’ because
time is a pretty loose term here on the dead side.”

“‘Time is a pretty loose term here on the
dead side.’ Did you really just say that?”

“Yeah. Relax, you’ll get used to it.”

I focus back on the car and the little kid
in the back seat. “Is it possible his mom will come back?”

“I guess she could if she explores enough
to find out that she has the option.”

“You don’t tell everyone that they can go
back?”

“Not everyone can,” Lizzie explains. “I
couldn’t, and I would’ve in an instant. You can, and you’re hanging around here
stalling. It all depends on the individual situation.”

This is too awful to watch, so I zip us
away without any notion of where I’m going. We end up in deep space light years
away from my home planet. Much better. Very serene.

“What now?” Lizzie demands.

“How about some peace? Can’t I be alone to
think?”

“Peace be with you. Alone is dangerous,
though. You’re not good at determining a path yet. I had to help you get to
your future. How did we get here?”

“I have no idea,” I admit. “Okay, forget
the peace. Tell me how the kid’s mom died.”

“Nope.”

“Thanks a lot. I can find out, though,
can’t I?”

“Yeah, Einstein. But you have to figure out
how by yourself.”

She is pissing me off. Too bad I can’t
pull her hair and make her cry or something.

Instead, I say, “I’ll travel back a couple
days or weeks from when I just saw them all and watch what’s going on. That
should help me piece it together.”

Her reply: “Lead on.” Great, she’s coming
with me again.

46

There’s that old loser Eddie
.

He takes a small roundish thing from his
pocket and opens it like a little book. It has hinges and lights up when he
pushes the buttons. He’s at a hospital. He doesn’t look sick though. Oh, right,
he’s wearing a white coat, not a hospital gown. Well, then, that’s cool: seems
like he’s a doctor. He puts the odd device to his ear like it’s a telephone.

Old Eddie says, “Mrs. Wixim?”

It is a telephone!

I wonder if he’s calling my mom or his
wife, but I can’t fathom why he would address either of them as Mrs. Wixim.

He speaks into the phone again. “Mrs.
Wixim, you are the lucky winner of a free in-home pest inspection.” A pause.
The geek grins. “Our highly trained bug engineers will come to your home and
look for black and brown and green insects. How about that?”

He listens for a minute and then pulls the
phone away from his ear, still smiling.

“Mrs. Wixim? Hello? Are you there?”

He holds the phone away from his ear
again, and I can hear a scream come out of it.

He snaps the little device closed and
stands there and laughs for five minutes. I get quite strange in my old age.

| | | |

So Eddie is a doctor
of some kind, and he makes prank calls to his wife or
mother whom he addresses as Mrs. Wixim. “Lizzie! Do you find any of this odd in
any way?”

“In any way? Dude, it is odd in every way.
Nobody can take little glimpses of someone else’s life, or even their own
future life, and fully comprehend it. Life is made up of all kinds of isolated
moments and intertwined experiences. I can tell you that you are very happy,
most of the time, with your wife and family. Had enough? Ready to pop back into
that twenty-year-old stud body?”

“I don’t recall ownership of anything
resembling a stud body, and I’m not even close to ready. I need to at least try
to understand this old man Eddie. He seems so different from me.”

“Whatever.” She gives up and is silent
again. I’m sure she’ll have something snide to say at our next stop.

| | | |

Here’s old Eddie
walking with the Joey kid. They’re both wearing
strange costumes. It’s twilight. Joey is carrying a heavy bag; he’s running
from door to door and begging for candy.

“You got any chocolate?” I hear him say at
one door.

“How about some extra for my dad?” he asks
at the next house.

Joey runs back to Eddie. “Dad, can you
carry some of this candy? The bag is too heavy for me!” Eddie helps him dump
most of it into a trash bag he has slung around his shoulders.

Eddie says, “How about a few more houses
and then we’ll head back home?”

“Aw, Daddy, come on, it isn’t even bedtime
yet.” At least the kid is spunky.

“Okay, then, how about six more houses?”
says old Eddie, the pushover.

“Twenty?” counters Joey, the shyster.

“Ten.”

“Fifteen?”

“Twelve.” Eddie really drew the line
there.

“Deal!” Joey gives old Eddie a high five
and then charges off to the next house, thrilled he negotiated for double the
original candy offer. He commences a countdown, and when folks open the door he
yells, “Trick or Treat! Eleven more! Got any chocolate?”