Temporary Monsters (13 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Sheila was asleep on the pillow next to him.

She looked different. Younger, more innocent perhaps. He remembered that Sheila well, back when they had first been together. Now, he was back next to her again.

He remembered just how he had felt about her. His first true love. And he remembered what happened after that, and how that pure and wonderful feeling was a thing from his past.

He lifted his own head from his pillow. The bedroom beyond Sheila was hazy, indistinct, as if obscured by mist. Lenny heard something droning in his ear. Sheila was still asleep. But somebody else was talking, growing louder with every word.

“I am the ghost of Lenny past!” a voice announced from somewhere close by. “Here to show you past errors, and the possibility of redemption. Here to reveal a pivotal day, the importance of which you only now may see.”

Lenny studied the young woman sleeping at his side. Things had seemed so simple then. When he and Sheila were first together, the world was bright and new.

Sheila opened her eyes and smiled. “Wow. I knew you were special. But not
that
special.”

Lenny blinked. Everything about the night before came flooding back in surprising detail. It felt like hours ago rather than years, no doubt some further benefit of the swami's spell.

Lenny smiled. He had known (way back then) the night before was pretty good, but he never imagined
how
good. Multiple times good. It seemed quite remarkable from a couple of years farther down the line. He had definitely been inspired.

Sheila pushed up against him. His hand brushed against her stomach. She was naked under the sheet.

She leaned close to his ear to whisper. “Why don't we pick up where we left off?”

He was surprised how ready he was to take her up on that. But that wasn't what he was here for—was it? Lenny thought briefly about what his body was asking him to do. Well, why not? How could he really know what he was here for until he tried—everything?

“Be aware of all your senses!” the ghost announced in his other ear. Lenny yelped.

“Are my hands cold?” Sheila asked.

“No, it's not that,” Lenny assured her.

“Your gift is here,” the ghost continued. “Look, and listen!”

How could Lenny do anything with constant ghostly interruptions?

He smiled at Sheila. “I guess I'd just like to talk.”

Sheila smiled at that as well. How long had it been since he had made Sheila really smile? Today he could do no wrong.

“Okay. There's lots to talk about.” Sheila sighed in contentment. “We have our whole lives together.”

If only she knew. What had led both of them to their lives together, their lives apart, and finally to their meeting in Foo's secret headquarters? If Swami Phil was correct, it began right here.

“Seek the answers you must find!” the ghost cheered.

Lenny shook his head. “I don't know how to find what I'm looking for.”

“We're both young. We don't need to have all the answers.” Sheila squeezed his arm. “I don't think you put enough faith in yourself. You're somebody who can do great things. Together, we could do just about anything.”

He turned and looked at Sheila's bright blue eyes. He had felt that way about both of them, once.

Sheila's breast brushed against his elbow. “Remember what you did last night, with your tongue?”

Even he had to admit that was pretty remarkable. Maybe he could delay his quest for answers just a little while.

“Sheila holds the clue!”

Lenny started as the ghost barked in his ear.

Sheila pulled back from his side to frown up at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. Except I have a ghost shouting in my ear. He glanced back at Sheila. How could Lenny explain the unexplainable?

He decided he couldn't. “Maybe I should go to the bathroom.”

“Good idea. I'll try to scare up some breakfast while you're gone.”

Sheila climbed out of bed and walked, naked, into the kitchen. Lenny did his best to look the other way. He had to concentrate. Who knew how long this spell would last? He had a mission, to find the true meaning of his gift. He left the bedroom and turned into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

“Ghost?” he asked when he was done peeing. “I appreciate your assistance, but could you not shout in my ear?”

“The swami told me it was important to cheer you on, keep you focused!” the ghost insisted.

“I understand that! But I'd like not to jump every time you say something!”

The ghost thought otherwise. “This is the most important job I've had in eons! It could be a turning point in my ghostly existence. What if we really find the true nature of your gift? And I really helped? Nobody would forget—well, whatever my name is—then!”

Lenny sighed. “All right. Give me pointers when you think I need them, but from here on in, you need to let me lead the way.”

“Swami Phil says I can't let you get distracted.” The ghost was getting even more excited. “I need to urge you ever onward to your goal!”

“Could you just do it a bit more quietly?” Lenny realized he was shouting as well.

“Are you talking to me, sweetie?” Sheila called from the other side of the bathroom door.

“We'll discuss this later,” Lenny hissed in a tense whisper. He turned toward the door, but turned back for an instant. Sheila didn't like it when he didn't put the toilet seat back down.

He opened the bathroom door and walked down the short hall to the kitchen. He was relieved to see that Sheila had put on his old terry-cloth robe. He needed to get past any distractions and find out why he was really here.

“Sorry,” he said as he walked into the room. “Just talking to myself.”

“Why don't you come over here and I can talk back at you?” She held out a steaming mug. “I made you some coffee. Beyond that, your pantry is bare.” She lifted a cereal box and shook it. It sounded almost empty. “You've got a little raisin bran. No milk.” She put down the box and picked up a paper-wrapped pastry, which she then rapped against the counter. The pastry knocked with a solid clunk. “And I think these Pop-Tarts are prehistoric.”

Lenny started to apologize.

“Hush, lover,” Sheila interrupted before he could say any more. “This just proves how much you need me around. You need a good woman in your life. Maybe it's time I moved in.”

Sheila moving in? That had been the beginning of the end for their relationship. When this had first happened, really happened, he had been surprised and flattered. And, more importantly, he hadn't said no. The second time around, he wondered if he could change the outcome.

“I'd really like that, but what would you do with your apartment?” he countered.

“Let me worry about that.” Sheila replied. “My father knows the landlord.”

“Well, let's talk about it, then,” Lenny countered.

“Isn't that what we're doing now?”

Lenny sighed. “But there are other things to consider, before you—I mean, before we—make any big life change.” He could feel his voice grow quieter and less sure as he tried to explain. “If we really want to have a life together, if we want to make it work, shouldn't we talk about it first?”

Sheila frowned. Her angry frown. Lenny knew that frown. “I'm beginning to think that you don't want me around!”

Great. Instead of preventing a bad move that would affect both their futures, Lenny had managed to sink his relationship here and now. And why was he trying to change things, anyway? Shouldn't he just be reliving the moment here, looking for clues? After all that had happened, did he still have feelings for Sheila?

“Why don't you answer me?” Sheila demanded. “Am I just someone you want to take to bed and get rid of the following morning?”

“No, of course n—” Lenny began.

But Sheila was beyond listening to anything he said. “My mother warned me about men like you. I should have listened!”

“Pardon?” The ghost spoke much more softly in Lenny's ear.

“I'm in the middle of something here,” Lenny whispered back. “What do you want?”

“You don't have to be in the middle,” the ghost insisted. “The swami saw a way out of this.”

The swami? Lenny did his best to tune out Sheila's continuing rant. What had Swami Phil said about controlling the situation? What the heck. It was worth a try.

“Are you even listening to me?” Sheila demanded.

Lenny snapped his fingers.

The anger drained from Sheila's face. “Oh?” she said with a smile. “Well, I'm glad that's settled.”

It was? Lenny did his best to remain calm. Maybe they could get back to revisiting what actually happened, and Lenny could discover the secrets of his past.

“So what should we do today?” Sheila continued. “You promised to show me your stamp collection.”

He had, hadn't he? Now he was getting back to the past he remembered. He seldom showed his stamps to anyone. This just proved how serious his feelings for Sheila had been.

“Do you want to look at them now?” he asked. “Aren't you hungry?”

Sheila stepped closer to him. “I'm more curious than hungry. Your stamps are so important to you. Why don't you tell me a little bit about them?” She gently rubbed his shoulder. “And then we can think of something else to do.”

“Okay,” Lenny agreed quickly. He had to concentrate, really concentrate, on what had actually happened. “I'll just show you a couple of my prizes.” He walked over to the closet to retrieve the three-ring binders.

“Remember the stamps!” The ghost was shouting again.

“You were telling me about a first day cover?” Sheila said softly.

He supposed he must have. It was the most valuable part of his collection, the 1934 red-and-blue Moldavian Lindbergh stamp with the red ink inverted. Only seven of these first day covers were known to exist, the few the post office had sent out before they realized their error. And, at the age of eight, Lenny had found one.

“When did you first notice your gift?” the ghost whispered in his ear.

Lenny paused to think as he opened the closet door. The ghost asked an interesting question. He had no knowledge of his gift when he was really young. But later, sometime in grade school, small, odd things began to happen. He remembered trying to tell his mother about the singing frog he'd discovered. And the things that followed the frog. His mother alternately thought he had an overactive imagination or just wanted attention. After a while, she told him she didn't want to hear any more of his stories. His father just got angry and told him to pay more attention to his homework. So Lenny started keeping the strange happenings to himself. And, after a while, he sometimes thought they might be in his imagination as well.

Sheila had asked to see the first day cover. Remember the stamps! It was the same first day cover that Sheila had stolen two years later. And the same cover, the ghost suggested, that may have been the first of the many unlikely things that happened in his life.

“You're my lover! You're my lover!” A jaunty pop song erupted from Sheila's purse, where she had left it in the living room. Lenny recognized the song as one of the ringtones on Sheila's cell phone.

“Excuse me a second.” She walked into the other room and retrieved her phone.

“Hello?” Sheila listened for a moment. “Oh, I totally forgot.” She paused for a reply. “Well, I'm not at home.” Another moment. “If you really feel it's necessary.” She gave the caller the address of Lenny's building. “Fine. Pick me up out front in half an hour.”

Sheila tossed her phone back in her purse. “I have to get dressed. That was my parents. We'll have to admire your stamps some other time.”

This was altogether wrong. Sheila hadn't been talking to her parents back at the time she and Lenny were first together—or so she had said. She certainly never got a call from them at his apartment. At this point in the
real
past, hadn't he just shown her the stamps? She had oohed and ahhed over each one, maybe showing a bit more enthusiasm than she had felt. But Lenny had been in the throes of young love and could see no wrong.

Did this change mean something? Was his gift trying to tell him something even now?

“Don't worry,” she called to Lenny over her shoulder. “I'll meet them downstairs.” She went back into the bedroom to put her clothes on.

But he had to show her the stamps. His interaction with Sheila was the purpose of his being here.

“Do you really have to go?” he called.

“They need me,” she said from the other room. “It's a family thing.”

What would a Foo family gathering look like? Images popped into Lenny's head. Dividing up the spoils of their secret accounts? Getting together their plans for world domination? Lenny decided he didn't want to know. He felt like events were spiraling beyond his control. And this time, he didn't need his ghostly guide to tell him what to do.

Lenny snapped his fingers.

He was sitting next to Sheila on his couch, his stamp collection spread on the coffee table before him.

That's more like it
, Lenny thought. He turned to Sheila.

“So what do you think?'

She smiled down at the open binders. “I can see why these are so important to you. The foreign stamps are beautiful.”

She looked at Lenny. “Except I wonder about that one very valuable stamp.”

“You mean the first day cover?” Lenny had hoped this would come up.

“How did you find that again?”

“It was stuck in the middle of a bundle of newspapers. Somebody had left them in the basement of our apartment building, right next to the trash cans. I needed some newspapers for a school project. I opened the bundle, and there it was.”

“What incredible luck.” Sheila smiled at him. “It just shows how lucky you are. Think of all the things you can do!”