Freudian Slip

“Precisely. Then you would assume it to be so—that she was depressed. And let’s say it said she was destined to live the rest of her life alone and lonely. Well, you’d hardly work to get her a new trustworthy boyfriend, would you now? No, you’d see the case file, assume it was her fate, and it would be a self-fulfilling prophecy for poor Kate. You’d tell her it was useless to look for love again. But if instead you knew nothing about her story and had to intuit it and learn it fresh, then, frankly, anything could happen—and in this world it often does.”

“So in other words, your Boss doesn’t believe in predestination.”

Gus’s eyes opened wide. “Who knew you were aware of such a word? Your SAT scores give no indication of that sort of vocabulary.”

“I was stoned when I took them. All right, Gus, so what do I do?” Julian looked at Kate crying and inexplicably wanted to give her a hug, which he knew was futile since she couldn’t see or feel him. Not to mention he wasn’t the hugging type.

“Don’t know, my boy. Up to you to figure it out. Well…I’m off.”

“Hold it!” Julian grabbed Gus’s arm. “You’re off? You’re God damn off?”

“You wouldn’t damn Her if you knew what’s good for you.”

“But you can’t leave me here. You can’t possibly leave me here, Gus!” Julian heard the panic in his own voice.

“But I have other cases.”

“Well, before you traipse off to the next friggin’ coma, what if I need you? I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I don’t know the rules. I don’t know anything, but that this chick has had a really bad day.”

“I’ll check in from time to time.”

“But—”

“Julian, the Boss wouldn’t have entrusted Kate to you if She thought you couldn’t handle it. She is all-knowing. You’ll be fine.”

“No, I won’t be fine. You tell this Boss of yours I am not happy.”

Gus laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well, that attitude may get you a hot table and a complimentary bottle of vodka at the latest restaurant in the Hamptons, and it may even get you a shag with a porn star, but that ‘famous DJ’ attitude of yours doesn’t do anything for the Boss. She really hates star trips. If you only knew what awaited a certain Hollywood starlet unless she shapes up.”

“Star trips? You call not wanting to be left alone as a disembodied voice in some strange girl’s apartment, having no idea what the hell to do a star trip?”

“Julian, my dear young man, you may not like this, but it’s your job, and for now, it is simply what you have to do.”

“And what if I don’t? What if I just leave and go wander around the city? Go hang out with some other…spirits? Go get drunk? I don’t know. What if I just don’t?”

Gus removed his monocle. He sighed. He took out the neat little polka-dotted pocket square that he had tucked into his suit and unfolded it, cleaned his monocle, put it back on, refolded his pocket square precisely and returned it to his pocket.

“Well?” Julian asked impatiently.

Gus clasped his hands together. “I didn’t want to have to get…tough with you. But I’m afraid you just aren’t getting it. There are two outcomes if you die. Go up. Go down. That’s it, my young man. Your score sheet with the Boss doesn’t have very much on the Good Side. However, there is much on the bad side. An endless array of crimes and misdemeanors, so to speak.”

“What do you mean? A score sheet?”

“Heavenly Accounting. It’s a huge department. More employees there than almost anywhere. A lot of CPAs end up working there. All the anal-retentives do also. The Heavenly Accounting department does very meticulous work. You have a file, just as Kate does. Just as I do. The filing system alone is one of the most magnificent works of organizational genius ever invented, thanks to Luca Pacioli.”

“Who?”

“A friend of da Vinci. The father of modern-day double-entry accounting. Your file, Julian, has very, very, very few entries on the good side. I even had Pacioli himself double-check it. If you look at it as an accounting system, your good side is in arrears. In the red. Your bad side…one of the thickest on record.”

“Gimme a break. What about someone like Hitler?”

“Was there any doubt as to which direction he would go?”

“No. I suppose not.”

“Julian, if you accomplish this, if you do what you are asked, and do it well, it will erase a tremendous amount on your bad side. It won’t balance your books, so to speak, but…if you don’t, I’m afraid it will reflect badly with the Boss. Now, I can’t force you to do anything. That’s what free will is. You have free will, even in Neither Here Nor There. But as your Guide, I am urging you to consider what I am saying very carefully.”

Julian stared at Gus. He had never, until today, thought about death. That wasn’t entirely true. He had thought about it a couple of times after he drove while drunk and woke up the next day unsure of how he got home. He had a couple of times when he knew he had shot up too much heroin. When he mixed too many drugs. He had thought about it and brushed the thought away. Death was far away. Far away. Beyond that, he hadn’t thought of going anywhere when he died. Not Heaven. Not Hell. He didn’t believe in either. He thought when you died, you became worm meat. Nothing more. Nothing less. But now, faced with actually going to Hell?

“All right. So that’s it? I just hang out here. With her. The crying chick.”

“Yes, and try to discern what she needs to do.”

“Do I get to see her naked?”

Gus stared at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question before.”

“Well, do I? I mean, if I’m here, can I watch her take a shower? Can I watch her get dressed in the morning?”

“I suppose so,” Gus said, annoyance in his voice. “But that really shouldn’t be your goal.”

“Well, if you’re leaving me here, then I’m lookin’ at her naked.”

“Fine,” said Gus. “I’ll inform the Boss.” He shook his head.

“Fine. You do that.”

“I will.”

With that, Gus disappeared.

Julian was irritated. Who the hell did this Boss think She was? Just depositing him here like this? Screw it. He didn’t want to go to Hell. He didn’t want to go to Heaven, either. And what? Play a harp? What he wanted was to be back in his body. But for the moment, that looked like it was out of the question. However, that didn’t mean he knew what to do in the meantime. He looked at Kate. “Now what?”

He began to closely examine her apartment. It was a very small one-bedroom, though it had floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, with crown molding and hardwood floors. A nonworking white-brick fireplace flanked one wall. At least Julian assumed it was nonworking as there wasn’t a speck of soot anywhere on its hearth. On the fireplace mantle were a half dozen pictures in frames, all of an older man and a little girl. Julian walked closer to the pictures. In every snapshot, the little girl was smiling, her hair in pigtails or braids, her dimples showing.

“This is you,” he said to Kate. “And this must be your dad.” She didn’t react. Julian looked at the pictures again. Her father was tall, with dark hair, a little bit of gray at the temples. He had brown eyes and a big smile, just the slightest hint of a smirk, like he knew an inside joke he just had to tell you. Over to the left was a picture of her father in a fireman’s dress uniform. Ladder 10.

“Is this how he died?” Julian asked, remembering her whispered prayer. She told God that her father was dead. “Did he die in a fire?”

Julian walked over to the couch, near where Kate lay on the floor, sniffling.

“My father used to beat the crap out of me,” he said. He stood over her, looking down, trying to fathom what was in her mind. He was hoping that being in Neither Here Nor There would gain him some sort of psychic power. Then he could figure out all her problems, go back to his body, and hopefully go home. To the living. But he found he had no idea what she was thinking. He had no special powers. “My dad was a prick. Nothing like your dad, I suppose. He looks like a good guy in the pictures. You’re lucky. I mean, he may be dead, but while he was here, he loved you. Right?” He was just guessing, filling in the blanks. But she had so many pictures of him. She missed him. He had no pictures of his father anywhere. So her dad must have loved her.

Julian sat down and leaned back on the velour rollback couch. He scanned the ceiling, hoping for a cue from someone celestial—a guardian angel or something. “Now what? Now what? What the hell does ‘discern what she needs to do’ mean? Christ, I miss my life. I even miss my obnoxious sidekick, Frank. I wonder how he’s doing. I wonder if my mother and father even bothered to come to the hospital.”