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West, still perched on the dresser directly in front of me, stares down at my despondent shape. “You have the confidence to do this. Sure, you’ve got some jitters. Everyone’s got them, especially on first dates. You have no idea what to expect. What if you realize you don’t like him as much as you thought you did?”
“Impossible.”
“Or what if he makes you feel so comfortable, you realize all of this panicking was for nothing? Just give it time. Break the ice. Go on the date and be yourself.”
I stare at the floor. Be yourself. Everyone says that like it’s the easiest thing. But I’ve been alone for so long now, I have no idea what “being myself” entails. I feel like I’m the most boring person in the world.
“Hey, you’re the one who said you wanted to start over,” he reminds me. “Forget your home. Forget who you were. Just focus on what you’re gonna be. This is your shot to decide who you are, to redefine yourself.”
“I’m gonna mess it up.”
“And who cares if you do? There will be another hot barista. Hell, have you gotten a gym membership in town yet? I bet there are a hundred of them there. I bet a little Google search will find you a dozen gay bars in the area. You’ll never be without chances to find a guy.”
“But I don’t just want ‘a guy’. I want that guy. And if I screw this up, I just know there’ll never be another one like Byron.”
“Of course there will be. Griff …”
“I want you to do it.”
West freezes. “Huh?”
I lift my face and meet his eyes. “I want you to do it. The thing.”
“Thing …? What thing?”
“The body possession thing.”
A hundred thousand thoughts must invade West’s mind at that moment, because it’s as if all the air around him is pulled into a vacuum of incomprehension and complete, total oblivion. His eyes turn into glass. His mouth remains agape with unspoken words.
“It’s the only way,” I go on. “If you’re inside me, in that … that spiritual way, or whatever … you can give me that confidence to not screw this up.”
“Dude …”
“Don’t flake on me now, West. You better say yes before I lose my nerve and change my mind. I want you to do this.”
“But Griffin, I don’t know how. I told you before. What if I mess it up—”
“—and end up in my nut sack, yeah, I remember. You also mentioned there was a person you heard this from. Maybe we need to ask them how it works.”
“What? No way!”
I get up off the floor and come up to the dresser. West shrinks away from me so much, he nearly looks like he’s about to fall into the mirror at his back. “You told me no one can give you what you really want for your birthday. Here I am. Giving it to you. This is it.”
West’s face wrinkles up. “This …?”
“Life.”
He averts his eyes, the truth appearing to dawn on him. The more it mulls over in his head, the more true it seems to be—and the more terrifying.
“Just think about it. You’ll be alive again. I mean, sure, it won’t be the same at all, but … it’ll be close, I’m sure. And when else will you get this opportunity? You will be able to leave the apartment for the first time in a year. And you’ll be doing something good. Something for me.” I put my hands together. “Please? Consider it?”
“I … I just …” West lets out a cracked, half-manic laugh and slaps a hand to his forehead. “Jesus, Griffin, you’re really diving straight into it today, huh?”
“It’s my gift to you. Happy birthday.”
West meets my eyes. A moment passes. Then he drops his hand and glances toward the door. “I guess I’ll have to let the secret out of the bag, then.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Secret?”
“Yeah … the person I heard about this possession crap from.” West sighs. “This isn’t gonna be easy.”
“Why? Who was it? Who do I have to talk to?”
I take a deep breath. Then I lift my knuckles to the door and give it three soft raps.
The door swings open. Mrs. Shaheen appears with her big hair frazzled as usual, but adorned with tiny blue butterfly decorations. She’s dressed in a sparkling blue dress with ornate sleeves that hang so low, they sweep the floor.
And she looks positively elated. “Hello, neighbor.”
I blink. “Hi, Mrs. Shaheen. You look … um …”
“Radiant? I know. It’s my costume. I thought I’d give it a test run before tomorrow.”
“Oh. Nice.” I search for a compliment. “You look like a … a beautiful blue fairy, or a—”
“Sea Hag.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Sea what?”
“Sea Hag. I’m the Sea Hag. I live forever and I steal the souls of wayward sailors and singing mermaids alike.” She gently touches her hair. I notice the tiny blue ornaments aren’t butterflies, but rather little fishes and oblong fragments of coral. “My brother Haasim is a marine biologist. A distinct love for the ocean runs in the family, I suppose.”
