Between Read Free

hallucinogens last night? Really?”
    I shake my head in disappointment. “No. I wish I had, now. I wish I’d eaten more cake, too.” I frown. “I don’t know how I remember that. I can hardly remember anything. Why is that?”
    “You can see me,” he says, ignoring my question, “because I’m dead.” He adds, as though to drive the point home, “Like you.”
    A gentle feeling of sleepiness washes over me as he speaks. For a moment, the penetrating cold leaves my body and I feel warm everywhere. Then, just as quickly as the feeling came over me, it’s gone. And suddenly I recognize him.
    “I know who you are,” I tell him. The realization excites me. I want to hold on to it tightly; every new thought making me feel more steady, more in control. It’s funny; of course I know who he is. I don’t know why I didn’t remember his name immediately. He’s gone to school with me since kindergarten. “You’re Alex Berg.”
    He closes his eyes for a minute. When he opens them, his gaze calm and even, he pronounces, “That’s right.”
    “Yes. I remember you.” I can’t stop glancing at myself in the water, looking from Alex to my body, unable to feel anything but numb horror. As I’m staring, my right boot—which has been loose on my foot ever since I first saw myself—finally slips off. It fills slowly with water. And then it sinks beneath the surface with a gurgle, disappearing as I reach for it halfheartedly. In the water, my bare foot is exposed: bloated and shriveled at the same time.
    Aside from the fact that we went to school together forever, I remember something else about Alex. His face has been all over the newspapers for the past year. Last September, just after school started up again, he was riding his bike home from work after dark—he worked at the Mystic Market, just down the road from my house—when a car struck and killed him. His body was thrown into the sandy brush along the street; even though his parents reported him missing right away, he was thrown so far from the road that they didn’t actually find him for a couple of days. It wasn’t until a jogger happened to go past, noticed the smell, and decided to investigate that he was found.
    “How gross,” I whisper. Again, the thought surprises me. What is the matter with me? Aside from the obvious, it’s like there is no filter between my brain and my mouth. Be nice, Elizabeth . The poor kid is dead . Trying to correct myself, I add, “Well, you don’t look like you got hit by a car.” And he doesn’t. Aside from his mussed hair, there isn’t a mark on him.
    “You don’t look like you just drowned a few hours ago.” He pauses. “You drowned, right?”
    I shake my head. It’s the first time it’s occurred to me to wonder. “I … I don’t know what happened. I don’t even remember falling asleep. It’s like all of a sudden I woke up because I heard a noise outside.” I pause. “I couldn’t have drowned, Alex. You have to understand that. It isn’t possible. I’m a good swimmer. I mean, you know, we practically grew up at the beach.”
    “Then what happened?” he asks.
    I stare at my body. “I have no idea. I can’t remember anything. It’s like … some kind of amnesia or something.” I look at him. “Is that normal? Did it happen to you? I mean, can you remember anything from before you … died?”
    “I remember more now than I did right after I—right after it happened to me,” he says. “I’m not an expert or anything, but my guess is that it’s normal for your memory to be sort of fuzzy for a while. Think of it this way,” he explains. “People usually get amnesia after some kind of a trauma, right?”
    I shrug. “I guess so.”
    “Well, death is one hell of a trauma, isn’t it?”
    “Dead. Shit.” I bite my lip and look at him. “I’m sorry, Alex. I just can’t believe it. It’s a dream … right? I’m asleep, that’s all. You aren’t really here.”
    He stares at me. “If