“What are you doing here?” she asked, wobbling until she regained her balance.
Evidently she hadn't heard me following her amid all the noise she was making. Shocking.
I huffed impatiently. “You know why I'm here.”
She laughed, swaying. How much had she had to drink?
“Nope, not yet,” she declared. “Not done with my turn yet.” She swiped her hands down her front, succeeding in removing some dead leaves and twigs.
I stalked toward her, closing the distance between us. “This isn't a game.”
She stepped back warily. “Maybe not to you.”
“It shouldn't be to you either, stupid.” Oops, there I went being negative again. Guess it didn't matter now. “Where do you think you're going to go?”
She glanced over her shoulder, deeper into the woods. “There's got to be a through street or a highway or something… eventually.”
“Not like that.” I rolled my eyes. “I mean, you've been hanging around in the in-between for five years. How much longer do you think it will last? Another five years? Five days? All I can tell you is it won't be forever, and it's way less now that you're blowing through energy carrying her around.” I nodded toward her appropriated body.
“You're lying.”
“Nope, I'm not. I was in there once, remember? And look at me now.” I gestured down at the vague outline of my body.
Her eyes narrowed. “You're only saying that because you want me out so you can take over again.”
“You honestly think I'm going to be able to do much of anything like this?” It pained me to admit that to her.
Her smug look returned. “Then I guess we're done here.” But then she hiccuped, destroying what I'm sure she imagined was a triumphant moment.
I sighed. “Not even. Look, the girl whose body you're wearing, she has a family.”
“So?”
“So…” I resisted the urge to add “you jerk,” because I wanted to have the time to finish the conversation. “She's not a plaything. She's a real person with people who care about her. You can't just waltz around as her, doing whatever you want. They're worried about her. Thinking she's run off or been kidnapped or something.”
In fact, the image of Mrs. Turner hunched by the phone waiting for news, as she'd once sat by Lily's bedside, waiting for her daughter to show some sign of life, killed me. I hated that I wouldn't get to thank her, however indirectly, for all she'd done for me, even though she believed it was for her daughter. She… cared. Really cared. And it was, well, a nice experience, if an unfamiliar one.
Erin waved a dismissive hand. “Like you bothered with that when you were her.”
I gritted my teeth. “I did, actually.”
“Why?” she asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “What's the point?”
“The point is that in death, just like in life, not everything is about you!” The words exploded out of my mouth before I had time to consider them, and when I did… I found I believed them.
“Everyone is struggling in their own way,” I said, trying to find the words to convince her, to make her understand. “Whether you can see it or not. If you can't make things better, you have an obligation to try, at least, not to make them suck more. Got it?”
“Who says?” she demanded. “God or something?”
“I don't know,” I said wearily. I could feel my energy fading, whispering in my ear that I should stop fighting and lie down. “How about human decency?”
Erin opened her mouth to protest, but I held up my hand. “All I'm saying is your choices will come back on you. Trust me.” I sat down at the base of the nearest tree and leaned against the trunk, feeling a small measure of relief.
Erin eyed me with a frown. “But I didn't get my chance,” she said in a small voice.
“Yeah. You did,” I said. “And you blew it by limboing a little too close to the edge. Sucks to be you.”
She glared at me.
“But the point is that if you're determined to stick with this… with her”—I gestured at her body—“you still have the opportunity to do the right thing for someone else. A family who never did anything to you, who never cost you any portion of your life.”
She grimaced.
Yeah. Having a corporeal form was way less of a party when you had to think of other people's feelings.
“Erin?”
She looked up startled, and I turned around to see Ed, the moonlight reflecting sharply off his glasses, stumbling through the brush toward us. Great.
“Ed? What are you doing here?” She took a step toward him and then remembered my presence and held her ground, perhaps afraid I'd take a swipe at her ankle when she walked by. And… who knows? I might have, if I could've summoned the effort.
He stopped a few feet away, putting me in between them, and cocked his head to one side. “Is that really you in there?”
“How did you find me?” she asked, unfolding her arms and then refolding them, as if she didn't know quite what to do with her body in this situation.
I could imagine. She was a twin, probably used to looking at Ed and seeing some version of herself. Not anymore. He towered over her.
