MB: Sounds like you've got the perfect future. TP: Without question.
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"Stop doing that!" Teagan shouted, ripping her arm out of the ghost's grip as she became solid again. "Haven't you ever heard of 'no means no'?"
"A ghost's gotta do what a ghost's gotta do," the woman replied blithely.
"Where the hell are we now?" Teagan asked. Then she finally took a second to look around. Her mouth fell open and she gasped. "Whoa. This place is gorgeous."
She was standing in the center of a huge loft apartment. Windows stretched from the gleaming blond wood floor all the way up to the ceiling two stories above, which was inlaid with intricate gold sheeting. A fireplace was built into an exposed brick wall, surrounded by plush white couches that were strewn with dozens of colorful throw pillows. Asymmetrical shelving lined the walls with pieces of modern pottery and blown glass set one to a shelf, like they were on display at a museum. Teagan stepped tentatively toward the
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windows and looked out across Central Park, in New York City. Down below, cabs lined up at a red light and joggers traversed the paths. Teagan salivated. This was exactly how she had always dreamed of living. If she had her checkbook on her, she would have whipped it out right then and made an offer.
"Where are we?" she asked, pulling the strap of her bag up on her shoulder as she turned to the ghost.
A door slammed and Teagan jumped.
"You already know what I want!" someone shouted, her voice echoing off the walls. "All you have to do now is say, Yes, miss. I'll see right to it1' and this conversation is officially over!"
The ghost sighed and sat down on a white leather bench as another woman stalked into the room, her high heels click clacking against the floor. She wore shiny white capri pants and a black tank top that clung to her scrawny frame. She lifted her head and tossed her hair back as she shouted at the top of her lungs. A vein in the center of her forehead bulged like it was fit to pop. Teagan recognized her instantly.
"Holy crap. That's you," Teagan said, her eyes wide. "This is your place?"
"Yep," the ghost said, pressing her hands into the bench at her sides. She looked tense. Like she would rather be anywhere but here. Teagan had been experiencing that very sensation all night long.
"Who're you yelling at?" Teagan asked, looking around.
"Oh, that's my business manager," the ghost said.
"Where?"
"She's on the phone," the ghost said. "Oh yeah, right. In the future all you need is a little pod in your ear. You say the name of the person you want to call out loud and it connects you. You can imagine the confusion it causes on the streets."
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"Wow," Teagan said as the woman continued to shout. She stormed right past them and into the kitchen at the far end of the apartment. "So you're, like, filthy rich."
"I was," the ghost said. "Come on."
The ghost got up and Teagan followed her into an immense kitchen. Modern appliances gleamed in the sunlight. The white tile was spotless. A glass bowl of ripe fruit sat in the center of a long glass table. Just looking at it made Teagan's stomach grumble.
"Unbelievable. I should fire that psycho," the woman said, ripping open the refrigerator door.
"Are you still on the phone?" Teagan asked.
"No. The call was terminated," the ghost said. "See what I mean about the confusion?"
The woman pulled out a nutrition bar of some kind and ripped open the brown wrapper. She stuffed the end of the bar in her mouth but had to wrench it back and forth before a piece finally tore off between her teeth. Teagan made a face. Whatever that thing was made out of, it didn't look appetizing. As the woman chewed --and chewed --and chewed some more, she powered up a tiny computer sitting on the counter.
The ghost walked behind her other self and gazed over her shoulder. Teagan followed. The woman was scrolling through her schedule.
Gym . . . full body wax . . . Anistoga class . . . massage . . . gym . . . Barneys wiCasey . . . gym.
"You sure work out a lot," Teagan said, impressed.
"Yeah. Kind of sucks that I died so young," the ghost joked, frowning. "All that work for nothing."
"What's Anistoga class?" Teagan asked.
"Oh, remember Jennifer Aniston?" the ghost said. "She
*
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created this whole new yoga-pilates-aerobic fusion thing and made like a kabillion dollars selling DVD's and downloads."
you're kidding."
"No. It's pretty huge," the ghost said.
Finally the woman stood up straight and swallowed. Teagan was disgusted to note that she had just finished her first and only bite of that bar. Apparently the diet snack industry hadn't come a long way.
"Call Dr. Jaber," the woman said.
"Here we go." The ghost took a deep breath and walked over to the kitchen table. She lowered herself into one of the high-backed chairs and leaned her head on her hand. Watching her other self pacing the room, she shook her head in wonder.
"What's going on?" Teagan asked.
"Just watch."
"Roseanne? I need to talk to Dr. Jaber," the woman said. "What? Oh, please. He's not at lunch and you know it. Tell him who it is!"
Teagan glanced at the ghost, her eyebrows raised. The ghost simply shrugged and rolled her eyes.
"Dr. Jaber. Yes, it is. Yes," the woman said. "I want to schedule another surgery," she said, reaching up to touch her chin. She looked at her reflection in a mirror set into the wall. "No. I'm not pleased with the results."
There was a moment of silence in which Teagan actually saw the color rise from the woman's neckline all the way up through her chin to her cheeks to her forehead.
"Wait a minute! Who the hell do you think you are? You're the one who screwed it up! You can't tell me not to -- was Her eyes bulged as the doctor on the other end of the line spoke.
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"I don't care if you think it's dangerous! I want it done and I want it done next week!"
The woman slammed her hands down on the counter, causing the cutlery inside a drawer to rattle.
"Look. Look! Hey! I'm talking here!" she shouted. "I am paying you, am I not? This is your job, is it not?" She waited a moment. "Good, then schedule it!"
The woman ripped a small black pod out of her ear and held it to her mouth. "Terminate call!" she screamed. Then she hurled the pod across the room, where it bounced against the window and rolled underneath a cabinet.
"Yeah, you don't have to throw it. You really just need to say 'terminate call1'" the ghost said, seeing Teagan's look of confusion.
Teagan blew out a breath and leaned back against the wall as the woman grabbed her nutrition bar and stalked out of the kitchen.
"No offense, ghost, but you were kind of a bitch," she said.
"Can't argue with you there," the ghost said.
Teagan looked at her and waited.
"What?" the ghost asked.
Teagan shrugged. "So ... are you gonna tell me that this is somehow my fault too?"
"Omigod! Have you really not figured this out yet?" the ghost said, dropping her hands at her sides dramatically.
"What?" Teagan asked.
"It's a wonder I ever made it through high school," the woman said. She slid forward on her chair and looked up at Teagan, staring into her eyes. "I am you, Teagan. You are me."
An uneasy sense of recognition shot through Teagan, but she scoffed. "Please. That's not possible."
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"Before tonight would you have believed that anything you've seen was possible?" the ghost asked patiently.
"But you can't be me!" Teagan said, pushing herself away from the wall. Her mind reeled as her heart went into spastic palpitations. "You . . . you don't look anything like me!"
"Three chin surgeries, a nose job, and a lot of lipo can change a person," the ghost said.
"A ... a nose job?" Teagan asked, touching her face. "But I like my nose."
"
Until some loser frat boy tells you it's perfectly triangular your senior year at college," the ghost said, leaning back in her chair. "You don't react very well to that."
Teagan covered her nose with her hand. She stared at the ghost, trying not to see the resemblance, but now she couldn't avoid it. Those eyes were obviously hers. And she had that tiny birthmark next to her right ear. And the infinitesimal dot at the top of her left ear from that ill-conceived eighth-grade piercing.
But still, it was too bizarre to wrap her brain around. She couldn't have been talking to herself all night. The idea was just too freaky. Even considering everything that had happened.
"I want proof," Teagan said, struggling to remain calm.
The woman got up and walked over to a leather purse sitting on the counter. Teagan felt numb as she watched the ghost rifle through it and pull out a wallet. She flipped it open and held it out. Teagan looked down at the New York State license. There was a picture of the ghost, looking pissy, and next to it was the name Teagan Lauren Phillips. It had her birth date right on it. This was, in fact, her.
Teagan gripped the countertop with her free hand. "How is this possible?"
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She dropped the wallet and turned around, trying desperately to line up everything she had seen and heard today in her mind, but none of it seemed to connect. Just thinking about it made her head hurt.
"How . . . how could you be me?" she asked, facing the ghost again. "You're, like, old. I couldn't have grown up to be you. You told me I'm already dead."
The ghost grimaced apologetically, pressing her teeth together. "Yeah, well, that was kind of a little white lie."
Teagan felt like the entire world had tilted beneath her. For a moment her vision blurred. She curled her hands into fists and willed herself not to physically implode.
"What? WHAT!!??" she screeched, not even giving herself time to be relieved. "A little white lie? You told me I was dead! How can you do that to somebody?"
The ghost backed away slightly. "Well, when you think about it, you're me, so I kind of did it to myself. And that's not so bad!"
Teagan sputtered, at a loss for words. "What? I just ... I can't. . . . How can you . . . his What did you . . . ?was
"Look, I had to tell you that you were dead or you never would have taken all of this seriously," the ghost explained. "But the good news is, you're still alive! You're just on another plane of existence. You have a chance to change almost everything you've seen tonight."
Teagan braced her hands against the countertop again and tried to breathe. I'm not dead. I'm not dead, she repeated over and over. I can still talk to my dad. I can still tell off Lindsee and Max. I can still do so many things. . . .
She was feeling lighter and headier by the second.
"I'm not dead," she said aloud, standing up straight. Her lips twitched into a smile.
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"No, you're not," the ghost said, taking her hand. "At least, not yet."
Teagan opened her eyes and found herself staring down at a corpse. The ghost's corpse, to be exact. Chin bandage and all. "Oh God!" she said, taking a couple of steps back. The corpse was lying in a silver casket, the top half of which was open. A light placed in the ceiling shone down on her face, giving her an eerie glow and highlighting her sunken cheeks. Teagan glanced up at the ghost, who was staring grimly down at her dead self.
"That's you," she said, her mouth completely dry. "I mean, it's . . . it's us. Oh God. It's me." "Yep," the ghost said blandly.
"How can you stand it?" Teagan asked, her heart pounding with fear. Why in hell would the ghost bring her here of all places?
"It is a little weird," the ghost said.
"This is too creepy," Teagan told her, gripping her purse strap with both hands. "I'm outta here."
She turned around and froze instantly in her tracks. Everything inside her seized up. The room was full of empty chairs, all lined up to face the casket. Sitting in the very first row was Teagan's father, staring bleary-eyed at the body. Next to him was Karen, who clutched his right hand in both of hers. Next to her was a young girl of about thirteen with curly blond hair and a bored expression.
"Oh my God. Dad," Teagan said, breathless. Her eyes instantly welled with tears and she spun around yet again. She
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slammed right into the ghost. "Why are you doing this to me?" she wailed. "Haven't you put me through enough already?"
The ghost didn't answer. She had gone pale and waxy, clearly having trouble with her own emotions. Teagan, being barefoot while her future self was wearing heels, found herself staring right at her chin bandage. She swallowed in disgust and as her eyes trailed down, they finally fell on the necklace that hung low on the ghost's chest. Teagan's heart slammed. She narrowed her eyes. Hanging on a silver chain was a round, clear crystal with about a zillion tiny edges. They caught the light and sent sparkling rainbows all over the room.
"Where did you ... get that?" Teagan asked, mesmerized. She had seen this necklace before. She knew this necklace.
The ghost looked her in the eye. "My father gave it to me," she said. "For my sixteenth birthday."
Teagan's eyes fluttered closed and she stumbled backward into an empty chair. Everything inside her dropped to its lowest point. Blindly she groped for her purse and pulled it onto her lap. She only opened her eyes again when she had managed to undo the clasp.
There it was. Nestled amid her hairbrush and spray gel and her extra thong. A small square box, wrapped in red paper.
Quaking like an over-caffeinated supermodel, Teagan ripped off the paper and pried open the lid of the small blue velvet box. Even though she knew what she would find, she still felt like her life was flashing before her eyes. The small round crystal her mother had worn every day of her life.
"I always thought she was buried with it," Teagan said, her eyes brimming. "I never thought I'd see it again."
The ghost reached past Teagan into her purse and pulled out the card. Teagan couldn't move but wouldn't have stopped
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her if she could. She was hypnotized by the necklace as memories of her mother came pouring back. Her mom wore this very necklace around her neck. This necklace actually lived with her mom every single day.
"Dear Teagan," the ghost read. "Your mother wanted you to have this on your sixteenth. She would have been so proud."
Teagan felt a wry laugh bubble in her throat. "At least that was what he thought this morning," she said.
Ghost Teagan scoffed as well. "Yeah."
Teagan slumped back in her chair and gazed at the casket. There was no way she could wrap her mind around all of this. She couldn't believe she was looking at her future self--her future corpse. She couldn't believe she was sitting here talking to her own ghost. How had all of this happened? And why? Teagan had never even been sure if she believed in ghosts or an afterlife. Now she found herself wondering if her mother had somehow had something to do with this. There were about five billion questions she could have asked the ghost.
Where did she end up going to college?
Did she ever get married?
Did Max and Lindsee end up in some horrible, disfiguring car crash?
But there was only one question on the tip of her tongue.
"How did we die?" she asked quietly.
Ghost Teagan pointed to her chin bandage. "Freak accident during our third chin reconstruction," she said.
Teagan's jaw dropped. She was horrified. "Was that the surgery I just watched you schedule?"
"Yep," the ghost said with a nod.
"But the doctor told you it was dangerous!" Teagan said. "Why did you do it?"
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"Well, the older I got, the more my self-image consumed me," Ghost Teagan said, crossing her arms over her chest. "All I'd been focused on for the last eight years or so was remaking myself."
"But you had to have a job. Friends. A life," Teagan said. "Right?"
"I did have a job. I worked at Calvin
Klein."
"Really?" Teagan squealed.
"Did pretty well, actually," Ghost Teagan said. "I was one of their youngest executives till I cashed in my stock options last year and retired."
"You retired so young?" Teagan said, stunned. "Why?"
"All those surgeries and workouts and treatments and nutritionists take up a lot of time," the ghost said wryly.
"Oh my God," Teagan said, slumping further. "You're a total freak."
"No. You're a total freak," the ghost said. "At least you will be if something doesn't change. No matter what I did to my body, I was never satisfied. Do you know why?"
"Why?" Teagan asked, staring at the waxy skin on the body in front of her.
"Because my problem was never on the outside. It was on the inside," Ghost Teagan said, turning in her seat. "Do you remember the first question I asked you tonight?"
Teagan closed her eyes and rubbed at her forehead, so overwhelmed she felt like she might collapse. "No."
"I asked you if you knew why you were so angry," the ghost said. "S. Do you?"
Teagan swallowed. "Um . . .was
"I'll tell you. It's because you're mad at your mom. You're mad at her for leaving you and you're mad that you never got
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to have a real family after her death," the ghost said. Teagan's insides ached. "Well, there they are," the ghost said, throwing a hand across the aisle toward Teagan's father and Karen and the odd little girl. "They're right in front of you. But if you keep pushing them away, you're never going to shed that anger."
Teagan took a deep, shaky breath and forced herself to look across the aisle at her dad and his wife. Age and sorrow had deepened the wrinkles in her father's forehead and around his mouth. He was going gray near his temples. His shoulders were slumped in grief. When he squeezed out a few tears, Teagan tore her gaze away, afraid her heart might not be able to handle it.
"Who's the girl?" she asked, checking out her lovely profile.
"That's our sister," the ghost said.
Teagan didn't know how many shocks she could take. "We have a sister?" she said.
"Yep. She's thirteen years old," Ghost Teagan said. "Cool kid, too. Not that I ever cared," she added under her breath.