Touchdown (12 page)

Goldie watched as Avner ran his fingers through his black mop of curls. “I just need to find that set of dishes.”

Mindy held up a dish. “You mean this one?”

“Yeah!” Avner nodded. “Wow, I was looking right at it and I didn't even see it.”

Goldie glared. “Kind of like how you guys are looking right at me and you don't see me,” she muttered—not that it would have made any difference.

“That's all right.” Mindy grinned. “Being absentminded isn't such a big flaw.”

“Yes, it is.” Goldie rolled her eyes. Avner's airiness had irritated her to no end.

Mindy glanced at her watch, the one that Goldie had bought her as a Sweet Sixteen present, and turned to Avner. “Look, it's already 10:30. We have to get to the mall soon if we want to beat the Sunday crowds.”

Charlie turned to Goldie and tapped his watch. “Have you seen enough?”

Goldie shrugged. “I guess I can go back to now,” she said sadly as she watched the car pull away. “I just can't believe she's giving away those Louboutins.”

Goldie checked out her surroundings. God, it felt nice to be in a body again. And at least this one felt like it was fit as a fiddle. She rubbed her eyes and rose from the couch that stunk like cheap perfume and beer.

She looked at her hands. Man hands. They were big and strong and callused. She couldn't believe that anyone with such power and strength could have ever not wanted it. What a pity, she mused, that he didn't love his life enough to fight for it.

Goldie put the hands on her face and nearly combusted. His skin. She felt dry patches, a little flaking. This guy obviously wasn't into exfoliating and moisturizing. So much hair!

She couldn't help the yelp that came out of her mouth. Goldie cursed silently. She had no idea where she was and who she was with, and didn't want to attract any undue attention. But apparently her cry had alerted someone on the floor above, because Goldie could hear the sound of feet padding down the basement steps.

“Claybear?”

An athletic blonde in a Victoria's Secret hoodie and black leggings approached the hunk of muscle Goldie presumed was Clay.

Goldie nodded in response. “I'm here. That's me. I'm most definitely Claybear. I'm most certainly not a girl, and I'm definitely not from Long Island.” Goldie placed her hands on Clay's hips—wait, they were her hips now. “I'm Claybear. Uh huh, I'm a bear, all right.”

The girl broke into a relieved smile. “Oh good, you're okay. You had me worried after last night. That mechanic friend of yours dropped you off here at my sorority house to get your car keys and you just conked right out on the couch! I don't know where your keys are, Clay.”

Goldie couldn't help but stare at the girl's even, gleaming white teeth. She wondered what her whitening method was. She thought back to that scene in the park with that girl Leigh—Leigh had said something about a Carolyn Dampeer. Clay's girlfriend. This must be her. “To be honest, I don't remember a thing,” Goldie improvised.

Goldie took the opportunity to look into the bathroom mirror. A broad face with sandy blond stubble and piercing yet tired blue eyes looked back at her. Goldie ran her hands over her chin. “God, I'm hairy,” she muttered. Back when she'd had her own body, it was always well maintained and hairless. It was repulsive, yet oddly freeing, to have hair growing out of her face.

Goldie took some cleanser and lathered it up, washing her face, happy to finally treat this guy's long-abused pores to some tender loving care. As she did, she couldn't help but notice Carolyn's well-stocked and well-kept makeup box. Lotions and perfumes were lined up in neat rows, and all the colors of the rainbow were present in Carolyn's nail polish display. “Holy cow, Carolyn, you have like the entire Essie nail polish Resort Collection!”

Goldie gingerly fingered a creamy pink color. Ballet Slippers—that was the last color on her nails before the accident—soft and refined, perfect for a wedding . “I love this one,” she said.

Carolyn gave Goldie a funny look. “Claybear, since when do you wear nail polish?”

“Oh—I don't actually wear it, of course. I just like looking at the colors. It's like art, you know?”

Carolyn nodded. “I mean, nail polish is like paint—so I guess that makes sense.” She smiled. “I like that, Claybear. Nail polish is art. Such a sophisticated way of looking at it.”

She threw her arms around Goldie in another bone-crushing, claustrophobic hug. “You continue to astound me with your intelligence, Clay.” She went to the cupboard on the top of the sink. “Okay, Claybear! Let me show you this eye cream. It's to die for.”

Goldie winced. Sore spot.

She dried off then followed Carolyn, and sat down on the couch.

Carolyn laced her hands in Goldie's. “So you don't remember anything about last night?”

“Forget last night—I don't even know who I am anymore!”

“That's okay,” Carolyn said, looking into the eyes of the person she thought was her boyfriend. “That could happen from so much partying. So I'll remind you. You're handsome, a star football player, and those pranks you pull with the guys always make me laugh. Though I feel like we never talk, so I just wanted to let you know that if you ever wanted to like, have a conversation—you can. I'm here for you.”

“You don't talk enough?” Goldie felt outraged. “Why, that's terrible! How do you stand for it?”

Carolyn looked confused.

“I wouldn't stand for such behavior for even a minute. A pretty girl like you should not have to feel lonely in a relationship.”

“I know,” Carolyn said and clasped Goldie's hand to her heart. “I just never knew how to tell you that.”

Goldie withdrew her hand from Carolyn's grasp. “Sweetie, you need a guy who wants to hear what you have to say.”

“Really?” Goldie teared up. “Why, Clay, I never knew this side of you.”

Goldie smiled. “I have many sides to me. You'd be surprised.”

“So you just want to, like, talk to me? That's so . . . sensitive.”

“Sure.” Goldie nodded. “I love talking. I once won a contest where—”

Carolyn interrupted. “Look, if you're having a change of heart because of all the games, I can take it.”

“Take what?” Goldie asked, genuinely confused.

Carolyn exhaled. “I know this year has been really, really crazy and pressured for you, and that's why we haven't been together for a while . . . ” She grabbed Goldie's hand. “Last night you were so out of it that I freaked. I guess I was out of it, too . . . you can tell me anything. I want to be supportive.”

Goldie wondered how on earth a Claybear would answer. She thought of a line she had heard so many times coming out of a few of her annoying exes. “How about, I just need some space?”

Carolyn stood up from the couch, a hurt expression suddenly spreading over her face.

Maybe this Clay guy had some problems, but Goldie still couldn't understand why in the world he was ambivalent about his life. He even had a pretty girlfriend who seemed so sweet. Most guys would cherish a girl like Carolyn. Maybe she wasn't for him, though?

“Listen, I have to tell you something, Carolyn.”

Carolyn nodded and sat back down, leaning in closer. She was practically salivating over Goldie's shoulder. Ugh. She was pretty, but this girl had no concept of personal space.

“Would you mind?” Goldie cleared her throat and moved away from Carolyn. Annoyed, she forgot about channeling Clay. “Nothing personal, but I don't like being touched, sweetie. Not at all.”

“Come again?”

Goldie continued. “I find your invasion of my space, like, a bit much. Germs and everything.”

Carolyn seemed like she'd just been sucker-punched. “Why? Was it something I did?”

“Hey,” Goldie continued. “It's not that there's anything wrong. It's not you, it's me.”

Carolyn raised her eyebrows. “I've heard that before.”

“No, really. Touching you is just not interesting to me right now, Carolyn.”

Carolyn's eyes widened. After a moment, she replied, “Well, that explains a lot. You know that most guys can't resist me.” She winked and tossed her frizz-free hair. “It's like I douse myself in love potion or something—you wouldn't believe how many guys just randomly come on to me . . . like at the post office, the doctor's office—even church, for goodness sake. It gets awkward.”

Goldie noticed the aquamarine nail polish Carolyn was wearing and wondered what shade it was.

Carolyn shook her head and continued. “There's only one explanation: you really are under a lot of pressure!”

“I am.” Goldie smiled. “You deserve to be happy with a guy who has time for you and appreciates you for who you are. But maybe we can go shopping together sometime? You have lovely taste.”

“Sure. Why not,” Carolyn said. “My friend, Ruthie, she's like so into science—it's so weird. But anyway, she told me the biology behind attraction and I guess I have good eggs or something. Guys can smell it, you know? It's called pherefomes. So I have nothing to worry about!”

“Pheromones,” Goldie corrected her, but all this talk about good eggs made her thoughts take a different path—with a pang, she realized for the first time that she would never carry a child. Her human life, and all that came with it, was over.

“But I'm okay with just shopping and talking to you, Clay. As long as people think we're still together so it isn't awkward in front of my girls. You'll still take me to the parties, right?”

Goldie suddenly worried that she might be putting Clay into a situation that he might not like when he awoke. And if he got angry with her, it would be nearly impossible to convince him to get to New York.

“Poor Goldie,” a voice said behind her.

Goldie spun around in the hall where she had been practicing salsa dancing with Carolyn. “Oh it's you, Charlie. Where have you been? I think I can get used to living in his body. It's more cumbersome, granted, but I'm having a great time . . . ”

“Are you really?” he asked, adjusting his cufflinks.

“I told you he gave me his body.” Goldie waved her hands. “Don't make out like I'm doing something wrong.”

Charlie straightened his tie. “You aren't?”

“I'm fixing this poor boy's life! He'll have Carolyn to go shopping with and the best skin ever by the time I'm done. Then he'll surely agree to help me get Avner back!”

“Carolyn isn't Clay's soul mate. And Avner isn't yours. Also, you ought to reconsider using Carolyn as your buddy . . . ”

Goldie's eyes widened. “You're such a party pooper! Why can't you just butt out of my business?”

Charlie gave her wry smile. “Listen, cookie, hate to interrupt your fun, but I'm here with a message.”

Goldie crossed her arms. “What now?”

“They're giving you one week. One week before they'll hear you at the next tribunal. And you bet you're going to be there.”

Goldie looked panicked. “What? How am I supposed to get this guy to go to New York in one week?”

“I suppose you could start by not wasting time on—” Charlie looked closely at the body Goldie was attached to. “My God, what have you done to the poor boy? You've given him a makeover?”

“I thought he'd be happy—”

“No, you didn't. You're just enjoying the pleasures of earth—”

“Charlie, kindly don't judge. I really missed my mani/pedis, coffees, tanning, and Zumba.”

Charlie stared at her. “You've gotten too attached to the luxuries of this life—it will be hard to adjust to living an eternity of spirituality and love.”

Goldie stood close to him and their eyes locked. “But who would I love in heaven?”

Charlie paused. “I could think of someone,” he said quietly.

She gazed into his eyes. “So what do you want me to do?” I don't even know what Mindy and Avner are up to.”

“I'll take you to see them,” he said. “Brace yourself.”

“For what?”

Charlie looked at her. “The spirit world isn't limited by human time. Every time you jump, more time passes for the living.”

“So?”

“People heal and move on, when it takes spirits longer.”

“OK,” Goldie agreed hesitantly.

“I can help you detach from the boy for a bit before you'll snap back. Just hold my hands and stick with me.”

• • •

It was beginning to rain when Mindy and Avner left the mall.

“Wow, so that's it?” Avner said, sticking his hands into his pockets.

Mindy nodded. “Yup. All of Goldie's dishes have been returned. Though we've barely even begun to sift through her shoes.”

Charlie stood back as Goldie began walking behind them. “I can't believe you guys just returned it all. It took me months to get my hands on those dishes. Months!”

Avner yawned and glanced at his watch. “Jeez, Mindy. It's already almost five. We spent all day in that place!”

Mindy laughed. “Goldie would not appreciate you calling the mall ‘that place.' To her it's sacrosanct, like a place of worship.”

Goldie vigorously nodded. At least Mindy understood her—even if she was also making fun of her.

Avner shook his head. “I never understood that about her. I hate shopping. I hate the mall.” He turned to Mindy. “I only got through the shock of her loss because I had you to help me with it.”

“Of course,” Mindy said. “You know, I think you're the only person who knew Goldie like I did. She didn't get along with most people.”

Avner grew solemn. “She was a tough cookie. But she had a good heart. I miss her.”

Mindy's eyes welled up. “Me too.”

Goldie didn't like to see her sister cry, but she felt that it was appropriate considering the circumstances.