A Night of Passage

Then it was revealed to me (how, I do not know) that in order to complete my journey, I had to complete a few tasks. One of them was to find a place to stay until my passage would be final. I did not know how long that would be. Thankfully, I found out this morning that it would be today. My first thought was that I would visit my husband in the hospital, but that was not allowed. The rules state that one who has died must immediately depart from the presence of those closest to them. I was told that I could not be near my husband. I offered to go home but was told that I could be jeopardizing my husband's happiness by establishing our home as my final place of passage, meaning that my spirit might inhabit it on future occasions. I was asked to consider the impact of that on my husband and new loves that might inhabit our house. I was specifically told to stay away from our bed since any bed, or even bedroom that I slept in after my death and before my final passage would me unfit for lovers forever. That, Elliot, is why I would not come to your bed last night. And to ensure that my husband would have a chance for a happy life after me, I was told to release his spirit from mine by taking on a lover before my passage.

So, I seduced you in the bookstore. You didn't accidentally turn into me. I placed myself behind you and allowed you to knock me to the floor. I exposed myself to you to get your attention. And, by the way, the gentlemen that looked on? Not real, a figment of your imagination which I was able to create. Sorry I couldn't have a drink with you at your place, but no food or drink after death. My coffee mug, which I never drank from? Just an illusion.

The shower? I left it on simply to buy a little time to finish my note. And Elliot, the driver of the vehicle was Jarmon Walters, a local banker. Please let the police know. He was stone cold sober, but simply chose not to stop. Sheer arrogance. He must pay.

Finally, Dear Elliot, the sex. Besides being wonderful, it was real, at least as real as it could have been. And though my husband was a wonderful lover, I was able to do things with you that he and I have been unable to do. And, Love, you were insatiable. I think we exceeded the minimum requirements for someone in my situation. And it was lovely. And what was not real might as well have been. You were wonderful Dear Elliot.

They are here for me now. I must go. While you were reading this, I sneaked back to my room and grabbed my clothes. Didn't want to leave any evidence of my presence. The only proof of my presence will be this note, and should you try to show it to anyone, they will not believe it. The handwriting is not even my own. But at least you will know.

Please return to Amy. She is worried about you and misses you terribly. Elliot, treat her like you treated me last night. You two will be fine.

Again, if I used you inappropriately, I apologize, but I had not choice. Hope you understand. Bye Baby.

Jenna

Elliot stared at the letter, then picked up the newspaper to look at the face of the beautiful woman with whom he had made love for hours the night before. Was it real, a dream. Elliot was not sure how real it was, but he knew it was no dream. Would he ever fully understand what had happened. He doubted it.

Aware that he must get on with his day, Elliot moved toward the shower, hoping there would still be hot water. After showering and dressing, he decided to walk part of the way to the office, then grab a taxi. he was in no condition to drive. He stuffed the letter in his pocket.

About three blocks from his apartment, Elliot stopped at a phone booth. He picked up the phone directory and looked under "W". Finding the name of Jarmon Walker, he punched in the number and placed the call.

"Jarmon here," answered a gruff voice on the other end.

"Mr. Jarmon. You don't know me, but I know what you did last evening. At noon today, I intend to contact the local police to see if you have turned yourself in. If you have not, I will give them your name and all the details. The choice is yours. Good-bye."

Elliot exited the phone booth and a few steps up the street, tore the letter into small pieces and dropped it into the trash.