Harriet?
Good morning, darling.
Yes, good morning. Last night, as you were falling asleep, and before I went to wherever it is I go when you’re “not here”, I saw Bill Prescott wander through our living room. His eyes met mine, Harriet. He didn’t say a word, but I know he saw me.
That’s very likely because he died last night, Martin. Massive heart attack. Muriel is beside herself. She always thought he was in terrific shape. The whole town knows how he used to eat when she wasn’t around. Poor guy. Only fifty-one. Have you seen him again, Martin?
No, not again.
Well, he must have been passing through. No pun intended, dear. Isn’t he the first of your kind you’ve seen since you died?
Yes and it’s still weird to hear you say that. Even though I can’t pick up a bloody coffee mug, it’s still hard to wrap my mind around.
I do hope he passed peacefully.
He looked more confused than in pain, Harriet. As though he didn’t know the next step. I wonder why he’s not stuck with Muriel, like I’m stu…
Stuck with me, Martin? Is that what you were going to say?
You know I didn’t mean it like that. I mean’t stuck here, in this earthly plane. Seems there should have been a light by now. Some ethereal taxi service or something.
Perhaps Bill and Muriel had finished all their business. Perhaps he was truly done with life.
It’s a bit like waiting for the other shoe to drop though, Harriet. Like as though one particular thing must happen for me to move on and we’re completely in the dark as to what that might be.
You know what, Martin?
What, Dear?
I’m rather glad you haven’t moved on just yet. I’m not sure I’m ready to wake up and you’re gone.
Thank you Harriet. That means the world to me to hear you say that.
Yes, well. Don’t get used to it.
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LIFE on the HALF SHELL 