The Vicarage Bench Anthology by Mimi Barbour

Trust me, we aren’t crazy. I don’t know what occurred earlier, but the term ‘weirdly bizarre’ comes to mind. I seem to be lodged in your body, while mine is out cold.”
    “Well I don’t like it. Get out!”
    “Sure thing, no problem. Just tell me how?”
    “I’m insane. I might as well sign myself into the asylum. It’s from those monsters at school. I knew they’d do me in.”
    “You aren’t insane—a bit silly maybe, but not crazy. So stop thinking it. We have to put our heads together and figure a way out of this mess you got us into.”
    “Our heads are together, you idiot, and I’ll think any bleedin’ way I want to. Heavens, listen to me. See what you’ve done—I’ve never talked to anyone like that before in my life. You’ve gone and made me dreadfully testy.”
    “You’re testy? I’m fu…”
    “Don’t you even think that in my head. There’ll be no swearing, or I’ll shut you off somehow. Do you understand me?”
    “Fine, sorry. Think about it, though. I’m stuck in here with you, but my body is in trouble, and I have no idea what to do or how to get back into it. Maybe we’re both mad.”
    “I don’t see how I can help you. Imagine me trying to explain to anyone that you’ve left your collapsed body and decided to roommate in mine.” She chortled, sounding like a witch. A woman sitting next to her, moved. “Crikey, I’ll be locked up, for sure.”
    It was amazing how clearly defined his remarks were from her own. Having a conversation with another person inside her mind swiftly became as comfortable as talking on a phone to a voice heard from inside a receiver.
    “There must be a specialist we can talk to. Someone who could help us! You have to try.”
    “Me? Why me? I’m not the one who’s vacated a perfectly good body. You talk to someone. You try to explain your predicament. I’m out of it.” Her innate tendency to stay away from the spotlight triggered her resistance.
    “Wait a minute, don’t do that. Don’t shut down. I need you to help me explain.”
    “I can’t explain what I don’t understand. For heaven’s sake, I did nothing.” Snivels and sniffs burst forth as her lips quivered and her control wavered.
    “Stop it! Don’t you dare cry! I can’t stand blubbering women.”
    “I’m not crying. I’m scared. I don’t understand what’s happened to us.”
    “I know. I can’t figure it out, either. Neither of us did anything to instigate this mess. Let me think on it for a while, before we draw any attention to ourselves.”
    “Right! I don’t want to be locked up in a padded cell. Especially if you insist on tagging along.” Her backbone stiffened. The posture, and all it represented, gave her courage.
    “Like I have a choice?” His droll sarcasm broke through her reserve. Her face crumpled and a small grin appeared.
    “Miss Temple,” called the vicar, bustling towards her. “The doctor would like to see you now.”
    She shot to her feet. “About Mr. Parks? How is he doing?” God, she hoped he’d started to come around, so she could say goodbye to her inner guest.
    The vicar patted her clenched hands. “They’re examining him now, but it seems to be a quandary all around. So far, they can’t find any reasons for him to be in this state. Can you come this way, and I’ll take you to the doctor’s office. They have a few questions for you, as well. I’m sorry I must leave you here alone, Carrie. I have evening services at the church.”
    “Of course, Vicar. I’m thankful you came along when you did. You’ve been a wonderful help.” She walked slowly at his side, feeling surprisingly weighted down.
    “Busybody, you mean.”
    “Wonderful help. I’m so grateful.” She reiterated in an argumentative voice.
    “I did hear you the first time, my dear. I was pleased to be of assistance. If you should have need of me in the days ahead, you’re welcome to call at the church or the vicarage.”
    Taking his proffered hand, she squeezed