Whole, p.6
Whole, page 6
“Oh, he lives here,” my father says. “This whole thing is taking a little...getting used to for him. When we told him you’d be coming, he left. I assume he’s staying with a friend.”
Huh. So this Jake dislikes me so much he couldn’t even stand the thought of seeing me again, even for a few hours. This news is a bit disconcerting considering he’s supposed to be the other half of my Jake, the man I love. Does this mean my Jake harbors some antipathy toward me too, somewhere deep down inside? I push the thought out of my mind as Jonah carries on the conversation.
“He’s an oddball,” Jonah says, perking back up. “Not much of a good time. I tried to get him to chat with me once after a strategy meeting, and he said he was busy. Then he just sat at the table re-reading old books. What fun is that?”
“He’s very...studious,” my father cuts in, trying to ease the concern I’m sure is spreading across my face. “He’s more of a thinker than a talker. Keeps to himself a lot, but he’s a good kid.”
“More like a crotchety old grandpa than a kid,” Jonah scoffs. “His personality matches the decor in this room.” Then he thinks for a second and adds, “What’s he like on Earth? Do you actually like him there?”
“I love him,” I say, without hesitating.
Neither of them respond, and we sit there awkwardly in silence, Jonah picking at his shoes again, me pushing my hair behind my ear. Finally, my father stands up and clears his throat.
“Well,” he says. “That’s probably enough for today. Jonah will take you back.”
Suddenly I feel a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. This is the first time I’ve seen my dad in twelve years. I thought he was dead. He is dead, technically. Dead in my world at least. I don’t want to leave him here. What if I never see him again?
“Dad…” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Don’t worry,” he says, curt but not uncaring. “I’m not going anywhere. Jonah will get you a cellerach ring of your own, and I’ll see you again during our strategy meeting next week.”
“Come on,” says Jonah as a large hole opens up in front of him. “Follow me.”
Chapter 8
I open my eyes to find that I’m back in the alley near the construction site, crouched behind a dumpster just as I was before we left. I guess I close my eyes involuntarily while portaling, something I do whenever I’m scared. I’ll have to work on that. Can’t be a scared little baby if I’m going to be trusted to help save the Earth from eventual destruction. I need to be brave; I tell myself. As I’m trying to get my bearings, a rat scurries across my feet, and I jump up and scream. So much for being brave. Laughter breaks out to my left and I turn my head to see Jonah, doubled over.
“It’s not funny!” I say, laughing a little myself now at the lunacy of everything that just happened. “Those things are gross.”
“He just wants to be friends,” Jonah teases me. “Don’t be such a bully.”
“Hey, what time is it?” I ask, squinting up into the sun. “We must have been gone for hours. Why isn’t it dark yet?”
“It’s the same time as when we left,” he says. “Time stops on Earth when you travel to Pearth, for the most part at least. It resets at midnight though, so if you stay the night on Pearth it will be tomorrow on Earth when you go back.” He stops to make sure I understand, but I’m completely lost. “I know,” he continues, seeing the look on my face. “The rules are all confusing. My guide just tells me when I need to go home so my family doesn’t notice I’m gone. Not that they would, anyway.”
Confusing doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s still early, maybe 9 a.m., but I feel drained, like I’ve been solving complicated math problems all day and I’m ready for bed. The mental work it takes to comprehend everything that’s just happened is exhausting, and a dull throb is starting to form in my head, right behind my eyes. I need some time to think. Alone.
“I should get back before Jake gets home from band practice,” I say to Jonah. “Do you need me to...take you somewhere? You really shouldn’t be out in the city alone you know, you’re just a kid.”
“Just a kid? Don’t worry about it Mara,” he says, laughing cynically. “I stopped being a kid when I was recruited to save the world. Just like you’ll stop being whatever you were before this too.”
“Good point,” I say, thinking it over. “I guess I’ll see you next week, then.”
“You will indeed,” he responds. “Don’t forget your ring.”
He presses the cellerach ring into my hand and turns to jog down the alley. He looks so tiny shrouded by skyscrapers, it’s hard to believe he’s so mature. I wonder what happened to him in his short life that hardened him so young, and the thought makes me sad. I stand and watch him go, just in case, until he reaches the street and disappears around the corner. I don’t care if he says he doesn’t need help, someone should be looking after him.
When he’s gone, I make a mental note to find somewhere to stash the ring so no one questions me about it, then I walk down the alley in the opposite direction, back toward the street where the construction trucks are still working, passing the rat as I go. Be brave, I say to myself, still keeping my distance. I give a little nod in his general vicinity, trying hard to hide my disgust, before jogging out into the sun.
Despite my exhaustion, it feels good to be running again. The familiarity of my feet hitting the ground, over and over, is comforting, like seeing an old friend or stepping into a therapist's office. I decide to take the long way, turning back to run along the lake again, and let my mind wander as I watch the boats bob up and down out on the water.
My father is alive, my brain tells me, again and again, as if still trying to convince me it’s true. Patrick Martin, in the flesh. He’s alive, yes, but he’s different than I remember. A bit colder and more tired, run down by time. The dad I remember was warm and caring, always laughing and telling jokes, but then again it was a long time ago, and I could be remembering only the good. This version of him is more to the point. He’s still a little flighty, though, just like when I was a kid and he jumped from odd job to odd job. I find that comforting as well, familiar.
Even at ten years old, I could tell he was more of an observer than a leader, so seeing him take such an active role in a plot to save the world feels out of character and makes me a little uneasy. I wonder if he’s killed people, like Jake did when he took out those tuxedoed men, and I shake the thought from my mind. When I was little, he wouldn’t even kill a spider, always grabbed them by their web and transferred them to the backyard instead. I want to tell my mom and Ellie about him, but I’m guessing this is not allowed. How would I even tell them without sounding like I’d lost my mind? I’d have to tell them everything, and honestly, Ellie would probably have me committed. The mental image of how she would react makes me laugh to myself and snaps me back to reality. Well, this reality at least. I was so lost in thought that I didn’t even realize how far I’d gone. I’m nearly home now, just one block away, and my heart sinks knowing I’ll have to keep this from Jake too. I don’t like lying to him—I’m not even sure I can, actually—but I guess that’s another thing I’ll have to work on.
I reach our house and walk up the front steps, hoping to have some time to shower and regroup before Jake gets home, but as I reach for the knob the door swings open and there he is, waiting to greet me.
“Hey,” I say, startled. “I thought you’d be gone at least another hour.”
“Don’t sound so excited,” he says, smiling. “Eddie broke a string so we just called it early. How was your run?”
“Good,” I say. “Enlightening.” At least it wasn’t a total lie.
He steps forward and wraps his arms around me, giving me a big squeeze, and I let myself melt into his chest, relief spreading through me. Now that he’s with me, my mind can finally rest.
“See, I told you you’re stronger than you think,” he says.
“Let’s hope so,” is all I can reply.
I use the upstairs bathroom to take a long shower, turning the temperature a little lower and letting cold water rain down over my head, too exhausted to think for once. I’m still sweaty from the muggy run and the chill feels refreshing and clears my mind. After, I dress in my usual t-shirt and jeans and head downstairs to find Jake in the kitchen, cooking up a Saturday brunch.
“That smells great,” I say as I enter the room. Even though no time had passed while I was on Pearth, it sure feels like I haven’t eaten in days. This inter-universe travel was going to take some getting used to.
“Perfect timing,” says Jake. “It’s almost ready.”
I sit down at the table as he plates the food—eggs over easy with a side of fruit and toast, all piled up on top of one another in his signature fashion. I wonder how I’m going to fill an entire day without mentioning that I just found out there’s a parallel universe where my father is still alive, that the Earth is in danger of burning to a crisp if something isn’t done in five months’ time, and that me and a bunch of other ordinary people I haven’t met are the only ones that can stop that from happening. Maybe if I keep my mouth full, I won’t be able to talk, I think as Jake comes over and sets a plate down in front of me. Shouldn’t be hard considering how starving I am.
“What’s up?” he asks. “You look...concerned.”
“Mmm?” I say, quickly shoveling eggs into my trap. “I doun knoof wha yer alking mbot.”
“Alright, slow down,” he says, laughing. “You know I can make more if you’re that hungry.”
“Ha-ha,” I feign amusement, my mouth full of eggs.
“Dash called me today,” he continues. “When I was at band practice.”
“Oh yeah?” I say, happy for the change of subject. “What did he want?”
“He and Kaitlin are going to check out that new club downtown tonight now that she’s twenty-one. Wanted to know if we wanted to come. I told him we’d pass, obviously.”
Normally I would never set foot in a downtown club. The sleazy guys, watered down drinks, and aggressive bouncers weren’t really my scene, and the only club appropriate clothing I owned was the dress I just bought with Ellie. But a loud bar with Kaitlin doing all the talking sounded like just what I needed today.
“Really?” I say, trying to sound indifferent. I pretend to think it over a bit then follow up a little too certainly with, “That might be fun, actually. I think we should go.”
“Um, I’m sorry, what?” he says, taking a bite of eggs, unconvinced. “You hate clubs.”
“I don’t hate clubs,” I reply, barely convincing. “And besides, Ellie loves any excuse to use her fake ID, and I haven’t seen her in a while. Maybe she’ll want to tag along.”
“Alright,” he says slowly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ll go if you want to.” Then a smile appears on his face like he just had a realization. “Does this mean I get to see you in that blue dress again?”
***
When I called to invite Ellie, she was just as flabbergasted as Jake was, and she agreed to come with me solely so she could save the mental pictures of me dancing in a club and use them to torture me later. Whatever, it was worth a little humiliation if it meant less alone time with Jake. Not that I wanted to avoid him, I just didn’t trust myself not to immediately tell him about the events of the past week. After our brunch I had lied and said I had errands to run for the bakery, then I just wandered aimlessly around town all day. I finally came home a half hour before we needed to leave and went straight to our room to change, shutting the door behind me. I emerged twenty minutes later, wearing the blue dress and some four-year-old heels I had worn once to my cousin’s wedding—the fanciest shoes I owned. I even did my makeup and curled my hair. May as well look the part.
I give myself one last look in the mirror. As good as it’s going to get, I think before I head down the stairs and find Jake waiting in the living room, sitting on the couch right where I had sat across from my dad just a few hours ago, minus the floral upholstery. His eyes widen when he sees me.
“Oh, man,” he says, looking dumbstruck.
“What?” I respond, blushing. “Is it too much?”
“It’s exactly enough,” he says, earnestly. Then he stands and puts his hands on my waist, giving me a kiss on the forehead. “I love you.”
“Same,” I say as I grab my purse and head for the door.
We meet Ellie on the way to the club and find Kaitlin and Dash in line to get in when we get there. “Hey betch!” Kaitlin waves as we approach. “Stand with us!” I don’t feel great about cutting the line, but I’m also not too keen to wait outside for an hour with Jake and Ellie, trying not to mention parallel universes or blue magic stones.
“Hey girl!” I say awkwardly to Kaitlin as I squeeze in line behind her. I can see Jake raising his eyebrows at me, but he and Ellie follow suit. Jake starts chatting with Dash about the band and their show, and Kaitlin launches into a lengthy diatribe about a salesclerk that threatens to bore Ellie to tears, but at least I’m free to stay silent.
The line moves fairly quickly, and before I know it, we’re showing our IDs at the door, bass thumping loudly just beyond. Kaitlin grabs Dash by the hand and leads him over to the dance floor, and I watch as they disappear into the crowd. Ellie, Jake, and I decide that dancing can wait, and we head to the bar instead.
“Shots?” asks Ellie as she pushes her way to the front.
“Sure, why not?” I yell back. We are at a club, after all. Seems like the thing to do.
Ellie returns with six colorful shots on a tray. It’s unclear what any of them contain, and I hope they aren’t too strong because I’m kind of a lightweight. The last time I drank hard liquor I ended up throwing up in the bushes behind our house while Ellie held my hair back—not a good look. “Bottoms up,” Ellie says, grinning as she takes hers, one after the other, like a pro. Jake looks at me and shrugs as he lifts a shot up off the tray. Better to get it over with fast, I think, picking up both of mine at once.
“Here’s to a mind eraser kind of night,” Jake says, holding up a shot to say cheers.
“I’ll drink to that,” I reply before tossing both shots down my throat at the same time.
Jake laughs and throws his arm around my shoulders.
“Now let’s get that dress on the dance floor!” Ellie shouts.
She grabs my hand and struts off toward the booming bass, dragging me behind her, the pleasant warmth of alcohol already clouding my mind.
Chapter 9
When I wake up, my head is pounding. I can’t remember getting home or going to bed, so Jake must have changed me into the pajamas I’m wearing. I don’t remember having any dreams either, so at least something good came of last night. I open my eyes a crack, just enough to peer around the room, but not enough to let in too much light, which will surely make my head explode. I spot a cup of coffee sitting on top of my copy of Jane Eyre on the little shelf above my head. A note is tucked under the cup: Went for a run. Drink this. Love you, it reads. I take the coffee and sip it slowly, trying not to vomit. It’s gone a little cold, but it’s still doing the trick. When it’s finished, I lay in bed a moment longer, trying to find the motivation to move. Eventually I realize if I don’t go now, I may just have to live in this bed forever. Better to rip the Band-Aid off, I think. I take a deep breath and throw back the covers, stepping over my blue dress lying on the floor as I hop out of bed and head downstairs, the pain in my head only slightly dulled.
Jake is still out, so I go to the kitchen and start making eggs. I still feel like I might throw up, but I know from experience that if I don’t eat, it will only get worse. While I’m cooking, I think again of yesterday’s events—parallel universe, two Jakes, my father, saving the world. After a night back on Earth, it almost feels like it was all a dream. Maybe it was. I still haven’t dispelled the psychotic episode theory. I conclude it’s best to just put it out of my mind for now, at least until the strategy meeting when I’ll have more information to go on. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Just pretend it never happened. I’m feeling better already, having made this decision, and I sit down at the table to eat.
“Ah, the hangover breakfast,” Jake says, coming into the kitchen.
“Please have mercy,” I say in fake-desperation. “I might not make it.”
“I think you’ll survive,” he says, laughing. “I have faith in you.”
“At least one of us does,” I say, only half-joking now. Jake always seems to think I’m stronger than I actually am.
“So, you still think you ‘don’t hate clubs?’” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Not as much as I hate you right now,” I reply pitifully as I bury my head in my arms.
“That’s the spirit,” he says, patting me on the back and stealing a bite of my toast before leaving me there in my misery.
The next day is Monday, and we go to work as usual, me running late and sprinting to catch the bus. When I get to the bakery, I check my schedule and see that I’ve got a busy week. Good. A full workday is a welcome distraction. I put on my apron and bandana to cover my hair, wash my hands, and get to work pulling out ingredients. I have a few wedding cakes due soon, so I spend most of the morning mixing the various batters—chocolate, vanilla, lemon—and pouring them into round metal pans of concentric sizes. I even finish the competition cake, finally, and send the photographs off along with my recipe submission, a huge weight lifted off my shoulders.
By the time I’m finished I realize that my stomach is growling, and I see that I’ve already missed lunch. Great. There’s no time to go out, so I guess I’ll just order something for delivery. I go to the back room and pull out my phone to find that I have a missed call from my mom, whom I’ve been avoiding since my trip to Pearth two days ago. My family is very close, my mom and I even more so having shared the experience of raising Ellie after my father died. She was my sole parent, and I was constantly afraid I would lose her too—a fear that manifested itself in adulthood through frequent phone calls to check in on her. I haven’t called in days though, and if I keep ignoring her calls, she’s likely to put out a search party, so I can’t avoid her forever. I decide to put in a quick sandwich order before ringing her back. That way when it shows up, I’ll at least have an excuse to end the conversation.
