by Nicole Wells
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"Oh my God," I mumble to myself, facepalming. Jacob snickers over my shoulder.
"She's different. Where did you find her?". His arms come around me.
"It's more like she found me. Want ad."
I turn around in his arms and kiss him, my own arms encircling him.
"And I found you," he says. His head dips down and he captures my lips. I enthusiastically kiss him back.
"You’re more than decent, but you're mine. Let's get out of here before she-"
There is heavy stomping in the hallway and an overloud voice saying "I'm getting my keys out." Keys rattle excessively in the lock. I tow Jacob towards the door and open it. She looks up, surprised, the irony lost on her at the moment.
Feeling gleeful, I give her a peck on the check as we pass. "Thanks, Fee"
We go out hand in hand. A light sprinkle of snow is coming down, like individual stars come to bless our reunion. I tilt my face up, brimming with a smile, my fire banked and happy, my water energy beautiful like ice crystals.
chapter 34
I see a young man. He is in a long open room, the walls timber and the trusses in the ceiling exposed. The air is thick with smoke and his back is to me. I just get glimpses of his dark hair and tan skin. He is crowded by older men, some decorated with charms and necklaces, others holding talismans, and still more marked with feathers and paint. There is chanting. In the way of dreams, I just know the young man is being tested. The air is heavy with anticipation. Some of the men’s energy moves fast like the sparrow, quick to cling to new hope. Some of the men’s energy is slow, like the turtle, slow to change but steady and true. All of the men are powerful. But none of them are as powerful as the young man.
The air clears, and I see a familiar face, because it is my own. The young man is me.
—— ——
WOW, IS IT WEIRD watching your mom get giddy over a boy. Weird and a little bit wonderful, since it's something we now share. Our bonding has brought us to her bathroom, as we put on finishing touches. I insisted on meeting Alex sooner, and I've hung out with him a few times now. He's that kind of guy you couldn't not like. He's adorably fastidious, sweet, and funny.
I’m wearing a red long sleeve top with cut out detail in the sleeves, paired with a black A-line midi skirt and peep-toe heels. I rarely wear much daily makeup, but tonight I went all out with red lipstick, black eyeliner and mascara highlighting my smokey eyes. Mom has on a soft beige sweater dress with a cowl neck and boots, the neutral palette emphasizing her pink gloss and diamond studs.
We’re finally having our Christmas dinner. It’s more like a Holiday Dinner, since it’s not quite Christmas, and we will still have a very special night together — just my mom and Alex and Jacob and me — on Christmas Eve. Then I’ll spend Christmas with his family, while mom and Alex spend the day together since his boys are with their mom this year. But tonight is for friends and family — the four of us plus Fee and Tate, and Bob. It's too bad Yasmin isn’t here, but she’ll be here in spirit.
Staring in the mirror at the two of us, it's amazing how far we’ve come in three years. Through so many hurdles, we came up on top, stronger, wiser, happier. She looks great and I feel radiant. We smile at each other in the mirror.
“I always liked Jacob, you know. He was so sweet on you. And now look, you two are a great couple.”
This is why I didn’t need any blush.
The doorbell rings and I rush to get it, my mom following at a more sedate pace. I didn’t realize my mom had left the door unlocked for our guests, so I’m surprised to see it swing inward and Jacob’s head peek in, hollering “Hello?” I barrel into him as he enters the rest of the way. He greets me with an “Oomph”, which is all I let him get out before I kiss him senseless. I hadn’t seen him since the afternoon, which is much, much too long. I have so much time to make up for.
I hear chuckling, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s not my mom. In fact, it sounds a lot like —
“Yasmin!!” I attack her next, and we swing around in my enthusiasm. “You’re here!”
“Surprise! Jacob picked me up from the airport. Girl, you know I couldn’t miss this!”
I hug her again before she says “I told you so” and I roll my eyes. “Yes, I heard you the first 78 times you said it.”
“Yes, but you didn’t hear me say it in person.”
“Good, because you couldn’t see me roll my eyes over the phone.” I do a repeat performance, and she laughs and compliments me on my makeup.
"I think you look stunning," Jacob says, and tugs on my arm and I sway back into him. "But I think you look absolutely, ridiculously amazing no matter what you have on," he whispers. This. Boy.
Yasmin looks on approvingly. “Now you guys don’t have the weirdest relationship.” And I agree. It feels like all is right with the world.
“Seriously. I can tell from the outside, your house is big enough that we don’t have to all stand in the foyer. Unless it's filled with board games and books. She does that to our apartment, too. Oh, damn, Tate, I didn’t warn you. There will almost certainly be board games. But we can flee by then. Unless they wait to serve dessert.” Fee shoves her way in, dragging Tate, his blonde military cut and tie seemingly at odds with his tattoos and piercings. She’s wearing a black top with silver beaded embellishment and a mesh torso with black leather pants. And it looks like she’s somehow added shiny silver tinsel accents to her hair.
My mom herds us into the dining room and I take a moment to just enjoy the sound of everyone talking, greeting each other, catching up. We’re dispersing drinks as the doorbell rings again. Alex enters, sweetly kissing mom on the cheek and handing her a bottle of wine. Bob soon follows, engaging everyone and setting the place to laughter, as he does so well. I hold on to Jacob as he offers the appetizers we spent the afternoon making. My heart is so full, I’m not even hungry.
However, dinner is so splendid I end up sampling everything. Fee brought candied sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows, Jacob brought broccoli and cauliflower gratin, Alex the dinner rolls and wine, Bob buttered asparagus, and we made turkey and salad. Merriment abounds as plates make their rounds. Voices directing portions interrupt the scattered conversations of college life. Then there is silence for a bit as everyone digs in, a communal appreciation for our meal.
“So, Enya, do you think you can, like, talk to spirits?” Fee breaks the silence. I manage not to spray my drink. Jacob responds better, chuckling while he pats my back as I cough.
“Um, no, not that I’ve tried.”
“I thought the doctors said it was a way of coping. Do you really think her visions are real?” Alex’s side whisper to mom is loud in the quiet.
Tate responds as he helps himself to another helping of the broccoli cauliflower dish, “I’m going with lucky guesses. No offense.” He waves at me with his fork while Fee shushes him.
“What?” he says as Fee mumbles, “I can’t take you anywhere.”
“Am I the only one catching the irony here?” Yasmin whispers to me.
“That is a fascinating question, though, Fee. I suspect she can time travel — I know it sounds totally outlandish, but when you deal with the cosmos, you learn to suspend your beliefs and just open your eyes to the beauty so you can take in as much as you can and not blind yourself to learning or missing something—” someone clears their throat and Bob catches himself.
"Um, yes, well, anyway, it would be a whole 'nother thing to actually interact. We'd have to completely analyze what properties might be unique to each talent, isolating future, past and present visions as unique traits. Presuming that any interaction could only take place in the present." Bob looks like he wants something to write on, dinner forgotten.
“She did mention to me a vision that occurred in the present time," my mom chimes in, then n
ibbles a spear of asparagus, as if this is perfectly normal dinner conversation. "Delicious asparagus, Bob, by the way. Perfectly tender."
“Really!” He shoots me an offended glare. “I am sure I wasn’t told about that one. Do you have some paper nearby?”
Maybe this dinner wasn’t such a marvellous idea.
"Anyway, back to the spirits," Fee says as mom pushes away from the table "I read that the Dalai Lama is, like, the 14th reincarnation, and he visits the spirits of the Dalai Lamas before him. He can travel in time and space too. In fact, he's planning where he should reincarnate next. So I thought Enya might be able to too."
The silence is even more profound than before, as utensils still, my mom hovering with a notepad dangling from her hand.
“What? I read.” Tate pats her forearm, only slightly distracted from his food, “I think it's that you’re quoting the Dalai Lama.”
“I wouldn’t call that quoting.” Yasmin mumbles. She’s considering majoring in literature, so it gives her rights.
“And I thought her whole deal was being overly compassionate?” Tate says around his mouthful.
“‘Compassion is the common denominator for humankind. It is our cause for happiness. This is what unites us as human beings.’ The Dalai Lama said that. I read it on Facebook.” Poor Alex seems to want to add his two cents, even though I suspect this conversation is now over his head.
“I’m sure that’s not a quote either.” Yasmin quips.
"Overly compassionate and having visions. She shouldn't be bending over backward for every meathead who knows how to watch a YouTube video." Fee continues.
“Yes, right? She should be charging.” My mom nods enthusiastically.
Dinner — definitely a terrible idea. I should try to take charge of the conversation, but that would require removing my hands from my face.
“Back to the original conversation,” Jacob speaks up beside me. He looks my way and rests his hand on my forearm. My hero.
“Yes,” I interrupt to voice my approval, “I’d much rather discuss college. Yasmin, weren’t you saying something about parking on campus?”
Jacob looks at me askew, then talks calmly, gently, to the room at large while still looking at me, hand lingering on my arm.
“I doubt she can talk to spirits. I don’t think looking at it as disparate ESP gifts works. I think it's just her, related to the particular combination of who she is genetically and who she has become personally.”
I gape at him. He stares back with Zen master placidity.
"I think it has to do with communication. Enya, you mentioned your acupuncturist having her own theory." Bob pauses in his furious scribbling and leans forward.
“That your home base is the Heart energy. What was the word?” His face scrunches adorably, his eyeglasses slightly askew, in full geekdom mode. I love him even when I’m peeved at him.
“Oh, yes, ‘constitution’. Your constitution is the Heart Official. And that if the Heart is doing its function, its presence allows the entire body to work better. Well, the mind is a servant to the heart. What if you are a once in a lifetime combination of predominant Heart energy and Huntington's? So your whole body is optimized, primed because of the work you’ve done on presence, which is even more profound because presence is the domain of the heart, your constitution.”
“She’s able to be both more present than most people and her body works better because she’s more present and her heart energy is strong, all because she’s a Heart constitution?” Bob asks eagerly.
He turns towards Bob, “A heart constitution plus all the work she’s done. Her diagnosis has pushed her to discover and be more than most people would. She’s realized a level of spirituality that most people never see, Heart constitution or not.”
I feel like a passenger in a moving vehicle, buckled in and along for the ride.
“So how does having spirituality and presence help her have visions?” mom wonders.
"And you mentioned it's the combination of Heart energy and Huntington's. What about Huntington's?" Yasmin asks.
“Huntington's for most people means it turns the volume in their nerve communication up too high. What if in Enya it's like a gateway, or pruning, so it could focus the Heart optimization?”
“It resulted in neuronal plasticity, and the volume readjusted?” Bob asks.
"More like it set the sensitivity too high because of the disease, so the brain, under the domain of the heart, focused only on certain channels. Like, instead of the radio stations all playing at once and being noise, you could hear one station very well and could pick up notes others couldn't.
"Maybe other Heart constitutions didn't have this pruning and didn't get to that level of heart power, so the energy was never really channeled," Jacob replies, turning back to me again.
"The protein in Huntington's is unrelated to any other protein, and scientists have yet to fully understand what it does." He squeezes my arm and smiles shyly. "I kinda made it my mission to learn more. It's why I want to study molecular biology." Holy crap, this unbelievable boy.
He turns back to the rest of the table. “We know it's essential to life, and I suspect it may have a role in cellular communication. It is highly expressed in the presynaptic areas of neurons. It definitely appears to have multiple roles with vesicles, which you can think of as communication packets between cells.
"It also seems to have a role in how other genes are expressed, probably turning them on. So it's enabling things to happen. What, we don't fully know.
"If Huntington's has to do with communication, I suspect in Enya it also bridged the gap between the communication of the heart and the brain more. We know that the heart is a neuroendocrine organ. It is reaching out to communicate, and honestly, we've only scratched the surface on that.
"So, to come full circle, if you are completely, fully present, there is no time or space. All of these factors allow her to reach truly being in the present moment to a degree few people attain. What happens when she's there? Well, I think that's where the compassion comes in. And what happens in the present moment just happens, guided by her heart and her Creator."
He turns back to look at me now, and I see his faith in me, his respect, and his love.
Bob looks star-struck, Fee looks put out, Yasmin looks appreciative, Mom looks relieved and I … I think for the first time in my entire life I truly get that I am not, and will never again be, alone.
{ Part Three }
Everything is changeable, everything appears and disappears; there is no blissful peace until one passes beyond the agony of life and death…
– Gautama Buddha
chapter 35
He lights the ceremonial herbs. Fragrance and ashes waft in the air. The turtle spirit is slow, plodding, as always. Patient and wise. An old friend.
He is quiet in this sacred time-space. For once, nothing needs to be said.
The man looks over the curve of it's broad shell. A galaxy looms over the horizon of it. Beautiful, sparkling lights, a glittering fabric draped before him, it's magnitude challenging the limits of his perception. In his vision, their world is just a small speck among the stars.
He allows himself the moment to feel miniscule, one part of many.
—— ——
Los Angeles, CA
March 2023
THE LIGHTS ARE A LITTLE TOO BLINDING for me, but nothing like the sparks that come with my visions. And hot. It is unexpectedly hot on this stage. I look around but it's hard to see the audience with the lights focused on me. Plus the giant fuzzy-headed microphone and other recording paraphernalia and people blocking me from the audience.
“It's certainly remarkable, your track record with predictions, but it's also convenient that you can’t control it, isn’t it? Like if we tested you right now with something that we could control and know you had no insider knowledge, you wouldn’t be able to do it, right?”
Yasmin and Jacob had advised me against coming on this talk
show. The host is known for being skeptical of my gifts and for drilling his guests when he sees fit. But I swim and breathe in the compassion that unites us all as humans these days. I can shift to that place of love and take the walls down. I can see myself as this guy. He’s defensive, and that’s okay. I have nothing to prove to him, and I’m not out to take him down. It's amazing how much that dissolves boundaries, when it's not you versus me but a “we.” We’re in this together.
Jackie understands. Even though I can't see her for acupuncture since we moved to California, we still talk on the phone. She gets how I've moved past forgiveness to delight. That I truly look forward to people with edges, where I can forgive them and let go of any grievances I've unconsciously made or held on to. If I find myself resisting something, I forgive it and that creates peace in the moment. I forgive having grievances.
But now I’ve also pushed past the forgiveness to delight. I exult in the opportunity to forgive, to find grace, light, and love in another. The feeling of removing the wrapping paper to the gift underneath with each person I meet. It's like an opportunity to heal, this love. I guess I became a healer after all.
“It can certainly look that way.” I smile at him kindly.
I don’t bother pointing out when my vision saved 57 people from a natural disaster, the event primarily responsible for my meteoric rise to fame — something I could not have manipulated.
“Well, today, we have a guest that thinks so. Please welcome Dr. Andrews!” The host stands and flings his arm out as the audience cheers. Dr. Andrews is no longer doing clinical practice. He hosts his own talk show now, as well as guests appearances as a national expert, but is still known as a very vocal skeptic of mine. I haven’t met him face-to-face on a stage like this before, but I’ve made my peace with him in my own way.