by Nikki Harmon
“I’m so sorry. I realized you don’t remember this because you weren’t here for so much of this, but we came here for a purpose. We have to get to it.”
“What purpose?” I manage to slide out of my mouth. I’m not sure of my be-ingness.
Amy sighed. “Short-term, our purpose is to get you able to jump at will. Long-term, our purpose … is kind of to save the world, or at least the world as we know it.” She shrugs and unties my wrists. She helps me sit up and gives me an orange Gatorade to drink.
I want to say things and deny things and go back and away but I don’t. I am sure, in this moment, that I am right where I am supposed to be. Amy pulls out a granola bar.
“Sorry,” she says, “it’s all I have on me.” I ravish it and feel better afterward.
“Can you walk?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try.” I struggle to upright myself and find the ground under my feet feels harder than I expected. Amy restores all the bottles back to their cabinets, carries Mable, the vine, back to her perch, and then turns to me. She puts her arm around my waist and walks me out of the room. Walking feels a little like falling, like when you miss a step and step down hard enough to rattle your teeth. But I adjust. I think we are leaving, but she steers me to an elevator. The ascent is slow and noisy, but it disorients me and I’m grateful when we get off on the 5th Floor. We go left and then right and end up in a lounge room near a vending machine and the ladies’ bathroom. The vending machine lights capture my attention and we stop so I can dig in my bag and find just enough change for Caramel Creams. They might be fifteen years old, but with my tongue, I push out that cool chalky center and chaw on the sticky, chewy ring left behind. I am seven years old again. Amy indulges the first two caramels but then steers me into the lounge and closes the door.
I look around. It’s empty and looks like it hasn’t been used in years. The couches are old and plaid with wide wooden armrests. The seats are caved in; the backs are worn and frayed. The carpet is threadbare and all the edges are covered in a thick layer of dust. The view out the window, however, is spectacular. It faces south and looks out over Broad Street towards the Philly skyline. It’s not as impressive as some cities, but when the sun hits it going up or down, like now, it looks beautiful. God what time is it? I grab at my bag and search for my phone. It’s 6:00pm! I look up at Amy.
“Yeah, we lost quite a bit of time but we have to start now, Kim.”
“Start what?”
“Training. Sorry about the room but I can almost guarantee that we won’t be interrupted. I think maintenance has forgotten this room exists.”
“I’m sorry, did you say ‘training’? I’m supposed to meet my friend Kendra for drinks in a couple of hours.”
“That probably won’t be a problem.” I look at her. I pop another caramel.
“Ok. So, what do you want me to do?” I ask between chews. Amy looks around and closes the door behind us. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a notebook and two pens, one black and one purple. She puts all three on the table with the pens on either side of the notebook about ten inches in toward the center. She motions for me to sit and I do. She opens the notebook to a blank page.
“I want you to think of a phrase or sentence, it can be real simple, then imagine writing it down. Then I want you to think about which pen to use, and give it serious consideration, then pick one and write down your sentence.”
I look at Amy and decide to just humor her. Maybe it will all make sense, maybe not and I can go home and forget about today. I look at the page, the sentence comes easy then I consider the pens. Purple is pretty but black makes a statement. I look at both pens, then grab the black one and write in the book, ‘What the hell is going on!?!?’ Amy laughs.
“Ok, now look at the page and change your mind. Decide that it was really the purple one you wanted to pick. Visualize the purple pen, visualize you are grabbing it and writing with it and see the words on the paper, the purple words.”
I look up at her. She nods at me and stares at the page. Ok. I close my eyes and tell myself I prefer the purple pen, the ink is more soothing, the color more like spring, I visualize my arm reaching across my body for the purple pen. I pick it up with two fingers, I bring it back across to the page. As I reach, a sound starts, a low growl turns into a roar, the back of my head buzzes. My visualization changes from fantasy to memory, I remember myself reaching, I remember myself liking the purple, I remember drawing the letters like swirls on the page, ‘What the hell is going on?’. I feel a tiny jerk like someone bumped my chair. I open my eyes as I hear Amy gasp behind me. I shake myself to full consciousness and look at her to see if she bumped me. She is a few feet back but she’s grinning at me and pointing at the page. Purple ink, swirly letters wondering what the hell is going on. I jump out of my seat and back away from the table. But I remember choosing black and writing it in black, but I also remember choosing purple and writing it in purple. I look at Amy.
“Is this what you are talking about?” She nods.
“But bigger jumps, bigger decisions, bigger consequences.”
“What did I just do?”
“You created two possible timelines and jumped between them.”
“I did? You didn’t do anything?”
“No, not here. I did dose you though.”
“Dosed me with what?” I ask.
“A combination of chemicals that loosen molecular bonds, heighten electrical sensitivity and a little PCP and then I hit you with some gamma rays.” Oh, is that all? I close my eyes. I don’t know whether to hit this girl, run out of here screaming or ask for the formula. From behind my eyelids, I hear Amy.
“Kim? Are you trying to make a decision right now?”
“Yes, actually, why?”
“I can see you pulsating a little. The air around you, I don’t know but the light is altered.”
“I’m trying to decide whether to kick your ass or not.”
“I’m an Aikido Black Belt so you won’t get far but come on Kim, we have work to do. You saw what you can do and that was just peanuts though I’m impressed you did it on the first try.”
I look at the purple writing on the page and shake my head.
“Ok, what’s next?”
“Go back and pick the black pen.” I sit back down. It’s easier this time. I focus, I see it, the roar, I flick myself to it and there it is. ‘What the hell is going on?’ written in black, and not swirly letters but angry lines. I smile up at her.
“Good,” she says. “Now I need you to think. You must have made some decision earlier today, some choice, something.” I think about it and remember the detour.
“Well, I was going to go for a walk on Kelly Drive but was detoured by the regatta. That was not a choice but in the midst of trying to decide what to do, I saw the sign for Diamond Street and decided to visit Temple. See where that got me …”
“What would you have done otherwise?”
“Hmm… not sure, probably complete the detour, end up back on the drive, maybe ride up Fairmount Avenue and look for a coffee shop? Maybe park on the Parkway and walk anyway? Nah, probably find a coffee shop with outdoor seating and call someone.”
“Who?”
“Maybe Kendra to see if she could meet earlier. Or maybe this old friend of mine I was thinking about, Skylar. We used to hang out when I went to Temple. I’m not sure what she’s doing now.”
“OK, that’s good. I want you to sit down. Then try to visualize that whole scene. Go back to when you saw the detour, remember taking it but think about seeing Diamond Street and deciding not to go. It’s a beautiful day, you want to be outside or whatever. Just decide not to drive down Diamond or towards Temple. But listen I have to do two things first and you are not going to like them.”
“As though I have liked all the rest of this?”
“I’m going to give you another spray. I need you to be a little more receptive.” I open my mouth to protest but she squirts me right in the mouth
with a tube of what looks like Binaca but tastes like corn chips. I want to spit it out but she grabs my jaw and shakes her head. I swallow glaring at her. Too late I see her glance at my hairline and quick as a snake she reaches up and yanks a hair from my head and jumps back three feet. I rub my head, biting my tongue and trying to control my need to strangle her.
“I’m so sorry Kim but we don’t have a lot of time. I need a DNA sample and I don’t have time to go back to the safe house.”
“You could have just asked me!” I am pissed off.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m just a little stressed out here. I will always ask from now on, ok. I’m sorry.” I roll my eyes at her.
“Listen carefully. I need you to remember to come to Temple tomorrow. I will meet you back here. I am going to try and find you on Fairmount Avenue but if you don’t go there, I need a failsafe. COME BACK HERE TOMORROW.” The last sentence she says in a firm and loud tone of voice, shifting her voice to contain more bass. It feels like it penetrates into my skull. I don’t just hear it; it vibrates my bones. Weird.
“Ok, sorry again but are you ready? Close your eyes. Let’s go back to the detour. Feel the car you are sitting in, see the sign, feel the frustration, and concentrate Kim.”
Despite being pissed off that she jumped and bamboozled me like that, I do as I’m told. I go all in and find it not too hard to take myself back there, to imagine the drive through the cones and up the small street into the park. There is a rumble in my brain as I see the Diamond Street sign and I want to turn there but I shift my thinking to the sun and warmth and desire to relax. The roar increases and I am drifting back and then nudged sideways.
∆∆∆
I don’t turn onto Diamond Street. Eh, maybe I’ll go back to Temple next week. I complete the detour. It’s a perfect spring day but so crowded down here on the drive. Maybe I’ll just go up Fairmount Avenue. I heard that with all the gentrification, there are some cool little coffee shops.
I’m in luck, right across from the Penitentiary; there is a cute little shop with café tables out front. It’s crowded but I’ll be able to get a seat. I find parking and get out of my car. It’s a beautiful sunny day. I parked in front of a sports bar. I look up at the sign and read it aloud.
“The Tumble-Down Lounge? Stupid name.” I try to remember why it sounds familiar to me but I can’t. I shake it off and cross the street to the Shameless Café.
Inside, it’s bustling with people. There are the determined workers who, even on this warm brilliant day have committed themselves to their laptop and chair with a view of the world going past. There are the young parents who are doing right by their kids by taking them out for a walk but first, they have to accessorize themselves with their cool coffee cups to go. There are the dog walkers, the older newspaper readers, the angsty teenagers who should not be drinking coffee but it’s ok because it’ll go good with the cigarette they are going to have later. And there is that couple, who after a long night of lovemaking, woke up to only two teaspoons of coffee grounds and nothing much to say to each other so they came to the coffee shop. And me. Not sure of my plans but sure some coffee will go good with whatever I decide. I get my large caramel latte and snag a seat outside. It’s a little cool but the sun feels good on my face. I feel a little “off”. The coffee will help.
I text Kendra to see if she can meet me earlier. She can’t. I run through the names of the other people in Philly, who I might want to hang out with. Skylar is in Zanzibar on assignment. Jen is gone. Meer. I don’t want to think about her but I do. It was so long ago. Four years since we broke up. Four years since she broke me. But I managed to survive. I had never understood the analogy about the ostrich with his head buried in the sand until I had to finish out that year at UConn. I became that ostrich. I buried my head so far under my books I didn’t hear nor read nor know anything about her basketball season that year. I didn’t know about how she came off the bench and became a star, I didn’t know anything about her injury during the first round of March Madness, I didn’t know anything about them losing to Tennessee in the Championship. I found out all that after I transferred, when I was miles and miles away. The last I heard, she graduated UConn and went overseas to play ball. I guess that’s where she is now. I try to think about something else, because the thought of Meer takes me back into a world of hurt and regret. If I dwell too long, my bones ache for her.
Lost in my reverie I don’t notice a slight white woman in a beat-up Chevy honking at me. She’s waving at me. I don’t think I know her. Then I hear her call my name. I can’t believe that bass came from that skinny little chick, but as soon as I hear it, something clicks and I remember her … Amy. I wave back. She sighs, indicates that she is going to park and she pulls off around the corner.
I close my eyes and sip my latte. I sense Amy and open my eyes to see her speed walking up the street. I search my brain trying to remember how I know her. She must have seen my confusion because she sat down with a huff and spat out, “Patel! Jumping! Save the World!” And like the ball in a pinball machine, my brain rolled around hitting bumpers and the memories snapped back, one by one. Temple, dirty room, purple ink, Patel, Joan, Mabel. My smile fades. I know my relaxed afternoon sipping lattes and warming my face in the sun was just an illusion. That small bliss slips away as I watch Amy order something to eat, then come right back to the table.
“Ok, so that’s good. You made a deliberate small jump. Let’s see if you can jump along this timeline. Do you want to try past or future first?”
“Which is easier?”
“The past, although there is the danger that you will make a different decision and then alter the timeline.”
“I’ll go with the future then. I want to see what I end up doing.”
“Ok. If you are done your drink, we should probably go somewhere a bit more private.”
I down the rest of my coffee while Amy goes back to the counter to pick up her food. I glance at a newspaper on the table next to me. The headline reads, “City of Philadelphia Declares Bankruptcy. Martial Law Possible.” I sigh and walk with Amy back to her car, the sunshine is still bright but is no longer keeping me warm.
Chapter 26
Amy drives down Fairmount Avenue and makes a left up 13th Street. She talks non-stop about traffic and cars and sun glare. I sense her nervousness and it’s not helping me at all. I decide to think about when in the future I would like to go. To my graduation? To my first job? None of these feel right. What event can I visualize hard enough to get there? The car stops in front of an old warehouse on an abandoned block in industrial North Philly. There could have been factories and stores here, but everything looks like it’s been demolished. Everything but this weathered stone building surrounded by weeds and faded trash. Amy pulls an enormous set of keys out of her bag. Some of the keys are skeleton keys, made for ancient locks, some look like regular keys and a few are like a grayish hard plastic (graphite?) and smooth with no notches whatsoever. She clinks through the ring, finds the one she wants and says, “Ok, let’s go.”
We look around as we walk up to the door, but it seems no one is around for blocks. I have an immediate sense of dread. I think I know this place but its isolation is unnerving.
Amy opens the door and we enter. She turns on the hall lights and I follow her to a large room in the back. We are alone in this place but my mind is conjuring up snippets of conversations and laughter and nervous energy. She turns on the radio and Donna Summer blasts into the room singing “Bad Girls”. We both laugh.
“The radio always helps,” she says. I breathe a sigh of relief. I hadn’t realized how long I had been holding my breath. Amy opens up the little refrigerator in the corner and offers me a bottle of water.
“We should have stopped to pick up more food,” she says. “I think we, or at least I will be here for a few days. “ I nod and head over to the stacks of tissue-thin paper on the desk.
“Oh yeah, we’re going to need to start a new lin
e. That’s something I can do while you’re gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yeah. Look we might as well get started. Do you remember this place? It’s our safe house. We own it and this is where we meet when we need to talk privately.”
I nod, it makes sense but something else is tugging at me.
“Do you remember the others? Sujatha, Ramon, Manny, Marcus, Grayson?”
“No … kinda…maybe.”
“Kim, what’s wrong? I know this is a little overwhelming but you are safe here.”
“I don’t know, I just feel a sense of loss. Like I had something but I’ve lost it.”
“Oh,” she looks away. “… well, let’s just move on, OK? We have a lot to do and though we can continue to go back in time, the threads are starting to coalesce and shift.”
I sit down at the worn wooden kitchen table. She sits across from me and slides my water to me. She opens her bag and pulls out a bunch of sprays, chewing gum, a calculator, three cell phones, a plastic box, a portable scanner of some sort, a pad of paper, pencils and a roll of candy buttons that I suspect are not actually candy.