Neither Here Nor There

by Nikki Harmon

  “How long were you there?”

  “I was in hibernation in the beginning, so I’m not sure. I didn’t see the tattoo until I had been awake about a week. It was my first shower.”

  “Oh, but as soon as you saw the tattoo, it reminded you?”

  “Yeah, it reminded me. It felt like I could hear your voice calling my name.” Amy smiles.

  “Good, I embedded the energy pattern of my yell into the tattoo.”

  “You did what?”

  “One other little thing I picked up from the future but, please don’t tell. I wasn’t sure you would come back and we really need to move this along.”

  “Wow. Ok, well, it worked. I’m here.”

  “Yes, you are.” She reaches to hug me again. This time I let her.

  “Phobos?”

  “Yeah”, I sigh, “fucking Phobos.”

  “That’s pretty awesome…”

  “Tell me about it.”

  I start to pull on my clothes. I feel weird to myself, heavier, meatier, moist. I don’t want to lose my space flight but the memory is slipping away. I grab at a notebook and try to write down my thoughts but each sentence I start, I cannot finish and the result is like looking at a collage too closely. All disjointed images but you can’t perceive what whole is supposed to be. But I remember Meer and Barack, even as they disintegrate I blurt out, “I was married to Meer!”

  Amy whips her head around. “What?”

  “We had a son, his name was .. um, his name was… I can’t remember but we had a son, a boy. Meer.” I shake my head trying to force my brain to fish for the threads and connect the dots but it’s too late. I look down at the notebook, at the words on the page, and I clutch it to my chest. Phobos.

  ∆∆∆

  After eating a quiet, luke-warm meal of Pad Thai, Amy and I agree to just get on with it. She was kind of pissed that I jumped so far. I was kind of pissed to come back. But I have questions.

  “Amy? I can’t say that I understand how I’m able to do what I did but moving along a timeline seems more plausible then jumping from timeline to timeline. How do you, how do we do that? How do you remember the “you” from the other timeline? How are you able to pick and choose, come back and still know who you are?”

  Amy looks at me and sighs a big sigh. “Well, you are about to find out because that’s next.” Amy walks over to a big bookshelf and pulls out books on Voodoo, Buddhism and the Bible and pushes them across the table in front of me.

  “Do you know what all of these have in common?”

  “They are books about religion.”

  “Yup, and they all assume and rely on the notion of a soul, a “self” that is intact enough to take to heaven, or to another body or to move aside while a god rides your body.”

  “What?"

  “Every religion teaches that we have a spirit or soul, separate from the body, distinct in this lifetime or another.”

  “And you are saying ...?”

  “They are correct.”

  I sit and stare at her. “Ok.”

  “Most of the time, unless you are praying, you don’t think about it, it’s tethered to your body and hotwired to your brain. Jumping back in time requires access to your brain and the memories it stores. But jumping forward and across timelines while being conscious of it, requires a little more.”

  “But I jumped before, right?”

  “Yes, but you don’t remember much and didn’t stay conscious. You lost consciousness as your soul reached off.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Your soul is like a wave, stretching across all timelines, in all universes, connecting all the yous and possible yous that exist. But it is one entity, one pulse of energy, capable of extending into infinity. You have to learn to acknowledge and connect consciously with it. When you learn to stay conscious within it, even as you move along it, then you can travel anywhere, anytime and not get lost.”

  I sat back and looked at her, again weighing my options, while judging her sanity and mine. “How do I know this is not just the drugs talking? How do I know that all this is real? I just, even though I was there, I know I was there, I just … it’s so hard to believe. My soul? Fuck Amy…”

  “What did you think it was? And does the name matter? You are traveling through time and across dimensions ... soul, energy, essential you, what any culture, religion or scientist calls it is irrelevant. Call it a rose, but it exists.”

  “My soul travels?”

  “More like your consciousness travels along the pulse of your soul. You access your soul in the dimensions it reaches.”

  I try to wrap my head around it. “So I, Kim can travel to any dimension or time where I, Kim, exist?”

  “Yes, with training and help.”

  “But I can’t go where Kim is not?”

  “Exactly, not yet at least.”

  “So if I have died in another thread?”

  “You could access the past, but not the time after the death.”

  “What happened to my soul then?”

  “Nothing. It continues in its other threads.”

  “And when I die in all my threads?”

  “Depends on what you believe I guess or maybe not, I don’t know. Just try not to die, ok?” I sit with that for a minute.

  “Is there anything to drink?” I ask, thinking about how good some liquor would taste right now.

  “Sure, check the fridge.”

  “No, scotch or anything?”

  “Oh, um, yeah, I think there is some bourbon.”

  “Perfect.” Amy opens a cabinet and takes out an old dusty bottle of Wild Turkey and two equally dusty highball glasses. As she washes them off in the sink, I watch her for signs of crazy but she looks calm and rational as she sets up the drinks.

  “How can you be so matter-of-fact about all this? You know this is crazy, right?”

  “I’ve had a while to get used to it. And I’ve done it. And once you do it, you know it and you don’t doubt it again.” I reach for the glass closest to me and gently sniff the clear brown liquid. Sharp and warm and sweet. I take a swallow and it burns all the way down but settles my nerves. I can feel the tingling suffuse along my limbs. It’s been a while since I’ve had something this strong to drink but it gives me the courage to ask, “So, how do I become aware of my soul?”

  Kim downs her small glass of bourbon and nods at me as she shakes off the sting. She walks to the small refrigerator and takes out a small white bag from the back. I can hear a slight tinkling as she closes the door firmly. She holds out the bag out me and I take it. Inside there are six small vials of clear liquid and a tiny silver teaspoon. I’m guessing it’s LSD again.

  “A small sip with a guided meditation is how we start. It’s not that hard if you’ve ever prayed before,” Amy says.

  I think back to my many years sitting in the pew at my mother’s church, listening to the pastor yell about this and that, smattering bible verses as punctuation to his sermons about sins and transgressions. In the beginning of the service we would pray, at the end we recite the Lord’s Prayer, our voices a rumbling drone of memory but not conviction. Have I prayed? When I was little, my mother used to sit by my bedside and I would repeat that horrid little verse, “If I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” I try to think back to a time when I spoke to God and was not just following the lead of whoever was standing at the pulpit, or my mother squatting by my side. And then I remember. I was thirteen, maybe fourteen and I prayed to God to make me normal. I prayed so hard, tears squeezed out from under my lashes and my jaw hurt from tensing it so hard. I don’t think God listened to me though. I was still gay the next day.

  “I don’t know that I’ve ever really prayed,” I confess to Amy, “Church was always an obligation, not something I believed in.” Amy nodded. “Meditation?” she inquired.

  “No, Amy. I’m a scientist. I believe in known quantities and chemicals and data. And I already know how to breathe.” Amy scratched her he
ad and pulled her hair back into a tighter bun. “Have you ever danced until you forgot yourself?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Ok then, same thing.” She placed the bag down, attached her cell phone to the stereo and flicked at her screen until she found what she was looking for. The sound of flutes filled the room. I just looked at her and smirked.

  “Really? Flutes?” She smiled back at me and said, “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Now have a seat, get comfortable, we might be here a while, relatively speaking of course.”

  As I sat in the least uncomfortable looking chair, she walked to the light switch and dimmed the lights. I pulled up another chair to put my feet up and she had lit a candle and put it on the table in front of me.

  “Ready?”

  “I suppose so. But I have to tell you, I don’t like all these drugs in my system.”

  “That’s cute. You think you are not already altered?” She snorted for emphasis then poured a few drops of liquid from one of the vials onto the spoon.

  “Hold the whole spoon in your mouth for 15 seconds. Make sure you swallow all of it.” Then she fed me like a baby and I counted while I watched her put the vial back in the bag, pull up a chair next to me and look me in the eyes.

  “Done?” I nodded and took out the spoon. She washed it, returned it to the bag and put the bag back in the fridge. I noted her every movement, the precise way she turned the spigot on and off, the 90-degree bend at the waist to push the bag to the very back of the little fridge, the firmness of her closing and rotate around to look at me and slow (at least to me) walk towards me and sit down.

  “Look at the candle, Kim. And listen to the flutes.” I did both wanting my ability to follow directions to be noted as “I tried” even though none of this would have an effect on me. No sooner had that thought finished creating itself when I realize how completely mistaken I am. I can literally feel my soul trying to separate from my physical body so it can fly free. Only looking at Amy reminds me of where I am and what we are about.

  “Do you feel it?” she asks. I can only nod as I struggle to stay attached to the head that nodded.

  “Don’t let go. That’s not what we want. I want you to go inside and explore it, if that makes sense. Your soul is a fixed entity that’s not fixed in this universe but it is a complete thing anyway. Does that make sense? You are not to separate, just get a feel for it as separate from your body, a thing that could go free, but that could be dying if you are not careful. You must obey me this time, Kim.”

  I nod again and resist the urge. I close the eyes and turn my attention to understanding the breadth and composition of this thing that I am but never acknowledged before. I could not describe it. There are no words created yet to circumscribe a thing/energy that exists outside, through and beyond current human knowledge. The poets have not arrived yet and I can only say as a scientist, that it is far more advanced and mysterious and ancient than anything I ever learned or encountered. Akin to dark matter in the universe, it is dark DNA – unique to me but too enigmatic for me to comprehend. Yet and still, I attempt to grapple with its existence even as it is me, defines me, encompasses all that is and will ever be me. It is overwhelming and I can feel my heart rate speeding up, my breathing with it. In the background, I hear Amy crooning to me.

  “Flutes, Kim, hear the flutes? Listen to the flutes, slow down, it’s ok, you are almost there, I think you got it, I think you understand, flutes, shhhhh, ok, listen, listen you are you are you are you. When you travel, you go first into you, this you, then make the jump, but you can’t be scared or unsure. This you is you, stay in it and move the universes through, focus on the one you want and bring it to you, go to it, but stay in the you. You understand me, Kim?”

  I nod the head but am not sure I understand. I listen to the flutes. I can observe the sound waves as they move through the room.

  “Kim, do you want to try a jump? A small jump. A small decision. Something easy.” I think back to the morning, which seems like a lifetime ago. This morning I had a lot of choices … Home Depot, the library, a basketball game. I could have done any of those things. Now, I will. I nod the head and mumble, “How do I get back here, to you, this?” I ask, feebly gesturing with the arm.

  “You just have to remember your choice to go to the park instead right? And the detour put you back at Temple, right?” I nod it. “Remember you chose to be alone and walk in the park but were detoured. Don’t get caught where you are though, remember that you are just visiting, passing through, hold tight to the soul energy. Hold it with both hands.” I cock the head at her. “Metaphorically speaking, of course. It is literally your lifeline. Don’t let go.” I blink the eyes and close them. I think with the brain and recall the memories of the morning, the smell of the pancakes, the warmth of the kitchen, my mother’s face and I think I hear myself mumble the words “I’d love to go to the library. The same one we used to go to Mom?” There is an echo. I know it to be caused by the distance of the sound waves from when they form in the brain, exit the mouth, reach the ears and register again in the brain. I know the pattern of the delay. I imagine my mother nodding and saying, “good”. Shorter echo, three points of contact. I see so much. I choose library and am aware of a path that was always there. It is both inside and leading off. I feel pressure and then a roar in my head but I don’t shut down, I move towards the path, to a pinpoint of light.

  ∆∆∆

  I am at home, my mother’s home, in my bed. Something has woken me up. It’s my mother on the phone. She’s crying. No, she’s hysterical. Big Walter is trying to calm her down. I can hear whimpering in the hallway. I slide out of bed. I remember that I am a visitor, just visiting, I remember the path and the pinpoint but I have to know what’s wrong. I grab my robe and throw it on. I can hear drawers opening and slamming shut. I come out of my old bedroom and find them in the hallway holding Maya. My mother looks up at me with tears streaming down her face.

  “Kim, I’m so glad you are here. Stay with Maya, stay with Maya, keep her safe.”

  “Ma, what happened? What’s wrong?” But my mother can’t answer. She breaks down into sobs again. Walter answers for her.

  “It’s Little Walter. After the basketball game, he went to a friend’s house and they got into something and they were arrested.”

  “What!?! But he’s only 12? What could they have done so bad at 12?!”

  “Kim. They just called and said he had a medical emergency. We are on our way to the hospital. Watch Maya. I will call you when I know something but we have to go.”

  My mouth agape, Maya clinging to me, I know myself a visitor and I just want out of here. I search for and find the edges of mySELF and yank up memories of earlier in the day, of Walter and a project from Home Depot. I become aware of the path that was always there and I rush for the pinpoint.

  ∆∆∆

  I find myself in the hallway with Maya clinging to me. I hear my parents bustling in the foyer, then shutting the door behind them. The only thing different about me is the soreness of my back and a bandage on my thumb. Maya is looking at me, scared and confused. I give her a hug.

  “How about a little TV to calm our nerves?” I lead her to our parents’ bedroom and we climb in their tussled bed and snuggle. I search the onscreen cable guide, find an old black and white movie and try to give myself a moment to think. I know I am just visiting. I am here and yet separate from it. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to leave Maya, though I know I won’t be. I know I should travel on to another. What if I go with Walter to the game? Maybe my presence would have stopped him from going out with friends ... the path becomes available but I hesitate. I’m scared to go. I’m scared to see. I kiss Maya on the forehead and give her a squeeze. I pull up and into my SELF and I head to the light.

  ∆∆∆

  Now, I understand. The memories of what happened all come rushing at me and I struggle to absorb it all. The hospital smell, the beeping of the machines, the flickering
fluorescent lights, the multitude of silent TV’s flashing blue lights in every dark room up and down the hall, little Walter lying on the ground. I am watching my parents rush towards me. Walter was tased, Walter is in a coma. I was there. I saw it happen. They are distraught. I am defeated.

  “Kim, what happened?” What happened? What happened?” My mother wails over and over again. She is addressing me but she rushes past me and into the room where Walter lies silent. Eyes closed, breathing regulated by the machine next to him, narrow chest rising up and down with it. I watch the scene and am crushed by my mother’s pain. She grabs his lifeless hand and weeps onto it. She caresses it and prays on it and presses it to her cheek. Out of the corner of my vision I see a shimmer I try to turn to look at it but it evades my observation. I know it is there and it starts to dawn on me that it is Walter, not quite in his body but bobbing around it in confusion. I look down at my feet and I can just distinguish it at the edges of my peripheral vision. It frightens me and I back away down the hall. My mother does not notice. I can hardly breathe. I stare at the elevator doors and my distorted reflection in them to calm myself. I see myself, silvery, striated and smeared with unknown fingerprints. The park, the park, I went to the park, it was a beautiful day. I was so proud watching him play, stepping into his own self. And then … As I step into the open elevator, I pull up away from here and into mySELF. I see the dull gray warehouse walls in the pinprick just above and rush towards it.

  ∆∆∆

  Flutes. Stiff leather chair beneath me. Amy is sitting across from me, eyes closed. It reminds me of Walter. I gasp and jump up out of the chair. I rush to my purse and fumble at my phone. Two missed calls and one stark text. “Walter is hurt in the hospital. Will text more details later. Pray.”