Parallel U. - Sophomore Year

by Dakota Rusk

  They’d both spoken Greek.

  I looked around. The landscape was familiar…but it took a moment to place.

  It was a public park, filled with young couples, mothers with children, beggars, lovers, amateur athletes—all disporting themselves under a bright yellow sun.

  Philadelphus Park…I was in Philadelphus Park.

  In Indium.

  In Egypt.

  Just two short blocks from my mother’s house.

  I was home.

  16

  “I didn’t know you spoke Greek,” I said as I led Olwen out of the park and onto the boulevard.

  “Oh, but I do,” she said. “It’s why I was chosen to accompany you.”

  I gave her a sidelong look. “I thought it was because you already knew me.”

  She smiled. “That as well. But the Greek sealed it.”

  In fact, her Greek was rather stilted and formal, and structurally odd in places; I suppose because in her parallel, the language had evolved somewhat differently from its classical roots. But she did well enough to get by. And after all, she was only going to be here a short while.

  Even so, there was something about her—about her convenient Greek, and her casual attitude—that under any other circumstances would have put me on my guard; but here and now, it was just impossible. Everywhere I turned, I was met by familiar sights and sounds—even smells—a rush of sensations I thought I’d never experience again. I felt almost intoxicated; in fact I soon found myself babbling like I’d had too much to drink.

  “This is the restaurant where my mother threw a party for me after I took first place in hand-to-hand in the pan-Roman games back in 2575. If you look through the window—” Here I cupped my hand over the glass and peered into the dark interior—“you can see a photo they took that night, hanging over the reception stand.”

  Olwen made a token show of having a glance, but it was clearly just a polite gesture. Then she said, “2575? I’m sorry—is that meant to be the year?”

  “Yes; sorry, it’s different here. 2575 AUC, for Ab Urbe Condita—‘from the founding of the city.’ The city being Rome, of course. Back at Parallel Prime it’s AD, for Anno Domini—‘the year of our Lord.’ I’m guessing you don’t do that one in Parallel 17, either.”

  Olwen raised one eyebrow. “No, we do not.”

  She didn’t say how they did mark their years, and I was too excited to care. “That’s it, up ahead,” I said as we turned a corner and the familiar white marble apartment building rose up in the sky before me. “That’s home. We’re on the twelfth floor; there’s a balcony—you can just see it.” I pointed. Again Olwen made an appreciative noise, but it was clear she was only being courteous.

  And then, amazingly—astonishingly—I was at the front door, and Peros the Seleucid doorman was standing there, just as he always was, in his bright yellow livery and wide-brimmed hat. I called out to him, a bit more exultantly than I ever had before.

  I could see that it surprised him; but it didn’t seem to displease him. He smiled widely and said, “My lady! I wasn’t told to expect you.”

  “It’s a surprise!” I was aware that I was gushing; and in fact Peros took a very slight step backward, as though fearful I might try to hug him or something. I gestured above us. “Is everyone in?”

  “Your honored mother and sisters are at home, to the best of my knowledge,” he said, “unless they departed by way of the garage. Would you like me to ascertain?”

  “No, no,” I said—again, too loudly, too energetically. I couldn’t seem to control myself. I was so excited. “I want to just walk in and make everyone faint from shock.”

  He smiled weakly, as though uncertain of how he was meant to react; then he opened the door and held it for me. As I passed through it, Olwen stepped up to follow me, and I heard Peros clear his throat; I looked over my shoulder and said, “It’s all right, she’s with me.”

  And then we were in the elevator—its slight grinding and humming like a hymn of welcome; funny, the little things in your everyday life that you don’t even notice, that you don’t realize have become so much a part of you—and then we were on the twelfth floor, and the door slid open.

  My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst right out of my chest.

  I stepped out, and there I was: delivered back home—the place I grew up, the place I knew better than any other anywhere, in any parallel. The shape of the room, the lines of the furniture, the play of colors across the expanse of carpeting—even the exact resonance of the silence—it all came back to me instantly. I was like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle, long lost, which had just been put back in place with the others; and the fit was still perfect.

  “You have the whole floor?” Olwen asked from just behind me. I’d almost forgotten about her.

  I nodded. “My mother’s kind of rich.”

  “So I see,” she said, and she ran a finger along the spine of an ivory sculpture of a panther. “These pieces are very fine.”

  I was a little surprised to hear this; but I supposed she was right. The trappings of wealth had never meant much to me—artworks, silver table services, lavish clothes—but I’d grown up surrounded by them. I just took them all for granted, because my interests lay elsewhere.

  I was just giving the room a reappraising look when the housekeeper, Brynja, entered from one of the adjacent corridors, carrying a tray of breakfast dishes. I was afraid she might drop them when she saw me—she’d always been fond of me, and I of her, and it had been so long since we’d seen each other—but in fact she just smiled and said, “My lady! I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “No,” I said, a bit deflated. “It’s a surprise.”

  “Shall I tell your mother?” she asked. “She’s just in her room. She hasn’t made up for the day yet.”

  “No, thanks, I’d like to see her expression when I walk in on her.”

  Brynja looked past me and scowled a bit; I realized she was scrutinizing my guest.

  “This is Olwen—” I almost said “a friend,” but at the last moment said instead, “a traveling companion. Can you see that she gets a cup of tea or something, while I’m in with Mother?”

  “That would be most very welcome,” Olwen said in her stiff-necked Greek.

  Brynja led her away, and I dashed down the hallway to my mother’s bedroom. I was in a fury of excitement; I couldn’t wait to see her reaction when I just appeared before her—she might gasp, or faint, or scream—she’d certainly cry…

  But in fact, what happened was very different. I reached her door, paused to collect myself, then turned the handle and entered.

  She was still in bed, propped into a sitting position by her pillow, and was going through some letters that had obviously arrived that morning. She looked up at me and her eyes brightened. “Fabia, sweetheart!” she said. “What a surprise!”

  And then the thing I’d never imagined would happen, happened: I myself fell to pieces. I ran over to her, fell onto her breast, and sobbed like a baby.

  She lay still as I caterwauled into her dressing gown. She seemed stunned by my behavior; but within moments she softened, and began stroking my hair. “There, there,” she said. “Who ever knew my stalwart, stout-hearted daughter had such a tender heart?”

  “It’s—just—been,” I said through wracking sobs, “such a—long—time.”

  “I’m sure it must seem so,” she said; “but darling, you’re a grown woman now. You’re bound to be apart from us for ever greater durations.”

  She kissed the top of my head, and I sat back up again, holding her hand. I sniffled up the last of my sobs and said, “I’m sorry. It’s just…it was awful. I was stuck, trapped—I couldn’t get home—they told me home wasn’t there anymore—“

  She put her forefinger to my lips to silence me. “Your home will always be here,” she said; “though in time—it’s true, you’ll see—this will even cease to feel like home to you. You’ll have made a place for yourself somewhere else; some
where uniquely your own. And then it will be my turn to come to you.”

  I was too emotional to say anything more; I was afraid of a new squall of tears. I just nodded and looked back down at our intertwined hands. Mine was so young and brown and strong; hers was pale and spotted—I could see the veins through the skin.

  I looked up at her face, and saw that she was much older than I remembered. I wondered whether my being away so long had aged her, or whether she’d looked like this the last time I saw her but I just hadn’t bothered to notice.

  She patted my forearm. “Let me get dressed, now,” she said. “Go and greet your sisters. They’ll be happy to see you.”

  I obediently got to my feet, but I seriously doubted that Drusilla or Vipsania cared very much whether I was home for the holiday or still stranded at Parallel U. We’d never been close, and I was pretty certain they’d never given me a thought in all the time I was away.

  But no sooner had I come back into the entry hall than both girls—who had obviously heard I’d arrived—came swooping down on me, battering me with kisses and embraces and a stream of chatter I couldn’t make much of, as they were continually speaking over each other.

  “Brynja said you were back—I couldn’t believe—”

  “—long are you staying? Did you come alone? Do you have a boyfriend or—”

  “—got you a present just in case—Drusilla didn’t, I told her to but—”

  “—see what I have to wear for Sol Invictus dinner; you’ll die of envy—”

  They took me by the hand—one each—and led me to where their own rooms sat on opposite sides of the corridor from each other. There was a brief tug of war with me in the middle, as they vied for which room I’d be taken into; Vipsania, being the taller and stronger (though the younger), won, and soon I was seated on a chair by her wardrobe, from which she removed outfit after outfit to display for me, while Drusilla kept bobbing in from across the hall, bringing samples of her own gowns and dresses.

  I was surprised by this attention; as I said, before I’d left for Parallel U. my sisters and I had had very little to do with each other. And it was true that, even now, they didn’t seem wildly interested in me; they asked virtually nothing about my life on campus or the long time I’d been away without explanation. I had no doubt this new enthusiasm for me was due to my novelty; I’d been gone for ages, and now here I was—somebody almost new they could show off to, and tell all their stored-up gossip and anecdotes to.

  Even so, I felt like I’d wronged them in thinking they didn’t care about me. And there was something about them—each a year older and more beautiful, more womanly than the last time I’d seen her—that I felt once again like I might cry. They were obviously vain and silly; but they were growing up fast, and I was so proud of them.

  And it turned out that they had missed me, in their own way…which involved each blaming the other for my having abandoned them.

  “I told Drusilla you wouldn’t stay away for Sol Invictus,” Vipsania said as she folded a sheer silk chemise over her arm, “no matter how mad you were for the way she treated you during the last Olympiad.”

  Drusilla gasped in indignation and for a moment I thought she might throw one of the shoes she was showing me at Vipsania’s head. “Mad at me? I like that! You’re the one who drove her away by accusing her of taking your ruby earrings.”

  “You thought she took them too! Everybody thought so.” She looked at me and said, “I’m sorry, Fabia. But you know how you are. You can’t blame me. And I did apologize when I found out I was wrong.”

  I was a little surprised by this; I couldn't remember any of the incidents they were describing; I suppose all the more momentous things I’d been through at Parallel U. had crowded them out. But I didn’t have time to ponder on it, because Drusilla renewed her attack, and the argument threatened to degenerate into a catfight.

  I thrust an arm between them. “Please stop it,” I said; “neither of you had anything to do with me staying away. The truth is, I just couldn’t get back—I was stuck. The Terminus Engine—it’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now, I’m just glad to be here. For a while I didn’t even think here was there anymore.”

  The girls gave each other a concerned look; then Vipsania muttered, “You always were a strange one.”

  Rather than get angry, I laughed; it was so wonderful, so blessedly delightful to be here, having my sisters fight over me and insult me—my sisters who I’d honestly thought I’d never see again! And suddenly it seemed like Parallel U. itself was the fantasy, just a dream that was now evaporating in the solid, undeniable reality of this place, these people—the home that made me and which I never should’ve left.

  Brynja appeared at the door. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but your guest says she’s got to be going now, and there’s something you’re meant to do with her first.”

  “Oh, yes—of course.” I sprang up from the chair. I’d almost forgotten Olwen.

  “Who’s your guest?” asked Drusilla, following me out of the room. “Is it a boy?”

  “It’s not a boy. It’s a witch.”

  Silence behind me; but I knew my sisters were repeating the look I’d just seen them share.

  I met Olwen in the entry hall. “I don’t mean to rush you, but I’m certain this good woman”—she nodded at Brynja—“has her share of chores to attend, and she can’t do them if she’s busy looking after me. So with your blessing, I’ll take my leave.”

  “Of course, of course—but please, let me introduce my mother first. Brynja,” I said, turning to the housekeeper, “see if Mother’s got her face on yet.”

  “Actually, I’ll have to insist on meeting her,” Olwen said; and she withdrew from her ample sleeve a small digital phone. “I’m meant to record a video of you together, for the other students to see.” She gestured as Drusilla and Vipsania appeared in my wake. “And—these are your sisters? They’re welcome to take part as well.”

  “A video?” Vipsania said. “Of us?—Wait, I want to change my—”

  “No changing clothes,” I said firmly. “Olwen was kind enough to escort me here, I’m not making her wait while you try on every single thing in your closets.”

  “Can I just brush my hair?”

  “No. It’s already perfect, and you know it.”

  She pouted. “It could be more perfect.”

  Mother appeared, still in her long silk dressing gown and with her face delicately painted; she was just putting on the second of two opal earrings. “I couldn’t help hearing the commotion out here,” she said. “Brynja says your guest is leaving?”

  “Yes; Mother, this is Olwen, from the university.”

  “Charmed,” Olwen said, shaking my mother’s hand.

  “Enchanted,” Mother responded; and I wondered at their choice of words. Everything about this whole day seemed a little bit of both.

  Olwen handed the phone to me. “Would you happen to know how to operate this device? I’ve no experience with the likes of it, and I’m not keen to learn.”

  “What’s this?” Mother asked, as I set the video feature running and handed it back to Olwen.

  “We’re shooting a video for Fabia’s school,” said Drusilla. “She won’t let us change clothes for it.”

  “A video?” Mother said. She pulled the two girls in front of her. “Stand in front of me, darlings. I don’t want anyone to see I’m still in house dress.”

  “Just aim it at us,” I told Olwen. “You should be able to see our image in the little screen.”

  “So I do,” Olwen said. “That means it’s functioning?”

  “That means it’s functioning.” I looked into the small red light and smiled. “Hello, everyone!” I said in English. “Amazing as it may seem, I’m speaking to you from my actual home in Parallel 24, with my mother and sisters, and what can I tell you—I’m overjoyed to see them again, and to be with them here, in our very own home, where I see so many familiar things around me,
and where I can look out the windows I’ve known since I was a little girl.” Just to make sure I was getting the code word across, I repeated it more earnestly, “I can see them right now—the windows opening on to the world of my birth. I’m very happy, and I wish you all a joyous winter holiday, and I’ll see you soon!”

  After that, I couldn’t think of anything else to say; so I motioned Olwen to hand the phone back to me. I checked the video to make sure it had recorded, then gave it back to her.

  I turned to find my family looking at me oddly.

  “You realize none of us understood a thing you just said?” my mother asked.

  “I know,” I replied. “It’s for the students I left behind. English is what we speak on campus. Didn’t you know that?”

  She shook her head. “Young people today. I’ll never understand you.”

  I told Mother that I was showing Olwen out, after which I wanted to take a short walk.

  “Of course, darling—do as you like,” she said. “But try to be back in time for dinner. We’re having a few guests.”

  I gave her a sly grin. “And would Uriel Sapir happen to be one of them?”

  She looked surprised at the idea. “No, dear; just a young couple who’ve moved onto the sixth floor. They’re very sweet. The girls adore them. Why do you ask about Uriel Sapir?”

  I blushed. “Well, I just thought…” I summoned up my courage, determined to broach the delicate subject with her. “Mother, it’s very kind of you to invite guests to entertain Vipsania and Drusilla, but this is your house; you should have people you like here, as well.” My blush grew deeper. “Especially people you like very much.”

  She looked completely astonished. “You mean Uriel Sapir?” she said, a slight edge of laughter to her voice. “Really, Fabia, I think you ought to lie down. I don’t understand a thing you’ve said these past twenty minutes. Uriel Sapir, of all people! Why, he’s more an old woman than I am!”

  17

  I was so perplexed by what my mother said that I could barely think straight as I rode the elevator to the ground floor. But Olwen kept me from being too preoccupied by my confusion, by filling the air with empty but polite commentary on how dignified my mother was, how lovely my sisters were, and so on.