When It All Goes Still

by Allison Mullinax

  “Hey slick, late night?” Eero calls from the next stall.

  I roll my eyes, not wanting to chat, and certainly not wanting any company. “Couldn’t sleep. The assignment was a drag, and I’m fucking restless,” I say, telling a half truth.

  “Couldn’t be as bad as Cerre’s assignment. It took her over three hours to shift. Arden was concerned all of her wouldn’t make it back after being in limbo that long. She’s been in the Health Division since last night for checks and scans. Might not make it to graduation after that fuck-up.” This explains the lack of bodies around the division this afternoon. “I’m headed down to see her after lunch if you want to get out of those four walls you stare at all day,” Eero shouts through the steam and pelting water.

  “Can’t. I’m headed to the gym facility. Might catch up with you later.” Not a half-truth this time. Just a lie.

  “I hear you. Probably hit the gym myself later on.”

  I rinse the suds from my body and grab my towel from the hanger, pulling it across my dark skin. Shaking my head back and forth, water is sent flying. I wipe the steam from the mirror, looking at myself as Eero sings in the shower, some shit song he’s picked up from his assignment. Purple half-moons line my eyelids. Fuck I need a nap.

  ****

  Back in my room I throw on a white T-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. Clothing hasn’t changed much in the past three hundred years. I blame this on the nonexistent advancement of civilization during the years after The Occurrence. Falling back on my bed, my bare feet dangle off the side.

  And as I close my eyes, her face flashes behind my lids. Her alluring eyes are looking at mine, and her lips are mouthing my name. “Nope,” I say to no one in particular. Abruptly standing, I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers, kicking the edge of the bed. “I will not go back,” I say aloud again.

  I don’t need to go back. Sure, she will wonder where I am. She might look around the restaurant, wondering what it was that kept me from showing up. And that’s when it happens. I’m picturing her gaze scanning the faces of people like she did in the store today, looking for me. And I’m imagining myself standing there when she finds me, and those lips with my name on them, spreading into a smile. “Fuck it.” I throw open my wardrobe, searching for something that easily blends into 2016, knowing it’s a joke because in the presence of a girl like that, nothing blends easily. It fucking radiates.

  Sliding my arms into a red and black flannel shirt, I roll the sleeves up and attach the leather bracelet over my wrist to disguise the glowing numbers. I throw on a pair of boots, and realize I’ve decided to risk it all again. This is why my ass is always in trouble. But somehow it doesn’t matter. Yep. She’s definitely a witch.

  The hallways to the living quarters are livelier than before. People are used to my introverted nature when it comes to socializing, so no one thinks much about my lack of friendly banter along the way.

  I pass Eero and Torrin at the door to the outside. Eero is short in height, but he makes up for it in width. His muscles are popping out, begging for relief from the confinement of his tight T-shirt, and Torrin has to stand a good two feet behind him to fit down the hallway. Torrin’s bright yellow hair and glasses reflect the sunlight peeking in through the cracked door, and I squint, covering my eyes. “Hey, Traveler,” Torrin says, and I nod in his direction.

  “How is Cerre?” I ask Torrin, who is obviously distraught over his lover’s condition.

  “Her scans are good. Her physician cleared her about an hour ago. She’s in a meeting with Arden now. Authority next.” The ground is like a magnet for his eyes.

  “The seven spots are occupied for this semester. She’s put in two years of work. Maybe she will be out with a strike one.” I try to comfort him, and he seems as taken off guard by this as I am.

  “Yeah. Maybe. Not many Observers get those strikes you’re talking about, though.” There’s a hint of accusation in his tone that has me raising an eyebrow at him. He quickly relents. “I’m just upset. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Torrin shifts his weight from one foot to the other, picking at a loose fingernail on his thumb.

  “Understandable,” I say, as I push open the doors and try to exit before I let my temper get the best of me.

  I take a short outdoor walk to the Shifting Division. I’ve made it through without being noticed, and if Arden is with Cerre, then I can expect them to be nowhere near the shifting chambers. Authority will be occupied with her after that, so I have enough time to crawl back into my chamber while everyone is busy. Cerre has unintentionally provided me with cover.

  This makes the second time my machine has been calibrated to shift back to its previous location. I pause with both hands resting on my hips, staring at the machine that is about to send me back to Johanna Martin. This time it isn’t for the good of our civilization. This time it isn’t necessary. I can’t pinpoint the reason I feel a longing and a need to get back to her. I only know that I want to. And for some reason it feels like enough.

  Chapter Six

  Johanna

  “Mary-Beth Martin, where are you? I cannot believe you did that,” I yell, coming in the front door. I kick my running shoes off in the foyer and throw my bag across the banister of the stairs. “Just wait until Andrew finds out.” I make my way through to the kitchen and to the refrigerator, slinging its door open. The bottles of various condiments rattle in protest. “MB?” I realize that she isn’t answering me. Closing the refrigerator, I see a note plastered to its door, secured with a photo magnet of Andrew and I as kids. He has his arm draped around me, and a water gun in the other hand, shooting me in the face. I remember the day Dad took the picture, smiling at the memory before bringing the sweet tea jug to my mouth.

  “Sweetest, Dearest, Loveliest Johanna:

  Don’t kill me. I’m carrying your nephew after all. I have an appointment late this afternoon in Madison. I’m afraid that we won’t make it back before the time I promised your wallet thief/good Samaritan to meet us. Pregnancy brain. Again…carrying your nephew! Andrew and I won’t be back for dinner. Please Jo…go anyway. For me.

  Your most favorite sister-in-law,

  MB”

  I choke back a gulp-full of tea and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, slamming the jug down on the counter. I tear the note from the magnet and reread her words before crumbling it up and basketball-tossing it into the trash can. “Then I’m not going either,” I say to no one. I pull out my cell phone and send MB a quick text, “No way,” and then head up to my room for a quick rinse. After a long, weird day, nothing sounds better to me than a hot shower.

  Traversing the stairs slowly, I cover my ribs with one hand as if to hold them inside me. They’ve been throbbing ever since I ran into him. My other hand is bracing the banister for support. Faintly, as if miles away, I hear the humming in my brain start again. A constant low frequency buzz. Pausing halfway up the stairs, I rub my temple, deciding that a nap might do me some good as well.

  I enter my room and see that the ever-persistent Mary-Beth has spread one of my rarely worn sundresses across my bed. Its mint-green fabric is contrasting against the white comforter. I pull my cell phone out and snap a shot of it, sending the picture to MB with the caption, “Since when did you become a pimp?” Laying the phone on the dresser, I walk into the bathroom, undressing along the way. My work clothes puddle on the floor.

  What in the world is MB thinking? She meets this stranger for all of five minutes, and she’s ready to throw me at him like meat to the wolves. The shower rain momentarily drowns out the sound in my ears as I wash away the Alabama heat.

  I step out of the shower, toweling off, and smother my skin with my favorite grapefruit lotion. The smell reminds me of the trip to Florida we took when I was thirteen years old. We drove for miles through the state of Alabama to the Florida panhandle, stopping along the way at road-side shops and farmer’s markets. One of my favorite pictures of my mother was taken on that trip. I can still see he
r standing underneath the branches of a grapefruit tree, laughing candidly at my dad holding the camera. The wind manipulating her dark curly hair, and her eyes full of happiness.

  I swaddle my body in a terrycloth robe and run a comb through my hair. I decide that a cool glass of Pinot Grigio wouldn’t kill anyone, but maybe it will kill the ringing in my ears. I’m already anticipating the cool wood under my bare feet as I hit the stair landing.

  It isn’t the humming in my head, but the loud rapping on the front door that startles me. My foot slips, and it sends me sliding down the steps on my stomach like a five-year-old on a slip n’ slide. I scream out in pain as the last step catches me directly in my side. Rolling onto my back, I’m unable to take a deep breath from the throbbing.

  “Hey. Johanna?” I hear someone calling from the other side of the front door. I’m lying flat on my back on the floor, staring at the wooden door, absolutely certain that it was Traveler’s voice on the other side. “Are you okay?” he shouts, his voice sounds panicked.

  I want to say something back, but I can’t breathe. I want to tell him to go away. I don’t understand why he is here, or how he found here to begin with.

  “I’m opening the door,” he yells as a warning. I’m completely frozen. Mary-Beth is going to be so mad at herself when she finds me murdered on the original oak floors of this house. Serves her right! I try to call out to him to say, “No,” but all that leaves my lips is a rush of whispery air and a whimper. Perfect.

  I see the front door cautiously being opened, his black boot pressing into the doorframe, and then the caramel skin around his green eyes creasing as he sees me on the floor.

  “Oh Fuck. Are you all right?” His deep voice reverberates in my chest as he comes closer. I’m wheezing for air, so I can’t get any words to formulate.

  “What happened? Are you alone?” He’s asking me questions and looking around, but like in the store, I can’t think straight with the buzzing. He’s kneeling beside me, his face directly over mine.

  He places a hand underneath my neck, causing my wet hair to sizzle, and then he lazily lifts me to a sitting position on the bottom step. Is my hair burning? “Slow breaths. I asked you what happened?” His hand is still wrapped around the back of my neck. I look at his face, and then the humming is gone. The room is quiet and still, as though an invisible vacuum has sucked the sound waves away.

  I blink back, carefully shake my head, and turn to stare at him. Patting the back of my head, feeling for singed hair, I’m stunned to find it’s completely dried. His eyes are intently examining me. “I’m okay. I fell. Why are you here, Traveler?” He bites his bottom lip the way he did in the store, his eyes lingering on my lips as I speak. He quickly stands, prompting me to jump at the sudden movement.

  “I came to tell you I won’t be able to meet you and your family for dinner. I didn’t have a way to contact you other than this.” He throws his hands around, gesturing toward my house, though he seems unconvinced of his words. “Are you hurt?”

  “Well, yeah, kind of.” I try to stand, sending a rogue yelp escaping from my mouth.

  “Sit down,” he commands. I glare at him defiantly, but I still end up sitting on the step looking up at him, as if I were waiting to be told what to do next. This is ridiculous.

  He walks into the kitchen taking purposeful strides. “What are you doing? That’s my kitchen.” My words wobble in my throat, betraying my authority over the house.

  “I’m aware. Where’s the drinking glasses?” I hear cabinets closing and drawers opening.

  “Cabinet by the sink. Uhhh, I’m fine. Gonna get up now.” He’s right in front of me before I’m able to lift myself up, and his strong hands are under my arms, guiding me to my feet before I even realize what’s happening.

  “Drink this.” He places a glass of water in my hands.

  “Look, I know this came from my kitchen and all, but still. I don’t take drinks from strangers. My brother is a police officer.” The last part comes out sounding more threatening than I mean for it to.

  He raises an eyebrow at me, and I find myself bringing the glass to my lips and taking a small sip. He’s staring at my mouth again. “Do you make a habit of showing up at women’s work places and homes?” I question him, suddenly aware I’m still in my robe. I pull it closer together and tighten the belt around my waist.

  “Stop dropping things, including yourself, and I’ll have no reason to show back up.”

  Walking into the kitchen, I place the glass in the sink, acutely aware he’s standing in the foyer watching my every move. The feeling of his stare grazing over me creates pinpricks against my skin.

  “Well, bad news for you, I seem to have a case of vertigo ever since you chased me into the woods.” I peek at him over my shoulder.

  “Seriously, woman, I didn’t chase you.” He has his hands on his hips like he’s ready for a fight. And though his unannounced presence has me wary, I can’t help but laugh at his defensiveness.

  “So, you came all the way here from…wherever you’re staying…to tell me you weren’t coming? I could have saved you the trip, buddy. My brother and his pregnant-brained wife already stood us up. You’re late to the party. Besides, I wasn’t coming either.” I add the last unnecessary part into the conversation to mend my bruised ego as I walk back into the foyer, trying to hide my unease.

  “You look hurt.” He motions toward me with his chin.

  “I don’t even know you, save for the fact you keep popping up wherever I’m at today. Trust me, I’m not hurt.” Narrowing my eyes, I fold my arms across my chest.

  “I meant your side, not your feelings.” His expression is stone-cold, almost unreadable.

  Well, this day just keeps getting better. I can’t stop making a complete idiot out of myself.

  He walks closer to me, and I catch myself backing up to the bottom step, my heel hitting the wood as he stops a few inches in front of me.

  “I don’t bite, Johanna. I’m not a bad guy.” Why is he looking at my mouth again?

  “I, ummm,” is all that I can manage to say.

  “Let me help you back up the stairs, and then I’ll leave for good. You’re on your own if you crash down any steps or lose any more belongings from here on out.” He raises both hands in the air. I can see Andrew’s spit flying across the room as he yells at me for this one. I have a flashback to his worried face during the car ride this morning.

  “I think I can manage myself. I was just startled by—” My words are cut short by another knock on the door. For the love of all that is holy! What is happening around this house lately? Can’t a girl take a shower and drink some wine in peace?

  “Who’s that?” Traveler cranes his neck toward the front of the house, eyes wide.

  “Santa Clause, the Tooth Fairy, at this rate it could be anyone.” I roll my eyes and slightly limp over. Traveler scoots himself out of sight, and I throw him a confused look. “I swear if you’re some fugitive on the run, I will shoot you standing on that very stair.” My suspicion apparently amuses him, and a raspy laugh shakes out of his chest. I glare at him in return, and he waves his hand, encouraging me to answer.

  I pull the heavy knob, and see Katie standing in front of me. My urge to slam it in her face is overwhelming.

  “Jo, hey hun.” I can’t stand the way that girl draws out her words. We aren’t friends. Not anymore. Katie Carter was actually my best friend in the entire world. I overlooked her imperfections and cold heart because she chose me to be her friend. To be chosen by Katie was better than being targeted by her. I ignored her classic mean-girl antics. I ignored everything that was bad and ugly about her, but then I grew up and stopped being her follower. And that’s when she aimed her missiles at me.

  “Mary-Beth isn’t here,” I say pointedly.

  “Oh, I know, hun. I honestly just needed to drop this list off for her to look over later. It’s concerning the engagement party. No need to send Max back by, right?” She grins at her clever remark.
“Oh, speaking of, are you okay after last night? I’m so sorry about your little…spill. I had thought after so many years you were somewhat over the whole Max ordeal. I didn’t mean to drop the news on you like that. How inconsiderate of me. I saw the way you were gazing at my hand, all shock and awe. You know I care about you, Jo. I would have hoped the news of our engagement didn’t cause you such distress.” The apparent evil oozes from her mouth.

  I open my mouth, prepared to massacre her with my words, when I feel warmth spreading across my lower back. I feel his fingers gently splayed along my side as he presses himself against me. The door opens a little more, and I watch Katie’s face drain of all color as she takes in his handsome features. He leans his chin against the top of my head. “Hey baby, are you about ready?” Traveler’s seductive voice spills out onto the front porch. He looks down at Katie in fake surprise. “Oh…hi there. My apologies, I thought you were some pesky salesman.”

  Blinking far too quickly, her mouth slightly agape, it takes her a few seconds to recover from the unexpected encounter. Katie’s narrative sounds much better to her when I’m pining for what she has. And it certainly doesn’t involve a handsome stranger with his arm around my waist.

  “Oh. I didn’t realize you had company, Jo. I’m Katie.” I find myself giddy when she stumbles over her words in an obvious hunt for an explanation.

  “Pleasure, Katie. Johanna and I were getting ready to leave for dinner. Better hurry, babe, we don’t want to be late,” he says, as his lips make contact with my hair moments before he leaves us standing in the doorframe.

  “I’ll see that MB gets this.” My heart drums in my chest as I close the heavy door on Katie’s shocked expression.

  I turn to face Traveler. “Margaritas are on me. You, my dear wallet thief, are brilliant. Now help me up the stairs so I can get ready.” He stands there for a moment thinking this over.