I am still searching the crowd for Cricket, Dani—anyone. But I don’t recognize a single soul. It’s as if Alex and I are the only ones here. I hear myself saying, “This feels so nice,” laying my head on his shoulder. Whoa, did I just say that? What is going on?
“I knew it would,” he replies, his fingers entwining in my hair. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” I answer, incredibly. What? Is my brain on auto-pilot? Is this a side effect of lightning-induced trauma? Insanity? Is this part of my missing memory? Alex and me? Did we have something before?
“From the first time I met you, on the sidewalk in front of school…when you dropped your books? Remember? I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
Alex was one of my first friends. He didn’t judge me or ask too many questions. He was just there. “I remember…” I agree. What is missing here? Something I have forgotten? I want to ask, but I’m afraid.
Good thing, he answers for me. “Even though we were just friends…I never told you how I felt. Did you know?”
I think back to what Cricket said when she was putting on my makeup…. Everyone knows he has the hots for you.
Am I really that clueless? That I don’t even know when a guy likes me?
“Not really,” I admit. “I mean, you’re a good friend…I guess I never thought—”
“Well now you know,” he says, kissing me on the mouth, his lips lingering slightly, and, surprisingly, leaving too soon. “I want to be with you, Tess. I want you to be mine.”
What? Is he asking me to be his girlfriend? Where the heck is Cricket when you need her? I am seriously freaking out here.
Alex pulls away a little. “Well? What do you think? You all right?”
I must look pale and nervous, one step away from falling into a heap on the floor, I’d guess. “Yes—I mean, I’m fine. I just—I don’t know what to say.”
“How about yes? Yes works.”
“I—” I am scrambling for words. I can’t deny that at that very moment, I feel so good next to him…his warmth, his sweet smiles and whispers. A girl could seriously get lost in it. And I do like him. I mean, what’s not to like? He’s cute, nice, and he adores me. What more could a girl ask for?
With a lighthearted sigh and a nervous laugh, I kiss him back. “You’re so good to me,” I say.
“So that’s a yes?” Alex says hopefully, looking intently at me.
I have no idea what I’m saying, but it tumbles out anyway. “Yes.”
The music picks up tempo and the crowd starts jumping up and down, in sync. Alex woots and picks me up off the floor. With my feet dangling behind me, he says, “I got my girl!”
At about the same time, Cricket shows up with a guy she’s apparently been dancing with. For a second, I feel guilty, knowing she likes Alex, but the smile on her face makes me feel better. “Hey guys,” she gleams. “This is Kurt.”
Kurt and Alex already know each other, and they start talking about some computer program while Cricket and I take a seat. “So, who’s this guy?”
“Kurt? I just met him. Cute, huh?”
I nod, debating how much to tell her about Alex.
“And what about Alex?” She asks. “You two were dancing awfully close…” Her grin says, I told you so. Ok, so maybe I was wrong about her having a crush on him.
“Yeah…I think he just asked me to be his girlfriend.”
Cricket nearly spits out her soda. “What? Oh, this is news!!”
“It was a surprise to me, too…believe me.” Alex and Kurt are still chatting away and I realize that I’m staring at him. It’s strange, to suddenly have this revelation about Alex that I’ve never had before. He kissed me…and I liked it.
“But, apparently a good one.”
“Mhm...”
“The way he picked you up out there on the dance floor…. That was seriously romantic. You are one lucky girl.”
Lucky. Now there’s a word that I’ve never really thought about myself…or at least not in the way that makes sense. To dodge a bullet is luck. To have a great guy choose me and tell me I’m beautiful? Can luck work both ways? Or is it something more determined? Luck is random, and it’s hard to see how something so good could just be random.
Alex sits down next to me and grabs my hand under the table. Oh my…I’m sitting at the Homecoming dance, holding hands with a guy. A foreign concept…but yet, real. As the others talk, I simply sit, admiring the lights and lanterns, the firm grip of Alex’s hand. This is definitely a memory to keep. Somewhere among the thrumming crowd of dancers, I catch a glimpse of Dani, the back of her dress, her head cocked slightly to one side, laughing in the charming way that makes her famous. The couple turns and I see Zach, looking lovingly at Dani first, then shifting his eyes in my direction. It’s too far away to tell his expression, but his gaze lingers for a few seconds, then turns again. Alex rubs his free hand up and down my forearm and smiles so sweetly, I could seriously taste it.
“Ok, so what time are we blowing this joint?” Cricket blurts out, jarring me loose from my first official romantic interlude. It’s as if someone cut the music and froze the glittering lights. I almost forgot. We had planned to leave early to go run around in a graveyard. Just what I want to do, now, after I’ve just had the warm fuzzies on the dance floor with Alex. I look at him, hoping he will suggest we just stick around.
“The dance only lasts until 9:00,” he says. “Let’s wait. That still gives us three hours to do whatever.”
Cricket jabs Kurt lightly in the side. “You wanna go out with us after the dance?”
He nods. “Sure. Where are we going?”
As Cricket tells the story again, Alex and I lock eyes and he reaches up and brushes a piece of my hair from my cheek. “Dance with me again?”
And I say, “I was hoping you’d ask.”
Zach
Did I just read that message correctly? My father wants me to destroy the memory chips and deliver the research logs to some “authority?” This puzzles me, given that his earlier messages indicated that I had some important role in learning about all this research. He even mentioned, specifically…. People destroy what they do not understand. Those words reverberate in my mind. How is it that now he wants me to destroy his research—or at least the part that involves me directly. Is he suggesting that I don’t understand it, that I never will? That I will somehow inevitably destroy it anyway? This is all getting far too confusing, and I find myself getting angry. What was the point of all his hard work, to have placed his mind in some alternate universe, only to have it end, by the hands of his own son? What could possibly be the logic in that?
I’m not confident in my ability to argue the point, but still, I have to try, so I send him another message:
September 10, 2012
TO: E.G.W.
FROM: Zach
RE: Logic
I feel I must clarify your last message. It seems you have asked me to destroy the memory chips and secure the research logs in a place you will designate. Is that correct? Also, I’m not sure I understand your logic in this request, given that you spent a good portion of your life working on this research. Not to mention the fact that you said people could destroy it if they do not understand it, which suggests to me that placed in the wrong hands, the outcome could prove disastrous. And who would be trustworthy and knowledgeable enough to be keep this information safe, if not me? If anyone has significant interest in this, I do. I mean, Tess—the woman I am purportedly going to marry someday—is basically the foundation upon which the research began and rests. It was because of her—her uniqueness, her significance—that time travel was made a reality. You said it yourself. It was as if time travel were indeed made for Tess Turner. How can it make sense that I not play a role in that…that I cannot somehow be provided insight into that which determines my own future?
And again, why am I continuing this discourse? I have no idea. Perhaps I am going crazy.
Sincerely,
&nb
sp; Zach
September 10, 2012
TO: Zach
FROM: E.G.W.
RE: Logic
Dear Son,
Believe me, I understand your thinking on this. Also, know that I have pondered every feasible facet of this wonderful, terrible gem, and I can come up with no other solution. Remember what I said before, about the thin line between truth and belief? If you believe something will happen, then that is enough. The “truth” of the matter can change, depending on circumstances, mood, perception—all things related to the mind’s emotional environment.
Let me ask you a rhetorical question, my dear Zach. What do most of the greatest love stories of our time—indeed, any time—have in common?
Why is he asking me about great love stories? Besides a few movies and the Shakespeare plays I had to read in English, love stories aren’t really my thing. Ok, one of the plays was Romeo and Juliet. Can’t be a greater example than that, right? So, I guess that’s as good a place to start as any. Known as the quintessential “star-crossed lovers,” Romeo and Juliet fall in love under hopeless circumstances—their families are sworn enemies and Juliet has been promised to another in an arranged marriage. Despite enormous obstacles, Romeo pursues the young Juliet and convinces her to marry him in secret, which ultimately causes both of their deaths.
All right. Movies. The last romantic movie I saw was Titanic. Again, hopeless circumstances, but whatever. A guy pursues a woman above him in social stature, convinces her that love means something more than appearances. He wins her, then dies and she spends the rest of her life pining away for him.
Ok, I’m not off to such a good start.
What do the greatest love stories have in common? Based on my limited knowledge, I’d have to say death—or the idea that reality will always screw up true love, either by killing one or both of them off, or by some other force keeping them apart. Happy endings are a myth.
I have no idea why my father is asking me this to begin with, but this is the answer I give him: Tragedy. I explain my reasoning using the stories I can remember.
To which he responds:
September 10, 2012
TO: Zach
FROM: E.G.W.
RE: Logic
Dear Zach,
Ironically, you are on the right track here. Indeed, the ideal is somewhat of a myth, even under perfect circumstances. The examples you gave me are based, of course, on imperfect circumstances, and sadly, the outcome is usually the same.
Let me give you an example.
A young prince marries a young woman that he chooses. She is perfect for him in every way—beautiful, healthy, intelligent, kind. She will make an outstanding mate, worthy of praise and admiration from his people. She is given a life of luxury and attention—everything she desires. They have children. The picture is complete. And yet, neither of them realizes the underlying forces at work. She feels unfulfilled and trapped in a world that expects too much of her. He is overwhelmed by responsibility. They grow apart. She wants to die. He seeks the love of another woman.
Now, I ask you again…what do all of the greatest love stories have in common?
Ok, this is going to be more difficult than I thought. If I were to guess, based on these particular stories, I’d have to say my answer hasn’t changed. Tragedy. Not even seemingly perfect love is immune to it. On the other hand, most of them seem to have at least one other thing in common: the man pursues the woman. But somehow, I’m guessing what he has in mind is more complicated than that.
September 10, 2012
TO: E.G.W.
FROM: Zach
RE: Logic
Well, for one, the man always pursues the woman—at least, traditionally. Also, no love is perfect, and even if it is perfect…something can always derail it. In other words, nothing is ever guaranteed.
September 10, 2012
TO: Zach
FROM: E.G.W.
RE: Logic
Precisely, my boy! Not even true love is guaranteed. And if we go through life under the assumption that it is, we will be sorely disappointed. We will cling to our beliefs to the detriment of truth, and that is no way to live.
So, let me be clear. You are, based on my limited, though fantastic insight, destined to be with Tess. I have seen you together. I have witnessed the love that you share. But despite this insight, I desire for you to live your life wisely. And to be wise, my dear son, is to have always a seed of doubt, and a passion for what you desire. To seek those desires in any manner that is artificial will not result in happiness. Rather, it will almost certainly end in heartache.
In short, I do not want you to do anything artificial that may jeopardize the truth that I have seen If you start making decisions based on what you believe will happen, rather than fight for what you want (or, better, pursue wholeheartedly what you must win), you will not like the results….or the results will not be the same
It is better, for you to destroy the mechanism that allows you to change circumstances, and proceed in a natural fashion. This means…you should get to know the girl that you will marry…fall in love with her, not the idea of her—nor the ideal. This will bring you what you desire. This will bring you happiness. And this will be the greatest love story that ever was, because it’s real, not based on our limited human perception.
This will be the greatest love story? While I understand what he’s saying in theory, being in doubt is not a desirable place to be, particularly with Dani in the equation. I must think about all of this…very carefully. Of course, I don’t want to go against my father’s wishes, but to be honest, I still have an inkling of uncertainty about him, only because I have neither heard his voice nor seen him. He did, however, say that having a “seed of doubt” is wise in life. I assume that means in all things.
Just before I get ready to shut down my computer, one last message comes through from him. It says:
To doubt is indeed healthy and wise, my son. Have you ever heard of the concept of “negative capability?” It is the ability of a person to exist independent of any predetermined constructs of either human ability or context. The poet John Keats actually coined the phrase in a letter to his brothers (he was, incidentally, criticizing a contemporary poet, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, whom he believed valued knowledge over beauty). Negative Capability, he wrote, is “when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason - Coleridge, for instance, would let go by a fine isolated verisimilitude caught from the Penetralium of mystery, from being incapable of remaining content with half-knowledge. This pursued through volumes would perhaps take us no further than this, that with a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration…”
For Keats, seeking beauty was far more important than trying to objectively explain or classify the natural world. Unique perception, individual insight…and a sense of awe and wonder…these things were the pinnacle of human experience.
If you want anything resembling happiness in life, it must be to have some comfort level with the mysteries and doubts inherent in it. Find out what you want, and claim it as yours, not because some scientific construct says you will, but because it is beautiful and quite simply, right.
That night, a memory surfaces in my dreams… it is Tess and me, and we are in a dark room, with a small light in front of us. It is the refrigerator. Then I realize we are in Tess’s apartment. I come up to her and touch her back, embrace her. This is the night we’ve been waiting for. I am going to ask her to marry me. I get down on one knee and retrieve the little ring box from my pants pocket…she is giggly and nervous, but adorable. And, she says yes.
When I wake, at that very moment, my brain feels as if it’s been charged with a volt of electricity. I feel it so intensely, the memory, as if it happened this very night. I think back through every detail of it, from the bright green color of the curtains, to Tess’s pink toenails, to the way the diamo
nd, set in white gold, catches every fraction of light like sparks. It is real.
Beautiful.
Right.
My father’s words…. Find out what you want, and claim it as yours, not because some scientific construct says you will, but because it is beautiful and quite simply, right.
Nothing this real and lovely could be anything but what I want, and right. There is no mystery or doubt in that.
Next time I communicate with him, I will ask him…why should I doubt?
From out of nowhere, these words flow into my mind:
Doubt is simply accepting that the path that ends in what is rightfully yours will meander at times…and will often have you floundering in many confusions and heartaches. But, stay the path, my son.
My father’s voice. But how? This is not something he has previously written, in his messages. Could it be that he is somehow communicating with me via the chip? Why not? I mean, it is the highest form of technology that has ever been discovered. Time travel, perpetual memory chips. It makes sense. The idea intrigues me, but I have to admit, also, that it makes me incredibly nervous. Now I really have to be careful what I do—or think.
It occurs to me, rather suddenly and startlingly: Perhaps all these messages and correspondence are from me. At some point in the future, I have time traveled far enough to find greater wisdom about all these things…and have devised a way to communicate to the past.
The thought literally almost brings me to my knees.
Tess
At 9:00, everyone starts filing out of the dance, chatting about who’s going where and what’s going on. Kurt joins us in the Hummer and we are sitting there jamming to a Coldplay song on the stereo before taking off. There is a bang on my window and I jump. “What the heck?” It’s Dani. I roll down the window.
“Hey, there’s an after party at John Davis’s house. You guys want to come with us?”
I look at Alex, then at Cricket, who is giggling and kissing Kurt’s cheek in the back seat. Alex shrugs. Cricket says, “Sounds like fun to me.” More giggles. I notice she is drinking something in a silver bottle, which Kurt puts inside his coat pocket.
Surfacing (Spark Saga) Page 12