Far Side of the Universe

by melanie de coster

  It stopped just like it had begun. The suns were shining bright, and when they looked up, the horizon was as peaceful as a sleeping baby. If they as well as the land around them weren’t soaked, they would have thought they’d imagined the hurricane-like outburst. They studied the cloudless sky. The storm had accomplished its goal.

  Arthur mumbled as if praying, “One might say it was training for the day it got really angry.”

  He spoke in a low voice, but they could all hear him in the newfound calm. No one contradicted him, not even Cosmo. Normally, he would have coolly responded with a rational, scientific reason to explain it all. For once, they would have relished Cosmo’s lecture. But he didn’t say a thing to Arthur, proof that what they’d experienced had shocked all of them.

  They resumed their walk, again not saying a word. Aidan and Sara weren’t talking this time. But their silence was different, more concentrated than it was several minutes earlier. As if they were on the lookout, in the vacuum of silence, for the tiniest sign of an oncoming weather disaster. It was on that day and moment that they noticed how silent Lalea was when they were far from any towns. Abnormally silent.

  Soon, the silence turned soft as a winter morning. The light had subtly shifted to white, as well as the air around them. Suddenly, the road was lost in a fog, and cold flakes clung like pearls to their hair that hadn’t had time to dry. Once again, they studied the sky, useless though it was. They were surrounded, almost encapsulated, in a white coating that muffled the sound of their footsteps and blocked out the suns. The snowflakes lost their soft roundness and revealed their treacherous intent. Within seconds, a blanket of snow had completely covered them, making it impossible to breathe except through their sleeves, which they had raised up to their faces to protect against the snowstorm. Aidan felt his eyebrows turning into frozen furrows and his hair into stalactites a second before blue returned to the sky. Winter’s abrupt arrival had surprised them as much as summer’s sudden return. They hesitated before moving on, fearing the fury of another unforeseen tempest defying all reason. Cosmo gave them the courage to continue by reminding them that as brutal as the storms had been along their route, the weather had quickly returned to normal. They hadn’t been in any real danger. What remained constant were the aqua blue skies and the mild, springlike sunshine. Cosmo assured them they had nothing to fear.

  Arthur almost added that they couldn’t be certain that beautiful weather would always return. Perhaps nature would choose to treat them with overwhelming cruelty and then forget to grant them any respite. But when he saw their tired, worried expressions as they eyed the road ahead, he realized they were having the same thoughts. They couldn’t stop in their tracks just because nature might be unkind. When in doubt or in the dark, it’s always best to keep moving.

  On the next stretch of road, they encountered a drought that sent them crawling on the dirt ground with throats as dry as buckled cardboard with dust stuck in the folds. They tumbled into a vortex of leaves, though no trees were in sight. They slipped on icy patches. They caught sight of an airplane idling at the end of a blurry, shaking road. They smelled the perfume of a thousand invisible flowers. The scenery itself never changed, even when they passed through seasons that they knew. It was the air around them that was constantly taking on a new month and weather event. The air cooled down or heated up in no logical order and never repeated itself. Weather changes, but rarely with such speed.

  The weather finally stabilized when something— other than a mirage— appeared on the horizon. They were able to make out roof tops of a village in the distance. On this last section of the road, all was calm with a pleasant temperature that took time to get used to. They kept their necks craned upward waiting for something new to fall on them. But the weather remained pleasant, and the sky was a crystal-clear blue all the way to the end of the road.

  They reached the town with a genuine sense of relief. Albin noticed that they always referred to hamlets as villages, even before knowing their size. This village was the first to have a sign bearing its name at the entrance. It was called Toutem. A man sat leaning against the name sign. His hat, which had seen more than a few days in the rain and shine, grazed the base of the letters. He was busy chewing on walnuts from a large basket next to him. At his other side was a wooden gourd. Everything was arranged so he could enjoy a minimum of effort.

  He scarcely looked up at the soaked and shivering travelers that were hugging their clothes that no longer provided much warmth. But the corners of his mouth did widen when he picked up another walnut and worked at cracking it open.

  Sara had the feeling that the man was supposed to talk to them, that he was like a sphinx whose job was to grant permission to enter the city. Therefore, she tried hard to stop her teeth from chattering—the most recent weather catastrophe had been really, really cold—and greeted the immobile man. She barely had time to call out to him when held up his hand to interrupt her, and then picked at a piece of shell between his teeth and spat it out. Next, he simply looked at them.

  It seemed that this disconcerting behavior was in fact customary on Lalea. Showing discretion, putting the brakes on curiosity. Often, the six companions must have seemed rude, particularly their relentless curiosity that had caused many stares. Fortunately for them, no one had been seriously offended. At least not yet.

  “You come from the fields that sing out the weather, right? No need to answer, the evidence tells the story. Me too, I’ve passed through it in my time. You’ve got guts, that’s for sure. Especially since I’ve heard it’s gotten much meaner over the years.”

  In reality, they could barely understand him. The man was eating half his words. It was like he couldn’t stop from chewing even without any walnuts in his mouth.

  “And you young people, where are you from?”

  Sara swallowed before saying, “We come from over there, Nonia. But really, from afar, from farther away than that.”

  Impassive, he nonchalantly picked up another walnut.

  “You come from afar, huh? Ah, why not, it’s not the strangest story I’ve heard. So could be you come from far away, and could be the weather’s gonna change. My bones are feeling the wind rising up, and these old bones don’t lie. My mind says you all ought not to be boasting so loud. The weather, it’s no longer the same, for sure, and there’re folks who mightn’t like that. Nothing is like before. Don’t forget that, my young friends, nothing is like it used to be.”

  His gaze was even more piercing and insistent when he said these last words. But they had no time to linger because the portal was already calling them. They were in such a hurry to leave that they missed the fact that these last words were the only ones the man had spoken clearly.

  After their departure, he picked up another walnut from the basket without even glancing back at the ones who had left so abruptly. As if reading a message on the lines of the nutshell meant for him only, he repeated, “Times are changing.” Then he went back to picking apart the nut.

  CHAPTER 14 HEAD HELD HIGH

  Sara was becoming closer and closer to Aidan. When he looked at her, he never forgot that she could walk, proud and free like the road belonged to her. He no longer noticed her limp muscles or trembling chin, only her grace that disguised it all. She had become lovely in the real world because that was the way he saw her.

  Albin would have given anything to be a man with hands that could clinch into fists so he could clobber Aidan. He had known Sara since childhood when he was learning nurses’ names in the hospital wing. Throughout the years, she had been a sister to him, his confidant, his light. Never once had he revealed his feelings for her. She was the only one who knew how to put him in his place and the only person he allowed to do it. Ever since Aidan’s arrival in their classroom, Sara had stopped teasing him, and he didn’t like admitting that he missed her comments steeped in irony.

  He was in need of an ally in his battle. He often sought out Cosmo to vent about every single grudge he held aga
inst his rival. He was hoping for Cosmo to map out a revenge strategy that would keep Aidan sidelined for a long time. But all Cosmo did was nod his head methodically. A behavior he was exhibiting more and more, in the classroom where he used to enjoy displaying his genius, and also at home. His parents were behaving in a civil, but cold manner that didn’t bode well. He was convinced they no long said a word to each other when he wasn’t there. He blamed himself for having innocently started the conflict and was frustrated that he wasn’t in a position to resolve it. Cosmo tried to understand their travels so he could provide his father with something much more helpful than experiments: real proof. He was positive that the energy his father was experimenting with in the laboratory wasn’t the only necessary component. His ignorance meant that he had nothing to add and therefore had to watch helplessly as the divide between his parents grew wider. Consequently, he was distracted when he lent an ear to Albin’s recriminations against Aidan. Meanwhile, Albin continued confiding in him because Arthur was too distracted, and Titiana was too nice.

  Yet, without their rivalry weakening, Albin and Aidan somehow came to appreciate each other or at least to recognize there was something worthy about the other.

  The school periodically organized outings that were supposedly academic but were really a pretext to relax the rules that teachers were already having difficulty enforcing within their classrooms. One such excursion would be accessible to those with mobility issues, which was highly unusual. The field trip was set to take place at a historic theater on the outskirts of the city, and they would go by bus. They left on time, a rarity, and arrived at the doorsteps of the theater before opening hours. The students, having talked the chaperones into letting them explore the city, broke off into small groups and were quickly out of sight of their teachers.

  Copying their schoolmates, the students from the class for outcasts headed down the main boulevard and ended up in front of an ice cream parlor. The flavors listed in the window display promised tastier treats than they were used to enjoying in the town of Sunnyville. In unison they decided to enter the tantalizing shop.

  Aidan placed their orders. It was easier than having to watch the shopkeeper’s expression change from friendly to annoyed as soon as he heard their struggled speech. The scoops were generous and filled up their entire bowls, just as their wheelchairs filled up the tiny eating space that hadn’t been designed with accessibility in mind. They couldn’t take a seat at the comfortable booths the owner had installed for his customers. Resigned, they backed up against the far wall as a red-faced server awkwardly placed trays on the arms of their wheelchairs. They had to move more carefully than ever to avoid toppling the colorful and delicious melting ice cream.

  They had barely gotten settled when some students appeared in the shop, also tempted by the unusual flavors and enormous scoops. It didn’t take long to catch sight of the mobility-challenged students who stood out against the narrow wall. Men, in a group, feel stronger and often sense an urge to prove themselves to their peers. The adults in the room, figures of reason and authority, were noticeably passive. The newly arrived students soon realized that no one would try to stop their usual tormenting comments reserved solely for the “misfits”. The adult bystanders looked away with expressionless faces, any vestige of civility or a duty to respond having disappeared. Faced with such liberty and tacit permission, the students stopped their teasing. One of them moved closer, a short, acne-faced teen wearing a dusty knit hat pulled down to his brows, a few strands of dirty blond hair sticking out. Following behind the pack as he entered the shop, he contrasted sharply with the respectable and well-behaved look that the others presented to the world. These same well-behaved guys encouraged the teen, Timmy, who had planted himself in front of Arthur and was taunting him as he dumped ice cream on his victim’s pants. For once, Arthur hadn’t been the one to knock over his own food. But this wasn’t very consoling.

  They were cornered, blocked against the damp wall, and at the mercy of a bunch of amoral teens. No way of escaping. Albin took one look at the room and realized that not a single adult would come to the defense of strangers. Strangers in more ways than one. How much torture would the gang and their crazy thug inflict before someone rescued them? Their eyes brimmed with hatred, unveiled, a kind that had grown stronger with every passing day of being forced to coexist with these different people. This chance moment gave them freedom to express the depth of their repugnance. In a flash, a dozen frenzied teens descended on them, spurred on by Timmy’s crazed act. Albin and his friends both felt and saw a surge of anger on their faces. Their fears were confirmed when Timmy pulled a switchblade out his coat pocket, sneering as he flipped open the blade. He, too, felt the weight of the ensuing minutes; he could bloody up the misfits and ensure a swifter acceptance among the offspring of Sunnyville’s most respected families.

  Aidan waited in suspense. In the past, he’d seen Timmy show off his steel blade but hadn’t believed he would ever use it. But Timmy proved him wrong when he leisurely pierced Sara’s cheek, waiting for the blood to trickle as Sara recoiled though unable to move away. A teen standing behind Timmy let out a whistle of disbelief and looked as if he were about to head out the door. The apparent leader of the group, a former friend of Aidan, gave the fleeing teen a look that called him to order. A look that said it was too late to back down.

  Seeing the game had already gone too far, Albin chose an offensive tactic. He surged forward and crushed Timmy’s feet with his chair, no longer concerned about spilling his melted ice cream. The messy blob landed on Timmy’s cheap jeans, flooding him from waist to knees. The tray clattered to the floor, followed by the bowl, which shattered into tiny colored shards. Albin’s siege came to a halt when the pack of guys blocked his exit. The smile on their leader’s face wasn’t mean-spirited, it was bloodthirsty. Timmy, whose face was distorted by rage, lunged towards Albin and brandished his knife, sputtering about the thousand different ways he would get revenge.

  Albin maneuvered himself another yard or so before being stopped. He was more vulnerable in his wheelchair than he had ever imagined. He knew he needed to act fast, overwhelm them with a force they would surely squelch since they far outnumbered him. No doubt they would stop him before he had time to run over more feet. All they had to do was deprive him of his wheels, and then he would be defenseless.

  But Albin kept his courage. He had read native Indian legends and the rules about not being a coward when facing death. His military father had influenced his oldest son more than he would ever know. Deliberately ignoring Timmy, he looked over at the one facing him, a good student who never caused trouble except when outside of school, and then slowly rolled backwards. Without thinking, Timmy stepped aside, giving Albin the perfect opportunity to ram his chair against Michael so hard that the leader of their enemies fell down on his knees, a position that must have been humiliating. Albin’s attack was cut short when his newly branded enemy’s sidekicks realized he was defenseless without his wheel chair, so they flung him to the ground like a filthy sack of garbage.

  They took out their frustrations by kicking and punching him, and tearing up his clothes. Their leader, back on his feet and ready for battle, looked down at what they’d done, and seemed barely satisfied. Meanwhile, Timmy was planning new knife tricks when Aidan moved in and looked straight at Michael.

  Together, they had won multiple rugby championships, had gotten plastered for the first time, gone out with the same girls, sometimes double-dated. Aidan had a hard time recognizing this cruel, impulsive person who needed to prove to everyone that he was the strongest. Yet he would appeal to what might be left of their former friendship so that the situation didn’t get any worse than it already was. This was what he had hoped when he went over to talk to him.

  Behind him, his new friends had turned paler than the ice cream they had stopped eating. Sara was trying to hold back tears, meanwhile Arthur, coated in a gluey mess of drying ice cream, was crying so hard his body wa
s shaking. Cosmo look disgusted, much more than usual, by this display of human behavior, and Titiana stared into the distance, far beyond the inaccessible door.

  How could Aidan convince his childhood friend who now despised him for being handicapped, to grant them what they surely deserved? Peace, or a semblance of it. He had no idea and hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. But during the past several minutes, no one in the shop had seemed concerned about appearances.

  When Aidan called out to him, Michael hesitated acknowledging that the wheelchair-stricken boy was worthy of his time. His attention wandered for several seconds, and then he gave Aidan a condescending smile. He had no interest in being distracted from what was unfolding before him, the prelude to a massacre.

  He had shifted his attention again, and Aidan had to call out his name once more. Reluctantly, Michael turned to listen to him. Aidan spoke in simple words, trying hard to look him straight in the eye. And he tried especially hard not to look at the blood pooling out of Albin’s body, or at Albin’s eyes, panic-stricken yet painfully aware.

  He forced himself to talk slowly so his message could make it past the thick layer of gunk blocking Michael’s brain and that was making him behave in such a way. Aidan asked him to let them go. Begged him would more accurate, because he had lost any sense of connection to this murderous creature.

  “Michael, the game has gone a little too far, don’t you think?”

  “What game?”

  Michael spoke slowly as if in a hypnotic or violent stupor.

  “I think it’s clear to everybody that we shouldn’t mess with you. So just please let us leave.”

  Aidan couldn’t control his voice from shaking or from slipping into a plaintive tone as he spoke the last words. But Albin had just let out a groan between clenched teeth that had sent reverberations of cruelty throughout the tight space.