Then Again

by Rick Boling

  He was right, of course, but for some reason I still felt used. It was similar to the way I felt about the business: that it was in control of my present and therefore my future; the tail wagging the dog, so to speak.

  “So,” I said, trying to quell my growing anger, “what do you want from me? I mean, you’re obviously trying to make me feel important, as if I have something wonderful to contribute. But I don’t really see it. If what you’re saying about Ellie is true, then what good am I in this scenario?”

  “Without you, Rix,” Aurie said, “There would be no real-time results to evaluate. Although it was not in our original plans—couldn’t have been because we had no idea how your life would turn out—the fact that you have become such a wealthy and influential person makes you indispensable. You can do things few others can, things that could have an enormous sociopolitical impact on the future of your world. Ellie is a genius, and we need her to help us forecast the repercussions of your actions so we can compare them to the actual outcomes, but only you can provide the raw material to be evaluated. The short-term results will form a baseline from which we can use Ellie’s algorithms and our computer modeling to extrapolate the long-term effects. And the first of these experiments will be your efforts—along with my help—to save Lennon’s life.”

  The Confession

  What’s up, Dad,” Ellie said, yawning and squinting through half-opened eyes. “You know, ever since that sex talk when I was fifteen, I always worry when you sneak in to wake me up in the morning.”

  Once again overseen by the antique thurible and its suggestion of a ghostlike priest sitting in judgment, I felt as if I were about to subject myself to the intimidating ritual of Catholic confession. Though I knew it was only a construct of my imagination, the feeling rendered me momentarily tongue-tied. I had practiced my speech a dozen times before entering Ellie’s room, but I couldn’t seem to get my mouth in gear.

  “’S’matter, Dad?” she mumbled, rising up on her elbows and blinking sleep from her eyes. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “Sorry, honey,” I said, “I’m trying to figure out how to say what I have to say.”

  “Mmnnn, sounds serious. Are we going to talk about deep, dark secrets? Because if we are, I’ve got one of my own, so maybe we can do a tit-for-tat thing.”

  “Really? What’s yours? Good news or bad?”

  “Oh, no. You started this. You go first.”

  “Well,” I said, “mine is both. You want the good news first or the bad?”

  “Always the bad first,” she said. “That way I have something to look forward to.”

  “Okay,” I said, “give me a second here.” I tried to clear my throat and ended up in a nervous coughing fit. When I finally managed to catch my breath, Ellie was holding my hands and staring anxiously into my watery eyes.

  “Come on, Dad. It can’t be as bad as all that.”

  “Yes it can, honey,” I said. “Yes it can. I have to tell you something I’m ashamed of. It’s … it’s a betrayal of your mother that I’ve carried on for years.”

  The shock in her eyes was accompanied by an open-mouthed gasp, and I realized what I’d said suggested a physical affair. “It’s not what you’re thinking,” I said quickly. “I mean, I haven’t been committing adultery, at least not in the classic sense. But there is someone else, always has been. So in some ways it’s even worse than being physically unfaithful. It has to do with my former life. You see, I’ve—”

  “Oh, that,” she said with obvious relief. “Sheesh, I thought you were going to tell me you got some bimbo pregnant or something.”

  “That?” I said. “You make it sound like that is no big deal. But it is, honey. What I’m trying to tell you—"

  “Dad!” she interrupted. “I know all about that. I read Mom’s journals, remember? And one of the things she often lamented was this ‘other woman’ from your first life. She didn’t obsess over it, though. We’ve talked about it a couple of times, and other than admitting to a little curiosity, she never expressed anger or regret. I guess it’s hard for her to worry about a rival you will never be able to interact with in this world.”

  The way she stated it provided the perfect entrée for what I had to say, although it wasn’t going to make saying it any easier. “Unfortunately,” I said, hesitating a moment and taking a deep breath, “that’s not exactly true. And therein lies not only the bad news—the betrayal I spoke of—but the good news as well. You see, honey, I have been able to interact with her, and you can, too. In fact, it’s going to be extremely important for you to do so.”

  My explanation was so inexpert and simplified I was sure Ellie wouldn’t understand. But she did. I answered the few questions she had as best I could, and when she seemed satisfied, I waited for her reaction, which turned out to be far less judgmental than I had expected.

  “So,” she said, “you get to see and talk, but not touch. Is it that Frederica person you told me about? What’s-his-name’s sidekick?”

  “Heyoka,” I said. “And it is. But—and here’s something else I’ve been lying about all along—her name is not Frederica.”

  “Okay, so she has a different name. I don’t see the big—”

  “Her name is Aurélie, honey.”

  That stopped her. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, and when she dropped my hands and looked at the ceiling, a hollow cavern opened up in my chest. “I don’t know what to say, Dad,” she said, finally. “I mean, I love my name, and I guess I should be proud that you named me after someone you care for, but … what about Mom? You never told her?”

  “No, I didn’t. She’s going to have to know now, though, because Aurélie is going to become a part of our lives. She and Heyoka are in desperate need of our help, and we need theirs if we’re going to save John.” She didn’t say anything, so I decided to forge ahead. “They want to learn more about your ideas. You know, those methods of forecasting the impact certain events will have on the future. They are really impressed with what you’ve accomplished, and Aurélie wants to meet you and talk to you about it.”

  “So they’ve been spying on me? Reading my thoughts?” The anger in her voice seemed forced, as if she were trying to conceal a growing excitement.

  “It’s not like that at all,” I said. “They’ve monitored my progress from day one, which was part of the deal to begin with. I’m an experiment, Ellie, the first person they ever tried this interdimensional transfer stuff with. And in the process of their monitoring they’ve been privy to the lives of people close to me. I suppose you could call it spying, but there was nothing sinister about it, believe me. Their knowledge of your ideas was a byproduct of the research, a serendipitous one, it turns out.”

  She looked down from the ceiling, her eyes widening with curiosity. “Serendipitous?” she said, “In what way?”

  “It’s hard to explain,” I said. “But if you think about what I said earlier, you should realize that because I went back in time in this universe, their timeline is different from ours. In fact, they’re years ahead of us, which means they are experiencing our future. Or what would be our future if I hadn’t come back and changed things.”

  “Right, I get that. So, the serendipity?”

  “The serendipity has to do with the fact that things are not going so well in their universe, and they need your to help to determine the long-term effects of certain scientific advances they’ve come up with, advancements that could help reverse the trends that are leading their world toward a potentially disastrous end. But first they want to do some experimenting in this universe to see if they can calculate how accurate your forecasts are.”

  She was now sitting straight up in bed. “Wow!” she said in a near whisper. “That’s … unbelievable. You mean I’m going to get to meet them and work with them and, I don’t know, maybe even visit their universe?”

  “I’m not sure about the visitation part, but yes, if you’re willing to help, you will have to meet them and work with them.
And the first thing they want to do—the first real-time experiment they want to try—is to see if they can help us save John’s life.”

  I could tell by the faraway look in her eyes that she was still trying to absorb all this and put it in some kind of mental order. I waited, sure she was going to ask a dozen questions I couldn’t answer, but I’d forgotten how smart she was. In the end, she had only one.

  “How can they help us with John?” she asked. And before I could speak, she answered her own question: “Oh, right. It's all history to them. They can read up on Chapman, maybe find out where he was at any given time, what his plans might have been, and other details that would help us find and track him. Boy, this is exciting.”

  “For you, maybe,” I said, “but not so much for me.”

  “Why not for you?”

  “Because before any of this can happen, I have to explain it all to your mom.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Yeah, I guess that’s not going to be much fun. Tell you what, I’ll go with you and break my news at the same time. Maybe that will take some of the sting out of yours.”

  “And what might your news be?”

  “Okay, hang on to your hat,” she said, grabbing my hands again and squeezing them. “Jackson asked me to marry him. And, guess what? I said yes!”

  Penance

  So, you’ve been seeing her all along?” Doris said after I finished my soul-crushing confession. The three of us were sitting around the breakfast-room table, picking at plates of half-eaten eggs, cheese grits, and French toast.

  “No, not all along,” I said, raising my coffee cup in a shaky hand. “It started around the time Ellie turned fifteen. And for a while, she was only a voice in my head, advising me from time to time.” I glanced at Ellie, then replaced my cup without taking a sip. “The holographic projection thing started more recently, and it’s only happened twice. The first was that afternoon when you and I were arguing about Lennon and I took a walk to cool off. Then a couple of weeks ago she and Heyoka showed up at my office. That’s when they asked to meet with Ellie.”

  “And you’re okay with this?” she said, looking at Ellie, obviously hoping for some indication of disapproval.

  Ellie stiffened, and I realized what a compromising position I’d put her in. “Look, Mom,” she said, staring at her plate, “I don’t want to say I’m okay with it. I’m angry and confused and disappointed in Dad, but there are bigger things at stake here. Besides, it’s not like he’s been screwing some mistress or anything. I understand this is a shock. Hell, nobody could be more shocked than I was. The thing is, they need our help and we need theirs if we’re going to do anything about saving John. Not to mention the fact that they are living our future, and from what Dad says, that future is looking pretty bleak right now.”

  Doris rubbed her forehead while my breakfast rose in the back of my throat, threatening to spill out onto my plate. Finally, she pushed back from the table and stood. “I’ve got to get to the office,” she said, grabbing her purse and heading for the back door. She stopped halfway through and turned back. “You two do what you think you have to, but leave me out of it. I don’t want to see these people or hear any more about them, okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer, and when the door slammed behind her it felt like it had slammed on our future as well.

  Ellie’s first meeting with Heyoka and Aurélie was awkward to say the least. I think she was a little taken aback by Heyoka’s size and appearance, which frankly does not suggest a person of his scientific stature. But her attention soon became riveted on Aurie, whom she unabashedly scrutinized as if examining a specimen under a microscope. For her part, Aurie showed no nervousness or embarrassment; she just smiled and waited until the examination appeared to be over, then said, “Hi, Ellie. I’d shake your hand if I could, but I can’t. I know this is probably uncomfortable for you, but I’m hoping we can be friends. We have a lot more in common than our names, you know.”

  We had again chosen the reception area in the old studio. This would become our regular meeting spot, though it would mostly be used only by Ellie and Aurie. After that first appearance, Heyoka restricted his visits to once every two or three months, times when he felt his presence might be important. As I’d expected, my role became almost peripheral, although every once in a while Aurie would show up when we could be alone and talk. And, despite the guilt that continued to gnaw away at my crumbling self-esteem, I treasured every second we were together.

  On that first evening, after the awkwardness subsided and a certain level of tepid comfort set in, Heyoka and Ellie began to carry on a more or less one-on-one conversation about the problems they faced in their dimension, while Aurie and I concentrated on the Chapman situation. Because she could not carry any written materials into our dimension, she had instructed me to bring several legal pads. And while she read from a comprehensive report she had compiled, I scribbled as fast as I could.

  Much of the report was like a life story, intended to familiarize me with Chapman’s background and personality traits as they evolved over time. The image that slowly emerged was not much different from the one I already had in my head: a weirdo, born-again Christian with an abusive father, who suffered from paranoia and delusions of grandeur. Chapman was using drugs by age fourteen, was bullied in school for lack of athletic ability, and started having suicidal thoughts while in college. After dropping out, he made a failed attempt to take his own life and was admitted to a psych ward for clinical depression. Early on he had been a big Beatles fan, idolizing Lennon, but had later turned on the superstar, obsessing over contradictions between John’s wealth and the lyrics to some of his songs. And it apparently wasn’t only John we had to worry about, because Aurie had discovered a little-known list Chapman had compiled of others he planned to kill. That list included celebrities like Johnny Carson, Marlon Brando, Walter Cronkite, Elizabeth Taylor, George C. Scott, and Jackie Kennedy. So the task of stopping him became even more urgent.

  Toward that end, the most important information she provided concerned Chapman’s whereabouts at various times during the two years leading up to the assassination. The information was sketchy in parts, but at least it gave me more than I could have discovered on my own. By the time we finished I had filled an entire legal pad and half of another with my nearly indecipherable chicken scratchings.

  Later that night, as Doris and I lay in bed, I tried to make a belated apology. Feeling a renewed sense of guilt from the meeting, I stumbled through a nervous soliloquy, sounding, I thought, more like a kid who’d been caught shoplifting than a truly remorseful husband. She listened silently, and when I ran out of words, she turned to me and touched my cheek with a finger. I thought for a moment she was going to say something, if not that she forgave me, then maybe that she understood my side. But she just gave me a stiff, resigned smile, then turned away and switched off her reading lamp.

  It would be several weeks before Doris spoke to me in private, although when others were present she acted no different from before. And when she finally did break her silence, she surprised me with her concern and insight into my personal struggles.

  “You know, Rich,” she said one night while we were undressing for bed. “As soon as you’re finished with this Lennon thing, you need to think long and hard about your future.”

  I was a little alarmed that she’d referred to it as my future, not ours, but I didn’t mention my concern for fear she would stop talking. “Okay,” I said. “You have any thoughts on that yourself?”

  “I do,” she said, looking at me in the mirror above her dressing table. “I think you need to get away from the business. I haven’t wanted to mention it because you’ve got so many other things to worry about right now, but we’ve had several offers for buyouts of various divisions. Attractive offers, I should say. And Geffen’s been hinting at wanting you to merge the music division with his operation. He’s getting ready to form a new production company, and he thinks you two would make a great fit. But if you w
ant to know what I think, I think you’d be better off getting out of the business altogether.”

  “Oh?” I said. “And what makes you think that?”

  “Don’t be obtuse, Rich,” She said. “We both know you hate things as they stand. Look, I understand you think you’re responsible for holding everything together, but that’s really not the case anymore. Sam’s handling the computer division, turning it into a dynasty, actually. And Jimmy’s got the music division churning out hits faster than any production company in history. The other facets of the company are so diverse and individualized, there’s nothing you can do for them other than act as a cheerleader and a PR person. And the holding company is run by our brokers, with a little oversight by me and our financial team. Still, it all seems to keep you running around like a corporate Keystone Kop, putting out fires that don’t exist. Ellie and I have talked about it, and we both think you need to get out before you end up in the morgue. Besides, aren’t you two supposed to be concentrating on saving the world?” This last was said with a heavy dose of sarcasm, which I chose to ignore.

  “What about you?” I said. “I assume you’re suggesting we sell everything, but if we cash out, what are you going to do with your time? I can’t imagine you as a wealthy society matron, attending cocktail parties with Carol and sucking up to the rich and famous while you dedicate museum wings.”

  “Glad you asked,” she said. “Now let me ask you something. Do you have any idea how much we’re worth right now?”

  “Not really,” I said.

  I’d never cared much about the bottom-line, and she knew it. I’d once been interviewed for a Wall Street Journal article, and the reporter asked me what my net worth was. Since Blue Note Enterprises was privately-held, our finances were not a matter of public record, but I wasn’t trying to hide anything when I told him I had no idea. “Well,” he said, “now that Hunt and Getty and Hughes are gone, rumor has it that you’re one of the ten richest men in the world, though I must say you don’t live like it.” Doris later told me the guy was trying to get rise out of me by subtly insulting our blue-collar lifestyle, but at the time what he said sounded silly to me.