Parallel Portals

by kelly proudfoot

  “Aww, going so soon?”

  “I like the way you jive, girl!”

  When they got out to the street, Pauline’s mind was still reeling and she was finding it hard walking upright. The city streets were full of activity, which only added to her confusion. It was night and it had been raining, so the slick sidewalks flicked water up her stockings and seeped into what seemed to be cloth, slip-on, flat shoes.

  The cars were old fashioned and obviously American. She saw the flashing neon signs advertising things like, “Rent a Girl”, “Cocktails” and “Automat” along with bright lights in the doorways of many establishments. Strange police sirens sounded out occasionally and the people brushing past them were dressed like typical city dwellers in the 1950’s.

  Then she remembered the card tag she’d touched in the library. The Beat Generation. Was she back in the 1950’s, in New York, America? She looked over at the man who was still guiding her along the street.

  “Who are you?”

  He looked down and frowned.

  “Sam, remember? Gary’s friend. Geez Louise, you are really gone, sister!”

  “Sam.” She repeated dreamily.

  They turned down an alley and made their way towards what appeared to be a tenement building. Two men with crew cuts walked past and laughed over their shoulders at them.

  “Hey man, nice score!” One of them called out.

  Sam steered Pauline towards the walkway down the side of the building.

  “Don’t worry, Jules. You’re safe. We’re home.”

  They went through a flimsy gate behind the building, which led through a small garden to a little bungalow. There was a bicycle on the front porch and a clothes rack with shirts and underwear drying in the warm breeze.

  Sam went to the door and knocked, then he looked back at Pauline with a sympathetic smile. The door opened and a familiar face appeared, although Pauline didn’t understand why he was familiar, seeing as she’d never seen him before. Or had she?

  “Hey sweetheart, hey Sam. Thanks for bringing her home. Come in.”

  He stood back to let them in, but Sam gestured for Pauline to go in while he shook his head.

  “Nah, I think I’ll go back. That joint’s jumpin’ tonight. You shoulda seen Jules. Man – she was on fire tonight!”

  The familiar man turned to smile at Pauline as she stood near a small wooden table and gripped the duffel back tightly. Even though she had a hunch that she wasn’t in danger, she was slowly realizing that this was no dream.

  The men said goodbye and Sam waved at Pauline before turning to leave. When the door was closed, Pauline started trembling but did her best to keep her cool.

  “Who are you?” She asked with a wavering voice.

  She watched the man laugh and walk over to the sofa without answering. He sat down and picked up a book, then winked at her with a cheesy grin. He was pleasant looking, slim but muscular with close-cropped, light brown hair and a neatly shaved goatee and moustache.

  He patted the seat next to him and smiled warmly.

  “Are you afraid of me, all of a sudden?”

  Pauline continued to clutch the bag and stood to attention.

  “I’m sorry but you have to understand. I’m not who you think I am.”

  She now realized that her voice was changing back and forth from Australian to American, with the diction and tone switching from her usual warm way of speaking and the newly discovered, high pitched, childlike version – making her sound like how she felt.

  The man frowned and smiled at the same time.

  “Come again?” He asked.

  Looking down at the duffel bag, she suddenly thought about going through it to discover who she was supposed to be – not that it made any more sense than the fact she was in another life in another world – if that was possible.

  “Sorry, may I use the bathroom?”

  He laughed and shook his head in confusion.

  “Always. Geez, what’s wrong Pussycat?”

  She managed to smile but then it dawned on her that she didn’t know where the bathroom was. She turned and started walking into a back room which ended up being a bedroom. The man called out to her.

  “Other way, Julie.”

  When she turned around to come back, she saw that the man was walking towards her with a concerned look on his handsome face.

  “Did someone slip you a mickey?” He asked as he took her by the arm and led her to the other door.

  “Um, maybe.” She answered meekly.

  He put his hand to her forehead. She noticed that his hand was warm and slightly calloused.

  “I’ll make some tea and you have a shower. Meet me back in the kitchenette, okay?”

  She looked up at him and nodded, hoping against hope that this really was a dream.

  When the door was closed she dropped the bag on the sink and nearly fell backwards when she looked in the mirror. The face was not her own. It was a young woman’s face, in her mid-twenties. Pauline marveled at how pretty she was – which was a world away from her usual nondescript or slightly bland face – as far as she was concerned. She’d always considered herself dumpy and easily forgettable.

  Looking at the pouty lips, painted fire engine red and luscious, she formed them into a kiss and then inspected the rest of the face. Instead of hazel, the eyes were green and heavily caked with eyeliner and mascara. The fact that she looked like a cute pixie wasn’t lost on her, seeing as she’d always longed to look youthful, even when she was in her late teens when people constantly told her how mature she looked.

  She hated the pancake makeup thickly smeared on her skin and the stiff hairspray on the long, black locks of hair.

  Practicing smiling, frowning and many other facial expressions, she then started crying. Pinching herself hard several times – wondering if that would wake her up – she then looked back at herself in the mirror in terror. Was she now inhabiting the body of a woman in another world in another time?

  She opened the duffel bag and started rummaging carefully. A hairbrush, several paperbacks, a notebook and many pens were jostling among other items, such as a compact, lipstick, cigarettes, countless matchbooks, a small address book and a crumpled flyer. She opened it up and saw that it was an advertisement for Mama Rose’s Cafe. The scrawled note on the back read, “Dancing at 9 p.m. with Sam.”

  Having given up smoking years before, she eyed off the cigarettes and decided to light one up. She reasoned with herself that this body was used to the smoke and besides – she really needed one now. Inhaling the sweet smoke brought a flood of relief and miraculously calmed her down considerably.

  Then she noticed a small wallet on the bottom of the bag. It was white and delicately made out of what felt like silk with a Japanese design, consisting of a crane in a pond, surrounded by bamboo. She flipped it open and saw a driver’s licence. The name was Julie Markham, aged twenty six. There was also a social security card, a photo of the man in the other room, a little cash and a business card which was for a Psychiatrist called Dr W. Phillips.

  Putting the whole bag down on the floor, she then watched herself in the mirror and laughed at the absurdity. She thought insanely to herself, “If this is a new reality and this man is my boyfriend, maybe it’s the break I’ve been waiting for!”

  Then she thought of Jon, Roman and her friends – along with her comfortable life and the wonderful city of Melbourne. This thought jolted her. What if she couldn’t make it back? She put the cigarette out and decided that she would have a shower, if for nothing else but to give her time to think it all out.

  Taking off her clothes was another shock, revealing a body that she could have only dreamed of. The full, yet perky breasts, tight buttocks, flat stomach and shapely legs were well worth marveling at and she giggled when she noticed the full bush. After checking herself out in the mirror again, she stepped into the shower.

  There were two kinds of soaps and shampoos – male and female – including a large tub of c
old cream, which she used to wash the thick make-up off her pixie face. As she washed her body and hair, she reveled in the experience of possessing such a desirable figure, but also worried over how she was going to get back.

  Once she was done, she got out and dried herself then checked her reflection again. Without make-up, she looked younger and less of a vixen, but she liked what she saw. Innocent and pure. She then realized that she only had the clothes she wore into the bathroom, so she wrapped the towel around her body, brushed her wet hair and slowly made her way out.

  The man was in the kitchenette, watching her closely with a warm smile.

  “Feeling any better?” He asked.

  Pauline nodded and stepped gingerly over to the sofa.

  “Aren’t you going to put your Kimono on?”

  “Um, okay. Where is it?”

  He brought the tea over and placed her cup on the small coffee table, taking care not to knock the large pine cone over. She noticed that all the furniture was a lot smaller than what she had in her other life. She also noticed that the room was very basic and utilitarian, apart from the African statues on the bookshelves and cubist prints on the walls.

  The man winked and took off into the bedroom without speaking. When he came out, he had a yellow, satin kimono which he handed to Pauline gently. She stood up, put it on and demurely turned her back to take the towel off.

  She nearly jumped when she felt him behind her, attempting to assist. Then he drew her back into his arms and hugged her from behind. She shuddered with the pleasure of it, feeling his soft beard as he brushed her right ear with his lips.

  He murmured, “Remember me now?”

  Stunned into silence, Pauline couldn’t even nod. He slowly turned her around to face him and wrapped his arms around her again. Her heart was beating so fast it seemed like it had stopped. When he leaned in and kissed her she almost died. Jon had never kissed her so softly or with such tenderness. Then she jerked back suddenly and shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m married.”

  He gave her a shocked look.

  “You never said so. I asked and you said no!”

  She was sorry for the hurt look on his face and scrambled to explain, not realizing that she was letting the cat out of the bag.

  “Look, I’m not who you think I am. I’m not from here. I’m Australian and I live in the future. I mean, I don’t know how or why, but I have another body in Melbourne, Australia. I’m a forty year old Librarian – and yes – I’m married, but that’s in 2016. I can’t explain it properly because I don’t even know how I got here. My name is Pauline. This isn’t my body. I’m sorry – but I don’t even know your name!”

  He stared wide eyed and fearful.

  “Wow, Julie. You are truly gone! You know me. I’m Gary.”

  “I’m not Julie. I’m Pauline, please believe me!”

  Then it clicked. She now knew why he was familiar. Could he be the famous Beat poet, Gary Snyder?

  “Are you – Gary Snyder – the poet?”

  She was shocked when he started laughing loudly.

  “Sweetheart, either you were slipped a doozy of a mickey or you’ve finally flipped. Of course I’m Gary Snyder and yeah, I wish I was a poet. I’m trying, but you know that already.” He scratched his head before continuing. “That was a great story, though. 2016 you say? Man, you’ve got to write that down. I always knew you’d be a great writer. Even Ginsy couldn’t come up with that. Bill – maybe – but, wow!”

  The overwhelming realization that she had indeed traveled back in time made her unsteady on her feet. It was even more shocking that she had made it to the 1950’s, in America, smack dab in the center of the Beat Generation. Then she remembered the card tab again. She’d touched the tab for the Beat Generation in the catalog. Had she truly teleported back in time?

  Gary came over and led her to the sofa, then brought the cup of tea to her lips. She took a sip and enjoyed the warm ginger washing over her tongue. She then turned to look at Gary and the reality hit her. He really was Gary Snyder – young and in the flesh. Back in 2016, she knew that the famous Beat poet was still alive. If she made it back, should she seek him out and see if he remembered Julie?

  It was all a little too much but she managed to regain enough of her senses to try and figure out what to do next.

  “Gary, I know you don’t believe me, but if I can find a way to get back to my time and this – vessel – goes back to the way she was, then you’ll know I’m telling the truth. Will you help me?”

  He frowned but slowly started to nod.

  “Sweetheart, you know I’d do anything for you, but maybe you should speak to the doctor again?”

  Pauline remembered the card in the wallet but she shook her head vehemently.

  “No! I’m not crazy and I’m not Julie. Look, if I’m wrong – if I can’t get back and I can’t wake up out of this nightmare – I promise I’ll fall back into place and stop talking about this, but you have to help me. Please?”

  Gary took a sip of his own tea and gave her a cheeky grin.

  “Okay, I’ll go along with it, if it’ll make you happy.”

  Pauline sighed and nodded. “That’s all I ask, for now.”

  Chapter 3 – A Revelation

  Pauline took another sip of her tea and noticed how everything – inside and out – felt foreign to her. The way she licked her lips, smirked before she smiled, held her cigarette and tossed her long hair, were movements that seemed to be orchestrated by a program or person unknown to her. Even though she had her own thoughts, she started to notice strange images, impulses and ideas swimming around her brain.

  She realized that she was oscillating between her own imperatives and the motivations that came from somewhere within – something hidden – yet obviously known by this body. She felt like an invading entity in a shell that still maintained cellular memory. Then Gary jolted her out of her daze.

  “You know, I have to be honest and let you know that I think you’ve either had a psychotic break again or someone really did slip you a mickey.”

  His kind smile and even tone kept her from losing her temper, although she was starting to panic about not being believed, in case that prevented her from getting back somehow.

  “I can tell you everything. I can tell you that you are still alive in 2016; when Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac and William Burroughs will die and how. I can tell you about my life and future events. As a matter of fact, I can tell you about your own life, although you’ll probably say that you’ve told me before or that I heard it from someone else.”

  She was stunned when he suddenly started laughing loudly.

  “That’s amazing! I should get Allen and the boys around to hear this, before we head back to Frisco.”

  Pauline stiffened and felt an unfamiliar wave of fury rising up from her stomach. She had no idea what was about to happen as she tried to focus on keeping a lid on it – to no avail.

  “Gary, don’t patronize me. This is no joke. How dare you belittle me in this fashion?! You’re just trying to make sure I don’t go back with you. Typical!”

  It was like she was two people in one – splitting apart and yet circling and entwining each other. Noticing a flood of information swarming her brain, which included visions of Gary teasing her and not taking her seriously – even deflecting hers or Julie’s ideas – Pauline sensed an overwhelming desire to swallow some pills. She got up from the sofa and started pacing back and forth while dragging heavily on the cigarette. Gary flopped back in his seat and watched her calmly – still smiling.

  “Jules – sit down. We can work through this, surely?” He then got up and walked over to her, like he was approaching a grumpy horse. “I only mentioned the boys because – and you have to agree – they’d probably find this amusing, but also, they might be able to help.”

  Pauline felt like she had a million butterflies swarming inside her. She noticed a rushing feeling in her head and realized that she was ab
out to faint. She stumbled away from Gary and over to an armchair, falling into it just in time.

  While Gary fussed over her, she noticed the excitement over the idea of meeting other members of the Beat Generation, mingling with confusing thoughts about her anger over Gary’s spiritual superiority – whatever that meant – and the growing, gnawing desire to escape through illegal substances.

  She was shocked to hear words coming out of her mouth that were not her own – including the high-pitched, pleading voice.

  “Okay – yeah, like – get the gang to swing by.”

  Her thoughts then turned to William Burroughs – thinking of him as Bill and secretly happy over the fact that she could score from him. Then she recovered what she assumed was one of Julie’s memories, which told her that Burroughs was in England, filling her with anger and despair.

  The dizziness in her head continued as she tried to channel each thought into a sustained, internal holding pen. The overlapping memories and visions were flooding and crowding her panicked mind.

  Gary went to the telephone and dialed while Pauline put her hands to her temples. Her head continued to be swarmed with unfamiliar memories and thoughts, as her own thoughts struggled to gain a foothold. It didn’t take long for Gary to rush back to her.

  She looked up at him as he put his arms around her. He was kneeling in front of her with a concerned look on his face.

  “Gary, what year is it?” She managed to ask.

  “Baby, it’s 1955. It’s nearly Christmas. Are you okay? Should I call the doctor?”

  “No. No, please don’t. I’m struggling with all these visions fighting my own.”

  “Why don’t you meditate? Remember? You need to still your mind and gain control.”

  Pauline nodded. It was strange to notice memories of meditating with Gary and her own memories, where she dabbled from time to time with June, when the library hosted meditation and yoga events. She slid off the chair and got into position – surprised at this body’s ability to adopt the lotus position with such ease.

  Focusing on her breathing, she slowly but surely slipped into an even rhythm. Doing her best to ignore the dueling thoughts, she felt the anxiety quietening down and soon cleared her mind. But then...