Transcendence t-1

by C. J. Omololu

  “Good,” he replies, not dropping his eyes from my face.

  I push the door open, the air in the room suddenly thick and foreboding. I need to be around other people. As we reach the practice room, Veronique is just coming out. “Hey there,” she says cheerfully. “I was just looking for the bathroom.”

  I glance at Griffon. His face is unreadable. “It’s back downstairs,” I say. “Just to the right of the main hall.”

  Veronique smiles warmly. “Right. I should have asked. I’ll see you down there.”

  I duck into the room, put my sweater on, and grab my things. I rush around, pretending to be distracted by looking for stuff, because the last thing I want is to make small talk with anyone here. Griffon stands outside waiting, and by the time I get back, he’s more like his regular self.

  “Let me carry that for you,” he says, reaching for the cello case.

  “It’s okay,” I say. I like carrying the good cello myself. Even Dad has stopped asking to help. It’s not that I don’t trust people, it’s just that if anything happens, I don’t want the blame to be on anyone but me.

  Griffon seems to read my mind. “I’ll be careful,” he says. “I know it’s expensive.”

  I hesitate.

  “Now you don’t trust me enough to carry your cello?”

  “It’s not that,” I say. I look up into his amber eyes. The funny thing is that I do trust him, despite all of the things he’s said, and all my conflicted emotions. I hand him the cello case, as if to prove it to both of us. “Thanks.”

  He slides the shoulder strap over his arm and points to the steps. “After you.”

  I change places with Griffon so that I can walk near the wall. I hate looking over the railing straight down three stories to the café on the ground floor. Even glancing down from this high up makes me feel woozy. We start down the stairs, but Griffon seems to lose his balance on the third step and lurches for the handrail just as the cello begins to fall.

  “Oh my God!” As soon as I realize what’s happening, I lean out and try to catch the cello, not thinking about how high up we are, not thinking about anything but stopping it from tumbling down the stairs.

  “Cole!” Griffon yells. In a blur, I feel someone reaching out for me and grabbing my arm, but not before I twist and my head hits the railing with a crushing thump. Pain explodes in my right temple and my vision is filled with bright spots as I’m lowered to the floor.

  “Are you okay?” Griffon stands over me as my head clears.

  I try to shake it off, but that only makes the pain worse. “I think so.” I start to stand up but Griffon holds me down.

  “Stay there, you might have a concussion,” he says, looking around for help.

  I put my hand up to the pain in the side of my head and feel a lump already starting to form.

  The stairs shake as people swarm around me. It looks like everyone in the place saw me fall. Just great.

  “My God, honey, are you okay?” Dad asks, kneeling down.

  I sit up on the edge of the step. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine,” he says, looking into my eyes. “You hit really hard.”

  “I’ll go get some ice,” Griffon says. “The café’s still open.”

  Looking through the crowd of people, I watch Griffon take the steps two at a time. When he gets to the bottom, he rushes by the cello’s case, which is shoved against the railing at an awkward angle. “My cello!” I try to get up, but the pain in my head makes my knees buckle. “Is it okay?”

  Dad glances down the stairs. “I’m sure it’s fine,” he says. “The main thing is to make sure you’re not hurt.” That’s sweet of him to say, but we all know the main thing is that my insanely expensive cello is currently lying at the bottom of the stairs.

  Mom opens the case and lifts the cello out gently. “Looks okay,” she calls up. “The case is a little banged up, but otherwise it’s fine.”

  I relax a little, enough to accentuate the pounding in my head.

  “What happened?” Veronique asks, slightly out of breath from climbing back up the stairs so quickly.

  “I’m not sure.” I look at Dad. “Did Griffon drop it?” I should have gone with my instincts on this one.

  Dad brushes some hair off my forehead. “Griffon let it fall so that he could grab you,” he says. “I saw the whole thing from downstairs. If he hadn’t been there, you would have fallen down the whole flight.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. “It could have been bad, Cole. Really, really bad.”

  Mom sets the case gently on the step next to me. “Looks like the shoulder strap broke,” she says, holding up the end that should be connected to the case. “A bolt must have come loose. This was not a cheap cello case. You can bet I’ll be calling the company in the morning.”

  Griffon rushes back up the stairs and thrusts a bag of ice in Dad’s hand. I wince as Dad holds it gently up to the bump. I’m at that point where I know ice will make it better, but right now it’s making my head hurt even more.

  Mom leans down in front of me. “Let me see your pupils.”

  I glare up at her. “Now? Seriously?”

  “She’s okay, Sofia,” Dad says, and for once, she backs down.

  I glance down the stairs, and the foyer seems to be emptying. Now that my part of the show is over, I guess it’s time for everyone to go home. I hope to God nobody got it on video.

  “I’m going to head out,” Veronique says. She puts one hand on my shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m sure. Thanks.”

  Griffon is kneeling a few steps down and won’t even look up as she speaks. I’m shocked that nobody else can see the waves of hatred coming off him.

  “Nice meeting you, Griffon,” Veronique says as she passes him on the stairs. He nods, but says nothing. She seems totally clueless. She must just think he’s an ass.

  After a few more minutes, it’s determined that I’ve been immobile long enough, and they let me get back on my feet. Dad carries my cello and the slightly bruised bunch of tulips, and Griffon gets my bag so that I can keep the ice on the giant knot on my head that’s getting bigger by the second. It takes everything I have to convince them not to call an ambulance, and I know that Mom’s watching carefully to make sure I don’t go into convulsions or anything as we head for the door. The cold night air hits us as soon as we get outside; it must have rained during the concert, because the streets are wet and give off that sharp smell that happens after a downpour.

  “Why don’t you sit here,” Dad says, pointing to a bench just outside the doors. “I’ll walk your mom to her car and then get mine so that you don’t have to walk to the parking garage.” Even when they’re going to the same place, Mom and Dad never ride together.

  “Sam—” Mom starts to protest, but Dad gives her a look.

  “I’ll just be a few minutes,” he says. He tilts his head toward Griffon. “I’m sure Griffon won’t mind staying here with Cole until I get back.”

  “I think I can manage that,” Griffon says. “Again, I’m so sorry about the cello. If anything’s wrong with it, I’ll be happy to get it fixed.”

  Dad holds up his hand. “It’s fine. I’m just glad you have your priorities straight. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Dad hands the case to me, and I prop it up against the wall.

  “How are you feeling?” Griffon asks, as soon as my parents are out of sight.

  “I’ll survive.”

  Griffon looks into each of my eyes carefully. “Your pupils look okay,” he says.

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “You’re a medical expert too?”

  He shrugs. “I was a doctor once. I know a few things about head trauma.”

  I have no answer for that. Reach far enough back into his fantasy and he’s probably been just about everything. “I wish you could tell Mom and Dad that,” I finally say. “They’re going to be waking me up all night to make sure I’m not concussed.” I look down at my feet. “Thanks for catching
me. What a crazy accident.”

  Something flashes across Griffon’s face. “I don’t think it was an accident,” he says, traces of anger returning to his voice. He reaches over and pulls out the strap to the cello case. “I think one of the bolts was loosened.”

  “Oh, come on,” I say. He has the same look he did when he met Veronique. “It must have just worked itself loose. Why would anyone do that on purpose?”

  He scowls. “Someone who’s out for revenge would have no problem messing with a bolt to make it look like an accident.”

  I stare at him. “You seriously think Veronique had something to do with this?”

  “She had the opportunity. She was in the practice room when we came up the stairs. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I’m guessing she has a motive. If all goes according to plan, your cello is sent flying down the stairs or over the railing. Having you almost fall after it must have seemed like a bonus. If it wasn’t Veronique, then it’s a pretty big coincidence.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in coincidences,” I say.

  He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t.”

  We sit in silence as I replay him meeting Veronique in my head. Everything changed when Griffon shook hands with her. And he won’t even touch me. “How can you tell?” I ask. “I mean, I know that you said there’s some kind of vibration or something.”

  “Sometimes you can just get a sense of it. Other times, you actually have to touch the person to know for sure.” He stops, like he’s searching for an easy explanation. “Basically, once you get used to it, you can see things in someone’s essence. You can see whether they’re Akhet, and sometimes you can see if you’ve ever been connected in any way.”

  “Essence?” I ask. “You mean like the soul?”

  Griffon shrugs. “Some people call it that. It’s the part of you that you take from one lifetime to the next. Once you have a physical connection, you can get a sense of their essence, usually enough to know something about them.”

  “I’ve never felt anything,” I say, then remember what happened with Veronique the other day when I had the vision of the concert. “At least, I don’t think I have.”

  “When it’s still new to you, recognizing someone’s essence isn’t easy. And even if you do recognize Akhet you’ve known before, your relationship can change from lifetime to lifetime. In one life, you might be siblings; in another, business partners. Sometimes you’re a boy, sometimes you’re a girl. Sometimes you’re wealthy, and sometimes you die in poverty.”

  “What about cockroaches?”

  He raises his eyebrows and looks at me. “Cockroaches?”

  “Yeah. Like, I’d hate to come back as a cockroach or a snail. A bird might be okay.”

  Griffon laughs out loud, and it’s nice to see the anger leave his face. “I don’t think so. I only remember human lifetimes. I’ve met a lot of Akhet, and so far, they’ve all been human.”

  I feel the same stab of jealousy as I picture him holding hands with Rayne outside of the movie theater. “Is that why you always put your hand on someone when you meet them? To try to figure out if they’re one?”

  “Is it that obvious?” he asks, looking embarrassed. “It’s mostly habit now, but yeah. It’s like you get even more information through touch than you can with your eyes.”

  I look away, knowing that if I ask him the next question, there will be no going back. “So why won’t you ever touch me?” I ask quietly.

  “I’ve touched you,” he answers, a bit defensively.

  “Not really,” I say. “When you helped me up at the Tower. And just now on the stairs. But never any other time.” I watch his face to see if I can figure out what he’s thinking, but his emotions are well hidden.

  He doesn’t look me in the eye as he answers, just keeps his gaze firmly on the street. “It’s complicated. There’s a lot that you don’t understand…”

  “Then tell me!” I say quickly. “I can take it. You want so badly for me to believe you, but then you won’t be honest with me about everything. It’s okay if you don’t like me … like that.” I realize too late that that it actually isn’t okay. My eyes begin to sting, and I realize that despite all of his talk about Akhet and reincarnation, it isn’t okay at all. I take a deep breath and will my voice to stay steady. “Look, I understand if you’re just trying to help me. Like just a friend or whatever.”

  At that, Griffon raises his head and looks right into my face. The sight of his eyes intently on mine makes my heart beat faster, and I know that I sound a lot braver than I feel.

  “It’s not that, Cole,” he says. His voice is strained. “You’ve got to believe me. I just don’t want you to get too involved in something … in something that might get difficult.”

  Involved? A flash of annoyance rushes through my body. He tells me crazy stories of past lives, looks adorable while he’s apparently saving my ass three flights up a rickety staircase, and then expects me not to get involved? I lean toward him almost imperceptibly. “Newsflash. I’m already involved.”

  Griffon doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just nods slowly. “Do you want to feel what it’s like?”

  “Feel what?” I answer, confused.

  “What it’s like to recognize another Akhet,” he says. “It might help you believe what I’ve been telling you.”

  Damn. I thought I was hiding it better. “It’s not that I don’t believe—”

  “It’s okay.” Griffon holds his hand up to interrupt me. “I know this all sounds crazy.” He looks around at the empty sidewalk, unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, and pulls the sleeves up. “This is why I’ve avoided touching you. It can be … overwhelming, if you’re not ready for it.”

  Griffon puts his bare arms across his knees and turns to face me. “You can feel it through clothes once you’ve learned what to look for, but it’s easier without.”

  Trying to avoid the mental image that statement conjures up, I turn toward him on the bench, inches away from his body. His arms are smooth, with strong ropey veins pulsing just under his brown skin. I carefully inch my sleeves up so that my skin is exposed and slowly reach toward him, willing my hands to stay steady and not give me away. So many times I’ve thought about touching him, about what his skin would feel like. What it would feel like to have him touch me.

  Griffon jumps as soon as I touch him, and I can’t help smiling at the effect I’m having on him. “Your hand is freezing,” he says. “From the ice pack.”

  So much for the laws of attraction. “Sorry,” I say, rubbing my hand on my pants to try to warm it up some. I take a deep breath as I gently place my arms on his, at first feeling nothing but the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his pulse as we connect. I can sense Griffon taking deep, even breaths, almost like he’s meditating. His eyes are closed, and I find myself staring at his dark lashes as they rest on his cheek. My heart is pounding so hard that I’m sure he can hear it, that the electricity racing through my blood is going to give me away.

  And then I feel something different. At first, it’s faint, like a humming from deep inside, but as I focus my attention, it gets stronger and steadier, like the molecules between us are vibrating. It feels like a swarm of bees sounds—alive and thick with energy.

  “I can feel it,” I whisper, wondering all the time if I’m just imagining things, if all this talk about Akhet and vibrations has got me wanting to find things that aren’t really there.

  Griffon opens his eyes. “You’re really strong. Especially for such a new Akhet.” His face is serious, as if he’s trying hard to control something. He shifts on the bench and clears his throat. “Once you’ve been doing it a while, you can sense even the faintest vibrations—like the ones coming from Akhet who don’t know what they are yet.” He smiles at me. “Pull your hands away slowly,” he says quietly. “See if you can feel when it stops.”

  I lift my hands the slightest bit, and the vibrations grow fainter. As my arms rise above his, the
sensation grows weaker and weaker until, just an inch away from his body, I can’t feel it at all. “It’s gone,” I say, closing my eyes, trying to hide the emotions that are so close to the surface. I already miss the sensation of his skin on mine.

  The sounds of the street seem to fade away as I feel Griffon’s fingers pushing back my hair, his thumb tracing my cheek. He says nothing, but I open my eyes to see him staring intently at my face, his expression a mix of sadness and relief. Biting his lip, Griffon leans toward me, but just as I lean in to meet him, he pulls his hand away and moves a few inches backward. I sit back too, the reality of what almost happened between us still forming in my mind. My heart feels like it’s fluttering in my chest, both from excitement at what might happen and disappointment because it didn’t.

  “I’m sorry, Cole,” he says, looking away from me. “I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just that I—”

  I wait for him to finish the sentence, but the words just hang in the air. “It’s okay,” I say, feeling the awkwardness fold in around us again. I put the ice pack back up to my head as my headache starts to grow.

  Griffon sits back on the bench and studies the oncoming traffic. “Listen, I have baseball practice tomorrow, but it should be over around five. If you can get away, why don’t you come over to my house after that? I guarantee you’ll get a lot of answers to your questions. Maybe enough so that you’ll finally believe what I’m telling you.”

  I can’t help my pulse racing at the thought of seeing him again so soon. “What, do you have some kind of manual hidden away that will give me step-by-step instructions?”

  “Better,” he says with a mysterious smile as Dad’s car swings to the curb in front of us. “I have my mother. She’s Akhet too.”

  Nine

  Griffon smiles broadly as soon as I spot him on the sidewalk outside the BART station. Just the sight of him standing there in his jeans and a leather motorcycle jacket is enough to make my heart ache, and I realize in that split second that “want” is quickly being replaced by “need.”