An Infinite Number of Parallel Universes

by Randy Ribay

  Archie nods. “We’re driving right past the Windy City, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Right, guys?” His inquiry is met with silence, so he answers himself. “Right.”

  He pops the trunk and she crams her pack inside.

  Reluctantly, Sam opens the door and scoots to the middle.

  “Thanks again,” she says as she climbs in and pulls the door shut. Her musky odor fills the car. Everyone acts like they don’t notice. “My name’s Sunshine, by the way.”

  “Of course it is,” Sam says under his breath.

  “It’s really no problem,” Archie says, returning her perpetual smile. “I’m Archie.”

  “Mari,” Mari says, turning in her seat to shake hands with Sunshine.

  Dante waves from the other side of Sam. “Dante.”

  Sunshine waves back.

  The only one who doesn’t introduce himself is Sam. After a minute, Archie says, “Sam’s the grumpy little Filipino next to you. Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite. He’s just sad.”

  Sunshine’s face turns sympathetic. “Aww, why are you sad, Sam?”

  Sam shrugs.

  There’s a break in traffic, and Archie pulls back onto the highway.

  “This is beautiful,” Sunshine says, waving her hands to indicate the car’s interior.

  “Really?” asks Mari. “It’s kind of a piece. When my dad bought it for me it already had nearly 150,000 miles on it. Overheats all the time.”

  “No,” Sunshine says. “I meant you guys. You’re so multicultural. It’s like a microcosm of America.”

  “We just need an Indian chief and a cop,” Archie says. Sunshine laughs. But nobody else does.

  “So where you all going?” she asks.

  “Seattle,” Sam mutters.

  She nods, impressed. “That’s quite the trip. What’s in Seattle?”

  “Sam’s girlfriend,” Dante says.

  “Ex-girlfriend,” Archie corrects.

  “Ah, I see. That’s why he’s sad. On a mission to woo her back?”

  “Something like that,” Sam says.

  “She must be some girl to inspire such a trip.”

  “She is,” Sam says. “The best.”

  Sunshine nudges him with her shoulder. “That’s so cute. You know how to woo her back right?”

  “How?” says Sam.

  “The clitoris.”

  Sam, Dante, and Mari turn to see if she’s serious.

  Archie glances at her in the rearview mirror. “Elaborate, please.”

  Sunshine laughs. “Wait, how old are you guys?”

  “Old enough,” Archie says. Mari rolls her eyes.

  “Still in school?”

  “Yes,” Mari answers. “High school.”

  “Seniors,” Archie clarifies.

  “Aww,” Sunshine says. She leans forward and tousles Archie’s hair. He blushes. “You guys are just babies. Is this like your first road trip?”

  “Kind of,” Archie says.

  “That’s awesome. It’s so cool that you guys are just hitting the road like this. I’m surprised your parents let you.”

  “Not so much,” Mari says.

  “That’s even more awesome,” Sunshine says and then laughs again. “If you don’t mind my asking, how are you paying for everything?”

  Archie navigates a bend in the highway like he’s been driving for years instead of hours. “Sam stole his dad’s credit card, so that’s covering our gas. Everybody else chipped in what they could. I ran the numbers, and we should be able to make it back home with a few bucks to spare.”

  “Well, I have friends in Minnesota,” Sunshine says. “Their place is close to the highway. If you make it that far tonight, I’m sure they’d let you stay with them. That way you wouldn’t have to pay for a hotel. I’m sure they’d even hook you up with some food, too.”

  “We’re not stopping,” Sam says.

  “Just offering is all. You little dudes are like my heroes. I didn’t have the balls to just take off like this when I was in high school.”

  “Yeah,” Archie says, readjusting his glasses. “We’re veritable bad-asses.”

  “Well, I was Little Miss Goody-Goody when I was in high school.”

  “And then?” Archie asks.

  “Life,” Sunshine says. “The Road.”

  “What the hell does that even mean?” Sam asks while looking out the window.

  “You’ll understand by the time you get to Seattle.”

  “Isn’t hitchhiking dangerous?” Dante asks.

  Sunshine reaches into a pocket and pulls out a canister of pepper spray.

  “You ever have to use that?” Mari asks.

  “More than you think. This one time I was riding with this trucker. We’re talking and getting to know each other just fine. Then I look over, and his dick’s out. It’s just there. Standing straight up like a little one-eyed monster waiting to devour me.”

  “Gross,” Mari says. “So you sprayed him?”

  “Not yet. I just asked him to put his penis away and let me out. He ignored my first request but pulled over. Then, he reached over like he was going to unlock the door. Instead, he grabbed the back of my head and tried to shove my face into his crotch.”

  “Ugh,” Mari says.

  “That’s when I sprayed the fucker.”

  “Damn,” Archie says.

  She nods. “Moral of the story: always travel with pepper spray.”

  Dante asks, “So why do you keep doing it?”

  She shrugs. “I’m a wanderer. It’s who I am. I’ve learned to accept that a bit of danger comes with the territory. I just try to make good decisions about who I ride with and be prepared just in case I’m wrong.”

  The conversation sinks into silence. Mari turns the radio up and scans the stations, but it’s still all country. The world hums under the tires.

  “So we told you what’s in Seattle,” Archie says. “What’s in Chicago? A boyfriend?”

  “No boyfriend,” Sunshine laughs. “I like girls.”

  Dante sits up, watching to see how his friends will react.

  “That’s cool,” Mari says.

  “Oh,” Archie says, disappointed.

  Sam doesn’t say anything.

  “Don’t actually know anyone in Chicago,” Sunshine says.

  “So why go there?” Mari asks.

  Sunshine shrugs. “I am a Disciple of the Road, I guess.”

  “Where are you from?” asks Mari.

  Sunshine shrugs again. “Everywhere. Nowhere.”

  Sam rolls his eyes.

  “Why don’t you come to Seattle with us?” Archie asks.

  Mari turns to him in disbelief.

  “Sweet of you to offer,” Sunshine says, “but one thing about life on the road is that there’s no use over-planning, no use fighting for control. You have to learn to go where the road takes you. To let go of what you think matters when you must. To accept the fact that you can’t see over the next hill. This hill? It’s telling me Chicago.”

  “Do you have a job?” Sam asks.

  “Being one with the Universe.”

  “Does that pay well?” Archie asks with a smile.

  “Better than most people realize.”

  Sam scoffs. “So how do you buy anything? How do you get anywhere?”

  “Blowjobs mostly,” Sunshine says.

  Everyone raises an eyebrow. Archie clears his throat and drops his voice an octave to ask, “Really?”

  Mari slaps his shoulder, causing the car to swerve a bit.

  “No,” Sunshine says, laughing. “Not really. I’m gay, remember?”

  Archie deflates.

  Sunshine peeks around Sam and looks at Dante. “You are, too, yeah?”

  Everyone looks at Dante. His face hot, he drops his eyes and shakes his head. “Um. No.”

  “Huh,” Sunshine says. “My gaydar’s usually pretty reliable.”

  Mari notices Dante shift in his seat. “Anyone need to pee?” she asks, changing the subject. “I
think there’s a rest stop coming up.”

  After a few more miles, they spot the signs. When they reach the exit, they pull into the rest area, which is crowded with Saturday travelers. After nearly crashing into several cars and almost hitting some poor, unsuspecting family, Archie successfully parks. It is a crooked, minor miracle. Everyone piles out and sucks in the fresh air.

  They stretch their limbs, and Archie hands the keys back to Mari.

  “Ten minutes,” Sam says, and then walks away, a cigarette already between his lips.

  Archie, Dante, Mari, and Sunshine stroll toward the main building together until the path splits toward the men’s and women’s restrooms.

  “Sorry about Sam,” Mari says as she walks inside with Sunshine.

  “Nothing to be sorry for. He’s just hurting,” Sunshine says, heading into a stall.

  Mari picks the one next to her, arranges toilet paper around the seat, and then sits.

  “But,” Sunshine calls from her stall, “he does need to learn that women are not items to be ‘won.’ That’s probably a large part of the reason she dumped him. But he’ll probably learn that soon enough.”

  Mari considers whether she wants to participate in a conversation while urinating. “Yeah,” she finally says. Thankfully, Sunshine doesn’t add anything further.

  They both flush, emerge from their stalls at the same time, and then walk over to the sinks.

  “So what’s going on with you and Archie?” Sunshine asks.

  Mari keeps her eyes focused on the water. “What about us?”

  “I might have been wrong about Dante, but I’m not wrong about you guys. It’s pretty obvious. What I don’t get is why you’re both pretending like there’s nothing there.”

  “I don’t know,” Mari admits, meeting Sunshine’s eyes in the mirror. “It’s kind of weird. We hung out the other night. It was nice, but things got weird. And we haven’t talked about it yet or anything.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think we both just have too much going on in our lives right now. Bad timing, you know?”

  “But wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to go through that stuff with?” Sunshine asks.

  Mari considers this.

  “You have a convenient excuse,” Sunshine says, taking a paper towel from the wall dispenser. She dries her hands, balls the paper, and tosses it into the garbage. “But the heart doesn’t give a fuck about timing.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Whatever.” Sunshine pulls a small baggie out of her purse and then a square of thin paper. Mari realizes that she’s about to roll a joint. “Want to smoke up?” Sunshine asks, noticing Mari staring.

  “Um, no, thanks. I’ll see you back at the car.”

  One Hill at a Time

  Saturday, 2:33 P.M.

  The downtown Chicago skyline looms on the other side of the water. The sun hangs high overhead. Seagulls swoop in wide circles, chattering and squawking.

  Archie, Sam, Dante, and Mari sit on the tiered cement steps that stretch the length of the pier in front of the planetarium. They drink in the view, enjoying the feel of the wind and the scent of the fresh lake air. Children hop on and off the steps around them, balloons tied to their wrists.

  Dante looks down at the book in his hands. The edges of the pages are dyed red. He examines the worn, black cover. It features a small, square abstract painting with the title of the book below it in misaligned words. The Road by Jack Kerouac. A little heavy-handed, Dante thinks.

  He pulls out a scrap of paper tucked between the pages like a bookmark. It contains the contact information for Sunshine’s friends in Minnesota.

  Sam snatches the novel from Dante’s hands and flips through it. “I can’t believe this is all she gave us. We drive her a couple hundred miles, and she can’t even pay for a tank of gas?”

  Archie steals the book from Sam and then hands it back to Dante.

  “I liked her,” Dante says, smoothing his hand over the book’s cover. “She was honest.”

  “Too bad she was a lesbian,” Archie says.

  Mari asks, “So what?”

  Archie holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Just kidding. Geez. Don’t hit me.” He starts giggling.

  “What?” Mari asks.

  “Sorry, I was just remembering that time Sam got punched. Remember, Sam? The first year we played D&D, when we used to use Ms. Prescott’s classroom after school.”

  “Yeah,” Sam says, looking away. “I remember.”

  How could he forget the first time in his life he was really hit hard? After the punch he had slumped in the empty school hallway, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the lockers. His hair was a mess. His left cheek was bright with broken blood vessels and continuing to swell. Blood trickled from his nose, staining his white shirt with droplets so dark they looked brown—nothing like the bright red in the movies.

  His backpack was on the ground a few feet away, ripped open, its contents scattered across the floor like an archipelago. Pain radiated from the center of his face. His vision was blurry. He felt like he was going to throw up.

  Bearing a handful of paper towels, Archie had been the first on the scene. And then Dante, and then Mari. Was Sarah there? He can’t recall. But he does remember the blood. It seemed like it would never stop. He was worried he’d run out. Not long after he had pressed a fresh wad of paper towels to his nose, it would be soaked completely through.

  And then Mari had pulled out a tampon. It was the first time any of the boys had ever seen one up close. At first, in its white plastic, he thought it might be a small popsicle or something. But then she ripped open the packaging and pushed the plunger on the plastic applicator, exposing the stubby, condensed wad of cotton with a string dangling from the end. The boys cringed, recognizing it from sex ed. Then Mari had cut it in half with a pair of scissors that Archie grabbed from a classroom, and she shoved a segment into each of Sam’s nostrils.

  Archie had taken a picture with his phone.

  Everyone must remember this at the same time, because sitting on the steps overlooking Lake Michigan, they all start laughing. Even Sam.

  “I wonder if I still have that picture,” Archie says, shaking with laugher.

  “Remind me,” Mari says, “why’d that kid punch you?”

  “I don’t even remember,” Sam says.

  “I do,” Archie says. “The kid called me a ‘geeky fag.’ So Sam pushed him.”

  Mari shakes her head. “Boys.”

  “Oh, please,” Archie says. “You just don’t understand what it’s like to grow up male in this world.”

  Mari raises her eyebrows. “Enlighten me.”

  “It’s just like in Warcraft,” Archie says. “Nobody’s going to mess with the leveled-up, badass-looking avatar. They’re too afraid. So they skirt around him, let him do as he pleases. Meanwhile, the noobs and mid-levels have to be vigilant, or they’ll be torn apart. It’s a simple matter of survival of the fittest.”

  “That’s just a video game, Arch.”

  “That’s real life, too, Mari. And despite our morality and our intellect, it’ll always be that way for guys. We’re evolutionarily hardwired to respect strength and despise weakness. I’m not saying I agree with it. That’s just the way it is.”

  Mari shakes her head. “It’s only that way because you guys believe it has to be that way.”

  “Don’t hate the player,” Archie says. “Hate the game.”

  “He’s right,” Sam says.

  Dante nods.

  “Of course I’m right,” Archie says. “So what are our options? One: find a body switching device and trade with Dante. Two: lift weights and pray for a growth spurt. Three: bide our time, hone our intelligence, and then crush our male competitors with our eventual economic success. Personally, I think I’m making progress on the latter two fronts.”

  “And they say girls are vain.” Mari says. “Wait—I don’t remember—was Sarah there?”

  “No,
” Sam answers, finally remembering. “She was at a student council meeting or something. Anyways, let’s get going. We’ve wasted enough time.”

  “But there’s so much to do here,” Archie says, arms outstretched toward the city. “Deep dish pizza. That giant silver bean. Da Bears. Let’s see the sights, stay the night, and be on our way in the morning.”

  “Do we have enough money for all of that?” Mari asks.

  Archie drops his arms. “No.”

  Sam stands. “We can stop to eat here on the way back.”

  Dante nods and rises. Archie sighs. Mari walks over, takes one of his hands, and leads him back to the car.

  “One hill at a time, Arch,” she says. “One hill at a time.”

  Surprised by the Spinning World

  Saturday, 9:10 P.M.

  “Shit. Anybody have signal?” Sam says.

  He waves his phone around as if it will make a difference.

  It does not.

  Everyone checks their phones and finds the same problem.

  “So where am I supposed to go?” Dante asks, turning off the radio and peering into the night.

  “If I remember the map correctly,” Archie says, “we’ve only got a couple more turns. For now, just keep on keepin’ on.”

  Dante rubs his eyes to better concentrate on the portion of the narrow dirt road illuminated by the headlights. Dense trees press in on either side, and beyond that, darkness and silence.

  Mari yawns. “We haven’t seen another car in like an hour. I think we’ve pushed our luck too far. We’re definitely getting murdered this time.”

  “Don’t blame me. I wanted to keep driving,” Sam says, leaning back.

  “Need I remind you we’re all sleep deprived? You’re welcome to take the wheel,” Mari says.

  Sam doesn’t respond.

  “Here,” Archie says, pointing to an unmarked intersection up ahead. “Go right.”

  Dante brings the car to a stop and looks where a street sign should be. “Are you sure?”

  Archie closes his eyes and rubs his temples with his forefingers as if divining truth. “Yes."

  Dante turns to Mari and Sam in the back seat. Sam continues looking out the window. Mari nods. Dante sighs, rubs the tiredness out of his eyes once more, and turns right.