SUSY Asylum

by Michael Pierce

  After the bell concluded Monday’s classes, Desiree and I walked toward the back of the school. Desiree had Mr. Gordon’s address typed into Google Maps and she held out her phone like a compass, guiding us off the campus. I hadn’t walked along the road on the opposite side of the school since the day of my final run-in with Sasha. And Desiree had been with me then, too.

  We passed the delinquent school, Patch Heights, and wondered if Sasha actually was there. A few students that looked only a few months away from prison loitered about, almost looking to be guarding their territory. We remained safely on our side of the street. I could do without diving into more trouble. My face looked better now, but my nose was still sore to the touch.

  “Why did TJ have to come back?” Desiree asked as we crossed an intersection.

  An oncoming car had already started going, rolling through the stop sign, and Desiree kept going. The driver of the car dared her to slow down and give him the right of way, but she kept her steady pace across the crosswalk. When it passed, she reached out as if she would slide her fingers along the dirt caked on the car that masked its true color.

  I hurried after her while the next car in the queue waited for me to cross. “I wish I knew.”

  “That voice said she can take me to him—so I could actually see him again,” Desiree said.

  “He’s dead.”

  “I know he’s dead,” Desiree snapped. “I’m the last person you need to tell—”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said. “How do you think the voice—your mirror—will take you to him?”

  “She mentioned something about The Line.”

  “Yeah, and I don’t think that’s a good thing,” I said. “Do you remember the House of Mirrors? ’Cause I sure do. Remember what Darius said—you can’t listen to it. It will tell you whatever you want to hear for its own self-serving purposes.”

  “I wish he hadn’t come to you.”

  The houses began to change, seeming to double in size with each new street we passed. By the time we reached Mr. Gordon’s address, we were on a cul-de-sac of mansions.

  “Do you think this is right?” Desiree asked, analyzing the address on her phone.

  “Mr. Gordon’s full of surprises,” I said. “Should we really be surprised anymore?”

  I walked up and rang the doorbell, which seemed to echo throughout the house forever.

  The door opened under its own power to reveal Mr. Gordon walking toward us into a white-tiled entryway. He carried a glass of what looked like iced tea in one hand.

  “You made it,” he said and stopped at the open door. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  His statement was ironic. The house was anything but humble. It was expansive and extravagant. A crystal chandelier hung from the two-story entryway. He led us to a kitchen bigger than my family’s living and dining rooms put together. There was a six burner stove built into a granite-topped island. A restaurant quality set of pots and pans hung overhead like meat in a butcher’s shop.

  “Are you guys hungry or thirsty?” Mr. Gordon asked and took a sip from his glass.

  “I’ll take whatever you’re having,” Desiree said as she emerged from behind me and began exploring the kitchen. “You’ve got a pretty sweet house.”

  “Thank you. I like it. And it’s convenient. I’m not too fond of long commutes.” Mr. Gordon smiled.

  “You don’t say,” I said. “A little above a regular teacher’s salary.” I tapped one of the hanging pans slightly, causing them to clang together louder than I’d expected. “I’ll have the same.”

  “You’re like a little kid,” Desiree said as she peeked into another room.

  “Two green iced teas coming up.” Mr. Gordon opened one of the large cherry wood cabinets and it turned out to be his refrigerator—appropriately hidden. “Good thing I’m not just a regular teacher. All things being relative, you can have as little or as much as you want. I like nice things, so I claimed a nice house. I don’t need a castle, even though I could have one if I so desired. I don’t limit myself to my current salary,” Mr. Gordon said.

  “You sound like you’re in the mob or something,” I said. “You just take what you want. Come to think of it, it’s also what the Lornes seem to do in Provex City.”

  “I do take what I want; I’m just not taking things from other people unless they are willing to give. Scarcity doesn’t exist in the universe. That’s a concept that is lost on many in this plane of consciousness. Everything you could possibly want is available for you whenever you ask for it, and it’s not being taken from someone else. It’s available for you. It always has been; and it always will be. If you never claim it, it’s okay. It will still be available for you.” Mr. Gordon handed us each a glass of iced tea.

  I took a sip and looked around. Desiree had already circled the kitchen several times like she was casing the joint: looking for valuables, blind spots, escape routes. She drank from her glass and placed it down on the counter immediately after. I took another sip and thought about why we were really here. Why Mr. Gordon had asked us to come to his house instead of continuing our sessions in the Room of Enlightenment. I remembered what he’d said, about trying to eliminate distractions, but something still didn’t feel right. When we were down in that secret room, there were no distractions. No one could find us as long as we reentered the classroom inconspicuously. Granted, I had screwed up once before.

  “You’re both probably wondering why I asked you to come here instead of continuing our training back at school,” Mr. Gordon started.

  Again, he seemed to be reading my mind, and I didn’t like it one bit. I had to consciously focus on my thoughts.

  “You said it was too dangerous to continue at school,” I said, like I was just continuing my train of thought aloud.

  “That I did, Mr. Grain. We need to continue with caution. There are many forces at work here. What happened with Kafka was just one piece of the puzzle and by no means guarantees your safety, Oliver. And, Miss Behring, your safety and anonymity have been compromised since you got involved—especially on your repeated visits.”

  “We’ll be more careful,” Desiree said. “I know we were careless.”

  “This is your safe house from now on,” Mr. Gordon said. “Day or night, if anything happens, this is where I want you to come. It doesn’t matter if I’m home or not. I trust you can get in without a key?”

  Desiree and I both nodded.

  “So you know that the skill of traveling to another plane opens more than just that door.”

  Desiree went back to her glass, took a sip, and left it again to stand in the doorway to a plush sitting room. “This place feels safe.”

  “Shall we get started?” Mr. Gordon asked and guided us into the sitting room—his parlor. He took a seat in one of three matching chairs, across from a light green couch, and all surrounding a glass coffee table. After placing his half-empty glass on the table in front of him, he sank back into the chair and crossed his legs.

  Desiree sat in the chair next to Mr. Gordon and I took the couch, sitting smack dab in the center to claim it all for myself.

  A three-divider sliding glass door extended across the wall behind Desiree. The one thing this house had that wasn’t very big was its backyard. There was a concrete patio and a small strip of grass beyond that. The yard was enclosed by a brick riser with flowers and bushes, which hid the bottom of a white painted fence.

  “Are we going to do more seeing exercises?” Desiree asked, sliding off her lavender Converse and curling her feet up on the chair.

  “Your trips to and from Provex City are pretty remarkable, even with help, for the short amount of time we’ve been working together. And you’ll see even more with continued practice, but that’s not something we need to continue to focus on. It’s time to up the ante—time to learn something new, something that will challenge you even more. It’s important to continue to challenge, and thus expand your belief in what’s possible. As your beliefs c
hange and more things become possible, they will do so more and more rapidly.

  “The reason most people remain the same in their current reality is because to them, their reality is a constant: The one thing that does not change. What we’re doing is proving that this is not the case. Reality is actually a variable, malleable, and changing all the time. What we’re doing will allow you to change with reality—bend with it to reach your desired results—because it’s not a constant. It’s not ‘as is.’ It is yours to tame and master, which is something the Lorne family has learned to do quite well over the centuries.”

  “Centuries?” Desiree asked.

  “More than I care to count, my dear.” Mr. Gordon leaned forward in his chair and looked at the both of us very intently, but keeping the majority of his focus on me. “There are five ways to get something for yourself. Can either of you tell me one of those ways?”

  Desiree and I looked at each other like we needed the other person’s permission to speak.

  “You can ask for it,” Desiree said.

  “That’s true. Like my drink for instance. Why don’t you ask for it?”

  “May I have your drink, Mr. Gordon?”

  “You may,” Mr. Gordon said and passed Desiree the glass. “Ask and ye shall receive.”

  Desiree lifted the glass in a cheers-like motion and placed it back on the table.

  “Very good. That would actually be the second way to get something. Persuade someone to give it to you, in which there are two ways, so they take up spots two and three. Number two is to emotionally persuade someone to give something to you, and number three is to subconsciously persuade someone to give something to you. But we’re missing the most obvious one.”

  “How about getting it yourself?” I asked.

  “There you go, Oliver. Welcome to the conversation.” Mr. Gordon smirked.

  Desiree suppressed a laugh, and possibly a snort.

  “Subconscious persuasion is a useful tool, but can also be dangerous when used irresponsibly.”

  “Are you going to teach us how to do that?” Desiree asked.

  “We’ll get to that, but not today. Today I would like to focus on the fourth way of getting yourself something, and that is to bring the object to you.” And as Mr. Gordon said it, he reached for his glass still sitting in front of Desiree, which shivered slightly, and then slid lightly across the table into his open hand. “You’ve probably heard of telekinesis.”

  Desiree and I both nodded. We weren’t really surprised by the movement anymore. But at least for me, the thought of finally learning to do something like that was rather exciting.

  The force is strong with this one. I laughed to myself at the thought.

  Mr. Gordon took a sip of his iced tea and smiled. “Desiree, I can’t help but notice that you left your drink in the kitchen. Were you done with it?”

  “Oh, I guess I forgot. I’ll go get it.” Desiree sounded a bit frazzled.

  “Here,” Mr. Gordon simply said and put his glass back down on the coffee table. As soon as his glass clinked with the table, an identical one appeared in front of Desiree, except that her glass was full. “And that’s the fifth way of getting something—manifesting it.”

  I immediately got a flashback of sitting across from Kafka when he manifested glasses of red wine.

  “Thanks, Mr. G.” Desiree repositioned herself so she could reach her newly created glass of iced tea. She took a careful sip like she was afraid it would burn her lips or she expected it to taste disgusting. “This one’s a little colder than the one you gave me before.”

  Mr. Gordon just shrugged. “I’ll let you get your own next time.” He looked back at me. “Are you okay, Oliver?”

  I snapped out of my flashback and noticed my hands shaking, the tea almost sloshing over the edge of the glass tightly gripped in my hands. “I’m fine.”

  Mr. Gordon gave me a critical look. I could tell he was trying to get into my head, dig into my thoughts to find the source of my anxiety.

  “Seriously, I’m fine,” I said again.

  Mr. Gordon took a moment to see if I was going to say anything else, to give him any information, but to his visible disappointment, I didn’t.

  “Okay, everyone put your glasses down on the table, in the center, like so.” Mr. Gordon placed his glass down first. Desiree and I followed, creating an equilateral triangle of iced tea glasses. “Now, your challenge is to get your glass to slide back toward you.”

  I waited to get more direction, but Mr. Gordon sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. He offered nothing more. What was I supposed to do? I could see my glass. This was a totally different exercise. Seeing through expanded awareness and magically moving something with my mind were two completely different things. And Mr. Gordon, with his lack of direction, was treating them as if they were the same.

  “Oliver, you look frustrated,” Mr. Gordon said, snapping me out of my thoughts again.

  Desiree had taken a seat on the floor, her chin just clearing the edge of the table. She stared intently at her glass.

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” I said.

  “Do you see your glass?” Mr. Gordon asked almost in a whisper.

  “Yes.”

  “You see it on the table, but do you see it in your mind’s eye?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Picture it in your mind’s eye. Make it as clear as you see it on the table. Re-create the surroundings so your entire created reality is believable to you. It’s infinitely harder to move an object through a void or partial creation.

  “See your glass in your mind’s eye with your re-creation of this room in crystal clarity. Now pull it toward you. When you can erase the line between your reality and your creation, then you will see your glass move as your mind has commanded.”

  And just as Mr. Gordon finished speaking, Desiree’s glass shook violently and fell over, sending a deluge of iced tea toward her. The glass cracked and rolled in a semi-circle until it was stopped by mine.

  Desiree gasped and jumped to her feet, trying to avoid the rush of incoming liquid.

  “I’m so sorry!” she cried.

  Mr. Gordon chuckled and performed three slow claps. “You are a quick study, Miss Behring.” He didn’t seem concerned about his carpet or the cracked glass whatsoever.

  And then I saw the first reason why. The deluge of iced tea flowed to the edge of the coffee table and stopped. Not a drop spilled over onto the carpet. A thin layer of liquid laid calmly across the coffee table with nothing seemingly holding it in place.

  Mr. Gordon reached for the fallen glass. When he picked it up, I noticed the cracks in the glass were gone. When I looked back at the table I noticed the shallow pond of iced tea was gone as well. And when I looked back to the glass that Mr. Gordon was placing back with the others, it was once again full.

  “I almost had it, didn’t I?” Desiree asked, plopping into her chair with her knees up near her chin. “I moved the glass, even if I only knocked it over.”

  “Did you see it fall over in your mind’s eye, or did it glide gently toward you?” Mr. Gordon asked.

  “I saw it move toward me.”

  “That’s okay. You just need to provide a clearer picture. There was a slight disconnect between your mind’s creation and reality. But now you know what you need to do. And with a little practice…” Mr. Gordon stopped. He looked over at me. “Don’t get frustrated that she picks up things a bit faster.”

  “Just because she’s a step ahead, doesn’t mean I’m not keeping up,” I said in reaction. I was tired of her being the star pupil when these sessions were designed for me.

  “Exactly right.” Mr. Gordon turned to Desiree. “Can you provide any insight to how you created your mental picture?”

  “I thought of something Darius, the friend we made in Provex City, said to me at the fair. He said he believed that I was drawn to him through space and time. I tried to use a similar belief toward my glass, to draw it to m
e through space and time. It kinda worked.”

  “That’s an interesting approach.”

  Listening to what Darius had said to Desiree only reminded me of how unsure I was about our relationship—how little I knew about where I currently stood with her.

  “And goes to show you that there’s never just one way to do something,” Mr. Gordon continued. “Oliver, maybe that’s a different approach you could try.”

  “Or maybe I could kick the table and knock them all over.” I quickly shutdown like Jeremy did every time I brought up Provex City. I didn’t even want to look over at Desiree to see her reaction to my remark. I couldn’t focus on a stupid glass of iced tea. It didn’t matter.

  “Maybe we should just call it a day,” Mr. Gordon said and stood up, snatched up the three glasses in both hands, and walked into the kitchen. “I can give you both a ride home if you want.”

  Mr. Gordon only got one syllable responses from us. I let Desiree ride shotgun so I could sulk in the back. To my delight, the drive was quiet all the way home. He dropped off Desiree first and I got out, too. It would be a short walk. I just needed to get out of the car.

  Mr. Gordon drove away and Desiree marched up her driveway with her hands stuffed in her coat pockets.

  “In the cemetery, you told me not to ask about what’s happening between us. You told me you were too overwhelmed by everything that’s happened to deal with it. I respected your space, your time to grieve and recoup and whatever. But I just don’t know where we stand anymore. I definitely feel like I’m losing you now.”

  Desiree stopped halfway up her driveway, shook her head, and turned back toward me. I noticed a tear trickle down her right cheek. She sniffled loudly.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t know what I’m feeling. You’re not losing me, Oliver. I just need you to be patient with me.”

  “I can do that,” I said. “I just need to know that I haven’t lost you. I don’t think I could handle that.”

  Desiree came back to me, and when she stopped, we were toe-to-toe. She looked me in the eyes with a tear now rolling down her left cheek.