by Shawn Inmon
“As you can see, I am no longer from around here.” She smiled a little at that. “It’s all about perspective, Joe. And, if you remember me from high school, you must have been pretty perceptive. I was almost invisible to most people.”
“There were times I wish I could have been invisible, but I got through it.”
“Yes, you did better than I did in that regard. I had a hard time getting through it. But,” she said, rearranging a fold in her robe, there’s something I want to talk with you about.”
“Excellent change of subject. Sure, go ahead.”
“First, can you accept that I know who you truly are, and what journey you are on?”
Joe glanced at a group of children kicking a soccer ball back and forth. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“It might be simpler to just show you.” Carrie reached into the fold of her robe and pulled out a glass cylinder filled with cloudy images. She feathered it to a stop, then glanced up. The soccer ball one of the children had kicked hung in mid-air. A chickadee that had been flying overhead hung there like it was part of a child’s mobile. Everyone and everything but them was frozen in time.
Joe waved his hand in front of his face to verify that he, at least, was still able to move.
“So, what you’re saying is, we’re living inside the Matrix, just like the movie with Keanu Reeves.”
Carrie adjusted the cylinder and the ball continued its arc. The chickadee continued its flight, unaware it had been defying all known laws of gravity. She smiled at Joe and shook her head. “No, not at all. What I’m saying is, there are more forces at work here than is generally known or accepted.”
“Since I’m sitting here talking to someone who was murdered what, four, five years ago, and I just saw you stop time with your little thingamajig—“
“—Pyxis,” Carrie said. “It’s called a pyxis.”
“—Okay, your pyxis, then, I guess I have to believe you.”
That’s a strange feeling, though. When I presented people with something that felt impossible to believe with very little evidence, I expected them to believe. And now, here I am, doing the same thing, even with concrete evidence in front of me.
I mean, I do believe you. But, who are you, other than someone I went to school with?”
“I am what you might call a Watcher. Some might call us angels, although that gets into pretty complex Biblical conversations I don’t want to have.”
“Nothing to worry about there. I’m not religious.”
“Believe it or not, that will actually benefit you when you get out of this cycle you’re in.” Just as Joe opened his mouth to ask a question, Carrie said, “And, no, I’m not going to tell you what that means. I am here to help you, though.”
Joe closed his mouth and waited patiently. He had scooted back on the bench now, too fascinated to think of running away.
Besides, what good does it do to try and run away from a woman who can stop time?
“Okay, shoot. Not literally. I mean, if you’ve got a little glass thing that can stop time, I can only imagine what kind of a gun you would have hidden in those robes.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“You’ve always been one of my favorites, Joe.”
“Hold on. What do you mean – for the last four years since you died and became a—a watcher?”
Carrie shook her head. “Think about it. I just showed you how flexible time can be. I’ve been watching over your life for a long time. Here’s a secret, although you probably won’t realize the full extent of it while you’re still wrapped up in this illusion of life. You are part of my true family. Even odder, the boy who killed me is, too.”
Joe blanched. “That’s quite the family blow up, then.” He looked up and to the left, trying to recall something. “What was his name, the guy who did that to you?”
“Michael. Michael Hollister. He’s off on another life now, and doing quite well, actually.”
“Not killing any more young high school students?”
“No, he’s completely broken the habit. He and I worked things out. He apologized and I forgave him. In the end, he did me a favor. I was stuck in a loop, and he helped me get unstuck.” She stood, and the luminescent robes flowed around her, shimmering and giving off a light of their own. “Come on, let’s walk. I so rarely get back to Earth, I’d like to spend it moving.”
“Where are you normally?” Joe asked, standing and walking beside her.
“Oh, a place called The Universal Life Center. It’s really a boring place. Not worth talking about. Now. You have to stop distracting me, and let me get down to the business of why I came to talk with you.”
Joe drew a zipper across his mouth and tossed the invisible key over his shoulder.
“Do you remember Abigail Green?”
That surprised Joe. “Yeah, of course. She helped me a lot.”
“She helped me, too. I saw her too, once upon a time and another lifetime ago.”
Joe snapped to attention. “That’s right! She mentioned another patient, a woman had talked to her about being a time traveler, but she wouldn’t tell me who it was. Was that you?”
Carrie nodded. “I was still trying to find my path. My mom had just died and I felt lost, so my dad took me to see her. That’s not important, though. Here’s what is. If you had to boil down what she helped you accomplish into a single idea, what would you say it was?”
“Eeesh. That’s so tough. We worked on so many things.”
“Of course. But was there a general theme?”
“I guess the idea that when Mom was alive, I learned to behave in certain ways to deal with her drinking. Like, maybe, if I stay in my room and be quiet, Mom won’t drink so much today. Basically, trying to use what I say, do, or don’t say to influence how other people act.”
Carrie nodded and smiled. “In another few years, that might have been labeled “codependency,” but that term wasn’t in popular use in 1978. Okay. Good.”
Joe looked relieved, as though he had passed a test. “She and I talked a lot about that stuff, but she also encouraged me to go to Al-Anon, and that helped a lot, too.”
“Now, let’s look at this same question in regard to your lives. When you first woke up back in 1978, you were confused, as anyone would be. Once you recovered from that, though, what did you decide to do?”
“Well, I knew I wanted to change my life, so I went about doing that. I saw Ms. Green, I finally got myself out of the house, I volunteered at the shelter, I met Mr. and Mrs. Fornowski.”
“Yes, exactly. And, all that was perfect. That’s the whole idea behind the recycling of certain lives—to give them a chance to get on a better path and address things they didn’t in their first life.”
“I didn’t address anything in my first life. I didn’t do anything, period.”
“Yes, I know. I am a Watcher, remember?”
“The thought of someone having to watch me do nothing for twenty-five years is painful.”
Carrie shrugged, a uniquely human gesture in someone who was no longer human at all. “Continuing on. Once you did all those good things, what did you do next?”
“Next?” Joe continued walking alongside Carrie, contemplating an answer. “I suppose next, I put a list of things together I wanted to accomplish. I decided I wanted to save my friends from being stupid and dying in Mt. St. Helens. It took me two tries, but I did it. Then, I wanted to stop John Lennon from being killed, and I did.”
Speaking those memories were like ashes in his mouth. He had succeeded, but the universe had checkmated him anyway. “In the end, it didn’t change one damned thing, but I did it.” His voice was tinged with bitterness.
“Joe, I know you’re hurting from those losses. You built your whole life around saving those people, and then they died anyway.”
“Did you do that?” Joe asked, a sudden, heated accusation, his eyes flashing anger at the thought.
“No. I try never to interfere to that degree. Anything
like that happens well above my pay grade. Let’s just walk a little more.” She looked at Joe. “This is supremely odd for you, I suppose, but it is odd for me as well. After so many years of seeing you in my pyxis, it is slightly surreal to be able to hold a real conversation with you.”
After they had walked on another hundred yards, Joe calmed down and felt sorry that he had accused Carrie. Everything about her showed that she cared about him. Joe drew a deep breath. “Okay, sorry. I think I’m just frustrated. It feels like I’ve wasted two lifetimes and I’m right back where I started.”
“Are you, though? Could the Joe of your first life gotten on a plane and flown to New York? Would he risk his own life to drive hundreds of miles to save his friends? Would he even have been capable of that?”
“No,” Joe said quietly, seeing the truth in her words.
“So. If we put all of this together, what do we get? Include the lesson that you learned with Abigail Green, then add in what you’ve been trying to do. Where does that leave you.”
Joe stopped, pondering. Finally, a realization arrived full-blown, so clear a lightbulb could almost be seen above his head. “It leaves me at odds. On the one hand, my lesson is to focus on myself and to stop controlling how everyone and everything acts. On the other, I am devoting my life to trying to change and control things.” He looked at Carrie with a kind of awe at having made the connection. “And so, the harder I try to control the world, the less the world will be controlled. I can only control myself.”
“As I said, you have always been one of my favorites, Joe.” Carrie’s smile was proud, but slightly sad.
Joe looked down at the grass, gathering his thoughts, then turned to Carrie. “So, then...” His words were cut off in mid-sentence.
She was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Joe drove home in a daze. So many new concepts and ideas crowded into his brain that he wasn’t able to give any one of them more than a moment’s attention before another shouldered it aside.
As Joe pulled into the alley behind his home, KMFR radio was playing softly in the car. You’re Just What I Needed by The Cars faded out and a song began to play that Joe had never heard before, yet sounded hauntingly familiar. He put the car in park, but didn’t turn the ignition off.
What is that song? I know it, but, not quite.
It wasn’t until the chorus that he recognized the song—Forever for You, but it wasn’t his father singing it, of course. As far as Joe knew, his father’s version of that song hadn’t been played on the radio in many years.
As the final notes faded away, the disc jockey back-announced, “That’s Forever for You, by the late, great, John Lennon. It seems impossible that he won’t be making more music, but he left us with this one, and I think you’re going to be hearing a lot more of it. Gone too soon.” A commercial for a local clothing store came on and Joe switched the radio off. He sat in the car, both worn out and mesmerized by the events of the day.
Joe heaved himself out of his car, unlocked his door and went inside. He didn’t want anything other than a peaceful, quiet house to gather his thoughts. He sat on his couch and thought of the revelations of the day.
I really am living my life over and over. Carrie is the living proof, although she vanished so quickly, I could probably be convinced she was a mirage, too.
A sudden, horrible thought occurred to Joe and he sat bolt upright, then raced to his kitchen table. He picked up the phone and dialed information. When the operator answered, he asked for a number in Washington State, then jotted it down. He dialed the number as fast as the rotary dial would allow.
Why didn’t I think about this earlier? I’m an idiot.
He heard the tinny ringing of the phone on the other end once, twice, three times.
A deep male voice said, “Master’s residence, Merlin Masters speaking.”
“Oh, hey, Merlin, so damn good to hear your voice,” Joe said.
I am always gonna sound like a little kid next to Merlin.
“Who’s this? Wait. Joe? Is that you Joe?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Merlin.”
“Well, hello, my mysterious Middle Falls friend. I believe I’ve been seeing you on the news the last few months.”
“Yeah, I’ve got one of those faces that’s hard to forget.”
“You did a great thing. Another great thing, I guess I should say.”
“Thanks, Merlin. The same day that John died, a couple of friends of mine—the two guys that I was after when I met you—also died in a car crash. It was a shitty, shitty day. Just now, I was sitting here, trying to figure things out, and this terrible thought occurred to me. What if, along with John and my other friends, something had happened to you, too?”
“No, nothing happening here. Oh, I went in for bunion surgery a few weeks ago, but that’s about the most exciting thing that’s happened in our lives.”
Their conversation went on for another half hour, then Sapphire got on the phone, and another forty-five minutes passed easily. The call only ended when Joe promised he would come up for a visit in the bucolic town of Winlock, Washington, before the summer was over.
Joe hung up with a sigh of relief.
I guess not everything I’ve done in these lives is a waste. The four of them are safe and happily living a life that would have been snuffed out by the volcano. So then, why are they alive, when JD, Bobby, and John have died again?
Joe thrummed his fingers on the table, unconsciously mimicking the rhythm of Forever for You.
Maybe because their lives were spared almost by accident, like a by-product of what I was trying to do. Does the universe take things like that into account? “Above my pay grade” was what Carrie had said. I wish I could just ask her.
On a hunch, he said, “Carrie? Are you there? Can you come talk to me again?”
There was no answer but the tapping of a bush against his window.
THE NEXT MORNING, JOE woke up with a new attitude. He folded his Murphy bed into the wall, made himself some sausage and scrambled eggs, then called Debbie at the shelter.
“If it isn’t the dog-whisperer himself,” Debbie said when she recognized Joe’s voice.
“Got my cast off, and I’m mostly done with physical therapy, now. I was wondering if it would be okay if I started coming by and helping out again?”
“Okay? I’ve fed enough dogs and cats and cleaned enough poop to last me several lifetimes. Please, please come back.”
Joe chuckled. “I’ll be there in a few.”
He hadn’t been to the shelter in more than six months, and all the animals that were there then were gone. Still, it felt like a homecoming. The familiar aroma, which had once nearly made him sick, now didn’t bother him at all.
When he came in the front door, Debbie jumped up from behind the desk and rushed around to hug him, her scrawny arms wrapped around him with a vengeance.
“I was so worried about you!”
“No reason to be.”
“No, not at all. Facing down a gunman when you are unarmed. Bravest thing I’ve ever heard of. Come here,” she said, conspiratorially. “Got something to show you.”
She led Joe behind the counter and pulled out a scrapbook. Inside, on every page, were news articles she had clipped of the coverage of the whole event at the Dakota.
She beamed at him. “For posterity. I made it for you.”
Joe blushed a little, but said, “Thank you, Deb. That’s so cool.”
“Well, it’s for you, but I want to keep it here for a little while. I’ve been showing everybody who comes in. It’s great having a celebrity volunteering here.”
“I can’t wait until I’m not a celebrity any more. Hey, cages need cleaning and animals need fed?”
“You know it.”
“I’m on it.”
He pushed through the door into the kennels and stopped to listen to the cacophony of barks, woofs, and howls.
Good to be back.
He pulled the t
ools of the trade out of the closet and pushed the cart toward the far end of the facility. When he got to the last kennel, he picked the card up and read it before he looked inside. The card read, “1 scoop dog food, 1 scoop cat food.”
What the heck?
Joe looked inside and saw a gorgeous Havana Brown cat and a mixed breed Chow.
We never mix dogs and cats together. What’s going on?
“I just came to tell you, so you wouldn’t be too surprised. That’s Jenny and Allen.”
“Why are they in together?”
“Well, I made an exception. They’ve lived together since Jenny was born. That’s the little Chow mix.”
Joe looked at the two of them. Jenny had a reddish orange coat, weighed maybe twenty pounds and had one ear that flopped forward, while the other stood straight up. She looked like an overgrown fox, albeit a large one. Allen was a classic Havana Brown—deep, dark color and the almost-Siamese face, which held wise, inquiring eyes. Allen sat directly in front of Jenny, as though protecting her.
“Their owner passed suddenly last week, and there were no relatives to take them. They’ve never been separated. The neighbor lady who brought them in said that Allen is under the impression that Jenny is her dog.”
“A cat with a pet of its own, eh? Well, that’s something you don’t see every day.”
“I know it’s going to be tough to find a home. Some people want a dog, others a cat, but very few people come in looking for both at the same time. I have a feeling they might be with us a while.”
Joe opened the cage tentatively. Chows aren’t always the best-tempered dogs, and he preferred to be cautious until he knew them better. Allen just switched his tail, though, and Jenny lay still, except for a tiny wag of her tail against the concrete.
Joe kneeled down in front of Allen and said, “Pleased to meet you.”
Allen blinked his bottle-green eyes. Jenny stood and walked two steps toward Joe. She gently licked his hand with her black-spotted tongue, a sure sign of Chow blood.
Joe turned to Debbie. “I’ll take them both.”