The Possible

by Tara Altebrando

“No.”

  “Then sorry, but no.”

  They took my photo and printed a sheet for me, with the date and time and my name and Crystal’s name. Then my guard escort and I went through a sliding door that then clanked behind us. A gate in front instantly clanked and opened.

  I followed the guard down a long hallway and through a swinging door and a series of double doors. Inside, a different guard checked my paperwork and then pointed me toward a room on the right, where yet another person checked my paperwork.

  I was told to empty my pockets, put my belongings in a locker. I only had my phone on me, should have left it with my parents, except that giving my parents access to my phone was probably not the best idea in general.

  Paperwork in hand, I was shown out another door and got on a blue bus. You could tell it was an old school bus that somebody had painted.

  The day was hot, blue, clear, and I started thinking about what it would be like to barely be outside. Like ever. What that did to your skin, to your eyes, to your brain. To have to sit inside someplace for most of your life and only imagine the freedom to do something as simple as enjoy a gorgeous day. What it would be like to never be able to think, “I think I’ll go to the beach today” and just go. To never be able to take a walk, even if you realized as soon as you were walking that you didn’t actually want to take a walk. To never get soaked by some random downpour at the worst possible time and be annoyed about it but then realize you were an idiot for getting upset over something so dumb and random as rain.

  I got off at C-block and went through another set of butterfly doors, and another guard checked my paperwork, then showed me into the dayroom. There were about ten tables and a couple of vending machines.

  Along one side of the room were seats with partitions and glass.

  “Where should I wait?” I asked.

  “Table,” the guard said. “Crystal’s got dayroom rights.”

  I studied the tables, trying to decide on the best one, but they were all pretty much the same.

  Doors opened and in came a parade of prisoners. They looked up and their hard faces mostly turned to smiles as they went off to various tables. At the glass across the room, two women waited with a cubicle between them. Two guards were circling the room.

  The doors where the inmates had come from closed.

  My heart panicked. She was going to bail.

  But then the door reopened.

  •••

  I never knew it before right then, but there are moments when life becomes this palpable thing. Events themselves can feel physical in the way they call out your connection to something bigger—the world? Some kind of actual life force that you can feel. Like holding a heartbeat in your hand.

  Crystal had, for so long, been an abstract idea. She was a memory. She was a headline. A wormhole on the Internet. She was my “birth mother,” like that was somehow less and also more.

  Now she was a woman, flesh and skin and hair and bones. She’d given birth to me. There had been blood and screams and placenta.

  There had been Jack.

  Sweet, sweet Jack. He’d been a boy. Real. Alive. Then breathless. There’d been an ambulance and paramedics and tubes and blue lips. There’d been a body. Buried. Rotting in the ground.

  I’d never visited his grave, didn’t know where he was.

  What was wrong with me that I hadn’t done that? Didn’t know that? How had I been sleepwalking in my own life for so long?

  Seeing Crystal in the flesh made me panic about everything that had ever happened to me and everything that would. She’d changed my diapers. Would I ever have a child and change their diapers? She’d killed my brother. Would I ever feel that kind of murderous rage?

  This was my life.

  Crashing into me with a force that nearly bowled me over.

  I saw myself, so small, living in a tiny world that was now forever picked up and shaken.

  •••

  Her hair was a dried-out cornfield and her skin a worn leather handbag. She had resting bitch face, so I knew where I’d gotten it from. Or maybe she was actively angry all the time, or just now, about to see me? She looked at least ten years older than my mom even though my mom was maybe two years older.

  She took a seat at the table across from me with the same sort of purposeful swagger I saw in boys in the cafeteria at school all the time. Like they thought that taking up space in an apelike, hunched way was somehow cool. Once she was sitting, I couldn’t see her legs but I knew her knees were man-spread.

  She said, “Long time no see,” and laughed awkwardly. She shook her head and looked away. I smelled cigarettes.

  I studied the guard who was standing nearest to us. He had on a blue uniform with a radio device on his belt, and he was chewing gum with his mouth closed, his jawbones chomping behind his cheeks like there was some small rodent in there, chewing the gum for him. I could feel her studying me and felt my own jaw tighten. Why had I come?

  “You turned out all right,” she said.

  I turned to her. “What do you mean by ‘all right’?”

  “Okay looking. Not pretty, exactly, but not bad either. Your father was good-looking, if it’s who I think it was, at least.”

  I looked back at the guard, thinking do-you-believe-this-shit? But he either didn’t care or wasn’t listening. The rodent chewed on. I just looked back at her and waited.

  She shrugged her orange shoulders. “You’re the one that wanted to come.”

  “I thought maybe if you looked me in the eye and I asked you if the whole thing was a hoax, I’d know for sure whether to believe you or not.”

  She said, “I don’t care what you believe.”

  I looked around the room, wondering about the crimes all these people had committed, and who their visitors were. Like that girl, she didn’t look much younger than I was and that was probably her mom. Drugs? What? Did any of them know about Crystal’s crazy past? The past-past, when she’d been famous for making objects fly. Did they ever wonder if she could unlock the gates and let them all go free? Did she ever try?

  “You think you’re smarter than me?” Crystal said.

  “What if I do?”

  “I think you’re a scared little girl. I think you’re not sure about whether or not you’re right in the head. And you don’t want to know the truth.”

  “What’s the truth, Crystal?” I said, regretting having come.

  “The truth is I have powers.” She shrugged and shifted in her chair. “Don’t want ’em. Have ’em anyway.”

  “So prove it.”

  “To you?”

  “Why not me? I mean, yes, especially me.”

  She sat there and stared at me and I stared at her. Her eyes weren’t the same. The lid on one was heavier seeming, or darker, like she’d only taken off half her eye shadow the night before. I was trying hard not to blink, like we were having a contest to see who could go the longest without a millisecond of shut-eye. Coughing sounds from the guard couldn’t get me to look away. But no, not coughing, choking?

  I broke Crystal’s hold, admitted defeat, blinked and looked at the guard. He had his hands to his throat, was bent at the waist, choking silently.

  I stood, my chair scraping loudly under me. “Are you okay?”

  A gag-like sound. A dry heave, then gum landing on the floor. His head hung down by his thighs, now breathing heavily.

  “Holy shit,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You okay, man?” Another guard had come over.

  “I have to step out,” he said.

  The other guard took his place.

  Crystal hadn’t moved an inch. “He’s not supposed to chew gum on the job,” she said.

  I waited for the conversations in the room to start up again, then sat. “You did that?”

  She shrugged. “You asked.”

  “You couldn’t have just”—I looked around the room—“moved a chair?”

  “Where’s the fun in that? And anyway, could
you hear that chewing? So damn loud? I’m sensitive to sounds.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “me, too.”

  Her features were flat.

  “Now I know where I get the RBF from, too.”

  “What’s RBF?” Now annoyed.

  “Resting bitch face.”

  She gave me this look that I took to mean she didn’t understand what I was talking about but didn’t want to admit it. “You think I’m a bitch?”

  I couldn’t bring myself to say yes.

  She sat back in her chair, crossed her arms, and smiled. “Well, it takes one to know one.”

  “Liana said you have a new theory on what happened to Jack?”

  She got up and cracked her knuckles. “Yeah, I’m gonna let her tell you all about that,” she said with a snort and started to walk away.

  “That’s it?” I stood, my chair squeaking.

  “What’d you expect, honey? Hugs and kisses?”

  •••

  “How’d it go?” my mom asked, standing in the waiting room. My father stood and yawned and stretched.

  I burst into tears.

  “Oh, Kay. Kay, Kay, Kay.” Mom took my hand. “What happened?”

  I couldn’t speak. Could only shake my head.

  “Was she awful?” she said, sort of hopefully, I thought.

  But . . .

  Well . . .

  I nodded.

  I couldn’t tell my parents. They wouldn’t understand.

  Mom pulled me into a hug, stroked my head. “I’m so, so sorry, Kay. So very sorry.”

  •••

  I called Liana as soon as I was able to talk alone. “I asked her to prove she had powers. She made the guard choke on his gum.”

  “What?” She sounded smaller, younger. “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you take a video? Picture? Anything?”

  “You know phones aren’t allowed,” I said.

  “So it’s your word. That’s all we have.”

  “Yes, my word! My word is good! And the guard’s!”

  “You think he’ll talk to me? Knowing what she can do, if she really can?”

  “I’m telling you,” I said. “It was real.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because, well, there have been things.” I had to make an effort to slow my own breathing. “That have happened to me.”

  “Are you kidding me? Now you tell me this?”

  “What’s your problem?” I shouted.

  “The whole list or the top ten?”

  I felt stung all over, couldn’t think what to say.

  She breathed and let out a weird kind of groan. “I have cancer, Kaylee.”

  “What?” My throat seized up.

  A sound I didn’t recognize at first came through the line; she was crying.

  I said, “But you look . . .”

  “Small. Caught early. Probably totally treatable.”

  I thought about her daughters, what they knew or didn’t. Most likely didn’t. How messed up they’d be if Liana died. How her husband would remarry some awful woman who wouldn’t love them. How they’d never know that their mother was this super scrappy, wicked smart, totally annoying fireball of a woman.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Aw crap.” She was sniffling. “I shouldn’t have told you.” More sniffling. “Listen, we’ll talk when you’re back, okay?”

  •••

  My parents had Yelped their hearts out and found a nice restaurant for us to have dinner at that night. Our flight back wasn’t until the morning. We ate elaborate pasta dishes and they drank red wine and the whole thing probably looked festive to everyone else in the restaurant.

  I locked eyes once with a boy about my age—maybe a little older—out with his parents. He was cute. But he lived in Pittsburgh. He could not be my prom date.

  •••

  “I’m going to make a call,” I said, when we got back to the hotel. I indicated a couch in the lobby.

  “Okay,” my mom said. “But don’t be long.”

  I sat on the orange couch and waited for my parents to disappear into an elevator, then called Aiden.

  “How’d it go?” he asked, without saying hi.

  “She’s just this awful, awful person.” The tears started to surge and I tried to dam them up. “And she made a guard choke, like to show me that her powers were real. I couldn’t believe it.”

  “I don’t believe it,” he said.

  “You weren’t there. I was there. It was real. And the other day. I stared at one of my snow globes, trying to get the snow to move. And it started leaking. How do you explain that?”

  He didn’t say anything, just breathed.

  “Liana believes me,” I said. “She also just told me she has cancer.”

  Still nothing and then I felt bad for using Liana’s cancer to try to get Aiden to feel something. Anything. “Hello? Earth to Aiden.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what to say at this point, Kay.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Thanks for being so supportive and understanding.”

  “I have been,” he said. “It’s just . . .”

  “Just what?”

  “Can we talk when you’re back and calmed down? Kathryn’s here and I can’t really talk so—”

  “Then why did you pick up?”

  My words hung, then he said, “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Fine.” I hung up first.

  •••

  In the morning, I went to the airport gift shop for a bottle of water and a granola bar and found myself facing a shelf of snow globes.

  Something about the very idea of it—a snow globe from Pittsburgh—struck me as sad. It wasn’t like Pittsburgh was this top vacation destination or awesome place to visit. How many snow globes could the whole of the city possibly sell in any given year?

  I wanted one anyway. I had a collection. And after the sting of all of this wore off I’d probably want some kind of physical reminder that it had happened.

  I didn’t recognize the yellow bridge or the buildings depicted. I hadn’t seen any white ferries on our brief visit. But there weren’t any snow globes that showed glittery snow falling on a prison.

  I picked the smallest, cheapest one and paid, then returned to the gate.

  •••

  LIANA CAME INTO THE CAFÉ with a girl who looked to be about five. “Couldn’t find a sitter and the husband’s at a birthday party with the other one,” she said. “Sorry.”

  “No problem,” I said, studying the girl and wondering how much she knew or understood about her mother’s life, imagining conversations they might or might not have had.

  Mommy has a podcast. What’s a podcast?

  Mommy has cancer. What’s cancer?

  “Anyway,” Liana said. “That thing I told you about. I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry.”

  I nodded, picturing the cancer cells inside her, how she probably lay awake at night thinking about them, wondering whether they were growing, attacking. Wondering whether she could meditate or will them away.

  “I’m going to be fine,” she said. “And either way, it’s not your problem. Now tell me about these ‘things’ that you mentioned.”

  •••

  I told her . . .

  •••

  The Frisbee.

  •••

  The lamp.

  •••

  The slashed pages in third grade.

  •••

  The stroke victims’ wing.

  •••

  The swing.

  •••

  The Kali River Rapids ride?

  •••

  The leaking snow globe.

  •••

  When I was done, she stared out the window, moved her daughter’s cup from the edge of the table. “I don’t know, Kaylee.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? It’s all true. It all happened.”

  Her dau
ghter put her crayon down. Her patience had run out. “When can we go to the park? You said we could go to the park?”

  Liana stopped a crayon from rolling off the table. “It’s strange, I’ll give you that.”

  “You don’t believe me? After all that? I thought it’s what you wanted.”

  “I wanted proof one way or the other.”

  “I saw her. I saw her do it.”

  “Do what?” her daughter said. “Mommy, what are you talking about?”

  Liana said, “Nothing, honey. Just color, okay, and let Mom talk?”

  She looked at me and I said, “I’m telling you that my life is the proof. I’m the proof.”

  •••

  What if no one was going to believe you anyway?

  •••

  “I have to go to the studio and do some last-minute tweaks on your episode.” She shook her head, started gathering up the crayons.

  “My episode?” My skin itched everywhere. “There’s an episode about me?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow’s.”

  “You should have told me,” I said.

  “I’m telling you now.” She dug into her bag and said, “You heard me talk about how Crystal has a new theory on the murder?”

  I nodded, and Liana pulled out earbuds and handed them to me.

  •••

  CRYSTAL: Stuff happened. When she was a baby, I mean.

  LIANA: What kind of stuff?

  CRYSTAL: I mean, I had a feeling about her. Like she got some dark piece of me.

  LIANA: What does that mean?

  CRYSTAL: She could do stuff. I swear it. I mean, stuff happened. And with Jack. I guess, well, I always wondered.

  LIANA: Wondered what?

  CRYSTAL: I could barely pick that kid up. The way he flew across that room. It wasn’t real feeling. I’ve always said it and I’ll say it again. I didn’t do it.

  LIANA: What are you saying, Crystal?

  CRYSTAL: She was jealous of him, you know. The attention I gave him, since he was the littler one. And I mean, I always thought she had something to do with it.

  LIANA: Are you saying what I think you’re saying?

  CRYSTAL: I’m saying she killed Jack, not me.

  •••

  I pulled out the earbuds, handed them back to her. “No. She’s crazy.”

  “Is she?”

  “You think I killed Jack? When I was four?” I had that feeling again, like I was going to throw up.