The Conversion

by DK Andrews

I ask, changing the subject.

  “He’s sleeping,” Christina says quietly.

  “Already?” I say in disbelief

  “Well, yes. We’re not spring chickens anymore—we need our beauty sleep.” She smiles softly. “Besides, he spent a lot of time driving, and it completely drained him.”

  “How was the trip?” I ask, looking over to observe Micah and Bennett playing in the middle of living room. My heart is aching. Only two more weeks and I’ll will be gone. What will Micah’s days be like without me? How will he do in school? What about college? He will have enough money to go to a good universities. He’s good at math—maybe he’ll become a scientist who will help people like me.

  I’m sure when Micah is older he will get a lot of attention from girls. He’s gorgeous. I’m still amazed by how our horrible mother managed to produce a beauty like Micah. I tilt my head to the right and melt by the innocence of these kids.

  I realize I’ve tuned out again, and have missed almost all of Christina’s camping story. “—but overall the trip was awesome! We can’t wait to go again next weekend, right guys?”

  “Yah!” they all shout, Bennett and Micah pumping their fists in the air.

  “That’s wonderful Christina,” I say.

  “Are you coming with us, Alina?” Cristina asks.

  “Oh…”

  “Yes Lina!”Micah begs. “Please come with us!”

  “I would love to, but—well… I just got this job, so I can’t take any time off so soon, unfortunately.” I look away from Christina’s gaze.

  “Surely you will have days off, right?”

  Of course, that’s something I hadn’t thought about.

  “Yes, I was off yesterday,” I lie. God, I’m getting good at this.

  “Oh, I see,” Christina says, raises an eyebrow.

  “I’ll see what I can do, OK?” I say, lying again, but needing to talk about something else.

  “Perfect!” Christina says. “Well, we should probably get these guys to bed soon.”

  I probably need to get some sleep too. I’m afraid of the bed… I know for a fact that as soon as my head hits the pillow, all the thoughts, all the fears, all the emotions will plug up my mind. The world seems closer to my eyes, and the air becomes soupy, harder to breathe. A glossy sheen coats my eyes and my thoughts scatter like there's an electrical storm in my head—too many short-circuits to make any sense. The only thing that comes to mind is, "run away… run away…". I clench my fists tightly until my nails dig into my palm, trying to snap out of my restlessness.

  I hear Christina’s bedroom light switching off—I need to get to sleep.

  I sit by Micah’s bed and run my hands through his hair.

  “I’m so sorry” I whisper, sobbing. I’m alone now, I can cry as much as I want. The bracelet is deactivated; I’m no longer dependent on it. I’m free to go, I can leave now. Could I? Surely I’d let Dr. Kismen down, but do I really care about her anyway? My life is slipping through my fingers. I can grab Micah and run! We can run together. To a different city! A different country! But how can I do that with only 160 dollars in my pocket?

  Micah turns in his bed.

  What about Gabriel? He’s real, isn’t he? I still don’t know. But it’s possible that tonight is the only chance I’ll have to run and not look back.

  “Oh God, please tell me what I should do!” I call to heaven. “Run or stay?”

  I can’t fight—I have no energy to. I want to float. Float on the river of life until my Conversion. I hate myself for wanting to see Gabriel again. If I run, he dies. According to Dr. Kismen, tomorrow I will know more, and I will be able to determine what to do. But will I?

  I try to hold back my tears. I have to stop crying or else my face and eyes will be puffy tomorrow morning.

  Gabriel, why the hell did I meet you? As Dr. Kismen said, Dators shouldn’t be crossing paths with Receivers. I hate you Gabriel for screwing everything up for me.

  I need to pull myself together. So I stumble to my bed. After tomorrow’s session, if the bracelet is still deactivated, I will run together with Micah. We will run into the unknown—into a scary adult world. Actually, I will not even wait for the session. I will make my decision after I see Dr. Kismen tomorrow morning.

  MYSTERY UNFOLDING

  I'm contemplating ringing the doorbell. But maybe I should run. What will be better?

  Micah is still at Christina’s, sleeping. Why didn’t I just run with him? I aggressively scratch my forehead and growl. I’m here now, at Dr. Kismen’s house.

  Her place, a classic dual-level terrace, is nestled in one of the nicest areas of the city, her yard is spacious and green she’s only a block away from cozy cafes and restaurants. I can only dream of living in an area like this. I guess ten years of schooling to become a doctor pays off eventually.

  The terrace is blue, a dim light is poking through a curtain. She’s awake and waiting for me.

  There are three steps leading to the front door. I inch forward and place my foot on the first one. I exhale all the air out of my lungs. I’m a stupid girl, I think—I was given an opportunity to run and forget about everything, and I didn’t take it. I wasted it. Unfortunately, I just know the way my mind is: even if I did run away, my decision would haunt me for the rest of my life. Eventually, I will probably end up taking my own life. As far as I’m concerned, my anxiety, guilty conscience, and hopelessness are not going anywhere.

  The second step comes easier than the first as if I’m slowly accepting everything that’s happening. I put my two feet on the second step and stand motionless. The wind blows, and my ivory dress opens up like a flower bud. My hair tie is next to my bracelet on my wrist. I tie my hair tight.

  “It’s time to go,” I tell myself, taking the third and final step, placing my foot so far that for a second, I feel as though I’m about to lose control, but I gain it back quickly.

  My hand quivers when I lift it up to ring the doorbell. Damn it! I knock on the door instead. In a moment of fear, I pray she won’t answer, but I hear footsteps approaching. I can feel my death getting closer.

  Her house alarm makes a brief beeping sound when she opens the door for me.

  “Oh! Good morning, Alina,” Dr. Kismen says, looking fresh and elegant in her business dress.

  “Good morning. Didn’t expect to see me?” I quip.

  “Well—” she stops her sentence and shows me inside. “—I thought there was a chance you might take this opportunity to run away.”

  “I definitely thought about it,” I say honestly. It’s nice to be straightforward for once.

  “I’m glad you are being honest with me,” she says with a smile.

  We walk down the hallway. I pay attention to the fabric and design. Her place has a lot of character; I can tell it’s been refurbished. It combines antique features and character with modern additions, warm colors, and decoration. The roomy living area is composed of a spacious corner with two sofas that look extremely comfortable, wooden beams, art paintings, and modern equipment. At the end of the living area, there is a long balcony that lets a lot of natural light in. I imagine her having a coffee on the balcony every morning, breathing in the scent of flowers.

  Even though I love the look of her home, something doesn’t seem to be quite right here. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as if sensing the presence of something. I glance around and spot a photograph on the mantelpiece. I head straight to it—I want to know who is in the picture.

  Lifting up the dusty wooden frame and looking closely, I see a happy couple posing for the camera. Dr. Kismen looked so different when it was taken. Strange as it sounds, she appeared in the picture to be more real than in real life. The man in the picture is tall and broad-shouldered; despite his smile, his eyes look sad. I guess my first impression of Dr. Kismen was wrong. She does not have a cat that’s waiting for her every night—she’s got a man instead.

  “Would you mind putting that down?” Dr. Kismen asks.


  I place the picture back where it belongs and lock eyes with her.

  “Please sit down,” she says, pointing to one of the couches. “I made us coffee.” She invites me to take one of the cups from the coffee table.

  I smile. “Coffee might actually be a good idea right now, thanks.”

  “There is sugar and milk too if you need some.”

  “I’m fine—I like it black.”

  “We have a few minutes. Let’s finish our coffee, and then I will take you somewhere.” Her tone is friendly.

  “Where?” I ask impatiently.

  “You’ll see.”

  “Hm—” I sigh, taking a sip of coffee. My face crumbles like an old paper bag.

  “Too strong?” she says with a chuckle.

  “May be a little,” I admit.

  “Just put some sugar in,” Deanna says, trying to hide her smile.

  I put one teaspoon in and stir it. “Where is your husband?” I ask abruptly.

  “Pardon?”

  Her face turns red, possibly from anger—or maybe embarrassment.

  “—Or boyfriend,” I rush to clarify.

  “I don’t have one!” she says in a slightly raised voice. Must’ve been anger.

  “Who’s the man in that picture, then?”

  I hardly have time to be polite.

  “That’s not really your business,” she replies sharply, putting her coffee cup down on the table. She’s definitely mad.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m acting so inappropriately.”

  “Because you are a teenager,” she says, “and that’s what you sometimes do.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “You want to know who the man in