K Breese - Future Imperfect

Vaux says, “We broke up a week later. And then, I just needed to be in that place again. To have that feeling again. Parties. I’m embarrassed by some of the things I’ve done. That I still do. But I…” And she shakes her head.

“I know,” I say. “I know.”

Vauxhall asks, “Want to know why I sang to you?”

“Of course.”

“When I first walked into the lunchroom I saw you sitting with your friend and the first thing I thought was that you were incredibly cute. Only all jacked up with bruises in a prizefighter sort of way. I saw you sitting there, with Paige, and I got jealous. It sounds silly, but I wanted you all for myself the moment I saw you. I wanted you-”

“You saw me and thought, Hmmm, wonder what’s in that dude’s past that he doesn’t know about?”

“No.”

“What, then?”

Vaux’s face relaxes, the tears stop. “I don’t know what it was, this feeling, this flutter, but when I saw you, I knew you’d understand me. I knew you’d help me. Maybe you’d even love me.”

“I do.”

“I know. At first, it scared the hell out of me.”

I get closer. So close I can feel the warmth radiating off her skin. “And now?”

And now we kiss.

Finally.

Vaux’s lips are softer than anything I’d ever imagined. Moist too. They are perfect and as my lips sink into hers, it’s like I’m swimming. I’m pushing through the crystal water around the Great Barrier Reef. I’m slipping into a shallow sea.

Looking deep into me, Vaux says, “Were you scared to stop?”

“Yes but not for long.”

Vaux whispers, “I’m scared.”

“I know-”

“And really anxious.”

“I’m here for you. I love you.”

And we kiss again. Hard.

What happens in my chest is hard to describe. It’s something I imagine only happens in the deepest parts of space. It’s when a star collapses. Or is born. A supernova flowering into existence. What happens in my body is nothing short of miraculous. Every fiber connecting to every muscle and every tendon and every bone. All of it comes alive. All of it hums with a beautiful energy. A song.

This is magic greater than any concussive high.

My head clearer than it’s ever been, like it’s floating up into the sky, gliding over the treetops and scuffing roofs.

And then we leave.

On the doorstep to Vaux’s house, I don’t try to kiss her. I just hold her hand and look her in the eyes and tell her I’ll see her soon. I tell her to sleep tight. I say, “I’ll never leave you.”

An hour later, at home, lying awake in bed, I’m trying to will every cell in my body to remember the feel of her, the weight of her, against me.

My pillow is a terrible stand-in.

Dark Lord von Ravengate,

Cool spell. Thanks for sending it over. Not sure exactly what it’s supposed to do, but if I am ever threatened by anything spooky while I’m out, it’s good to know I’ve got backup. Supernatural or not.

You know, you raised some good questions. Here I’ve been asking all these experts to help explain this thing to me, why I can do what I can, and all the answers I get are vague. You’re the only one so far who’s given me any “definitive” answer, even if it’s not what I was expecting to hear. I suppose you’re right: It doesn’t really matter how I got the ability or if anyone believes me. I need to just accept that.

What if it really is a parallel dimension? That’s a new suggestion. Not even the physics prof came up with that one. It’s a good idea, but I don’t like it. Not because it doesn’t make sense but because, in the long run, it means that I will just end up a vegetable. If what I see is just another me in another, parallel place, then that’s jacked. I’m jacked. Let’s hope that’s not true.

I wish I could help you more, Heinz. But my schedule, what with school (I know, I know) and my mom and this whole new blossoming romance, I just don’t think I could man the booth at the mall with you. Thanks for asking, though.

And if I ever do see crimson, enflamed sigils, you’ll be the first person I call. Seriously.

Rock on,

Ade

Not even Garrett can disrupt my good vibes.

Swim practice is like bathing in energy. The pool is warmer than it’s been in years. Decades maybe. I ignore Garrett’s stares. He even has the gall to point at me and then make that finger across the throat slashing gesture like he’ll really do it. The guy’s a shell of his former stud self. I’ve knocked him back to grade school.

Coach Ellis has pretty much given up on me.

Already. But still he lets me practice with the team because it gives him someone to hate. Someone to compare and contrast his best swimmers with. Me, I’m his foil. I’m his example of how not to be.

For me, swimming’s just a super-nice workout.

I get home and want to take a nap, my body aching from the tension of the past few weeks, but Mom’s beaming and tossing her car keys up in the air and catching them. Something I don’t think I’ve ever once seen her do.

“Want to go out to dinner?”

“I’d love to.”

On our way out, we pass four people walking up to our front door. They’ve got folding chairs and a cooler. These freaks are going to wait it out, it seems.

Mom, she sees them but says nothing.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I’m fine with anything.”

Mom shrugs. “A friend at church recommended a place on Colfax.”

We have dinner at Good Friends. I just talk. Words stumble out. Mom listens intently, bits of her salad falling off her fork as she leaves it shivering just below her chin.

At one point she’s nodding to herself not talking to me.

Not listening.

Eyes glossy and her head nodding rhythmically. It’s like she’s had a stroke. I ask her if she’s okay and she says, “Ade, I really do think it will happen soon. Can’t you just feel the energy in the air?”

“Yeah. No. What will happen soon?”

“The rising up. The end of our earthly bonds. I am so looking forward to seeing your grandmother again. I’m sure she’s excited as all get out to see you too.”

“Sure, Mom. It’ll be swell.”

By the end of the meal Mom’s eaten maybe a third of her salad. Most of the time she’s just spent mumbling to herself, pointing at my plate, telling me to eat up, and laughing at awkward moments in response to something funny only she can hear.

I haven’t seen my mom like this before.

I imagine Mom before the divorce, when Dad still loved her. When she still loved him. I remember her laughing and having fun, her not concerned about eternal salvation but about how I was doing in school and what movie I wanted to see on the weekend. This mom, the one rambling and lost in front of me, it’s clear why Dad vanished.

The ride home we’re going slow because I’m tired.

It’s raining hard. The road is a river and I can barely see.

But I’m so tired on top of it.

I want to pull over. I want just take a break.

I think about asking Mom to drive, but figure we’re close. We must be only a few blocks from home. That’s when it happens, my eyes close down. We’re somewhere just past Eighth Avenue and I stop seeing.

I hear the crash before I wake up.

This, me crashing the car on accident, is completely new.

The sound is like a wave and I imagine it rampaging down Monaco and sweeping over cars and ripping hedges loose. The night sky sparking as the streetlamps topple over and split. Next comes the crunch. My head meets the wheel despite the seat belt, despite the fact I’m only going thirty. I can’t see her but I know Mom’s hands are clasped in prayer, her face as content as when she’s fast asleep. For her, this wreck could be a one-way ticket to salvation.