UpSpark: A New Adult Inspirational Romance (The Five Elements Book 1)

by Nicole Wells

  "Um… I…" I realize I am fidgeting with my long sweater draped on my thigh over my jeans. I should have lifted the back before I sat, now it's bunched up underneath me. I shift nervously.

  “Tell them about Francine,” Kate intercedes on my behalf.

  I look over to her and answer just to her, which helps. "Francine was a woman I met at the grocery store. I was in Catonsville. I had just left UMBC. I enjoyed visiting there to see a friend of my dad. He enjoys teaching me about astronomy. Well, he used to. Now he…" I realize as I register the looks of confusion that I have gone off on a tangent.

  "Never mind, not important. So, Francine is this elderly lady, and she had a full shopping cart with a wonky wheel. And she was having a lot of trouble pushing it through the parking lot to her car. My heart went out to her and I helped her. When I touched her, I saw an image of her daughter. She was in a pub, and the people seemed to know her by name, and they were playing darts." I take a breath and keep going, "Francine was gushing at me, so thankful that I helped her with her groceries and then saying that I reminded her of her granddaughter, and I said, 'Oh, I didn't think your daughter had any kids' without thinking. So we got to talk. Francine has three daughters, the youngest decided for her 50th birthday she would go backpacking through Europe. Apparently, she hadn't checked in with her mom for a while, and Francine was anxious. She had even called some of the hostels she was going to be staying. I told her about my vision. She insisted on getting my number and she called me later that week to tell me that her daughter really was fine and had decided to stay in England for a bit, and had even made some friends there."

  So, word got around about my business after that and a neighbor of Francine’s was pregnant. She thought it would be fun if I tried to guess the sex of the baby. I didn’t realize it would blow up into this big thing. When I got there, it was an entire group of pregnant women who knew each other from some Pregnancy Yoga class. So, I went through to each lady and if I had a premonition, I shared it. I didn't realize one husband was recording me. Turns out, he was a film major, and turned it into this thing that went viral.”

  As I say this, I see looks of recognition dawn on people's faces.

  "He had checked back with each of the women to see if my predictions were true. At this point, it was several months later, and I thought nothing of it until people I knew started calling me, asking me about it."

  I trail off, shrugging my shoulders and splaying my hands out, as if to say, “That’s all I’ve got.”

  I hear people murmur about God being miraculous, about being blessed, but I don’t think they get this is just me being me.

  An Asian man in a dress shirt raises his hand, “What do you do to have the visions? Do you say some kind of prayer?

  “Well, the sparks have to be there.” I start, then stop at the looks of confusion. “I see stars. I call them sparks. They always precede a vision.

  “To tell if there will be sparks, I get in this loving place in my heart. Then I just kinda imagine us as two people and then take down the border dividing us. Then if I am going to get a premonition, it comes. I don’t really ask for it or force it or even make it happen. I just, I don’t know, let the love flow.”

  There are murmurs of understanding and everyone seems satisfied with my answer. Kate intercedes again, “God blesses us all with unique gifts, and we all have the same magnificent promise to be an Emissary of Love in our own way.”

  With that Kate concludes the study session and comes over to me to thank me. "I know this was awkward for you, but your presence and words made a big difference. I know you don't usually do this type of thing, but I really appreciate you going out on a limb and trying something new. I mentioned an honorarium of $50, but I also want to extend an open invitation. If you want to come again to speak, or even come as a participant, we would love to have you and I'd be happy to compensate you for your time." I thank her, unsure if I'd want to do this again. I notice people shuffling around her, waiting and looking at me, and I feel a little caged in. I don't mind answering questions, but this whole experience has me craving some alone time.

  A guy with sandy brown hair cuts to the front of the group. “Enya? Hi, I’m a friend of Fee. I think she mentioned you had to get going after this. Sorry it ran a little late. Can I walk you to your car?”

  I didn't make plans, not knowing what to expect, but I take him up on his offer. Once outside in the October chill, I turn to him to thank him. I don’t really need him to walk me to my car.

  “Thanks for rescuing me in there. How did you know I needed to get away?”

  "Fee wanted me to look after you. She knows you're a bit of an introvert." He loops one thumb into his jeans pocket, and the other he hooks behind him. "They're good people. But you're fresh meat and they can get a little carried away. And Kate can be quite impassioned when she sets her mind to something. I know Fee floated the idea to you, but it was really Kate who pushed it to happen," He shrugs like I had no say in doing this.

  “Anyway, I’m Joshua” He holds out his hand, and I awkwardly shake it, surreptitiously sneaking glances towards my car.

  He chuckles, and says, “You’re cool. I’ll see you around, ‘kay?” He saunters off as I try to figure out if he meant I’m cool I can exit the conversation now or I’m cool because I have superpowers? Shaking my head, I trot over to my car, the chill really sinking in now. Fee has the weirdest friends.

  ——— ———

  “MAKE YOURSELF COMFORTABLE” I hear and see myself say, as I walk into a family room of some sort. I sit on the couch, a serene smile as I patiently wait. He is rummaging through knick-knacks on a bookshelf — a wood carving of a wolf, a red rock, seashells, layered sand in a bottle. Fingers brush book bindings, drawing invisible horizontal lines, now up and down, and back to horizontal. An erratic dance to fit their owner.

  “It’s just … people depend on me, you know? I know it sounds vain, but people hang on my every word. It's not just the ones who want some limelight. I can see them coming a mile away. It's the fans. They put you on a pedestal. But I know that their love can be fickle. They’d just as soon laugh when I fall. But, Enya, I could make or break them. An errant word, a stupid comment or joke. I have to watch everything I say. And that’s just not me being me. The whole reason I got famous is because I’m funny, I’m likable. I mean, I got lucky, yes, but having to restrain myself? Having to constantly, metaphorically, look over my shoulder? It's draining. It's a weight on me, man. I’ve become a god to the fans, a plaything to the media, and a puzzle to break to the public.”

  "Most people are too envious of fame to see it clearly. You had no idea what you were getting into.”

  "Sometimes I just want a normal life, but that sounds so callous like I don't appreciate what most people would give anything for. But I think, how will I ever meet anyone? How will I know they love me and not some image? How will they love me for me when I'm not even myself anymore?" He finally sits next to me, nodding his head.

  I close my eyes and reach out and touch him for the first time. I literally see sparks where our skin connects.

  I nod and my smile widens, “And the future. She is out there. You are destined to find her. It is up to you whether you can keep her.”

  I shiver and disconnect. I open my eyes and fold my hands in my lap.

  “I .. All that is real?” His words come out slower than before.

  “If you want it to be.”

  “I’ve heard you say you’re not anyone special. But if that’s real, then I think you’re amazing.”

  “Did it help you?”

  He’s been still ever since the reading. He ponders this in stillness and silence.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  "Then it was real enough. And I'm not any more special than anyone else. I think anyone can do it. You just have to open your heart."

  “I didn't know what to expect. I wasn’t sure. Kylie was so adamant, and I figured, hell, why not. But I do feel differen
t, you know? Like, at peace.”

  I smile, “You found your spark again. That’s your peace. It catches from there,”

  Sparks populate my vision until I open my eyes and they start to clear. I sit in a daze, feeling the ebb as the vision lifts and I'm once again fully anchored in my body. My mind starts unpacking everything I saw. Maybe I should start taking some serious notes as Bob suggests.

  ——— ———

  I TRIPPED. I was in a rush, but it’s not even important anymore. I slowly get up; I’m fine physically. Mentally … not so much. I look at the ground, but there was no reason for me to trip. I hold out my hand, flat, and stare at it, as if that is some sort of Huntington’s litmus test. My hand is fine, it does not waver. I flex my fingers, and they respond appropriately.

  I’m fine, right? It was nothing. But the risk of dismissal is so high, if it wasn’t.

  I quickly open up a browser in my phone to make an appointment with Dr. Andrews. It couldn’t hurt. And he books out so far, I have plenty of time to cancel if I change my mind.

  I’m startled when the phone in my hand rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Enya? It’s 2:15.” Oh, right, I was hurrying to get to my room to call Yasmin. We always talk on her break between classes on Friday.

  “Sorry, I was distracted. I tripped. And you know stumbling and clumsiness are early signs of Huntington’s.”

  “Enya, people trip all the time. And I hate to break it to you, but you’ve always been a bit of a klutz.”

  “Ouch. Literally. But, yeah, I guess maybe you’re right.”

  “I’m always right. And didn’t your doc already say that it would be pretty unlikely for you to manifest signs this early?”

  “Yeah, but he is still concerned with how I’m dealing with it. He thinks I’m not dealing with it. He wants me to join all these support groups and stuff.”

  “Well, he could have a point.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Okay, enough about me. What’s up with you?”

  She proceeds to tell me all about her latest exploits, the annoying girl in class who is constantly chewing pens, the guy who smokes too much weed, and the new girl at the computer lab who’s caught her eye, now that Mandy is old news.

  chapter 22

  I'VE BEEN SPENDING MOST of my time in acupuncture clinics. When Jackie learned I'd put my plans for college on hold indefinitely, she went full-tilt into Enya-is-the-best-secretary mode and I'm working a lot more hours for her. Since she doesn't accept insurance, there's never been a lot to learn, so it's not a position that requires a lot of training. But the fact that I'm so into acupuncture, that I already know so much about acupuncture, and that I'm a people person who cares and that the clients like me too, well, she says that's hard to find. I also think she's priming me to be an acupuncturist like her, which works well with my plans to be a healer. The downside is she doesn't need me full time, but her acupuncturist friend needs help too. And that’s just even more learning for me! So now I work in two clinics and earn enough for my expenses plus some.

  They both do five element acupuncture, which tends to be more spiritual in nature. Or maybe it's just the way it is with these two women. I don't know if I will go to acupuncture school, but I love learning about it, and a lot of it is applicable for healing even if I don’t become an acupuncturist. They've both lent me books, which are sprawled throughout the apartment I share with Fee, who spends her days at Howard County Community College and her nights waitressing.

  But today, I'm in the clinic for my own appointment.

  “You're water and fire are out of balance again.”

  Knowing water related to fears, I offer that I've been uncomfortable with the premonitions and all the attention. She lets go of my wrist and sits down at her chair.

  "Why?" she asks simply, although there is no simple answer.

  “What if they aren't real? What if I'm wrong? What if people are making big decisions based on what I say? What if this is part of the disease manifesting?

  “Those are all valid concerns. I get that you’re scared. But why is your heart so involved?”

  I can't tell her that my biggest fear is that the man I've come to love might die if I allow myself to love him. Even in the sacredness of this appointment, with the confidant that I have trusted all my other hopes, dreams, and fears, this one I cannot share. What we had was so unbelievably amazing and rare, so special. It feels sacrilegious to talk of it to anyone else when anyone outside of our bubble might not understand it or honor it.

  So I do something I've never done before with her. I sidestep her question.

  "I gave a talk to this group. It was weird. I'm not comfortable with everyone thinking I've got some special power. I'm not some superhero, I'm no more special than anyone else."

  "Oh, I see. Your heart protector was taxed. You have a huge heart and it's a full-time job keeping it protected so that you can do what you do."

  “What do you mean, do what I do?”

  “Your visions.”

  “So you think they're real too?”

  “I think it's worth examining why you doubt them when evidence is to the contrary.”

  "I don't know. I guess that makes me such an outlier. I was already not like anyone else with my disease. It's just one more thing making it impossible to lead a normal life."

  "But honey, you're not normal. And you obviously weren't meant to live a normal life. You are like a sage. You are wise beyond your years. You've learned things some people spend their whole lives searching for and never find.

  “Your visions are not the cause of this, but an extension of this. You have a pure heart, and your spirit shines brighter than anyone I know.

  "Your heart is open. You see with your heart, not the false vision of your eyes. You hear the whisper of your heart, not the demands of your ego. Your actions follow from oneness and compassion, not incompetent doings of fear. Your being is your Divine presence, not an unconscious reflex of your upbringing, society, roles, and expectations.

  “As you've been reading, each organ is an official. They each have a unique job in the kingdom of the body. The Heart is the Empress of the entire kingdom. Her job is just to Be. All the officials run better knowing she's on the throne, graced with her presence.

  We also know each of us resonates more with one official than the others. That one official is our constitution. Some people are more Lung, more Spleen, more Kidney, you get the idea. You, my dear, are the Heart. Maybe because of that connection, and with your heart being so open and strong, your whole kingdom works better and you can do things others can't.

  “But I think it’s because of the nature of the Heart itself. The Heart is one of the main ways to the present moment. From there, in the Heart space, there is a collapse of space and time. So, yes, in answer to your original question, I think the visions are real. In fact, I think your visions are more than visions. They are a gateway. Kind of like dream walking.”

  She pats my hand. “But I get ahead of myself. Enough talk. Try to let those thoughts go for now. Just focus on the breathing. Come to the here and now and let the needles do the work.”

  ——— ———

  HIS SHIRT BUNCHES under my hand and I cling to him as he kisses me stupid. His arms band around me, helping to keep me upright. I lean into him, my hands splaying and then spreading across his chest and around to his shoulders. I drink him in as our bodies fold into each other. He's found me at last and l lose myself in him.

  His hands come around to cradle my face.

  “Enya” he whispers, reverent. I don't open my eyes but I feel him looking at me, studying my face. His fingers start to trace my cheeks down to my smiling lips and I turn my head, kissing the center of his palm. It's like I can read his mind or maybe we're so close we're sharing the same thought, "I can't believe this is real.".

  "If this is a dream, I never want to wake up" he whispers.

  I jolt awake, my head no longer pillowed on top of my arms. It
was a dream. Wasn't it? I look around. I’m at the kitchen table, an acupuncture book spread before me. I fell asleep studying but I don't remember seeing any sparks. I touch my lips. It felt so real. But it must have been a dream.

  I grapple with myself, a yin-yang of emotions circling round and round. I want it to be real, I don't want it to be real. I finally convince myself it's not a premonition, but it's harder to convince myself to let it go.

  When it’s time to meditate, I throw myself into it, hoping for a respite. Any semblance of peace to thwart this need to think of him. But I have no such luck.

  A vision starts of me at high school.

  “Cloverleaf” Jacob shouts and he jogs to catch up. I’m carried with the tide of students getting out of school, deaf to his shout by the noise around me. He reaches me and snags my arm. “Are you okay? Was Aiden bothering you?” He’s still shouting, and panting now as he waits for my reply.

  I remember this conversation. I remember my reply as I hear myself say it, "Nah, he just wanted to ask me to prom." I look around realizing this is not the proper place for this conversation and tug him over to the shelter of a wall. I hike my bag higher on my shoulder. I remember having extra books for some reason. I remember thinking at this moment about how it was going to be a long walk home.

  “Well? What did you say?” Seeing it now, I notice how he’s crowding me. Like he’s protecting me from the crowd and at the same time, making himself vulnerable to me. I cringe as I remember my answer.

  “Oh my god Jacob, the drama! You’ve got to stop listening to so much Taylor. It’s putting too much romance in your head. It’s just a dance. One I’m not going to, by the way.”

  I missed the look on his face before, but I see it now. Crestfallen.

  “I get it. I just thought, since your dad died and you missed it last year, maybe you’d see this as a chance to celebrate. Your last chance to have a Prom. That maybe it would be something your dad would want you to do. To be happy.”