by Lisa Bunker
“Uh … yeah, thanks.”
“Malcolm told me you’re a friend of his. You guys known each other long?”
My first impulse is to lie, but vo is smiling so nicely, and also, I still have the feeling of whatever happens happens, so I say, “Oh, you know, about … What time is it?”
“Almost noon.”
“About six hours.”
Vo snorts. “I thought maybe. What’s your name?”
“Felix.” And I’m thinking, OK, a name, now I’ll know.
“Hey, Felix. I’m Cam. Welcome to the House on Harmony Street.”
Cam. Gah. But, you know, living with Grandy, I’ve learned that, girl, boy, it doesn’t matter, so I just say, “Thanks.”
Cam seems to think for a second, looking at me, then starts to say, “You’re awfully young, aren’t you …” but at this point one of the other doors opens and a new guy stumbles out, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. It’s dark in the room behind him, like if there’s a window, the shade is down. His hair is rumpled and his eyes are still mostly closed. Cam does introductions, and Steven, is his name, shuffles into the bathroom. Then Cam asks if I’m hungry, and I say, yes, I am, so I follow ven into the kitchen, and vo sets us both up with cheese sandwiches and juice. There’s a little table with a chair and a stool, so we sit at that to eat, and Cam talks about veir work, which is some kind of extreme cleaning job, getting into the crawl spaces under houses and stuff.
After a bit Steven comes in, dressed and looking more awake, and makes food for himself. He enters into the conversation, and one of the first things he says is, So, what do you play? Which catches me off guard, so I stare at him, and he says, Music, what instrument do you play? Like, everyone should. So I say, Guitar, a little, wondering when is the last time I actually touched it. That’s cool, he says, so like, folk, rock, classical, jazz? Rock, I guess, I say. That’s cool, he says again, but you do need to check out jazz, and immediately he goes into his room and comes back out with a saxophone. He plays a little run, to warm up, I guess, and then he starts tapping his foot and closes his eyes and kinda curls his body around the saxophone and plays this jumpy funky song, and when he gets to the end he goes back in and changes it all around and makes it amazing, and I can tell Zyx likes it too, because I start twitching and flailing jazz pretty
Yeah, jazz pretty. You’ve been awfully quiet today, I suddenly notice.
yes quiet watch listen be
Right. You still don’t get it, do you? If I don’t go back, we’re both gonna die. Or at least I am, and if you’re not, you’re going to be melded with a dead human, which, yuck. Although, maybe that’s where zombies come from.
die not die all same jazz chess sing dance pretty now now now
Yeah, could you put a lid on it, please? I’ve got some story left to tell here. After that, I tell you what, I’ll let you type whatever you want. OK? We’ve never done that before. I’ll just sit back and empty my mind and give you my hands, and you can type whatever you want.
yes
OK, thanks. You gonna be quiet now?
…
OK.
Anyway, by now I’m feeling really safe with these people, so when Cam starts asking me questions I answer them, and pretty soon vo knows how old I am and where I live, and then vo says, “Malcolm said you ran away.”
“Uh-huh, yeah, I did.”
“Things bad at home?”
I drop my eyes and start twisting and twitching. Sometimes that’s not Zyx, sometimes it’s just me being me.
“Who you got at home?”
That’s easier. “My sister, Bea, and my mom, and Grandy.”
“Grandy?” says Steven.
“Uh, my grandparent … vo switches back and forth between—”
“‘Vo’?”
“Uh, yeah, that’s a word Grandy made up … a pronoun, right? For when you don’t know whether someone is, uh … male or female … like you,” I say, looking at Cam, and then I realize what I’ve said and my face goes hot and I drop my eyes again.
There’s a little silence, and then Steven and Cam both laugh—nice laughs, though. Cam says, “Kid, you’re all right. Vo, huh? I’ve never heard that one before. But I do use he and him. I’m trans. You know, identified as female at birth, but—”
“Oh. OK,” I say, and Cam nods with approval, like I just scored a point by being cool about that. But it’s easy, ’cause of Grandy.
Then I’m kinda hoping Cam has forgotten what he (I can say now) was asking, but he hasn’t. “So, Bea and Mom and Grandy,” he says. “You guys get along OK?”
Well, that makes me want to cry. In fact, I want to cry so bad, I do. One burst of a sob, and then quieter tears that I can’t hold back.
“Dude,” says Steven, and when I look at him, his face is all sad. “It’s hard to know what to do.”
Cam puts his hand on mine. It’s a small hand, but I don’t think of it like a girl hand now. “You miss them,” he says.
“Yeah.”
“Got my cell in my room. Wanna make a call?”
It’s the same question I’ve been asking myself, and what I realize is, Yeah, I would like to call, except I don’t want to have to explain myself. What I really want to do is go back. I have to go back. So what I say to Cam is, no thanks, I don’t want to call, but I do want to go home.
Then there’s this dumb confused bit about transportation, because I guess nobody in the house owns a car and they feel bad because they can’t instantly drive me back to my doorstep. They’re talking about pitching in to buy me a bus ticket and I’m sitting there feeling like a little kid being talked about by his parents while he’s there in the room, and I realize something obvious—they think I don’t have any money—so I pull out the two twenties and Steven stops in the middle of a sentence and says, “Well, jeez, kid, why didn’t you say so?” Then there’s some quick research on a phone and we find out that there’s one bus a day back to Littlefield, but it has already left for today. Then Cam says I can stay on the couch again until morning, and I almost cry again.
Then I just hang out for the rest of the day. Steven invites me into his room and plays me some jazz on records, real records, big black disks, and Zyx and I both like it, but nobody says anything about the flailing. Then Lauren comes home and there’s pizza, which they won’t let me help pay for. Then Steven goes to play a “gig,” and this other girl Sarah comes by and Lauren goes out with her, and then Cam and I hang out, watching TV for a while, and they’re all just really nice people, but I want my mom.
So now it’s gotten late and the house is quiet. Cam is in his room with the door closed, and I’m lying here thinking about tomorrow. I still know I want to go home, but I don’t know yet what I’m going to do when I get there. But I guess whatever happens happens. This couch is soft and warm, and really OK for the Pose. I think I could sleep.
Awake again.
House quiet. Street quiet. Dark except for light from streetlight.
Something woke me. Not something outside, though. Something inside. Zyx, this feeling I have of … I can’t describe … Is it you?
yes
I feel like I’m being pulled in a direction I don’t understand. What are you doing?
show
What do you mean?
felix say let type but better show life in four never before fear but love more show gift
Um, do I understand right? You want to show me what it’s like where you live?
yes
But, what’s the fear part?
fear hurt felix not fear more safe
You were afraid it would hurt me, so you didn’t do it.
yes
And now somehow you know it is safe? How do you know?
know because done ago
You already did it? You took me there?
yes
When!?
small ago felix sleep
While I was asleep just now. You took me.
yes
You risked my
life?
yes small risk
But still!
felix live
Yes, I’m still alive. And I should be mad. But I’m not. Wow, it’s quiet. I can hear my heart beating. It’s the loudest sound in the room. In the whole world, feels like. No, not mad. Just … stranger than I have ever felt.
question mark
You want to know what I want to do.
yes
All right, then. I don’t care if it’s not safe. I want to know. I’ve always been curious what it’s like where you are. So, how do we do this?
must breathe slow hold still empty mind let open let carry let bring
All right, I’m doing it. I’m going to keep typing as long as i can and what is that like light like air like opening of each part of me into every part of me am felix am zyx am all such light such space such light so fast so still such light three is one is three is one
3 Days to Go
And now it is morning. Full sunlight morning, I mean, though it’s still early and the house is quiet. I’m feeling all safe and warm in the nest of blankets and pillows that Cam and Steven and Lauren made for me. They have been so nice to me. I’m a total stranger, and they took me in and fed me and gave me a place to sleep, and Cam is going to walk me to the bus station in time to catch the bus back to Littlefield. It’s so strange, being alive in the world. I’m glad I’m alive, but it’s so strange.
Zyx, are you there?
yes
Do you want to say anything?
…
Well then, I want to try to describe what happened last night, or earlier this morning, when I woke up and let Zyx … um … do whatever vo did. A field trip to the fourth dimension, I guess.
How to start. Hm.
All right, maybe like this. I used to think about how if I got accidentally merged with some poor two-dimensional creature, I’d have to be careful not to pull it out of its plane into our world, because it would have no thickness. All its insides would be outsides in our space, and I figured it would just fall apart like wet tissue paper. Zyx, would it have maybe been like that for me in your space?
maybe but not
So that was the risk. But you tried, maybe just a tiny bit, I hope, and it was OK.
yes
OK. I guess. I’m still alive, so OK.
So what I felt last night was, Zyx pulled me in a direction I didn’t understand, and it was like every atom I’m made of was growing larger (unless it was smaller) at the same time, but somehow without them squishing each other (or pulling apart). And it kept happening until each atom got so incredibly huge—unless it was so incredibly tiny—that the border between the edges of me and the beginning of everything else went away. And then … um … this is where words really start to seem less useful… .
I’ll try another way. I sort of got the idea … or was the idea … that there is this one thing that Is … an either impossibly small or impossibly large thing—let’s say small, just to say something … a zero-dimensional point, and everything that exists is in this point … No, that’s not right either.
OK, try this. This zero-dimensional point of Is, it’s flying all around space in this incredibly complex pattern, faster than light, faster than thought, and everything that exists is the afterimage of the path it flies, which is like a spiral made of spirals nested in spirals going infinitely down and infinitely up, and then everything that exists is the impossibly beautiful dance of the one Is particle … unless Is is the space it’s dancing in. Nelson, this is hard.
One more try. The one and three thing. There was the one Is, which was either everything or the zero-dimensional-point thing, and then there was the three that was the one Is and the Is Not that it danced through and then the difference between them, and, you know what? I’m done. I can’t explain. But things seem different now.
And, here’s a chat window. I thought I turned that off. Um, it’s Hector.
H: Felix?
F: Yeah, I’m here.
H: How u doin?
F: OK. Which is a way too simple way to say, my life is incredibly strange and scary right now. But, OK.
H: Ok
H: Hey Felix?
F: Yeah?
H: It’s Ok about calling me stupid
F: OK, thanks. I’m really sorry about that.
H: I just get so tired of people seeing me as less than them
F: Yeah. I know what you mean. So again, sorry.
H: Ok
H: You there?
F: Yeah, I’m here. I was just wondering if you know anything about, uh, well …
H: About what?
F: Well, let’s just say, I’m not at home right now.
H: ?
F: I jumped a train. Yesterday. I mean, two days ago now.
H: o.O
F: Yeah.
H: Why?
F: It’s hard to explain. Or, no it’s not. I freaked about the Procedure. You remember I told you about that.
H: Yah
F: I heard my mom say something about how my chances of surviving were lower than she said before, so I ran. Also, there’s some stuff about it that you don’t know.
H: Private stuff
F: Yeah, I guess. Or just so strange I don’t think you’d believe me. But I’m not supposed to tell.
H: It’s cool
H: So where are you?
F: In a house in Portland. The House on Harmony Street, they call it. A guy I met gave me food and showed me where this place is and the people are really nice.
H: No way!
F: Yeah, it does seem unusual now that I think about it.
H: That is all so awesome
F: Uh, thanks, I think.
H: I’m not being sarcastic. It’s truly awesome
F: OK, thanks I’m sure. :-)
H: :)
H: You there?
F: Yeah. Thinking.
H: What are you going to do?
F: That’s what I’m thinking about. I know the next part. I’m getting a bus back to Littlefield this morning. It’s what comes after that I don’t know. I feel bad about what I did, and I’m not sure how to handle going home.
F: You there?
H: Yah. Felix, I have a question
F: What?
H: Would you like it if … I mean …
F: ?
H: I could come meet your bus. If you want
H: You there?
F: Really? You would do that?
H: Yah. You want me to?
F: Yes!
H: Really?
F: Really.
H: Really???
F: Yeah.
H: Cool. Bus from Portland. See you there
F: You’re leaving?
F: Hector?
F: Uh … bye. See you.
Still 3 Days to Go
The House on Harmony Street started to wake up just after I chatted with Hector. Steven and Cam got up at the same time and did this funny thing at the door to the bathroom—No no no, after you my dear Alphonse—and they fed me English muffins with peanut butter for breakfast and still wouldn’t take any of my money. Lauren wasn’t around but that other girl Sarah was, and she had a whole bunch of blond hair streaked with darker streaks and was walking around barefoot in nothing but a cotton T-shirt, and I had to be careful about where I pointed my eyes because I didn’t want to be a jerk.
They let me use the shower, and I brushed my teeth and put on the other set of clothes I brought and felt practically normal, except for the coil of something deep down in the bottom of my stomach. Fear, I guess. But my brain was also still full of the Experience Zyx had given me, so, coils and roils, but I let them happen and kept moving.
Then Cam walks me to the bus station through an almost warm sunny morning—I guess it’s actually finally spring. He’s such a nice guy. He smiles a lot, which is creepy in some people, like you wonder what they’re really up to behind that fakey mask, but with Cam it’s just like he’s happy all the time. On the way he talks and jo
kes and gets me laughing, and that helps, because as we enter the bus station and I buy my ticket, the coils and roils ratchet up. Oh, and the change from my ticket is about seven bucks and when I hold it out to Cam and say awkwardly, “For the pizza and stuff,” he gives me this look like I’ve insulted him, so I shut up and put it away.
Cam hangs with me until the bus pulls up with its hiss of brakes, hiss of doors opening. All I have is my duffel, so I don’t have to stand in the line for putting luggage underneath. I just climb up the steps after giving my ticket to the bus driver. The driver doesn’t hiss—he mumbles.
The bus trip is like being trapped inside a can of air freshener. I ignore the little TVs and watch out the window, which I wish wasn’t tinted. I’m on the left side, so mostly I watch other cars on the turnpike, wondering where they’re going. I’m headed home and maybe going to my death, but maybe to the rest of my life, too. And these people, they’re also all headed toward their deaths or their lives. Each second that goes by, we’re all one second closer to the rest of our lives and our deaths. I wouldn’t call that exactly comforting, but it helps me feel less alone.
When we get off the Littlefield exit, the coils and roils really start to work out down there in my intestines, and I know this is not about death or life or about what the hell am I going to say to my mom. It’s only, Will Hector be there? And what will happen?
He’s there, standing by a post. He’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt and dark glasses, and his face looks closed up. For one second I think about staying on the bus, but then only one other person gets up to get out, and I jump up and clump clump down the stairs and walk over to him.
He puts his dark glasses up on his head, and his face doesn’t look closed anymore. Now it has in it all the things I have seen in him, all at once, little bits of how he can be funny and quiet and mad and happy… . Breathe, Felix! Yeah. So we stand there for a second, looking at each other, and then he gives me this awkward bro hug, shoulder to shoulder, which I give back as much as I can with the duffel knocking around our knees. The cinnamon smell of his hair, plus something more complicated I don’t have a name for, goes straight up through my nose and into my brain. “Hey,” he says, which is good, because without help I would not be able to speak. “Hey,” I say. And then we turn and start walking toward the neighborhood where we both live.
