by Mark Tiro
“The truth about myself?”
“The truth about yourself is that you remain exactly as you always were.”
“Which is?”
“Pristinely unchanged in reality from the Perfect Love that created you and knows you only as perfect love, no different than It knows Itself.”
“Well, I sure don’t feel very perfect. Or like perfect love, either.”
“You’re feeling that way because you’re thinking with your conscious mind. For that matter, you’re making wishes on your list from your conscious mind. But that’s only the smallest fraction of your mind. It’d be best if you didn’t try to add anything to that list of yours until you’ve gone back to the source of the problem.”
“Which is? Because the only problem I know of is that this list keeps screwing everything up.”
“Maya?”
“What!”
“Look on what you’ve forgotten. Go back to the source in your mind, to what you’ve denied. Go back and just look at what you’ve denied. These are the unconscious things we’ve all sworn never to look at. Do that first, and don’t worry about the list.”
“But I haven’t denied anything!” I snapped. “Stop telling me what I have and haven’t done! It’s this stupid list! If it would just stop screwing up, everything would be fine.”
The thought popped into my mind that maybe it was time for me to go back home, but that would just mean school, and homework, and having to sit there while Angel and Steve probably made out or something.
Just… no.
I pulled out the pad. Then I pulled out the pen and wrote #6 where it opened. Then next to that, I wrote, “Just be friends with Steve.”
A thought of Angel crossed my mind, and I was still mad at her. So I quickly added, “And Angel can go to hell!”
That was it. I lifted the pen off the pad, and—poof! I was gone.
12
Twelve
I opened my eyes to find myself in probably the second-most familiar place in my life… though it definitely wasn’t even close to being my second favorite.
Yup. I was back there.
In school.
I looked around a minute to get my bearings and gather my thoughts. Sure enough, it was just a regular school day, just like any other. I remembered the list and smiled. At least the list saved me from my daily experience of semi-torture… which is, of course, having to ride the bus to school in the morning.
At least there was that.
I looked down at my phone and realized I had about a minute to get to class. I slung my backpack up around both shoulders, and got moving towards the classroom.
I got there surprisingly quickly, somehow. Everyone was still talking when I slumped down into my chair. I took out my tablet and opened up the textbook on it to where I’d remembered leaving off. Then I pulled out my laptop so I could take notes if the teacher said we had to.
And then I looked around.
Sure—everything seemed normal. Still, I just wanted to make sure that the last thing I’d written on my list hadn’t done something else crazy this time.
Steve was sitting in his usual chair, just where I’d expected—or at the very least hoped—I’d see him. Even with him having, you know… done that thing with Angel and all—well, it was still a relief to see him sitting there, after all the crazy things that had happened to me because of this list.
After I saw him, I turned to look for Angel. She wasn’t in her usual seat, and so I swiveled my head around, scanning the room to see if she was sitting somewhere else. She wasn’t, and I’d just opened my mouth to ask the girl sitting next to me who I’d known since kindergarten where Angel was when the teacher stood up and started talking.
“Everyone, can you pull up your textbooks to where we left off?” she said. As everyone did, she motioned to the girl sitting in what I swore had been Angel’s seat ever since school had started that year (except for that one day with the sub, of course…).
That girl stood up as the teacher called her name. I think it may have been ‘Alex’ or some such thing, but I’m not sure now. Anyway, she gave the teacher one of those popular-girl smiles I could never seem to manage. I’d always felt so awkward whenever I smiled. I guess I should call her, or at least think of her as Alex until I figured her actual name.
At the teacher’s prompting, the girl introduced herself. (Yes! Alex it is!) And just like that, I discovered—Angel was gone.
I found out later that the girl, this Alex girl, had moved into Angel’s house, of all things. Angel and her whole family—they had all moved away.
“And if anyone’s wondering,” Alex said after the teacher finished with the introduction, “Angel says ‘hi’. Her family’s moved, but she’s my cousin. My family moved into their house. It’s only been a few days so far, but everyone has just been so kind to me. And nice.”
I didn’t like this Alex girl already. It wasn’t easy, but I forced myself to turn to Steve and whispered to him, “Is she chirping? Is this for real?”
Steve looked back at me, and… wait. I was comfortable. I noticed how easy it was to talk to him today. My heart didn’t go in my throat like it always does when I talk to him. That’s weird, I thought. I always get so nervous. Now I’m not nervous at all. Something’s off, I started to think, before part of me rushed into this conversation in my brain to shut it down.
‘So you’re not nervous now,’ I told myself. ‘Good. Now shut up and just act cool so he doesn’t figure out you’re not good enough. You’re finally normal. Just go with it for once.’ I was full-on berating myself, and I knew it. It’s not that I didn’t care. It’s just that—I couldn’t help it.
“I know,” Steve said. He was looking at me, talking to me, like we were best friends now. He was… chatty. “She is so perfect,” he grinned, “it makes me sick.” This was weird. I could talk to him now—and easily, too. I couldn’t quite figure out where he was going with whatever he was saying, but the teacher had already moved on to the lesson, and so I’d have to figure it out later.
Later came once class was done, and we were all shoving our things back into our backpacks so we could make that mad dash to our next class.
It was then that Alex came over to me. “I know you and Angel were so close,” she started. For a minute, I wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic, or maybe she just didn’t know about what’d happened with her and me and… him. She smiled at me, and then whispered in my ear— just quietly enough to make me uncomfortable. “You don’t have to miss her, Maya. You’ll be seeing Angel soon enough. For now, though, you’ll just have to get used to me.”
Okay, I thought. That really was weird. That’s when she leaned back over, and added, in a whisper, “Nothing personal, you know.” Then she turned and walked out.
It took me a minute to try to figure out where this was going. I turned to Steve, who was still there next to me, and who had heard everything.
“I guess she’s the new Queen Bitch in school,” he said after Alex had left the room. “Don’t worry, honey. She ain’t got nothing on me.”
This is all just weird, I thought.
“Can you believe how rude of her, pushing her weight around on her first day?” Steve went on, smiling now. Then he added, “And that smile? Sooooo fake, I do not know how anyone could not just see through that.”
Then he pulled me into a hug before he turned around and headed out the door, rushing off to his next class. I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door behind him.
The next shoe dropped as I rounded the corner of the hall to get to my next classroom. Steve’s locker was there too, not far from mine. I usually avoided stopping at my locker if I could because there was hardly any time between classes. I had so much stuff in my backpack that it’d take me forever to get to anything and then reorganize the mess with enough time left over to make it to my next class before the bell.
But Steve had stopped at his locker.
Steve had stopped, and he was standing
there talking with a guy I had seen around but didn’t have any classes with, and so I didn’t know his name.
They were both holding hands… with each other, and then Steve leaned over and gave him a kiss. On the lips. It was a small kiss, to be sure. I mean—there was only so much time between classes, right? As he was saying goodbye to the other boy, Steve noticed me standing there, and he came over to me.
“How’s my best girl?” he asked. “John and I are baking over at my house on Friday night. Would you like to come over? My mom brought home this fabulous book of French pastries and, well, I know it’s going to be tough to pull even one of them off, but you can’t blame a boy for trying, right?”
“Uh, I… well, I don’t think my parents would let me come over to a boy’s house on a Friday night,” I stuttered.
“What? You never told me that before. Anyway—it’s not just a boy’s house, silly. It’ll be a bunch of us boys, if you know what I mean. It’s a baking evening. I mean, I can’t totally say for sure what will happen. You know if can get really hot in the kitchen.” He winked, then threw back his head and laughed. “But if you’re there, Maya, I promise I’ll do my best to keep everyone on their best behaviour—at least until after the soufflés have risen. Nothing gets crazy until after the girls go, anyway—and I promise my soufflés are better than sex.” Then he laughed again.
“I thought you’ve never made…”
“Well, it’s chocolate. Rich, decadent chocolate. In my book you can’t mess that up too bad—though don’t let John know I said that. He can be so snooty sometimes about his pastries.”
“You’re… you’re… gay?” I stammered.
“Well, hello? We’ve been best friends for what?”
“Since junior high?” I ventured as the answer popped into my head. I don’t know where the answer came from, but it seemed like we had, though it also seemed like it was coming from some other alternate universe.
“And that’s like 20 years in old people time. So don’t go all red-state on me then. You know John and I have our ups and downs, but we’ve been together forever now, since last spring, and so…”
“But you’re… gay?” I said, mostly as an answer to my own question. Obviously, he was.
“Have you hit your head, Maya? What’s wrong with you? We’ll find someone for you. It’ll be your time soon. I’ve been looking for you, anyway. And so has John. It’s just that—” and here, he grinned again, “most boys we know don’t, you know—like girls. I don’t really have an ‘in’ with the jock crowd, if you know what I mean, but that doesn’t mean we’re not working on it for you.”
“I… just… no, I’m sorry, Steve. It’s just, every time I write something down in my list, weird stuff happens, and then when I come back, everything’s all different. Like I’ve come back to some parallel universe where it all looks the same… but not quite.”
“What are you talking about, Maya? What list? Are you messing with me? Because if you are, I might just have to add a little something special to that soufflé I’m going to bake for you.”
“Sorry, Steve. I’ve had a rough few days.”
“Well, it can’t be that rough if Angel is gone. You both used to be such good friends, too, but lately, I just can’t figure out what’s come between you two. But I know something has, because she was just being so bitchy to you lately.”
“She was?” I ventured, before repeating it more firmly. “She was. Yes, she was. But she’s gone now.” Then I added a “thank God” to try to sound convincing.
“Damn straight, girl! But be nice. Don’t forget that. You’ve always been such a super sweetie, Maya—so I hope that never changes about you.
I decided I had so much to think about that I’d take the long way and walk home again that afternoon from school. ‘That list!’ was the first thing I thought once I started walking. Again! Steve and I are just friends now, I thought—best friends. And that’s what I wished for on my list. That’s what I wrote! But now… he’s gay! That… that… list! I mean, sure—I guess I’d asked for us to just be friends, but… really?
Then my thoughts turned to Angel. If what her cousin Alex had said in class today was true, I didn’t think I’d be seeing much of Angel anymore. I considered this, and Steve had seemed really, really happy, so I guess this was an improvement I could live with. Angel crossed my mind for a second too, and I wondered what had happened to her. I mean—she was gone, and for me now, that was good enough. But still, I wondered, with how much Steve had changed—what had happened to Angel?
Almost the instant I had this thought, two cars turned the corner much too fast. I could hear the sound of tires screeching as they made the turn. It looked like they were racing each other.
Instinctively I jumped back from the sidewalk when I heard the screeching, but I tripped and fell backwards. The last thing I heard as I fell down was more screeching. And then my head hit the ground and everything went dark.
13
Thirteen
It didn’t stay dark for long. At least I don’t think it did. I came to in the hospital bed.
“What happened?” I asked when I saw the doctor come in for her rounds to check on me. She was dressed head-to-toe in scrubs, and her face was almost completely covered like she was prepped for surgery. Behind her were more residents than could fit in the room. And all of them—every last one of these residents—they were all men. They were all standing around her, pushing up glasses and staring at tablets and so on. But their glasses all seemed to be stage props, like the kind you’d see a male model wearing in a magazine photo spread. And, unlike the doctor, none of them were dressed in scrubs, or in anything even close to it. As I looked closer, I first started to notice what all these residents were—and weren’t—wearing. Then for some reason, I looked down and noticed the doctor’s hands. As she was reached towards my head to examine me now, even though she was completely covered in surgical scrubs from head to toe, I saw her hands. Unlike the rest of her—they were uncovered.
Those fingernails! I’d recognize those fingernails anywhere. And those… hands, too! To make sure, though, I looked back up towards the doctor’s face, staring at the only part of it that was visible beneath the surgical mask.
Her eyes.
“Angel!” I blurted out.
She pulled down her surgical mask so I could see the rest of her face. Then she shot me a mischievous wink and put a finger to her lips. Is that full-on makeup she’s wearing? I wondered. It looks like an awesome makeover, but… wait? Why would she have gotten a makeover before operating on me? And wait—Angel? What’s she doing here? What’s going on? And then, the most obvious thought occurred to me.
“Wait, Angel. You’re not a doctor! Are you about to operate on me?” I started to panic.
“Doctor?” she answered, cutting me off with another mischievous look. She glanced over her shoulder at the men behind her, then leaned back over to me and whispered, “Yeah—I know. But don’t tell them that. They wanted their doctor fantasy, and this is the most I was willing to do for them.”
“‘Doctor fantasy’? Wait, what?”
“You don’t get it?” Angel interrupted, as if she’d been reading my thoughts. “I can explain. But really—think about it, Maya, and you’ll figure it out. I mean, you always were the smart one between us. You did this. You know that, right?”
“What did I do? I fell and hit my head, I think. I hope those cars didn’t run over me, but honestly, I don’t remember very much after the fall….”
She took one fabulously manicured fingernail and pressed it up against my lips. Not quite a gesture to shush me, but almost. Actually, it seemed almost… what?
“Sensual? Is that what you’re thinking?” she interrupted. “Oh, God no. Not here—though we should get moving. We don’t want to be late,” she said as she reached her hand over to help me up off of the bed.
“But I… I don’t have any clothes on,” I protested. “Just this hospital gown.”
&n
bsp; “Where we’re going, you’re don’t need clothes,” she said.
This is too much, I thought. First Steve, now Angel….
She snapped around with what seemed like the most overdramatic flair. As she did, the whole place dissolved. Then she reached around, grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into the dark void.
I was spinning now, falling, floating. Everywhere and nowhere. It was all too much, and I closed my eyes. Either that, or I passed out. Either way, whatever this was, I did not want to see it.
At some point, I peeked my eyes open and took a look around.
I was definitely not in the hospital room now. And Angel was definitely not dressed as a doctor now.
The first thing I noticed were the cluster of gaudy but plush chaise lounges scattered about what looked like the kind of nightclub you’d see in movies.
Actually, no. That wasn’t the first thing I’d noticed. The first thing that I noticed was all the men lying around on the chaise lounges. None of them had much of any clothes on, and at least half of them were either glistening with the kind of sweat that also seemed like the kind you’d see in a photo shoot on a model in a magazine. These were the same men who I’d assumed were residents making the medical rounds in the hospital when I’d assumed Angel was a doctor.
