The Voice in My Head

by Dana L. Davis

  She struggles into the chair.

  I tear the sheets off the bed and check the mattress. “All good. Didn’t seep through. No worries.”

  I toss everything into a corner. “I’ll throw these in the wash but let’s get you in the bath.”

  “You’re okay with seeing my naked body?”

  “I see mine every day. It’s the same body.”

  “Yeah, but I’m all pale and bloated and...covered in blood. Plus, I haven’t shaved my legs in over a month.”

  “Same body. Same blood. Same hairy legs. And what’s my excuse? We’ll get you squeaky clean and then I’ll French braid your hair.”

  “Indigo.” She grabs both my hands. “I’m dying.”

  Her words send a shiver up my spine. “No. Don’t say that. Today you’ll live. The Voice promised. A little longer. Hold on a little longer, Violet. Please.”

  “Is it okay that I’m scared?”

  “I’ll be brave for you. I’ll be brave for the both of us.”

  * * *

  When the family moves outside to load up onto the bus, it’s still dark outside. Pretty much everyone is half-asleep. But one thing that’s certainly changed for the better—Pastor. He’s back to his old, cheerful, enlightened self. Dressed in a Nike warm-up suit with Birkenstock sandals, holding his signature bottle of Trader Joe’s olive oil.

  “Goooood morning and what a glorious morning it is.” He whispers so as not to wake Sandi and Bob or the rabbits or whatever other creatures live out here in no-man’s-land. He greets us all with a dollop of oil. When he slathers it on my forehead, I don’t even wipe it away.

  “I’m so glad you’re better, Pastor.”

  “Never push away an opportunity for growth, Indigo.”

  “Even if it’s painful?” I ask.

  He pats my back. “Especially if it’s painful.”

  Violet’s wheelchair is situated on the lift. I try to rush onto the bus to be the one to help her down the aisle, but Michelle steps in front of me.

  “Hey,” I say breathlessly.

  “I overslept.” Michelle yawns. “How was Violet’s night?”

  “Great,” I lie. “She slept super good.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. Barely even moved.” I reach into my bag and hand her the notepad she gave to me. “I wrote down all the O2 sat numbers like you told me to. It was all good.”

  “Wow.” Michelle breathes a sigh of relief. “Gotta be honest. It was nice to get a good night’s sleep. Thank you.”

  Thank me? Say what? “Oh. Um. Yeah. No doubt.”

  “I feel like I owe you guys an apology.”

  I tap my foot anxiously. What if Dad’s helping Violet to her seat? What if he feels her body trembling? Sees how cold she is. Notices her swollen abdomen.

  “So let me say it. I’m sorry, Indigo. I’ve been a pill this whole trip, haven’t I?”

  I want to reply by yelling, You’ve been a pill my whole life, Michelle! Instead I say, “I’ve probably been a pill this whole trip, too.”

  Michelle doesn’t argue with that. She rubs her belly. Somehow it looks bigger than it did yesterday. “Maybe I have an issue with not leading.”

  Maybe?

  “Can I explain something to you, Indigo?”

  “I guess. Sure.”

  “Every family has a leader. It’s just the way it is.”

  “And you’re ours?”

  “It’s always felt that way.” She sighs. “I was fifteen when you and Vee were born. Mom needed me. Relied on me. So after undergrad, when I got accepted into medical school and—”

  “Wait. You got accepted into medical school?”

  She nods. The light in her eyes dims. “At the time you and Vee were only seven. Alfred was five. The school was on the East Coast. I couldn’t have imagined leaving my family. I wasn’t ready.”

  Michelle passed up on medical school? For us? My stomach sours as guilt rushes in.

  “But I’ve always wondered what if, you know. What if?” She forces her hands through her straightened strands of hair. “I went to see a psychic a few years back. Wanna know what she said?”

  My brow furrows. “Uh...that psychics aren’t real?”

  “Indi, stop it.” Michelle slaps me on my noninjured shoulder and laughs. “She said that I was the leader of my whole family. But—” she swallows “—that I had a little sister creeping up at my heels destined to take my place.”

  “Wait... What?” I look her dead in the eye. “A psychic told you that?”

  “It made me so mad!” Michelle laughs again. “Mostly because I knew without a doubt she was talking about you.” Michelle crosses her arms under her chest. “And you know what? I’m okay with it. I’m good with you leading. Finally. I guess.” She shrugs. “Funny thing. I actually woke up this morning, and for the first time, I thought...” She leans forward and whispers, “What if this works? What if it works?” Her eyes are sparkling in the night with hope and anticipation.

  It’s not often I see this side of Michelle. So since I don’t know what to say, I lurch forward and hug her. It’s literally the first time I’ve ever hugged Michelle. “Namaste, Michelle.” I pull away and run onto the bus before she can say another word. Dad is helping Violet stand.

  “No, Dad!” I rush down the aisle and slide in front of him. “I got this.”

  Dad raises his hands and steps aside. “All right, then. You got it.”

  I allow her to rest her arm around my shoulder and we move down the aisle together. Once she’s situated in her seat, I sit beside her. Like a guard. Like Gandalf, I will not let anyone pass. She’s safe with me beside her. Once the rest of the family is loaded up, we take off into the dark morning.

  After a quick stop for breakfast at a fast-food chain about a half hour outside of Hodell, the drive to the visitor’s station is pretty quiet. Since we had to get up so early, everyone has fallen back to sleep, including Violet. Even as the sun begins to peek up over the mountains, no one really stirs. Pastor Jedidiah seems thrilled to be back at the wheel. He whistles a happy tune.

  I stare up at the ceiling and whisper.

  “Are you there?”

  There’s no response.

  “Kinda rude, don’t you think? To bail on me like this.”

  Nothing.

  I peek out the window. On the horizon, the orange sun infuses light into the gray dawn. It’s breathtaking.

  “I’m a no-good loser,” I say tauntingly. “See? I’m self-deprecating. Don’t you wanna call me a name, like Selfina Depricioso or something? C’mon, Voice. Talk to me. Please.”

  Nothing.

  I lean my head back and stare up at the eye on the ceiling.

  “How you feeling, Indigo?” Pastor asks, speaking softly so as not to wake anyone.

  I lean forward. “I don’t know. Tired. Scared. Crappy. How are you?”

  “Feel amazing.” He sings. “Glorious day to be alive.”

  “How come you’re always so positive, Pastor? Do you ever get mad and scream or complain? Michelle said you passed six stones. I saw them. It looked crazy. That kinda thing would usually make a person complain.”

  “Oh, I used to be a big complainer, Indigo. Had my own business. Lived in New York City. Made millions of dollars. Complaining was a way of life. The only sort of life I knew.”

  “A millionaire? Get out. So did you lose your money in the stock market or something?”

  “I was diagnosed with a very rare and aggressive form of cancer when I was thirty-seven. Given six months to live. So I sold my business, sold my fancy penthouse apartment. Gave away almost everything I owned. And donated my money to various charities. All of it.”

  “Wow. Every penny?”

  “Every cent.”

  “Why did you do it all? Because you were dying?
”

  “Not because I was dying. Because I wanted to try living. Indigo, I’d spent decades trying to outdo everybody. And with a word from the doctor, realized that in my efforts to win, I’d been losing in the worst way imaginable. Somehow that doctor telling me my life was about to be over made me realize that there’s only one way to win in the game of life.”

  I lean forward, eager for the answer. “How do you win in the game of life?”

  “You stop playing.”

  “But then what do you do?”

  “Find out what makes you happy. Then do that. Experience that.”

  I frown. “That’s impossible. There are so many things we have to do that don’t make us happy. Like school or... I dunno...laundry. Healthy eating. Working. Nobody can spend all day doing what makes them happy.”

  “Being happy is vastly different from pursuing what makes you happy. You can pursue what makes you happy for the rest of your life.”

  I think of Violet and my heart aches. “But, Pastor, what happens when what makes you happy, you can’t have it anymore. Like, I dunno, a professional ball player who gets a permanent injury and can’t play the sport he or she loves. A singer who can no longer sing.”

  “Or a twin without her twin?”

  A lump rises in my throat. “Yeah. What happens then?”

  “I think...” He pauses. “In a true pursuit of happiness, you understand that there are infinite paths to happiness. Today, what makes me happy is driving down this deserted road, talking to you, Indigo. I’m intensely happy. But tomorrow, we won’t have this moment. Next week you’ll be back in school. I’ll be back at work. You see? Just because the moment flees from us, doesn’t take it away. We keep it forever. Think of life like a jar and happiness like pieces of candy. We’re filling up the jar. To infinity and beyond.”

  “So a true pursuit of happiness...”

  “Is ever changing. Ever expanding.”

  We turn off a main highway and start down a dirt road. It seems like we’re heading even deeper into the middle of nowhere. As if that were possible. I wonder what made the settlers keep going. If I were traveling in a covered wagon and saw all this nothing, I woulda definitely turned to the family and been like, We’ve reached the end of the road, guys. Let’s go back.

  “Wanna know a secret I’ve been keeping from you, Indigo?”

  “What’s that, Pastor?”

  “God talks to me, too.”

  “Wait... You actually hear the voice of God? Like, God speaks to you?”

  “As clear as I can hear you.”

  “Does he sound like Dave Chappelle?”

  “Ellen DeGeneres.”

  “Get out.”

  “I kid you not. You know, I think God sounds the way you need her to sound.”

  “What did the voice say to you? The first time you heard it, I mean.”

  “She asked me a simple question. ‘What would make you happy, Jedidiah?’”

  “And what did you say?”

  “I said I didn’t know. But I was desperate to find out. I did have a clear picture of what didn’t make me happy. Which is why I got rid of most everything I owned. That first night, after the apartment was sold and the bank accounts were empty, I remember feeling scared. It was the first time I’d felt anything in so long. It was exhilarating. I decided I wanted to share what I was learning from the voice of God. So I borrowed a camera from a friend and started an online church. The Church of Love and Light. I talked and talked. I talked so much, I forgot I was supposed to be dying. And when I went back to the doctor, the cancer was gone. They couldn’t explain it.”

  I’m enraptured with every word he speaks, sitting so far on the edge of my seat, I fear I might fall off and spill onto the floor, but the bus is so loud and rumbly and I don’t want to miss a word.

  “The physical church was born soon after. The New Faith International Church of Love and Light. We’ve since gone global. Opened churches in seven different countries.”

  “You’re a megachurch.”

  “But we never ask for money. It’s the New Faith way, and yet it still pours in. You know we get over twenty million dollars a year in donations.”

  “That means you’re a millionaire again.”

  “My cause brings in millions, but I only take a small salary.”

  “How much?”

  He keeps one hand on the wheel and makes a zero sign with the other. “I take nothing.”

  “You’ve gotta eat and have a place to live, right?” Although I imagine the megachurch has some rooms he and his wife could crash in.

  “I work. In addition to my work as the church pastor, my wife and I have our own website. We make jewelry with crystals and stones. And we’re both certified Reiki therapists. It’s our family business and our only source of income. We own a one-bedroom houseboat right on the Fremont Canal. Take public transportation. We live a simple life. We like it that way.”

  “You’re fascinating, Pastor Jed.”

  “That’s what God’s always telling me.” He chuckles.

  chapter sixteen

  We’re just outside of the station. The family starts waking one by one.

  Mom looks out the window. “Well, isn’t this beautiful.”

  “If you’re into that sort of middle-of-nowhere beauty.” Dad yawns.

  Mom’s phone rings. “I can’t believe a call got through.”

  “Mom, it’s Utah, not outer space,” Michelle chides her.

  “Tell that to Verizon, Michelle, because I have zero bars.” Mom studies the screen on her phone. “Oh, Alfred, it’s your school.”

  Holy shitballs. I twist around to look at Alfred sitting by himself. We exchange horrified looks.

  Mom slides her finger across her screen. “Hello? Hello?” Mom says again. “Sorry? I can’t hear you. Service isn’t so good right now. Can I call you back when we—” Mom sighs. “I lost them. Isaiah, you called the school and told them Alfred would be out for a couple of days, right?”

  “No. Alfred told me you did it.”

  Mom turns to Alfred. “Alfred, why did you tell your father that, when you told me he called them?”

  “My bad,” Alfred mumbles, scratching under his hat like he’s got fleas. “I thought... I—I guess I got confused.”

  “You got confused?” Dad shakes his head. “What else is new? School probably thinks you’re truant.”

  “Like I don’t have enough on my plate,” Mom mutters. “I’ll call them as soon as I get service again.”

  Good God, I hope she never gets service.

  Violet stirs. I turn to her as she’s rubbing her eyes and sitting up. “How you feeling?” I ask it even though it’s the question I’m constantly bombarded with. A question that if you answer it honestly, people run from you. A question I loathe.

  She gives me a thumbs-up. Which is basically her nice way of saying, I feel like shit, Indigo, but I don’t wanna be negative. I give her a thumbs-up in response, which is basically my nice way of saying, Hey, I’m sorry you feel like shit, but we’re almost at the Wave, so hold tight, sis.

  Pastor Jedidiah picks up the mic. “Ladies and gentle ladies. We are moments from the visitor center in Kanab, where we will enter a lottery to hike the Wave. It’s been quite a journey to get this far. I’ve felt blessed every step of the way. I hope you all feel the same.”

  When he hangs up the mic, my stomach turns, churns, bubbles and all synonyms for: things your stomach does when you’re in a panic. I know we have a hiking wheelchair but will there be hills to climb? Rough turns? Cliffs? Tight sections of the trail too narrow for a chair? Will it be snowy? Rainy? I’ve always wondered what people mean when they say their life flashed before their eyes. How could years and years of information be observed in a second? But now I get it, because every possible thing that could maybe go wrong on or be
fore this hike flashes before mine.

  My and Violet’s twin powers have been reactivated because she knows what I’m thinking. She squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry,” she whispers. “We’ll win. Our number will be called. Everything will work out. I believe it.”

  Pastor turns the bus into a gravel parking lot already half filled up with cars, RVs, vans and trucks. This many people showed up on a random Wednesday, desperate for a chance to take a freakin’ hike?

  After we park, Dad and Mom look over at me. Do they want me to say a word? I don’t have The Voice to guide me along the way. Although, now that I think about it, the last time he guided a word, it was a bit of a disaster.

  I stand, facing the family.

  Brandon and Nam are huddled together in a seat with Drew, staring up at me as if I don’t belong in a straitjacket, but am a clever and magnificent soul who possesses all answers to making this work.

  Alfred applies ChapStick.

  Michelle looks...hopeful.

  Mom and Dad hold hands.

  Pastor scoots in beside Michelle and smiles.

  Violet nods in support.

  “I really want to thank you all for trusting me and taking this journey across the country with me. It means...” I clear my throat. “It means a lot. That you’re here. That we’re all here. For Violet.” I look at Mom and smile. She smiles back. “That’s all I wanted to say. I’m gonna run in ahead of everyone and put our name on the list.”

  “What does God say?” Brandon asks. “Like...will we win?”

  I chew the dead skin around my thumbnail. The Voice did say he’s super psychic. He said to get to the Wave and those permits to hike were as good as ours. In fact, easy peasy lemon squeezy were his exact words. “The Voice promised me Violet would live. I believe him. See you guys in a second.”

  Pastor Jedidiah opens the bus doors and I rush off.

  * * *

  The visitor center is pretty basic and bland as far as offices in the middle of nowhere go. When I walk through the door, people are crowded around, sipping on cups of coffee or chatting in corners. It’s a small and cluttered space with lots of old posters tacked to particle board hammered to painted walls.