by Hayes Farley
Now Alex is moving. A train of fluorescent lights overhead. There’s a jolt as they shove his stretcher through a doorway.
A mask is placed over his face. “Alex, I need you to count backwards from one hundred.”
The gas smells funny.
“It’s almost over, little buddy. I love you most.”
“One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven…”
He passes out, aware that his dad is still holding his hand.
****
Alex sits outside on a well-manicured lawn. He smells the grass clippings. He looks up and feels the sun on his face. On days like this, his dad would always tell him that he has his mother’s eyes. Blue like the sky.
He blinks once, twice, and now he’s surrounded by people. Hundreds of people. They sit on foldable metal chairs and most wear black. Alex glances down and sees that he’s wearing his favorite black suit. He blinks again and now he’s looking at an ornate coffin. A preacher stands behind a podium and speaks, but there is no sound.
Someone is holding his right hand. He thinks of his dad and grins and gives a little squeeze. But the hand’s too small. He looks. It’s Eva. She tries to smile but her lips tremble. A tear sparkles in the sunlight as it slides below the edge of her sunglasses.
“I’m so sorry, Alex,” she says.
He feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns and sees Patrick. His eyes are red. Nate sits beside him wearing black aviators. He wipes his nose and nods at Alex.
Alex looks at the coffin. A sick feeling washes over him. His stomach clinches. He feels a tear begin to swell on his cheek. It wobbles and falls and lands with a plop. Paper. He looks down and lets go of Eva’s hand and unrolls his program. “Robert Armstrong, Loving Husband and Father.”
His breathing quickens and his heart beats faster. He feels it reverberate in his ears. Now he overhears two women having a conversation.
“It was the only way.”
“A heart transplant?”
“Yes. The boy was shot. The bullet lodged in his heart.”
“So he died? Right there on the operating table?”
“Yes, so his son could live.”
“Oh dear. And did it work?”
“Why yes. They said it was a miracle. That’s him. Sitting right there. Tall. Handsome. Looks like his mother.”
“Do you know her?”
“Yes. She was a lovely woman. She would’ve been a great mother.”
“What do you mean?”
“Catherine died during childbirth.”
“Oh heavens.”
“I’ll never forget that day. They were both so young. And they were so cute together. So in love. I remember how they went on all kinds of trips…always going out to nice dinners. They just knew how to have fun. And then Catherine got pregnant and they spent those last few months getting ready for the baby. Oh, they were so excited. And then just like that…it was over.”
“I’m—I’m at a loss.”
“Oh, I know. It’s such a tragedy. But you have to look at the silver lining. Robert finally gets to see her again. He loved her so, so much.”
Alex feels faint. His heart’s racing. His dad’s heart. He shudders and his shoulders lurch and his chest heaves. He sobs. Loud, wet sobs. He tastes bile.
His chair falls backwards when he stands. He can barely see through the tears. His feet carry him away from the casket, away from the people trying not to stare.
Alex finds a bathroom and shoves open a stall door and collapses on the tile and vomits. He heaves again and again and again until the only thing falling into the basin are the tears dripping from his face.
Alex pushes away and sits with his back against the partition. He has the urge to see his chest. He has to see his chest. He removes his jacket and yanks off his tie and begins fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. He loses patience and brings his knuckles together and rips it apart.
A huge suture runs down the length of his chest. It looks moist. Like puckering lips.
He closes his eyes and leans his head against the partition. He pictures his dad’s face and passes out.
****
Alex is in the back seat of the Mercedes. He still wears his black suit. His tie is coiled on the floor and his shirt is open. Alex starts to button it but notices that most of the buttons are now missing. He pinches the shirt together as best he can.
“Let me help you with that.”
It’s Eva. Her sunglasses are off and her green eyes are bloodshot. But she’s never looked more beautiful. Her blonde hair seems longer than usual. She’s changed since the funeral and now wears a black skirt hiked up to the middle of her thigh.
Eva unbuckles and slides to the middle seat. “I’m so sorry, Alex.” She takes his left hand and pulls it to her lips and holds it there, slowly kissing up and down his fingers. She places his right hand on her thigh.
“You were very brave, Alex.” She opens his shirt and traces her fingers down either side of his scar and back up again. Up and down. Up and down. Slowly. Seductively. She kisses him. Her lips are wet. And she’s gentle—so gentle.
Alex kisses her back. Her fingers continue up and down his chest. Her tongue moves into his mouth and he finds it with his own. His hand moves up her thigh and he reaches under her skirt. Their breaths come heavy.
Eva kisses him harder. She traces the length of the scar again, but this time her hand keeps traveling down, past his belly button, past his belt buckle. He moans.
They’re both kissing harder. She bites his lower lip. Alex laughs and does the same. He slips his hand all the way under her skirt and finds her panties. Silk. His hand settles on her warm mound and when he massages her body shudders.
She starts to reach for his zipper.
DING-DING-DING
It’s the autopilot. They brace for impact. Nothing happens.
He looks at her and before she can say anything he cups the back of her head and pulls her mouth to his. He releases. He sees her chest heaving, her neck flush. He’s never wanted anything more in his life. His hand moves back into position. So much heat. He edges his fingers under the silk and Eva arches her back.
DING “Your destination is straight ahead,” says the GPS.
They ignore the voice and continue.
DING “Your destination is straight ahead.”
Alex glances up and sees his house.
DING “We have reached your destination.” The car comes to a stop.
WONK…WONK…WONK…
The sound changes to something akin to a warning at a nuclear power plant. He pulls away.
“Why is it doing that?” she says.
“Off!” Alex yells. “Computer, turn it off!”
WONK…WONK…WONK…
“Off! Off!”
He gives up and leans across the driver’s seat and reaches for the console.
WONK…WONK…WONK…WONK…WONK…
11
Version 2.0
WONK…WONK…WONK…WONK…WONK…
“Computer! Turn it off!” Alex grabbed a pillow and covered his face and palmed the fabric over his ears.
wonk…wonk…wonk…
He pushed harder with his hands until the sound of his own panting was amplified in his head and the alarm was no more. He lay like this for a while. Then he became hot. Unbearably hot. Alex tried to move his legs but they wouldn’t budge and he was suddenly gripped by claustrophobia, so he doubled his effort, kicking like a diver scrambling for the surface and only stopping when he was free of the covers and could feel the cool air on his damp skin. He took a deep breath and relaxed, waiting for the fog to dissipate from his mind.
wonk…wonk…wonk…
A wave of understanding washed over him. Alex threw aside his pillow and opened his eyes to a room pulsing with red light. He rolled to his right and ripped his phone from the charger and turned off the alarm. E
verything went dark and silent.
Alex closed his eyes and tried to return to that back seat but it was no good. He was too awake and too hungry and had too much of a headache. He knuckled the sleep from his eyes and grabbed his phone. 10:00 a.m. He had slept for nearly twenty-four hours. He flipped the phone to the floor and stared at the ceiling. Then he got out of bed and stripped out of his boxers and grabbed a towel and shuffled down the hall and into the bathroom and took a shower. Thirty minutes later, he was out the door and sitting on Hope Hall’s front steps. He pulled out his phone.
“Well if it isn’t my long lost son!”
“Hey, Dad.”
Mr. Armstrong paused. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh—nothing.”
“Alex?”
“Well it’s just—I just woke up.”
“Alex, what’s wrong?”
He downed an energy shot and pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes and tried to chase away his headache. “Dad, I uh—I need to tell you something.” His dad stayed silent. “This school—Pal Tech…it’s not a normal school.”
“What do you mean? Cause it’s so small?”
“No sir. Not that. Well, sort of, I guess.” Alex looked around and made sure he was alone. “Dad, the reason it’s so small is because it’s a school for people with telekinesis. Telekins, is what they call us.”
“You sure you’re all right? They probably have a nurse right there on campus. Why don’t you go check yourself in?”
“Dad!”
“Well, you’re not makin any sense.”
“I am making sense, it’s just…it’s just weird.”
There was a long pause and then Mr. Armstrong said: “What was that word you used? Telekins?”
“Yes sir. It’s just another way of saying we’re telekinetic.”
“And that’s everyone at the school?”
“I think so.”
“And you’re bein serious right now?”
“Yes sir.”
“Cause if you’re makin stuff up—”
“I’m serious.”
A longer pause. “Alex, it sounds like you’re talkin about the X-Men. Are you tellin me you guys are like the X-Men?”
Alex laughed. “Pretty much. Except we don’t have claws and we’re not shooting lasers out of our eyes.”
“Well that’s good. Although I’m sure lasers woulda been fun.”
Alex laughed again.
Mr. Armstrong sighed. “You promise you’re not pullin my leg?”
“Yes sir, I promise. I know how strange it sounds, but it’s all true.”
“Are you readin my mind right now?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. You’re thinking of Professor Xavier. That’s telepathic.”
“Oh. So you just…”
“We’ll be able to move things with our minds,” Alex said. He paused. “Dad? You still there?”
“I’m here, I’m here. I just wasn’t quite expectin this. You know your old man’s never been much of a curveball hitter.”
“Pretty crazy, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, you could say that. Lemme think for a second here.”
Alex could picture the vein forming on his dad’s head.
“Alex, how long has this been goin on? You know, movin stuff. You haven’t been hidin it from me, have you?”
“No! No sir. This was all news to me, too. I had no idea I was telekinetic.”
“Well, then how’d they know about you?”
“Different tests and stuff at birth. It’s kinda like you said: I was—”
“Born for that place,” Mr. Armstrong said. “Well how bout that? Guess it explains that first recruiter.”
“Sir? I didn’t hear that last part.”
“Oh, I’m just talkin to myself. But what’s gonna change? When’s all this gonna start?”
“I guess now. They gave us a special pill yesterday.”
“A pill?”
“To trigger everything. I felt like Neo when he met Morpheus.”
Another pause. “All right, you’re gonna have to start over. Right from when you walked on campus.”
“Oh that’s another thing; I’m on a different campus.”
“You’re what?” he said, his voice starting to rise. “Alex, I love you, buddy, but I’m feelin a little bit like a damn mushroom. Just keepin me in the dark and feedin me sh—”
“Dad!” Alex said, laughing. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I mean, I guess I was, but it’s because we weren’t supposed to tell you anything. I’m still not supposed to tell you anything.”
“Alex, I’m your dad.”
“I know, I know. And I get it. One of my friends…she explained your case very well at breakfast the other day. She told her parents everything.”
“She?” Mr. Armstrong said. “You already have a girlfriend?”
“Dad…geez.” Alex blushed. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“What’s her name?”
“Eva.”
“Is she pretty?”
“Very. Tall and blonde. Green eyes.”
“Thatta boy. You like her?”
“Daaad.”
“That’s a yes. Does she like you?”
Alex sighed. “I think so. Hey what happened to me telling you about everything?”
“I got distracted thinkin about you talkin to a girl.”
“Oh, geez.”
“I’m just playin. Get on with it. From the beginning.”
And so Alex talked and his dad listened. From Gus and the secret tunnel to the red pill in the lab and everything in between, Alex told his dad about the real Pal Tech.
“Well…do you feel any different?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean, I’m so hungry right now it’d be hard to notice one way or the other.”
“I imagine.”
There was a long pause before Alex spoke again. “Well, is that it?”
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“Like what? You lookin for something profound?”
“No, I just—I thought you’d have more to say.”
“Well, little buddy, it’s kind of a lot to take in. Lemme sleep on it and I’ll have some more to say. You can count on it.”
Alex winced when he heard “little buddy.”
“But if you’re puttin me on the spot, I’d guess I’d say that you don’t know how lucky you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it goes back to you bein born for this place. You’re too young to know this, Alex, but most people spend their entire lives searchin for the one thing they were born to do. And you know what? Most of em never find it. Never. They don’t find that one thing—whether it be a job or maybe just a hobby—where talent meets passion. And here you are at age sixteen and it found you! So that’s what I’d say: that you’re very lucky…and I couldn’t be happier for you.”
Alex let that settle in. “Did you find it?”
“Me? No. I thought I did—once. I thought maybe I could become a writer, since I like to read so much.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Cause I didn’t have any damn talent!”
Alex laughed. “Thanks, Dad.”
“What are you thankin me for? Thank you for finally callin. But no more keepin anything from me, okay? You can tell me anything.”
“Yes sir.” Alex sat there with his phone against his ear and his head resting in his hand. He wanted to ask his dad about his mom—had every intention of asking his dad about his mom. But now wasn’t the time. He wondered if it would ever be the time.
“Now what’s goin through that brain of yours?”
“Food.”
“Yeah, I believe I can hear your stomach growlin from here. I’ll let you go. Gimme a call tomorrow.”
“All right, Dad. Love you.”
“
Love you most.”
****
Alex stood up and jammed the phone in his jeans and considered walking back inside and listening for sounds at Nate and Patrick’s doors. But they’d be asleep. He’d still be asleep, too, if it wasn’t for that stupid alarm. He shook his head and his stomach added its two cents and he took off walking, head down, hands in his pockets.
His mind drifted back to his dream. And not the good part. Alex kept getting stuck at the hospital. The voices, the machines, the smells. His dad. The way he held his hand. How he never said goodbye. Alex started to feel nauseous when a funny-looking shadow caught his attention. He was halfway past Dresden. He backtracked a few paces and cocked his head and looked at the darkened patch of grass and pictured either a very obese bird or the world’s smallest blimp. He looked up, blocking the sun with his left hand. It was a large, blue suitcase, floating along some invisible conveyer belt, just within his reach if he gave it a good jump. And there were other items, too: a few more pieces of luggage and then all manner of personal belongings. He traced the procession all the way to the dorm and watched a lamp angle downward and then level off as it glided through an open window.
Alex glanced around at the other windows and saw students at various stages of unpacking, their voices and music and sometimes laughter spilling out onto campus. And for the first time, he truly felt like he was away at college.
Alex’s eyes returned to the floating luggage and this time traced the line to its origin: a silver Honda parked in the shade of one of the sodded covers in the upperclassman lot. Its owner stood just to the side, eyes fixed on what used to be the contents of his car.
“Hey, look! It’s our first freshman!”
Alex turned back to the junior dorm and saw a guy leaning out of his window, pointing. He was shirtless and his torso was ripped and he wore an expression that wouldn’t be called friendly.
“How was your nap?”
Alex smiled and nodded and continued walking.
“What’s the matter, Blondie? You still thinkin you’re in a nightmare?” He was a New Yorker.
“Shut up, Paul! Hey kid, over here!”
Alex stopped and followed the new voice to its owner on the second floor. She had jet-black hair and a wide smile and even at this distance he could tell she was pretty. Alex nodded and gave an awkward little wave.
