Mind Over Mind

by Karina L. Fabian

  He sank back into the chair. “She didn’t know what I was,” he whispered. “She said God brought us together.” Yes, God. Go ahead; smile that patronizing smile.

  But he didn’t. “And you moved heaven and earth to fulfill what you perceived as your duty, let yourself be called away, even at awkward moments…Have you noticed how that pattern has changed since Joshua’s arrival?”

  “He told me to how get her to ask permission first!”

  “I know. And have you found at times you’re able to refuse—or maybe not even hear her call?” He didn’t wait for Ydrel’s reply; Ydrel supposed the sullen look on his face was answer enough. “More and more your attention has been focused on your new friendship, and you’ve had less and less need for your Tasmae. She’s beginning to fade; with some work, we may be able to rid you of her forever. But you need to understand that she is, indeed, an illusion. And in the meantime, we need to investigate what true abilities you do possess. This is even more important now that you’ve discovered how to tap into power outside yourself. Think about how just your receptive abilities, uncontrolled, have hurt you. What could another ability, like telekinesis, do to someone else?”

  Ydrel already knew what his abilities could do. He shuddered, and wrapped his arms around his knees. He could feel Dr. Malachai looking at him intently. He didn’t meet his gaze. Could Malachai be right? Was Tasmae really just an illusion, a way for him to feel needed? Then, what about the Master—was he just an illusion he could get rid of?

  “Ydrel?”

  Did he want Tasmae to be a delusion—even if it meant being free of the Master?

  “Ydrel, what do you say?”

  —I need time. I need to think. “But I don’t have anything for you,” he whined miserably. “I spent a day manic, then I was attacked, and I went catatonic and then Isaac died, and, and—” The tears he hadn’t been able to shed now came flowing to the surface. He buried his head into his knees. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He tried not to flinch.

  “Why don’t you just tell me about these ley lines you’ve found? Then you can spend the next few days privately trying to focus this new power. Tuesday, we’ll see what you can do.”

  *

  Sachiko awoke Saturday morning to the tantalizing smells of freshly brewed coffee and bacon. The sizzling of the bacon made a soothing counterpoint to the whirr of the fans. Drowsily, she rolled over.

  Then she realized she was still on Joshua’s couch. The couch he used for a bed.

  She sat up suddenly, pulling the thin cover up to her chest, her face burning with embarrassment. Then, as she awoke more fully, she felt a different sort of embarrassment as she realized she was still fully clothed. Nothing had happened last night except that she’d fallen asleep. She rubbed her cheeks, glad her back was to the kitchen. When she thought her face was back to its normal color, she turned around. Joshua was at the stove, his back to her. He had on clean shorts and a t-shirt, and looked like he’d already had a shower. “What time is it?” she asked.

  He turned and smiled. “Good morning. It’s about 10:00. I was just about to wake you. I’ve got breakfast ready.” He tilted the pan so she could see the scrambled eggs before he put them into a platter next to the cooked bacon. “How do you like your coffee?”

  “Cream and sugar. I’ll fix it. Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” She stood up and stretched. In the middle of the stretch, she caught a glance of him staring at her. He had a funny kind of smile on his face. “What?”

  “Nothing, really.” At her glare, he rolled his eyes and went to fetch the coffee. “All right. I was just admiring how beautiful you look, but I know that’s cliché—”

  “You’re right. And you didn’t answer my question.” She sat down and loaded up her plate as he poured her coffee. She placed a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. He took a seat on the next side of the table and started into his own breakfast. “Well?”

  “I woke up early, and you didn’t even move when I got up. You just looked so sweet sleeping there, I didn’t have the heart to wake you, so I left you a note and went to work on the garden some while it was still cool out. When you didn’t notice that I’d left, or when I returned, I went ahead and showered and started breakfast. I figured you needed the sleep.”

  She did feel rested, but that didn’t quell her annoyance. “Well, we’re still way behind schedule, especially if we’re going to Newport today. It’s going to take me an hour just to drive home and shower.”

  “So shower here. I’ll be good; I’ll even go work on the garden some more and you can lock the door if that’d make you more comfortable.”

  “And what am I going to wear? This is the only clean outfit I’ve got, and it’s wrinkled. So are my jeans and t-shirt. What would my parents think?”

  “You could spritz them and toss them in the dryer for a few minutes. That’ll take the wrinkles out.”

  “Do you have an answer for everything?”

  “Matter of fact.” He grinned, and she couldn’t help but grin back.

  He did go to work on the garden some more while she showered, though she’d told him it wasn’t necessary to leave. She even took his advice about the dryer, and in half an hour she was clean and dressed. She took one of her books to the garden to read. She had seen the old swing under the maple tree in part of the cleared area, so she studied while he worked, looking up on occasion to remark on something she’d read or to admire the way his muscles moved as he pulled weeds and trimmed back plants grown wild. He had his shirt off and his dark skin glistened with sweat. “You’re going to need another shower by the time you’re done,” she commented.

  He grinned impishly at her. “Will I have to lock you out of my house?”

  She pulled herself up into a dignified pose. “I am a nurse,” she said loftily. “I’m sure you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

  He just smiled slyly and did a slow arm curl. “It’s not what you have; it’s how you package it.”

  “Oh, please!” She shut her book and stood. “I’m going in. It’s hot out here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “The weather, you loon!” But she had to admit to herself that at least part of the heat she felt had little to do with the sun. It took her awhile once she got in to turn her mind back to internal anatomy and surgical procedures. She was just really getting into the chapter on Cesarean Sections, acting it out while she visualized the procedure and said each step aloud when Joshua came in. Even though he’d been the one to teach her to review that way, she stopped, a little embarrassed. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “You’re right. It’s too hot out there. Want me to drill you?”

  She glanced at her book. “Actually, I’m doing pretty good with the visualizing; I’m really remembering a lot that way. But you have to promise not to watch me—it’s too embarrassing, know what I mean?”

  “OK. I’m going to grab a shower now. What should I wear to meet your parents?”

  “Change into whatever for now. If we’re taking Dragonfly, you’ll need to change into jeans, anyway. No one rides my bike without helmets and leg coverings. Got to protect that packaging, after all.”

  “I love the way your mind works.” He laughed and leaned over to kiss her. He smelled like sweat and earth and green growing things. She set one hand on his bare chest as the kiss deepened.

  Oh, I could get used to this…“Go clean up!” She gave him a playful shove.

  *

  Ten minutes later, he flopped onto the couch next to her, clean and dressed in a muscle shirt and cut-off jeans shorts, and sporting a new earring. This one had a silver triangle set into a gold circle with a small diamond at its top point. Sachiko did a double take. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Vulcan IDIC. I can change it if you think it’d bother your parents…”

  “Are you kidding? My dad may be retired Navy, but he’s a big-time Trekker. Question is: does your mom know about it?”

  He la
ughed. “My mom bought it for me. I’m going to take my laptop to the table and check e-mail while I eat. Want something?”

  “Not if we’re going to my parents’. They own a restaurant, remember?”

  “Well, I’ll be hungry again by then. You know what they say about teenage guys.”

  “They’re insatiable?”

  “That, too. Also, we can eat like there’s no tomorrow.”

  She started to say something, realized how he’d twisted what she’d said in the first place and threw a pillow at him as he made his way to the refrigerator. Still, she had to admit that for all his flirtations and entendres, he’d pretty much given her the time and space she needed to study. In fact, she’d done better studying here than she normally did alone in her apartment. It’s so comfortable here. I’m so comfortable here, she thought. She turned to watch him building a Dagwood-style sandwich. His body was moving to the rhythm of some song, although he neither whistled nor hummed, probably in deference to her studying. Suddenly, her stomach gave an uneasy lurch. He was only there for the summer; should she let herself get this comfortable around him?

  Worry about that later, she scolded herself. For now, study. Cyst removal. Let’s go.

  An hour later, she stretched and shut her books. It was just after two, but she’d actually accomplished more than she’d expected. “I’m at a good breaking point,” she said to Joshua, who was sitting at the table with his laptop and an empty plate. “Shall we?’

  “Let me just finish this.”

  “What are you working on?” she asked as she walked up behind him and leaned over his shoulder.

  Quickly, he shut the computer.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, backing away. “I didn’t know it was private. I’ll just get my stuff together.” She turned to go, but he stopped her with a touch on the arm. She turned, a little puzzled, but didn’t say anything.

  He regarded her a moment, his lips a thin line, one finger tapping the top of his computer tensely. Then, he unfolded it so she could see the message on the monitor, forwarded, apparently, from his father:

  Subj: (NLPAssociation) Eye Movements in Psychic Phenomena?

  That son of yours sure comes up with some stumpers! If I didn’t know you, I’d think this was a joke.

  I’ve never heard of any studies of the phenomena you mentioned, neither among mental health patients nor academic studies. I’ll do a search, as you requested. Be patient.

  In the meantime, your observations were certainly fascinating—I’d like to hear more if you can manage it. However, tell him to be careful about who he shares this with. He’s still young in his career—does he really want to be associated with something as fantastic as ESP?

  Regards,

  “You’re posting Ydrel’s case on the Internet?!” She didn’t know whether to hit him or storm out. He spoke quickly before she could do either.

  “No! No, I just sent a description of an anonymous psychic I’d observed. For all anyone knows, it’s a carnival sideshow performer I’m talking about. And it’s posted onto a closed e-mail group for NLP Association members. My dad looked it over before he sent it. I, I just—” He stopped, unsure what to say that would convince her of his intentions. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea…

  “I’m listening.” She crossed her arms; her expression, like her tone, was closed. But at least she didn’t turn away.

  He took a breath.

  “OK. One of the main precepts of NLP is if you want to know what’s happening in the mind, look at the eyes. For example, think about the last time you saw snow outside your apartment window.”

  He caught her off guard, but grudgingly, she dredged up a memory. “Uh…”

  “Your eyes flicked up and left—standard visual recall. Now imagine purple snow in a mountain valley…Up, right. Visual construction. Now, sometimes, people’s motions vary, but always, it’s the same in general—when the brain is at work, eyes move one way for vision, another for hearing, still another for feel; one side for recall, one for construction, or imagining. And it’s different from when the brain is taking in input, like you’re looking at something. It’s not something you can consciously control. It’s a reflex—”

  “What’s this got to do with Ydrel and your email?”

  “I’m getting to it! Ydrel, when he’s being...well, ‘normal,’ follows the usual pattern. But when he’s having a, um, psychic experience, his eyes are all wrong from what you’d expect if he were making it up—but not if he were remembering or actually experiencing what he says he’s experiencing. Like when he said McDougal was making him manic: if he himself were manic, his eyes would have been doing one thing, and I know what that should be—I’ve seen it in others before. And I know his usual patterns. If he were just pretending, his eyes would have done another. It would have been obvious, at least to me. I’m not bragging or anything; it’s just training. But his eyes were, well, wrong. Ydrel’s pattern is visual-tactile-verbal; anything he comes up with, real or imagined, should follow that pattern. But when he was acting so odd and blaming it on McDougal, his pattern changed to verbal-visual—and anything tactile, he had to make it up. Later, I talked to McDougal—guess how he thinks.”

  “Verbal-visual?” Sachiko’s arms were still crossed, but she had turned to lean against the table, and her expression was more skeptical than closed. Encouraged, Joshua went on.

  “Bingo! Plus, his eyes kept bouncing, for lack of a better word. It was like his cognitive processes were fighting for control. And his pupils were pinning.”

  “Were what?”

  “Pinning—pinpointing. Contracting. Birds of prey do it under stress; Ydrel does it when he’s ‘going psychic.’ If you look, you’ll see it. Anyway, that’s another reflex that should be beyond conscious control.” He sighed. “It’s beyond my experience. So I thought I’d ask the people in the field with the real experience, find out what they have to say. Who knows? Maybe there are other people out there who have the same kind of pathos. So far, all I’ve got is, ‘weird stuff, Josh.’”

  “Have you talked to Edith about this?”

  “Sort of.” His voice was tenser than he wanted. “’Ko, I’m not sure she takes NLP seriously, or me, for that matter. Plus, she’d want to talk to Malachai about it, and I can tell you exactly what he’d have to say.” He glanced back at the computer and closed the program. “If I hear something that makes sense of this, I may broach the subject; but for now, I’d rather keep it private. And I swear to you,” he stood and set his hands on her shoulders, “that I will say nothing that even hints at Ydrel’s identity, or even that I’m talking about a patient and not some side-show act.”

  She felt the last of her anger melt under his sincere and guileless gaze, but she just wasn’t ready to give in so easily. “I don’t want him hurt.”

  “Neither do I. He’s already got enough people discussing his quirks and treating him like some kind of interesting case study.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him.

  He looked away. “I’ll go change.”

  CHAPTER 27

  He came out of the bathroom silently, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. She had on her riding leathers and jacket; without a word, he took her bag for her and held open the door. Outside, she gave him the extra helmet she had for passengers and showed him how to adjust it, and turned on the mike so that they could talk to each other on the ride. He answered only in grunts. She found herself wishing she hadn’t seen his email—or at least, not when she did. She still didn’t like what he’d done, and found herself only talking to him to give him instructions on how to lean and keep balanced as they made their way to I-138. He held her tightly, but she could tell it was more from nervousness than affection.

  Once on the highway, though, he relaxed and finally spoke. “You’re right. My motives are different, but I’m not doing anything different than everyone else has done to Ydrel. Even if nobody else knows who I’m talking about, I know. Trouble is, I’ve already asked, and I do
want to know. I’ve been trying to decide what to do about it, and the best I can come up with is to tell him what I’ve done and ask him how he feels about it. If he says it’s OK, I pursue it; if not, I’ll just let it go—treat it like it was an idle observation.”

  For a moment, she couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. “Do you know how wonderful you are?”

  Now his arms tightened around her affectionately. “You’re the wonderful one. I’m still new at this. Thanks for being my conscience. But I’m still not saying anything to Edith. I think that’d just open up a big can of worms.”

  “Agreed.”

  With that settled, the tension around them immediately lightened, and they spent the next few miles in companionable silence, just enjoying the ride and the view. This close to the coast, the traffic was far thinner than in Providence, even at the height of tourist season. The highway was lined with thick woods and a scattering of evergreens and tall brush, occasionally broken by walls of jagged rock where a hill had been chipped away to make room for the highway. Joshua sighed. “It’s so lush along your highways. You almost feel like you could step off the road and get lost in the forest.”

  “What, it’s not like that in Colorado?”

  “Not where I’m from. The Front Range is lots of arid prairie, low round hills at most. The mountains, now that’s a whole different story. Rugged, tall trees, lots of pine and aspen. ‘Course, you can step off the road and get lost. Here, you walk a hundred yards and end up in someone’s backyard—Oh, wow!”

  They had come to the first of the two bridges that would take them to Aquidneck Island. Sachiko loved crossing the bridges and seeing the fancy condos and well-kept colonial homes that bordered the gray-blue bay, and hundreds of private sailboats offshore. She felt Joshua’s arms tighten around her waist, and saw through her rearview mirror that he was looking more down than out and across the water.