Enter for Enlightenment

by Lauren Jefferson

ENTER FOR ENLIGHTENMENT

  By Lauren Jefferson

  Copyright 2013 Lauren Jefferson

  Cover by Christian Frarey

  Follow Lauren via Twitter or visit LAURJEFF WRITES for the author's blog!

  There was something in her eyes, I guess. Big and green, the color of dark forest moss saturated with life. Her eyelashes were so long they skimmed her eyebrows if she looked up.

  She came to me in a dream before I ever met her. Angel incarnate, lips parted to say what I somehow knew I needed to know. She never actually said anything, though. She just stayed like that, floating in some pocket of hyperspace, a lull in the atmosphere pocked and carved out only for her. I reached for her, the distance between us endless and unending. Stars swirled around us, nebulas light-years away exploding into cat-eyes in psychedelic bursts of color swathed in gold and neon magenta. With newborn curiosity, they spread out in relief with snaps of sparkling tendrils.

  I remember my blood curdling for an instant before everything within me settled into something calm and fuzzed like ripped cotton balls. She seemed to notice, but I couldn't be sure.

  I just wanted to reach her.

  Her image suddenly blurred, features fading, the color in her cheeks bleeding off like rosy water. I cried out, my voice dying just as quick as it materialized. She melted into the stars and infinite blackness, and I knew then I would love her for the rest of my life.

  * * *

  Before I indulge further, it is important to note how I prepared breakfast before and after I met Jessie. There is a specific deviation between the two.

  Pre-Jessie, I had one bowl of granola seeped in half a cup of skim milk. My side dish consisted of melon and grapes stewing in their own dewy condensation. Then half a glass of pulp-free orange juice because any more than half upset my stomach and any less was duly unsatisfactory. Under the bowl of granola, I placed a thrice-folded napkin. On top of the napkin, I placed my only fork in case I felt my morning fingers were too dirty to handle the fruit. I never once used my only fork. There was a certain rush in grabbing wet fruit with nubby, stale fingers after a fitful sleep, something unattainably and irrationally exciting.

  Mornings were quiet before Jessie. Mornings were about waking rather than awakening. I felt a knobbish sort of loneliness in the pit of my stomach when I sat at the table, a thick shard of sunlight bathing me, though I had a small cactus to keep me company. I had avoided naming the cactus to preserve a shred of sanity, though sometimes I felt a peculiar urge to call it something human. I would set it in its burnt sienna pot at the end of the table so it could watch me eat. I dribbled milk down my chin on occasion, which is something self-respecting adults would not like to admit happens as much as it does, and this would be embarrassing considering my guest was always watching, always unblinking. The cactus could not chastise me but I felt ashamed all the same wiping the drips off a stubbled chin.

  After I met Jessie, mornings changed incrementally until they were completely different. I traded granola for chocolate kid's cereal. I ate more grapes than I did melon because melon is not as delicious as its watercolor greens and peachy-keen hues might suggest. I did not fold my napkin thrice, instead opting to shove it in crumpled chaos under my cereal bowl. I stopped drinking orange juice. I stopped drinking anything but water.

  The specific deviation in and of itself would be noticeable if you were to watch me upon first sitting at the table. This is only a theory, a silly notion of mine - but, after I met Jessie, I'd like to think I woke up with a pop in my step and a curling, Cheshire smile.

  I'd like to think a lot of things.

  * * *

  I saw her on the subway. She was roping a scarf around her neck, some ugly thing with painfully purposeful bleach stains marring the fabric, and digging through a dirty tote bag.

  I clung to a pole for dear life, every looping turn tugging me right and left, the stops lugging me forward with an intensity a lithe fellow such as myself is not cut out to handle. At the next stop, most of the car purged its passengers and I was able to sit down on a seat upholstered in Rasta-striped material, a crusted olive-green stain peaked and spiking into my pant leg when I nestled into it.

  We made eye contact and those brilliant green eyes stared back into mine as if she had only ever known me, and I, her. Energy coiled between us like a spitfire, hot and tangled with the unknown, hiccuping when someone dared break our gazing to move about the car.

  She broke into a grin and stuck out her hand, small and pale. "My name's Jessie."

  I blinked and looked at my own hand, forgetting how to use it, how to operate a handshake. I let it hang out in front of me like a limp fish and Jessie grabbed it with delicate fingers to move it up and down as if the theatrics of a handshake could excuse a lack thereof.

  Jessie kept smiling. "What'd your mom call you, huh?"

  "Luke."

  Jessie nodded and dug through her bag again. Her hand resurfaced with a tube of lip gloss, black fuzz glued to the outside of the container. Jessie removed it, making a face, and slocked the goo onto her thin mouth. She smacked her lips at me and giggled. "Where you headed, Luke?"

  "Work."

  "What do you do at work?"

  "I enter data into a computer."

  "That's all?"

  "That's all."

  "Don't you get bored?"

  "I play games online sometimes."

  Jessie raised her eyebrows. "Naughty!"

  I cleared my throat and clutched my briefcase to my chest. I felt obligated to ask her something. Her hair, mousy brown, painted her shoulders down to her waist, flat and a bit greased at the crown. I wondered if she avoided washing it because of the hassle. "Where are you going?"

  Jessie bit into her slick grin. "AA meeting."

  My face burned. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean--"

  Jessie crowed with laughter. "It's not what you think." The train chugged to a stop, yanking us to the left. I balanced myself by grabbing the plastic frame of the chair beside me and felt a stale gunk sticking at my fingers. I wiped my hand on my briefcase. Jessie leaned forward. "It's for Abductees Anonymous."

 

  "Abductees?"

  "Alien abductees."

  "Aliens. You were abducted by aliens?"

  Jessie nodded, fervent. "When I was a child."

  "Aliens aren't real."

  Jessie stuck out her tongue at me and fell back into her chair. She crossed her arms. "I ought to take you to one of the meetings. I ought to enlighten you."

  "I wouldn't mind that." And I really wouldn't have.

  "Come with me sometime."

  "And skip work?"

  Jessie rolled her eyes. "What would you miss after one day of not punching in data?"

  I thought about it and concluded, "Nothing, really, nothing much at all."

  She leaned over the aisle and put a warm hand on my kneecap. Sparks exploded into my leg. "Then play hooky and come with."

  "Okay."

  She perked up. "Good. Good, good. I got a good feeling about you, Luke, I really do."

  I nodded.

  She stood up and swung on the metal pole in the center of the car, spinning to catch my gaze and completing her twirl with a flourish, exiting in perfect time as the door hissed open.

  * * *

  When I got to work, I played solitaire. I became thirsty, not only physically but also mentally - thoughts of Jessie swam into my brain like a gnat. Beautiful, swollen gnat.

  I approached the water cooler and pressed the nozzle over a soft paper cup. The cup felt weighty in my hands, as if it were already exhausted in holding onto my drink, so I guzzled and refilled; guzzled, refilled.

  "What the fuck you up to, L
uke?"

  Todd, a portly man with a thin layer of hair covering a massive bald spot, sidled up to me and adjusted his tie. His wedding ring cut into his fat ring finger, squishing flesh above and below the cheap gold band. He smiled at me, devious. One of the female accountants walked by and Todd whistled under his breath, chortled and hit me in the shoulder as if I shared in his sleazy fascination.

  I coughed and refilled. "Not much."

  "Bullshit, Luke, you up to something. I see you."

  "What am I up to?"

  Todd stared at me, blank, then burst into explosive laughter. "What're you up to? Hell, I don't know!" Coworkers glared back at us and Todd gave a short wave to everyone as if to acknowledge his grating personality. He lowered his voice. "Stole Hank's lunch again. Old man thinks he forgot it. You know what the note said this time?"

  "The note his wife leaves?"

  "Yeah." A snicker. He touched his tie again, sliding his chubby palm up and down. "Said if he didn't pick up groceries tonight after work, he wasn't getting any you-know-whatta tonight. Ain't that the pits? Swear to God, this marriage thing is shit." He waggled his ring finger in front of me.

  I crushed my cup and threw it away. "I'm sure." I walked toward my desk.

  "Hey man, I don't need you," I heard him call out from behind me. "I don't need no one by the water cooler with me." Then, "Hey, Sarah, what the fuck you up to?"

  I played solitaire again. I answered one email from the receptionist wondering if I would be attending that week's potluck to celebrate something I did not care about. I palmed my face with sweaty hands and looked at the cursor sitting patiently on my screen, my eyes drying and bugging and growing heavy. I swallowed and wanted more water, but Todd had made a point of camping out by the cooler and so I bee-lined for the restroom and splashed sink water into my mouth, parched lines filling with a liquid thick with impure microorganisms and minerals.

  I glanced up into the mirror and saw a slim face with a pointed nose and strong bones. I looked down, looked back up and saw the same man. I splashed water over my face and rubbed into my pores. My breaths grew hot and quick.

  I leaned on the counter. Every time I blinked I saw Jessie's smile. My head grew fuzzy. My left arm went limp and grew alive once more.

  My thirst could not be quenched.

  * * *

  I did not eat granola in the days following. I went to the store and bought kid's cereal like I mentioned, the kind that turns your milk chocolate. I bought a cluster of grapes. I went home.

  A few weeks later, I woke up with that Cheshire smile. I would have been late for work had I planned on going to work, but today was my 'hooky' day, as Jessie would've called it, and so I did not have to eat quickly or worry about impending time constraints. There was a noticeable lightness to the air after I had made the official decision regarding my workday, so much so that even my cactus appeared happier and lovelier sitting in its pot at the end of the table; thistles sharper, color greener. Taller, even, if you squinted your eyes and tilted your head just so.

  I dressed as anyone would dress for a meeting catering to alien abductees, casually and unassuming; nonjudgmental, which usually looks like old corduroy pants and a sweater with leather patches sewn onto the elbows. I wore my sensible glasses and finger-combed my hair and did not shave.

  I swished mouthwash and spit it out. The tangle of mint with the burn of alcohol made my eyes water enough that a tear or two bubbled over onto my cheeks. I wiped at them and left the apartment, but not without wishing the cactus a lovely day, lights switched off and painting everything dull gray.

  When I hopped onto the subway, Jessie was standing in the middle of a car far, far away from me, looping her arms around the metal pole and smiling at me as if she knew the exact moment of my arrival. My cheeks burned upon seeing her and I shuffled through the homeless, the wealthy girls, the grunge boys, the old women asking everyone if they heard that, if they heard what the announcer said and if so, what did he say?

  My hand left my side and I thought it was reaching for the pole, but it magnetized to her, to Jessie, and I let it. She giggled and blushed perfect circles of dewy pink and I laughed, too, and the squealing breaks on the train pushed me into her. For whole one second that lasted one whole eternity, we were closer than close could be.

  "You ready?" she whispered.

  "Yes."

  I pulled away and pretended to watch an accordion performance debuting in the next car over. Then I stopped pretending so I could really listen to it, decided to look at Jessie again and couldn't look away. The carnie's symphonic background music drifted toward us in rhythm wet with lackadaisical, sugared melody.

  She leaned in to me and I felt her breath hot on my ear, humid with the stick of late morning: "La vie en rose." Jessie leaned back, biting her lip like she seemed to do more often than not. "That's the song he's playing."

  We stopped ten minutes later at a station I'd never heard of. We entered the streets of a small town I'd never seen. I adjusted my sweater against the chilling bite of the air and Jessie held me close, sparks zapping between us like nothing I'd ever felt before. I found myself wanting to relay the experience to the cactus at home, but shook off the urge. I hadn't named him. I couldn't tell him anything.

  Jessie led us to an antiquated building with a sign for "JON'S BEST REAL ESTATE" and ducked me into the alley next to it. A stone-framed window, cracked ajar, met us with a hand-scrawled note:

  Enter for enlightenment.

  Jessie grabbed the window and grunted with the effort in lurching it all the way open. I stood back and looked out onto the streets - passersby bustled, children cried, cars honked at one another in the harried frenzy of commutes and minor emergencies.

  "Is this an official meeting?" I asked, rubbing my palms together for warmth. Jessie edged one leg inside, straddling the bottom of the window. She slung me a look.

  "What's that mean?"

  I swallowed. "Nothing, really. I... Isn't there a front door? A normal way inside?"

  Jessie reached for me and again, I was magnetized to her. I grasped her and nudged my way into a pitch-black room. Jessie coughed and sniffed. "This isn't a normal meeting," she said. "So there isn't a normal way in."

  I couldn't make out the contents of the room. I bumped into a hard object, nearly fell, but Jessie caught me and dragged me forward. My vision sparked, trying to piece together my environment, but nothing came to light. I felt the hum and rush of an industrial fan. Jessie let go of me to fiddle with something and opened a door into blinding, all-consuming light. I cried out and Jessie shushed me. When my eyes adjusted, I found three men holding hands in a semi-circle, facing us.

  The men were carbon copies of me.

  Little ole me.

  * * *

  I halted and yanked out of Jessie's grip. She locked the door behind us. "I don't understand," I said quietly.

  "It looks strange now, but it'll make sense soon," Jessie said, massaging into my shoulders. I pulled out from under her hands and backed up into a wall. The room was plain and dirty white, linoleum cream floor tiles and taupe blinds for windows that were not windows at all, but pieces of glass acting as such in showing a brilliant view of a brick wall. A crinkled, half-deflated cellophane balloon hung near the ceiling, bobbing at the far end of the room. It said, "Thank You!" I think, but could not be sure as my stomach had dropped and I felt a bit ill.

  The men smiled. I grimaced - my teeth don't really look like that, do they? My mouth is so crooked.

  A soft pinprick landed into my arm with a tingled ripping sensation and I found Jessie with a sheepish look, bloody syringe in one hand and dripping blue liquid. I felt queasy, then exhausted, then utterly overjoyed.

  "I think I love you," I sang to Jessie.

  Jessie helped me fall back onto a gurney I had not been aware existed. The men approached around the gurney and merely observed. Jessie put a cold hand over my eyelids to close them and shushed me like a mot
her shushes her baby.

  * * *

  I dreamt of her again. I dreamt of reaching her in an unreachable hammock of a dark void; a dark, spatial Neverland.

  She disappeared.

  I still loved her.

  * * *

  "I'm sorry," I heard Jessie whisper close to me. I couldn't open my eyes. I heard machines pump and hiss. Beeps and vibrational drones lulled me back into half-sleep. I tried to speak but the words melted into a gurgle. Jessie sighed and I felt her fingers brush my hair. I had wanted to ask her about my cactus. "This is necessary, though," she said. "You're very lucky. You're the first in a series of the new human male we've been testing. An honor, really, you have no idea." A shaken sigh and a cleared throat. "Your time's up, though, so I was asked to find you and I did, I found you, Luke." Her voice broke. "The other three... their turn, now, huh? Yeah." She laughed quietly. "They'll be sent out to experience life with some fake life story and their data will be reviewed and maybe we can get it right this time. Maybe we can do something good." A sniffle. "Then I'll have to find each of them and bring them back here and they'll have the same questions."