I stumbled out of my capsule before Darius or Desiree exited theirs. I turned back after reaching the fence. Desiree was laughing hysterically and quite possibly crying at the same time. Darius was laughing, too, and threw an arm over her shoulder to help keep her steady.
“You can never really be ready for The Nucleus,” Darius yelled to me, squeezed Desiree in a sideways hug, and then dropped his arm.
“You’re telling me,” I yelled back. My ears rang so badly that everything was just noise.
“I thought I was gonna die,” Desiree said. She held out her hands. “Look, I’m still shaking.”
“That’s what makes The Nucleus so exos. It gives you a new appreciation for life.” Darius ran his hands through his windblown hair and somehow brought it back to perfection. My hair was a lost cause, which was something I just had to accept.
“What now? I’m pumped!” Desiree exclaimed.
“What time is it?” I asked.
The sun had long since set and I knew we’d have to get going soon because I still didn’t know how far we were from the monorail station and if Darius was going to help us get there.
“It’s time for one more ride. You’ll love it. It’s much mellower than The Nucleus, but just as memorable,” Darius assured us. He led us past more rides, booths, a horse-drawn medieval carriage, a flute-playing snake charmer, and a multitude of other oddities.
We walked up to a line leading to a set of four large Ferris wheels called ‘The Provex City Observation Wheels.’ They were set about fifty yards apart from one another and each had support beams on only one side, bolted to a low-lying platform situated under all of the wheels.
The line moved quickly and split into four lines at the gate. Two employees stood at the entrance with portable bladeless fan scanners. Once again, Darius paid for us to enter and we were directed into the far-left line. We soon came to the end of the line and all piled into one gondola, equipped with a padded bench and glass dome ceiling. Like in the cab ride through the city, Desiree found herself in the middle. The wheel slowly moved to allow people into each gondola.
When I finally leaned against the railing to look down, I saw that the line was gone. The wheel continued to spin, but we were now also rising farther into the air. Each of the observation wheels was leaving the ground farther and farther behind. We were now far above the fair’s massive iron fence where we could see deep into the city. The nighttime lights were just as beautiful as I remembered. The city looked vibrant and alive.
Then the wheels stopped moving up and began to turn on their sides. The gondolas had a swivel connector so we remained upright as the wheel continued to pivot. Our wheel stopped while still at an angle and, from what I could see, the four wheels were now angled in such a way that they formed a large zigzag line in the sky. The wheels themselves continued to turn so each gondola could get a panoramic view of the city.
Desiree was actually speechless, and when fireworks erupted directly above us, her eyes lit up and her mouth fell open, and yet not an audible syllable escaped. We looked through the glass above and out into every direction. The rainbow of explosions was everywhere, with shimmering sparks raining down all around us.
“The illumixplodes are exos entertainment every night—9 p.m. on the dot. And these are the best seats in the city,” Darius said without taking his eyes off the horizon.
I was reminded of the fireworks Desiree and I saw from Jeremy’s penthouse suite, not so long ago, illuminating a corner of the city off in the distance.
“We’ve seen these fireworks before,” Desiree whispered in my ear and then lay her head on my shoulder.
“They were beautiful then; they’re spectacular now,” I said and reached for her hand. I was reminded that if we actually were at Disneyland like I’d told Mom, we’d be seeing a similar, yet less spectacular show at this very moment.
“Stop playing around with your friends, sitting on your haunches, and get back to work—back to what you should be doing, what you must be doing—finding your father. I can help you, but you must help me. We can generously help each other. Let us begin our inevitable journey.” The voice of my mirror had returned, like the predator it obviously was, at a moment when the city was at the height of its beauty.
“I don’t need your help for that journey,” I whispered.
“I remember what you don’t. I remember you leaving Provex City the first time—”
“I know, I remember you bothering—”
“—as a boy. A boy saying goodbye to his father, a boy not knowing when or if he would ever see his father again. Yes, I remember because I was there, too. And I know where to look because it is not here.”
I squeezed Desiree’s hand harder, trying to distract myself from the tempting voice in my head. Eventually, it left, but its words lingered in my head like so many guilty memories.
4
Small Tokens
It was two days before Christmas and we were just putting up the tree. A few weeks ago, when we would have traditionally decorated for Christmas, Mom and I were too preoccupied with our family disintegrating before our very eyes. Jeremy was gone. Richard was lying in a hospital bed, deep in a coma. Neither Mom nor I were handling things particularly well. I only had one foot in this plane at the time, preoccupied with seeing what was behind the curtain. Christmas decorations didn’t matter then. But they felt right now. The family had something to celebrate and much to be thankful for. Even though Richard wouldn’t make it home for Christmas, he was awake and with us. Our family was coming back together. However, a thin voice in the back of my mind, reminded me that someone was still missing.
On Christmas morning, we exchanged a few small gifts purchased during last-minute shopping at mostly cleared out, customer-ravaged stores. Afterward, torn wrapping paper was strewn haphazardly around the floor like the presents had exploded. We each sat on opposite sides of the living room with cups of coffee in hand, on the floor and leaning against the nearest pieces of furniture. Frolics remained closest to Mom.
“Merry Christmas,” Mom said.
Jeremy raised his coffee mug. “It’s good to be home.”
“The both of you,” Mom said.
I raised my mug to join the others. “Merry Christmas.”
We each took a sip. The room was once again silent.
Instead of saying anything more—as if there was anything to say—Mom set her empty mug on the end table and began cleaning up. Jeremy turned on the television and settled on A Christmas Story. It was halfway over, but would be starting again in an hour’s time. I helped Mom with the remaining scraps of wrapping paper, compressing them into a large multicolored snowball.
“I just need a cigarette. Then I’ll whip up some waffles,” Mom said. “How does that sound?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said. “I can get them started.”
I gathered the ingredients while Mom paced beside the pool, a line of smoke trailing behind her. I whisked the batter and cracked some eggs. It felt so normal. It felt good, but a part of me still wasn’t here. I thought of the monorail, my mirror, and the sublime red and blue buildings piercing the clouds. I imagined my father waiting for me there, even though I had no face to attach to him. I poured the lumpy batter into the waffle maker and wondered what waited for me on the other side of this plane—the small step that changed everything. I’d be lying if I said it was only calling to Desiree.
Mom took over when she returned. I leaned against the sink on the opposite counter and watched her work. She had made a conscious decision to forget. She’d made the decision for me when she slipped me one of the pills Nicholae had given her. Knowing what I knew now, I didn’t know whether it was better to know or not. Perhaps there was no right answer. I respected her decision to move on and my curiosity equally. She was the one here, trying to protect me, and I couldn’t fault her for that.
“Can you grab me some plates?” Mom asked, taking the scrambled eggs off the heat.
We ate our home
-cooked breakfast in front of the TV with Ralphie, Flick, Schwartz, and the whole gang. It was the best present any of us could have received, the small tokens sprung from their packaging earlier this morning already forgotten.
After taking the morning slow, we visited Richard in the hospital as a family, bringing him small, forgetful tokens as well. Like us, his excitement for the items was forced, but his gratitude was genuine. The true gift was time spent together. A Christmas Story continued its run on repeat and Jeremy put it on as background noise from Richard’s wall-mounted television set. Soon the background noise became our primary focus as we all sat around the bed, eyes locked on the movie. Richard was sitting up now. The hospital staff had no idea how he was healing so fast and credited his rebounding health as a miracle. But I knew better. In Provex City, I had seen a new level of possibility—and with Mr. Gordon, a deeper level still.
On the way home from the hospital, I received a text from Anna and she was already at my house when we pulled into the driveway. And she had brought Desiree and Eli. The three of them sat on the front concrete steps. Anna waved and stood when we drove up.
“I wasn’t expecting everyone,” I said, climbing out from the back seat.
Anna greeted me with a hug and a chaste kiss. There were two Christmas decorated gift bags on the ground near where Desiree and Eli were still sitting.
“I know,” Anna replied. “Surprise and Merry Christmas.”
Mom and Jeremy exchanged pleasantries with my friends before heading inside. Desiree and Eli rose, and Anna and I joined them at the top of the stairs.
“I brought you something,” Anna said, picking up one of the bags.
“Me, too,” Desiree said. “Just a small token.”
I immediately felt like a jackass because I didn’t have a thing for either one of them. I hadn’t been dating Anna that long and we’d never discussed gifts. I should have asked Desiree about gift protocol—or Jeremy—but it seriously hadn’t crossed my mind.
“Umm…I wasn’t expecting anything,” I said sourly. “I have to warn you…umm…I’ve been a little outta sorts since getting back. I haven’t been to the store. I’m sorry.”
“Dude, you can’t even use that excuse,” Eli said and laughed.
That’s right; Desiree had been through the ordeal with me. And I had been to the store. I had no excuse.
“It’s okay,” Anna said and reached for my hand. “You’ve been through a lot. People handle stressful situations differently. And besides, you should give because you want to, not to expect something in return.”
“Though it is nice,” Desiree said with a smirk. She stood in front of Eli, leaning back against him, resting the side of her head against his cheek.
Eli had his arms hooked around her waist.
“Go ahead, open it,” Anna said, handing me one of the bags.
I took it and reluctantly pulled out the decorative wad of green tissue paper and saw a folded gray T-shirt at the bottom of the bag.
“It was Desiree’s idea,” Anna said, watching my reaction as I unfolded the T-shirt.
It was an Elliott Smith T-shirt with a graphic of the Figure 8 cover design. All over the graphic were small handwritten notes like signatures in a yearbook written to the departed artist. The shirt was subtle. There was no sweeping “Elliott Smith” across the shirt. To someone who didn’t seriously listen to his music, the shirt design would go completely unnoticed.
“I love it,” I said, and I meant it. It felt like it had come from Desiree.
“I hoped you would,” Anna said and gave me a real kiss this time, now that there was no parental figure in sight.
“Break it up, break it up, you two” Desiree whined. “It’s my turn.”
“Maybe bringing them along wasn’t such a brilliant idea,” Anna whispered in my ear.
But I was secretly glad she had—at least Desiree anyway. Eli was fine, but I felt awkward around him knowing I had kissed his girlfriend—twice now. And the first one wasn’t just any kiss. He seemed a little distant, but I didn’t want to focus on that. At least he didn’t seem pissed.
I looked Anna in her powder-blue eyes and felt bad for her unawareness as well. This was another situation that begged the question: Was it better not to know? I liked her a lot…but not as much as Desiree. And this was through no fault of her own. It was nobody’s fault. Or that’s at least what I told myself.
I placed the shirt back in the bag and accepted Desiree’s gift. Like Anna’s, the bag was light. I tore out the decorative tissue paper and found a small box inside. The box was wrapped in little kid Santa paper. I found the seam in the wrapping paper and ripped half of it off in one swift motion.
What I saw inside made me shake my head and laugh.
“What is it?” Eli asked. He sounded genuinely curious.
“Now you have no excuse of ever being unprepared again,” Desiree said.
I met her eyes and smiled. I know people always say it’s the thought behind the gift that counts. I hadn’t fully believed it until today.
“You shouldn’t have,” I said, feigning a mixture of exasperation and embarrassment, as I held up the box of a dozen purple ballpoint pens so Eli could see.
“I don’t get it,” Eli said.
“Oliver needed to borrow a pen on the first day of class,” Desiree explained.
“I’ll treasure them always,” I said, laying on the sarcasm to mask my true appreciation for the gift, and dropped the box back into the Christmas bag. “Do you guys want to come in? We don’t have to stand out here all day.”
“I will,” Anna said, curling an arm through mine.
“We should get back,” Desiree said. Her fingers were now interlaced with Eli’s. “And let you lovebirds have some quality alone time.”
“I like that idea,” Anna said and nibbled at my closest ear.
“Merry Christmas, Oliver,” Desiree said. “We’ll all have to hang out soon.”
“You bet,” I said.
“Yeah, have fun, guys,” Eli said. “Oh, and by the way, I’ve got a gig at a little hole-in-the-wall in Anaheim for New Year’s Eve. Everyone’s welcome. I don’t know what plans you already have.”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” I said. “But yeah, that sounds like fun.”
Desiree and Eli left and I led Anna inside, bags in hand.
5
Desiree’s Bright Idea
I want to show you something. Can you come over? Desiree.
Right now? I texted to Desiree.
Right now, she wrote back only seconds later.
Ok. I’ll leave in a minute, I said.
Desiree met me at the door when I reached her house and led me straight up to her room. She had a bunch of sketches of wolf heads—quite possibly the Lorne wolf head—scattered across her desk. I picked up one of several crumpled-up pieces of paper from the floor, and it too was another sketch (this one only a partial), but a wolf head just the same.
“What is this?” I asked, over her blaring music.
Desiree turned down her ported iPod so we could actually talk to each other without shouting. “I had an epiphany.”
“You don’t say,” I said, and then my phone buzzed.
What are you doing? It was a text from Anna.
“Who’s that?” Desiree asked.
“No one,” I answered sharply, putting my phone away. “So, what’s this brilliant idea of yours?”
Desiree didn’t press on about my message. She had one of her devious grins again and a literal sparkle in her emerald eyes. “I’m designing you a tattoo.”
I couldn’t tell if the idea was brilliant or insane, but she was committed to it.
Several of the sketches she had on her desk were on tracing paper and she put them all up to the inner side of my right hand to see which one would fit the best. And we had a winner. One wolf head was just the right size. It looked exactly right with the angle, detail, and shading. Now the question was how it would look when it w
as all done.
“How did you remember all this detail?” I asked.
“We sat with Kafka’s body for a long time that night,” she answered. “It was in view and captivating. I had to draw it. And what I don’t remember, I improvised.”
“Fair enough.”
Desiree had bought a kit of something called jagua tattoos, which were supposed to mimic the look of real tattoos exactly. After the head was traced onto my hand, she used an applicator that came with the kit to apply the dye. It looked and felt strange, like she was applying lines of black glue to my skin. A pungent chemical odor quickly filled the room, forcing her to open the window before we started getting light-headed.
When she was finished, Desire instructed me not to touch it for two hours. I had to just sit there, holding my newly painted hand in my lap. Then all we had was time to kill. Desiree turned up her music again to kill any awkwardness of the two of us alone together in her room. While I sat there with my drying arm propped on my leg, Desiree tidied up her mess of artistic rejections.
“How long is this supposed to last?” I asked, feeling restless and anxious, looking at my hand.
“It says two to three weeks on the box.”
“Two to three weeks!” I should have asked the question earlier.
“It takes a while for the dye to fully wash out. You wouldn’t want to just wash your hands and have it rub off, would you?”
“I don’t know. If it doesn’t look good or it this doesn’t work, then yeah, I want to wash the evidence away as soon as possible. What is my mom gonna say when she sees it?”
“It’s not that noticeable.”
“Not that noticeable? It’s a gigantic wolf head on my hand!”
“It’s not gigantic; it’s the perfect duplicate size. And you can tell them that it’s not permanent. That’s got to be a relief,” Desiree said, while changing songs on her iPod. Then she looked over at her alarm clock and said, “And your time is up.”
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