She slapped me, hard, and like that Jenny’s presence disappeared. I felt it leak away like water through a sieve. I clasped my arms around Annabelle’s waist, starting to cry. Gently, she stroked my head and led me back to the table.
Time passed. When I felt calm, I said, “What must I do?”
Dr. Li was sitting with lidded eyes, looking off into the trees. Sunlight through the branches painted the grass. He seemed to be listening to something only he could hear.
“We must send you into the spirit realm. Once you are there, you’ll have to attract your ex-wife’s attention. Then…” he trailed off.
“Then what?”
He glanced at me, still smiling, and made a chopping motion with his hand. “You cut off her head.”
I burst out laughing. “You can’t be serious. How am I supposed to cut off the head of a spirit?”
“Roger, give it a chance,” Annabelle said.
“It’s not real head,” Dr. Li explained. “It’s just a metaphysical head. Trust me, you’ll know what to do. But first I must prepare an herbal tonic that will sedate you and allow you to cross over. I’ll need to use your kitchen.”
“Of course.” Annabelle got up and accompanied the doctor inside. Before disappearing completely, she turned to me and said, “You gonna be all right?”
I nodded, and she slipped into the house.
Am I going to be all right? An abyss had opened under my feet. I felt like those tightrope walkers, the ones who strung ropes between two skyscrapers. No safety net waited to catch me if I fell into the abyss. There was only one way to go—down.
I was in a strange place mentally. I was happy I’d come here to be with James because it had enabled Annabelle and me to meet; it also allowed me to rediscover huge gaps in my past, things I’d forgotten or intentionally blocked out. I was excited and hopeful about helping James overcome his illness.
But I felt lost, like I was no longer myself. The last fourteen years of my life had been spent in biter solitude; work and TV made up my social life. Sometimes I’d befriend one of my students, but even that always remained a professional relationship. I’d grown very comfortable being alone, and I’d conditioned myself to not focus on Jenny.
Now everything was in motion, spinning around, faster and faster. I’d become conscious of the magnitude of the situation and there was no going back.
A halting shape in the grass caught my attention and I turned… and just about swallowed my tongue. James was standing there in his grubby pajamas—more like a formless image than a person. Mist swirled around him. He was a rat-like apparition, limbs and face curving downward into a beak, grinning at me.
“What the hell do you want?” I said under my breath. He continued to show his teeth, the mist circling around him.
“I know it’s my fault, is that what you want?”
He said nothing.
“I got us into this mess at Ohio State, I drew the attention of that thing, that eater of time that’s got you by the balls, but now I’ve come back to help you out, man. I even went and found some esoteric Chinese healer. What more do you want from me?”
His grin faltered, his body flickered. For a moment, he resembled something out of a silent film. Lifting his hand, he pointed toward the trees at the rear of the backyard.
I followed his finger, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. I shook my head. But that’s when a massive blotch of color began spreading across the trunks, an expanding purple orb that engulfed the greenness and blocked everything out.
Glued to the chair, I watched as a strange landscape took shape within the opening. I saw purple mountain-like forms in the distance; a purple sun couched in a purple sky; the terrain dotted here and there with black boulders and what might have been black shrubs.
Intuitively, I knew I was looking into the spirit world. It was like the surface of a dead planet, a wasteland of purple and black, an abstract rendering painted by an artist who’d gone insane. Out of this insanity stepped Jenny, my ex-wife.
She was tall and emaciated. Her blonde hair appeared ghostly in its waviness. She was naked except for a red scarf (I remember that scarf, it’s the one her mother gave to her when her father was killed in the war) wrapped around her neck, dangling between her breasts. She moved like a lithe ballerina across the grass.
We made eye contact, those crystal blues of hers, so discerning and inquisitive. I could all but hear her whispering, Tell me. Tell me all that you remember from childhood. Married couples share things with each other, Roger. I can help you…
“No, no, no,” I began to mutter without realizing it. She filled me with such impotent rage and hatred—mixed, paradoxically, with devout loyalty and longing—that I suddenly just wished she would go away.
At that instant James’s swirling form lunged at her. He held out his fingers, which melted into hard iron, a rusted blade of minerals and flesh. He sort of danced in a circle, bringing the blade around Jenny’s neck in a graceful arc. She had a single moment to mouth the words Help Me before James took her head clean off. It dropped to the grass with a thud, rolled, her body crumpling after. Blood gushed in waves and stained the grass a dark, sensuous red.
I got up from the chair and went inside.
Chapter Sixteen
Annabelle and Dr. Li were busy in the kitchen. The doctor had opened his medical bag on the dining table, had spread out its contents. I took a moment to look it all over: a collection of jars labeled with Chinese characters, each containing strange-looking herbs; an array of small glass cups; more moxa sticks; books and what resembled papyrus scrolls; and a huge Zip-lock bag full of tiny needles, each individually packaged and sanitized.
“Did anyone bring James his breakfast?” I asked.
They looked at me. Annabelle pointed to the counter, where a plate of food sat cooling. “I was afraid to go in there.”
“I’ll take care of it.” I snatched up the plate and headed upstairs. I entered James’s bedroom, crossing the carpet floor, and began yanking the drapes open, freeing the sunlight.
James, a musky packrat lying in bed, groaned and turned onto his side when I opened the window. “Get out,” he mumbled. “Just let me die. I’ve had enough.”
I sat in the chair by the bed. “Eat this.”
He raised a hand over his shoulder and flipped me the bird.
“Goddam it, James, eat it.” I grabbed the sheet and pulled it off him, exposing his long, bony body darkened by the first hints of bedsores.
He laboriously got in a seated position, retrieving the sheet to wrap it around his waist. I couldn’t believe how thin he was. I searched his face for signs of the Time Eater, but it seemed like I was actually looking at James. I sighed with relief. Maybe I could actually talk to him.
I held out the plate and he took it, began shoveling the eggs and potatoes into his mouth. Bits of yellow and brown got lodged in his beard. I didn’t say a word until he was finished, for I knew he could only eat when the Time Eater wasn’t controlling him.
He gave the plate back to me, scraped clean. I set it on the floor. His expression softened. “Thanks,” he said. “I needed that. Help an old pal to the bathroom?”
I smiled, glad that he’d asked. “Sure.”
His body felt like a sack of brittle sticks as he threw his arm around my neck. I supported him until we had reached the bathroom. A horrible odor of urine emanated from him.
“I can take it from here,” he said, detaching from me and sort of limping though the door and closing it behind him. “Gonna be a minute,” he called. “You might as well get comfy. I need a shower.”
“You got it, pal.” I had a seat by the window. I slid open the glass, letting fresh air in. Warm, summer air, full of moist humidity. Brooklyn was out there, sounds and the wavering sea of rooftops, the buildings and the trees and the grass plots and chain-link fences.
I drifted while I watched the world going by. James’s voice snapped me out of it. “Hey, you fall asleep? I said I’m
ready.”
“Yeah, sorry, coming.”
I opened the bathroom door where he was bracing himself against the frame. A cloud of steam wafted out. I glanced past him and saw clothes and dirt had begun to build up on the tile floor. The sink was quite dirty, and I wondered if it would be a good idea to run a wet rag over the place.
He curled his arm across my shoulders again, and we headed to the bed. He got himself situated, and then I pulled the sheets over him. “You don’t need a blanket?” I asked.
“Fuck no. It’s damn hot in here.”
“Well I can leave the windows open.”
He didn’t answer, but eventually said, “Just make sure you shut the drapes. I don’t like all this sun. I can’t stand it.”
“You don’t think it’s nice?” I chuckled at his general bad attitude.
“What’s the point? Where I’m going, there isn’t going to be any sun. Might as well get used to it.”
“That’s bullshit.” But I did as he asked, closing the drapes and consigning the room to darkness. It felt like a tomb.
“What about my shot?” he said.
Of course. He wants his morphine.
“Might be some later,” I lied. “For now why don’t you take it easy.”
“It’s because of that new doctor. The Chinese fellow. I had a dream about him last night.”
“His name is Dr. Li and he’s very good. He’s going to help us get through this.”
James grunted as if to say I’ll believe it when it happens. He rolled over and proclaimed with finality, “Now I sleep.”
“Fine. I’ll leave you alone.” I picked up the empty plate and went for the door, but before I could escape into the hall I felt compelled to tell him, “You know, today it’s my turn to face the demons.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, almost irritably. “You’re gonna get rid of that bitch who made a lapdog out of you. All I can say is good riddance.”
“That’s about all I have to say, too.” I slipped through the door, pulling it closed behind me.
Annabelle and Dr. Li appeared to be finishing up whatever they’d been doing.
“What took so long?” she asked.
I set the plate on the counter. “I helped him into the bathroom and he took a shower. We also talked a bit. He seemed his old self again… sort of.”
She smiled. “That’s great, Roger. Really great.” Then Dr. Li cleared his throat, prompting her to say, “Oh, we’re ready for you. The tonic’s finished.”
I bent over the table where the doctor was sitting and sniffed the mug of steaming liquid that was before him. I wrinkled my nose. It smelled like a sour foot. “What in the name of God is it?”
“It’s special, just for you,” he answered. Then he rattled off a list of herbs with Asian-sounding names, few of which I recognized. “In order for it to work,” he said, “you must drink it in a special place, a place chosen by you alone. Do you have a place in mind?”
I nodded, “I do,” then snatched the mug and headed into the backyard. They followed me out and stood watching me with inquiring eyes. “After you two went inside,” I explained, “I had a vision out here. I saw an opening to the spirit world and I saw Jenny walk out of it.”
Dr. Li’s bushy eyebrows lifted. “You did? Where?”
I pointed to the line of trees near the back of the yard. He nodded and began to walk in that direction, signaling us to join him. When we reached the trees, I pointed to the grass and said, “Right here.”
I sat down with Annabelle and the doctor standing over me and commenced drinking the tonic. But after the first sip I nearly dumped the whole thing out. “It tastes like rancid meat,” I said.
“That ’cause it’s very good,” the doctor replied, smiling.
Annabelle kneeled beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Go on,” she said, “You can do it.”
I filled myself with resolution and gulped it down, gagging after I had finished. “Stuff’ll kill someone,” I muttered. Immediately I got lightheaded and toppled back in the grass, dropping the mug. Looking up at the sky through the branches, the world began to spin.
The last thing I saw before slipping into darkness was Dr. Li’s wise old face peering down at me.
* * *
“Is that it? Has he flipped to the other side?”
“Yes, he is gone. Now come. We have much to do…”
* * *
I was surrounded by the warmth of a woman. She had her arms around me, clutching me to her chest. The slow steady draw of her soft flesh called to me, and I wanted nothing more than to be sheltered inside it. I began clawing, pulling at it and stretching it tight. I yanked it down over my head, over my naked body, and like a piece of chewed bubble gum it stuck to my skin, encapsulating me. I opened my mouth and took a breath.
Then I opened my eyes.
What is this?
Where am I?
I had returned to the seething purple landscape dotted with black boulders and shrubs.
Returned?
Yes, I had been here before. Long before I was born.
The sky—no, not sky, more sea-like—over my head pulsated and heaved. It looked like dark water thrashing in a bowl. I was on my back but now got up to my feet. The pain in my limbs was unbearable. When I evaluated myself, I almost went into shock. I had become something different. I was no longer Roger Borough but an alien, with pale skin stretched over thin bones, hands large as dinner plates, feet like a giant’s, and tall as a tree.
I heard a voice, soft and lilting—a female voice—calling out to me, and it reminded me why I was here: James, Dr. Li, Annabelle, the spirit world.
Jenny.
* * *
There she went, disappearing over the top of a large purple hill. Her voice, soft like a child’s, flickered back to me.
“You’ll never catch me.”
Courage flooded my twisted alien veins, and a warrior’s blood pumped in my heart. We’ll see about that, I thought, starting after her.
The limbs and joints in my new body moved with startling ease, despite their size. More loping than walking. My arms hung down apelike, knuckles dragging on the ground. By accident I realized I had the ability to sharpen my arms, elongate them, hands tapering to two points. Like swords.
I remembered Dr. Li saying, It’s not her literal head you must cut off, but her metaphysical one.
I spent a few moments altering them back and forth—blades, arms, blades, arms—then grinned as I proceeded up the hill.
After reaching the top, I came face-to-face with a vision of such astounding power. I stood awe-struck, surveying the view I had attained from this height. The stony purple landscape stretched in all directions, merging with the distant horizon and transforming into sky. Piles of black boulders lay scattered everywhere, often ringing the mouths of dark, gaping pits. Shrubs and trees, also black, possessed a counterfeit quality, like cardboard cutouts.
“Over here,” she called.
My eyes left the vast tumbling cloud-beast shapes in the sky to find Jenny sitting under a paper-thin tree. To her left, a large black stone was propped up ceremoniously in the dirt, ringed by smaller stones.
Jenny looked like I did—that is, she was tall, thin, bony and white, naked with large hands and feet. Her face was wide, eyes deep-set, mouth full and inviting, and her blonde hair swam off the back of her head as though pulled by the wind, although the air was still.
For some reason, because we had both adopted this alien form, I was not afraid of her. We now appeared evenly matched, at least in my eyes. That hard beautiful shell she’d worn on the outside of her skin, which for years had both repulsed and attracted me, was gone; without it she seemed kinder, gentler.
“Come and sit down,” she said.
Before I had time to think, I was already moving. That’s how it is with us, I thought. She says jump, I say how high.
But I sat down, tucking my lengthy appendages beneath me, as she displayed her strange etheric
countenance, with a world of cosmic blacks and blues around us. For an absurd moment I felt like I was on the cover of a cheesy science fiction novel, and I laughed.
Tilting her head, she said, “What’s so funny?”
I gestured. “All this. How ridiculous it is.” But then I stopped, having a sudden clarity, and continued—“It’s like I know so much now. So many new ideas are popping up in my head.”
“Why don’t you tell me about them?”
“I can remember my past lives. Jesus, they are countless.” I chuckled. “In one I was an Arabian sheikh and I think James was my son. In another I lived in a small village in Africa… and you were there.” I paused. “Holy shit, you were my mother.”
“Human incarnations are linked. The cycle of death and rebirth is what turns the Karmic wheel. The past is important, but it can also become a prison. We can easily get stuck in it, and then we’re frozen in time. That’s what the Time Eater is for.”
“It eats away the past,” I said. “It forces us to live in the present.”
She nodded.
“You make it sound like a good thing,” I said.
“It’s an essential thing.”
“But it eats away the present, too, I know it does. I’ve witnessed it.”
“The Time Eater is mindless. It does what it does without thinking. As each second passes, the present becomes the past. Think of the Time Eater as an algae-eating fish in a giant aquarium. As long as there’s food, it’ll keep eating.”
I looked down at my giant clawed hands. “It’s going to eat James.”
She was quiet and I could feel the tension in her. Some force was building. I suspected she wanted to tell me something but was afraid to. At last she said, “That is one possibility. The two of you are so funny, you know that? My God, don’t you even remember?”
I looked at her. “Remember what?”
She sighed. “I can’t tell you, Roger. You’ll have to find out for yourself.” She held her arms out to me, long sinewy stalks connected to a tight pale chest with small breasts. I knew she desired to embrace me. I could feel the draw, the pull, the tractor beam of intensity that wanted to fuse us together. I tried to fight the urge, but my will was weak and like a child I crawled into her lap and curled up against her. We sat for a long time. I felt comfortable in her arms, so warm, so safe.
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