....Conclusion
I wasn't waiting around to see who or what else was going to manifest itself as a person or in the guise of a phantom house in one of the most ritzy neighborhoods on Oahu.
Something about it wasn't only disorienting, it was draining, and I didn't understand any of it. Indeed, it was a time portal of some sort, but it had no fixed moment as to when something happened or didn't happen. It was too random and unexpected, and I could see now that there was also a danger that you could run into some version of yourself. Who knows what kind of far-reaching danger that situation might precipitate?It was best to walk away from it, but for William, wherever he was, I can only hope that he finds his way back to the here and now. The same goes for those two police officers. I have to get on with my own life, my own concerns, and my own mortality in my timeline. That leaves the open question about Tuesday Marshand and her request to prevent her from falling in love, which she said ruined her life. Whatever that means, it was no longer my kūleana.
***
I had a strange dream last night that I was back in 1982, to be more specific. I was part of a class at U.H. Mānoa where the religion class was hosting guests from around the world for a kind of symposium, where, for summer credit, we were supposed to meet our guests and find even the most basic commonality with the beliefs of our guests and ours. Every day, we would meet one of these guests, spend the day with them, and then switch off to a new guest the following day. Some people hit it off like wildfire, others clashed from the get-go, yet others said nothing and sat together in deep meditation. I was paired with Martes not by assignment, but because we essentially clashed with everyone we met. I remember sitting on the side, snacking from a big bag of pretzels. Martes sat next to me and blustered, "God, no one here is tolerant of what I believe."
"What do you believe?" I asked.
"Nothing," she said while reaching into my bag and helping herself to a pretzel.
"Atheist, agnostic?" I was curious to know.
"Whoever this God person is, he or she must be angry because look at all the shit going on in the world," she shook her head. "I'm Martes, by the way."
"Kalani," I introduced myself as we simultaneously reached for the same pretzel in my bag.
"Why would an omnipotent being cause and allow so much suffering? That's what I've asked every single person I've met thus far, and it's struck a chord. After that, they avoid me like an ugly girl at the prom."
"You're not ugly," I laughed. "Why would you say that about yourself?"
"Well, I'm not pretty," she smirked.
"You're beautiful, but you're not stupid," I said. "A lot of these guys? Their ego won't allow that. It's why they avoid you. You don't fit what their expectation of a beautiful girl is supposed to be, demure and submissive."
"Oh, you're good," she shook her head. "You're really good! Maybe it's you I should avoid?"
"You're argument about an omnipotent being is a valid argument," I told her.
"Yes, cause imagine we find out that there's no God, no higher power? Where does that leave everyone? A whole belief system has been dismantled!" Martes threw up her arms.
"It's a dangerous thing to consider," I replied. "Because at that point, we're in a religious wasteland, and that could only mean that man would have to depend on himself for his beliefs."
"What do you believe?" She asked.
"I'm a Buddhist, so everything starts from here," I pointed to myself.
***
We spent a lot of time together after that, even though we had to partner with other people during the term. It was an eye-opening experience, to say the least. So many young people in their twenties are already staunch believers in what they believe, with no room to wiggle. They don't even see the rest of their lives ahead of them. At the end of the term, when it was time to say farewell and go our separate ways. Marte's' commented that other than her sisters, I was the only male that spoke to her, and not at her.
"You weren't trying to impress yourself on me," she said.
"You needed to be heard, and it doesn't cost a thing to listen," I shrugged. "How hard can that be?"
Then she kissed me. Not suddenly, not aggressively, but simply. "Um, I wasn't intending for that."
"I was just now," she said.
"Ok," I nodded.
We walked through the campus to get to the student lounge, where we got some sandwiches and drinks. After, she asked me to walk her to her car. It was a vintage gun barrel gray Mercedes convertible.
"65 280SL," talk about being impressed. "Nice, very nice."
"I got it when I was 22," she said. "I've had it ever since."
"It's really well taken care of," I gave it the once-over, and then I paused and got a good look at her. "You were twenty-two in 1965, so that makes you thirty-nine."
"And you are, what? Thirty, thirty-one?" She mused.
"I'm twenty," I smirked. "You, yourself, don't look a day over nineteen."
***
I woke up from the dream at that point because of the pounding on my front door and the ringing of the doorbell at the same time. I jumped out of bed and made a beeline through my living room, and to my surprise, the door was already open and Tuesday was sitting on a stool in the foyer.
"Has it finally occurred to you that it was me, at U.H. Mānoa in 1982? Martes', you didn't figure out that part, too?" Tuesday asked with the calm demeanor of a Buddha.
"How are you still the same way you looked in 1982?" I was stunned, and I stumbled back a bit.
"This is why I asked you to help stop me from falling in love, and to help stop me from ruining my life. Do you understand? I fell in love with you, and because of how my life turned out and my discovery of that time-traveling house, all I've done is go back to 1982, when we first met. Reliving that moment again and again. It's ruined my life because the house lets you go back in time, but it doesn't allow you to change time. You're just there watching, and you can't do anything about anything." Tuesday cried.
"What about William and the police officers?" I asked.
"They're back," she said. "Completely unharmed and have completely forgotten about everything that's happened."
"You're eighty-two now, so how are you able to come back in your thirty-nine-year-old form?" I wanted to know because what she said just now didn't make sense.
"You're still in your dream," she said.
***
I came to, and I was lying on my couch covered in perspiration. The sun was shining in through the front door, which was wide open. I stepped out to see my neighbor, Mrs. Engle, across the street.
"I was about to check in on you," she called out. "Good thing I'm here because you don't know who might have walked into your home!"
"Mahalo, Mrs. Engle!"
In an hour, I was parked outside the phantom house, watching it intently. Getting out of my car and walking up to it, I began gathering rocks in my hand and started throwing them at the house. Each one bounced off until the front door opened and a decrepit old lady came out armed with a shotgun. She fired from the hip, which meant she had to do this before. I got hit twice, once in the gut and once on the chest. Thank goodness it was rock salt, but it still fucking hurt.
"Keep fucking around, asshole, and I'll load it with buck shots next time!" She shouted as she loaded up for one more round.
She must have been in her eighties, but it was her for sure. "Hulu? Hulumanu?"
"Yeah?" She challenged me. "Who the fuck are you? The real question is, if you know who I am, then why would you want to try and die today?"
"It's Kalani," I said while recovering from the sting of being shot with rock salt. "I met you and your sister Tuesday, right here! Years ago!"
"I don't have a sister named Tuesday!" She laughed. "Nice try!"
She lifted the shotgun and aimed for me. I ran to my car, and she fired off a round, catching me right on my ass. I went tumbling to the black top and barely made it alive to my car. I sped off, watching her load up real buckshot from her pocket. I was long gone before she could do anything. My phone pinged, and I saw it was a text from William.
"How about lunch at Anna Miller's? I'm tired of Zippy's."
"Sure," I texted back. "Meet you there."
I'm myself, but some things have changed. I know it, but I'm not going to do anything about it. I'm just going to carry on as if nothing happened and pretend that a woman named Tuesday Marshand didn't exist.
...Pau
No comments:
Post a Comment