Between Two Minds: Awakening Page 11

  “Answer me this. Why do I get the feeling like the dreams are foreign and yet so familiar to me at the same time? I mean, I know my brain is still mush right now, and I’ve got a ways to go, but the dreams almost seem like old memories…old memories that I am experiencing for the first time, as strange as that sounds. Like someone else’s memories came with mine during the migration. From one dream, I can even faintly recall smells.”

  Tony nodded as I wrapped up, obviously anxious to get in his next words.

  “It just seems like your mind is taking longer to fully reprocess than others. Like I said, it’s not unheard of, but it can be problematic if we’re not careful. That’s why I recommend going against the book and letting the dreams pass. I’ve seen some great results in the few cases I’ve seen. Full disclosure, I’m completing my proposal to conduct a voluntary study on this exact topic, but I’m not quite ready yet. I need to make sure everything is right before bringing it to the migration board.”

  “So, there’s no way that something weird happened during the migration? They didn’t stick someone else’s mind in here with me, did they?”

  Tony’s optimistic expression broke. “Look, you’ve gone through the process. You know how it works. We migrated your mind into the empty vessel you’re currently in. There’s been no precedent for migrating multiple minds into one host. That said, as you know, no migration is perfect. How a migrator’s mind gets reprocessed in its new host is guesswork at best. Yours just happens to involve some oddities causing your dreams. Fortunately, all other signs are that your migration was an absolute success, and I believe that’s what you should be focusing on. Not the one little thing that seems off.”

  Tony was right. I had always worried too much about everything in life. It was strangely refreshing that a familiar trait of mine came over in the migration, even if it was annoying. So maybe for once in my life, I could just let something go. Maybe for once in my life, I could relax.

  “They just seem so real.” The statement fell out of my mouth as I tried to let the thoughts go.

  A genuine smile came across Tony’s face. “What’s real, Ryan, is that in a couple of weeks, you’re going to literally walk out of this place a completely new person. Now I suggest you go get some rest after the group discussion and what we’ve talked about here. If you have any other questions, send me a message from your bedside terminal or drop on by.”

  With a deep breath, I decided that I would try Tony’s approach. I was going to try to let the dreams come and go.

  “Thanks, Tony. I’ve been so overwhelmed by the whole process that I’ve actually thought very little about my legs, and I should be bursting with excitement since I’ll be walking soon. I’ll try to ignore the dreams and see how it goes.” I engaged my wheelchair and approached the door.

  “Good luck with everything, Ryan. Oh, and do you mind closing my door on the way out?”

  “Sure thing.”

  As I closed the door, I was startled when a woman’s voice popped into my head.

  What the hell is wrong with you? He’s lying!

  Chapter 9:

  In Sickness and in Health

  “What the hell is wrong with you? He’s lying!” Sarah’s contempt was palpable.

  “You know we can’t pay the bills if I don’t work. We need this, Sarah.”

  She stared over her glasses at me.

  While I never got into the details about what I did, Sarah knew I worked for the Padre, and his reputation wasn’t exactly a secret. She was against the idea from the beginning, so I’d had to tell her I would quit the job when we got back on our feet to get her to even begrudgingly sign off on it.

  “Charlie, you shouldn’t be working for that guy at all. Now you’re talking about a promotion?”

  “It pays a hell of a lot better than all the other jobs. Hell, with the promotion, it’ll probably pay me as much as my last two jobs combined! And the Padre has never lied to me before.”

  “You know the bad guys they talk about in the comic books? That’s the type of guy the Padre is. This so-called promotion is not an opportunity. It’s probably a trap to lure you deeper into his organization. I’ve asked you this before: What happens when you get yourself killed or go to jail and the money stops rolling in? What then?”

  After the last job, it was difficult to argue with Sarah on any kind of moral ground.

  “Look, we need the cash from the next few jobs. Then maybe I can talk with the Padre about getting out.”

  “Do you really think he’s just going to let you walk away? After all the money he’s thrown at you? Haven’t you seen things? Haven’t you had to do things?” She shook her head and waved her hand in my face. “You know what? I don’t want to know. The less I know, the better. I just want you to be done, and I think talking to him about is a mistake. You should just stop showing up.”

  I shrugged. “I hardly know anything about what the Padre does, Sarah. Right now, I’m just a glorified driver and bodyguard. That’s it. But to your other point, things will definitely go south quick if I just stop showing up. That’s not something you do to the Padre.”

  Other than seeing the product on the last job, it wasn’t that far from the truth. Ditching the Padre without some kind of explanation was not an option.

  Sarah glared at me for a moment and then broke into a coughing fit. I reached for her, but she forcibly pulled away. Shoving her hand into her pants pocket, she retrieved her inhaler and forced it into her mouth, squeezed hard, and inhaled deeply. Gasping for air, she took another hit. With deep, wheezing breaths, she finally fell into my arms and cried. I had had experience with her condition before we met, but that didn’t make it any easier to see my wife as sick as she was. It made it harder.

  “Sarah, I wish I could make this all go away, but you remember what the doctors said at the last checkup. They were hopeful for us. I’m hopeful.”

  She gathered herself and sat up. “Charlie, right now, my top priority should be keeping me and the kids alive and healthy. Instead, I’m worrying each night what shape you’ll be in when you get home. Or if you’ll be coming home at all.”

  “Sarah, you have to—” I jolted back as a flying minidrone buzzed past my ear. I quickly regained focus as it turn back toward me and hovered into position next to Sarah’s head. Its tiny lens zoomed in on my face. “Lucy! How many times do I have to tell you not to fly that damn thing near my head!”

  Sighing, I walked toward the hallway and stopped at the first door on the left.

  Like a giant bumblebee in the summer, the drone followed behind annoyingly close. Its buzz was right in my ear as I tapped on her door.

  “Can I come in?”

  A faint voice replied, “Are you and Mom getting a divorce?”

  “What? No! Lucy, I’m coming in.”

  I opened the door and stepped in. Every time I entered that room, I hoped to see something new, different, and better. But every time—every goddamned time—it was my baby girl just lying there, bedridden, with machines breathing for her. The drone buzzed past me to its charging pad, and I took the seat next to her bed. I had sat in that seat countless times for countless hours, and when Lucy slept, had quietly cried countless tears. But that time, I didn’t say a word for several moments and just watched Lucy as she fiddled with the controller of the drone. Like all kids, she was amazing. But she was my oldest, so there would always be a special place for her in my heart.

  “Lucy, I’m sorry you heard us yelling. I’m sorry I yelled at you. Your mother and I are just trying to figure out the best way to keep the house together while I’m working these weird hours. Like we talked about before, sometimes adults get stressed out and we yell, but your mother and I are very happy. We love each other, or else we wouldn’t care enough to fight. We love you.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “D
ad, you know, I only fly Drony because I can’t get up and see what’s going on like I used to.”

  “I know, sweetie. Just try to keep it away from Daddy’s ears because I can get jumpy. Now, how are you feeling today, Princess?”

  “Some pain from yesterday’s treatment, but nothing I can’t handle. I’m strong. I can take it. Right, Dad?”

  “You’re damn right. Hopefully, the doctors get you better soon so you don’t have to be strong so often. Once you get better, we’re going to take you camping like we used to do when you were little. How’s that sound?”

  “That’s sounds great, Dad. I can’t wait.”

  I looked at the monitor next to her bed and saw similar numbers as I had the last week or so. They weren’t great, but I had seen worse. I tapped the button to administer her medicines, then leaned in and kissed her forehead.

  “I will check on you later, honey. Get some rest. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Daddy.”

  I got up, walked back to the hallway, and gently pulled the door shut behind me. I went back out to the living room, but Sarah had already gone to bed. Back to the hallway, I walked past Lucy’s room and stopped at the last door on the left.

  It took everything I had not to completely lose it as I opened that door. There was my little boy, and his monitor wasn’t nearly as optimistic as Lucy’s. I sat down next to him and felt his face. It was cold, but that was normal. The nurse who visited the other day said Joey was doing okay. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was just trying to make us feel better. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was just clinging to life, and the machines were doing most of the work. He hadn’t woken up in almost two weeks, and it didn’t seem like that would change anytime soon. I never felt good after seeing my sick kids, but something about that night really moved me.

  I had to agree with Sarah. The job paid great, but I wasn’t spending any time with my family in their time of need. They weren’t getting any better, so maybe it was time to just rip the Band-Aid off and have a conversation with the Padre. It wouldn’t be easy, and he might not like it. But it was probably—no, it was definitely the right thing to do.

  I left Joey with a couple of tears running down my face, but otherwise kept my composure. I had cried enough, and it never did any good anyway. I just wished there was something more I could do, but the longer they were ill, the more powerless I felt.

  Walking into our room, I found Sarah on our bed doing a breathing treatment. I sat down beside her and rubbed her back. She resisted a little but not enough to signal that I should stop.

  She put away the treatment machine as she spoke. “This isn’t the first time in our relationship that I have had to wonder each night whether you’d be coming home or not. When you were in Pakistan, not a day passed that I didn’t pray you were okay. I just thought that once you got discharged, we were past that. We have kids now. Sick kids! I’m sick! I know these treatments and medicines are expensive, but if we lost you, none of it would matter anymore.”

  “I think you’re right. I’ve been so preoccupied with bringing in money that I’ve neglected the kids and you. I have one more job that I already committed to. After tomorrow night, I’m done and we’ll live off of our savings until I land something legit.”

  A scowl seized her face, and she fired back at me. “Fine. But that’s another night your ass can sleep on the couch. Every minute I’m close to you is another minute it hurts thinking about losing you. Now I need to get some rest.”

  Her words stabbed me in the heart, but I knew she was protecting herself. Still, I was pissed things had gotten as far as they had and I couldn’t fix them fast enough. Leaving the room, I skulked down the hall, glancing at my kids’ doors as I made my way out to the living room. Needing to blow off steam, I headed for the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Beta Queen, my favorite beer. Cracking off the cap, I headed out to the balcony to catch the cool breeze. I plopped down on the old lawn chair and reached into my shirt pocket for the pack of menthols. Shaking the pack until I found a winner, I retrieved it with my mouth. After snapping my Zippo alight and puffing hard on the cigarette, I sloppily slouched into the chair.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  In an instant, the exhale made the world livable again.

  The subtle buzz of the city crept into my ears, and that was always calming. The white noise from the cars, occasional horn honking, and even the sirens from emergency vehicles had become a normal and expected din that reminded me I was home. As I tried to relax, my mind wandered back to high school and meeting Sarah.

  It was beginning of freshman year at Frantz High where Sarah and I had seventh period together, Spanish One. With brains to match her beauty, she was top of the class and the head sophomore cheerleader. It was all the motivation I needed to ditch the school band I had been in all summer and try out for every sport. It always seemed a little creepy in retrospect, but at least I had good intentions, and with my home life, I needed every excuse to get out of the house. Fortunately, I turned out to be quite the athlete. Halfway through the football season, I was promoted to junior varsity, and able to score touchdowns against the bigger, older kids. On a particularly amazing play where I broke three tackles for a score, I ran over to Sarah and gave her the ball. I didn’t know who was more embarrassed at the time: her when I did it, or me when I was penalized for delay of game for giving away the game ball.

  Regardless, it got her attention in a big way, and she approached me after the game.

  “Hey!”

  Shocked she had acknowledged my existence, I almost didn’t respond. “Uh, yeah?”

  “You think you’re hot shit, but you’re just a little boy with a big head. You ever try a stunt like that again, and I’ll have my boyfriend beat your ass.”

  Somehow I knew she was just trying to save face with her friends more than scold me. Sure enough, the next school day, I was emptying my cafeteria tray when she appeared out of nowhere.

  People called me by my last name back then, and Sarah let it ring with ire in her voice. “Reno!”

  “What now? Didn’t you chew me out enough last night?”

  She pointed at my chest but never broke eye contact with me. “You got some nerve, embarrassing me in front of the whole school like that.”

  Without hesitation, I told her the truth. “I just wanted you to know how I felt about you since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

  She wasn’t amused, as was apparent by her eye roll. “Is that some kind of cheap pickup line that you use on all the girls?”

  “No, just you. I mean. It’s not cheap. It’s the truth.” Then the dumbest grin stretched across her face.

  “Well, then, if you’re so into me, kiss me in that corner over there.”

  Taken by her forwardness, something didn’t add up. “Won’t your boyfriend mind?”

  I didn’t think it was possible, but her grin got even dumber. “You didn’t let the defense stop you last night, so why would you let a boyfriend who may or may not exist get in the way?”

  Anyone could have figured out how that turned out. We both got suspended for making out in the hallway and they moved us to separate Spanish classes. To my dismay, we never did have another class together. Regardless, from that day on, we were inseparable. High school went by in a flash, and she was ready to graduate. We had a great plan that she would choose a college where I could get a scholarship to play ball. She went to a state school, so I thought my grades wouldn’t be such a big deal. And that was when the simpler times ended.

  I fell behind in many classes, in spite of all the hard work I put in. I couldn’t figure out why since I was otherwise a fairly smart person. It wasn’t until the middle of senior year, when one of the guidance counselors suggested on a whim that I take a random test, and I discovered that I had a mild form of dyslexia. But the other thing I didn’t anticipate was just how depressed I would get
my senior year without Sarah. And jealous. I was certain she would find some college dude who was better than me, even though she assured me she never would. I still tried to work my tail off so I could get into her school, and was hopeful all the way up to my final report card.

  GPA of 1.9.

  It was enough to graduate, but exactly .6 points off from being eligible for even the university’s remediation program for athletes. It was exactly .1 point from being eligible to play for a junior college. Crushed didn’t even begin to describe how I felt the first time I looked at the paper. That was quickly followed by anger. But shortly after, I realized I had to make a decision that would be the best for me and Sarah, and so I did. I waited until the summer when we were together to break the news to her about my grades. She had the same emotional wave as I did, miserably disappointed at first and then pissed off at me for not trying hard enough. She even told me that I had screwed up everything. But she quickly apologized and said we would figure it out. Then I told her how I had figured it out for us, and she wasn’t very happy.

  “The marines? Are you crazy?”

  “Sarah, I’ve been doing some soul-searching. Clearly, books aren’t for me, and there’s no way I’m staying at home even a month after graduation. The marines will keep me in shape, and I’ll learn a lot of skills. After four years, I can come home and land a decent job. Lots of places hire veterans. And then we can be together.”

  “So that’s it? It’s going to be all roses and sunshine in the marines? Charlie, you can get yourself killed! There were people all over my campus protesting our involvement in the India/Pakistan conflict, and yet troops keep getting sent over.”

  “Those kids are just scared of fighting for something bigger than themselves.”