Copula Chronicles: The Complete Collection: Origin, Descend, Ascend, Legacy Page 3

  The pulsing, vibrating waves quicken then space out with a pause here and there. It all seems foreign until the vibrations turn into echoing voices.

  People are passing on either side of me as I slowly stumble along. One man bumps into me. “Soymilk, Tums and meat tenderizer. I don’t’ know why she needs soymilk. Just get the regular crap.”

  “Hey, did you just say something to me?”

  My question is met with an awkward stare, as he looks me up and down, then moves on, shaking his head. Great, even strangers think I’m batshit crazy. Still heavy on my feet and stumbling, the echoing continues in my head as more people pass me.

  “Tommy needs to finish his project by Saturday.”

  “Why is she being so unreasonable?”

  “She’s here. We have to get her now!”

  Shit! It’s that same voice from the bookstore! I spin around, searching for the possessor of the voice.

  “Grab her!”

  As I turn around, my hands are up and ready for whatever is going to attack.

  “Jesca!”

  I need to get out of sight is my first thought.

  I search the line of stores to my left, looking for one that might still be open. Seeing an “Open” sign, I right myself for as long as I can to get me to the door. Opening it and closing it swiftly behind me, a cringing cowbell above the door is my introduction to the woman standing behind the counter.

  “Well, hello sweetheart. Grab yourself a table, hun. I’ll be right with you.”

  I’m not sure if it’s the pleasant voice this woman has or the safety in the silence with no humming, no vibrating, and no echoing voices, but I breathe out deeply feeling a calmness wash over me. The click and slide of the jukebox to my left pulling its next selection is the only sound. The Doors “People are Strange” begins to play in the background as I walk to an open booth making sure to face the front door.

  The waitress that greeted me, Sally, brings me a menu and glass of water. “I’ll give you a few minutes honey.”

  I want to return her smile, but the fear and anxiety is too much for me to overcome right now.

  In the momentary absence of me guarding the door, the cowbell above it sounds. My eyes dart over to see Professor Kahn taking his jacket off. I hold my menu up high and duck behind it, only the tops of my eyes peeking above it, definitely creeped out by seeing him twice in the same day. I try to shake off the strange feeling of coincidence.

  He looks through the serving window at the cook. “Hey there, Stan. Slow tonight?”

  Stan comments, making small talk while I look beyond Professor Kahn, anticipating the owner of the voice haunting me to come barreling in any minute.

  “Jesca?”

  Well damn, so much for hiding. “Oh, Professor Kahn. Hi.”

  I paste on a smile, while my attention bounces back and forth between him and the door behind him. He starts to walk toward me.

  “Ezra, please. We’re not on campus. And even if we were, I’d feel more like myself if you called me by my first name. Twice in the same day, huh?”

  “Yeah, sort of strange,” I say under my breath.

  Stopping in front of my table, he looks down at my menu curiously. I do the same and notice that I have completely peeled the edge of the lamination off the menu. “Oh, shit.”

  “Oh don’t worry about it; they make new menus every week. Perks of being a small-town diner I suppose. What brings you here? This is my hotspot in town.”

  “I was walking from the bookstore where I work and got hungry.”

  Ezra shifts his satchel to his other arm. “This is a great deli. They’ve the best Ruben sandwich in town, and their peach cobbler is amazing. Are you meeting someone? You keep looking at the door.”

  It must be obvious that I’m waiting for someone. “What? Oh. No, it’s just me.”

  He hesitates for a second before asking, “Can I join you? Well I mean, unless you’d like to be alone.”

  He seems eager for company. Plus, he could be a sufficient shield if some stalking freak were to come through that door ready to attack me.

  “No, I don’t want to sit alone.”

  “Everything all right?”

  Feeling less vulnerable by his presence already, I focus on the menu the best I can. “Yep. Just fine.”

  Sally, the waitress, comes back around to our table. “Mr. Kahn! I was wondering when you were going to come in this evening.”

  Wait, did she just wink at him before looking at me?

  “Are you one of his student’s, sweetheart?”

  Ezra responds before I can. “She seemed lonely over here, and I thought I’d keep her company. Plus, I don’t think she’s been here before. Have you Jesca?”

  They both look at me, waiting for an answer. “No, I haven’t.”

  Ezra looks up at Sally. “Looks like we’ll have to introduce her to your amazing cobbler tonight, Sally”

  Sally giggles and puts her hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “Oh Mr. Kahn, you’re just saying that.”

  Grinning from ear to ear, Ezra continues to praise her baking skills.” No ma’am Sally; yours is the best I’ve ever had.”

  Sally’s hand still rests on his shoulder a little too comfortably—geesh, touchy much?

  All of a sudden, Ezra shoots me a glare, his smile completely gone for a second. It’s almost as if he heard my thoughts and reacted to it. Ezra shoots me a look just as my thought sprung from my mind. I shrink back in my seat. Sally looks over at me with soft eyes. “First let’s get some food in her. Sweetheart, what would you like to eat?”

  I look over at Ezra carefully, then down at the menu. “The Ruben and peach cobbler, please.”

  Sally gazes back down at Ezra to take his order. “Good selection. I’ll have the same.”

  He hands her his menu and I do the same. She takes mine and winks at me. “Coming right up, chickadees.”

  Maybe she likes to wink or something.

  “She does like to wink; all the time actually.”

  Ezra’s response to my thoughts is a little eerie, but I laugh it off.

  He folds his hands together, sits back and sighs deeply. “Is the new semester stressing you out?”

  “It’s fine. I just have been—I don’t know. It’s not a big deal.”

  I shake my head, not wanting to get into it, but the more I stall, the more I want to unleash and vent. I look up from my fidgety hands to see if he’s dismissed my comment. He is listening intently, waiting for me to continue. I lean forward and lower my voice. “Everything isn’t fine. I’m tired, fidgety and anxious and I shouldn’t be unraveling in front of you like this.”

  “Why not? Try me.”

  His invitation unravels my thoughts as I start to speak uncontrollably. “I have these dreams or nightmares rather, about this dark thing stalking me. It’s like a shadow or something. I think its following me.”

  Feeling embarrassed by what I know can’t be possible, I shake my head and look down. “I know that can’t be possible—a shadow following me. It’s insane, right? But, I’m feeling things outside of the nightmares now. Seeing this dark figure, hearing it whisper to me out in the real world.”

  I glance up at him to check his response as he looks back at the door swiftly, then returns to me. “Something is following you right now?”

  How serious he seems to take it makes me nervous all of a sudden, leaving me second-guessing my telling him. “Yes, I mean no.”

  “Is that why you hauled ass out of the woods earlier today? You looked like you were running from something,” he says putting two and two together.

  I shake my head realizing I am involving him way to deeply. “The point is that I know they’re just hallucinations. They aren’t real, but I don’t know why the hell I’m experiencing this now. Weeks ago, everything was fine, normal, averag
e. Average Jesca. Now I’m hallucinating due to lack of sleep!”

  “Because of the nightmares,” he adds.

  I look up at him concerned for the level of crazy he is pegging me with. “Yes, because of the nightmares.”

  Sally comes back with a glass of water for Ezra, and I clam up until she’s gone. Seeing that he hasn’t totally dismissed me and feeling this strange sensation he wants me to go on, I continue. “When I saw you earlier by the lake, I saw this, this—”

  “Dark shadow,” he finished my statement.

  “Yes, a hallucination of one.”

  I shake my head, trying to shake off how crazy I sound, but you can’t shake off this kind of crazy. “I’m just afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?” he asks probing.

  “Afraid of losing my mind.”

  The silence between us as my tone takes on one of desperation is heavy in the air. I don’t realize I’m actually crying until a tear slides down my cheek. Shit, this looks great! I’m losing my fucking mind in front of my professor. To solidify my mortification, he pulls a napkin from the dispenser on the table and hands it to me. Feeling the water works still spilling over, I take it from him and mumble a thank you.

  He watches me closely as I wipe my nose. “You aren’t losing your mind Jesca. I promise you.”

  I try to laugh off breaking down, but it comes out as a half-cry half-snort. “I don’t know why I just unloaded all that shit on you.”

  Ezra sympathetic gaze, suddenly changes to one of neutrality, which is something expectant of a professor and student. “No apology necessary. What can I do to help?”

  Noticing the shift in his concern, I reign in my emotions and clear my throat. “Can we just pretend that I didn’t just unload my manic situation on you and start over with something more um—academic?”

  School is a safe topic. No more emotions.

  Ezra nods, seeming to agree with my suggestion. “So, what’re you taking in my department this year? I haven’t seen you around the building much.”

  “I’m taking Quantum Mechanics.”

  Ezra’s eyes light up. “Have you heard of the Einstein-Rosen bridge theory?”

  I look at him with a vague nod having not gotten deep enough into the class to discuss it. It was referenced last semester though. He continues speaking on the topic while drying the sweat from his glass of water with a napkin. “The theory is about folding space and time, allowing a wormhole to open to other worlds. Maybe even open to other universes.”

  The direction of the conversation brings out the skeptic in me. “Wormholes to other worlds? Universes?”

  He pulls another napkin from the dispenser with one hand and produces a pen from his shirt pocket with the other. As he writes, he speaks, “Imagine a point A and point B on this napkin. Point A is one edge of the napkin, representing world or universe A. Point B is the other edge of the napkin, representing world or universe B. If I fold this napkin in half, folding time and space with negative energy and mass, that will create a dense weight on world or universe A. The weight will be so strong that it’ll pierce the napkin—space and time—to the other side, connecting world or universe A and B.”

  He folds the napkin in half, and then pierces it with the pen, holding it up between us. “There, a traverse wormhole. A short-cut folding the distance between two worlds, or two universes.”

  He glances at me. “Whichever you might want to believe. It could work.”

  His confidence is puzzling. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

  I can’t deny I’m curious though. “But isn’t it impossible to find negative mass anywhere on Earth. Even engineering it has posed roadblocks. How can a wormhole be made large enough to fit a human, let alone an human? It’s been attempted and failed.”

  “That’s where Einstein, Rosen and all of the other theorists have left us, isn’t it?”

  I’m unsure of what he is getting at. “Are you asking me?”

  He shakes his head, seeming to deny what I’m saying. “The theories have been expanded. Theorists have found plausible ways of achieving negative mass great enough to increase the capacity of a wormhole exponentially.”

  I know Professor Kahn is a brilliant mind, but he must understand that I can’t take his word for it alone. “What are they? Where is their research? Their results?”

  He ruffles his hair and blows out his lower lip before smiling, having seen my excitement on the topic. “Well, that’s a conversation we can have another time.”

  Just as I’m about to probe more, Sally walks up to our table with two plates in her hands.

  As Ezra takes a bite of his sandwich, I mull over our conversation, not letting it go yet. My fascination with science is definitely something I like to nerd out on. Always has been. My focus gets Ezra’s attention as he speaks through a mouth full of food. “Eat up.”

  The sandwich is fabulous and Ezra was right about the cobbler. It definitely is spectacular. Suddenly, my cell phone vibrates on the table. It’s my mom.

  Ezra eyes my phone. “Do you need to get that?”

  “It’s just my mom checking on me.”

  Ezra looks at me with a sympathetic gaze again. “Your mom sounds like good people, checking in on life’s intensities and all.”

  “Yeah.”

  He takes a drink of his water, and then sets it back down. “Your parents want to do what’s best for you, just in case something—were to happen.”

  He suddenly drops his gaze and takes his determined statement with him, as if it’s put some kind of burden on him.

  “Yeah, well, I think what I’m dealing with is beyond what they can handle. Don’t get me wrong, talking to them is a relief, but it isn’t my idea of a long-term solution. I keep falling back into this—this rut.”

  I scoop up the last bit of vanilla ice cream and peach chunks on my plate, savoring the last bite. “You were right. This is a damn good cobbler.”

  Ezra stops eating his cobbler and studies me. “You haven’t done anything to help yourself, Jes. Look, have you tried some relaxation techniques? Imagery, to help you through the stress? Do you have some chamomile tea? It helps relax you.”

  Did he just call me Jes? It’s unsettling to hear him call me by the nickname given by my family and friends. I scoot back in my seat, putting more distance between us. “I don’t do tea.”

  My shift away not fazing him, he carries on. “You’ve heard of imagery as a relaxation technique?”

  Still distracted by his use of my nickname so casually, and kind of put off by his condescending tone, questioning my knowing what imagery is, I keep my answer clipped as I look at the time on my phone. “Yeah, I have. Um I really should get going.”

  He doesn’t seem to take the clue as he continues to explain how it might help. My phone suddenly vibrates and I don’t think I have ever been happier to see an interrupting text from my Mom.

  Call us back honey.

  Ezra is still talking about relaxation and the Chamo-whatever tea. “Sorry, I need to call my mom back. I should be going.”

  As I scoot out of the booth, I dig in my purse for my wallet to pay my portion, when Ezra interrupts. “No, please. It’s my treat.”

  I nod gratefully, but warily. I don’t like others taking care of my bill. “Thanks.”

  I rise up from the table just as Sally comes over and eyes my empty plates. “I see you liked the cobbler.”

  I smile and nod, backing away from them slowly. “Yes, thank you so much.”

  As I turn toward the door, my gaze and mind now focused on what may be waiting to attack on the other side, Ezra calls after me. “Remember the tea.”

  Without looking back at him, I speak, “Yep, I’ll remember. Thanks.”

  “Jesca.”

  Ezra calling my name seems to demand my attention suddenly. I look back at him with
my hand on knob of the door.

  He hesitates for a moment before saying, “Don’t make your mom wait. She won’t give up on texting you until you respond, believe me.”

  Believe him? While I agree with him, his discussing my mother’s persistence as if he knows her, dishes out another serving of creepy. I nod slowly and open the door to leave.

  Even though I’m tripping over Ezra’s comment about mom and him using my nickname, I take his advice and stop at the market down the street to pick up tea. Chamomile tea, that’s what it was! Plus, getting in off the street once more before the walk home was intentional just in case anyone might be following me. On my quick walk home, I call Mom back.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Honey! I was starting to worry. You didn’t call me back right away.”

  “I was eating dinner and had to stop at the market for some Chamomile tea.”

  “That’s good for relaxation. Oh honey, I talked to Elicia yesterday. She said you weren’t feeling good. Needed to go home from work.”

  “I’m fine mom. I just worked too hard.”

  “A touch of milk and a little sugar in the tea and you’ll sleep like a lamb.”

  Gross. I look around me, feeling surprisingly calm. No sounds, no humming, no voices. “I’m almost home. Is Dad around?”

  The click of the other phone line being picked up sounds. “Jes how are you?”

  “Hi Dad.”

  “Are you sleeping?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Not entirely true, but it was for today anyway.

  “Nightmares?”

  No comment on that one. “Dad, I’m good. Promise.”

  “Okay, okay. Just checking. You take it easy,” he says with concern.

  Mom chimes in. “Always pushing yourself so hard Jes.”

  Dad defends me with a slight warning in his voice for mom’s comment. “Delilah, leave her.”