Life Shift (17 page)

“You’ll both fix the universes separately. That’s amazing!” He looked at Damien impressed. “How did you think of that?”

Damien looked at Christine. “It’s amazing what you can think of when you run the risk of losing something you love more than life itself.”

She smiled at him, but also took a quick glance at Matt. He still would not meet her eyes. She was stood in her living room with the two men she loved more than anything in life apart from her daughter, two men she’d known for years, two men who knew her better than anyone had ever known her in her life. Suddenly she felt overwhelmed by it all. Her legs felt weak. She sat down slowly on the sofa. She felt a hand pat her on the shoulder and looked up to see Jim. He knew how hard this was for her, how hard it was for them all.

Then it dawned on her. The full implications of everything Matt was saying, everything Matt was offering to do. She looked at him.

“Matt,” she said. “This means you’ll be fixed in that universe. What about your wife and child?” (And what about me, she almost asked.)

“I’ll still be here with them,” he said. “And it will be a full version of me then, not the shell they’ve had recently. But it won’t be this consciousness. That will be there. With you and Teresa,” he added.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Damien flinch at this, but she pressed on. She had to.

“And that means my consciousness will stay here, in this universe?”

“Yes,” he said. “You’ll fix this one. But the other Christine, she’ll be full and complete again.”

“And a good mother to Teresa.” She had meant it to come out as a statement but it came out more as a question.

“Yes a good mother to Teresa, the best mother a child could ever hope for.” He smiled at her. She could tell he wanted to come to her but was holding back in front of Damien. “You’ve always been a wonderful mother Christine,” he said to her.

“Have I?” she asked.

“You know you have,” he said, “Remember.”

And she did remember. She remembered everything from that other universe and the life they had shared. She remembered all of Teresa’s birthdays, her first steps, her first words, her first day in school. She remembered the feel of her and the smell of her. She remembered what it was to be a mother and she felt thankful that she’d had a chance to know this, however brief it had been.

She looked over at Damien and she saw how sad he was for her. He knew what she was giving up. She wanted to tell him not to be sad. She wanted to tell him that she was happy that she’d had a chance to know what it was like to be a mother, but that she was so thankful and grateful that he was in her life, that she loved him. She wanted to reassure him but couldn’t do so here, not yet, not in front of Matt.

Suddenly the front door opened and in walked Mark.

She stood up. “Do you have both drugs?” she asked.

“Yes I have them both,” he said. Suddenly he looked at Matt. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said to him, reaching out his hand.

Matt shook it. “I’m Matt,” he said, “Christine’s…friend. I’m here to help.”

Mark looked at Christine, then at Jim and Damien, confused.

Quickly Christine explained everything to him. He looked amazed and excited as she spoke.

“That could work,” he said when she had finished speaking, “That could really work!”

 
“But you have to tell Matt the name of the drug, the antidote drug,” said Christine, “He needs to be able to get it in the other universe.” Then a thought occurred to her. “How will you remember that you need to get the antidote?” Christine asked Matt. “These days we seem to be forgetting everything from this life once we’re in the other life.”

“That’ll be down to the dosage I give to induce the shift,” said Mark. “The reason you’ve been forgetting everything is that the pull of the other universe is getting stronger. I will give Matt enough of a dose to induce a shift but he should still remember everything. At least until he gets hold of the other drug.”

“Are you sure about this Mark?” asked Jim, “You’ve only ever trialled this on the one patient and even then the circumstances were completely different.”

“I know what I’m doing,” said Mark dismissively. Jim looked at Christine as if asking her to step in and say something, but all she could do was look at Matt. If he was willing to do this then they had to do it, for Teresa,

As if reading her mind Matt spoke up, “I want to do this, for our daughter,” he said, staring at Christine with that familiar intensity. She felt her heart lurch. Then she felt a hand in hers. Without looking down she knew it was Damien's and she felt safe and supported again. Even through this he was here for her.

“Okay, let’s do it,” she said, and they got down to work.

 
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Mark made Matt sit on the sofa. He placed in his ear the same device Christine had wore the night before and affixed to his chest the second device. He then reached into his bag and pulled out a syringe.

“Is that it?” asked Matt.

“Yes, this is it. It will induce the shift,” said Mark.

“How do you know the dose is right?” asked Christine anxiously, “How do you know that he will remember what he needs to do in the other place?”

“The dose is right,” said Mark firmly. He looked at Matt. “You know what you need to do there, right? You know what you need to say to the doctor and you know the prescription he needs to give you?”

“I know,” said Matt. He started to roll up his sleeve. Then he looked at Christine. That look. Always that look.
 

“Can you all leave?” she said, not taking her eyes off Matt, not daring to look at Damien, “I just need a moment with Matt.”

“Of course,” said Jim. She heard them all move behind her but she did not look around. She only looked at Matt. For this moment she would allow herself only to have eyes for him.

They left and the door closed. She knelt down beside Matt. He put his arms around her and she buried her head in his lap and started to cry, hard sobs, sobs that shook her body.

“Ssh ssh,” he said into her hair, but when she looked up she could see the tears in his eyes.

“This is the last time it will be us,” she said.

“I know, I know,” he replied.

“But you’ll be there with her won’t you?” she said, tears falling.

“Yes I’ll be there too. And I’ll be with you, Christine, just…”

“Just another universe’s version of me,” she finished bleakly.

“But it will be you and we’ll live a life together. We’ll do everything we ever planned. Remember all the travelling we talked about before Teresa was born?”

She smiled. She did remember. They had wanted to visit two countries a year. She had even drawn up a schedule.
 

“Will you stick to the schedule?” she asked.

“Of course,” he smiled. “How could we do it any other way?”

“I’m glad you spoke to me in class that day,” she said suddenly.

“Me too Chris, me too,” he pulled her closer to him and kissed her deeply. “It was the best thing I ever did in my life.”

“What do you think this version of you will know when you’ve jumped?” she asked after awhile.

He looked away before speaking, then finally said, “I don’t know. I don’t think he will remember it. He’ll only remember my wife and son.”

She coloured. She couldn’t help it. His wife and son. He was giving up so much for her and Teresa. But then again he was saving the world for them too. And what was she giving up? Him. Teresa. All of it just to be sure Teresa had a proper life with a proper mother. And to keep Damien.

She put her head in
 
his lap again but this time she did not cry. There was no point. There was too much to mourn. Too much already to miss. Even this Christmas with Teresa was lost to her. Everything with Teresa. Seeing her grow up. First boyfriend, graduation, university, marriage, children. All lost to her.

But this way would at least give Teresa the best chance of having
 
all those things with a mother fully there, fully alive, fully devoted to her as she knew she would be.

She looked up at Matt and saw him staring at her with such love and devotion it made her heart lurch. She would miss him. What would happen later, after he jumped, and she saw him walking around in work, not knowing properly who she was and what they had shared? How could she live like that? She blanched. She didn’t think she could. She hoped over time she’d forget, or the knowledge of why they had done it would take over – anything to make the pain she could already see coming her way finally go. But she didn’t know if it would ever go. Pain like that leaves its mark forever.

They kissed once more, both of them knowing it was the last time.
 

“I’m ready,” said Christine when they parted. He just nodded. She went out to the passageway and called the others back in. Again she could not look at Damien. Not now. Not yet.

In the end it was easy – too easy. Mark injected the drug into Matt’s arm. Damien held Christine tight. She kept back the tears. For a second it looked as if nothing had happened and then suddenly his eyes flickered twice and closed. He was unconscious.

Jim and Mark studied the reader to which the devices on Matt were already attached. Before the drug was injected the usual lines and pattern had shown but now, as expected, they had disappeared. There was nothing to indicate Matt was alive, apart from his breathing which was still deep and regular.

Mark was already removing the vial from the syringe and inserting another.
 

“This is for you Chris,” he said, “Though Matt will get it in drug form on the other side you need this here. It will stop you from shifting.”

“Okay,” she said, rolling up her sleeve and offering her arm to him. The needle was cold and sharp when it entered her arm, and the liquid injected was icy.

“Do you feel anything?” asked Jim.

“No nothing at all,” she replied, but she knew she was lying. She might not feel it physically but she was empty and bereft. She would never see that other world again, never see Teresa, never know Matt as she had known him there. She felt lost.

“It will be okay Christine,” said a voice to the side of her. Damien. She looked up at him and he was looking at her with such love, as if he knew everything that was going on inside her and amazingly, given what she was feeling, he understood it all, forgave it all and was still here for her, supporting her. But before she could say anything to him she heard a movement on the sofa. They all turned to look. It was Matt. He was waking up. Automatically she looked at the reader. It was still showing a flat line.
 
She knew time worked differently in the other world. She did not know how long it would take for Matt to get the antidote. For now she was certain he hadn’t done so. There was still no line where healthy spikes should have been.

“Where am I?” he asked sleepily.

They all looked at each other. Not one of them had thought how they would handle this. Then Jim stepped forward.

“You were taken ill in work Matt,” he explained, “And Christine brought you home. Her…um…brother here Mark is a doctor and she thought he could help.”

“I see,” said Matt. He looked at each of them in turn. When his gaze met Christine’s he hesitated but then moved on. After a second he looked back at her.
 

“Oh yes, I know you from work don’t I?” he said.

“Yes,” she said stiffly, not trusting herself to say anything more.
 

“I feel odd,” Matt said, sinking back into the sofa. She took a quick glance at the reader. There was still no line. Curiously, despite herself, she looked at Matt. He looked back at her but there was nothing. It wasn’t just the absence of the usual intense Matt look, the look she loved. She expected that. The Matt that loved her had jumped. But now she saw what really went when someone jumped. It was not just the consciousness. No - something else went too. It was the soul after all, the life force, it really had gone. Her Matt had gone. His soul had disappeared. There was no light behind his eyes. And to most people he could live, walk, and talk like that and no one would notice, but not her. He was gone and she could see that in an instant.

She looked at Damien. Had she looked like this to him when she shifted? Had he seen this? He looked back at her for a second and then slowly, imperceptibly nodded his head. She felt sick. How could he have lived like that? How could he have stood it? Then she knew. He had stood it because he was waiting in faith, waiting for the light to come back. He hadn’t even known what was going on - in his view she was working too hard and drinking too much. He had known nothing about the other world (and when he found out he hadn’t believed it). But still he’d hung on, in faith, waiting for her to return.

A sharp piercing noise brought her out of her reverie. For a second she thought she was about to shift too, but then she remembered the drug and remembered all that was all over. She looked at Matt. He was looking down at the laptop-like device beside him. The noise was coming from the
 
reader. It was beeping and, in time with the beeps, large dancing spikes were filling the screen.
 

“He did it,” breathed Mark excitedly. “He’s taken the drug.”

She looked at Mark and then at Jim. Both looked amazed. She turned to Damien and saw the stunned look on his face. She didn’t know what to do or think. Damien suddenly pulled her into a hug and buried his face into her shoulder. He whispered in her ear, “She has a mother now Christine, you’re there in that life, fully there for her now, you don’t have to worry anymore.” She hugged him back, grateful for his words, grateful for him caring about a life that wasn’t shared with him and a child that wasn’t his.

Matt then spoke. “What’s going on? Why am I attached to this thing?”

Mark rushed over and started to unplug him. “We were…um…just monitoring your vitals,” he said.

Christine looked at Matt. His eyes were different now. She could see that something was back. He reminded her of the Matt she used to know, the colleague she knew on nodding terms only, the person she used to talk to briefly in meetings. She felt a pang of something – loss, hurt, regret, something. Her real Matt was gone. She knew that. The Matt she had married and loved, the Matt with whom she had had a child. But somewhere in another universe, maybe right this second, she was wrapping her arms around him and Teresa. Maybe. The hope and belief that this was the case was the only thing she could hold onto.