Purgatorium (26 page)

Gabriel
appears behind me, almost spooking me half to death. I turn around and look at him. My self-image reflects in the cornea of
Gabriel
’s half-crazed eyes.! He looks down at my accomplishment.

“Good job!” says Gabriel. “That’s using your brain! You think you just solved a kid’s toy, but really it’s much more complicated than that. It’s about getting your brain muscles going so you can memorize where you need to be and at what time. Learning the reaper’s mind-set on everything they can throw at you. Knowing your demon and finding out its weakness. All these things you need to accomplish if you are ever going to breathe the fresh air again. We need to start you at the hardest part first. That is learning how to take control of your memories. You see, when you first enter your memories, you have control of your thought process for a short amount of time, correct? You see, that’s your brain adjusting for control. Your thoughts get outweighed by your intentional thoughts, and there’s only room for one. It’s like your thoughts are fighting themselves. In one corner, you have what you’re feeling and thinking right at that moment. In the other corner, you have what’s real, what actually happened, what you’re supposed to be feeling and thinking at that moment in your life. You’ll need to learn how to fight those controlled feelings if you’re ever going to survive this place. After figuring that challenge out, then you’re going to have to stop and not listen to the music. Get me?”

I listen closely but get agitated at all the things I have to do in such little time. Why do I need to stop listening to the music? It’s the only thing that is actually giving me answers to my life! I can’t just stop now! Everything starts to pile up in my brain as Gabriel slaps me out of it!

“Now listen to me very closely! I shouldn’t be saying this but I feel you need some help in this department. On the day of your Sabbath, the song that reminds you of the coffee shop and the first meeting with Madi will be replaying. You have to study and remember every move you made in that memory. If you already know what’s going to happen, it makes it easier for your thoughts to take control of the situation. Once in control, you can force yourself to stop listening to the music. It will require pushing your brain to the limit while being timed in the process. Let’s say you get on this subway car at 30 minutes from your apartment. The music starts to play, what do you do? If you let the music take you, then your mind may be gone, but your soulful body stays right here. The reapers will come and snatch you up in a heartbeat. When you learn how to take back control of yourself in your memories, then you will have more control over being sent back into those memories. We need all the control and time we can get if you are going to win this thing. But we have to play it safe, because it doesn’t like change. And I don’t mean the reapers.”

Gabriel
, his face grown serious, looks directly at my face. I gulp, wondering whether Gabriel means the creature in my nightmares.

“There is a catch. When you do start learning how to take control, you can’t change your actions that you are supposed to make in that memory. Your memories are your memories for a reason. It’s already done and over with. You’re not supposed to change them. You’re only supposed to
watch
them unfold as they play out. The same goes for this place. It’s all about control. The more you change yourself in this place, the more you can change from in there.”

As
Gabriel
says this, he reaches out and touches my forehead. “Your memories, I mean.”
Gabriel
pauses, letting his hand drop back down to his side.

But why?
I wonder. What will happen if I do?

“Listen well and listen good. The point is not to change the outcome of your memories. The point is to be strong enough that you don’t have to relive them, strong enough to stop listening to the music so that you can have the extra time needed to use for the race. Changing your past is very different than changing yourself here. The reapers have no control in your memories. What has control in your memories is something far worse, and I think you know what I mean. Have any good nightmares lately?”

I think back to the dark figure in my dreams at night. If that isn’t a reaper then who is it?

“The
Valkyrie
is always
watch
ing, always waiting, and it doesn’t respond well to changes. So don’t even think about changing anything while you’re inside there, or it
will
come for you.”

I feel overwhelmed. The Valkyrie?
What is that?
I wonder. If I change something, that dark figure shows up? What will it do to me?

Not only do I not fully understand what Gabriel is saying, what I do understand seems impossible. Gaining control over my memories, my thoughts?
Impossible!
I think. Or way too difficult! I drop my head.

Seeing the Rubik’s cube in my hand, I throw it down onto the floor, realizing it was just as pointless as the knife trick. Everything is just pointless. If they really wanted to help me then why did they even teach me how to listen to the record playing to begin with? I would have had a better chance at not listening to it if I didn’t know what I was listening to in the first place! I scream this to myself hoping Gabriel is listening.

“Don’t you think we already did that once? Twice? Twenty times?! It doesn’t work out for you! Without showing you your humanity first you never go along with anything else we tell you! You just keep blacking out once the music starts to play. Don’t you get it? There are no easy roads here. No shortcuts. That’s why each time you get reaped, we perfect it. We must learn from our mistakes.”

If they already failed doing this method many times before, why does it even matter? I have one shot left and all I have accomplished is playing knife tricks and child games. I need answers about me!

“You don’t believe in yourself much, do you? Well, we can fix that!”
Gabriel
laughs.

I look at my watch to find that it is a few seconds till 42:02. After gathering everything I have learned today about time, I still don’t understand how my mind leaves here at 42:02 and comes back around 45:00. The memory seems twenty times longer than that.

Gabriel, swinging around the pole, says, “I can hear you!” He stops, and looking at me sings, “I can hear you thinking.” Seeming to be dizzy, he looks over at my window. “Time can play tricks on you, remember? Time here never stops. It keeps on tick, tick, ticking because that’s its purpose.”

He turns his head to me. “You needing to be at a certain spot at a certain time is your specific purpose.” He then leans his head up. “However the music that rains from the heavens above is not a part of any purpose and not time constructed into the full layout of this unholy design. It’s like a virus in the system that can’t be wiped clean. I like to call it a flaw.”

Gabriel brings his head down and looks at my watch. “The flaw being not really the music but your own mind. You see, your mind is the one picking up the airwaves, turning itself to that right channel. The music that is playing on the outside has triggered an emotional response inside your brain. You may not remember how you know the sweet little tune, but somewhere deep down the melody has already left a scar inside your head. So all that the music is really doing is opening up that old wound, that specific moment in which that certain song has come together to form a rememberable memory. Once you are in that state of remembrance, time runs a lot slower because your mind is only feeding you the memory. It’s like taking your first bite into a casserole. You instantly judge that one taste to all the other casseroles you’ve ever had. Your mind begins to feed you memories of past dishes until you remember that your grandma’s homemade casserole, which she made when you were young, was your all-time favorite! Your memories took you all the way back to when you were young and all it took was a few seconds. However, if the memory is harder to remember, it may take a few minutes or more instead. Thus, why when you wake up, the time may have passed an hour in your memory, but merrily minutes in this reality.”

My head hurts trying to gain insight to what I just heard.

“All this talk about casseroles has got me starving,” Gabriel says, feeling his stomach.

The pain in my head starts to hurt even worse, knowing that this has nothing to do with Gabriel’s casserole theory. I hear the shrieking noise coming from above me again.

Gabriel screams out, “I am really starting to hate this music!”

Who is on the other side playing this for me?!

“You know the rules! I can’t say. What you should be thinking is why does the music generate past memories in you?!”

I stop. Thinking about what he just said makes my head hurt worse.

“When you return, we’ll see how well you listened. Count on it,” Gabriel says to me, turning and walking away.

I can hear the music playing, then the sounds of the subway, at first loud, and then fading away rapidly. Everything starts breaking into puzzle pieces. I drop to the floor as I see Gabriel reaching for my legs, dragging me, until everything fades to black.

THE LIGHTHOUSE RESTAURANT

I open my eyes. I am sitting at a table with a notebook in front of me, chewing on the end of a pencil I hold. Taking the pencil end out of my mouth, I look down at the notebook and see my own writing. It’s a book I have been working on. I look up from it and notice that I am in the coffee shop again. I look back over to my book and find at the top right-hand corner a date.

The year reads: 1993.

That makes me 22 years old right now, and means it has been another year. I find myself lifting the pencil to my mouth and, though I will myself not to, I start chewing on it uncontrollably.

I must fight it,
I think, remembering what Gabriel said. But I cannot stop the chewing. Though it infuriates me, I feel like I am inside a shell, just observing myself again.

I hear a phone ring by the cashier stand. An employee picks it up and looks to me. He screams out, “I got a Madi on the phone for you.” My heart beats a little faster as I quickly walk over and lift the the receiver to my ear.

“Hey!” I say, enthusiastically.

“I caught you! And don’t try to deny it!” Madi says, half-laughing.

“Okay,” I respond, “and what, may I ask, did you catch me doing?”

“I know you too well,” Madi giggles. “You’re sitting there looking devilishly handsome and biting your pencil while writing what may be the greatest novel in the whole wide world! Right?”

I reply in a sarcastic tone, “No…you are mistaken, ma’am.” I take the pencil out of my mouth, looking around to see if she is there. Scanning across from right to left, I see no one.

“An open mind leaves a chance for someone to drop a worthwhile thought in it. Wouldn’t you agree?” she says.

“I do agree,” I respond.

“Now if one would ask you if you had an open mind about me then I would oblige you of a worthwhile thought. Would you accept this gratuity?” she says back.

“I will,” as I look at someone in the phone booth outside. It’s her. Madi looks over to me, smiling.

“Then of this worthwhile opportunity that is placed before us would indubitably make for a great time if I were to say…tonight?” she says looking at me with those sexy eyes.

“Sounds intriguing,” I say as I continue looking at her, curious to what follows next.

“What say you at seven o’clock, good sir?” she responds in an English accent.

I look at the time as it reads right at seven. “Ha, how convenient. I seem to be free. What’s with the accent?”

“I am trying to act like a scholar. Let me be a freakin’ scholar! Geez,” she says, acting sarcastic. “So where was I?” She continues with her accent. “Ah yes, then seven it will be. I will pick you up in my chariot and whisk you away for a worthwhile time, dahling. ma-ha!”

“Sounds quite devine, my secret mistress.” We laugh at our foolishness.

“Get over here, stalker!” I say to her, still laughing over the phone. She hangs up the phone and walks quickly inside the store. She leaps the last step to me and throws her arms around me.

“Well, we’ve both been busy lately. It’s almost Christmas and we’ve been stuck inside that apartment and—”

“Hey! I like being stuck inside that apartment, I’ll have you know,” I respond, smiling up at her.

“Well, not tonight. Tonight’s special! Let’s go eat somewhere nice tonight, I will pay!” she says, smiling.

I look down at my watch and then down at my notebook. “I don’t think we have enough time to go—” I start saying.

Madi cuts me off. “We have all the time in the world! Come on!” she says, taking my hand. With some reluctance, I shut my notebook, reach into my right inner breast pocket, pull out my wallet, and drop a couple cents on the table. I put my wallet back inside my pocket. Madi starts walking to the door, pulling me behind her. Once outside, she turns right and we walk just twenty feet before stopping in front of an expensive boutique clothing store.

“You’re a goofball. We can’t afford this. We aren’t rich, remember?” I object.

“Tonight we are,” Madi replies, pushing the door of the store open and walking in, still pulling me behind her.

“Now, pick out which ones you like on me, and I’ll pick out what looks best on you. Let’s see how well you know me, mister,” she smiles kiddingly.

I look around at all the expensive designer clothes and think Madi must be joking. “Stop playing around,” I say.

“Now, once you’re done picking them out, leave mine in one of the dressing rooms, and I’ll leave the ones I pick for you in another. The dressing room attendant will direct each of us to the right room. We’ll try on each other’s choices, and then pick what we think is best, put them on, and go out to eat. We’ll live like celebrities for the night! Yassssss!”

I respond, “Why are we—”

Madi puts her finger on my lips. “Shh, it will be fun. Besides,” she says, whispering in my ear, “we will take it back tomorrow. Come on! Let the games begin!” She giggles, turning towards the radio by the dressing room. She cuts it on as a song begins to play. It’s the same song that was playing from the record player a few minutes ago, I think. She dances to the upbeat tempo and heads to the men’s racks. I smile, enjoying her enthusiasm.

A few minutes later, we meet in front of the dressing room attendant, who directs us to our respective dressing rooms. Madi and I come out intermittently, showing off outfits to each other. We laugh, ridiculing each other’s choices playfully.

I try on another suit, walk out, and look in the mirror. I recognize it as the same suit I wore every day in the other world. I look at the price tag: $1,599.99. I find it both funny and sad that something I seem—in the other world—to find so casual, is something—in this world—I can only dream of affording.

“Okay, I think I found it!” Madi calls out from her dressing room. I turn around as her door opens. She looks stunning. An elegant white dress is draped perfectly over her slim but curvaceous form. I am surprised she likes it, thinking that she would find it too classy. She looks simply…magical.

Madi looks transfixed by my suit. “You…” she says, and stops, apparently at a loss for words.

“You…as well!” I reply back.

She looks in the mirror for a second and then puts her hands over her face. “Ugh, don’t look! I need to go do my makeup!” she says. “We’ll take it,” she says to the dressing room attendant as she turns and walks over to a small cosmetics section at the back of the store.

Though stunned by Madi’s beauty, I try to get into the evening, for her sake at least. Suddenly I am distracted and anxious about getting more of my novel written. I look down at my wrist, wondering what the time is. I forgot I lost my watch and I think about how I wish I could afford one.

A store employee carrying a small tray of colognes approaches, asking, “Can I interest you in any of our fragrances, sir? I would suggest the Blue Omega; it’s one of our Wednesday daily deals.”

A worried look crosses my face. “What’s today’s date?” I ask.

“Why, it’s the sixth, sir,” he replies.

“I totally forgot!” I say. “It’s our one year anniversary, my girlfriend’s and mine, that is. I can’t believe I forgot. I need to get her something. Do you have any Wednesday daily deals on the women’s side?”

“First things first,” the employee replies, spraying a little of the Blue Omega on my wrist. I hold my wrist up to my nose. Very nice, I think to myself.

“Follow me,” says the employee. I follow him across the store to the front of a glass case with necklaces inside. The employee points to the diamond necklace in the middle. “That is our Wednesday daily deal,” he says. “It’s twenty-five percent off, today only.”

I squint a little to make out the tiny price tag under the necklace: $3,500. “A steal at just three point five K,” says the employee, smiling. I think anxiously about how buying the necklace would mean having to use the money I was saving for my book.

The employee, still smiling, but seeming a little impatient, continues, “But if it’s still too expensive for you, I understand. One has to be careful with tight budgets.”

I feel ashamed, both that I cannot really afford the necklace and that I cannot buy something nice for my own girlfriend. Quickly I respond, “No! No, I’ll get it.”

“Fabulous! I will meet you up front!”

As the employee unlocks the case and reaches in to pick up the necklace, I hear a voice whisper to me, “Steal it! Come on!” There’s no way I can sacrifice the money I’ve been saving for my novel for this, I think.

“Wait!” I find myself saying to the employee. “Can you leave it unlocked so I can surprise her with it?”

The employee smiles at me, flirtatiously. “I knew there were still romantic guys like you around! And my mom told me there weren’t any left!” He walks away humming “Frosty the Snowman.” I look around. Seeing that no one is nearby, I quickly reach in, take the necklace, and put it in my left inside jacket pocket.

I close the glass case, turn around, and I am shocked a little to see Madi just a few feet away, walking toward me. Her face is tastefully made up.

She smiles at me. “Well, am I not something else?” Madi does a small spin, showing me her dress. For a moment, I forget all about the necklace and stand there, stunned by her beauty. “Left you speechless, did I? Well, you don’t look so bad either,” she says blushing. “Not a bad pick if I do say so myself,” she continues to say to me, looking at the price tag on my suit.

“True, but I’m putting this back,” I say.

“Don’t. You. Dare!” she says sternly, but playfully. “Besides, it’s too late. I already bought it.”

She raises her elbow for me to hook my hand through. I can’t help but smile, my heart beating rapidly as I remember the necklace inside my jacket pocket. I look to the front of the store and see that the employee is up on the left, helping a very well-dressed older couple. I put my arm around hers and we walk to the front door, pull it open, and walk through. She laughs. I laugh in response, nervously.

“Where to now, my lady?” I ask, now down the block and almost out of sight from the store. Madi points across the park to the lighthouse restaurant. It looks oddly familiar to me, but I cannot remember where or when I have been there.

“Okay, but something’s missing,” I say, stopping and reaching inside my jacket pocket. I carefully pull out the necklace. Madi looks at me, shocked. I smile. “And you probably thought I forgot.”

She looks into my eyes, stepping closer and turning. She pulls her hair out of the way. I carefully put it around her neck and latch it.

“No one has ever given me something this nice,” says Madi, her eyes slightly wet. I can see the worry on her face, the tense set of her shoulders and slight furrow of her brow. Her face relaxes and she smiles at my scrutiny. “And no returning it and putting the money back in my account. I know you.” She looks at me, knowing I knew that was exactly what she was thinking.

“Now, where were we?” I say, lifting my elbow for her to hook her arm through. She takes my arm and we laugh the way we think rich people would, and walk across the street into the park. I look nervously over my left shoulder to make sure the employee is not outside searching for me. The Ferris wheel soon hides us away to where we can just blend in to the crowd.

The lighthouse restaurant is dimly lit. A small fire burns in the fireplace to the left of the back windows where patrons stand with drinks, talking and looking out over the expansive bay. To the right of the front windows there is a black grand piano with the key cover open.

A man dressed in a tailcoat jacket walks calmly from the kitchen door to the bench. He sits down, stretches his hands out, adjusts his position on the bench, and begins to play. The piano looks very familiar, I think.

Madi and I sit at a table in the middle of the room. The same table I always seemed to sit at in my prison, I think. I turn to face Madi. She looks especially stunning tonight. I try to tell her how beautiful she is, but I once again find I can’t move my mouth. My body starts to feel numb again. Music from the piano overwhelms me.

My mouth opens and, instead of saying how beautiful Madi is, I find myself saying, “Happy one year anniversary pretty girl!” I raise my glass to hers. The glasses, half full with red wine, make a clinking sound. Both of us take a sip.

Madi suddenly looks up at the piano, recognizing the song, and smiles more widely. She sings quietly, almost whispering, along with the music.