Parallel: The Secret Life of Jordan McKay Page 19

  “Thank you so much, Jordan dear.” Kenzie’s mom also dropped her bags and made her way into the kitchen where she turned on some lights.

  “Beef honey. Yum,” Kenzie smiled with a glimmer in her eye.

  My lips curled into a smile as I watched her, hoping my mother could see us and the life I now lived. I wanted nothing more than to tell her about Kenzie, to Shift back and tell her that she could rest easy knowing I had found something wonderful, but why risk it?

  I had to have enough faith to believe that somehow she knew I had made it through alright. I felt a comfort knowing that my mother had not lived the life I thought she had, that somewhere along the way there was happiness, perhaps even love. Kenzie gave me a kiss on the cheek as I lowered the bags onto the counter. I grabbed her waist as her mother filled the fridge and whispered in her ear, “I love you.”

  Statement from Dr. Ashcroft,

  Vincent Memorial Hospital, Boston

  August 4, 2009

  05:35 a.m.

  Agent Donnery:

  Perhaps that’s where some of the confusion came from. We did not understand that the mother was also writing some of the entries in this journal, we figured these were his Shifts as well.

  Dr. Ashcroft:

  You should have known that from the date of the entries alone. You have to understand that a Shifter cannot Shift outside the boundaries of their own lifeline, Agent. They don’t exist there because they are either dead or haven’t been born yet.

  Agent Donnery:

  I see. Yes I believe you told me that.

  Dr. Ashcroft:

  Have you found any more of his kind? Other than Molly, of course. I know she exists. Perhaps you need to look into her family.

  Agent Donnery:

  No, just him, and I suppose her, when we find her. It’s hard to tell if we ever will catch her, though. If she is as calm of a Shifter as these stories suggest, we likely won’t. It seems she had been raised in a manner that was open and that her parents had taught her how to control the talent.

  Dr. Ashcroft:

  Will you tell me if you ever do find her? I’d like to meet her. Perhaps ask a few questions?

  Agent Donnery:

  Probably not.

  Dr. Ashcroft:

  (pause) I understand. Rules, right?

  Agent Donnery:

  Sucks, doesn’t it?

  Dr. Ashcroft:

  Yeah. (pause) So, are you ready to hear the end of the story?

  Agent Donnery:

  Yes, I’m ready to go home. I believe the sun is just about to rise, and I know my wife will be worried.

  Dr. Ashcroft:

  Well, I’ll try to make it snappy, then.

  Story by Dr. Ashcroft,

  From the Journals of Patient #32185

  June 17, 2009

  8:53 a.m.

  I sat on the chair opposite Jordan in the kitchen, looking up to where the cookbooks had been, then to the lower shelf were they were now. I sighed. “What happened to that book you found?”

  Jordan looked up from his bowl of cereal to where the books had been as well, following my gaze. “I put it in a box, I believe. One we haven’t unpacked yet.”

  I nodded. “Ah, I see.” I didn’t believe him, but I wasn’t going to push. I didn’t have the energy to, not today.

  So far the new house hadn’t revealed any ghosts, or anything else that I had manifested in my mind for the years and years I had deemed it to be haunted. Most things had already been unpacked and the old furniture moved into storage. Despite my attempts to try and get Jordan to sell all the old stuff, he refused, claiming we had plenty of money to simply store it, though God knows if we’d ever see it again.

  I wriggled in my chair as it squeaked. Jordan eyed me over the top of his newspaper, his cereal growing soggy as it floated in the milk. I coughed, finding the once pleasant smell of it nauseating as it wafted into my nostrils.

  “Kenzie, can you just sit still?” He pressed his brows together as deep lines cut across his forehead. He was glaring at me.

  I retorted with a sour face, “No.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Kenzie, what’s wrong with you?” He put his paper down and took a sip of coffee.

  “I’m pregnant,” I blurted. “I think.” I looked down at my hands as they sprawled across the counter, now sweating.

  His sipping stopped as he slowly placed the mug onto the counter with a weighted clank. “You’re what?”

  His voice sounded surprised, and I winced. “Pregnant. Maybe.”

  He wasn’t breathing. “How can you maybe be pregnant?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t feel well, and I missed my period.” I was fidgeting with my hands. “Oh, and I took a test.”

  A sharp exhale passed his lips. “Well then, that doesn’t sound like a maybe. That sounds like a definitely.”

  I brought my hand to my mouth and nibbled on my nails, not knowing what Jordan’s reaction would be.

  He reached across the counter and swatted the hand from my mouth. “Don’t do that.”

  I looked up at him, his jaw tight and his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. When our gazes met he forced back a smile, but it ignited my excitement and I let my fears fade. “Is that alright?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, it’s alright!” He stood and lunged around the table, plucking me from my chair, making it topple over.

  “We’re pregnant!” I yelped.

  He nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck and kissed my skin. “Does this mean we can’t, you know…” His lips grazed along my neck as I shuddered.

  “God, I hope not.” I melted into his grasp.

  “Well, should we make double sure you’re pregnant?”

  A loud laugh erupted from my chest. “Jordan! I’m barely a few weeks pregnant and you already want to corrupt this child?”

  He spun me and set me on my feet, his smile so large that it made wrinkles across his young face. “No?”

  I laughed, unbuttoning his shirt. “Well, I suppose it won’t hurt, just to be sure.”

  Formulated from the Journals

  of Patient #32185

  June 17, 2009

  1:45 p.m.

  I took a deep breath as I walked down the stairs. I was terrified, there was no way to deny that, but I couldn’t let Kenzie know. What if the child was like me? What would I tell it? Would I hide it like my mother had, or would I embrace the fact that it was unique like me and teach it how to be careful as I clearly hadn’t been?

  I felt my palms sweat. What if I didn’t make it? What would happen if I died, just like my mother had? I lifted my shirt and placed my hand on my side, feeling the spot where I had once seen the effects of my actions, and still could. In the end, the child would always have a mother though, a mother groomed to a life suited for just such a talented child. I felt nauseated at the thought, at all the manipulation I had made to make this life what it was.

  It was a lie. I was living nothing more than a lie. I needed to tell her. It had gone on long enough. At this point it didn’t matter what she did or said. I could not allow her to continue to live a life that was not her own. I walked back into the office where I opened the bottom drawer and lifted out the files, revealing what was left of my mother’s book, now housed among my own papers and writings.

  I would show her the book, she would see then that I didn’t make it up. All this age and history was the truth, and she deserved to know, especially with the possibility of that kind of child inside her.

  Despite my worries, I also felt excited. I would finally have someone to share my knowledge with, a child to teach as my mother had longed to do, but hadn’t. If I had known I was not alone, things would have been different these past few years. I would not do that to my child; they would know.

  Statement from Dr. Ashcroft,

  Vincent Memorial Hospital, Boston

  August 4, 2009

  05:49 a.m.

  Dr Ashcroft:

  The look on your face still su
ggests that you’re disappointed I didn’t tell you about a lot of this beforehand. In all fairness, I only recently understood myself, hence the position I’m in. It shocked me, naturally.

  Agent Donnery:

  That’s alright, Doctor. At least you’re telling me now. (pause) He must have been terrified when you told him you were pregnant.

  Dr. Ashcroft:

  He was. I knew right away that he was scared, I just didn’t know why. He was the one that had wanted kids in the first place, so I didn’t understand the hesitation at first, but I suppose it makes sense considering he had just found out that it could be hereditary.

  Agent Donnery:

  But now it doesn’t matter because the child is gone.

  Dr. Ashcroft:

  No.

  Agent Donnery:

  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I see that you’ve lost everything. I guess they just don’t teach us compassion during basic training.

  Dr. Ashcroft:

  No, they don’t. (pause) But I guess it is what it is, and I have the chance now to try and understand everything, and the purpose of why it happened to me. Most of all, I can move on, alone.

  Agent Donnery:

  Are you a religious person?

  Dr. Ashcroft:

  Knowing what you know, are you?

  Agent Donnery:

  Good point. I guess at the end of the day all that matters is that we believe in something, whatever that is.

  Dr. Ashcroft:

  I guess I believe in love. I can see Jordan’s angle on all of this. I see why he hid it away from me because he was ashamed. Reading this is more of an apology than he could have ever given me. The funny thing is that I still believe we would have ended up together, no matter what life and no matter what he did.

  Agent Donnery:

  I see. But now all you know is just an unraveling layer of lies.

  Dr. Ashcroft:

  It’s not that my life is falling apart. It’s more like my life is finally becoming clear. It was bound to happen eventually, I just didn’t expect it would happen this way.

  Told By Dr. Ashcroft

  August 2, 2009

  10:39 a.m.

  My hands were splayed across the desk as I looked at the picture that hung above my head. Why was this so hard to do? Taking a deep breath, I lifted my hands and opened the file drawer, knowing this was the last place I hadn’t yet looked. I pushed back the files, revealing the journal as I gazed upon it with both guilt and wonder. With a nervous hand I reached down and grabbed it, slowly pulling it from the drawers depths. I knew he had it hidden somewhere, but why? What about her files couldn’t I read?

  That day in the kitchen when I read what I could of the one entry, something had sparked my interest. This wasn’t just any journal, but something more; and I needed to know what that was. I looked over my shoulder toward the door, anxiety running like sand through every vein.

  I only had a few stolen moments to look at it before Jordan would be done with his shower and come looking for me. At times I wished he’d had a job so that I could sneak around more often, but in his world, with his luck, he didn’t need any.

  I had known for a while now that there was something going on beyond our simple life. It was hard to know what it was, but I knew him well enough to know that his interest in my dreams was not completely out of concern for me. I flipped open the cover and took a deep breath, searching for the page I had begun reading that day in the kitchen. As I shuffled through, I found that nothing was in order and I figured it was from when they’d been sprawled on the floor. Finally, I saw that each page had also been numbered and was in fact, in order. Out of order but in order? I asked myself, trying to make sense of it.

  Furrowing my brow, I flipped to the back where I found two birth certificates and a death certificate. The death certificate was his mother’s, along with one of the birth certificates, the other belonging to Jordan. There were a few pictures tucked into the back flap as well and I pulled them out, suddenly shocked by the face staring back at me, a face I had almost forgotten.

  His mother had a sweet innocent smile and fair skin, her hair long and black as it lay in a braid down her chest, accentuating her dark brown eyes. She was in a hospital bed, her body already frail. Her looks were breathtaking, but it hadn’t been her that had shocked me, it was Jordan. Though he had told me about that day in the park when we were young, I had forgotten his face. The face that I saw in the image now, however, brought me back.

  I gasped, bringing my hand to my mouth. Not only did his face bring me back to that day, but it was also the one that had haunted me for so long. It was the face from my dreams, the face of the man, the boy. Only now had I been able to see it, only now was I able to finally put the pieces together. I felt my heart racing harder with each blink, seeing the boy that had manifested himself in my dreams, growing up alongside me like a shadow.

  It was him, it had to be. I was right to assume it, all along. But why was it that I could see this boy, Jordan, as though he were my best friend? Especially when I had no way of knowing what he had looked like growing up? Outside of my dreams in my everyday life, I did not know him like this. There was only that one meeting in the park when I was four, and no one remembers when they were four.

  I was shaking now, my cheeks becoming flushed. Wanting to know more, I flipped to the next photo in the stack, reading the inscription, “Boston Orphanage 1994.” I felt my heart stop as I looked into the face of the boy on the bus from grade school.

  “No, no…” I whispered. I put my hand to my head, shaking it in disbelief. “Him too… That was him too?”

  I thought back to my life in grade school and the excitement I had felt that day when that cute, mysterious boy, had sat next to me on the bus. I had long wondered what had happened to him, finding that though he had moved into the neighborhood as he had claimed…

  A wave of nausea washed over me as it often did since I’d gotten pregnant, though this time it wasn’t from the pregnancy, but from the rush of memories and what they meant. My mind was trying to refuse seeing the obvious; dreams I had repressed and denied for so long were now flooding my thoughts, gaining power over my entire body. The boy on the bus had claimed to be living in the green house down the lane, this house, just as Jordan had claimed when he was also the boy in the park.

  I pushed the book to the side as I grabbed for the garbage can just in time to throw up. There was no denying it any longer. What I always knew was true. Coughing, I didn’t hear as the door to the room creaked open and Jordan stepped in.

  “Kenzie are you alright?” His voice sounded frantic.

  I reached for a tissue off the desk and wiped my mouth, looking up at him, my stomach cramping. He was looking at me with concern, but I saw the way his face changed as he noticed the book in my lap.

  “Kenzie, I…”

  I cut him off, my emotions unable to handle formality. “Jordan, what is this?”

  I held the photo up toward him and he stared at it, then me. “It’s me.”

  Sitting up I swallowed hard. “I can see that but, but you were…”

  This time he cut me off, seeing I was struggling as my stomach began to heave again. “Kenzie, I need to explain that.”

  What I couldn’t understand is why my memory of him at this age seemed to cross over, from my dreams to my reality, as though he had traveled into both like a phantom. I grabbed for the garbage can, taking deep breaths.

  “Kenzie, you need to calm down, you’ll make yourself sick.” Jordan knelt to the ground, lifting his hand to place it on my back, but I swatted it away.

  “I think it’s a little late for that, Jordan.” I shook the photo in my hand. “This, Jordan. What is this? Why do I know you more than just from in the park? Why do I know your face so well, as though I’d watched you grow up? Why are you the boy from my dreams?” The questions poured from my mouth without control. I looked to the floor, concentrating on the weave of the carpet, trying
to calm down. My eyes were watering and everything was blurred. I swallowed hard, pressing back the feeling of nausea.

  Jordan lifted my chin with his hand, looking me in the eyes. “Kenzie, don’t you ever wonder why you know me, then and now?”

  I grumbled and sat back. “Don’t you think that’s exactly what I’m doing now?” I crossed my arms against my chest as the stomach acid burned through my esophagus.

  “But did you wonder before today?”

  I let a sharp breath pass my lips as I grabbed my cup of juice from the desk and took a sip. “Yes, of course I did.” I set the glass back with a clank. “I was too afraid of the answer to ever ask, so I never pried.”

  He slid the book from my lap and brought it into his. “This is complicated but…”

  “You are the man from my dreams, aren’t you? Except, you know them, too. You know exactly what I’ve dreamt.” My eyes stung with betrayal, but also a sense that I was finally getting some clarity. “You’ve been playing me the fool.”

  He swallowed hard. “Kenzie, I…” I could tell he felt guilty. “I know about the day we met on the bus. I remember it all like it was yesterday.” He flipped through the pages, handing it to me and pointing. “See here.”