Failing Upward Ch. 10

This kissing test had nothing to do with my loving Sid. Test? No, maybe not a test-- more like an experiment. Peter knew I loved Sid, and he knew how much. He'd known before I even admitted it to myself.

No, this wasn't about love. It was about intimacy and its invasion. Peter's personal experiment to see how intimacy worked in reverse. I'd always believed Sid saw into me. Stupid of me to never come right out and ask. Well, now I knew. Amazing what I learned in one long French kiss.

Espionage ala tonsil hockey.

As for Deal's motive, I knew it now. He didn't want me. Certainly didn't hold any affection for me. Maybe a touch of lust. But he could get sex somewhere else-- he wanted more than just hanky panky.

From the way I read Deal, physical sensory experiences entwined with extrasensory experiences in my brain's wiring. I already surmised that one on my own. He just confirmed my suspicions; I was hard wired for psychic sex.

I already knew Sid turned me on, now I knew he tuned me in.

My lips burned where Peter's mouth crushed mine. Kinda of an internal-combustive penalty for orally betraying Sid. What was I? Easy? Fucking kissed on a vibrating insert-a-quarter bed in a seedy no-tell motel. The thing was, for a millisecond I actually contemplated giving him another long hard smooch to explore the possibilities.

I touched my mouth and stared at him.

"You're wrong," I repeated.

Yeah, one more-- strictly for informational seeking purposes.

Deal sputtered, "Hell, I'm wrong."

But he was; he was wrong. I wasn't a human time machine.

At least not yet.

I was wrong to even let him in. I wouldn't let him look inside my head again.

I scooted away from Deal to the other side of the bed. I was feeling a bit vulnerable-- after all, I was naked. That and Peter crawling across the bed breathing heavy, made me more than a little nervous. Maybe Peter was comfortable with all his nudist clients, but I sure as Hell preferred clothes-- and his sexual misconduct? Wasn't he breaking his Hippocratic oath?

His did look hot, his eyes flashing as he sided up to me-- patient/doctor ethics be damned.

Well, he had to know that his little test went both ways. I learned as much as he did. Amazing what I learned from him in that kiss. Although I was afraid what he'd learned from me--

What was I doing? I grabbed the sheets and yanked them up to my neck.

Scary to know Peter had been watching Sid and I for sometime. When he'd hypnotized me, he took a back seat, hoping I'd remember the conversations in the hospital-- with Sid, with Lancaster. Of course Deal intentionally lead me down the faux past life path to see if he was right about what I was.

You know-- The One.

Judging by the way Deal's hand was touching my knee and moving up my thigh, he was determined to learn more. Friendly necking wasn't going to get him what he needed.

He was using me on two levels. Personal research and physical release.

From the jolts sparking from his fingers to my brain, I was on my way to overload. I pushed his hand away.

How could I have been so stupid? He knew who I was better than anyone else because he knew Sid. Shit, Sid confided in him. Peter Deal, the trusted family friend. I let him in and let him hypnotize me. Peter'd planned this! Some rescue from the depths of the Community. Rescue? Shit, he was at the Adam's Den bathroom the night Shackleton cornered me against the sink. He didn't stop Shackleton-- walked right out and left me. He sure as hell didn't rescue me there.

He'd told Sid he was going to help me-- and Sid spilled his heart out. Sid believed he was helping me. Instead, he was helping Peter help himself to me.

Hey, Sid! Pass one serving of Wesley Grant to the right!

Sid told him enough to make Peter think I had some kind of power. I didn't blame Sid for confiding in him. Sid didn't understand. Shit, I hadn't understood until now.

It's like when I listen to Led Zeppelin with Lynn-- I hear every note, every chord:

Me: Why that's an A minor diminished followed by a D minor seventh.

Lynn: Gosh, it sounds so depressing.

I hear every instrument:

Me: The acoustic and electronic sounds integrate. Listen to the piano, viola and synthesizer.

Lynn: Hey! That sounds really cool!

Face it: She hears a melody; I hear the music of the spheres.

That's what it'd been like for me up to this point-- I was Lynn. I didn't understand what I was hearing. What was happening in my own body was a mystery. Suddenly, I heard; suddenly I saw; suddenly I understood. Could I blame Sid for not understanding when I hadn't understood myself?

Peter had a limited understanding. He knew more than me, (duh-- that didn't take much). Shackleton-- he understood too much.

I knew others who understood. Les's parents. My uncle.

Peter knew enough just to be dangerous. He wanted to change his past and thought I could do it for him. Well, part of me would like to change time, too--have my parents and Karen alive again for a start. Get to know my birth parents for another. Yeah, and get answers. Maybe understand how I fit in this confusing universe.

Jeez, I'd like to turn back to the time when my worst worry was what color carnations to put in the next floral arrangement. But I had to live with the now.

Who was I to fuck with time?

Peter leaned into me, trying to kiss me again, his mouth trying to pry mine open. I whimpered, but this time I didn't kiss him back.

"No," I mumbled into his mouth. "No more."

I scrambled up against the headboard, putting more distance between us. He sat back, studying me. Scrutinizing me, was coming on to me again worth another shot? He decide no and kept the few feet between us the same. After all, he wasn't Shackleton; he wouldn't force himself on me.

Everybody wanted something from me.

Everyone but Sid.

Deal was like Shackleton in the respect he wanted me more than to just get his rocks off. Fucking me was another way to get power. Neither understood this was more than about sex. Maybe Sid and I hadn't understood much, but we both understood what the secret ingredient was.

"I need to get dressed." I grabbed the sheets, covering myself and stumbled as I climbed out of bed. Shit, I was still light headed. I didn't relish putting on those gross janitor clothes, but it was better than sitting naked in bed next to Deal.

He stood and walked over to his suitcase, pulling out some jeans and a t-shirt.

Trusted family friend and Sid's ex-lover.

I didn't trust him even if he did give me clothes.

He placed them on the chair next to me like some peace offering.

"Sorry, I didn't get any underwear. I didn't feel right buying them at the Goodwill."

I choked back a laugh, not a peace offering, a Goodwill offering. Then I got pissed. So, I only rated a Goodwill purchase? Big spender. And no underwear. Couldn't even go to K-Mart? Figures. I sniffed the jeans and shirt-- at least they were clean.

He stood there.

"Can I get dressed?" I cleared my throat.

"Knock yourself out!" Fine. Let him get a cheap thrill watching me.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, pulling the shirt over my head.

"You act like I'm an axe murderer. Hey, it's me-- the one that helped you escape. Remember? You act like not one's ever made a pass at you before."

Ok, maybe I was being ungrateful, but I kept my force field up. One thing I didn't get from Deal was where we were going and why. I'd assumed we were going back to the Lancaster's. Now I wasn't so sure.

"Some place out of the way and safe." He stepped forward. "Don't worry, you won't be alone there with me."

"Will Sid be there?"

"I don't know. All I know is that Glenda will meet us there."

"Glenda? Wouldn't she like to know what you just pulled with me."

"And what did I just pull?"

"Cut the crap. We both know why you just tried to get into my pants. So you want to be a god or just want to know what I know?"

"Yeah, kick me for being a shit. But I wanted to find out what it was like. I knew Sid didn't have a clue what was going on in that head of yours," he said, laughing. "Fuck, you don't seem to have a clue either."

"Well, now you know I don't know shit."

He shut the suitcase.

"Don't give me anymore lectures about giving Sid the serum," I said, walking over the crusty overalls and retrieving the water bottle. "You're so filled with ulterior motives, you probably aren't cognizant of them all yourself."

"You don't give yourself enough credit. Maybe I wanted to look deep into those big blue eyes of yours as I made you come."

I plopped down on the chair next to the door, staring at the floor. I didn't need this.

"What about that long sad story you were going to tell me? Was that a load, or do you plan on sharing that? Least you could do after groping me."

"You act insulted. It's an honor to be groped by me. As I recall, you weren't fighting me off-- much," he said, slinging the suitcase over his shoulder. "Fuck this. We need to get going. It's late. I let you sleep too long."

I picked up the overalls.

"Throw those away," he ordered.

"Ok."

Guess I wouldn't get to role play dirty janitor and the saucy cleaning woman with Sid. I tossed them in trash next to the bed.

Too bad. A feather duster had possibilities.

--------------------------

I made the mistake of asking Peter his long sad story, which meant I couldn't escape bouncing up and down in a hot truck cab with no fucking shocks, listening to him go on and on about Glenda, and how he loved her, and the foolish choice he made to give the roses to his father. Oh... my... Gosh... blah, blah, blah, blah, blah-h-h. Jeez, he told me how he wanted to change his life. What a lame excuse for trying to get in my pants! I absently nodded after each comment he made. Oh yeah, like I agreed and believed him. Right-t-t-t. I knew what he wanted. He wanted to make Peter Deal, angst-worn psychiatrist, go away. By now he realized I couldn't and wouldn't do that for him.

It was interesting to hear him talk about how he fell in love with Glenda, got married and found my uncle buried alive in the sand. Creepy too.

His regrets over Glenda sounded sincere.

Still--

Enough was enough; I was done listening to Peter Deal's History of the World Part Four. He was driving down I-196 in a construction zone at a crawl, grinding the old Ford's gears to shit, and all I wanted to know was why he was so certain I could alter time. Maybe if I learned the secret, I could alter time and zap the fuck out of this Easy Bake Oven truck and pop into an air-conditioned Caddy.

Best way to find out was to ask. Until I understood the mechanics, I was as deaf as Lynn was to Led Zeppelin.

Problem was Peter had trouble hearing too. I bet he listened to Country Music, probably Waylon Jennings.

I only wished he had as much trouble talking...

"I'm no quantum-physicist or bio-astronomer," he explained. "This is how I understand it-- it's like this-- mathematicians have this word for the square root of negative number. You know what it is?"

"No."

I hated math. I just remembered numbers.

"It's called an imaginary number. Engineers use them all the time. Ask Sid; he knows."

I closed my eyes. I'd love to ask Sid right now. God, I missed him.

"Any objects with real mass travel less than the speed of light. Objects with zero mass travel the speed of light. Now if something had imaginary mass, the object could go faster than the speed of light. That means that object would go back in time." He nudged my shoulder. "Ever watch Star Trek?"

"Yes-- ah, which one?"

Star Trek, Star Trek the Next Generation, Voyager, Deep Space Nine, the fucking Trekkie show with Scott Bakula that nobody watches...

"All of them. Any of them," he continued.

"Um..."

Wrath of Khan, Search for Spock, the Final Frontier, First Contact, and what ever frickin' number nine was...

"Each version had these particles-- tachyon particles. Those are particles with imaginary mass."

(number nine, number nine, number nine)

"Ok... so?"

Warp speed, communicators, worm holes, transporter malfunction splitting Kirk in two, good and evil...

"That's what you become."

I laughed.

Good or evil?

"One giant tachyon? Is that anything like a Klingon?" I asked.

"No, you're millions and millions of tachyons zooming through time."

Follow the bouncing tachyon ball.

"So I am an alien being," I said, laughing harder. "This is great."

Andorians, Romulans, Betazoids, slutty alien women who all fuck Captain Kirk...

"No, you're part human. Just less human and more alien."

"Fuck. This is crazy. You're crazy."

If I was green and could belly dance, would Captain Kirk grope underneath my veils too?

"Crazy?" he exclaimed. "So you think humans were part of the primordial soup? We're all aliens."

"You're the one filling Sid's parents with these ideas. Christ."

Crystals... alien crystals. What were they called? Oh, yeah. dilithium crystals! That's what they gazed into at that Nudist Colony or was that in engineering?

That was perfect. I was an imaginary number. Not a one or zero, an on or off button. I was neither. Less than zero. I knew there was a reason why I was treated as a non-person. Now I knew why; I was an imaginary person. I heard Scotty's voice in the back of my head: "Look out Captain! The dilithium crystal's aboot to fracture!"

I decided to become invisible. I closed my eyes again and fell asleep as he drove down US-31, droning on about time travel. I woke abruptly as my head banged against the cab ceiling. It was late afternoon as the truck bounced down a washboard road. Deal took a hard left. The wooded drive dipped down, then up the dunes. I could smell and feel it in the air-- the cool gritty breeze welling off Lake Michigan through the window, making me ache inside. I scratched my scruffy chin, studying this roomy house on the edge of endless sky straight ahead. White poplars and spiky grass poked of the dunes near the porch, deep footprints circling around the side of the house. This was going to be my home for awhile-- the hide out. Not a hardship at all. As we got closer, my heart started pounding in anticipation.

Peter pulled next to a tan Ford Taurus. As I stepped out of the truck cab, bottle in hand, I noticed the cat asleep on the porch. It was Babe.

I hadn't dared hope for this. Shit, that was I lie. I had hoped. That was why I was anxious.

The front door swung open, and Sid flew out behind, breathing hard. His hair was wet and dripping. Cheeks and shoulders pink from the sun. His neon green swim trunks clung to him. Water trickled down his legs-- making rivulets in the sand stuck to his legs.

As we embraced, we both held back, each afraid the other would break. He was cold from Lake Michigan; I smelled the lake water on his neck mixed with scent of his sweat. I sucked the heady combination deep into my lungs.

I couldn't recall the last time I was that happy.

Glenda watched us, forehead pressed white against the screen door. Peter stood near, behind us on the steps, nodding for her to come out. She cautiously opened the door and stepped around us, following him around the side of the house, making new footprints in the sand.

"You smell so good," I said. "God, I've missed you."

"I ran full throttle up that dune as soon as Glenda yelled down to me that you were coming up the drive," he said, teeth chattering. "Damn, I missed you." He stepped back. "Ah, I'm getting you all wet."

I threw myself into him, pressing him through me. I loved the way my nerve endings tingled and sparked where ever he touched me.

"Like I care about a little water," I said, noticing his shiver. "You're cold."

"It's that icy water. Not so bad when you're in it, but when you get out..."

"Yeah. I know--" I said, "part of that Great Lakes' experience. Wanna go in and put something dry on?"

He flashed me that lopsided boyish grin. I really was only suggesting he put something dry on, but--

"Sure. I'll have to change if we go into that air-conditioned house. I'll freeze to death in there."

He grabbed my hand and squeezed it, pulling he inside.

The floor plan was open: Kitchen, dining and living area all one huge space. The lofts above and hardwood rafters danced in the reflected light off the lake. The mirrors of Lake Michigan refracted in through the floor to ceiling windows; the expanse sparkled. It was beautiful. Still, I'd rather spend moments looking at Sid as he pulled me through the house. His grin widened, eyes crinkling. I longed to touch the water beaded in his chest hairs. And I longed to trace my fingers across his back, connecting the dots where the sun forced the freckles across his shoulders to stand out. He was more fucking intriguing than any house.

"Shit," he said. "I didn't even ask... are you hungry?"

"Starved, but I can wait here until you change." He saw my eyes rest on the grande piano behind him, and he glowed.

"I knew you'd love it. Isn't it perfect?" he asked, gliding his fingers across the top. "I mean, I'm no musician, but Glenda says it's a really nice piano."

"It's more than really nice; this is an old Steinway."

Real ivory. I pressed middle C-- rich sound. I wanted to play, but noticed Sid's shivering in spasms.

"You better change."

"Come on, I'll show you our room." He pulled me up the steep stairway, my knees popping with the last few steps. It was like ascending a ladder.

Then at the top he pushed open the trap door.

I crawled up behind him, admiring the view. The door banged shut behind us. I could see the lake sparkling through the window behind Sid. His nose twitched. Suddenly, I was afraid. I realized when he made love to me, he'd know. He'd see. Would he want me still after he knew my torments and my frailties?

Holy Cow, I couldn't let him just see. I had to tell him--

I blurted it out--

"I kissed Peter... I mean Peter kissed me... No, I mean, we kissed each other..."

Sid blinked, his teeth chattering.

"That came out all fucking wrong," I said, grabbing a hand full of my hair.

I flopped my hands down to my sides and stared at the floor. Now, he knew. He'd open the trap door and throw me down the ladder.

My hand tightened around the water bottle, and I began choking.

"No..." said Sid, cautiously, stepping forward. "It didn't come out wrong. Take a deep breath. It's all right, Wes. Take a drink."

What? Hadn't he heard me? I looked at the bottle absently.

Fuck.

"That damn Peter," Sid mumbled half to himself. "I wondered when he was pumping me for information if he was being upfront with me." He stretched his arm out and grabbed my wrist. "Are you ok?"

"No," I yanked my wrist from his hand, staring at the Mountain Ice bottle. "I don't deserve you. You don't understand."

He touched my cheek. Why was he mad at Peter and not me? Why didn't he see what an ass I was?

"What happened to you in that place? Shackleton-- that son of a bitch. What did he do? It must have been awful if you had to tell me about Peter first."

Then he broke down, sobbing into my Goodwill t-shirt. I hugged him close, holding his head tight. I rested my face in his hair, wet from the lake. His chest was cool through my shirt.

"Avoiding. Always avoiding what's important," he sobbed into my shoulder. "I heard it all... What Shackleton said to you. You went with him to save me..."

"I went with him because I didn't have any choice. Sid, it's not your fault. Stop this."

"You're so thin," he said, pulling back and searching me face. "And-- you need a shave."

We both laughed-- Sid through his tears and me into the water bottle.

"And you're cold as an ice-maiden." I threw my arms around him, listening to him laughing and sobbing. He lifted me off the floor, swinging me up. As he put me down, his bathing trunks slipped down over his hips. I kissed his neck. "Where did you get these blinding neon green swim trunks from anyway?"