Traveling Souls

“What if you stayed?”

“I walk out the door every time. There’s no alternative memory.”

“Well, come back and make up a goodbye at least. Let’s pretend we had one this time… Farewell, Aria.”

“I love you.”

“Meet me in Montauk again.” 

There’s a monster under Aria’s bed. It crawls out in the night and places its algid stinging tentacles all over her shuddering shoulders. She’s terrified of its whispers, “You’re stuck in your own prison of a body.” She tries to run but she’s always stuck with herself. She’s tried to end it, but she’s scared of the dark.

God only knows where she’d heard of shifting realities for the first time. She just remembers the feeling of being magically fascinated. It’s like her mind left the body for a quick second, soaring into the atmosphere, to take a rapid glance at how the universe is built and say a proper goodbye to the star that had been keeping her warm. 

Picture the infinite realities Stephen Hawking was talking about. A romantic concept, isn’t it? But who in the world has the least bit of care if you’re rich in a parallel universe when there’s no way of leaving the current one? Well, imagine that switching between those two realities was as easy as changing a radio station in your car. Except the handle is twisted a little too hard.

Aria’s been trying it for a few years now. Nothing teleports her back. She lies in her bed and barely feels the bunk shaking. The monster’s not letting her forget about the midnight appointment. Yet she’s willing to fight… by letting it go. Slowly Aria closes her eyes and descends into a blissful trans, repeating a mantra “I’m shifting… I’m shifting… I’m shif...” A smoky shroud covers her sight. The limbs go numb. 

Persuasive light is slowly piercing through the darkness of the closed eyelids. The white spot dilates until it’s no longer bearable keeping the blinders shut. She lifts the lashes slowly and fearfully. A bright blessed day and a clear sky. A kite is sailing across the azure. It’s windy. Aria wraps her fingers in the sleeves of an orange hoodie. She smiles like an old woman would, looking down at her sneakers being licked by the endless rush of a tide. A tear comes streaming down her face. Aria sniffs and chuckles softly, “I’m back.”

She tries to absorb this moment. While her back is facing Drake, anything is possible. She can turn away and leave. She can make her way to where he sits in his hermit manner and spend a life with this man now that she’s not scared of staying for good anymore. And at this brief flash of time, Aria feels truly endless. Like what we’re supposed to be in theory. She comes up to him, and throws a quick one-liner, he giggles. She’s fresh to him like lemongrass. He’s an old friend to her like… well, the world itself. 

Night has fallen on the beach. The moon is hanging low. Just like she remembers it. They’re playing hide and seek with their eyes, trying to take a good look at each other without the other one noticing. Until they both fail. Drake takes Aria’s hand and laces their fingers. He says, “How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot...” And by the time Drake finishes the phrase, he catches Aria’s voice echoing. The reflection in her eyes consumes him. And it all comes back to him as the man starts crying. 

“You’re back. You really are back.” 

“I think I’ve made peace with my monster.”

The next morning an empty shell of Aria’s body walked the streets of New York.