“A few sips and I must be on my way,” Shmuel said, as he headed back to the kitchen after the coffee had brewed. “Promised Rachel and
Jacob a trip to the playground before lunch.”
Jodie finished chewing the bite in her mouth and swallowed. “Do you mind if Summer, Scout, and I join you?”
Shmuel stiffened, turning to face Jodie with his head tilted to one o’clock. “You’re full of surprises today,” he commented. “First the writing thing and now this!”
His wrinkled brow and half-open mouth were all the clues Jodie needed, thanking the stars for her acumen. “You know… new day, new
possibilities,” she answered with a smile, using a platitude to hide the fact she had no idea what had inspired Shmuel’s comment. “Could really use some coffee sometime today,” she then added, hoping to move the conversation away from her surprising behavior.
Shmuel chuckled as he resumed his short trek. “Now that’s the Jody I know!” he exclaimed. “Had me worried there for a second.”
“Not really… right?”
“Just an expression, dear.”
He had no idea how rattling his comment had been, how hard it impacted her midsection, how her breath quietly hitched at the sound of
those words. “Just checking,” she uttered with flip casualness.
“But why today?”
“Hm-m-m?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you for a long time now that Scout and Summer wouldn’t hurt a child and that you were worrying for nothing, but
you keep on insisting that you don’t want to take that chance,” he answered as he poured out two cups of coffee. “Now, suddenly, today, you change your mind?”
“Look at the size of them, Shmuel! I don’t think they’d deliberately hurt anyone, but kids are… well… kids. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable in
worrying about an accident,” Jodie replied.
Placing both cups on the table and sliding one over to Jody, Shmuel then said, “So, back to my question.”
“Because if it’s ever going to change, it has to start someday.” She paused for a moment, remembering a very different conversation
with Shmuel inside the Princess Marina Hospital. “And today is a good day to start, no?”
Shmuel smiled at her, clapping his hands together once as was his wont. “Yes… today is a good day to start!”
They sipped the hot liquid in silence and, keeping his word, Shmuel rose from the table after only another minute. “I will get the children
ready. How much time do you need?”
“I’ll take fifteen minutes, if you… uh, they can wait that long.”
“That’ll be fine,” he said as he headed towards the front door, the two Bernadoodles following him like escorts. “See you soon.”
The door latching shut after Shmuel’s exit, Jodie let out an audible sigh of relief, tremors shaking her hands. She might have thought
adapting to this new world wasn’t going to be so terribly difficult, but if the half-hour was any indication, it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk either. With the million things of everyday life, the subtle gestures and personal histories that flow one second to the next, she was bound to get tripped up at some point.
Without knowing that she’d been reluctant to take the dogs to the park where the kids played, Shmuel’s surprise had surprised her. She’d
just thought it a good idea to go exploring this world with Shmuel as her guide. She huffed, trying to push out the anxiety that had welled up inside her with a breath. I’m in deep shit. The idea of recounting her recent experience with a world-changing climax was going to remain a secret if she
didn’t want people to question her sanity, the lock on its revelation even stronger than the one she’d used after the blood pooling out incident from Cain’s stone in the desert.
Still, she had to find a way to infiltrate this world and missteps were inevitable; she knew that. And then came a second revelation.
It isn’t this world anymore; it’s mine. It might not be the same world she’d known, but here she was and there was no going back. A moment later
and riding on the coattails of that thought came the realization that she needed Cain’s stone, needed to tap into the bliss that it offered if she was, indeed, going to be ready in just a few minutes. Pushing herself up and out of the chair with renewed vim, she made her way to the sofa—the last place she remembered having handled it—and there it was, pressed between the cushions.
Like a fish seeking its return to the life-sustaining waters of the sea, she lunged towards it, holding her breath in anticipation of the relief just there, moments away from obtaining renewed equilibrium in her impossible situation. Gripping it gently as she lifted, she once again brought it to her breast, welcoming the mild sense of euphoria bathing the edges of her consciousness. She let her eyes close as she feasted upon the familiar feeling of all is right in the world headiness, wanting no visuals to distract her from the pastoral sense of connectivity in which she was immersed. A slow exhale, quiet and unhurried, marked her return to the intimacy of this dreamlike intoxication, far removed from the ordinal insistence of thoughts that normally drove her—a methodology that lost all meaning now that the world she’d known and the life she’d lived were gone forever.
Only scant seconds after her enthralling reconnection, she felt Cain’s stone sputter and, despite her desire to linger in its soothing balm, the effect skittered back to the nothingness from which it emanated. Reluctance governing the state of her disappointment, she opened her eyes again. It didn’t scare her this time, she’d been privy to it happening before—Cain’s stone suddenly thrown into sleep mode—when she’d gone to the trailer while still out in the Kalahari. At least I know it’s still working, she thought.
Her quick jaunt into Cain’s stone’s sphere of influence did nothing, however, to allay her overriding problem—still facing the daunting task of having to maneuver through the million moments of idle conversation. When it arrived—and there was little doubt in her mind that it would—it’d arrive without warning, without time enough to formulate a reasonable counter-argument. That, more than anything else, scared her, an overwhelming yang to the yin of her ordinal habit.
If much of her future remained unclear, she told herself she needed to take charge of what she could control. She took a deep breath, staring straight ahead out the window at nothing in particular, brooding over the fact that the ephemeral nature of the problem had no concrete formula for its resolution. Predictability did have its math, but not in this case.
Well… there’s the Bible, and even though it’s a little different, is part of this world. Judeo-Christian ethic—that’s a biggie. Okay… okay. Second, Cain’s stone… Fuck! How am I going to explain why I don’t want to rid myself of this black rock and its sudden appearance to Ricky?!
Her mind, in keeping with her stare, went blank. After a few seconds, the only option she could see was keeping it from him. There seemed no
second choice, but it was risky. Unless… It took a moment for the idea to coalesce in her head, but once there, it solidified. Letting the stone fall
back on the sofa cushion, she went into the kitchen, Scout and Summer following her in. She opened the cabinet doors, wondering how much she’d have to rummage through a new layout, but found that however different this world might be, a great deal of it hadn’t changed at all. Her dishes were in exactly the same location in both kitchens. What’s more, they were the same set she owned. A quick scan of the drawers—open and close—revealed that both were identical as well. She breathed a sigh of relief and happened to have glanced at Summer whose expression appeared to be asking what the hell she was doing, why all the ruckus? Jodie reacted with a chuckle; it felt good. “I don’t know, girl,” she
answered the dog. “Mama’s just a worry wart.”
Okay… okay… just prep the dog stuff. She’d done it hundreds of times before, reaching into the laundry closet and pulling out the tote bag she carried when taking the dogs out. Setting it on the counter, she returned to the sofa and took hold of Cain’s stone again—still in disappointing
idle—and placed it in the bottom of the tote. Then she carried the bag to the cabinet where she kept the dogs’ treats and added them, continuing on to the toy chest and grabbing two balls and their Frisbee. From there, she headed to the refrigerator, pulling out three bottles of water, two for them and one for herself before topping the bag with a large towel she always used to wipe the dogs’ paws before entering back into the apartment after a walk.
She nodded, an affirmation that her idea was sound. Meanwhile, the dogs were now jumping, as if for joy, their tails wagging with furious
energy after having seen the towel go into the bag. To them, it meant only one thing: walkies.
Done! One down and one to go, she thought as she went to use the bathroom. Passing the mirror, she glanced over, deciding that she
should probably change out of her tee shirt. It had witnessed a world on the brink of mass suicide; had traveled back through countless millennia to the biblical dawn of man and only God knows how far across the vastness of the universe to arrive at the Almighty’s feet; had been tattered to molecular nothingness; and had, restitched, crossed into an alternative world, there to land on a familiar sofa. It looked none the worse for wear for all that except a small, white stain on its front between her boobs—likely caused by the cheese blintz filling that had fallen there while she broke fast—prompted her decision to pull it off and throw it in the laundry hamper.
She laughed at the irony. Laughed harder every time the thought replayed in her head, laughed so hard she had to hurry the last two
steps to the toilet lest she dribble some pee in her panties or, worse still, on the tile floor.
Finished a few seconds later, Jodie flushed the commode and walked into the bedroom to grab a clean shirt. There too, she found the
wardrobe unchanged, one world to the next. Small victories. Donning her Bernadoodle Lover sweatshirt, she did a quick check in the full length mirror on the wall, pulling on the bottom of the hoodie to smooth out a small fold, and decided she was ready.
Just then, both Summer and Scout began their whisper bark—something between a full-on bark and a whimper—informing Jodie that company was just outside the door. As the dogs made their way to greet the expected guests, Jodie made her way to the kitchen and grabbed the dogs’ leashes before slinging the tote bag on her shoulder.
“Fifteen on the dot,” Shmuel said when Jodie opened the door.
She nodded her answer before turning her attention the children. “Hi Jacob… Hi Rachel,” Jodie greeted them. Jacob waved his hello in
reply, but Rachel was too busy petting the dogs to pay social expectations any mind. The smile plastered on her little face said it all.