An Infinite Number of Parallel Universes (17 page)

Sam rolls his eyes.

“Why don't you come to Seattle with us?” Archie asks.

Mari turns to him in disbelief.

“Sweet of you to offer,” Sunshine says, “but one thing about life on the road is that there's no use over-planning, no use fighting for control. You have to learn to go where the road takes you. To let go of what you think matters when you must. To accept the fact that you can't see over the next hill. This hill? It's telling me Chicago.”

“Do you have a job?” Sam asks.

“Being one with the Universe.”

“Does that pay well?” Archie asks with a smile.

“Better than most people realize.”

Sam scoffs. “So how do you buy anything? How do you get anywhere?”

“Blowjobs mostly,” Sunshine says.

Everyone raises an eyebrow. Archie clears his throat and drops his voice an octave to ask, “Really?”

Mari slaps his shoulder, causing the car to swerve a bit.

“No,” Sunshine says, laughing. “Not really. I'm gay, remember?”

Archie deflates.

Sunshine peeks around Sam and looks at Dante. “You are, too, yeah?”

Everyone looks at Dante. His face hot, he drops his eyes and shakes his head. “Um. No.”

“Huh,” Sunshine says. “My gaydar's usually pretty reliable.”

Mari notices Dante shift in his seat. “Anyone need to pee?” she asks, changing the subject. “I think there's a rest stop coming up.”

After a few more miles, they spot the signs. When they reach the exit, they pull into the rest area, which is crowded with Saturday travelers. After nearly crashing into several cars and almost hitting some poor, unsuspecting family, Archie successfully parks. It is a crooked, minor miracle. Everyone piles out and sucks in the fresh air.

They stretch their limbs, and Archie hands the keys back to Mari.

“Ten minutes,” Sam says, and then walks away, a cigarette already between his lips.

Archie, Dante, Mari, and Sunshine stroll toward the main building together until the path splits toward the men's and women's restrooms.

“Sorry about Sam,” Mari says as she walks inside with Sunshine.

“Nothing to be sorry for. He's just hurting,” Sunshine says, heading into a stall.

Mari picks the one next to her, arranges toilet paper around the seat, and then sits.

“But,” Sunshine calls from her stall, “he does need to learn that women are not items to be ‘won.' That's probably a large part of the reason she dumped him. But he'll probably learn that soon enough.”

Mari considers whether she wants to participate in a conversation while urinating. “Yeah,” she finally says. Thankfully, Sunshine doesn't add anything further.

They both flush, emerge from their stalls at the same time, and then walk over to the sinks.

“So what's going on with you and Archie?” Sunshine asks.

Mari keeps her eyes focused on the water. “What about us?”

“I might have been wrong about Dante, but I'm not wrong about you guys. It's pretty obvious. What I don't get is why you're both pretending like there's nothing there.”

“I don't know,” Mari admits, meeting Sunshine's eyes in the mirror. “It's kind of weird. We hung out the other night. It was nice, but things got weird. And we haven't talked about it yet or anything.”

“Why not?”

“I think we both just have too much going on in our lives right now. Bad timing, you know?”

“But wouldn't it be nice to have someone to go through that stuff with?” Sunshine asks.

Mari considers this.

“You have a convenient excuse,” Sunshine says, taking a paper towel from the wall dispenser. She dries her hands, balls the paper, and tosses it into the garbage. “But the heart doesn't give a fuck about timing.”

“You don't understand.”

“Whatever.” Sunshine pulls a small baggie out of her purse and then a square of thin paper. Mari realizes that she's about to roll a joint. “Want to smoke up?” Sunshine asks, noticing Mari staring.

“Um, no, thanks. I'll see you back at the car.”

The downtown Chicago skyline looms on the other side of the water. The sun hangs high overhead. Seagulls swoop in wide circles, chattering and squawking.

Archie, Sam, Dante, and Mari sit on the tiered cement steps that stretch the length of the pier in front of the planetarium. They drink in the view, enjoying the feel of the wind and the scent of the fresh lake air. Children hop on and off the steps around them, balloons tied to their wrists.

Dante looks down at the book in his hands. The edges of the pages are dyed red. He examines the worn, black cover. It features a small, square abstract painting with the title of the book below it in misaligned words.
The Road
by Jack Kerouac.
A little heavy-handed
, Dante thinks.

He pulls out a scrap of paper tucked between the pages like a bookmark. It contains the contact information for Sunshine's friends in Minnesota.

Sam snatches the novel from Dante's hands and flips through it. “I can't believe this is all she gave us. We drive her a couple hundred miles, and she can't even pay for a tank of gas?”

Archie steals the book from Sam and then hands it back to Dante.

“I liked her,” Dante says, smoothing his hand over the book's cover. “She was honest.”

“Too bad she was a lesbian,” Archie says.

Mari asks, “So what?”

Archie holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Just kidding. Geez. Don't hit me.” He starts giggling.

“What?” Mari asks.

“Sorry, I was just remembering that time Sam got punched. Remember, Sam? The first year we played D&D, when we used to use Ms. Prescott's classroom after school.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, looking away. “I remember.”

How could he forget the first time in his life he was really hit hard? After the punch he had slumped in the empty school hallway, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the lockers. His hair was a mess. His left cheek was bright with broken blood vessels and continuing to swell. Blood trickled from his nose, staining his white shirt with droplets so dark they looked brown—nothing like the bright red in the movies.

His backpack was on the ground a few feet away, ripped open, its contents scattered across the floor like an archipelago. Pain radiated from the center of his face. His vision was blurry. He felt like he was going to throw up.

Bearing a handful of paper towels, Archie had been the first on the scene. And then Dante, and then Mari. Was Sarah there? He can't recall. But he does remember the blood. It seemed like it would never stop. He was worried he'd run out. Not long after he had pressed a fresh wad of paper towels to his nose, it would be soaked completely through.

And then Mari had pulled out a tampon. It was the first time any of the boys had ever seen one up close. At first, in its white plastic, he thought it might be a small popsicle or something. But then she ripped open the packaging and pushed the plunger on the plastic applicator, exposing the stubby, condensed wad of cotton with a string dangling from the end. The boys cringed, recognizing it from sex ed. Then Mari had cut it in half with a pair of scissors that Archie grabbed from a classroom, and she shoved a segment into each of Sam's nostrils.

Archie had taken a picture with his phone.

Everyone must remember this at the same time, because sitting on the steps overlooking Lake Michigan, they all start laughing. Even Sam.

“I wonder if I still have that picture,” Archie says, shaking with laugher.

“Remind me,” Mari says, “why'd that kid punch you?”

“I don't even remember,” Sam says.

“I do,” Archie says. “The kid called me a ‘geeky fag.' So Sam pushed him.”

Mari shakes her head. “Boys.”

“Oh, please,” Archie says. “You just don't understand what it's like to grow up male in this world.”

Mari raises her eyebrows. “Enlighten me.”

“It's just like in Warcraft,” Archie says. “Nobody's going to mess with the leveled-up, badass-looking avatar. They're too afraid. So they skirt around him, let him do as he pleases. Meanwhile, the noobs and mid-levels have to be vigilant, or they'll be torn apart. It's a simple matter of survival of the fittest.”

“That's just a video game, Arch.”

“That's real life, too, Mari. And despite our morality and our intellect, it'll always be that way for guys. We're evolutionarily hardwired to respect strength and despise weakness. I'm not saying I agree with it. That's just the way it is.”

Mari shakes her head. “It's only that way because you guys believe it has to be that way.”

“Don't hate the player,” Archie says. “Hate the game.”

“He's right,” Sam says.

Dante nods.

“Of course I'm right,” Archie says. “So what are our options? One: find a body switching device and trade with Dante. Two: lift weights and pray for a growth spurt. Three: bide our time, hone our intelligence, and then crush our male competitors with our eventual economic success. Personally, I think I'm making progress on the latter two fronts.”

“And they say girls are vain.” Mari says. “Wait—I don't remember—was Sarah there?”

“No,” Sam answers, finally remembering. “She was at a student council meeting or something. Anyways, let's get going. We've wasted enough time.”

“But there's so much to do here,” Archie says, arms outstretched toward the city. “Deep dish pizza. That giant silver bean. Da Bears. Let's see the sights, stay the night, and be on our way in the morning.”

“Do we have enough money for all of that?” Mari asks.

Archie drops his arms. “No.”

Sam stands. “We can stop to eat here on the way back.”

Dante nods and rises. Archie sighs. Mari walks over, takes one of his hands, and leads him back to the car.

“One hill at a time, Arch,” she says. “One hill at a time.”

“Shit. Anybody have signal?” Sam says.

He waves his phone around as if it will make a difference.

It does not.

Everyone checks their phones and finds the same problem.

“So where am I supposed to go?” Dante asks, turning off the radio and peering into the night.

“If I remember the map correctly,” Archie says, “we've only got a couple more turns. For now, just keep on keepin' on.”

Dante rubs his eyes to better concentrate on the portion of the narrow dirt road illuminated by the headlights. Dense trees press in on either side, and beyond that, darkness and silence.

Mari yawns. “We haven't seen another car in like an hour. I think we've pushed our luck too far. We're definitely getting murdered this time.”

“Don't blame me. I wanted to keep driving,” Sam says, leaning back.

“Need I remind you we're all sleep deprived? You're welcome to take the wheel,” Mari says.

Sam doesn't respond.

“Here,” Archie says, pointing to an unmarked intersection up ahead. “Go right.”

Dante brings the car to a stop and looks where a street sign should be. “Are you sure?”

Archie closes his eyes and rubs his temples with his forefingers as if divining truth. “Yes."

Dante turns to Mari and Sam in the back seat. Sam continues looking out the window. Mari nods. Dante sighs, rubs the tiredness out of his eyes once more, and turns right.

The road narrows even further, as though it is fighting a losing a battle against the surrounding vegetation. Some creature darts across their path.

“Yup,” Mari says, tilting her head to find the moon through the tangle of branches overhead. “Murdered.”

A few minutes later, they begin to traverse a series of small hills. Rising and dipping and curving around blind corners, they drive in silence. The road then settles into a gradual ascent that peaks after a mile or so. They follow it downhill until it opens up.

“We're on a bridge,” Mari says.

The trees on either side have disappeared. In their place is a dark body of water, its vastness measurable by points of light that could be houses or campfires that ring its shores. Above them, the sky is clear and crowded with stars and a moon fat with light.

Archie sits up and readjusts his glasses. “Yeah, I remember this on the map. Lake Somethingrather. Hang a left once we cross the bridge and then that should take us to the guy's house.”

Dante follows Archie's directions and soon enough they find themselves on the correct route. They scan the mailboxes that line the road, and it's not long before they locate the house number of their destination. Dante turns down the drive, steers them along its long and winding track, and then parks next to a couple of other cars that sit in front of a large house that looks like an upscale log cabin.

“You're welcome,” Archie says.

They all hop out of the car and stretch. The droning buzz of insects reverberates through the air.

They make their way to the front door, and Mari rings the bell. “Here's to getting murdered.” She winks at Archie.

They wait for several moments, but nobody answers. Mari presses the button again. They hear a chime within, but nobody comes to the door.

“Let's just go to a hotel,” Sam says.

“We don't have enough money,” Archie says.

“Then we can sleep in the car at a rest stop,” Sam says.

Just as Mari's about to knock, they hear a burst of distant laughter.

“They must be outside,” she says and then starts walking around the house. The others follow her, too tired to argue.

Turning the corner, they find four men reclining in lawn chairs around a bonfire, drinking from red plastic cups. Their smiling faces are lit by the orange glow of the fire. One of them says something and they all break out in laughter. Beyond a small cluster of trees, the lake's presence downhill can be felt more than seen.