Move (6 page)

Not a god? Well, that was a very short-lived contemplation on being divine. It had lasted about as long as it took me to eat a biscuit. It was true, though. I knew I was no god. I couldn’t imagine Jesus or the disciples loving football as much as I did, or enjoying lying on the sofa on Sundays, watching Formula 1 with my dad. They’d be out and about doing something much more worthwhile, especially on Sundays.

‘Tara tells me that you have recently had a very painful
experience
.’

‘Yeah, it’s been hell in school this week. No one is speaking to me. They think I sent her this.’

When Geoffrey read the card, he flinched. A moment later, he lifted his deep brown eyes and looked across at Tara with an expression of concern.

‘Are you alright?’

‘Fine, really. Everyone in class is being so kind to me. It’s more than made up for Valentine’s Day.’

‘Good.’ He looked carefully at the card, and then set it down flat on the table.

‘There was a card that I’d made for Tara. It was a really cool one, very romantic, even if I do say so myself. I’d put a Persian
prince on the front, which I’d cut out from a picture I’d bought in the Chester Beatty Museum. But when I opened my bag to show it to my friend Zed, it had gone.’

Once I had finished explaining myself, there was silence while Geoffrey studied the card again, without picking it up. Up until now I had been feeling quite cheerful. After all, I was with Tara. It was nearly a date, sort of. Then meeting this man had made me think about my ability to move in an interesting way. But there was something about the intense scrutiny that Geoffrey was giving to the card that made me feel cold.

‘Do you sense something wrong about it?’ I asked him.

He nodded. ‘I do.’

‘You believe me when I say I can see into nearby universes?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, normally every object around me is flowing away from this moment. There are millions of alternatives, even some pretty remote ones where this table itself collapses. Everything is fluid until I fasten on one particular universe – everything, that is, except for that card. It is solid. It has been fixed in some way. It’s creepy. It is in all the possible universes I can see. I can’t get away from it. There is some kind of intelligence at work here. What happened on Valentine’s Day must have been deliberate.’

‘Yes,’ he murmured solemnly. ‘Did you ever meet anyone else like you?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘Ever feel yourself exchange universes involuntarily?’

‘I don’t think so. When I move, I feel dizzy for a moment. It
takes a few seconds for my memories to settle down. The only time I’ve had that feeling is after I’ve moved from my own choice. I think that if I was somehow made to move, I’d still get the disorientation and the extra memories.’

Neither Tara nor I spoke, but Geoffrey’s face became more sombre still.

‘Do you have any more examples, like this card, or anything unusual recently?’

‘Well, I had a dream like I’ve never had before. It was really
intense
. I was starving, forever and ever. But it wasn’t food I wanted, it was dark powerful emotions. And I got them. I plunged in, right among them. If I hadn’t woken up, I’d still be filling myself with them and the more I felt angry or jealous or guilty, the more I felt I had to keep going, to taste something stronger.’

Speaking like this frightened me and I got no reassurance from the other two. Tara was looking worriedly at Geoffrey, who was pale, his elbows on the table, hands clasped together, pressing on his lips.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Tara.

‘Did you ever read about “hungry ghosts”?’

Tara nodded. ‘I did. You don’t think a hungry ghost is to blame?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘But I thought they were just metaphorical.’

‘No. They are real.’

As soon as I had heard the words ‘hungry ghost’, a shiver had run through me. The hairs on my arms had risen and my eyes moistened.

‘It seems to me possible that a hungry ghost is among us. In which case this,’ he touched the card, ‘is just the start.’

‘What’s a hungry ghost?’ Even saying the words was chilling.

‘If a being lived a particularly unwholesome life, like a human who habitually tortured and murdered others, they might be
reborn
as a demon. There are many kinds of demon; the hungry ghosts are the kind which are almost pure destructive appetite. They are depicted in the early texts as having small mouths with giant distended stomachs. Here …’ He got up from the table and picked out a book from his shelves, it was bound in leather and the pages were yellowing. Finding the page he wanted, he put it on the table and my heart stopped.

The sketch was of a demon, teeth razor-sharp, eyes as cold and greedy as those of a shark. The expression on its face was of intense desire and I recognised it at once. Far away a man on a gallows was jerking his body, trying to force the passage of air through the unyielding grip of the rope pulled tight around his throat. That was me. That was how I felt, utterly winded by shock and fear. Echoes of suppressed nightmares surged out of the dark spaces from between the universes and I was drowning in them while the other two simply carried on talking. Did they not see that just looking at the picture had stricken me, bringing tears to my eyes and a raggedness to my breath?

‘What does it want?’ asked Tara, looking across to Geoffrey, oblivious to my reaction.

‘Some, who perhaps were avaricious as humans, want wealth. Others, the gluttons, want food. There are hungry ghosts for every kind of untrammelled desire.’

‘And one of them is here among us, seeking negative emotions?’

‘So it seems, from Liam’s dream and this malicious card.’

‘The hungry ghost gave me the card? Why?’ Tara was trying to make sense of it all.

‘To feed upon the harm it caused to you and Liam.’

‘But why me? Why Liam?’ She looked at me, her expression turning to surprise, probably at the fact there were the tears in my eyes.

‘I don’t know.’ Geoffrey’s voice was soft, concerned.

If Zed or someone else from the class heard us talking like this, they would have thought us crazy. But they hadn’t felt the strangeness of the universes that would not let me move away from the card, nor had they experienced my terrible dreams.

Both Geoffrey and Tara were looking at me now and, in the silence, the shock that had overtaken me when I was shown the picture of the hungry ghost was fading.

‘Fine.’ I suddenly had strength to reach across and close the book, hiding the picture. ‘How do we destroy it?’

‘Ha!’ Geoffrey surprised me by slapping his hand on the table, causing the card to bounce. ‘That’s the spirit. I admire the bravery of your response. Destroy it. Yes, that’s what we will have to find out. In the meantime, I think that we should teach you how to meditate. It can’t do you any harm and it might do a lot of good.’

Uncountable new estates have come into being around Dublin, supplanting the fields and surrounding the city with a ring of pristine toy dwellings. Tara and her family lived in one of these. Rowanstown was about thirty minutes walk from our street, which was way cooler, being in old Cabra and all.

Each time I rang her doorbell, I really hoped that it would not be her parents who answered it. Even with Tara telling them that it wasn't me who sent the card their faces expressed clear disapproval of me.

This time the blurred figure that loomed up through the rippled glass was Tara. Good, although there was still her dog to deal with. Rascal, a little Jack Russell, was a pain, leaping about, barking with enthusiasm. But I had to smile for her sake
and pretend to be charmed.

‘Come in.'

The three of us went into the front room. It had a polished wooden floor and Rascal scrabbled for purchase as he lashed around, sniffing at my feet and yapping.

‘He's excited to see you.'

‘So I see.'

Sitting down could not be avoided and, of course, Rascal
immediately
tried to climb up my legs, panting eagerly. I pushed him aside, gently. He was straight back at it.

‘Down, Rascal, down!'

Tara leaned forward apologetically. Her hair was loose and it gathered at her shoulder before the distinct strands cascaded forward to cover her face. She flicked them back with a jerk of her head and our eyes met.

‘I'm sorry, Tara. I'm not going to be able to concentrate with Rascal in the room.'

‘I know, but let's just get him used to your being here, or he'll be whining at us all night.'

That made sense, so I held out my hand for him to lick and petted him a little.

‘What's the plan?' I asked her.

‘Meditation first, then try you at some numbers.'

‘Numbers are getting boring. It's hard to motivate myself.'

‘I know but here.' She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a pink lotto ticket. ‘I was wondering: can you change the numbers on this?'

‘How do you mean?'

‘Can you change universes to one where the numbers here are different?'

Interesting. I tried and there it was. So I moved.

‘It worked,' I said.

‘Did it? I don't see any change?'

‘No, you wouldn't, because you've always been in this
universe
. But when we began the conversation, I was in one where there was no number 23 on that ticket.'

‘Great. I was thinking it might be more fun for you to see the numbers as they're being drawn at eight and try to match them.'

‘That's a really good idea.'

‘In the meantime, you should do some more meditation.'

‘Go on, then.'

It took Tara a few minutes to persuade Rascal to leave the room, and to get two mats to throw down on to the floor. While she was busy with her beloved pet, I stretched out on the
luxurious
and expensive sofa. It was good to be in her house. I'd come a long way from when I first tried to chat to her. Did she like me now? Did she fancy me even?

One advantage of having a missing foot was that Tara could sit comfortably in the lotus position. The fact that she wasn't shy about unstrapping it in my presence I took as a great
compliment
. The lotus position was too uncomfortable for me, though. I just sat cross-legged on my mat, something I hadn't done with this kind of regularity since first or second class.

‘Concentrate on your breathing. Don't try to alter it, just be aware of it.' Tara was much more practised at meditation than I was.

In and out. In, out. Once I began to think about it, my cycle of breathing became slower, more relaxed.

‘Let your thoughts fall away.'

This was the tricky part. Either I felt sleepy, which wasn't the point, or I couldn't control the way that thoughts just popped up. Sometimes fragments of music came to mind, which was deadly, in the bad sense of the word. But more often it was just clutter. Like, I meant to get some new batteries for our TV's remote control, but I'd forgotten on the way over. There was O'Grady's newsagents. I could call into it on the way back; it stayed open late. See? To get away from the junk in my head, I went back to my breathing. In and out. In, out.

This time I became very conscious of the fact that Tara was sitting on her mat, right beside me. Her inhalations were just loud enough to hear and I found that my own breathing slowed, matching hers. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her body and I became aware of her slight motion, a gentle rhythm of life under her cotton T-shirt. The images in my mind were far from empty, tranquil and calm. Instead I was thinking how easy it would be right now to turn to her and kiss her. Then what would happen? Would she freak? Or would she welcome it? Our bodies pressed together, lying together on the floor.
Kissing
her soft lips. It was a vivid, ecstatic thought. And I could test it. All I had to do was look in to adjacent universes, see what the possibilities were, even move to the one where my imaginings came true. But something held me back. In some way, it felt
disloyal
to Tara to look at the alternatives. These last few weeks she had been brilliant. If it hadn't have been for her, the class might
have kept up their boycott of me for a long time, but she adamantly insisted to anyone who would listen that I hadn't sent her the card. The fact that we hung out a lot was evident to all, and if the main victim of the offence didn't hold a grudge, it was hard for everyone else to.

So, virtuously, I went back to my breathing. This time I focused on the tip of my nose and the feel of the air as I exhaled and inhaled. The sensation of each was very different. A great relaxation sank through me, from my head down to my feet. The presence of Tara beside me was still a strong one, but now it was that of a companion, supportive and calming. For a moment, I had the kind of balance that Geoffrey had talked about when he had explained meditation to me. My sense of time itself was gone. I just existed in a tranquil effortless state, not really thinking at all.

Eventually, thoughts began to return and foremost among them was the lotto idea. Supposing we won it, we would be millionaires, at least in the universe to which I'd moved in order to have the right ticket.

Checking across at Tara, I could see that she was still in a fairly deep meditative state, her eyes were closed, her hands resting, upturned, on her knees, her breathing deep and slow. The pale skin of her cheek looked soft and cool. I could imagine how it would feel if I ran the back of my hand over it. If I were to have a portrait of Tara, it would be with her sitting like this, totally relaxed, except that her grey eyes would be open, looking back at me.

While waiting for her as patiently and as quietly as I could, I
listened to the sounds of her house. Somewhere above us, there was classical music being played. Nearby, Rascal was restless, often trotting past the door, sometimes pausing for a sniff. At last Tara's breathing changed and she opened her eyes.

‘What time is it?'

I checked my watch. ‘Seven fifteen.'

‘How did that go, any progress?'

‘Yeah, I think so. But maybe I need to do it more on my own.'

Her face fell slightly.

‘Don't get me wrong. I like being here, meditating beside you, but I'm too aware of you – in a good way.' This was
becoming
a bit revealing, so I shut up.

‘I know what you mean. Being alone is probably best.'

The TV flared up, accompanied by a rush of sound. Tara had pressed the remote control. She flicked around the channels. It was really strange to contrast the blare and restless colour of the images with the recent state of calm and peace we had been in. She settled for ‘The Simpsons'.

‘Did you ever see the one where Bart solved a great mystery of Zen Buddhism?' I asked her.

‘No?' She smiled back, curious.

‘You know how the Zen Buddhists like paradoxes?'

‘I do.'

‘Well, one of theirs is: what is the sound of one hand clapping? One episode, someone asked Bart the question and he said, “That's easy”, and he did this.' I flicked the fingers of my right hand against its palm, like I was making a fist, but really fast. It made a definite clapping sound.

‘Ha!' Tara laughed gleefully. ‘That's brilliant.'

We spent the next while fooling around in this way and, before long, we were pretty good at it. This kept us busy until it was time for the lotto draw.

‘Are you ready?' Tara had the ticket. I nodded. ‘Here, you hold it.' She passed it over to me.

While I sat in my meditation position, facing the screen, Tara changed channel to where the presenter, Ronan Collins, was briskly explaining the game, his bright teeth gleaming out of a constant smile. As I began to explore the universes in my
vicinity
, I felt them all, clearer than ever, seething and writhing away from this moment. The colourful balls were released, bouncing around in the transparent box. One came out, 41. It was hard to grasp at alternative universes simply by looking for tiny changes to the markings on the pink paper in my hand. It was easier to find those where my own reactions showed the number was correct.

‘That's one,' I announced, having moved to the universe in which I gave the confirmation.

Already the second number was rolling into place, 13.

‘That's two.' It was easier this time, knowing I could look for my own voice. Before the next ball came down I was ready. 21.

‘Twenty-one,' repeated Ronan Collins from the TV.

‘Three,' I added.

12.

‘Four.'

37.

‘Five.'

4.

‘Six.'

This was easiest of all. There were very marked differences between the nearby universes, revealing as if in a bright beam those in which we had got all six numbers, including ones where Tara and I were leaping about hugging each other. Naturally that's the one I moved to.

‘Amazing, it's just incredible.' Tara held me tight, for a few glorious seconds, dependent upon me to keep her balance. Then she broke away to look at me, her eyes sparkling. Basking in her admiration, I was taken completely by surprise when her expression became impish and she snatched the ticket from me.

‘Just think, this bit of paper is worth two million euro.' She waved it before my face.

‘Yeah, cool huh?'

She tore it in half.

‘What the …! I swear to God … Tara!'

Putting the two pieces of the ticket together, she tore them again, and again. I shut my open mouth, shocked. The winning ticket was a pile of pink fragments in the palm of her hand. She brushed them into a wastepaper basket.

‘I don't get it.'

Tara sighed. ‘True. You really don't. Can't you see that money is irrelevant? This was a training exercise.'

‘So it was. But, like, that's a million each.'

‘If you really need money, although I don't see why you should with your ability, you could just do it again, win it for yourself.'

‘What about you, though? Don't you want money?'

‘It's useful. But if I understand what's happening, you have picked the universe where you won. But in millions of
universes
, we didn't win, right?'

‘True enough.' I could vaguely feel them, fading away from me.

‘Well, in some universes we won; in most we lost. Are there any universes where I attack you with a kitchen knife?'

‘There are not. Well, I can't check them all, but I doubt it.'

‘Same here. And think about Geoffrey, can you see him being cruel? Or violent?'

I didn't know Geoffrey as well as Tara did, but I did know her, so I shook my head.

‘See, in some universes you are rich, in others poor, and you can probably swap between them very easily. But what you can't swap, what you, all of us, have to work on, is who we are. And I don't think you would be a better person with a million euro in the bank, do you?'

‘I'd be just the same,' I replied resentfully, ‘only I could buy a cool place to live, move out from my parents. Also get some decent gear for my band.'

‘I'm telling you, Liam. You give yourself things like that for free and you pay a price in terms of your own development. When you are old, and you've had everything you wanted all your life, always side-stepped the problems and difficulties, what kind of person do you think you'll be? You'll be nothing. No one will respect you and you won't respect anyone else. You know what will happen after you die? You'll be a hungry ghost,
seeking all the emotions that you never had while you lived.'

Nobody likes being lectured to in this way and I was angry that she thought me so shallow. It wasn't like a load of money would make me a bad person. Winning the lotto had taken a lot of effort, and I was almost annoyed enough to seek out a
universe
where I hadn't let her grab the ticket. But I let the feeling pass with a shrug.

‘Maybe you're right.'

‘Don't you think that this is important? That somehow your choices matter?'

‘Not really. Lighten up a bit Tara. Moving is a lot of fun.'

She looked worried at this. ‘Have you forgotten that card already? Because I haven't.'