The Revelations by Erik Hoel (some good books to read TXT) 📗

she had experienced one last inter-regnum which had landed her back firmly in the dream where she had been standing in shock facing the monkey down the hallway, Kierk’s legs splayed out as the elevator closed on them, and the monkey had oriented itself in his chair toward her and was now smiling in a way that only a human could smile.

The whole process of remembering the dream had taken a total of three myoclonic jerks.

Carmen sits up on the edge of the bed, realizing that she had fallen asleep holding Kierk’s notebook. She feels it had become incorporeal and seeped into her psyche like a perverted inside-out dream catcher—there had been enigmatic hints like This time I must swim out further, swim so far that the choice to return to shore is no longer viable, or Twenty-seven is the year in which I must either bloom or wilt, for this stasis has become monstrously unstable, and other things of that sort. It was almost as if these thoughts had summoned the dream to her, like words on the subject of consciousness spoken in the right order could conjure something from another realm.

She calls him again, for what must be the twentieth time.

“The person you are calling has a voicemail box that has not been set up.”

Carmen is in a holding pattern designed to strip away the hours. She’s feeling calmer now that she’s gotten breakfast and taken it back to her hotel room. But all morning the absence of Kierk has been popping into her head, a question mark floating over her.

She spends an hour convincing AT&T to put a trap on her phone, so that if that . . . voice calls her again, she can get the number. Feeling slightly more secure now that an action has been taken, she dials her mom.

At the happy exclamation of her mother as she answers the phone Carmen almost breaks down and weeps. She’s so close to telling her everything, but she can imagine the immense worry that her mother would have, and her ineffectiveness, fear, and lack of understanding. Instead Carmen just wants to have a normal conversation, to experience the totally safe and standard world her mom inhabits. They end up chatting for an hour about the most mundane topics Carmen can guide them to.

Eventually she’s saying—“The Crick program is going really well for me. I’ve met . . . some interesting people. Some great people.”

“Any of these ‘great people’ men who happen to be in the program with you? You know, someone who shares your interests. Because that’s always been a problem with you, honey. You have such abstract interests. Very high-minded.”

Carmen sighs. “Yes, Mom, there are also men in the program.”

“You know what I meant. Don’t paint me like I’m so obvious.”

“I know what you meant, yes. I’ll have to let you know, Mom.”

“You can’t blame me for asking. I’m just asking.”

“I know, Mom.”

“So you did meet someone then?”

“God, Mom, I don’t know, okay. I’m trying to figure some things out. Some important things.”

“Are you mad at me? Again? Just my asking how you are is enough to make you mad now?!”

“No, no . . . Mom, it’s fine. I’m sorry, I just . . . things have been difficult here. Can I come up? I want to stay with you for a few days.”

“Of course, hun! I’m always happy to have you. You know that. I know there was a time when it seemed, well . . . Anyways, I thought you said it was going well. Why come over?”

“Weird might be a better word? Like really weird.”

“Like what? Like some of the people in the program?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Well, if work itself is going well that’s really good. And it helps that you had that article thing that was really important?”

“Yes. The article I published in Nature.”

“That’s the journal right?”

“Yes. Nature. The scientific journal.”

“Well, I have it, honey. It’s on the fridge.” Carmen hears the sound of rustling pages, like her mom is holding the phone near it and playing with the pages.

“That’s great. Did you read it?”

“Of course I read it.”

“It’s just like, a really big deal.”

“I read it! You know . . . I mean, it’s very interesting. Some of it, you know, whooooosh. To be honest, honey, I stopped trying to understand everything you did in high school. You would come home with some project or something. I used to brag so much about the books you would read. I couldn’t shut up. Your aunt would be like, just be quiet and stop noticing what the girl is doing. Because if you get all weird about it it’s going to change how she feels about it. And we would have debates about this. All the time. You never knew. But we did. Because different kids have different styles. Different needs, you know, to be ignored or encouraged. But you’ll learn that. You’ll find out all about that. You’re going to be so surprised. Because it never turns out how you think it will with kids. You used to be such a little princess when you were really young. You were always running around? Do you remember that? Always wearing pretty dresses you would pick out yourself. You could be so stubborn about them. Already stylish. Do you remember that?”

Carmen can’t help it—“Those were for the pageants, and it’s not like I was the one out there with a platinum credit card buying them.”

“. . . Oh says you. And then you got to high school and like some flip just got switched! It just got switched. And everyone could see it. Your father was always saying, you know—‘Where’d my little girl go? Where’d my little girl go?’ Just like that. Not that he was angry or sad. Just bewildered. We never thought you’d be a scientist. And I’m not trying to be, well, you know, but you were so beautiful. You are so beautiful now. But growing up you were like an