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Since I was a child kept seeing different versions of the present. I often saw and talked to a person who was like my real mom, if only she was not sick. And that was why, even though my actual mom was trapped in her own world most of the time, I did not feel motherless. My second mother was often with me, my mother “if only not (sth)”. I have too vague memories of my childhood to tell when I started seeing her or how often she appeared, but I think the more my real mother withdrew into her world, the more I sought comfort with my other mother.
My father once overheard me talking to my other mother and was very worried. He was afraid that I was sick, just as my mother.
Though I did not feel sick.
But no one listened to me.
Then I understood that this is something I have to hide. I did not tell my father that the doctor’s medication did nothing. I also never again spoke to my other mother whenever someone could hear me.
When I was older, I understood why my father and doctor did not believe that I did not hallucinate. I honestly began to wonder whether I had a rare childhood onset schizophrenia, resistant to antipsychotic drugs – I began to read about the experiences of people diagnosed with schizophrenia and I could not resist the impression that these were not my experiences at all. My visions have always been very clear and orderly, like a movie that involuntarily plays itself in the background. And they always had one thing in common, which I eventually discovered – they all showed visions of a different present.
In this other present, my mother was not sick, my father was more often smiling and free, and my sister, who was now about seven years old, sometimes ran around the house.
In my visions, my sister often chased a white bunny that was always near her. It had been alive for as long as I could remember my first visions of sister, and it was still just as lively and surprisingly intelligent, and the places it usually ran away to never seemed accidental – I could tell it was not an ordinary bunny. Eventually, I began to suspect that it was my sister’s gift, similar to my gift of alternative present’s vision, and that I was not the only person with such a strange ability. However, on the Internet I failed to find any groups of people who have had similar experiences. After searching through thousands of sites that were basically cult’s traps for the weak hearts, I gave up and accepted that even if there was someone like me, I would not find that person.
So since I was a child, I lived in my world, not telling anyone my truth. And yet, even though no one could know my world, I managed to make friends with one person from our class and enter into an official romantic relationship with a girl from a parallel class.
My life was peaceful.
From time to time, my sister would give me a meaningful look and point in the direction in which the rabbit had fled. When I ignored her for too long, unable to discreetly slip away after her, she finally ran away on her own. However, as soon as I could, I took a jacket and said that I was going for a walk, and I followed in her footsteps.
Just like I did now.
“I’ll be back soon, Mom”, I said, not expecting an answer.
Mom slightly lifted her eyes from her socks, which she was folding.
She nodded slightly.
I knew she was still there, even though she could not tell me that.
But I still… felt sadness every time only the echo of my words answered me.
I had vague memories of how she played with me when I was a child. I remember the songs we sang together and how we told each other about our ordinary everyday life. Mom always seemed to be asleep even when she was conscious, but at some point it seemed to me that she went completely silent.
She continued to work as a cleaner and take care of the house – but in her free time, she usually sat in her armchair for hours without saying a word.
I left, not expecting a verbal response.
My sister was already standing by the staircase and started running down as soon as she saw me.
This time the rabbit led us to one of the few tourist attractions in our city – an old estate, now converted into a museum.
I sighed, regretting I was too visible to tell my sister that the entrance was paid.
The bunny had already slipped under the gate, followed by my sister.
I was the only person who actually had to buy myself a ticket.
“The museum closes in half an hour”, said a disgruntled man in the ticket booth.
“I know…”.
I paid for the ticket and began to look for my sister.
She ran across the courtyard and stopped in a heavy door in the east wing, where there was an exhibition of the ancient collection bought by the former owner of this estate, who during his lifetime had been fascinated by ancient history.
As I walked inside, my friend Owen looked at me, and I instinctively looked to the sides to see if anyone was there.
It was empty.
Now there was this strange time when the museum was already open, but it was not yet the tourist season, so even in the evening on Sundays you could find empty rooms here.
Owen did not look surprised either that I was here or that I was looking around. I quickly realized that it was probably Owen from an alternative present.
“This place is so quiet at this time…”, he said quietly.
I watched as he stared at the medium-sized statue of Achilles with the kind of sadness I knew very well.
Owen, like me, rarely let people gaze into his inner garden. Most of the time, he communicated through poetry – there he could freely express his true feelings, knowing that none of the ignorant people who surrounded him on a daily basis would understand the meaning of his beautiful words.
Sometimes when we were alone, he would let me know his real self – the self he would have been if people had not judged him every time he tried to unmask. Most often, however, he hid his precious thoughts behind a veil of silence, and only the discerning ones could catch a glimpse of a sensitive soul hidden behind the mist.
Although he was not my Owen, I felt the need to comfort him. I chose words that I never had the courage to say in reality, although I wanted to…
“To me, the poem you wrote about Achilles was amazing and beautiful”, I said quietly, walking towards him.
I did not know if this Owen was given the assignment to write any form inspired by the Iliad by our literature teacher, but since the versions of the present I saw most often resembled mine, so I gave it a shot.
“I regret submitting the essay about the War of Troy instead”.
“Crab-head would ridicule you in front of the whole class and people would start treating you even worse. You know that teachers in high schools are almost untouchable…”.
He smiled as if that was the only thing he could do in the face of the well-known truth.
All the while, staring at the statue of Achilles, he held out his hand towards me.
A wave of thoughts flooded my head as I grabbed his hand.
Although his expression hardly changed, he seemed happier. As if he managed to steal that bit of happiness that is never given to people.
Were we together in his reality, I wondered.
What about Amanda – my girlfriend?
The vision soon disappeared and I had found neither my sister nor the rabbit in the area, so I went home and laid down on the bed.
I dialed Owen’s number on the phone.
“What’s up?”, I heard his panting voice.
Was he running? Unlikely. Owen never exercised.
One more thought painted a picture in my imagination, but I did not dare to think of it.
“Hello? Are you there?”.
“I am, I am… I was just surprised that you were out of breath. Listen…”, I began, before he could give me the reason for his shortness of breath. “D’you want to go on Friday at five p.m. to see that film that Crab-head recommended us to watch before the test?”.
“…Friday at five… Yeah, I’m free”, his voice seemed surprisingly excited.
“Then tomorrow Amanda will go to buy tickets for the three of us”.
“Oh yes… cool, thanks”.
“I think that’s all… See you tomorrow at school…”.
“See you”.
I put my phone away, closed my eyes, and focused on my breathing, trying to somehow understand what I had seen today.
The next day, on the way to school, the vision of the present that I saw completely knocked me out of my rhythm.
From the distance I saw a green light at the crosswalk and, as usual, I rushed to make it before the red light, ready to run into the street. However, when I ran out of the corner, just before the crossing, I stopped abruptly.
A man with a crushed chest was lying on the crossing, and next to him on the tracks stood a black car, which probably caused this accident. I heard the screeching of the tires and when I looked towards the sound, I saw the same black car. Then I understood that I recognized the face of a man at the crossing.
It was my face.
I felt myself lose my balance and leaned against a traffic light pole. I stayed there until the next green light.
On the first break, I tried to get back to reality to respond somehow to what Owen was saying. He told me about the maroon trousers he had bought and how he had thought about wearing them to school.
“I don’t know”, I said, still thinking about the vision of my death. “It is not forbidden by rules. But you will certainly attract attention”.
In fact, even if I didn’t stop, I would be fine, I thought. That driver stopped just before the crossing. Nevertheless, if only he had not stopped, I might have been dead right now.
What would be left of me if I was dead?
Would there be anything?
Although I expected to survive another half of century without any problems, in fact I could die anytime soon.
I could be dead right now.
Why did I think about it? I already knew that perfectly well…
And yet, this vision really affected me.
The next day, Owen wore his maroon pants to school, and I had to admit that he was right, that the color suited him well.
If I were him, I would never have dared to do such a thing.
I was okay when my true self was hidden. And I preferred not to expose myself to the judgment of others.
But since it was important to him, I was happy that he could be himself.
Then what could be expected happened.
A boy we know well from last year bumped into my shoulder.
“Faggot”, he said to Owen.
And then I saw Owen bow his head, probably regretting his decision.
Usually, at such moments, we continue to our class, where I would comfort my friend. This time, however, something changed in me. After walking about half the corridor since that collision, I turned around abruptly and caught up with that boy.
“Apologize”, I said, grabbing his hand.
He broke free and looked at me with disgust.
“What the fuck?”
“Apologize”, I repeated.
“What for?”
“For calling my friend a faggot”.
“I’m not gonna fucking apologize for that”.
“You will apologize”.
“Fuck off. D’you wanna get beaten?”
“No. But I won’t subside until you apologize to my friend”, I had no idea what I was doing at all.
The boy looked around.
“You wanna talk? We’ll talk. Tomorrow at six p.m. in the park behind the school”.
Tomorrow I had classes until half six, so I did not even have a good excuse.
I was quiet, and the boy finally turned and walked away. Then Owen came up to me from behind.
“Are you nuts? What happened?”.
“He just me pissed me off”, I replied calmly.
In fact, I wondered if I was “nuts”.
I turned around and continued our way to the classroom.
“But’chu can’t fight him one-on-one. He’s gonna fuck you up”, Owen cried.
“Don’ worry, I have no such intention. I’ll take a detour home”.
That probably calmed him down.
I was not surprised that I sounded convincingly – at the time, I was planning to ignore Remi’s challenge.
And then, on the way home, I saw two visions.
These were not exactly visions of the present, but it did not surprise me much – sometimes I saw visions of a potential future. These apparently referred to my choice tomorrow.
In one of these visions, Owen and I were walking to the tram stop nearby the school – it was not our custom, we both lived not far from the school, although in opposite directions, and apparently in this vision of tomorrow we decided that it would be safer for us to return using public transport. What also caught my attention was that Owen was wearing his usual jeans again, and that made me feel a sting of pain.
The second vision I saw when I was walking my typical route home and at some distance from the park behind the school my attention was drawn to a boy huddled on a bench, in whom, despite numerous bruises on his face, I recognized myself. I was surprised that despite his swollen and reddened face, he did not have the reflex to put his hand to the painful area – instead, he kept staring at his right hand, which he held up with his left. I watched him try to calm down despite the pain, until he got up and walked slowly towards the nearest ER.
So this is what my future looks like if I go to that park, I thought.
It was predictable, but still this vision took away all my hopes that I somehow could win against Remi.
On Wednesday, I assured Owen again that I was not going to take part in a pointless conflict.
On Thursday, I came to school with a bruised face and a cast on my right hand from the beginning of my fingers to the elbow.
…
Once upon a time, there was a young man who devoted his whole life to caring for his mother. As long as he and his brother were minors, finding a job that would help mom was problematic, but they managed somehow.
And there was a girl – usually quiet and sad. And maybe that was why these two felt so good in each other’s company.
Than one day, despite the brothers’ efforts, the mother died. The older brother had turned eighteen shortly before that, so no one intervened when they were left to fend for themselves. A few days after his mother’s funeral, the younger brother returned to school, hoping that he would meet that girl there and she would console him.
That day, however, the girl came to school with her head down, her eyes swollen from tears held back.
A young man accustomed all his life to taking care of a close one, who was now gone, immediately put his sadness aside and insisted until the girl told him what had happened.
He touched me... Who? My brother... These words echoed against his cranium.
He did not understand exactly what “touched” meant, but seeing the girl’s deep despair, he stopped at guesses and did not ask for more details.
That same day, he ran to beat the crap out of her brother, then took the girl home.
Together with brother, they agreed that it would be best if the girl slept on what used to be their mother’s bed, and the brothers laid down on their beds in the other room.
However, the girl began to cry, explaining that she did not want to sleep alone, until finally the brothers agreed that the older one would lie down on mother’s old bed, and the younger one and the girl would lie down on separate beds in the same room.
It was then that the younger brother swore to himself that such arrangement was only to allow the girl comfort and that he would not allow himself any indecency. And in fact, he was going to stick to this resolution.
However, the girl knew what “touched” meant, she remembered the warnings of her mother and other women against letting the man in and what it could end with, and she did not feel safe despite trying to wash the hurt area repeatedly. And although no thought could be consciously thought by her at that time, deep inside she knew that if she failed to wash off all the impurity, she would be despised and ridiculed by everyone around her, alone, with no one to help.
It was more due to instinct than a conscious decision to in the middle of the night slip under the young man’s bedsheets.
He remembered his promise and hesitated. However, he was not used to resisting, and in the end the winning thought was that since it was the girl who wanted it, there was nothing wrong with letting her. After all, he was her defender.
Some time later, nausea heralded fact the girl knew would change her life forever.
If she had some money, she could have sought doctors who would relieve her. If she had a female friend who understood her situations, maybe they could use one of the home remedies – she did not have the courage to hurt herself like that, even though she tried.
Nor did she expect the young boy she was using to agree to sacrifice his time and money to help her – when she saw his happiness, when he thought he was becoming a father, her last hope died.
And she began to pretend that she was just as happy as he was.
Although her only happiness was that he believed the child was his.
Even when doubts arose in his head and he asked what exactly “touched” meant, when he saw the girl’s discomfort when recalling the memory, he immediately believed her that he was her first.
Soon after, the economic situation in the country changed.
They managed to get married and get a mortgage for a small apartment, and continued their quiet life as a family with one child.
Until a certain moment, when a man in a hat and a package in his hand knocked on the door.
“Yes?”. The girl opened the door, ready to tell the man that they had not ordered any package.
But then the man forced himself into the apartment, pushing the girl.
She recognized him as the man who had hurt her about eight years ago.
He knew very well that there was no one else here. He had been watching their house for some time. He knew very well that the girl would not be able to call for help so that he would not stop her.
He reveled in his power for a long time before taking what he wanted and leaving.
When the girl’s husband found the door to the house open and his wife crying by the bed, he immediately called the police. The wife refused to say what exactly happened, but she pointed to the drawer under which they hid their savings. Police officers recorded the theft and found and arrested the offender a few days later.
But justice could not wash away the pain.
This time, when the girl tried to cover up what had happened, the man stopped her.
This time, her grief, as she moved greedily towards him, alerted him.
After a series of repeated questions, the girl finally told what had happened.
It was the first time he had done something like that, she swore.
The boy believed her.
He was as ashamed of the whole situation as his wife, but at the same time he made a decision in his head that he would take on this responsibility and, if she got pregnant, raise the child as his own.
However, when the first symptoms of pregnancy appeared, his wife’s condition deteriorated significantly.
And it turned out he could no longer stand her suffering.
He could not imagine how she get even worse.
Personally, he had no problem raising someone else’s child. He knew he could do it. All his life he cared about someone and managed. And he wanted to keep the child and care for it.
But then he went into the room, where his wife was looking blankly out of the window.
And he made the first true decision in his life.
…
The 3D printer screwed up for the eighth time before it could finish (quite a big) part for our project. Now, instead of considering how we could improve our idea, we had to figure out how we would print the parts we needed and whether they could be printed as smaller pieces and assembled.
My colleague hit the desk with his hands and decided we have a break, cursing and kicking everything along the way. With a gesture of his hand, he motioned for me to sit next to him at the table while the machine made us coffee.
I waved my hand, explaining I will stand.
He told me not to be a freak and sit down.
“I’ll stand”, I repeated. “My vision is sitting in the chair next to you”.
This did not convince him.
“There’s no one there. Sit down”.
The young boy looked at me curiously, and I did not have the heart to sit down, as if no one was occupying that seat.
“For fuck’s sake, the hallucination took his seat”, he muttered to himself, probably not sure if he wanted me to hear him or not.
“Let’s finish the work for today”, I said in a firm tone.
“Why?”, he frowned excessively.
“Because you’re being rude, and I hope it’s just because you’re tired and frustrated. It’s not like we can do anything smart now. I’ll think about it, go for a walk, sleep with it and tomorrow we’ll continue brainstorming with the rest of the crew”.
I took my jacket and looked at his tired face again.
He did not oppose.
So I left the building, and the young boy followed me.
It was my son from an alternate present. From the present, in which I had not ended my relationship with Amanda, so that each one of us independently could seek the future they wanted. In which I agreed to start a family with her.
And for a short while, after I found out who the boy was, I regretted my life choices. Because of me, the boy did not exist – by how he found me at university without any problems, I concluded that he was most likely just a vision and that there was no alternative present in which my son and sister existed and enjoyed their life. However, I quickly realized how many children were never born. How impossible it was to save them all from non-existence and to fulfill all potential versions of the present.
I sat on a bench in the park near the college and invited the boy to join me.
“One question came to my mind that I hadn’t asked before…”.
The boy looked at me and waited.
“Why do you come to me instead of spending time with your father?”.
The boy shrugged his shoulders.
“Dad is never there even if he’s there”, he answered.
How well I could understand that…
