Parallel World of Fate

An unexpected refusal whipped across my face and bore itself deep into my heart. “No! I can’t do this anymore?” She continued her rant. “You’re washed up, Cameron. A struggling artist is all you’ll ever be. We’re over!” She separated the crowd like the parting of the Red Sea. Onlookers gawked as her diminutive form vanished altogether, engulfed into a faceless mob.

   My clammy fingers combed through unkempt hair, then rubbed stubble antagonizing my jawline with its persistence. A copper taste permeated my mouth while a hiss of profanities floated on the air. Well, that didn’t go as planned, I thought bitterly. To avoid the plethora of stares, I shrunk into the crowd of loud whispers and disappeared down an adjacent street.

   Unable to rid myself from the scene gone awry, a veil of denial overtook my thoughts, so I turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of her returning, apologizing for the hideous scene. Nothing. Like a foolish schoolboy, I scrutinized the cautious words that were prepared for months, shaking my head in confusion. “Women!” I huffed, suddenly mesmerized by a hairline crack on the sidewalk. Never had Amanda reacted this way. Even Huck appeared confused, his body shaking profusely. He turned to me as if asking what had happened?

   A soft, rather prodigious, marshmallow nose rubbed my pants. “I know, Huck. Well, honestly, I don’t. I don’t know what set her off.” His sleek black form glistened in the suns descending rays. Cumulus clouds piled atop one another, reflecting in his wise eyes that pierced into a place I tried to hide, but he seemed to always find. As if to confirm my thoughts that he understood better than me, his muzzle found my sweaty palm. Bending down to stare into soulful pools of unconditional love, I scratched under his chin.

   Without breaking his gaze, I conversed with him as if he a person. “It’s everything we had gone through—talked about—but she . . . ” Shaking my head, moisture clouded my vision, blurring reality into a sea of longing. “Geez, I’m getting too old for this. I mean, she was the one, the ONE, and if she’s telling me no, I’m never going find someone to settle down with.” 

   A mournful whine escaped Huck, his full name Huckleberry. I’d often walk from my apartment to work, yet something coerced me a different way that day—maybe fate—I’m still not sure. It was a street where the art center resided, and one I tried to avoid. I’d pass by the sign but never followed it to its destination. Hearing about it, I often dreamt of becoming famous one day, but that’s as far as I got. Maybe Amanda was right. Regardless, Huck collided into me and had since become my confidant.

   A barista at the local coffee shop watched as we meandered past, her grin turning into disappointment. My hand waved automatically. Two of her loyal customers—Huck was often rewarded a cup of frothy whipping cream, and I—a Huckleberry latte, hence Huck’s name. 

   “Yeah, not today, Huck. I’ll take my battered body home, and you can help me mope. How’s that sound?” I said. Embarrassed at myself, feeling as if the entire world heard of my unfortunate plight, we slunk home quickly.

Two long years dragged by, adding themselves amongst a slurry of memories, good and bad. That horrid day still haunted me, albeit dimming over the years into the fog of my mind. What was once an open wound became a scar that had hardened into an unrecognizable loathsome being.

   Having investments in the stock market, I poured every ounce of my despicable self into a career as an investor, something I had dreamt about my entire life. Money—money—money. Yeah, I was good at it, had a coldness that worked to my advantage. Callously, I’d watch as people around me lost their investments, while mine piled high. To say I was rolling in sheer bliss would be an understatement. Of course, that included anyone I wanted as well. Except for Amanda. If she could see me now, I thought. Maybe she’d change her mind. Life couldn’t be better. That was what I’d tell Huck when I’d make it home eventually. 

The fire in Huck’s eyes had dimmed over the years. He was older, after all. While I considered myself good at investing, I had forgotten to invest time in what had once been so important to me.

   It couldn’t be happenstance that at that particular moment, a brief flutter of what once was penetrated me like a knife—bore through skin, tendon, nerve, and bone. It jarred me from a life I convinced myself that I wanted and realized too late it wasn’t what I wanted at all, then imminent death fell upon my feet. 

   Stunned, I stared unblinkingly at his body sprawled on the landing, the entrance where he’d watch me pass each day, my loyal companion, and I, his disappointing master. He had waited to say goodbye to the person he once knew and never gave up on.

   “Huck? Huck?” The last glimmer in his eyes bore into me. The fading light so apparent, but I chose to blame it on age. “I’m so sorry, Huck. I’m so sorry.” 

A year passed, hitting me in waves, lulling back and forth—sometimes slowly—sometimes with such force, my body would jolt unconsciously. Just as it chose to do at this moment and happened at the most inopportune time. As I drew back my arm, something brushed my fingertips. A violent storm of anguish engulfed my body. Am I losing my mind? Was that Huck? I asked myself, already knowing the answer.

   Enveloping myself in regrets and wanting the unattainable, my hands clasped together. To further convince myself of sheer and pure insanity, black fur protruded from a fingernail. Blaming it on lingering grief—to the weather, perhaps—that was until I saw the minute trace of proof. My disbelieving eyes darted in each direction hoping to find him, still transfixed at the evidence captured. So small, yet so priceless. I held onto the single piece of his hair, afraid it would disappear—to become an apparition from an already desperate mind. I plucked it ever so carefully, nestling it into my wallet. 

   I hadn’t noticed my body landed itself in a busy street, across from the very spot where Amanda and I . . .

   Suddenly, horns blared in anger, my confused body unsure what landed me—stupidly—in the middle of a busy street. Why had I not heard the horns in the first place? I asked myself. What once had been silent became increasingly loud. As a confused animal would panic, I did as well, but too late.  

   A blinding bolt of light hit with such force, catapulting me into the air. For a moment, I felt suspended between gravity and space. A plethora of shadows encircled me in warm comfort. Any noise had grown eerily silent. The light growing brighter, and brighter, until . . .

A whimsical voice sung to me, in the distance, at first. Then louder. Closer. “Mr. Blake? Mr. Blake? Can you hear me?”

   Slowly, my heavy eyelids fluttered open, unable to focus on any detail. Or who was talking to me? Cool hands brushed against my arm. Automatically, my body recoiled, straining to focus on whomever she was.

   Sandalwood entered my thoughts. Her form moved closer, her words, as hazy as my vision.

   “Mr. Blake? If you can hear me, you’re at the hospital, Sumner, on the second floor, very near from where you had an accident.”

   “An accident?” an unfamiliar voice croaked.

   “Yes. From what I understand, you somehow ended up standing in the middle of the street. The traffic . . . You’re very fortunate, Mr. Blake, you only suffer from a broken arm, some scrapes, and a small concussion. It could’ve been much worse. Do you know why—?”

   An unrecognizable voice interrupted, “No, I can’t remember anything. My throat . . .” My arm tried to move but stopped from restrictions I was unaware of. Confused, I said, “Wait. I don’t know of any hospital located in this area. It’s Sumner, the Arts Center. How . . .?”

   Her eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sorry, your arm—it must be difficult for you to wake up and find yourself in different surroundings, I know you’re going to have a lot of questions. All in due time. This is a hospital, Mr. Blake. I’ve never heard of the Sumner Art Center. I’m sorry, maybe it’s the medication . . . Or the slight concussion.”

   “You’re on a cocktail of medications at the moment. I just want to make sure you are comfortable. Do you have any allergies that you’re aware of?”

   “No. No, I don’t.” 

   “Well, if you need anything, I’m Nurse Elisa.”

   Then what had become clearer faded again. Forgotten aromas layered themselves into memories tucked away. I floated amidst an alternate reality until even the most mundane idea became hard to manage and fell into a drugged sleep of what once had been regrets, achievements, longings, while whimsical notes fell upon the air encompassing this new world. 

   “Mr. Blake? Are you alright?” Elisa asked. Her benevolence, a welcomed change to my dreary lifestyle. 

   “Yeah, yeah. I’m alright.” I said. Suddenly, between the pleasant scent that became intoxicating, along with her good nature, I became more alert, yet I couldn’t hide my despondency. Crazy crept into my mind. Yeah, I thought, I’m falling for a nurse I know nothing about. 

   “Sorry, I’m just trying to figure out what happened. Why I’d even put myself in . . .” Then I knew. A river of panic rushed over me—through me—at the revelation. My wallet! I thought. My throbbing head reveled at the possibility. Frantic, clearer eyes searched in desperation. 

   “My pants!” I blurted.

   “Your clothes are put away in the drawer. Don’t worry, they’re safe.” A glint of humor hidden behind her reply. “Please, stay in your bed. I’ll find them for you.”

   Embarrassed, I avoided her teasing eyes. “Sorry, there is something very important in a pocket of my j-jeans.” I stammered. “It-it’s in my wallet. I think it was the reason for what happened.”

   “I’ll bring them to you,” she said candidly. “Here they are.”

   Bloodied and torn, I cringed at the sight of them. My uninjured arm shot out in a desperate attempt to prove my story not crazy. My wallet slipped out from the pocket, opening like an accordion, exposing what little was in it, along with Huck’s photo that drifted to the floor. The hair I hid away was nowhere to be found.

   “I’m so sorry, Mr. Blake . . .” Her response cut short as the doctor walked in. 

   “Oh, Doctor Florence.” The doctor scooped up the photo and handed it to me before I could respond to Elisa.

   “He’s doing better; vitals within normal limits, his memory improving.” With that, she left with a curt nod.

   “Hmmm . . . Well, let’s see what you’ve remembered. Mr. Blake, correct?” The coldness froze any answer that I wanted to say, so I just stared, unsure of the hostility floating on the once mesmerizing air.

   “Uhhh.”

   Her right hand pushed glasses down her nose to get a better view. Her eyebrows rose like drum sticks ready to pound me if I chose the wrong answer.

   Uncomfortable, my mouth froze half open. “Uhhh,” I stammered, once again. “Did I do something wrong?”

   As I lay there, my body shrunk under the crisp sheets. “I’m sorry. Have we met before? I’m not remembering as much as I’d like to.”

   “Forgive me,” she retorted, straightening her slouching form. “Not very professional of me. Please, tell me what you remember.” Her eyes deviated to the hand holding the photo.

   Somehow, albeit hesitantly at first; the more I talked, the circumstance of how I found myself at the hospital became clearer.

   “A dog’s hair?”

   “Yes, it should’ve be in my wallet, but . . .”

   Her demeanor softened. “So, you haven’t told me why this was so important to you.”

   “Well,” I said, clearing my throat, as if I were on trial, submitting my best defense to the court. “His name was Huck. He understood me so well, and I neglected him. No money will ever replace him.” My eyes, unable to hide the emotion that enraptured me to the core. Shaky fingers held the last photo I took of him. “I found him digging through the trash eight years ago. Funny thing was he didn’t like anyone but me. Well, until I met her—Amanda. Amanda was different. We both fell for her.” In recollection, a grin escaped briefly before my mouth drew tight at the memory of Amanda’s refusal. “Yeah, a dog, I know, but I didn’t have anyone else. I planned on . . .” 

   My body convulsed. “I had planned on marrying her, and she left us standing there. So, I submerged myself into a career, leaving him alone a lot”. Feeling I was baring my soul to a psychiatrist instead of a doctor, I continued. “Memories of her tore through me anytime I looked at him.”

   Feeling ashamed, I stared at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

   “No, please continue.” 

   “Well, only too late did I realize what a fool I had been. Neglecting him wouldn’t bring her back. He had nothing to do with her, I was the problem.” My swollen eyes connected with hers, which appeared red-rimmed, as well. 

   “I’m so sorry for my demeanor, Mr. Blake, I mean Cameron. You’re story is very believable. Let me tell you why.” She positioned herself on the bed, more like a friend. “Cameron, you see. I believe everything you’ve told me.”

   In a nervous gesture, she squeezed her neck. “Yes—” she reiterated. “The circumstances—everything you’ve said. I lost something very dear to me, such a long time ago. I thought money and fame were more important at the time. For years my heart ached with unknowing what had happened.” She stopped to gather herself. “You lifted the coldness that has surrounded me for so long. I’m so sorry Amanda didn’t see what a good person you were. You are. She didn’t deserve you. But Huck did. He was such an angel. 

   Her words became shaky. “I abandoned him, you see, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. Only too late did I realize the error of my ways, so I plunged myself into a career, but even success didn’t fill the void.”

   She adjusted her glasses that had slid further down the bridge of her nose. “You have brought finality in a search that lasted for years; the unknowing of my dog, Beacon, who left me and found you. Fate, somehow, has a way of making things work out. Almost like missing pieces from a puzzle finally found after a lengthy search. Maybe he knew I transferred to this location. We’ll never know for sure. But, if the events didn’t happen the way they did, none of this could have been possible. I felt so guilty for what I did—for what I had become—cold and heartless. Money won’t fix it. But love—true love—will.”   

   At this point, we both cried like children who lost what had become most precious.

   “Don’t become like me, Cameron. Find love. Hold on to it. Don’t let go. Money is wonderful, I’m not going to lie—but love, friendship—is far greater. Whether you find another Amanda, or another Huck, don’t forget what brought you here—a dog hair, no less, and that is a true love that you were lucky to have. Don’t ever forget that feeling.”

Turning toward the hall, I pressed the elevator button, illuminating my eminent freedom. A redolence of flowers and sandalwood tormented the air. 

   “Hey!” a familiar voice yelled from behind. Still whimsical, but with force. “You gonna let me sign your cast?” Elisa asked playfully.

   Uncertain as to what led me to believe an art center existed in place of the hospital, I investigated the history of the town and discovered the art center had burned down; in its stead, the hospital was resurrected. The art center’s sign remained and had been deemed a historical site, donated by none other than Alex Sumner, who also donated a hefty sum to construct the hospital. How had I seen the center and not the hospital? Only my delusional mind could guess. 

   In the midst of recovering from the accident, painful thoughts were replaced with new beginnings. Who really knew what the mind could conjure during stresses in one’s life? Perhaps a parallel world existed, and I stepped into it? 

   After a year, Elisa and I moved to the country. With Elisa’s urging and support, I decided to revisit a passion I had as a teenager and opened an art center of my own. Funny how things have a way of working out. 

   Yeah—you could say that Huck led me there, although my body wished it wouldn’t have been so painful. I’ll never know if it was to meet the doctor? Maybe. Or maybe to meet Elisa? Maybe both. Whatever it may have been—Huck would be in my thoughts and heart forever. 

Oh, by the way, Huck, I have another date with Elisa on Tuesday. I know you’ll like her, and you’ll never guess? I’m going to propose. Thanks for leading me to her, ol’ boy.