Parallels

Growing up amidst the art community, I learned from a young age that artwork is far more than what our most basic senses tell us. Like a peephole in a door, each representation provides a peek into the creator’s soul. Often we can feel the artist’s emotions. We share someone’s point of view and experiences. Art transports us to other destinations and times. As someone who typically looks for the most plausible explanations, I couldn’t have imagined an ordinary trip to the art museum could transport me in a way that would forever change my understanding of the logical world I once knew.

It’s a fifteen-minute walk to the Foggy Bottom Metro. The wind bites at my cheeks but the cool air is a welcome relief from the hours of reading, never-ending lectures, and everyday stressors that come with being a law student. Bare trees, gray sky, and icy air mark the bleakness that is DC in January yet the streets are always bustling with people.

Descending the escalator into the metro station, I find myself trailing behind an entire school group. Fortunately, there are no delays and I only have to wait seven minutes for my train. The harsh fluorescent lights assault my eyes as I board. Though there are empty seats, I opt to stand, leaving them for students, families, and those less accustomed to the jolts and bumps of the ride.

I approach the Smithsonian American Art Museum, its Greek pillars towering overhead. Once inside the stately building, my gaze is drawn to a captivating sculpture titled "Rouse" by Allison Saar. An antler-crested woman with a human bound to her horns stands atop a mound of antler sheds. I ponder what message the artist is trying to convey. Perhaps it's a commentary on poaching or a metaphor for the senseless destruction of our planet. The paler figure hints at themes of violence or exploitation, her blood drained and wasted.

As I move on, something I’ve never seen here catches my eye. I’m instantly drawn to a statue titled “Mysterious Egyptian Traveler”. A grotesquely thin man with reptilian facial features dates back to 2600 BC, having been unearthed near the pyramids and brought here around 1939. This could easily be displayed at the Natural History Museum. I realize that I’m touching the limestone figure, its texture is grainy like sand, yet solid as marble. My eyes dart around but nobody seems to have noticed my lapse in judgment. My ears ring and I feel slightly disoriented when I’m startled by a girl roughly my age who seems to instantly materialize beside me. With a cascade of mahogany curls framing her face, she looks directly at me and smiles.

“I was just reading about this.” She says “It was believed to have been found and brought over here in the 1940s. It was kept secret for years due to its rumored powers. I’m Sabrina,” she says extending her hand to me. “Sabrina O’Connell”.

The sign stating this information is directly in front of her but it doesn’t say anything about powers. “Matteo Herrera,” I say in response. “But everyone calls me Tay. And I think I read something similar somewhere," I add, gesturing playfully between her and the sign. 

"Sure, there too, obviously," she quips, “But didn't we cover this in one of our classes? Art history with Thompson or maybe world history with Rennick?"

“I don't recall seeing you in any of my History classes and I’ve never taken Art History.”

"Well I remember you,” she replies, with a flirtatious smile.

I've never seen this girl so she must have me confused with someone else but I let it slide, I shift my attention to her, and for the first time, really take in her features. She's stunning. Her wide smile is a radiant white against her flawless complexion. Her lips are full and luscious but she’s not covered in makeup and there's certainly no need for it in her case. 

When our eyes meet, I'm captivated by the swirling blend of grey and green reminiscent of the ocean before a storm. I startle, lost in thought, realizing that she's still talking to me.

"Hey, you alright?" she asks, her concern evident in the furrow of her brow. "How about we grab a bite at the Courtyard Cafe? You seem like you could use a sugar boost in your system."

"Sure, I was actually planning on hitting up the Courtyard to study," I reply, “But now that you mention it, I haven't had anything today except coffee. Maybe a snack wouldn't hurt."

Heading toward the cafe a strange sight catches my eye: the blue leather seats in the portrait gallery. I could have sworn they were green when I arrived and for as long as I can remember. I consider that the fluorescent lighting may be playing tricks on me, however, I decide to get a second opinion and turn to Sabrina for confirmation.

They're definitely blue, always have been," She asserts with a confident nod.

"I swear they were green. Are you messing with me, or am I losing my mind?" I question, feeling a twinge of unease creeping in.

"You're probably losing it," she replies with a playful chortle. 

The Kogod Courtyard Cafe is my sanctuary here. It’s expansive glass ceiling allows natural light in, creating the illusion of being outdoors while providing shelter from the elements. The free Wi-Fi makes it my go-to spot for studying, especially when I crave a change of scenery from the library. As we settle into our seats, I know I should be studying Yet, I can’t justify sitting with her in silence.

"So, besides frequenting museums, what else fills your spare time?" I inquired, eager to learn more.

"Mostly sex, drugs, and debauchery," she quips, a playful glint in her eyes. "But also painting, and volunteering at the animal shelter."

"Ha! Gotta balance out all that debauchery with community service, right? Are you an art major?” I ask.

“I wish. If you ask my parents, that's a waste of time and money. They wouldn’t pay for my education unless I chose something sensible. I was lucky they agreed to communications. How about you?”

“Pre-law, but honestly, you’re lucky. Aside from scholarships, I'm not getting any help.”

“Funny, that's what they wanted me to do. They're both lawyers, but they’re just so dull and unhappy and also the most fantastically prudish people you'll ever meet.”

“Yikes, tell me how you really feel?” I say, unsure of how to respond.

"You should've seen their reaction when I told them I was getting paid to model for a drawing class," she shares, a wry chuckle escaping her lips. "You'd have thought I told them I was prostituting myself for heroin or something."

"My parents were killed in a car accident when I was little. I barely remember them. I was raised by my Abuela in New Jersey. She's amazing. My love for art comes from her. As a kid, she took me to museums and her art shows. She loved it, but she gave it up to raise me."

"Jesus, I'm sorry. You must think I'm a real shit complaining about my family," she responds.

"No, I don't. I think every family has their struggles. We all get frustrated. It’s just being human.” I add, trying to offer some comfort. Our conversation flows effortlessly. We delve into every topic imaginable: from our friends and the quirks of our classes to our favorite books. We swap tales of our most cringe-worthy moments and deepest secrets. Laughter punctuates the air as we recount the silliest things we've ever done under the influence and reminisce about our funniest memories. Yet, amid the lighthearted banter, we also discuss our dreams and plans for the future. No topic is off-limits. I find myself feeling a genuine connection forming between us.

I’ve been so stressed out, it's been hard for me to even smile these past few months but all of a sudden, I’m laughing. Before we know it, two hours have gone by and they're closing the cafe. 

Neither of us seems ready to part ways, so we take a few more laps around the museum. Eventually, we arrive back at the sculpture where our conversation first began. I hear another high-pitched tone and wonder if there's an issue with the electricity in this area, causing this unnerving frequency. 

As we move from one side of the exhibit to the other, I notice another anomaly. The sound of our footsteps changes. Our shoes tap against what was once carpeted flooring. I consider mentioning it to her but quickly dismiss the idea, not wanting to sound crazy.

Things get stranger when I notice that Sabrina who has been sporting overalls all afternoon is suddenly wearing a long dress adorned with a moon phase pattern. My mind reels at the impossibility. Basic laws of physics dictate that she couldn't have swapped outfits without leaving my line of sight. I wonder if she has a twin and is trying to mess with me but then again, I saw nothing to support this theory. 

I contemplate that I’m either having a psychotic break or this girl is playing a game at my expense. Neither of these possibilities makes me want to stick around.

All I want now is to retreat to my dorm and study. It's a shame, as this afternoon marks the first time in months that I've genuinely enjoyed someone's company.

"I'm not feeling good. I think I'm gonna take off," I announce to her, my voice strained with discomfort.

Sabrina rises onto her toes, Her lips brush against my forehead in a tender gesture, like a mother checking her child for fever. I pull back, confused, and notice a ring on her finger, identical to the one my Abuela wears. It couldn't possibly be the same. Ours is a family heirloom passed down through generations.

The piercing sound that had been faintly nagging at my senses grows in intensity and I begin to feel disconnected from my body. My consciousness seemingly hovers, allowing me to see myself below. As the noise begins to fade out, I feel more in control of my body, but it’s a strange sensation, like returning somewhere after many years. I feel like I haven’t been in my own body for a long time. Through the ringing, I realize that someone is speaking to me.

“You don't feel warm.” Her soft voice says. “but you're white as a sheet. Let’s go home and get you into bed.”

“Are you my mom?” I ask, disoriented.

“Your mom? Baby, I think you're delirious. Let’s go home.” She says with a tone of genuine concern in her voice. Thrusting my arm over her shoulder, we head toward the exit.

Outside, my mind is clearer but nothing else makes sense. It's hot, everything is green. I'm wearing a T-shirt and shorts but I remember wearing a sweater and long pants. We’re headed in the opposite direction of the subway and suddenly, she’s leading me into the parking garage. “Wait, where are we going?” I ask defiantly pulling away from her.

“Shh, it's okay. Look the car is right here.” She says in a soothing tone but everything just keeps getting weirder. I don't understand why she's speaking to me in this manner. I’m certain I took the train here and yet this is my car.

“Why is my car here?”

“Tay, you drove us here but I'm going to drive home, okay? You seriously don’t remember?”

“No. I remember taking the subway. I remember meeting you, the cafe, and then nothing else.”

“Sweetie, I think we should get you to the hospital. You might have had a stroke or something. Please give me your keys.” She begs.

I check my pockets and sure enough, they’re in there.

“You can drive but I don't want to go to the hospital. I just need to go back to my dorm and sleep. Please take me back to Harbin.

“You haven’t been in Harbin for a year now. You were living off campus.” She explains. “Then last month we moved into place. We needed something more suitable for when the baby comes and if you really can’t remember any of this, I think the hospital is best.” 

“What baby?” I question almost shouting. She starts to cry and I feel like an asshole but it’s like I’m stuck in a nightmare.

“Please take me home. I didn't have a stroke. I’m not slurring, am I? Does any part of my face appear to be drooping or paralyzed in any way?” I ask her.

“No.” She says.

“I think it’s a mental breakdown. I promise you I’ll call my psychologist tomorrow morning and if he thinks I should go to the ER, then I will. Can you please just take me home?”

“Yeah, okay.” She answers sounding utterly defeated. 

We pull up to a townhouse. I live behind one of the four doors and I have no idea which one. We might as well be entering the twilight zone.

Sabrina holds my keys in her hand as we approach the second door and I’ll be damned, there’s a key on my ring that opens the door.

My first thought as we walk in is that the air smells clean and citrusy. It smells like her. The furniture is sleek and modern but unfamiliar. I see our faces in the photos she has displayed. There's one of her and Abuela. We all look really happy and as bizarre as this situation is, that makes me smile.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down? I’ll bring you some tea.” 

I enter a bedroom and open the drawers one at a time until I find something of mine. The third drawer down is full of my T-shirts. How strange that these are my belongings, yet I feel like I’m snooping through her things. I stand awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of which side of the bed is mine.

Sabrina walks in with a steaming cup and I can smell that it's Lemon Zinger, my favorite tea. 

“You're supposed to be resting up here.” 

“Which is my side?”

She sets the cup on the bedside table opposite where I'm standing. I follow and sit down. “Sweetie, take whatever side of the bed you like. I’m fine either way.” She assures. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to lie but I don’t want to scare you either. My clothes are here, happy pictures of us, and I can tell that you care for me. I want to remember but between the day we first spoke and now, it’s just blank. I’m freaking out. And school? If I’ve lost a year of memories, what am I gonna do?”

“We’ll figure it out.” She says, taking my hand in hers and lightly running her thumb back and forth between my thumb and forefinger, sending chills up my arms and tingling throughout my entire body. I could ravage her right now but somehow that feels wrong. I attempt to focus on something else and my thoughts keep fixating on that sculpture. Everything weird that happened was after I touched it.

“What were you saying about that old sculpture having powers?” I ask. 

“I remember reading that in one of our classes but it was a myth or legend.” She answers. “Why?”

“Right before we met, I felt drawn to that statue and felt like some outside force possessed me to touch it. What if that transported me to the future or something? I don’t know how else to describe what I experienced.”

“You think you traveled through time?” She asks incredulously.

“Maybe not time travel. Details that time itself wouldn’t necessarily alter appeared to change after I touched it. Like the benches, that happened right after we met. Do you believe in parallel universes?”

“I don’t know.”

“I know it’s crazy. I’m normally logical to a fault, yet I can’t help feeling like I was jolted out of my reality and into another.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy, but I was right next to you and shared none of those experiences. I’m worried it’s a brain issue. Call a doctor! I won’t leave your side if that’s what you’re worried about. If you have to take a break from school, so be it. But my God, Tay, you could have a brain mass. This isn’t something that can wait. We have a child to think about now.” 

Sabrina is crying and I know she’s scared. Not wanting to upset her, I agree to call in the morning. She’s lying on my shoulder. I run my fingers through her curls and kiss the top of her head, trying to soothe her. She turns around to face me and inches closer. I audibly gasp as she begins kissing my neck, jawline, and mouth, threatening to push me over the edge. Summoning my self-control seems impossible but I manage to pull away. “Is this okay?” I whisper. “Well, I’m already knocked up. How much more damage can you do?” she asks, laughing now as our teeth collide. She feverishly slides my sweatpants off as I position myself over her. After removing her shirt, I notice a subtle bump, the life growing within her. I gently hold my hands on her stomach, hoping to feel something.

“He hasn’t started kicking yet.” She says.

“He?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

“Or she.” 

“Mine?” 

“Of course.” She answers. “I hate that you can’t remember any of this.”

“God, I wish I could, you have no idea,” I confess. 

I kiss her belly and linger there for a moment, taking her in. My lips make their way back to hers. She pulls me in and everything feels so right, so perfect. I don’t know how I ended up here but I know there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.