Elohi

Stranded In Parallel [Chapter 17]

I barely said anything to Mom even up through Dinner.

“I can stay home tomorrow, too,” she uttered out of nowhere.

“For what?” I said back slowly.

“For… I don’t know what?” She seemed to ask. Her question was more for her than for me. “And it’s not like the bills are going anywhere, either. Hey, if you’re not feeling 100% better before Friday, hopefully the treatment will get you a little bit of a boost.”

I looked down at my food, barely picked at. I scooped up another sizeable bite just for appearances and swallowed it down the best I could. “Sure,” I responded, knowing that it was unlikely.

“I’ll be off on Tuesday too,” said Mom, still lost in her own worries. “Though it wouldn’t hurt to make up for lost hours.”

Her eyes shot over to me, looking at my plate before smiling my way. “Not that we’re going to end up broke, so don’t you worry about that. Done eating?”

I looked at the half-eaten pile of rice and stir-fry on my plate. I nodded. It didn’t matter what question I was responding to. The only thing on my mind was Ohanzee’s plea for help. I had to meet him… somehow, somewhere, for a reason I barely understood. And if I didn’t… I might never hear from him again.

As Mom grabbed up my plate, I clenched my hand, hiding the barely faded markings.

“The sheets are probably done in the wash,” Mom said back. “I’ll go up and make your bed if you want to head up and rest soon.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, sitting back in the dining room chair. I wanted to pull on my hair and run my head into the edge of the table. I felt as if everything were pulling away at that moment, with me unable to do anything. As I stood weakly, I noticed something by the phone tucked into the end of the kitchen, a big book of knowledge.

As Mom finished tidying, I went to the fridge and peered inside, stalling for time.

“You’re not still hungry, are you?” Mom huffed.

“Just looking for something sweet,” I said back.

“Sugar isn’t good for you when you’re sick,” she scolded. “Go lie back down. We can maybe pop some plain popcorn later.”

I watched out of the corner of my eye as she finally departed. I dashed to the phone book, grabbing up the first chunk of pages in search of anything I could use. Just a few pages in, I spotted what I needed: a map.

“The Red River…” I mumbled to myself, eying the fine drawings on the thin yellow pages. “East…”

---

I barely slept, but that didn’t stop me from perking up the very moment Mom announced her departure that morning. As soon as I heard the door click downstairs, I was up out of bed. My body still ached, but it didn’t stop me from going about the tasks I had thought up in a half-asleep state.

I first went across the hall, pulling off my baggy pajama shirt in the process. With the page of runes open on the edge of the sink and marker in my hand, I began to copy the curing designs down across my chest, up from my underarms where I had left off the day before.

I turned myself back and forth there in the bathroom, making sure everything looked alright before capping the pen and folding the notebook back closed. Back in my room, I pulled on some fresh clothes, packed the notebook into the backpack, and slung it over one shoulder.

I had packed it the night before. The only stop I needed to make was in the kitchen for my final preparations. First was food from the fridge, which I shoved into my mouth unceremoniously. I wasn’t hungry, but I knew I needed fuel for my body. The leftovers immediately sank into my stomach. I didn’t even wait for the last bite to settle before I grabbed up one final necessity from the drawer, wrapping it in a kitchen towel tightly for protection.

I went out the door with my hood up and a mask over my face. It was the first time I had interacted with the door since we had arrived, using the key that I had been given, only for an emergency. This, surely, was one of those cases. If Mom came back before I returned… well, I wasn’t thinking of that.

The wind was blowing, and it almost felt cold compared to the still air inside. The orange morning light was glaring over the roofs across the street, casting fiery streaks onto the row of apartment buildings. My feet took me out of the apartment complex and onto the sidewalk with more courage than the rest of my body could manage at that moment.

I knew that there were no signs of any river in the direction of the hospital and the clinic, so they were probably to the west. If I just traveled the opposite direction, I figured, I would end up across it.

I clung to the straps of my backpack as it bounced around and my feet skipped along on the cracked and weed-infested sidewalks. My breath reflected back into my face from behind the mask, and I could feel my body start to sweat underneath my hoodie. My eyes darted about, glancing at every passing car. I nearly panicked as I saw someone moving up the sidewalk towards me, a dog pulling them along.

I considered dashing across the street, but the thought of tripping and falling and ending up under a car’s wheels deterred me. Instead, an idea popped into my head.

“Hiexcuseme,” I said with a huff. I made eye contact with the person, an old man in a flannel. His little fluffy dog sniffed at the hem of my jeans.

“Can I help you?” He said with a raspy tone, looking me up and down and tugging his dog away. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… going to the river,” I paused, hoping that was enough to make him understand. “Uh, which way?”

The man pulled his head back and started off across the street. “’ Bout two blocks that way,” he directed with a pointed finger. “What’s at the river?”

“A friend,” I mumbled, stepping down into the gutter to get around him. I sucked in a breath to get one last word out to him. “Thank you.”

I barely looked back. After a long stretch of houses, I found a crosswalk leading into another stretch of neighborhood. A patch of trees and wild-looking grasses laid far in the distance at the end of the block. I could feel my energy fading and my legs going all wobbly, but I knew I couldn’t stop.

When I caught sight of the brownish flowing water down past the final road, I almost felt my energy return. But I was yet to arrive at the vertex that Ohanzee had described. I looked both ways before deciding to go up the river, following the wild thicket separating the city streets and the natural state of the river.

I finally found myself at a bridge, a road for crossing from one side to the other. During a break in traffic, I dashed across the road, spending more of my meager energy. Just on the other side of the river was a wide, green park, where the river seemed to split in two. My heart jumped up into my chest.

The whole surface of the bridge shook under my feet as the morning traffic traversed the concrete and asphalt. There was barely enough room for my feet between the white line and the concrete guard rail. Despite the drivers trying their best to avoid me, I could still feel the ripping wind and deafening rumble of them passing by. My stomach began to ache as I marched the last few yards of the bridge. Just as my feet found the edge of the concrete, I was forced to pull down my mask as my stomach emptied itself down the dirt embankment.

Once I caught my breath and blinked the tears from my eyes, I forced myself back up, wiping my eyes and nose on the sleeve of my hoodie. I glanced back at the road to make sure nobody had decided to take pity on me and stop to help. My legs were shaking more than before then, but I knew I was almost at the destination.

Down past a row of hedges blocking off the stretch roadway, I found myself in the sanctuary of the park. There seemed to be nothing special about it, but I knew better. The point where the river split into two was a vertex, where Elohi was concentrated. And somewhere in a different world, Ohanzee was waiting for me.

A grassy peninsula sat between the diverging flows of the river. I pulled the hood and mask off as I settled down there on the grass. The warm breeze danced across my skin as I fished around in my backpack for the notebook and the fresh pencil.

I flipped through all the old writing, the notes taken before our first contact, our exchanges back and forth, the parallel lines, the map of the land, the inscriptions and body markings. A set of fresh, dark writing was present on the furthest page.

I’ve escaped. It wasn’t easy. I’m sorry if my writing is sloppy. A sliver of charcoal is no match for a fine quill and ink. When you’re here, please tell me. I shall keep this page open while I listen to the babbling of the river.

I propped the notebook as best as I could on one knee for stability and began writing. “I’m here. I’m exhausted. But this place is beautiful. I wonder if it looks the same on your side. I can almost feel the Elohi.”

I’m glad that you could find your way here. The response came soon after my pen stopped. I hope I didn’t make you worry too much. At the same time… I’m also worried. About you. Elohi is not the power you might think it is.

“You said Elohi brought us together.”

Ohanzee took no time in writing back. So I did. Elohi is always at work. But despite our understanding of it, it is not the only truth we follow. It is not the sole power to solve our problems. I’m worried you might think of it that way.

I read his words, then again, shaking my head. “But your people use it,” I wrote down in rough letters. “You told me about your healers. You thought you could heal me.”

I thought a lot of things.

Nobody can ‘use’ Elohi. At least not in a concentrated form. Such a thing isn’t even attainable. Nor tangible. Elohi acts on its own accord. We can make ourselves available to it, or open ways forward for it. But it is like the flowing of water. It will always find its own way. Just as you might see before you in the flow of the converging rivers here. The actions carried out by a healer could be compared to damming up a flow or cutting irrigation ditches for a field. And as much forethought as we put in, we are still at the mercy of things like floods and droughts.

I grabbed at the edges of the notebook and shook it, tightening my grip on the pencil in the process. My hand was shaking as I pressed the notebook back into my lap and grabbed at my backpack, slipping out the wrapped object. I slid off the wound kitchen towel from the blade and squinted into its reflection of the sun above. I passed it to my left hand and prepared to write again.

“The tattoos. I’ve copied the markings to my body with ink. All I should need to do now is pierce the skin along those lines, right? Those will… expose my Elohi, let it flow. Right? What happens then?”

I’m sorry for putting that idea in your head. I’ve put in more thought about your situation. You may end up doing more harm than good.

“What else is there?” I muttered aloud. “I’ll show you…”

Slamming down the notebook, I clenched my teeth and slipped the smooth wooden handle of the knife into my right hand before pressing the tip into the opposite palm, right where I had drawn the imagery before leaving my house. With a jab, it pierced my skin. From that first incision, the blade seemed to move more easily. I continued dragging it forward, following the gentle curve that looped around in a spiral before trailing up my arm. The fingers in my hands twitched and I couldn’t help but bite my lip. I began to lose sight of the markings beneath the flow of blood, followed by my whole body going limp, just for a moment. When the world returned, I saw a rough imprint of my palm against the page, colored in a deep crimson.

Stop!

I clenched my bloody hand, allowing my breathing to slow. I held my fist to my chest as I attempted to write more. “Do you see that?” I scribbled, hand shaking, a smile creeping across my face. “The color? The… pain is temporary. I can do it. And if I can’t… There is no good in this place, this world. Nothing in my world has allowed me to come close to feeling or being perceived as normal. As healthy. As belonging. You said Elohi brought us together. If that’s the case, why would it not be the answer to—“

Stop, Ohanzee wrote thick, hasty letters to cut off my next word. The last thing you should say is that you do not belong. We spoke of the divergence of worlds. Remember… the you right now, talking to me, is a result of countless decisions in the past. By yourself and others. It is completely false to say that you don’t belong. And right now, the way forward is only in your hands. Please, do not hurt yourself any further.

I blinked at the knife, sitting in my lap upon the unwound towel. I blinked at my palm, the trickles of blood finding their way deep through the creases in my skin. I blinked at the page, the blood drying and turning brown there on the paper.

I gritted my teeth before writing more. “Shouldn’t there be a world where I can be a normal, healthy person? If the decisions that lead me there are through pain and shedding my own blood, I see no choice but to make them.”

Normal is a word that has no single definition. Do you remember how I described Elohi as being present in all things natural? And that Elohi is called by different names in different parts of the world? In my world?

“What does it matter what it is called?”

Different people understand the movements and composition of nature in different ways. I looked that up too, the ways that the people across the sea in our world view that power. Science is what they call it. Medicine, the word you used. They are all the same.

“You don’t know that,” I wrote, my hand shaking.

You’re correct. I know we’re both pretending to know more than we actually do of our own worlds. Pretending to know that we’ve come to understand each other’s worlds would be the next step. It’s already started to happen. But this sort of knowledge was never meant to cross from one world to another. Worlds are supposed to be isolated. Parallel. Never meeting.

There must be a lot to know about your world that you haven’t learned yet. But be certain of this: there was no mistake in your being born into it. Even if you were born into it as imperfect. The world… every world is imperfect. The world that you inhabit has the mechanisms for holding onto and protecting those who are a product of it. Not any other world.

I could feel my stomach sink. It was impossible to tell if I was going to throw up again or if it was the words hitting me. My hand started to sting as the cuts began to slow their bleeding and meet with the air. I balanced the notebook carefully on one knee. I grabbed up the kitchen towel and wrapped it around the back of my hand, then brought it around the front, looping and fastening the two ends between my right hand and my teeth. By the time my hand was secured, tears were filling my eyes and falling upon the half-written pages.

I wiped the soggy splotches of paper with my makeshift bandage before picking up the pencil to write again. “Then… why any of this? Between the two of us?”

I can’t pretend to know that. No theory. Only a thought.

I would tell you this thought of mine, but that would rob you of coming to a conclusion of your own.

I’m going to turn in this journal. To more knowledgeable, responsible people.

I blinked fast through the tears, clearing my eyes and making sure I read the words as they were written. “Wait, why?”

Elohi still holds many secrets. Secrets that could help people.

I think I’ve helped you as much as I can. Which is why I want you to destroy this notebook of yours. The papers are one thing, but them having access to you is… irresponsible.

“No. I can’t. Why? I… don’t want to lose you.”

I understand. I feel the same way. But you can’t lose what you never had in the first place. That is the intended nature of our two worlds.

The river. The river will wash away the ink, dissolve the papers, disjoin the binding. Give everything back to Elohi.

My hand trembled as I grasped onto the pen, ready to write but unsure of what words to add to the page. With the tears blurring my vision, I could barely make out anything of the words on the page. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, hoping to muster the strength and inspiration to say one final thing. From the corner of my eye, I could see a car pull off the main road and onto the grass.

“Stay where you are!” Someone called.