Nat's Stories

crossing over (pt 19)

2007-12-06T04:01:34Z

“I know how you feel. Trust me. I know. Just take those feelings out on these clocks. Don’t let time drive you. Deal with it.” He handed me a giant rubber mallet. “C’mon. I know you can do it.”

“Help me, please,” I pleaded. We each took a mallet and began the massacre. Imagine the gopher game you used to play. You’d think it was something like that, but it was nothing compared to reality. Hunter and I ran around chasing clocks, mashing them to the ground. The metals would bend first, then the glass shattered. Springs, screws, and plastic parts flew out of it. For the longest time, I felt exactly like that—like I was broken and a whole bunch of screws and springs were loose, bent, missing.

crossing over (pt 18)

2007-12-06T03:58:56Z

“It’s one of your greatest fears: time.” More ticking came, this time a clock appeared as well. Another popped up. And another. It would not stop. There were clocks everywhere, all ticking at different beats. I turned every which way to evade the attack of the clocks, as stupid as that sounds, but there would be another one there.

Voices came in the background. Was I hearing things? Probably. I heard laughter. Sobs. Yells. Whispers. All from conversations I’ve had before. Images of my past played in random order in front of me. “Hunter!” I called. The ticking. The voices. The images. My heart pounded hard. The sound of my heartbeat joined the chorus of noise. The tempo sped up. Then there was a steady but sure crescendo. “Hunter!” My hands flew up to my ears. My eyes were shut.

“Emma. You have to face it,” he yelled over the noise. “Emma! I’m here with you.”

“I can’t. Hunter, I can’t,” I sobbed. “Make it go away.” I could feel more clocks appearing, taking up the space we were in, suffocating me.

crossing over (pt 17)

2007-12-06T03:56:46Z

Other friendships began to feel that way too. My tolerance level dropped—I became less willing to put up with various shit and shenanigans. With that, I felt more alone. I felt less content. I was restless for the future—for the journey ahead and for a change.

—-—-
Time slipped past me like sand through my fingers. All the fun memories flew by in a matter of minutes. Hunter said he wasn’t the one controlling our journey. He only guided. He guided me through time—through sorrows and through joy. Memories of the past are blurred in my head. When they say, “Be careful what you wish for,” they should have emphasized it more. I was now twenty seven years old—ten years older from the time I longed for something different. The wish remained.

Suddenly, everything grew quiet. That is except for an obnoxiously loud ticking, whose source I could not figure out. “Hunter, what is that?”

crossing over (pt 16)

2007-12-06T03:55:40Z

It was junior year. I was standing by my friend Lyssa, reading something or other, in US history. Out of nowhere Jacob said to me, “Emma. How much do you wanna bet that if you chill a little, your life would be much easier?”

“Probably,” I replied, agreeing with him.

“I mean,” he went on. “You look like you’re about to cry all the time.”

“What?” The idea was absurd!

“You’re always worrying about something or someone.”
I remember that conversation. Of course, it didn’t help that Aidan and I had just stopped talking to each other. Two years of best friendship down the drain.

The fight started out as a joke. I don’t think either one of us thought it would end in silence. Complete silence. I suppose Jacob and Hunter were right. The argument built up on insecurity—Aidan’s and mine—from the past and that exact time. Dwelling had a lot to do with it too. We had changed, that summer before junior year. It wasn’t for the worst or for the better. We were just different—no longer on the same side.

Crossing over (pt 15)

2007-12-06T03:54:06Z

We were in Aidan’s bedroom, drowning in the teal walls. “Dude, c’mon. I don’t wanna mother you. You have to get your summer reading done,” I told him. “C’mon. Let’s read.” We lay down on his bed, his arms around me. Silence. “You done?”

“Yeah.” He flipped the page.

With the page, the scene in front of me changed. I began to grow frantic. I knew that those memories would never come back. Those moments were long gone and there wasn’t room in the future for more. At least, nothing compared.

Hunter sensed my body tensing up. I wasn’t about to cry. I had to be strong. There’s no point dwelling in the past, I had once said. But like most people, I never truly followed my own advice. I’ve never acknowledged the fact that I do dwell. Constantly. Hunter then said, “Look at you. You used to be so happy and carefree. But something happened, didn’t it? Something that changed you. You started to look stressed all the time. It’s like there’s always something you’re worrying about.” Where have I heard that before?

Crossing over (pt 14)

2007-12-06T03:48:41Z

I laughed to myself. “Ok. This is the day my back got way tanner than my front. Oh! And to make it so much better,” I chuckled, “I had a handprint on my side!” I turned to him, checking for his expression. He was not laughing. He didn’t even crack a smile. “What?” I could feel that the fun and games were about to be over. Several memories previous to this have all been cut short. Like God was ripping me away from my comfort zone. From the things I longed. I questioned the purpose of the journey.

I attempted at stealing another glance at the picture perfect moment, but as soon as I turned back around, it was gone. “Hunter!” I squeaked. There was nothing he could do, I knew.

It was now the middle of the summer before sophomore year. I was sitting on my bed, crying, with a phone in hand. “Aidan, stop! You and Kathryne can go out. I’m over you. I swear. God! Don’t use me as an excuse!” I winced. Each memory I visited became more and more depressing than the ones before, coming in and out in a speed of light.

Crossing over (pt 13)

2007-12-06T03:44:44Z

“Because someone’s going in the restroom,” the voice said.

“Oh for crying out loud, they can’t see us.” I caved in to his gentlemanly way. I exited the restroom, greeted by his smile.
“What are you smiling at?” I asked, not really wanting an answer. “What’s your name anyway?”

“You can call me Hunter.”

—-—
There we were—Kathryne, Aidan, and 15-year-old me—lying underneath the sun. A copy of The Wealth and Poverty of a Nation was left unread beside the pool. Sophomore me thought that some summer reading would be done while tanning at the pool. She thought wrong. The iron gate was clanging in the background of the loud splashing, laughter, and conversations. Hunter stood silently beside me as I admiringly watched every move of the trio. The three of them propped themselves against the side of the pool and one by one they came out of the water. A bottle of my strawberry smoothie was passed around and of course, as usual, Kathryne and Aidan were teasing me.

Crossing over (pt 12)

2007-12-06T03:43:10Z

“Where the hell did you go?” I yelled. Before I continued to yell at, as it appeared, myself, I saw the girls standing frozen from the corner of my eye. “What? Are they on pause now?”

“Pretty much.” The question was not a serious one. But the answer was. “Emma,” he said, “for a great listener, you seriously suck at listening.” I rolled my eyes at him, wherever he was. “You need to listen. You need to go through the changes that happened to you from a different point of view.” He paused again. “Think of it as an out of body experience.” I could imagine him sheepishly grinning; his voice gave him away. I didn’t respond. “Ok. Just listen.”

Then I heard me talking again. “It’s their loss. Don’t push it. The time will come.”

“Will you come back?” I begged, now that the conversation was over.

“I can’t,” I heard back.

“Why?” At that point, I felt like a broken record—a little kid—repeating the same question over and over again.

Crossing over (pt 11)

2007-12-06T03:42:00Z

“Because.” She did not continue but I was obviously not content with the answer. Silence filled the empty restroom until she went on. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Em. Chris has a girlfriend and they’re all over each other. Randy’s been going out with Lindy for ever. And Malcolm is always flirting with other girls. I can’t have any of the guys I like. What’s wrong with me?”
Little Emma began, “Laurie, don’t let guys ruin your night.” As if reading a script, I chimed in, “When it’s the right time, it’ll come. I promise. And as cheesy and stupid as it sounds… there are plenty of fish-ies in the sea.” That managed to draw a chuckle from her. “Seriously, if—
“God! Will you listen?” his voice boomed in out of nowhere.

Crossing over (pt 10)

2007-12-06T03:41:03Z

Without further help from my so called “guide,” I did exactly that. A few rows down the bleacher and to my left, one of the most popular boy in school Chris and his girlfriend sat, unable to keep off each other like excited puppies. Of course, remembering the course of the event correctly, I glanced over to Laurie to find her eyes glued on the couple. “And here we go,” I muttered as I watched my 14-year-old self run after her friend. They both whizzed past me and with a slow response time, I followed suit.
Oh boy, I thought. The restroom.
Laurie’s lips quivered. Tears trickled down her face. My younger self stood near her with a puzzled look on her face. “What’s wrong?”
“I wanna go home,” Laurie replied.
“What? Why?”

Crossing over (pt 9)

2007-12-06T03:39:09Z

We were at a basketball game at my high school. The home crowd was halfway decent but only a scattered few sat on the guest side. I saw my younger self sitting with a crowd around her, talking and laughing. A boy sitting in the row of bleacher behind me was busy tickling me, doing his thing: flirting with everything that moved. I had just met him that night through the girl next to me. She, one of my best friends at the time, sat there pouting. This was eighth grade. I remember.
I chuckled to myself. “Why are we here?” I asked. As soon as those words escaped my mouth, the frozen scene in front of me melted into play. I turned to my guide, my “knight in shining armor,” expecting an answer. But he had disappeared. My heart raced. What the hell was I doing there? Do I just stand there and let everything play out? Follow my eighth grade self around? What?

Crossing over (pt 8)

2007-12-06T03:37:50Z

“My nightmare,” I repeated. Was he nuts? “This isn’t already my nightmare? We’re only about to enter it?” I subconsciously would not shut up. Maybe my mind had hoped that if I kept talking, it would stall this whole ordeal. After all, a girl’s subconscious can only hope.
He never really answered me, rather, he assured me that everything will be alright because he was sent to help me and that’s what he intended on doing. Pushing the matter would not get me anywhere, so I left it alone and went with it. The swirling stopped. And everything else stopped with it.

Crossing over (pt 7)

2007-12-06T03:36:57Z

As charming as all that was, though, it would turn into a big pain in the ass quicker than I will get out of this thing. I could feel it.
“Ok. Whatever you sa—” I soon noticed the changing scenery. Objects around me disappeared and new ones appeared—all in a circular motion, creating the illusion of the world spinning faster than normal. “Wha—?” I began. “Why is it so warm?” The question shocked me as much as it shocked him. But I didn’t show it; I couldn’t look stupid.
His response answered not only the question I verbalized, but also the one I meant to ask. “I don’t know how to make this sound less crazy—
“Can it really get any crazier than it already is?” I sarcastically interrupted.
“Probably not,” he agreed, then continued, “We’re entering your nightmare, your fears, so that I can help you understand yourself and get back to the way you used to be, the way you long to be again.”

Crossing over (pt 6)

2007-11-19T22:48:27Z

“How do I know that you won’t hurt me?” I was wasting my breath; my body had fallen into his arms immediately with a sense of security that had become strange to me over the years. But I partially refused to believe him and was partially curious. Another part of me was just being difficult—old habits tend to stick around.
He smiled. Oh, what a beautiful smile! “You don’t. But if you don’t trust me now, I know you will eventually.” I knew I trusted him. For some odd reason, I knew that he knew, too.

Crossing over (pt 5)

2007-11-19T22:47:50Z

What I was doing calling to God after ditching him all these years, I had no idea. With the thoughts jumbling in my mind, I fought the stranger. Well, I attempted to fight, if you can even call it that. But he interrupted my pathetic attempt with his soothing voice, “It’s alright. Don’t fight it. I’m here. It’s ok. Don’t be afraid.” My body fell limp into his arms, immediately believing his words.
For the first time, I looked up at him, not recognizing his face at all. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”
“Don’t worry about who I am. You’ll find out soon. Just know that I’m here to help you and that I won’t hurt you,” he replied.