The Storms of Eternity

Prologue

He wanted to open his eyes. He had slept for so long. The darkness clung behind his eyelids like a drop of tar on his pupils. And yet the darkness was not complete. He saw streaks of color in it, red slashes like claw marks furrowing through the black. Red, the color of the accident. The other car had been red, or so Josh remembered now in this state between unconsciousness and awakening for which there is no name. But he felt sure the car had been red; it was the most concrete thing he could feel in this black whirling state of mind, this state where he seemed to feel like he was lying on a table that tilted and turned at random angles. The flashing lights of the police cars and the ambulance had been red. The fire had looked red. His blood had been red. The accident had been an explosion of crimson light. Red, the color of screams and murder, lust and terror and death.

A horrifying thought possessed him. He felt suddenly sure those red claw marks in the dark fabric of his awakening would open upon the shattered and crumpled remains of his car, and he would open his eyes and see the entombment of his flight from humiliation all around him.

Oh Jen, why did you say that? Why did you hurt me?

The thought of his sister, his twin in spirit and heart aside from the fact that they had shared a womb, refreshed the pain of her words. His traitor memory took him back to their argument. (How long ago had that been? His sense of time had been broken like the digital clock in the dashboard of his truck.) Arguing over Mike, their mutual friend, the only thing they could not share between them. And the words she had said

(such a faggot)

had sent him storming from the house. And then the red car had come and hit him and the whole world had gone as red as one of those red supergiant stars Mike had told them about, those ancient stars that swelled up and swallowed their planets before they died.

Mike was always talking about astronomy. It was his one great passion. Mike was the reason Josh wanted to open his eyes. Josh felt if he did not fight his way out of this red-furrowed blackness right now, he might never be able to leave it. Trapped here with darkness and pain and memory, never to see Mike again.

No, he wanted to see him. He wanted to open his eyes.

He willed himself to feel the ascent of awakening. That feeling of rising came, not floating as one does on the verge of sleep, but of rising purposefully upwards towards consciousness like a diver to the sun-dappled surface. The black and red of his unconsciousness began to pale.

The elements of what we are were made in the cores of stars, Mike had said to him once. Synthesized there, and then spread out into the Universe when the star explodes. How Josh wanted to hear him talk about those things again!

Wait, I think he’s waking up…

Voices. Far away. He struggled towards them.

…uhnnnn…

Josh? Josh, it’s Jen. I’m here.

Jen! He was so glad she wasn’t angry anymore. He hated it when they fought. The black background and red slashes paled to a translucent gray and pink, like a shroud placed over his face. He could see figures moving through it.

Josh, please wake up. I didn’t mean it. Oh God, please wake up.

Unnnnh… ah!

Something was lodged in his skull! He could feel it there, hard and metal, painfully pressing against his temples. He was still in the wreck! They hadn’t gotten him out! Throbbing pain coursed down his neck, his back, through his skull. His eyes fluttered open, white light washed through his pupils, and he saw he was not still in the wreck after all.

Faces loomed out of the white light and hung suspended over him, unfamiliar faces of strangers with lined faces and thick black-rimmed glasses. A man and woman in white. Then he heard Jen, speaking in that commanding tone of hers.

Excuse me! Move! The woman was pushed aside and he saw his sister’s face above him, her brown hair mussed, her face red from crying.

The nurse Jen had shoved looked outraged. Miss, you can’t do-

Quiet! Jen snapped. Then she looked back down at Josh. Hey brother, welcome back. You’re okay. You’re gonna be… okay.

Liar, he thought. I can always tell when you’re lying, Jen. But you never believed I could. He tried to move his head. Pain flared through his skull like the stab of an icepick.

Don’t move, the man, obviously a doctor, said. You’re in traction, you mustn’t move your head or try-

Don’t talk to him that way, Jen said, her voice low and dangerous. He’s not stupid, even if he doesn’t have a medical degree.

Miss, you need to leave, the doctor said.

Ha! Jen laughed.

Oh Jen, stop. Not now. Josh closed his eyes and tried to raise his hand to his forehead. Nothing came. For a moment, Josh stopped listening to his sister and the doctor as confusion overcame him. He had tried to raise his hand and rub his forehead in frustration, and yet his hand was not on his forehead. He opened his eyes. His hand should be right in front of his face, but it wasn’t there. He tried to look down at his body. It was difficult with the iron bars holding his head in place, but he managed to glance down with only his eyes. He saw his hand lying limply on top of the blanket beside him, a place where, he now realized, he felt it to be. He willed his hand to move.

His hand did not move.

Car accident, Josh thought just before understanding hit him, impacting his life like the red car had done. My hand does not move.

He heard his sister arguing with the doctor and he felt the iron bars in his skull. But he did not feel the blanket on top of him. He felt… nothing.

He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the darkness willingly, fell into it as if into an abyss.

Made in the stars before they die, he thought, and a tear slid down his cheek. And then the darkness had him once again.

I

The Journey

1: Mike

He stood perched atop the mast of the sailboat: a young man with wavy blond hair and a handsome although not remarkable face. He stretched his arms into the wind, and that wind made the boat tip and sway. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the gentle motion like the rocking of a mother’s arms. He let the wind surge over him and with his eyes closed he felt like he was flying. He stood twenty feet above the deck of the boat and yet he was fearless of falling. He let the sensation take him and tried to forget the horror of the last nine months.

His best friend Josh had been paralyzed in a car wreck and he did not know how to handle it. Nothing like this had ever happened to anyone close to Mike. He’d had a privileged life, untouched by tragedy or pain. Until this had happened. Now, because of his inability to handle the emotional turmoil of Josh’s situation, Mike had begun to see himself as a spoiled preppy brat, with his rich family and his own personal sailboat, fresh out of college with a degree in astrophysics. Someone who had never had to deal with a loved one’s pain. He did not know if he had the emotional reserves to handle this inner reflection and self-doubt, but for Josh’s sake he had to. He had to.

He opened his eyes and looked around as if the world were new to him. The Sun hung like a bloated red eye over the ocean to the west and cast its bloody reflection into the water. The ocean stretched its wide and shifting surface over the face of the world until it touched the horizon and merged with the lighter blue of the sky. Mike looked over his shoulder to the north, where the brown Alaskan coast jutted between sea and sky. Seagulls dipped, soared and screamed over the rocky shore. He looked south again and saw only the wide-open freedom of the ocean.

Timeless, he thought. This place is timeless.

He let his arms fall to his sides. The wind flowed into his eyes and made them water. He felt tears oozing to the corners of his eyes, but he did not let them fall.

From his perch atop the mast, Mike looked down at his friends sitting on the deck of the sleek white thirty-foot sailboat. Josh’s friend Reese was sitting at the bow, looking at the waves. Josh and Jen sat together, talking, wrapped in the same quilt against the cold air. Jen moved her hands up and down in front of her, palms up, fingers curled, like she was trying to claw out her heart.

God, they’re at it again, Mike thought. He could not understand why Jen felt so guilty about Josh’s Accident. He knew something unpleasant had passed between them just before it happened, but that was no reason for Jen to torture herself. Josh had not died; he had been hurt badly, rendered a paraplegic, but he was alive.

Just a year ago Mike, Josh, Jen, and Reese had sailed this same route down the Alaskan coast. Mike now thought of that trip as the happiest time of his life. The four of them had talked, ate and drank on the sun-drenched deck of his father’s sailboat all day and slept piled up together below deck at night with the waves gently rocking them. Their world had been perfect and secure, untouched by tragedy. Now it seemed like they had just been naïve, and ignorant of what the future held.

But still, when Josh had healed enough to get out on his own somewhat, Mike had suggested they go on another trip. He hadn’t said so, but he thought they might be able to recapture that perfect happiness. But of course, he was wrong. Jen was so moody and depressed now, sometimes screaming at him, sometimes crying on his shoulder. The Accident (and oh yes, how the word had acquired that capitalization over the last few months) had changed her so much. Before Josh was hurt, Mike thought he could have had something with Jen. They had even shared one brief, clumsy kiss one night when he had stopped by the little white house where Josh and Jen lived with their mother, and no one else was around. Now the kiss seemed more sordid than romantic, as much as he fought the new impression.

And then there was the fourth member of their little crew, Reese, sitting up there at the bow staring at empty water for some reason. Mike didn’t really mind Reese’s presence, she seemed like an okay person, he just didn’t feel like she belonged to his exclusive circle of friends just yet. For as long as he could remember it had been Josh, Jen, and himself, the Big Three, hiking and camping together, going to the movies together, always the three of them. He didn’t know how Josh had met Reese, only that they had hooked up somehow about two years ago and now for some reason Josh wanted to include her in everything they did. He knew that Josh had some kind of remote fondness for Reese, but there were no romantic feelings involved, at least not on Josh’s part.

Mike hadn’t wanted Reese to go with them on last year’s trip, or this one either, but Josh had asked her to come along both times. Of course Mike had consented for Josh’s sake. He wasn’t about to deny Josh anything, especially now, but these sailing trips with his friends were special to Mike and he did not understand why Josh wanted a newcomer like Reese to come along. And that troubled him, that there was something about his friend he did not understand.

Mike climbed down the mast using the metal rungs set in each side of it like a ladder. Around him the sails flapped and whispered as they harnessed the wind’s power. When his feet finally clumped onto the boat’s white deck, Mike felt his spirits suddenly drop, as if he had left some vital part of himself hung at the mast’s peak. He looked up for a moment, as if he expected to see himself still up there looking down at him. Then he chastised himself for such a foolish thought and walked over to Josh and Jen.

Looking at the two of them, you would have never thought they were twins, or really even related. Jen had long brown hair and dark brown eyes, while Josh had short black hair and almost inhumanly pale blue eyes. Jen’s features were hard, more angular and masculine, while Josh’s face was softer, round, almost feminine, like their male and female traits had been mixed up in the womb. Their body traits were more similar; they both had a kind of lean muscularity to them, but that was probably more earned than inherited.

He picked up one of the quilts from the pile and wrapped it around his shoulders. I’m freezing! he said. It’s cold up there.

Then why did you go up there? Jen asked dryly.

There was a rope tangled, he said. I had to get it loose. Didn’t I tell you?

No, Jen said.

Oh, I thought I did.

Well, you didn’t.

Mike didn’t like the feel of this conversation, it sounded like she was trying to start a fight. He struggled to find something to talk to them about. He thought of his father, who had taught him how to sail, taught him how to tell his direction and position using the stars, which had kindled in him the love of astronomy.

You know, my dad used to wrap me up in these quilts, he said clumsily as he sat down next to them. When I was a kid, I mean. He’d wrap me up and set me down and I’d watch him pull in all these nets full of fish. Not always, I mean sometimes we wouldn’t catch anything, but it was still… nice, you know?

Hmm, Jen said. She chewed on her fingernail thoughtfully.

Josh only nodded.

Mike cleared his throat. He felt uncomfortable. He had never had difficulty talking to them before, not like now.

What’s happened to our friendship? he thought.

He decided to try again. You know, we should reach Juneau by tomorrow. I was thinking we could dock there and then maybe head out on the town. There’s a new movie I was wanting to see-

Jen turned and glared at him. He had never seen an expression on her face like the one she wore now. And then what? she asked. We’ll go dancing?

Mike started a little, stung by the remark and not knowing what to say. Josh put his hand on his sister’s knee, something he could not have done six months ago, before weeks of physical therapy had restored feeling and movement to his arms.

Don’t, he said.

Immediately Jen looked contrite. That’s not what I meant! she said.

The uncomfortable silence descended on them once again. Mike looked at his friends, feeling guilty, responsible, as if he had said something insensitive. He looked away for a moment, and his gaze fell on the wheelchair lying folded up on the deck. It looked so out of place.

Does he blame me for something? Is there anything I’ve said or done…?

He looked to the west, where the Sun was slowly falling behind the limb of the world. He wondered what was going on in his best friend’s mind, something he had never done. Before the Accident, he had always known.

2: Jen

She was a tall young woman with long brown hair and deep, dark eyes. She sat on the deck with her legs crossed and her hands folded demurely on her lap. It was an unusual position for her because it made her look so feminine. She knew she was still somewhat of a tomboy, even though she was long past the age where that would be considered acceptable.

She sat thinking intently, her head lowered a bit and turned so that a lock of her hair blew across her face, and she brushed it away with an absent gesture. She was fairly certain Josh had everything he needed right now. She thought the cold might be bothering his back or his legs even though he’d insisted he was okay, but Josh was the type who would just sit and be uncomfortable rather than complain. Maybe she’d try to get him to take some painkillers later. He didn’t like them, said they made him feel sick, but sometimes he needed them just the same. She felt a brief flush of joyless amusement. How her old high school classmates (she could never bring herself to think of them as her old friends from high school) would laugh if they saw her now. Reese may be a nurse by profession, but now Jen, the tomboy, the Big Bitch tough girl, was acting as the nursemaid for her brother. They would laugh at her even harder now than they did then.

She raised one knee and rested her chin on it, looking down at her worn hiking boots. Beneath the quilt, she was still wearing the dark green tank top and loose black slacks she had slept in the night before. She had worn those slacks during her taijitsu lessons, a martial arts class she had taken at the community college. She had worn them during her black belt trials. She looked at her mannish boots and thought of her mother.

Jen’s mother could never accept her butch ways. During their fights, which were all too frequent during Jen’s teenage years, her mother would sometimes say vindictively, You act like a man, I swear. What are you, a lesbian or something?

The way she said that word, lesbian, as if it was the most insulting accusation she could make. In those moments, Jen could swear she heard real hate in her mother’s voice. She knew it was just because she was born a girl, she knew it. She was sure in her mother’s eyes she was nothing more than a tumor grown out of her womb, clinging to her precious son, using his strength to come into the world.

Jen had nothing against lesbians; she wasn’t a bigoted person in that way, she just wasn’t a lesbian herself. And so what if she wasn’t like other girls? Just because she hated all the stupid frilly things other girls were into when she was a child, that didn’t make her a lesbian. She hadn’t worn a dress in years, but she was always so active that it would get in the way. For Jen, the standard outfit was hiking boots or tennis shoes, jeans or khaki pants or, her favorite, camouflage fatigues, and a t-shirt or tank top. Those clothes were practical. Makeup was also out. She wasn’t about to put that crap all over her face, forget it. None of that made her a lesbian. Far from it. Mike was one of the coolest people she’d ever known. He was the only person in her life besides Josh who treated her like an equal. When they played football, (in her own backyard, of course, no girls allowed on the high school field unless they’re wearing a cheerleader uniform) he would tackle her just as hard as he did any of his male friends. But there was more than that. He actually spoke to her the same way he did to his male friends. Other men she met always talked down to her, or worse, took on that sneering, patronizing tone they had when they were trying to pick her up. But Mike never did. He was always completely forthright with her and they were always on equal terms. Around him, she could be herself and it was okay.

Ironically, it was exactly this quality in Mike that she so loved that became the problem when she realized her feelings for him went beyond friendship. In some ways at least, she didn’t want Mike to treat her the same as he did his male friends. But she was stuck with this little-brother image in Mike’s mind. How to change that?

She wasn’t about to try the more traditional methods of flirting that all the other girls tried. It sickened her when she saw other women fawning over the objects of their affection, lowering themselves to the level of the man’s servant and seeing how the men just lapped it up. That was totally against her character. No, the problem was to get Mike to see her more as a woman, the woman she was, but a woman still. So she tried a very simple method: she talked to him. She shifted the emphasis of their relationship away from sports and competition and tried to relate to Mike on a personal level.

He was completely oblivious at first, but the more she talked with him, the more he seemed to open his eyes, and he saw more than just a football buddy. Then came the night he stopped by for a visit. It was a couple of months after their last sailing trip and he had been upset. His first wave of applications to grad schools had all been declined. She was genuinely sympathetic; she knew how much his career meant to him. She wished she had a passion for something as much as Mike did for astronomy.

It’s not like this is your last chance, she had said. So you have to wait another year. Those schools probably just didn’t have any positions open. But you will find someplace, Mike. You’re grades are good, you’re test scores are good. And most of all, I know that you love what you do. I have never known anyone who is honestly striving to do what they love. You don’t know how much I admire you for that.

She had said that to him as they sat together at her kitchen table, quietly talking in the dim lamplight. And he had looked up at her and smiled. He had heard her! His response wasn’t phony or manipulative. It was real.

And then it had happened. He had reached over and touched her hand and she had leant in close to him and their lips had touched. At that moment, Jen thought her heart would burst as it filled with the lifetime of joy that had eluded her for so long. The doors of her fate had opened upon a new life for her, as she knew she could finally relate to someone who accepted her.

And then Josh’s Accident, and those doors had been cruelly slammed shut.

She still had a hard time accepting it. Sometimes she would wake up at night and think it was all a dream. And then the reality of it would come crashing down on her and she would start to weep.

They’d been fighting before the Accident, over some stupid thing or another. She couldn’t remember the reason, but she could vividly remember every mean, spiteful thing she’d said. Josh had left the house angry, taken off in his little Brat truck, and been hit by a drunk driver. A drunk driver! It wasn’t even his fault. But in Jen’s heart, she didn’t blame the man who hit him. It was because of her that he’d stormed out of the house when he did. In Jen’s heart, she blamed herself.

The day it happened, she’d been sitting in the living room after the argument, watching TV and trying really hard to be calm and sure of herself. She wanted to prove that no one, no one, could get to her, not even her brother. She was too strong for that, she wasn’t about to let some petty fight even scratch the surface of her cool. And then the phone rang. Josh had been in an accident. His back was broken. He was in a coma. It looked doubtful that Josh would survive. And her own self-absorption and defensiveness had been laid bare to Jen. She had driven to the hospital in a panicked daze. Every moment she had expected her cell phone to ring with news that Josh was dead.

Her mother had met her in the waiting room. There was none of her usual coldness about her. Melinda Carter had greeted Jen with nothing more than warm concern. But Jen knew better. This was the same woman who had asked her if she was a lesbian, and meant it as an insult.

Are you happy now, Jennifer? her mother’s quiet eyes seemed to say to her. Your brother is almost dead, and it’s all because of you. Where were you? Why did you let this happen? Just what did you say to him? Faggot, that’s what you said. You called the brother who has always loved you and stood up for you a faggot and look what’s happened. Does this make you happy, you little whore? You lesbian.

Her mother had never said a word to her as they sat together in that waiting room but Jen heard her every unspoken word and held each one true. Sitting there full of panic and despair, she had delivered her mother’s spiteful condemnation of her to herself, in the dark poisoned lairs of her heart.

The doctor had appeared and said, grim faced like an angel, that Josh would live. Josh would live! It seemed her relief and joy would break her. She had a second chance! She could make things all right again! At that moment, Jen had almost felt the presence of a God she had never believed in.

But when they finally got a chance to go in and see him, the truth came home to her. He was in a horrid metal apparatus. It was traction, to take the pressure off his shattered spine. The doctors said that Josh would never walk again. He was a paraplegic and would remain so forever. For the next several months, Josh would need constant medical care and assistance. His body would have to be inspected daily for sores or cuts that he could not feel and may become infected. A nurse wearing rubber gloves would have to manually empty his bowels. Until he could care for himself, someone would have to tend to his every need.

All right, Jen decided in an instant. She would do it. Josh would want for nothing. She would do everything in her power to protect him. She would be the sister Josh had always deserved, and that she had never been. It was, she felt, the least she could do.

3: Josh

He stared at the quiet blue sky and his pale eyes seemed to reflect that same endless blue depth. Jen huddled next to him. He wished she would say something. She was always such a talker before. He knew how much pain she was in and he wished there was something he could say to make her feel better. But he knew there wasn’t. His sister had never put much stock in what other people thought. She had such strong opinions. If she was determined to feel this way, there was nothing anyone could do to change her mind. It was all right, though. She just needed a little time, that’s all, to sort things out. It was really the only thing he could give her now.

He looked over at Mike sitting next to Jen. Josh knew Mike wanted to talk to Jen, but he didn’t know what to say. This hurt Josh in a strange multifaceted way. He hurt for Mike because he knew how confused Mike was right now and what a hard time he was having trying to deal with, well, with him. He hurt for Jen because of the guilt she felt and because of everything she was missing by not letting herself get back into life again. He hurt for both of them because he knew they could have had a relationship and because of his Accident it had ended before it had ever begun.

His broken back didn’t hurt, not really, not anymore. The first few months of traction and therapy had been incredibly painful; he hadn’t known it was possible for a person to feel so much pain. But he’d survived it and was stronger now in a strange hard way. His numb legs were now just so much dead weight. He’d even considered asking the doctors to just take them right off. It wasn’t like he needed them anymore and it would increase his mobility by taking away all that extra weight that was slowing him down. But he never did ask them to amputate. He understood how disturbing such a request would be to them, and how disturbing it would be to everyone who saw him. It was bad enough he was in a wheelchair now, that made people uncomfortable enough. Seeing him legless would really freak them out. And to be honest, unlike his sister, he cared a great deal about how other people felt and thought about him, themselves, and the world. He was sensitive that way and he supposed it caused him some problems now and then. One could even make the argument that his sensitivity had paralyzed him.

It was the fight, that damn fight he had started with Jen. He almost never started the occasional arguments he had with his sister, but this one time he’d been so angry. They had gone on a hiking trip with Mike, and Jen had kept pushing herself next to him and monopolizing the conversation. Josh had trailed along behind them, feeling left out and embarrassed. When they finally went home, he did what he had rarely done before and vented his feelings.

You know Jen, I would have liked to have talked to Mike some too, you didn’t have to keep throwing yourself at him!

Jen had turned around and given him a spiteful glare.

And just why do you feel that way, Josh? God, I swear, sometimes you act like such a faggot it scares me.

Unlike himself, Jen never held back in a fight. She always went straight for the jugular and her words had such a mean accuracy to them that they would always shame him into silence. This time he had turned and stormed out of the house, slammed the door behind him and climbed into his truck. As he left, Jen came out of the house and taunted him from the back porch.

Where you going, Josh? she’d said gleefully. Don’t you wanna stay and talk about it some more? Come on out, Josh! Kick that closet door down!

He’d peeled out of the gravel driveway, fighting back tears, hating himself for starting a stupid argument and hating himself more for running away. Why was she always so hateful? Why did he always hold back out of fear he would hurt her?

He turned onto the paved highway that headed into town. He had no idea where he was going, just away, anywhere but that house where he had humiliated himself. Soon the trees lining the highway gave way to housing subdivisions and finally the shopping strips and gas stations of town. The sky above was uniformly overcast and sent a soft blue glow down to the Earth. This strange quality of light cast everything in Josh’s vision in a strange blue hue, as if he were looking at the world through a blue filter. The soft blue light and constant humming of the truck’s engine lulled him. His anger and pain slowly ebbed away and oddly, no other feeling came to replace it. He felt numb and very quiet inside. His tears dried up and his vision cleared. But not only his vision, his awareness of his surroundings cleared. He seemed to observe the world with almost inhuman sharpness and clarity. A car was approaching in the opposite lane, a Toyota Camry. Inside it a woman was screaming at her child, jabbing her finger at the little boy sitting in the passenger seat. In the rearview mirror, he saw an old man driving a