In Scientia, page 25
“Lux… anfractus… ad visum.”
I was sitting in front of our floor-length mirror, watching with anticipation as nothing happened. Over and over again I tried, feeling more and more foolish for having thought it would work, until I realized I was still wearing my necklace.
Unlocking the clasp, I slid the chain’s ends apart and tucked it into my jacket pocket. As l lifted my head, my mind surged with an overload of information, a brain freeze overwhelming all my senses.
Placing both hands on the ground, I tried to stabilize myself, extracting sorely needed oxygen from the air. “You’ve got this, you’ve got this, you’ve got this,” I encouraged myself.
I took another large breath, this time imagining it calming my frayed nerves. Slowly, I peeked around the room.
The afternoon sun had saturated everything in light: the white walls, white bedding, white ceiling, each bouncing light into a playground of multi-colored convergence. Rainbow refractions zipped around the room, the energy pulsating as if it were alive.
As I attempted to stand, water molecules rose and fell in front of my face in a state of harmonic dependence. Dizzying my senses, I fell into the wall—I may not have been moving, but the world around me was and my body couldn’t process it. I reached into my jacket pocket to retrieve the necklace, when something on the shelf next to me caught my attention.
It was a small aloe vera plant in a white pot, its thick, spiked leaves spiraling upwards. I’d never really noticed its beauty before, nor the precise geometry of its spiral. Now, however, I could see energy cycling in and out of it, particles rising and falling in a delicate dance around its orbit. It was more subtle than the free-flowing energy around the room, but as I drew closer, the details became clearer. The plant was microscopically filtering the room, drawing in carbon dioxide and releasing oxygen that seemed to float directly towards me.
I was in such awe at the miracle of the process that I actually started tearing up. I was witnessing something that I knew existed, but had never been able to see before, directly challenging my skeptical heart. In that moment, I realized what a gift I’d been given. How fortunate I was to experience what so many other people couldn’t. I wondered how different the world would be if everyone could see what I was seeing. If selfish-by-nature humans could directly witness the visual impact of how plants aided their lives, perhaps they’d be worshiped more than gold.
Inspiration crashed over me like a wave, bringing with it the realization that this was the answer I’d been unwittingly searching for my whole life. It was a way to tell the truth, to help people, to ensure I left the world better than I found it so no one else had to suffer the way I had.
I pushed off the wall to stand upright, battling the enormous weight of gravity and the nausea swooshing in my stomach. Rubbing my thumb back and forth over the citrine in rapid succession, I began reciting the words I already knew by heart:
“Lux anfractus ad visum, lux anfractus ad visum.”
Within moments, I could see sparks of energy being released as the electrons within the citrine were becoming charged. The silica within the stone was reacting with the rose oxide to create a vapor, which was being absorbed by my skin. It was turning the rock, and my hand, invisible.
Amazed, I gazed into the mirror across from me, as my arm and sleeve started slowly disappearing. Along with my shoulder. Then my neck. Then my face. I should’ve been panicking, but I was too exhilarated with possibility.
It was by far the strangest sensation I’d ever experienced; knowing I was standing there, yet unable to see my own reflection. My ears tingled, perhaps as a warning bell, but nowhere near loud enough to stop me.
I paced the room, trying to think of where I should go, or what I should do. I considered sneaking into McKenzie’s office to change my grade, or exploring the newsroom of The New York Times, but I didn’t know how long the invisibility would last and I didn’t want to get caught suddenly reappearing somewhere I shouldn’t be. Especially in an office full of journalists.
Instead my mind, or rather my heart, were suckered into thoughts of Max. Of where he might be, of what he might be doing…
Then it struck me so embarrassingly hard I wanted to slap myself: how he’d interacted with the man in the park, instantly pacifying him; how he’d asked about my grandparents; how I’d passed out in his arms. Foolishness flushed my cheeks and then anger overtook everything. Without a second thought, and with nothing but my jacket and Delilah’s piece of citrine, I bolted out the door.
I hadn’t gone far when I nearly tumbled down the staircase. The inability to see my own feet as I attempted to lower them onto each step presented a coordination challenge I wasn’t sure I’d ever be equipped for. It felt like walking down a broken escalator backward, my brain fighting the preconceived notion it knew too well.
The overwhelming sensations I was experiencing indoors, however, paled in comparison to what awaited me outside. Exiting the building I was engulfed by an avalanche of movement, information bombarding me from all angles.
Quickly discarding the plan I had to walk, I jumped into a taxi that had pulled up to the curb.
“City Hall Park, please,” I instructed the driver, the closest monument I could remember near the downtown highrise Max had taken me to. It was his ‘favorite place’ after all, if anything he’d told me had been the truth.
Turning around, the driver looked at me confused, before turning back and accelerating.
We hadn’t even got a block away before he turned the wrong direction. “Hey. City Hall’s back there!” I exclaimed, rapping my hand against the partition to catch his attention. He glanced in his rearview mirror, then looked over his shoulder, before slamming his foot on the brakes to an attention-grabbing stop.
He cast one more glance at me before leaping out of the car screaming, “Tener que ir al babalao!”
It took me a very long, slow second to realize why.
I’d been so focused on ignoring the energy whizzing around me that I’d forgotten the state of my body. Crimson washed over me, not that anyone could see.
I was at a loss for what to do. Opening the door wasn’t an option with the driver outside causing a scene, especially since people on the street had begun to stop and stare.
As I tried to figure a way out, I glanced down at my hand, horrified to discover that I could see it. Stress surged in my chest, making me question how much my body could actually handle, before I pulled out the citrine and started rubbing it again. My hand instantly disappearing.
I looked up in time to see the driver climbing back into his seat, slamming his door shut behind him. A cloud of dust swirled towards me, right into my nose.
Holding my breath, I fought the urge to sneeze as he spun around like a startled cobra, coming face to face with me through the partition.
“Achoo.”
“I know I heard something that time!” He looked petrified, banging his hand on the plexiglass as he yelled.
“Stop it!” I yelled back, out of impulse. To my surprise, he did.
Looking outside the car, his performance was attracting more onlookers, some of whom were filming on their phones. He made the sign of the cross on his forehead, chest and shoulders, and I knew I had no choice but to strengthen my commitment.
“I won’t hurt you,” I said. As I did, I noticed Santeria beads on his dashboard and hoped his faith in things he couldn’t see would fall in my favor. “I just need you to drive to City Hall Park and everything will be okay. Please,” I requested, speaking as calm and non-threatening as possible.
The taxi driver shut his eyes tightly and opened them, as if he could blink away the hallucination.
“I’m going insane…” he muttered to himself, squishing his face up against the partition to check the floor.
When he couldn’t see anything, he turned back around and accelerated up the street. I figured I’d make a run for it on the next block, when he did a U-turn over a crosswalk to head south toward my destination. I smiled to myself and closed my eyes, trying to give my nerves a moment to rest.
We’d gotten halfway there when he started babbling.
“I didn’t mean to cheat on her, I swear. It just happened. She’s always miserable. Nothing’s ever good enough. She—”
“Woah, okay, let’s not go blaming her for your crappy choices,” I blurted out defensively, momentarily forgetting the whole invisibility thing again. Fortunately, it bought me the rest of the ride in silence to concentrate on not being sick. The movement of the car and the information of everything around me was threatening to short-circuit my brain.
As we neared the park, the driver pulled over, his face pale and clammy, probably just as mine looked.
“Tell your wife the truth. Maybe she’ll understand,” I suggested.
He made the sign of the cross again.
“She won’t,” he replied, his head bowed. “She’s too good of a woman.”
“Well, that’s for her to decide. We all deserve the dignity of the truth,” I said, opening the car door and running out before he had a chance to ask me more questions I didn’t have the answers to.
Laser-focused, I dashed across the park toward the building I’d last seen from the back of Max’s bike. The limestone-colored tourelles on the tower’s corners glistened in the sunlight as I pushed through the heavy gold and glass doors.
Bypassing the doorman was simpler this time, though the stairs and ladder proved far worse. When I got out through the manhole, using all the body strength I had, and Max wasn’t there, I felt like I might finally be sick. The bird’s eye view showcased an explosion of energy I couldn’t possibly process, especially against the deluge of disappointment rising in my throat. It was like stepping into Jackson Pollock’s New York, without a single tether to the ground.
I took shelter on the stone floor, regaining my strength while the wind gently whipped my hair around my face. I watched, mesmerized, as different streams of air intertwined. The symphony of it calmed me, as I let the invisibility wear off before attempting to climb back down.
Disappointed, I pressed the elevator call button, but as it lit up, I felt an unmistakable magnetic pull. I swung around to face the door behind me, leading to the penthouse apartment.
Temporarily frozen, I listened for any kind of sound. Then, without thinking, I strode over to the door and knocked on it. Loud. Five times.
From inside, I heard movement. The rustle of fabrics, followed by footsteps.
The suspense both petrified and excited me.
I went to knock again, when the door opened to reveal a model-tall woman with naturally highlighted brunette hair. She had a perfect smile and distinct eyes that elevated her out of being cookie-cutter pretty.
“Can I help you?” she asked, almost seductively. Though I could imagine anything she ever said would sound that way. She was the epitome of everything I wasn’t: bouncy, sparkly and cool. If I wasn’t feeling nauseated before, I certainly was now.
“Max?” I managed to get out.
As soon as I said his name, my heart sank, realizing who the woman might be to him if he was there.
“He’s out,” she said, confirming my worst fears. It meant he’d lied about so much more than I realized, and yet somehow that didn’t soften the blow.
“Guess that’s what I get for turning up unannounced,” I said, trying to downplay play it. “Tell him Eva stopped by?” I asked, backing away.
“You’re Eva?” she exclaimed, her face lighting up.
“Uh, yes. That’s me,” I confirmed, feeling slightly better that he’d at least mentioned me.
“It’s so great to finally meet you!” she said, reaching out to hug me. Her hair smelled like she used too much conditioner. I couldn’t help but like her.
She stepped back, sadly just as pretty up close. “It’s so crazy, I didn’t even know he had a sister until a couple of weeks ago,” she revealed, like a heavy-handed punch to my face.
My legs felt broken, just like my heart surely was. Moisture burning my sinuses.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Did I say something wrong?”
I couldn’t find words. I just shook my head. The anxiety of forcing my way into Max’s life had become a stark reality. I’d chased and chased, and was still chasing, ruining another girl’s life in the process.
“I am so sorry,” I whispered unable hold back the tears any longer. She looked horrified, and with good reason. “It was great to meet you, but I’ve gotta go…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence or think up an excuse to leave. I turned around and slammed my hand against the elevator button. Barely holding myself together. My body wanted to heave, but I wouldn’t let it break free.
“Damnit. I can’t do this,” said Max, his husky voice reviving me like a defibrillator placed directly on my chest. I turned around to see the brunette dissolving into thick, iridescent smoke.
Standing twelve feet behind her was him.
Twenty-Four
Colorblind
He stopped my heart, and my breath, more beautiful than anyone I’d ever seen. As if my newfound clarity made him even more dazzling.
Light drenched his crystal-brown eyes making his thick, black lashes stand out even more; the cherry in his lips summoning the memory of when they were close.
If I weren’t so violently mad, I might have fallen even more in love with him right then and there. Instead, I launched forward with the fury of an army—the electricity of my anger propelling me toward him, as if I were flying without an engine.
I don’t remember falling down and blacking out. I only remembered seeing his face, and then feeling him cradling my head.
“Not again,” I managed to get out.
I felt him chuckle.
“Get off me.”
He obliged, pulling my head up to remove his arm and replacing it with a pillow from his couch. As the room came back into focus so did the throbbing in my head, the vividness too much to bear.
I slipped my hand inside my jacket pocket to retrieve my necklace. The touch of the stone instantly calmed my system, enough to be able to clasp it back around my neck.
“What. The hell. Was that?” I finally managed to get out. The fainting portion of my life had better come to an end soon, I thought.
“An illusion. What are you doing here, Eva?” he snapped. “Tell me you didn’t just walk in the front door?” It appeared he was also mad.
“Seriously?” I replied. “You’re seriously gonna say that to me after what just happened? After everything that’s happened?” My annoyance was affording me the energy I needed to sit upright. “Yes, I walked in the front door—”
“Oh my God,” he exclaimed, suddenly standing and pacing across the room. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“What’s the big deal?” I said, flinging my arms up in the air. “Are you really that insulted by my presence?” I was starting to feel like day-old sushi.
“Anyone could have seen you come in, or… or expel a plume of neon smoke in my living room!” he said, walking over to look out the windows before hastily closing the thick floor to ceiling drapes.
“I expelled smoke?” I asked. “From where? Also, I wouldn’t be here if you’d returned so much as a text.”
“It’s not safe for you,” he barked, but I wasn’t done.
“I knew you had to be involved in all this. I knew it!” I said, even though I hadn’t known until just minutes earlier.
“What part of it’s not safe don’t you understand?!”
“I made myself invisible, alright? No one saw me!”
My words seemed to appease him enough to relax slightly. He looked away from me as I stared at his pensive face.
“So, who’s the brunette?”
I thought I saw him roll his eyes. “I told you, an illusion.”
“An illusion for what?” I asked, my mind running amok with less than favorable ideas.
“To keep people away,” he corrected me.
“I imagine she gets some people to stay,” I quipped.
He took a breath, I assumed because he was feeling guilty for being so rude.
“It’s a manifestation. Of the beholder’s fears.”
“Oh,” I retreated, thinking back to how perfect she was. “Oh… well, I mean. I wouldn’t say she’s like my worst fear.”
He took a seat on his aged leather couch and, for the first time since I arrived, I took in his apartment.
It had polished concrete floors in every visible room, with random pieces of modern art propped up against the stark, white walls. The only element of depth in the space came from black velvet curtains. “So, this is your place? It’s nice. A little cold and serial killer-y, but ni—”
He shook his head. “Did they really not tell you?”
“Apparently not if you have to ask me,” I blurted out, rising to my feet. I felt like a child sitting on the ground and his tone wasn’t helping. Peering down the hall I could see two suitcases, both halfway packed. “You going somewhere?”
“The rules,” he said, his face falling, laced with dread. “Where’s your symbol to start with?” he probed. “You’re not displaying it.” He stood up swiftly to spin me around, searching, I guessed, for the necklace Alida and Terence gave me.
“The necklace? Oh… I guess I forgot,” I admitted, confused. I assumed it was ceremonial. “I didn’t realize they were serious.”
He fell silent, turning away from me.
Somehow, I knew I’d crossed a line.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for rules,” I added. “Like never let a friend eat alone. I love that rule.”
“Don’t belittle this,” he said, seething without facing me.
“Max… that’s not what I meant.”
He turned around and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the Symbol of In Unio freshly branded into his skin, the sharp points of the triangle, cross and square, melding with the jaggedly cut circle. The muscles of his chest and shoulders taut with rage.
