« Preoccupied | Main | Well, I've hit dead ends »

November 7, 2003


I was going to post directly from Cyberia, but I'm still shaking, and I felt like staying in that place one second longer would be more than I could bear.

My hands are so cold right now. This cold snap and the adrenalin coursing through me right now have me fighting the shakes. Ugh.

I was madly curious if there were a CD here in the city, so I went ahead and checked it out without you. I parked in the lot across the street, and it seemed a lifetime that I waited first on the sidewalk, and then at the median for all the cars to flood by, so I could cross. The warm smells of the elotes carts wafted over - chili powder, steamed corn, sweet smell of shaved ice flavorings, mixed together and carried in the damp, cold air.

Inside this little hole in the wall internet cafe, it was warm and inviting and somewhat cramped. There was a woman at one terminal jotting notes and kicking up her feet in one of the comfy chairs as she transmitted data via her laptop. Another couple of young men were scrolling through shows at the Double Door at one of the cafe's computers.

The place was too small to go looking for any sort of hidden spot - so I bucked up all my courage and asked the guy that was there if there was any sort of package for 'Emerson.'

"Nope," he smiled, "Someone already got it. So sorry."

"What?? When??" I managed to squeak out. Reminder to self, jaw hitting floor decidedly unsexy.

"I dunno, but I think one of our other staff members handed it off just a couple of hours ago."

Stunned, but unsure of how to handle this ... disappointment? vertigo? in a public location, I ordered some herbal tea, sipped at it for a few minutes as I perched on a chair, and then thanked the man and headed back across the street to the car, the purple awning one of the only truly colorful spots in my line of vision.

I came home.

A couple of hours ago, someone came into that cafe, and asked for the very thing that was specifically for us to find. I don't know what's going on here, but I am not sure I feel very safe right now. It doesn't feel safe for either of us. How could someone have known about the information we were looking for? Why would they take something that was not meant for their eyes?

Who knows about this? Why do they want this information?

I can't stop shaking.

I am looking over the files you sent me, and I wonder if it would've been the same files at Cyberia, or perhaps something different. An explanation for all of this, a justification for the confusion and fear I am feeling in my heart.

The photo of the boy is the one I stay with the most. That's our boy, Ethan. I can feel it as surely in my heart as my music - he is bound to us much as we are bound to him. The promise of love and care is one that cannot be made lightly. When I look at his photo, I see the same eyes I saw in my dreams - he's brushing past me downtown where everyone around me is dressed in opera wear, he's the one holding my hand in the slate grey darkness of nothingness and loss.

He is mine, and he knows me, through and through. We have been through things together, he and I. He is my wonder and my joy, and right now, he is my sorrow. Where is he, love? Why are we here now, in this place, with no recollection in our lives of this most important aspect? How in the hell did we get Here, when There is a place that doesn't even connect up with our present day? Who did this to us, and why?

I can hardly believe it myself. I look at the documents, and they feel right. And yet, something is very wrong about this. Somehow I refuse to believe we had anything to do with this, that we somehow orchestrated a major upheaval like this. But it looks like we did. And it also looks like someone else knows. I am never going back to that cafe - someone could be watching, you know?

Tomorrow won't get here soon enough, Ethan. You'll be here, and then everything will be at least OK on the surface. We'll have each other.

Posted by dina at November 7, 2003 5:20 AM