Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [28]
“Yara, you need to explore this for me. This is the sort of thing that validates all the stuff I want to believe in,” Cherie explained desperately, perching on the edge of her bed. Tears had gathered in the corners of her eyes. “This is important to me. Try it again.” Then she mopped her tears with her shirt sleeve. “Or better yet, teach me how to do it, too, and I’ll come with you. Please, Yara.”
I hesitated, considering. Cherie never understood why I didn’t fully embrace my ‘spiritual heritage’ as she called it. The hours and hours she had spent with my grandma had created this insatiable desire in her to try and become, in her words, what I already was. Even knowing all of that, my answer was no, and I was going to tell her so. But then I saw her eyes. They were wide, innocent, and artfully teary, twinkling with hope and all kinds of unspoken things to guilt me into agreeing.
I sighed. I could never tell her no when she used that weapon on me. Would it really kill me to help her? Brent had said that it was bound to keep happening to me anyway, well before he had said it was dangerous and should be suppressed. If I tried it with someone else, maybe it wouldn’t seem so much like surrendering to an unwanted destiny— it would be something we could do together.
“All right, fine. You win.” I threw up my hands in defeat. “That was a lowdown, dirty maneuver,” I couldn’t help but add.
Cherie ignored me; she was grinning from ear to ear. “I wonder how far we’ll be able to go.”
“I doubt we’ll even be able to get out of the room. It’s not like we can turn the doorknob.”
“What if we had the door open?”
I thought for a minute. “That might work, but there are lots of other doors to go through.” I bit my lip, contemplating alternatives. “Maybe if we had the window open, we could go down the fire escape.”
Cherie’s eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea.” She ran over to the window and slid it open, letting the cool evening air blow into our room. “So how do we start?”
“Beats me,” I said.
Cherie had a few ideas. “How about if we sit in like some sort of meditative pose?” Cherie plopped down crosslegged and I sat down in like manner across from her, mimicking what I had done before, explaining it to her as I did. It was easier this time, as if my spirit knew what was coming and was anticipating the freedom it was about to experience. Energy exploded inside me as I separated.
Leaping up I turned to look at myself. A moment of doubt broke through when I noticed my pale, lifeless skin; it was obvious that my body was vacant of the spirit that normally dwelt there.
I look dead.
A warning swam through me but I refused to listen because no matter how I appeared, my spirit had never felt more free or alive.
Cherie would love this. Remembering my friend, I turned toward her.
Cherie’s face was scrunched up in concentration. I wondered if I reached out and touched her, if maybe her spirit would join mine. My fingers gently touched her face. Her skin was hot and she didn’t feel completely solid— more like she was made of gelatin, rubbery almost, rippling under my touch.
“Cherie,” I called, my voice soft and melodious, heavenly almost. I hesitated for a moment, waiting to see if she’d join me, but she didn’t. I wasn’t sure what to do. Am I brave enough to go further without her?
After a brief moment, I knew my answer. I was.
I turned toward the window, leaned against the pane, and found it solid. Would the same go for the fire-escape? I imagined my spirit spilling through the metal grate like water through a sieve. I tested it first, sitting on the ledge and pressing down with one foot. It felt secure, so I stepped outside and climbed down to the