Rooms - James L. Rubart [46]
By one o’clock he tromped through his house lugging a massive Black & Decker light-up-the-universe flashlight under his arm. He’d talked with the voice three more times since his first encounter, but Micah still wasn’t convinced it was himself. He wanted to do more than hear the voice, especially if he was going to talk about sensitive subjects. He wanted to see it. It wasn’t a Wizard of Oz voice that echoed throughout the room; it came from the center, fifteen or twenty feet back.
The voice said it had to be dark, that seeing each other would make it too difficult to focus on talking. Even if it were true, it didn’t explain why the room was pitch black.
He lugged the flashlight up to the room, hid it behind his back, and grabbed the door handle. He eased it open.
“Nice flashlight, Micah.”
Micah could tell the voice was smiling. “How can you know that?”
“We’ve been over this. I am you. You are me.” The voice laughed. “You can stop doubting anytime, you know.”
“So you know I’m going to shine this into the room in about two seconds?”
“Yeah. But do it anyway.”
Micah shot the beam straight into the heart of the room. Nothing. The light stopped two feet into the room, as if hitting an opaque pane of glass. The light reflected back at Micah, and he saw a muddied version of himself holding the flashlight. He walked up to the reflection and lifted his hand, expecting to touch the surface of something. But his hand went through the point of reflection, as if it was dense fog, and it disappeared.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” the voice asked.
Micah didn’t answer and flashed the beam to his right and left. Same result.
“Here’s something you probably didn’t realize or expect,” the voice said. “I can’t see you, either.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. It works both ways. As weird as it would be for you to see me, it’d be that weird for me to see you.”
“Then explain how you know things I don’t. If I’m you, I should know them, too.”
“I can see how you’d think that,” the voice said. “But it doesn’t play out that way. The whole point and gift of us being able to talk to each other is we get to vocalize and discuss things we do know deep down but haven’t voiced even to ourselves.”
“So you’re a deeper version of me?”
“I don’t know exactly, possibly, I suppose. But you’re just as deep in different ways. Think of me as the feeling, has time-to-mull-things-over, emotional Micah. A Micah outside the constraints of time.” The voice cleared his throat. “Here’s another way to think of me. I’m more the right brain and you’re more the left. Science tells us the right brain is incapable of putting feelings, thoughts, and intuition into words, but for the here and now, in this situation at least, I can. The right brain—me—talking to the left brain—you.”
For the first time, it made sense, and Micah realized why it was such a gift from God. Micah had allowed the left side of his brain to dominate his life for so long that the right side of his brain—the creative, feeling, intuitive side—had gone into semihibernation. Now, thanks to the power of the house, it had emerged and spoken to him in a way more influential than ever.
“Makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Absolutely.” Micah sat in the chair in the room for the first time. “I just wish I could take you around with me everywhere.”
“Are you kidding?” The voice laughed. “I am with you all the time. You just need to clean out your ears so you can hear me better. In here I speak in words, out there in impressions and feelings.”
“All right, I have my ears on now; I’m tuned in.”
“We’re locked and loaded,” the voice said.
Micah laughed and stood. “Just let me know if you figure out what this home is all about.”
“Don’t worry; that mystery is at the forefront of my brain as well.”
“Oh, can we talk about Sarah?” Micah said. “About the ‘praying for years’ comment?”
“Oh yes. At some point we will most definitely talk about Sarah. In detail. But not quite yet. Not quite yet.”
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Micah woke up Wednesday morning with one thought on his mind: