Rooms - James L. Rubart [93]
“And this has been going on—?”
“For three months.” Micah stopped and looked Sarah in the eye. “And it’s accelerating.”
“Accelerating?”
“It’s happening more often.” Micah walked toward the beach.
“Want to talk about it?”
Micah shook his head and stopped again. “Yes. I’m going to take a huge risk here and tell you in detail the things that have been happening, okay?”
Sarah nodded.
“Remember the other night when you asked me what was going on with my spiritual journey? How I was doing? Well, if your ears are still standing by, I’m ready to give you War and Peace.”
“Why a huge risk?”
“Because when I’m done, you’ll either think God is at work in a rather strange, beautiful, and incredible way, or I’m long overdue for a visit to the funniest of farms.”
Sarah touched his forearm. “I already know God is constantly working in strange and incredible ways, so you’ll have to make your story really weird to make me think you’re going insane.”
“This one might do it. You realize you’ve officially abdicated your right to come back to me when I’m finished and tell me I’m crazy.”
“Agreed. Now please begin, Weaver of Fantastic Tales.”
When they reached the beach, they sat on a mound of sand, and Micah told Sarah everything: from the day Archie’s letter arrived at RimSoft to the present. He described the memory room, shrine room, skydiving room, the painting, the movie room, the Wildcat room, even the brilliant room he couldn’t enter.
He told her about the Inc. cover vanishing, about not playing racquetball with Brad, and about not meeting a man named Rafi at a party. About how Julie vanished from his history, about finding the Coast Life magazine cover with his name on it, and how his ankle went from perfect to injured in an instant.
He talked about running into an old girlfriend, the fall of his company’s stock, going from owning his condo’s penthouse to living on the eighth floor, and how his car had gained a year of miles in a day.
When he finished, Micah kicked sand toward the ocean. “Do you think I’m insane?”
“I think God is in all of it. But I wonder if you feel the same.”
“Of course I think He’s in it. Why?”
“I know you believe it intellectually. But do you believe it in your heart?”
Micah didn’t answer.
“Surrendering to the Lord is winner take all. Ninety-nine percent isn’t enough. It’s all or nothing.”
“Your point?”
“That when I hear you talk about the things you’ve lost, like the stock, your condo, your car gaining sixteen thousand miles overnight, you talk like you’ve lost your best friend.”
“Well, of course I don’t like it.” Micah snorted and ran his hands through the sand. “Tell me one person who would. My life is a tornado, and I’m nowhere near the eye of the storm. I’m in the heart of two-hundred-mile-per-hour winds. I’ve lost specific events in my life I know have happened and gained others I know didn’t happen.”
“But those things did happen, Micah.”
“What do you mean?”
“How can you deny the physical existence of something like your ankle? Or the magazine cover?”
“I can’t.”
“So is it real? This other life?”
“I don’t know.” Micah rubbed his eyes and sighed.
“I’m going to really weird you out now.” Sarah sat forward and took his hands in hers. “But it might help you accept that this other life you’re getting bits and pieces of is real.”
“All right.”
“I remember you talking about it.”
“About what?”
“Your ankle. The original injury. How it happened.”
“Where was I during this supposed conversation?” Micah stared at her.
“We talked about it a month ago. You told me you messed up your ankle by landing hard on another guy’s foot playing touch football about six years ago. That’s why I noticed the slight limp and wasn’t surprised when you asked for the name of a good doctor in town.”
Micah smacked the sand with the back of his hand. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. As bizarre as my life has been the past four and a half months, don’t you think a sprinkle of terror is warranted?”
“I’ll admit it’s unusual.”
Micah stared at her in