Dark Matter (32 page)

“This other Jason looked at me like that, and there was this new energy between us. Kind of like how it feels when you come home after a weekend at one of your conferences, but way more intense.”

I ask, “So with him, it must've been like the first time we were together?”

She doesn't answer right away.

Just breathes for a while.

Then says finally, “I'm so sorry.”

“It's not your fault.”

“After a couple weeks, it hit me that this wasn't a one-night, or even one-weekend, kind of thing. I realized that something in you had changed.”

“What was different?”

“A million little things. The way you dressed. The way you got ready in the morning. The things you talked about at dinner.”

“The way I fucked you?”

“Jason.”

“Please don't lie to me. That, I can't take.”

“Yes. It was different.”

“Better.”

“Like it was the first time again. You did things you never did. Or hadn't in a long time. It was like I was something, not that you wanted, but that you needed. Like I was your oxygen.”

“Do you want this other Jason?”

“No. I want the man I've made a life with. The man I made Charlie with. But I need to know you're that man.”

I sit up and look at her in this cramped, windowless bathroom in the middle of nowhere that smells faintly of mildew.

She looks at me.

So tired.

Struggling onto my feet, I give her a hand up.

We move into the bedroom.

Daniela climbs into bed, and I hit the lights and crawl in beside her under the freezing sheets.

The frame is creaky, and the slightest movement bangs the headboard against the wall, which rattles the picture frames.

She's wearing underwear and a white T-shirt, and she smells like she's been riding in the car all day without a shower—fading deodorant tinged with funk.

I love it.

She whispers in the dark, “How do we fix this, Jason?”

“I'm working on it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means ask me again in the morning.”

Her breath in my face is sweet and warm.

The essence of everything I associate with home.

She's asleep within a moment, breathing deeply in and out.

I think I'm right behind her, but when I close my eyes, my thoughts run rampant. I see versions of me stepping out of elevators. In parked cars. Sitting on the bench across the street from our brownstone.

I see me everywhere.

The room is dark except for the coils of the space heater glowing in the corner.

The house lies silent.

I can't sleep.

I need to fix this.

Quietly, I slide out from under the covers. At the door, I stop and glance back at Daniela, safe under a mountain of blankets.

I head down the noisy hardwood floor of the hallway, the house getting warmer the closer I get to the living room.

The fire is already low.

I add several logs.

For a long time, I sit just staring into the flames, watching the wood slowly crumble into the radiant bed of embers as my son snores softly behind me.

The idea first occurred to me on the drive north today, and I've been mulling it over ever since.

It seemed insane at first.

But the more I pressure-check it, the more it seems like my only option.

In the living room beside the entertainment center, there's a desk with a ten-year-old Mac and a dinosaur printer. I power the computer on. If there's a password required or no Internet connection, this will have to wait until tomorrow, when I can find an Internet café or coffee shop in town.

I'm in luck. There's a guest login option.

I open the web browser and access that
asonjayessenday
email account.

The hyperlink still works.

Welcome to UberChat!

There are currently seventy-two active participants.

Are you a new user?

I click
No
and log in with my username and password.

Welcome back Jason9!

Logging you into UberChat now!

The conversation is much longer, with so many participants I break out in a cold sweat.

I scan everything, down through the most recent message, which is less than a minute old.

Jason42: The house has been empty since at least midafternoon.

Jason28: So which of you did this?

Jason4: I followed Daniela from 44 Eleanor St. to the police station on North California.

Jason14: What was she doing there?

Jason25: What was she doing there?

Jason10: What was she doing there?

Jason4: No idea. She went inside, never came out. Her Honda is still there.

Jason66: Does this mean she knows? Is she still in the police station?

Jason4: I don't know. Something is up.

Jason49: I was nearly killed last night by one of us. He got a key to my hotel room and came in with a knife in the middle of the night.

I start typing…

Jason9: DANIELA AND CHARLIE ARE WITH ME.

Jason92: Safe?

Jason42: Safe?

Jason14: How?

Jason28: Prove it.

Jason4: Safe?

Jason25: How?

Jason10: You fucker.

Jason9: How doesn't matter, but yes, they're safe. They're also very scared. I've been giving this a lot of thought. I assume we all share the same basic desire, that no matter what, Daniela and Charlie can't be harmed?

Jason92: Yes.

Jason49: Yes.

Jason66: Yes.

Jason10: Yes.

Jason25: Yes.

Jason4: Yes.

Jason28: Yes.

Jason14: Yes.

Jason103: Yes.

Jason5: Yes.

Jason16: Yes.

Jason82: Yes.

Jason9: I would rather die than see anything happen to them. So here's what I'm proposing. Two days from now, at midnight, we all meet up at the power plant and conduct a peaceful lottery. The winner gets to live in this world with Daniela and Charlie. Also, we destroy the box, so no other Jasons find their way here.

Jason8: No.

Jason100: No way.

Jason21: How would this work?

Jason38: Never.

Jason28: Prove you have them or fuck off.

Jason8: Why chance? Why not fight it out? Let merit decide.

Jason109: And what happens to the losers? Suicide?

JasonADMIN: For the sake of this conversation
not
becoming incomprehensible, I've temporarily frozen all accounts from participating except me and Jason9. Everyone else can still watch this conversation. Jason9, continue please.

Jason9: I realize there are many ways this could all go wrong. I could decide to not show up. You'd never know. Any number of Jasons could choose not to participate, to essentially wait in the wings for the smoke to clear and then do to one of us what Jason2 did. Except that I know I'll keep my word, and maybe this is naïve on my part, but I think that means all of you will too. Because you wouldn't be keeping your word for us. You'd be keeping it for Daniela and Charlie. The other alternative is for me to take them and disappear forever. New identities. A life always on the run. Always looking over our shoulder. As much as I want to be with them, I don't want that life for my wife and son. And I don't have the right to keep them for myself. I feel so strongly about it, I'm willing to submit myself to this lottery, where, judging by the sheer number of us involved, I'm almost certain to lose. I have to talk to Daniela first, but in the meantime, spread the word. I'll be back online tomorrow night with more details, including proof, jason28.

JasonADMIN: I think someone already asked, but what happens to the losers?

Jason9: I don't know yet. All that matters is our wife and son living out the rest of their lives in peace and safety. If you feel otherwise, you don't deserve them.

Light coming through the curtain wakes me.

Daniela is in my arms.

For the longest time, I just lie there.

Holding her.

This extraordinary woman.

After a while, I disentangle myself and grab my pile of clothes off the floor.

I dress by the remains of the fire—nothing but a bed of coals—and throw on the last two logs.

We've slept in.

The clock on the stove reads 9:30, and through the window above the sink, I see sunlight angling down through the evergreens and birches, making pools of light and shadow across the floor of the forest as far as I can see.

I head outside into the morning chill and step down off the porch.

Past the back of the cabin, the property slopes gently to the edge of a lake.

I walk out to the end of a snowcapped pier.

There's a rim of ice a few feet out from the shore, but it's too early in the season, even with the recent storm, for the rest of the lake to have frozen.

I brush the snow off a bench, take a seat, and watch the sun creep up behind the pine trees.

The cold is invigorating. Like an espresso shot.

Mist rises from the surface of the water.

I register footsteps squeaking in the snow behind me.

Turning, I see Daniela coming down the pier, following in my footprints.

She's carrying two steaming mugs of coffee, her hair is a gorgeous wreck, and she has several blankets thrown around her shoulders like a shawl.

As I watch her approach, it occurs to me that in all likelihood, this is the last morning I'll ever get to spend with her. I'll be returning to Chicago first thing tomorrow. Alone.

Handing me both mugs, she takes one of her blankets and wraps it around me. Then she sits on the bench and we drink our coffees and stare out across the lake.

I say, “I always thought we'd end up in a place like this.”

“I didn't know you wanted to move to Wisconsin.”

“When we're older. Find a cabin to fix up.”

“
Can
you fix things up?” She laughs. “I'm kidding. I know what you mean.”

“Maybe spend summers here with the grandchildren. You could paint by the lakeshore.”

“What would you do?”

“I don't know. Finally catch up on my
New Yorker
subscription. Just be with you.”

She reaches down and touches the piece of thread that's still tied around my ring finger. “What's this?”

“Jason2 took my wedding ring, and there was a point early on where I was beginning to lose my grasp on what was real. On who I was. If I'd ever been married to you. So I tied this string around my finger as a reminder that you,
this
version of you, existed.”

She kisses me.

For a long time.

I say, “I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

“In that first Chicago I woke up in—the one where I found you at this art installation about the multiverse—”

“What?” She smiles. “Did you fuck me?”

“Yeah.”

The smile dies.

She just stares at me for a moment, and there's almost no emotion in her voice when she asks, “Why?”

“I didn't know where I was or what was happening to me. Everyone thought I was crazy. I was starting to think so too. Then I found you—the only familiar thing in a world that was completely wrong. I wanted so badly for that Daniela to be you, but she wasn't. She couldn't be. Just like the other Jason isn't me.”

“So you were just fucking your way across the multiverse then?”

“That was the only time, and I didn't realize where I was when it happened. I didn't know if I was losing my mind or what.”

“And how was she? How was I?”

“Maybe we shouldn't—”

“I told you.”

“Fair enough. It was just the way you described this other Jason coming home that first night. It was like being with you before I knew I loved you. Like experiencing that incredible connection all over again for the first time. What are you thinking right now?”

“I'm figuring out how mad I should be at you.”

“Why should you be mad at all?”

“Oh, is that your argument? It isn't cheating if it's another version of me?”

“I mean, it's original at least.”

This makes her laugh.

That it makes her laugh says everything about why I love her.

“What was she like?” Daniela asks.

“She was you without me. Without Charlie. She was sort of dating Ryan Holder.”

“Shut up. And I was this successful artist?”

“You were.”

“Did you like my installation?”

“It was brilliant. You were brilliant. Do you want to hear about it?”

“I'd love to.”

I tell her about the Plexiglas labyrinth, what it felt like to walk through it. The startling imagery. The spectacular design.

It makes her eyes light up.

And it makes her sad.

“Do you think I was happy?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“With everything I'd given up to be this woman.”

“I don't know. I was with this woman for forty-eight hours. I think, like you, like me, like everyone, she had regrets. I think sometimes she woke up in the night wondering if the path she took was the right one. Afraid it wasn't. Wondering what a life with me might have been like.”

“I wonder those things sometimes.”

“I've seen so many versions of you. With me. Without me. Artist. Teacher. Graphic designer. But it's all, in the end, just life. We see it macro, like one big story, but when you're in it, it's all just day-to-day, right? And isn't that what you have to make your peace with?”

Out in the middle of the lake, a fish jumps, its splash sending perfect, concentric ripples across the glasslike water.

I say, “Last night, you asked me how we fix this.”

“Any bright ideas?”

My first instinct is to protect her from the knowledge of what I'm contemplating, but our marriage isn't built on keeping secrets. We talk about everything. The hardest things. It's embedded in our identity as a couple.