This is an excerpt from The Other Angel by Bridget Trafford. You can find more excerpts to download in the Downloads section of the website.
WHATIF...
“The world is full of Whatif isn’t it? I mean take me for instance. Whatif all this exploratory stuff is a complete waste of time? Whatif everything I’ve learned with you is a load of old cobblers? Whatif I really should be considering a lifetime with Steve and 2.4 children? Whatif-”
“What if! What if! What if!” shrieked Kevin. “What if you paid attention to what was happening here in all these different lives instead of skimming over the surface like a damned dragonfly and then going back to What-if-ing!”
“Harsh” said Sam “Nice! Which side of the hayloft did you fall out of this morning?”
“Well!”
“But what if-” began Sam again
“What if you just get Whatif by its little furry ears and dump it on its little furry arse in a corner some place and just forget about it!”
“It’s not easy being an intelligent human being you know” said Sam.
“It’s not easy being the proverbial guide and mentor to an intelligent human being!” said Kevin. “Right now in a choice between you and the man in the street woodlouse, I’m backing the woodlouse!”
“Unkind” said Sam. “I remember in Africa-”
“Shut, Shut, up, up!”
“But-”
“Those are commands!” Kevin shouted. “They start with a stressed syllable! Listen and learn!”
“I do have problems with whatifs” said Sam soberly.
“Yeah I know” said Kevin, comfortingly.
“Why is that d’you think? It’s a real pain!”
“Well it’s like this old girl. Your left brain would have you be a builder Sam – bricks, mortar – build them walls! Build them wall! – row on row – finish the job – step back- yes! – perfection! – but your right brain, your intuitive brain knows that would only end in being walled in, hemmed in and life becoming utterly meaningless. So your right brain is a planter, a sower of seeds, working a creative and spiritual plot that is always changing and is subject to the vagaries of storm and tempest. It requires constant attention and careful tending and it is a labour of love and exploration. An adventure. But it also requires patience because the seeds must have the time to establish themselves and grow. And herein lies the problem because-”
“Because my damned driver wants the project finished!” said Sam in exasperation.
“Yup!”
“Well Ratboy! What’s the answer?”
“Dunno”
“What! You always have an answer!”
“”Well in this case the answer is you and the you that you are makes the you that does more powerful because it’s been through the wringer both ways!”
”Fantastic!” said Sam. “Great! Straddled forever with a foot in both camps! Living forever in a personally constructed argument! Cheers mate! Make my day! Do I feel lucky punk!”
“Maybe not forever-”
*
CRASH
I could drive into the path of an oncoming truck. What truck? I’m driving home in the monster. My monster and me. It has quite a ring to it. Perhaps I should take it in holy wedlock. Plenty do. Anyway, what truck? It’s pitch black and raining monsoon bred cats and dogs and there’s so much water on the road The Monster and I could go surfing and there is apparently not another single sodden soul on the road. Whatever happened to crisp autumn days with golden red leaves and a touch of hoar frost? Maybe it never was like that. Maybe that was just The Romantics fervid imagination and somehow the collective consciousness of the time incorporated it into climatic conditions and so everyone looked nostalgically back on a time that never was. Well the collective consciousness now sees November as a synonym for rain. If it doesn’t ease off I’m going to have to pull over.
I’m trying very hard not to think. I managed it all afternoon. Well it’s easy at work isn’t it? That’s why we do it. Work I mean. And you thought it was to put bread on the table! Ha! To keep the wolf from the door? Ha! I’ll tell you why we work! Because it’s written into the programme and to keep the mind from the life numbing depths of its soul. That’s why. Take it from one who knows. There’s a lot of training goes into training sheep to be sheep. But it’s not working now. You see the driving bit occupies the left brain so it quits asking dumb questions but the intuitive brain leaps the fence, makes a bid for freedom and roams free…
It’s all confused anyway. Confused with memories of Rob and the mind sucking moment when I first knew of the crash…when I first knew that I would never see him again…not this side of the line…that first hour, before I became absorbed in self anguish, when I interned the impact of that knowing, absolutely, that within the next few minutes you are going to die…the dashboard of this machine has so many lights on it it looks more like a plane than a car…
It’s smaller than I had imagined. Everyone seems so calm. The plane is going to make a crash landing but the pilot and the co-pilot are talking about it like supermarket shopping. The co-pilot is going through to the passengers to tell them – to tell them what? That their lives are about to end? Is he really that calm or is it just his training uniform. A sheep by any other name? Or brave? I follow him through. The hostesses are standing about like spare parts. They know what’s coming. A hush descends, like the bit in the marriage ceremony where the vicar says does anyone know of any just cause or impediment why – Why? No, I don’t suppose they do. Someone coughs.
There are two guys sitting together about six rows back. Physically they are quite similar. They both have open briefcases and laptops. One is dark and one is fair. And I recognise them both. The co-pilot speaks calmly and firmly and this calm seems to envelop his audience like a blanket. Some are even nodding as if he’s just handed out the England cricket score and they’d all known what to expect.
The fair-haired man turns and looks at his companion. I can hear his voice quite clearly even though he is obviously speaking in a whisper.
“Jesus Pete we’re going to crash anyway!”
“Yeah. Oh well this presentation wasn’t shaping up too well as it happens.”
What does he mean anyway?
The two of them stare at each other. There’s humour as well as recognition in that look. Then the fair-haired one turns the colour of stale ash.
“Oh my God! Kate!”
So that’s what he actually said! Just like Rob! He’s about to meet his end, black hole or pearly gates or quick dash down a white tunnel into a black hole and out again and he’s worrying about me! Did he need to die for me to realize how good he was? How compassionate. Did I only see him clearly when I didn’t have him anymore? You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone –
His dark haired companion reaches out a hand. It has long, well shaped fingers. It closes over Rob’s wrist.
“Don’t worry about Kate, Rob. Kate will be OK. Honestly. Trust me.”
The fair-haired man looks down at the wrist being clamped by those strong fingers and then up into the dark eyes. His eyes are pools of doubt. He scrutinizes the other face then his body relaxes and he smiles.
Wait! Wait! Why are they going to crash? What’s happened to bring this on? They told me the plane was low on fuel and had to land and the landing went wrong because the pilot was trying to avoid a residential area. But why were they running low on fuel? I don’t know! Why didn’t I ask? It didn’t matter I suppose. It didn’t matter to me. I couldn’t have Rob back or the time we had together again so I didn’t care. But it might have mattered to the family of the pilot and the co-pilot. Their reputation was on the line. Can I go back a bit?
SEX IN THE SUBURBS
It was amazing how well she could remember it all especially as at the time she’d had some difficulty following the twists of his argument. It was as if over time it had all settled to a new level of understanding. When we walk, our understandings reveal themselves to us. Someone had said that to her once. Who was it? Kevin? It was usually Kevin. But no, not Kevin-
“Earth to Starship One, are you reading me? Come in please!” said Steve.
“What?”
“We were having a conversation” said Steve patiently. “At least I was. Then you got one of those blank looks. I’ve counted the teddy bears – twice and checked out your new CDs. Shall I go and make a coffee?”
“What were we talking about?”
“Well you were about to tell me why I should ask myself why and before that-”
“- you were asking me about something-”
“Yeah. You know. The physical thing-”
“You mean the sex?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. It was good.”
“It was?”
The boy was genuinely surprised thought Sam. Well there had been those few moments while he’d struggled with the rubber thing which seemed to have a life all of its own. He’d lost control of it at one point and it had ricocheted across the floor. Sam had gone in search to allow Steve a couple of minutes to cool his embarrassment and fuel his ardor. That hadn’t taken long and they were back on track. Apart from that he’d been very – tactile-
“Yeah. I’m impressed. I didn’t know you’d got in that much practice. Ballast breasts was it?” It just slipped out. She wasn’t really jealous.
The tips of Steve’s ears turned ever so slightly pink as a small and guilty sun tried to climb over his mental horizon. He pushed it back down.
“I feel somehow” he said with difficulty “that there’s a bit of a role reversal going on here. I’m sure that should be my line.”
“Oh come on macho man – what’s a bit of role reversal between friends?”
“Is that what we are then?”
“What?”
“Friends.”
“Well aren’t we?”
“Even after-”
Sam raised an eyebrow.
“I guess so. But that’s all?”
Sam looked him straight in the eyes and said firmly
“Yes. For now. But who knows -”
“Well I sure as hell don’t!” muttered Steve. Then he said
“Are you one of those rockets, bells and poetry types then?”
“Are you one of those – it just started quietly and grew – types?”
“Actually – actually -” he stopped. “I don’t know.”
“Nor do I. Great isn’t it!”
“Yeah, great” said Steve.
He had a choice. He’d always had a choice. She wanted him to be close, dedicated even but she wanted to be free. And against all the advice and all the statistical improbabilities he’d opted to hang in. she was weird and demanding and she looked bloody amazing in a white Tshirt and knickers- I bet it wasn’t the apple that did it for Adam – I bet it was the bloody Tshirt and knickers-
He took a deep breath and then rallied.
“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you for decades.”
“No where special.”
“What have you been doing?”
“Nothing much.”
“I thought I might- we might – have gone a bit too far-”
“You are the master of the understatement Stephen!”
“So you’re not – upset- or anything?” He sounded anxious.
“Upset? Why would I be upset?”
“Well – you know – you’re a girl-”
“Well observed.”
“And it’s different for girls-”
“Really? Are we breaking out in song here?”
Steve gave up and then, because you can’t keep a good man down, tried again.
“You’re not still -”
“No Steve I’m not still anything. I don’t do still.”
“No. So what’s new?”
SALMONHOOD AND THE ROAD MAP
Sam and Kevin discussing salmonhood and the road map of life’s journey after her latest explorations beyond the body
“You know Sam” he said wisely, “what ever you think about what’s happening, the way it’s happening, the pace it’s happening, it’s absolutely spot on. Life is a process. Your world is so full of must haves and has to bes. Your spirit is swimming upstream with all the flotsam and jetsam of life coming at it. It goes under. It surfaces. Something else clobbers it and it goes under again. But it’s a strong swimmer. Don’t worry about it drowning ‘cos it never will. It has to learn to pace itself. Sometimes it has to dodge the really strong currents. Sometimes it has to swim underwater. Sometimes it has to rest in the shallows to catch its breath. But like the salmon, it was born for this. And it will get there. Growing into You is your salmonhood. From that standpoint you can spawn your gifts. The pace it happens is the right pace for you. The person in charge is the best for the job. You.”
Sam had been listening intently.
“What about God?” she said, unsure.
“That courageous, seeking spirit is the part of you that shares a oneness with every living thing. Together they make a universal oneness, wholeness.”
“Could that be God?” said Sam.
“Dunno” said Kevin. “Works for me.”
He watched her face for a while and then tried a different tack.
“Do you remember all that stuff from the Jennie jaunt” said Kevin.
“Yes I think so” said Sam, not at all sure.
“Do you remember The Challenges?”
“You mean all those goddamn storms and mountains and rivers – Oh-”
Then she understood.
“That’s life isn’t it? Obstacles blocking your way forward that seem like mountains- things you can’t possibly get over or round. And storms – life howling a gale and throwing all the loose crap at you. And rivers – Oh God – I nearly drowned in one of them!”
“More than one I seem to remember. And the dry river bed, the ravine, that suddenly filled up with water- are we getting a message here?”
“Yes” said Sam with a shudder. “I’m not sure I like the implications of that.”
”No” said Kevin. “You prefer to keep yourself secure – in some ways – don’t you?”
Sam opened her mouth to refute this last comment and then closed it again. It was true.
“But what you’ve got to remember” Kevin went on “is two very important things.”
“Yeah?”
“One – when you relaxed and went with the flow you flew over all the obstacles – the mountains, through the mountain side actually- the storms and the water – we all did actually – d’you remember the sheer rock face? remember the crack that widened?-”
“Do I remember!” said Sam with another shudder, remembering.
And then, with no warning, up ahead, out of the mist, loomed a shear wall of rock. With no time to alter course (even if she could have) Sam put out her hands before her in an instinctive, but totally inappropriate attempt to save herself, and shut her eyes tight, bracing herself for the impact.
“I remember. And what’s the other thing?”
“That you actually got through it all. The mountains, the storms, the water- all that water – and through the faceless warriors – into the citadel – under the archway of lives- even past the Dark Knight himself- I am nothing. I do not exist. See, I have no form. Remember? – To the light-”
“Yes” said Sam. “I see.”
“Do you?”
“Yes” said Sam again. “The difficulty is remembering that I see. The difficulty is remembering what I already know. That first one-It wasn’t just a fairy story was it? It was a road map!”
“Give Polly a peanut!” said Kevin.
DOPPELGANGER-DUM
“How were you brought up Sam?”
Sam thought about it.
“Well – fairly honestly I suppose. Mum didn’t do the schoolteacher bit. You know, talking to you as if everything was earning some kind of brownie points in an attempt to encourage you to do more. Marks out of ten; over the top but with no honest depth to it. All moral high ground so you end up loud and insecure cos no one’s ever given you a bit of honest grief.”
“Ouch” said Kevin.
“Yeah. Well. You know the type. I hate pushy kids who go on about their rights and the right way to do things. She didn’t do that kind of stuff. Too much going on I suppose. When I was young. But if I asked her about something she was honest. She didn’t bullshit me. I think I probably embarrassed her sometimes. I was left to my own devices a lot of the time but that was OK. Folks were cruel sometimes but I managed. And then I got you”
She regarded him steadily.
“Mixed blessing of course”
“Through Jennie remember” said Kevin, ignoring the insult. “Your doppelganger”
“My what?”
“Double. The word comes from a folk belief which says that you see your double and you die.”
“I didn’t.”
“No. See it more in terms of shadow. Your shadow side. The part that’s often under the surface and comes to the fore in dreams.”
Sam looked bemused.
“The shadow” mused Kevin. “You’ve been working with the shadow ever since we met. I think it was your decision to work with the shadow that called me in. Do you ever think about that early exploration and Jenny doppelganger and what it all meant?”
“Jenny what? Oh- that word again” said Sam “are you saying Jennie was a shadow?”
That which is invisible thought Kevin. Oh well, nothing lasts forever. Here goes.
He said “If it becomes visible in a dream a very important step forward in increasing awareness has been taken. Becoming consciously aware of the dark side, becoming aware of the whole self. The shadow is usually connected to the past or the future – old injuries are casting their shadow onto the present and onto present emotions and behaviour and creating fear for the future. Coming to terms with the shadow is necessary to understand the here and now. It brings intensity, wealth and imagination in to life. The shadow follows us but is not easily seen. It provides protection.” He paused watching Sam. She was looking away from him, into the distance but, unusually, he could not see what she saw.
He went on “It is one of the enigmatic definitions of the soul. Some believe that Midday is the ghost hour because the shadow is at its smallest and in retreat. They believe that if the shadow disappears altogether it would take the soul with it and its relationship to the earth.”
This time the look on her face stopped him mid flow.
“Sam?”
The voice in her head was screaming. Where is my shadow it screamed I have no shadow!
The room had disappeared. In its place was a wide, level space, featureless. There was a circle of figures in silhouette. Each seemed to have a particular quality as if each one represented a characteristic of which I am aware thought Sam, those relatively close to the surface, parts of my ego fairly close to the consciousness. My circle.
And beyond the circle another circle. In the shadow – the darker side
In conjunction they can make a balanced whole of me…
But the light is too bright and there is no shadow!
The voice in her head was screaming. Where is my shadow it screamed. I have no shadow!
*
“Carry on” said Sam.
“Are you sure?” said Kevin.
Some peanut butter and chocolate spread toast had been enlisted to marshal flagging energy and flailing spirits. After all, even warriors of light march on their stomachs.
“Absolutely” said Sam emphatically.
“When you’re young, the doppelganger, the shadow, is a close match” said Kevin.
“Why is that?” said Sam.
“Because usually with a young pre teen human there is less subterfuge and they haven’t yet learned or been forced into guile of any kind. What you see is what you get. But as it gets older, and the age at which this happens is subjective to situation, experiences teach it things. Certain responses or reactions bring pain or pleasure. Aspects get masked or forced to the fore. Certain aspects of the personality are subjugated, by others, by necessity, by intent. Society, peer groups, a parent or a sibling demands a response and the personality moulds itself to get the pay off it desires.”
“How sad” said Sam.
“Meeting with your shadow side is a very healthy occupation and when the shadow has become a double then it retires because those aspects have been accepted by the consciousness and a new shadow comes to the fore. I think that’s where the death bit comes in.”
“The death bit?” said Sam.
“You know- the folklore belief- see your double and you die- I think it’s referring to ego death and rebirth- moving on.”
“That’s a relief then” said Sam, not really relieved and thinking about how many doubles she’d experienced in a variety of forms over her relatively few years and how many more there were to come and what would happen if…
“And the new one isn’t a double?” she said.
“Not to start with, no. but if acceptance grows they too become doubles and are absorbed. It’s a good way of telling where you are on your own transformation path – by looking at your shadow.”
“So it’s not insanity?” said Sam.
“Oh no” said Kevin. “Quite the reverse”
“Am I going to look at you one day and see me?”
“You’re a long way off being as enlightened as me!” said Kevin.
“But will I?” persisted Sam.
“One day you’ll just look into the mirror and see you”
“And you’ll be gone?” said Sam.
“Here we go again! No, I’ll be there – looking right back at you!”
”You mean I’ll have grown whiskers?”
“I mean you’ll have grown whole.”
BAT OUT OF HELL
“You know charity day-”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“What about if we do Bat out of Hell?”
“Excuse me?”
”You play and we both sing.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sing! Play! C’mon Steve – get it in gear!”
“Sam! I thought you were a recluse!”
“I have multiple alternate personalities! You know that!”
“To my cost” said Steve. “You mean in front of everybody?”
“No. In the toilet! Yeah. Of course. We’ll charge a quid entry. They’ll come just for a laugh.”
“Too bloody true they will! I don’t think I can.”
“Sure you can. You know what you’re like when you get playing. You lose yourself.”
“I know I’ll want to” said Steve. “Does it have to be Bat out of Hell? Couldn’t we do something a bit more downbeat?”
“No. We need Lots of noise to drown the singing. And black leather. You’ve been desperate for a chance to give that new electric guitar a run.”
“Steve gawped.
“You’re serious aren’t you? I don’t have black leather.”
“Yes you do.”
“Only a jacket.”
“That’s fine. With skinny jeans.”
“I don’t have skinny jeans.”
“You can borrow a pair of mine.”
Steve said slowly
“I think I’m losing the will to live. I know I’ll die if they laugh.”
“Believe me Steve you’ll look too good in skinny jeans for anyone to laugh. They might do something but it sure as hell won’t involve laughing” She paused. Steve looked anxious.
“Some of the girls might want to get to know you more intimately.”
Steve looked terrified.
“It’s not the girls I’m worried about” he said soberly. “Can I get pissed first?”
“No. after – but only if it’s a flop – and possibly sex if it’s not-”
“With you?”
“No. With Paddington Bear! Yes of course with me! Unless you get a better offer!”
“Does possibly mean definitely?”
“Definitely not. Possibly means percentage chance.”
“What percentage?”
Mathematicians are all alike.
“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” said Steve, playing for time.
Sam put two mugs of coffee on the floor and took off her jacket.
“Oh yeah” said Steve weakly. “I remember.”
They climbed up onto the stage, Sam first, Steve following, like a reluctant lamb who’s been told by its mother, follow you little hairball or it’ll be the last milkshake you’ll ever get!
Poor Steve! Sam had long ago developed her own private method for dealing with such situations. She was practiced in the art of mind blanking. She used the technique before any kind of test or exam and when others were twittering outside the examination room, predicting possible questions and impossible odds or rabidly trying to absorb last minute data she just stood there with a rapt if vacant expression on her face and a comfortably blank mind. It had taken a lot of practice but she’d had some good early schooling. She used it in any situation where she was required to have a public face. Kevin would have called it becoming one of the fragments.
Now she strode onto the dais and adjusted the microphone like she’d been doing it all her life. So what if she made a complete arse of herself? She was damn well going to have fun doing it!
She glanced at Steve. He looked like he’d been preserved. What if he couldn’t get his fingers to work?
“Hi there tossers!” she yelled into the microphone. “Steve and I” she moved closer to Steve and leaned against him. He looked like a sleep walker who’d just been prodded in the ribs- “Steve and I are going to give you a rare musical treat! Aren’t we Steve?”
Steve was doing a very good impression of a Buckingham Palace guard.
“You all know Steve – modest to a fault but a great guy though!”
There was some enthusiastic agreement from three girls in the front row. Steve looked terrified.
“C’mon man!” Sam hissed at him. “Fingers- strings – play!”
She nudged him hard.
He blinked. He looked at Sam as if seeing her, and where they were for the first time. Then he looked down at the guitar he was holding in his hands and he began to tune it.
“Let us entertain you!” yelled Sam.
Then he started to play
Later. Sam’s place. 1 a.m. Parents absent.
“That went pretty well – huh?” said Steve.
“I did say!”
“I think it was the Voodoo Child encore that topped it.”
“Yeah. All the Dr Who fans stomping.”
“Someone threw their knickers at me.”
“”Really?” I did say! What are they like?”
“Black and white with a -“
“Lets see! Wow! Some hint! D’you know who it was?”
“Fortunately not” said Steve.
“Shame. How much did we make?”
”About four hundred quid.”
“Cool! We should go professional!”
“No chance! I can’t wear jeans that tight more than once a decade. My manhood is at risk!”
“What manhood?”
”This.”
These excerpts are from The Other Angel- Book Four of The Circular Scrolls
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