1.7 When It All Comes Down

I gave Vikom some time to collect his thoughts before I stepped out on the beach, where he was sitting, close enough so I could see him and reasonably infer he might not mind if I joined him there, sitting on the beach.

By the time I got there he had – presumably – finished the sandwich.

Technically, residents of … all the worlds, all the “real worlds” don’t need to eat. There is no starvation here. I don’t tell him that, of course. I debate asking him – you know, about the sandwich. And decide against.

He was still new to this world, which was new to him, and he was having trouble adjusting and I didn’t want to mess with that by asking questions about the usual process of adjustment and how he was coming along.

These and a hundred other ways I can hardly wait for this insanity that is open rebellion against God – which I know, right? I can’t wait for this … whatever this is to be truly over and done.

“Okay,” I said to Vikom, sitting down. “If you could have one thing, right here, right now. If you could have anything you wanted, but just one thing, what would it be?”

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. “I’m not playing this game with you,” he said.

“No games. I promise.” I pointed at the sign over my head, well, in the general direction. “Not even necessarily hypothetical.”

“No wishing for more wishes?” he asked, turning to me.

I hold up my index finger. “One wish.”

“And you would definitely say yes?”

I set both my hands down at my sides, fingers crunching through the sand. Not far away, we could hear music and people talking, but here all was quiet and still.

“Can I tell you a funny story, Vikom?” I asked.

He shrugged, in a “can I stop you?” kind of a way. It wasn’t exactly a no.

“Once upon a time, not long ago, I spent time more or less exactly where you are. Wanting only one thing.”

“What was that?”

“What is that?” I asked. “I still haven’t gotten it yet, and I generally gravitate to people who are going to help me get it.”

Now, I had his interest. He turned to me, honestly curious. “What is it?”

“To end this present separation between heaven and earth.”

Just like that, Vikom sat up and turned to face me, eyes gleaming in the scant light.

Tears welled up in mine, as well. Then, I was distracted. I let myself be distracted.

“Hey, where is Erin?” I asked.

“Your cat? How would I know where your cat is?” He smiled at me and for a second … it felt like he might get the joke. For a second he reminded me of … Jesus, of the one guy I most wanted – and want – to meet face to face, too. Because it feels like … way too long.

“Erin isn’t really my cat. She’s a bit of an in-joke with an old friend, when I was feeling really down. Someone or something that was … even more lost than me and then I got to help her and that made me feel … not entirely useless. Anyway, I’m here to talk about you not me. Back on topic. If you could have just one thing, anything. If you could ask God for just one thing….”

He shook his head, but I could tell he was thinking of something, that he didn’t even dare to ask for the thing.

“That right there,” I said. “All of the thoughts, all of the wants. It’s great. But it’s not a direction. It’s not a purpose. It’s not your purpose.”

“If I could have just one thing from someone who … can’t have the one thing she wants right now,” Vikom said. “Any one thing, put into a single sentence with that kind of conviction. That kind of conviction.”

I nodded.

“I want to see Susan again.”

“Why Susan?” I asked. “Why is that one notion so stuck in  your head?”

He shook his head. “I have this feeling like … if I could just do this, then everything would be fixed.”

“Everything meaning your own life or hers or … literally everything?”

“Everything.”

I nodded, slowly, running my fingers slowly through my hair while I did so, feeling the delicate, individual nature of each strand, how they do and do not work together. It’s something I do when I am thinking sometimes. Don’t mind me.

“Okay,” I said. “That’s your purpose then. What if … she is not redeemed, meaning she is not around because she is in hell or what if she is redeemed but she wants nothing to do with you. Would you accept sure knowledge of either of those alternatives in exchange for meeting her? Would you accept closure instead?”

“Yes,” he said. “Absolutely.”

I nodded slowly, again. “Okay Vikom. She is already on Xaranya then and has been for a few years, having arrived in a different starter village.”

“What?” Vikom asked.

“Have you ever heard of The Mandela Effect?” I asked him.

“No. What?” He shook his head. “Wait, she’s here? But how?”

“The Mandela Effect is this multiverse thing where some people remember certain events – like the death of a famous person, generally the timing of it, not the fact of it, or the spelling of a word differently.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, deciding to let me ramble instead of answering his question – not knowing I was answering his question, sort of, the best I could.

“It’s kind of like that, but not like that. Just shifting the furniture around. A little bit. Anyway. I’ll give you her public contact information, and you two can work out the rest on your own.”

“When did … she die?” he asked.

“Maybe she didn’t. Maybe my wish was granted first.” I shrugged. “You’ll have to talk to her in order to find out. If she chooses to do so. Whatever you may have heard, I do not write the script of anyone else’s life.” I paused for a moment to think about this. “Okay, so I write a lot of scripts in my head, as many people do. But they aren’t real. They do not – in fact – define you. Nor should they.” I thought about what I had just said, for a while, and I am thinking about it right now in fact and …  yeah, pretty much.

Pretty much. Heaven help me. Heaven help all of us.

I gave Vikom her contact information, as she had given(?) will already give(?) permission for me to do, when he was ready, when he will be ready. Ugh.

Time travel and verb tenses is so annoying. I wouldn’t recommend it, except at the utter point of need. Or – you know – for the fun of it. If you don’t mind the weird verb tenses.

Whichever. Whatever. Let’s do this thing.

*Actual Author’s Note: I drafted this story for NanoWriMo 2025, which was a weird time for me – and for a lot of other writers as the organization which had formerly helmed it had to shutter its doors for … let us say, various reasons. Lots of scandal if you’re into that kind of thing. By the time I found this out, I had already scheduled vacation time (and had a great vacation by the way) for possibly the worst possible time for *other* unexpected life issues (which turned out – among other things – to include life-threatening cancer), but gosh darn it, I had a hotel room booked down by the beach and I was going to write a cozy fantasy. Oh yes, so I keep trying and failing to write cozy fantasies. Part of me – honestly – hopes if I can get Vikom’s story out of the way – and all that comes with it – I can finally settle down and write a ridiculously, heartwarmingly cozy fantasy set in Xaranya with a main character who is 100% happy with the world as it is and all their issues are minor ones.

Because haha – sure…. That’s ever going to happen. Darn it.

I also keep wanting to write cozy stories where God is part of the story, where God is one of us, and I mean really. Where God is both transcendent – in a sense – but for all intents and purposes really there in the Mundane. If I could just pull that off, I could die happy. (Or perhaps live happy with a small side income from selling the story. Happy thoughts.)

Anyway … Vikom’s story stands out to me for reasons, and I’ll be getting back to it, but first he/the story has a bit of a Susan/unfinished business detour. In the first draft, it took him a bit longer to get there but eventually I have confidence he will get there.

Some background music: