-Chapter 4: The World Without Twilight-
"Twilight is the time between dawn and sunrise or between sunset and dusk, during which sunlight scattering in the upper atmosphere illuminates the lower atmosphere, and the surface of the earth is neither completely lit nor completely dark." Matt read the Wikipedia description aloud as we scanned the page on his blocky laptop. "I'm just not seeing anything about a book here."
This was just…insane. Somehow, when Brian and I crashed the Jeep I was disembodied and seemingly sent to a different reality – one where I don't exist, and neither does the Twilight book series. I thought, maybe, it was a fluke or a malfunction of both Matt's TV and computer. But no. IMDb had no information on any of the movies, Stephenie Meyer's website didn't exist, and the top searches for 'twilight' on Google were explanations of the actual time of day or other products with the word 'twilight' in it. I honestly did not think I'd see the day where I could search for 'twilight' and have The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess as search result number three.
At this point I was ready to ask what color the sky was, because this was not the world I grew up in, even if it looked like it.
My frustration and helplessness flowed through me and into Matt, who slouched deeper in his leather chair as he received my tormented emotions.
"Look, maybe you imagined the book," Matt tried to reason with me. "You said you were in an accident…maybe this book was never real?" The last part sounded more like a question, and I mentally snorted.
It was as big – if not bigger – than Harry Potter. Oh shit, does that book even exist here?
"Harry Potter? With the wizards and stuff?" Matt coughed into his hand and navigated his browser back to the Google homepage.
Yes. They made movies about the books. I don't think I could have dreamed this stuff up. Besides, it's not any crazier than having someone living in your brain, is it?
"No, I suppose not," Matt grumbled under his breath.
The rest of the day went by in a blur of television and conversation with my new roommate. Matt spent a few hours watching some of the Supernatural episodes that had changed with the absence of Twilight and I spent the remaining hours of the day explaining to him the basic plotline of the Twilight saga. It was a weight off my shoulders that he actually believed me, now. It was remarkable how well he adapted to sharing his body with a stranger, though he told me he thought it was kind of exciting – and on some level I agreed, it's not every day you become a body snatcher.
Matt dumped his dirty dishes in the sink and wiped his mouth on his paper towel, tossing it in the garbage can, and shuffled back to his bathroom. It was only 9:30, but he was exhausted, and was barely awake enough to turn the water on in the shower before hopping in. I squirmed inside what little room I was allowed in Matt's mind and tuned out from reality, grateful that his lethargy slowed my mental processes as well. My consciousness stirred slightly as I felt the cool sheets on my legs, before fading into a restful sleep.
The morning came with more grace than yesterday. We were allowed to wake naturally, and in a comfortable bed, no less. The curtains on the bedroom windows filtered the sunlight and cast a warm, dim glow on the floor. Through the walls of Matt's home, we could hear the acceleration of a large truck as it passed by on the street.
Matt turned his head to look at the excessively loud clock on the wall – only 8:30. His muscles relaxed and he turned off his side and onto his back, fighting to keep his eyelids open while he stared blankly at the pale white ceiling. In the back of his mind, he was debating whether or not trying to fall back asleep was a good idea. On one hand, more sleep; on the other, he could be out for three more hours and wake up hungry and irritable. He decided to just lie in bed – awake – for ten more minutes.
Only two minutes into our allotted relaxation time, I felt something vaguely familiar. The sensation was so peculiar; I could not pinpoint exactly how I perceived it. Was it a noise? A physical feeling?
Matt, do you feel that? I questioned.
"Nnnah," Matt let out a large breath and stretched under the covers. The mental whisper translated his blurb into 'no,' and I turned my attention back to the strange feeling, which was growing stronger. Matt closed his eyes as he started to lose the battle to stay awake in his bed, and the feeling grew stronger still.
Suddenly, I figured it out, and Matt's eyes jolted open as my excitement poured into his brain and his heart accelerated. It was the pulse! I hadn't noticed it before because of the sensory overload – the sights and sounds of the real world – but with our eyes closed it was familiar enough to recognize from the dark void.
The warmth – the pure knowledge that there was something in close proximity. But what? Matt's eyes closed again and I focused harder, reaching out with my mind to grasp at the phantom feeling. The vibrating warmth settled somewhere outside Matt's front door and suddenly we were up and out of bed; I wasn't sure who was controlling our body as we bolted for the window and pulled back the blinds to peer outside. The brightness of the sun made us flinch back in shock, but we peered to the left, looking for anything that might have set off my…whatever this was.
A mail truck was parked on the curb outside, and further to the left, wouldn't you know it, was the mail man. He stepped off Matt's porch and strode past the window we were watching through, probably going to his next mail drop. We closed our eyes, and the pulse followed the man's stride. Confusion bubbled up inside me and Matt backed up onto the bed, saying nothing and giving me time to sort through my thoughts.
"So, what?" Matt questioned. "You have some sort of USPS sonar or something?"
You felt it too?
"No, not really. It was more like how you talk to me. I don't hear your voice, but somehow I still understand everything you're saying. It felt kind of like a memory." He shrugged and moved off the bed and into the bathroom to relieve and groom himself. "Can everyone where you're from do that sonar thing?" Matt asked as he was shaving his face. He clinked the razor on the sink and dragged the blade across another section of his cheek.
Ha, no. It's not so much different than here. This pulse…thing…it's all new to me too.
Matt wiped his face off with a towel and went into the kitchen, leaning against the refrigerator door as he searched the nearly-barren selection of food. He took out an egg carton and took the last two out, placing them on the kitchen counter and trashing the container. The frying pan was sitting on the stove, but I can't remember him using it at all in the short time we shared together. We cringed as he took in the greasy black tar look of the skillet; Matt gave it a thorough scrub with some wet paper towels and fired up the stove top. He cracked the eggs into the pan and leaned against the cabinet, letting his eyes go unfocussed as the soothing popping sounds of frying food filled the kitchen.
What do you do for a living, Matt? I questioned.
"Well," Matt coughed. "I'm currently…unemployed. I used to work excavation jobs; mostly down on the quarry on forty-four."
What happened?
He sighed. "Life happened. I got Asthma – not the life threatening kind, but enough to make me lose my job. Working in the quarry isn't exactly good for the lungs. Some days I'd come home and couldn't breathe for hours – sometimes days."
Too many sick days?
"Yeah," Matt grumbled, flipping the eggs over. "No. Well, I wasn't fired or let go, if that's what you're asking. My doctor advised I stop working in the quarry – said if I didn't, I could end up with serious health issues. She didn't come out and say I'd die, but I'm pretty sure that's what she was getting at. I wasn't going to quit, did you know? It was Max – my son. He was so serious, the little kid, sat me down and everything. He told me he'd rather have a poor daddy than a dead one. I gave my two weeks' notice the next day."
I'm sorry.
"Don't worry about it," Matt waved his hand and flipped the eggs onto a plate and filled a glass with tap water. "I'll get by. Heck, maybe I can write this vampire story of yours and become a millionaire." Matt suddenly started laughing, spitting egg onto the floor, as I imagined what the dialogue for Matt's version of Twilight would read like.
You should totally do that, Matt.
After Matt cleaned his plate and wiped the egg stain off the floor, he went out to get the mail and then plopped down on the couch to watch some more TV. Seeing him like this was kind of therapeutic. Here was a man with health problems that prevented him from working, who was unemployed and middle aged, who had a kid who lived with his mother, and had little to no social life, and his surface thoughts were completely content as he watched his television program. It made me wonder if I would be as calm about my displacement situation if I were in my own body, or if Matt's natural calm temperament was keeping me from flipping the fuck out.
End notes: Don't worry, next chapter I'll have something new for you than Davis talking with Matt. We're still quite a few chapters away from the vampires, but don't worry, we'll get there.
Oh, and I'm on winter break now, so I'll be able to write late into the night and during whatever dead time I have during the day. So maybe I can crank these chapters out a bit faster or make them a tad longer. We'll see what happens.