Chapter 12 (post two)

Pre-read note: This section is try and explain some things, except I don't know if I'm accomplishing that or confusing the reader. Something tells me that this will all be re-written, one day when I have the time. 

Chapter twelve, section two:

I immersed myself in Jake’s tour.

We took his sleek car around the city, from end of town to the others. We toured the neighbourhood where my school was, a suburb full of large cookie-cutter houses, then headed into the city itself. The place divided into districts, as I had noticed on my shopping trip the other day: shopping, business, dining and services.

Jake drove through all three, pointing out places that might interest me. I tried to remember where some of them were, such as the clothing store and drugstore from yesterday, as well as some interesting restaurants, although all the buildings were made of that same reflective gray material, which made them all look the same. We came to a building with red, stylized letters reading, “Sunrise Chinese,” and pulled into a driveway leading to a parking lot in the back.

 The place was modern and sleek, not a neighbourhood Chinese restaurant at all. The tables were tall, black, with matching chairs. Red lanterns hug above each, the only colour in the room. It was the most decorated place I’d been in, and although it was sparse and very modern, I liked it.

“This place is so cool,” I said to Jake.

“Yeah, I come here all the time,” he replied.

As we flipped through menus, large, black and white things with more cheesy, stylized font, I said, “What do you recommend?”

“For vegetarian options....” he flipped the page, “The eggrolls, for sure, and the deep-fried tofu.”

“Those are not the healthiest options!” I laughed, “But, ok, I’ll try those,” I shut the folder and made room for it on the table-for-two. More quietly, so the people around us wouldn’t hear, I asked, “Since here, in this world, people aren’t hungry, how does it work with weight? Can you still lose or gain weight the same way?”

“No,” Jake said, folding his menu and placing it on top of mine, “It’s more of a... choice here.”

“You can choose?”

“If you want your body to be smaller or bigger, it will slowly adapt.” He tried to explain. “Since you are technically a spirit here, you are maluable and don’t apply to the basic rules of a physical body.”

“I think I understand...” I said, but before I could finish my thought our waiter appeared. I was surprised that he wasn’t Chinese or even Asian; he was an average, white man probably half a dozen years older than myself.

“Hi, can I take your orders?”

He took them down on a pad of paper, the disappeared into another room with our menus. It was getting busier as it approached 5:30pm. I wondered how this world worked, whether there were other countries, whether they were like the ones back home or if they were different too. I looked up a Jake, who was checking his phone, but stopped myself. The room was too crowded to ask openly about this world. Instead, I smiled and said, “What is choi meing?”

He described his order for me and my thoughts were pushed to the back of my mind.

When we finished dinner, it was seven, and although I told him that I was going to be late for the curfew, he said that students would often arrive late on Sundays and it was ok, because I was with him. And so we headed off to that the very first place he’d shown me last week: the beach.

Again, it was empty, not a soul for miles. When we pulled up, the clouds in the sky were blocking the moon and the stars, so the ocean looked like an angry blanket of gray.

Jake brought blankets, one to sit on and one for me, without a sweater since I hadn’t thought we were going to be out late.

We settled far from the water, half the blanket on the slope of the dunes and half on the flat of the beach. When we laid back, with the dunes propping us up to forty-five degree angles, I was disappointed in the cloud cover. The view would have been amazing if it was just stars and a moon, but instead it was mysterious black and gray sheets of untouchable fabric.

“Too bad about the clouds,” I whispered.

“They are neat, though, in their own way.”

As I watched them, I could see them move. It was only slightly noticeable at first, then they picked up, and I watched them drift across the sky. I offered some blanket to Jake, and when he refused, pulled it in closer around me.

“We should talk,” Jake said, watching my eyes drift open and closed, “So you don’t fall asleep.”

“Ok,” I said.

“You must have more questions.”

“I did have another...”

“Yeah?”

“Are there other countries?”

“Yes. This world is the same as yours geographically, and most continents are divided up the same way. China is in the same place. Many places are named for their Earth cities and states.”

“Where are we?”

“We are in North America, on the West coast.”

“Like, Canada?”

“North America applies to the geographical area of Mexico, the United States and Canada back on earth.”

“Oh. So what province are we in?”

“Calumbia.”

“With a c-a?”

“Yep.”

“Like California and British Columbia combined?”

“Yes.” He grinned.

I thought about it for a second, then laughed. “Really? Huh.”

The clouds were starting to clear a little; they were drifting apart and little gaps were opening, where the stars were poking out.

“About not gaining weight...”

“Yeah?” He looked me with his hands behind his head.

“How?”

“I know this is hard to understand, but remember, you aren’t you anymore. This body and this world aren’t actually physical; they’re not made up of particles or atoms. You are a spirit – you are maluable, like Playdoh.”

“So how can I change?”

“Just want it.”

“I’m wanting it; nothing is happening.”

“It takes more time than that, give it a couple weeks. But don’t turn into one of those stick figures; it’s not attractive.” He smiled a huge grin.

I laughed, “Yeah, I’ll try to resist!”

I paused, then asked, “Does that mean I can change into absolutely anything?”

“There’s limitations, but only the limitations your mind has.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t even understand it all, but basically, you don’t need to worry about turning purple or growing a tail.”

“And if I wanted a tail?” I respond with a grin.

“Sorry about that, then,” he laughed, “Maybe someday.”

We both turned back to the sky with smiles lingering on our cheeks.

“It’s late,” he said, glancing at his watch, “We should get going.”

“Five more minutes.”

He looked at the sky, saying, “Five more minutes,” as the clouds drifted apart and the moon began to shine through.