Jeremy Fink And The Meaning Of Life Part 14

I shake my head and throw the stuffed alligator over my face.

"He won't take the phone. Okay, I'll ask him. Jeremy, your mom wants to know if you're sick."

I shake my head.

"No, he's not sick," she says. Then she lifts up the alligator and yells into my ear, "Your mom insists you tell us why you won't get out of bed or she's gonna come home and drag you out herself!"

I look at her doubtfully.

"Okay, so maybe she didn't say that last part, but you better tell me."

So softly that Lizzy has to lean over to hear me, I say, "I can't face the world until I know why I'm here."

"You're kidding me."

I shake my head vehemently. "No. I need to figure out my purpose. Until I do, what's the use of getting up?"

Lizzy repeats my words into the phone, and after a long pause says, "Okay, I'll tell him. Bye." She puts the phone on my desk and says, "Your mother told me to tell you you can have your existential crisis-whatever that means-once you're out of bed. I'm pretty sure you won't find your purpose lying there with an alligator over your face. Get up!"

"Fine!" I tell her, pus.h.i.+ng the blanket off of me and sitting up. I'm wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday. When I'm depressed, little things like changing into my pajamas seem to slip away. "But will you promise to leave me alone today? I want to be by myself."

"Sorry," Lizzy says, placing the m.u.f.fin on my lap. "We have to be down the hall in ten minutes."

"Huh? Where are we going?"

"Samantha's apartment. Now get up!" She drags me off the bed, giving me barely enough time to grab my m.u.f.fin before it falls to the floor.

"I'm not going to Samantha's apartment!" I inform her. "I'm spending the day trying to figure out why I'm here on this planet. You might want to do the same."

"I already know why I'm here," Lizzy says, standing in the doorway.

"Really? You do?" That doesn't seem fair. Everything comes more easily to Lizzy than it does to me.

"I'm here to get you because Samantha and Rick are waiting for us!"

I push her out into the hall and turn the lock. She knocks hard on the door. "Come on, Jeremy, just hear me out."

I put my hands over my ears, but it doesn't help. Now I'm trapped in here, and I really have to use the bathroom. I might as well eat the m.u.f.fin, too.

Her voice is only slightly m.u.f.fled by the door. "This morning when you wouldn't answer any of the notes I sent, I went downstairs to sit on the stoop."

I glance over and see that my solar system poster is in fact pushed a few inches from the wall. I must not have heard her knocking on the wall to announce the notes.

She continues. "The twins were outside, too, so we started talking. One thing led to another, and I told them about your box and how we can't find the keys."

At that, I yank open the door and glare at her. Pieces of m.u.f.fin fly out of my mouth as I yell, "You did WHAT?"

Lizzy backs up a step to avoid being hit by half-chewed m.u.f.fin morsels. "I didn't think you'd mind," she argues. "Well, I actually didn't think about how you'd feel till after I had already told them, but I'm glad I did because Samantha had a really great idea."

Before I could respond, she says, "Samantha said if we need to know where the keys are, we should go directly to the source and ask your dad!"

My stomach twists a little. "What are you talking about? Didn't you tell her about the accident?"

"Of course I told her," she says hurriedly. "Samantha said we can hold a seance, and then we can ask him. She has a Ouija board and everything."

"You're kidding, right?"

Lizzy shakes her head. "It's worth a shot, isn't it? We've tried everything else."

"But Rick is so obnoxious. Do you really want to hang out with him?"

"Maybe he just acts like a jerk because he's lonely. Mr. Rudolph turned out a lot different than we thought he'd be. Maybe Rick will, too. Let's go, okay?"

I lean against the hallway wall. What if Samantha was right? What if I really could talk to Dad again? That would be worth having to hang out with the twins. And to be honest, I hadn't done so well with the whole why-I'm-here enigma. After contemplating the question ever since James dropped us off yesterday, I came up with only three possible answers. I'm here to be my mother's son, to be Lizzy's best friend, and to eat a lot of candy. Somehow, that doesn't inspire greatness. "Okay, I'll meet you on the stoop in five minutes and we'll go in together."

"Cool," she says, hurrying away. "You won't regret it."

Why do I doubt that?

I find Lizzy on the top step, her face tilted up to the sun. Little Bobby and his mother are there, too, sitting in the shady part.

"Jeremy," Lizzy says, "why don't you ask Mrs. Sanchez the question you've decided to ask everyone?"

Now that we're back in our regular non-limo-riding, non-returning p.a.w.ned-items lives, asking people the meaning of life seems kind of embarra.s.sing.

"Go on," Lizzy urges. "And then we have to leave."

Mrs. Sanchez looks up from combing a squirming Bobby's hair. Instead of asking what the meaning of life is, I ask, "Why are we here? You know, here, on this planet. Not like, here, on this stoop."

She smiles, apparently not surprised at my question. "You don't know this?" she asks. I shake my head.

"It is simple," she replies. "We are here to help others."

Bobby looks up. "Then what are the others here for?"

"Hush, child," she says, playfully tapping him on the head with the comb. "The things that come out of your mouth!"

Lizzy laughs, but I actually thought it was a valid question. Could it really be that simple? If everyone helped everyone, there would be world peace. Maybe it is that simple. Somehow though, I don't think that's quite right. I'm all for people helping each other, but that seems more like a good idea, rather than the reason we're here in the first place.

Even though it's not that hot out today, I'm feeling sweaty and sticky. When was the last time I showered?

I thank Mrs. Sanchez and follow Lizzy up to the twins' apartment. Samantha opens the door, dressed in black from head to toe. "To get in the right mood," she explains when she sees us checking out her outfit. Even her eyes are rimmed in black.

Suddenly a lightbulb goes off in my brain. "Hey, eyeliner! That's what eyeliner is!"

Samantha gives me a strange look, and Lizzy kicks me in the s.h.i.+n. I'm trying to figure out the most important questions in all of humanity, and my biggest breakthrough is about girls' makeup? I am truly pathetic.

"Come on," Samantha says, leading us down the hall. have the Ouija board set up in the living room." Without turning around, she says, "Why do I smell peanut b.u.t.ter?"

I do a quick underarm check. Yup, it's me. I really ought to keep up with my showering schedule better.

Rick is waiting for us. He is not in black. He is, however, wearing a cape. "Don't ask," he says. "Samantha made me. She said if I didn't wear it and we couldn't contact your father, it would be all my fault. Too much pressure, so I'm wearing it. It's from an old Halloween costume. It's not like I just happened to have a cape handy."

This is the longest speech Rick has ever said to me. And it didn't even have anything obnoxious in it. Maybe Lizzy was right about him.

The curtains have all been pulled, and Samantha switches off the lights before sitting cross-legged on the rug. You'd never know it was daylight outside. Lizzy, Rick, and I join her on the floor. The Ouija board is set up in the middle. That little plastic pointer thing is resting in the corner of the board. I haven't used a Ouija board since my sixth-grade lab partner's birthday party. We were trying to contact the spirit of George Was.h.i.+ngton, because he was the only dead person we could agree on. Everyone accused everyone else of cheating and pus.h.i.+ng the pointy thing. Two kids went home crying. I hope this ends better.

"We are ready to begin," Samantha says in a hushed tone. "Everyone join hands." Reluctantly, I take Rick's hand on one side, and Samantha's on the other. "We are going to call upon the spirit of-" Out of the corner of her mouth she whispers, "What's your dad's name?"

"Daniel Fink," I whisper back.

"We are going to call on the spirit of Daniel Fink," Samantha continues. "Mr. Fink, if you can hear the sound of my voice, please send us a sign."

I can hear the sound of my own breathing, along with faint sounds of traffic. A horn honks outside, and Samantha says, "Thank you! We will take that as a sign of your presence and your willingness to speak with us."

I open my mouth to argue, but Lizzy shoots me a look from across the Ouija board. Samantha lets go of my hand, so I let go of Rick's. He and Lizzy keep holding hands until I clear my throat, and she hastily drops his.

"Okay, everyone," Samantha says. "Now gently lay the first two fingers of your right hand on the pointer."

We all lean a little closer to the board and do as she says. She closes her eyes and begins to sway slightly from side to side. "O great spirit of Daniel Fink, we call upon you to answer our plea. Please tell us where we can find the keys to the box you left for Jeremy."

For a few minutes, nothing happens. It's more difficult than one might think to keep your hand resting lightly on a piece of plastic. I begin to get a cramp in my left leg. I stretch very carefully, lest I move the pointer and be accused of cheating. If my father were truly here, I would feel his presence, wouldn't I?

"Do you feel anything?" Lizzy whispers, reading my mind.

"Yeah," I reply. "I feel like an idiot."

Rick snickers. For the first time he's laughing with me, not at me or Lizzy.

"Shh!" Samantha whispers loudly. "Now concentrate!"

"What if Jeremy's dad was already reincarnated?" Rick asks. "He might even be a five-year-old by now. He could be little Bobby Sanchez!"

"Shut up!" Samantha says, glaring at him. "Jeremy's father is not Bobby Sanchez!"

"How do you know?" Rick asks.

Lizzy pipes in with, "He and Jeremy do get along really well...."

"This is ridiculous," I say, pulling my hand away from the pointer. "I knew I should have spent the day figuring out how to be invisible!" As soon as the words are out of my mouth I regret them. What is wrong with me? Why do I just hand people reasons to make fun of me?

But instead of laughing at me, Rick says, "You want to learn how to be invisible? I can show you, no problem."

Samantha groans. "Not that again! I thought you wanted to start fresh here. You know, be normal."

"Don't listen to her," Rick says, springing to his feet. "She's just jealous she's not able to do it." He takes off down the hall, cape billowing behind him.

Having no other option, I look at Lizzy for guidance. She shrugs. "Couldn't hurt."

"That's what you said about this!" I point to the board.

"It's not her fault," Samantha says. "Maybe I did something wrong." She looks so disappointed that I instantly feel bad.

"No, you were great," I say, trying to sound sincere. "I'm not sure I really believe it's possible to contact my dad. But thank you for trying. I know you were only trying to help." I hurry after Rick before she can answer.

As I turn the corner, I hear her say to Lizzy, "He's so sweet! Are you sure you guys aren't dating?"

"I'm positive!" Lizzy replies without hesitation.

I'd blush at being called "sweet" if I weren't still under the dark cloud of my existential crisis. By the way, I looked up existentialism, and the definition is: an a.n.a.lysis of individual existence in an unfathomable universe and the plight of the individual who must a.s.sume ultimate responsibility for his acts of free will without any certain knowledge of what is right or wrong or good or bad. I had to read the definition twice before I could understand it. One word sure can cover a lot of ground!

Rick's bedroom is easy to pick out by the big skull and crossbones sticker. I knock on the door, half-hoping he will have disappeared and won't be in there. What am I doing? Why am I trusting him?

"Come in and take off your sneakers," he calls out.

I tentatively push the door open and find him on the floor, surrounded by books. As I pull off my sneakers, I notice a colorful poster with all these lines and shapes hanging over his bed.

"That's a Sri Yantra diagram," Rick explains. "The interconnecting triangles are supposed to lead you into a hypnotic state. It will be part of our training."

I join him on the floor and peek at the book t.i.tles. The Dummy's Guide to Mysticism, The Holographic Universe, and New Physics: It's Not Your Father's Physics. My heart quickens. These are the types of books I would read! Well, maybe not the mysticism one. I'm more of a science guy.

"Did you read all these?" I ask.

"Twice! And in order to become invisible, you've gotta understand the nature of reality. Now, you know there's no such thing as objective reality, right? Like an actual, tangible reality?" First Mr. Rudolph tells me the word meaning has no meaning, and now this? Doubtful, I ask, "How is reality not real?"

"Everything we think we know is really only perceived by our senses," he explains patiently. "The sounds we hear are just waves in the air; colors are electromagnetic radiation; your sense of taste comes from molecules that match a specific area on your tongue. Hey, if our eyes could access the infrared part of the light spectrum, the sky would be green and trees would be red. Some animals see in completely different ways, so who knows what colors look like to them. Nothing is really how we perceive it. Get it?"

I nod again, astounded by what he is telling me. If the sky isn't reliably blue, what hope do I have of finding the meaning of life? How can I find the meaning of life in a world where the sky could actually be green? Or orange?

He continues. "Matter-the stuff that all of us are made of-is really a wave of energy, only in a different form. The electrons buzzing around inside of us are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Look down at your hand."

I turn over my right hand and stare at my palm.

"If you had an atomic microscope, you'd be able to see the atoms making up the skin on your hand. At the center of each atom is a nucleus with neutrons and protons and electrons, right?"

"I don't really know," I admit. "We don't have chemistry until next year."

"Trust me, that's the way it is. But the really weird thing is that the rest of the atom, the other ninety-ninepointnine-nine of it is empty. Between each atom is a void. There is truly nothing holding us-or anything else for that matter-together."

I stare so hard at my hand that my eyes start to sting.

"When you realize you're just a wave of energy," he says, with the air of someone coming to the punchline, "you can disappear."

My eyes widen. "When do I start?"

"Right now," Rick says. "Stand about a foot in front of the poster. Stare directly at the center of the design, but relax your eyes so they cross a little. Nod when you've got it."

I try to relax my eyes, but each time I do, they start to close. Finally, I just look at the poster like I'm looking at something much farther away, and it seems to work. I nod to Rick.