Down the Rabbit Hole

“I hope so. It’s been six months and I can’t imagine my life without her anymore.” He pushed both hands through his thick black hair, front to back, then looked up suddenly with an epiphany. “Love sucks, man.”


The both laughed then—agreeing, bonding, deciding to order burgers.

Elise watched, transfixed, as a vanishing Max forced forward a jovial demeanor for Roger when clearly, behind it, he was anxious and unhappy. “He loves me.”

“Yes, he does.”

“I’m a dope.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“He never said it to me. Not like that.”

“Then why didn’t you say it to him? Too afraid? Too proud?” She was both, and he knew it. “Did you know that historically it took forty years for Lois to discover that Clark Kent was Superman? Two people in a love triangle? All that time loving each other—him saving her life a dozen times a week, not knowing if she loved him or his superpowers and being super-insecure about it. And all it took in the end was trust and the truth. Think of all the time they wasted.”

These words came in a different tone of voice and from far above her. Things had changed again. She looked at her hands and touched her face . . . then touched it again to be sure.

“Oh.” A two-letter word filled with more relief than one would think possible. “I’m me again . . . I look like me again.” It then occurred to her: “I feel like a fool and I’m back to being me again?”

“Apparently that shoe fits.”

Elise sighed and started to turn to see who Martin planned to foil her with this time—she hesitated briefly, hoping it wasn’t God speaking from on high.

She saw it peripherally first—smooth, striped cyan-colored skin, a long sweeping tail—and eventually came around fully to face the lower hem of a . . . loincloth. Automatically stepping back, twice, her gaze traveled steadily up the slender ten-foot body of Jake Sully’s avatar, Toruk Makto, resplendent in native cuffs, bands and ties; hair braided with beads, bones and bright feathers.

God might have been a little less disquieting.

“I know.” He stretched out his arms, and his lemurlike eyes of golden-green danced. “Is this cool or what? I tried it once before on a guy from Philadelphia, but he fainted.” Bobbing his head and admiring himself, he added, “He was pretty much hysterical the whole time anyway. I should have known better, I guess—but Avatar had just come out and everyone was talking about it and I was really eager to try it out. Still, you know what they say: There’s no point trying to dazzle someone who’s out of their mind with fear. Right?”

“I can’t think of one, no.”

“So now I keep this one for special people who’ve made the most of this experience and are on their way out.”

“I’m on my way out?”

“If you think you’ve made the most of this experience, you are.” The beautiful blue Na’vi came down on one knee and sat back on his calf, making him more accessible but no less mind-blowing. His wide, muscled shoulders rustled costumes and barely fit between the partitions. He curled his tail around himself, and then he grinned at her. “I told you I’d help you find your way back.”

She stared at him. “So all this, just to tell me I’m an idiot? A suspicious, neurotic, hypercritical, misanthropic idiot who takes for granted all the wonderful people in her life who love her in spite of that. You couldn’t have just told me?”

He shrugged. “Would you have believed me? They say it’s more about the message than the magic, but I think there’s more bang in the buck with the magic; it’s more fun, and the message is less likely to be forgotten too soon.”

“Yeah, forgetting this isn’t likely.”

He tipped his head to one side. “It happens. And don’t beat yourself up when it does. You’re going to keep screwing up and reverting back to those safe, dark, life-wasting caverns in your mind, because you’re just like everyone else, Elise. You’re human.”