Alternate Reality

by Stephen Halpert

As she brought in their decaf Roz noticed maracas on the coffee table. They weren’t there when she went into the kitchen. She set down the tray. Her husband Bill was slouched against the sofa cushions obviously in one of his daydreams. She feared sprawled that way he might throw out his back. “Decaf French roast,” she said. touching his shoulder. “Wake up, Bill.”

His body twitched. Opening his eyes he felt discombobulated.

“You were off in La La Land again.”

He shook his head and blinked. “More like a dive in Mexico where scantily clad women dance on the tables.”

She frowned at the maracas. “Where’d they come from? They weren’t here when I went into the kitchen.”

He grimaced and shook his head. He felt as though he had a hangover. “I think she gave them to me.”

She picked one up, sniffed, wrinkled her nose. “Odd perfume.”

“She was big and brassy with gold teeth. That’s all I remember. Wherever I was it felt real.”            

She sighed. “It makes me nervous when you do that stuff.  What if you never come back?”

He frowned. “Roz, it’s perfectly ok letting my consciousness slip into an alternative reality. Who knows? Eventually I may be able to time travel between two locations. And if I don’t make it back, call 911.”

 She sighed. “I can’t argue with you. You know all the psychobabble. You’ve been experimenting since before we met. Then you called it astral travel. I should be used to it by now. But I love you and it scares me.”

“You think I’m weird.”

“Not at all.” She smiled sadly. “I know you’re a professional psychologist. But why couldn’t you specialize in weight loss instead?” 

He picked up the maracas and shook them. “I need to pursue this further. Nothing ever materialized before. I want to go back to that dive in Mexico.”

Roz shook her head. “I wouldn’t. I’d write it up in your lab notes and let it go at that. If you wouldn’t mind. I’m tired, and I just wish we could go to bed.” 

He sensed her nervousness. “Sure. You know,” he said climbing under the covers beside her. “With sufficient detachment, or if you prefer, through a developed sense of non-attachment, I don’t see why eventually the mind couldn’t harness pathways to alternate realities, letting them appear in our consciousness.”

She snuggled next to him. “Being in two locations at once?”

He kissed her. “Something like that.”

She shrank into herself. “And so, if some morning I can’t awaken you I’ll just assume you’re still in some Mexican dive drinking tequila.”

He laughed. “Like I said if you can’t rouse me, call 911.”

She tried to feel brave, and took a deep breath. She didn’t want to leave this unfinished. “But nothing you said tonight explains the maracas. I can’t go to sleep until I know how they got here.”

“I thought you were tired.”

“I am, but this is more important.” She got out of bed, went into the living room and returned with them. She got back in bed and handed him one. “I can tell when you’re determined. I love you. Take me with you?”

He sat up and kissed her.  “Ok let’s just let it play itself out.
“Hold yours, shake it while I shake mine and let’s see if they can take us back there.” 

Taking Roz’s free hand in his, he closed his eyes and shook his maraca. Next,  he saw currents of swirling energy on his closed eyelids. Then he saw a wavy image of that same saloon with the long mahogany bar where he had been earlier.

He opened his eyes. “Come on Roz, shake yours too and let’s see what happens.”

She shook hers tentatively. “Nothing’s happening.” 

“Close your eyes.” He kissed her and put his arm around her shoulder. Together they let the maracas sound out a rhythm. “Breathe evenly, everything’s ok, know I’m right here beside you.”

Moments later a stronger vision of the dive rushed over his senses: raucous perfume, heavy perspiration, stale beer, hot spicy food. He could hear the chatter of the patrons and guitar music pl. A woman appeared beside him. She had wild eyes, black hair and wore a low-cut top barely covering her bosom. Around her neck was a bright red bandana. She moved closer to him, embraced him, and kissed him savagely. Her teeth brushed against his lips. She raked her hand through his hair, again kissing him hard. 

Looking past the woman, he saw Roz further down the bar, flirting outrageously with two large drunken Mexicans. They leered back. He’d never seen her quite so demonstrative. She was obviously encouraging their attention.

The woman pulled him against her, and took the maraca from his hand. Then she wriggled her shoulders and wrapped her bandana around his neck.

He could hear Roz laughing. What was happening? She never acted this way at parties. His head spun; confusion gave way to a severe headache as the reality of the saloon dissolved.

Opening his eyes he found himself back in their bed beside her. He felt relieved, though strangely upset. “You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself.” His tone was dry.

She looked at him. “Where’d that come from? I never went anywhere. I was right here holding you while you twitched.”

She noticed the bandana, took it from his neck and sniffed. “It has the same scent of cheap perfume.” She raised her maraca and shook it. “Where’s your maraca?”

“The woman took it and gave me this bandana instead.  You sure you weren’t in that dive enjoying the attention of those men?” 

“Whose attention? I was right here beside you all the time. What are you talking about?”

“The two Mexicans you were flirting with.” 

“Was I?” She looked at him, rattled the maraca and grinned. “That sounds like fun. Let’s do it again sometime.”

A graduate of Emerson College, Stephen Halpert has been a published author since the 1970s. Most recently, his weekly column “American Scene,” which ran in The Grafton News from 1989 to 2022, featured humorous vignettes of his life with his wife, Tasha, and serial fiction.  In 2018, Halpert published his first collection of fictional tales, Abracadabra Moonshine and Other Stories, available on Amazon. His next writing venture is titled “Mona Lisa’s Eyebrows and other stories.” Contact Stephen to learn more.