Page 56 of Perfection

Indeed, she did. Too much. “Yes,” she admitted. She hesitated as he moved closer, heat rising into her cheeks. “I’m in an extremely vulnerable state right now. I’d like anyone who helped me.” She waved her hand. “Correction… Oh, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

She pretended he hadn’t made that comment, tuning into his tone and mannerisms instead. “Did everything go okay at Foster Cryo? Any problems?”

“No.” He folded his arms. “And you didn’t answer me.”

She backtracked the conversation in her head. “You want a second lesson on unity sessions, is that it?”

“Yes.”

She stepped toward the door, well aware he was keeping something from her. “Let’s go.”

“But let’s not fall asleep on the floor again,” he said, following her down the hall.

“Agreed. No need to give the director any more ammunition.”

* * *

York knew the drill this time. He found his position on the floor, crossed his legs, and prepared to let go of his awful day. And wouldn’t that be just what he needed?

To his amazement, the experience was like traveling down a familiar path: the landmarks were there, and he gave them negligible consideration until he approached unfamiliar ground. He reached a destination far beyond what he’d experience the first time, and the change of reality was what he imagined traveling in a time machine would be like. A journey that seemed simultaneously slowed and warped, a capsule floating and spinning toward a minuscule speck on the horizon, a bright star that grew larger and larger and larger.

He was in another dimension. Somewhere peaceful, harmonious, joyful, and pleasurable.

The trials of the day receded, just as he’d hoped they would. And then he saw Danny. His son looked untouched by age or illness, frozen in time as a healthy seven-year-old.

York would have thought he’d get choked up seeing his son. But somehow sorrow seemed out of place here. He approached Danny, who was playing ball with some friends.

The boy hit a home run, pumped his arm over his head, then continued jogging until he reached York. “Did you see that?”

York nodded and squeezed his son’s shoulder. “Totally gold.”

Danny beamed, wrapped his arms around his dad’s hips and hugged him. York lifted Danny into his arms, settling the boy on his forearm and bent elbow, bringing him up to eye level.

“I miss you, my man, but I’m glad you’re having fun.”

Danny angled his head as if wondering why he wouldn’t be. It occurred to York that Danny didn’t miss him, or pine for him, or suffer any loss. He didn’t even understand he was gone.

“Come play, Daddy.”

“I think you can beat me.”

“Everyone wins,” Danny said, wiggling to get down.

As York struck the ball, ran around the diamond, and laughed with his son, he realized why someone would relish this experience. It was as addictive as the most popular hologame.

At some point, he noticed Kindra standing at the sideline, watching. Their eyes met, and she held out her hand.

It was time for him to go. And even though his son didn’t seem bothered by their parting, it was as if a five-hundred-pound weight crushed York’s chest. He gave Danny a lingering hug.

“See ya later, Daddy.”

York tousled Danny’s straight, silky brown hair. “You bet.”

In his altered state, he wandered over to Kindra, grabbed her warm hand, and together they returned to their dimension.

When he opened his eyes in the unity room, they were sitting. They weren’t physically touching, yet the feeling of heat and pressure on his hand remained. Her gaze met his, and his palm grew briefly numb as she seemed to telepathically release him. With a ragged breath, he smiled.