If you ever have the chance to be nowhere, I highly suggest it. Seriously. It’s like nothing you have ever known. Like being up with the stars on the darkest night, when they are just popping, only you don’t see them, you feel them. And you can dance like you had no weight at all. You don’t think about how heavy you are when you’re somewhere, but really, in comparison, it’s crazy how much we lug around.

Time is strange, too, like it doesn’t matter. Not like you forgot your watch, but like you can’t imagine why anyone would even think of such a concept as time in the first place. Like weight, dealing with time just makes everything harder. But when there is no time, you don’t worry about anything. I mean, like anything. Because what can hurt you if you’re never going to meet up with it? Everything that can hurt you is pretty much in the past or the future, and if you don’t have a past or a future, you’re golden. 

Yes, that’s it. You’re golden. Like those tiny flakes they put on the outside of things to gild them… that kind of gold. And it feels wonderful, because you can float and float and float, until time immemorial, I swear.

Python warned me it might be hard to come back. She said some people got depressed, because you see how good things are when you’re not in your body. And believe me, they are better. So much better. But she also said that once I got a handle on this first stage of shapeshifting—apparently you have to go through this “nothing” phase to shapeshift into being something else—it won’t be hard to come back into form anymore, because I’ll know this heaviness isn’t really permanent. It’s just hard when you are learning, because you miss the nothing place something terrible.

I look out my bedroom window at the summer rain pelting the flowers, and wonder about this world. Why is it heavy, anyway? Why are we here? What are we doing here, if we could be nothing, and so much happier. Truthfully, it’s downright depressing to think about those things, being where I have been.

I have to say, when Python said it would be hard to return, I didn’t know she meant this hard. I keep grabbing hold of Scottie for dear life, the both of us curled in my bed under the covers.

“This world is scary, you know?” I ask Scottie. Of course she only purrs.

But it is. Heavy and scary and dark. Even though it seems like there is more light here than in the “dark,” there isn’t. You wonder what in the world was God—or whomever made up this whole human life thing—thinking when time and space and weight were invented? I mean really, it’s a cruel trick. And once you are beyond it, once you take the nothingness, you don’t just miss it. You feel a homesickness so great you’d practically rather die.

Python said it was a danger to want to off yourself when you get back, but that it only means you have further to go. And if you did off yourself, you’d miss the best stuff, so being the curious type I am, I guess that means I’m stuck here for a while.

“Julie?” I hear Dad yell from the other side of my bedroom door.

“Yeah,” I yell back, though it’s hard to find my voice. Not because I lost it, or anything. It’s just… well… I don’t know how to explain it. Like you hardly know what to say to anything here, after being nowhere.

“Can I come in?” he says. His voice is all happy, only not the real happy kind. The fake happy kind. Great, we are in for a talk.

I hold Scottie closer and don’t say go away. Dad knows this is a yes, so he lets himself in. He’s in his golfing clothes, which isn’t a good sign. He only goes golfing on workdays when there is something wrong. Add to it that it is raining, and things must be really bad.

“Can I talk to you?” he says, coming over to sit next to me. He reaches for my hair and pulls it out of my eyes, like he always did when I was little.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, clearly frowning. “Not really. I was just wondering how you are.”

“I’m fine,” I say. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to tell him I’ve been out exploring nothingness and returning to somethingness is just too much to handle.

“Good. That’s good,” he replies, looking at his fingernails a little too closely.

“Come on, out with it Dad.”

“Yeah, you’re right. There is something. It’s Sally. And me. We are thinking of a trial separation…”

“No,” I say, feeling an immediate panic reach for me, like a real demon, I swear. I pull Scottie even closer.

“I thought you didn’t like her,” he says, looking truly surprised.

“I don’t,” I say. “And I’m not going to like the next wife you bring into our house either. Or rather, make me move into a new house for. But that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point?” he asks, like he’s the kid, and I’m the adult. Like I know what the point should be. Which is just so unfair, so cruel a thing to do to your own kid. But, it is what it is. And if he needs to hear it from me, then so be it.
“You can’t collect wives, Dad. You’re getting too old for that. You have to think of more than…. I don’t know, whatever it is you think of when you make life decisions that are totally unstable.”

Man am I missing weightlessness.

“It’s more complicated than that,” he argues, though there is no conviction in his voice.

“Not really,” I say, but I don’t know what else to say. 

For some reason, don’t ask me why, I start talking in my head, or maybe I’m praying or something. But I’m asking Magic to help me. I mean, isn’t Magic here for me? Haven’t I been storing up the energy for something like this? Like when I don’t know what to do or say?

Just like that, I think of what to say. Or rather, I start saying it, and hear myself talking.

“Remember how you wouldn’t let me quit tennis lessons last year?” I ask, with a little more conviction in my voice than usual. “You made me practice every day, even though I said I hated it? You said I wouldn’t know if I really liked it or not if I didn’t get past the hard parts. Do you remember that?”

“This isn’t a sport, Julie.”

“Exactly. It’s way, way more serious. It’s marriage. Relationship. Commitment. And you quit all the time. Right when you get to the hard parts. So maybe you don’t even know Sally. Maybe you haven’t gotten past the flashy shiny new part of love, and past the hard parts, to find what enduring love really is. But that is why people get married, Dad. For love. Not for sport.”

Dad just looks at me, like he knows I’m right, but also like he’s tired. No, not tired, weary. Well, welcome to the club Dad.

“I’ll think about it,” he says.

“Good,” is all I say.

“How are you doing?” he asks, which pretty much floors me. I guess it shouldn’t. When he’s up, he assumes everyone is, and goes his merry way. But when he’s down, he worries about everyone.

“I want a party,” I spit out. Okay, it was my voice, but I didn’t say it. I swear it wasn’t me. So maybe Magic heard my plea. 

“For your birthday?” he asks, looking confused, because that is a few months away.

“No, for Michael,” I say. Whew, yes, once again my own voice and thoughts. “He’s going to take off early, and his great-aunt Helene is coming back early, and it’s her birthday, so he was thinking it would be nice to do something nice for her, and I was thinking of combining the two. We could surprise her and bring her mother. I think she would really like it. It would have to be this Saturday, though, in the afternoon, before Michael leaves. And a surprise, he says, because she’s not one to like a fuss.”

Dad ponders for a moment, then nods. “Okay. Can you get the new cook to handle the food details? I’ll ask the grounds staff to get a tent. How many do you think?”

“Everyone you can think of,” I say. I mean, the more diffuse, the better, right?

“I can think of a lot of people through work, and some of our other business associations” he says.

“More the merrier,” I say. “Fifty? A hundred? Two hundred?’

“I could get a hundred here pretty easily,” he says.

“Great. I’ll tell the cook. Thanks Dad.”

He gets up to leave, then turns back. “You’ve never even met her, have you?”

“No, but I’m in it for Michael,” I say, lying, but sort of not. I mean, it would be so great if something could change, so he could stay, and not go off to study with some stranger. It’s a long shot, but I can’t deny I’m hoping for it.

“You like him?” Dad asks, a kind of lilt in his voice, and one eyebrow raised. I know what that means.

“Not like that, but yeah, I do. More than most guys my age. He’s a good guy.”

“But not ‘like that?’” he tries to confirm.

“No, more like a brother,” I say, which for some crazy reason makes me think of Jake, and how I don’t really like him like a brother… well, maybe I don’t…

“It’s going to happen someday, though, isn’t it?” Dad asks. “You’re going to find a guy you do like, just like that, and then leave home, and all this parenting stuff will be over.” He sounds sad at the thought, which is sweet.

“More likely college will be your rival,” I say.

“Even so, you’ll be gone. And who will keep me from making the big mistakes I tend to make?”

“We can only hope that by then you will have grown up enough to keep yourself from them,” I say, smirking.

“You’re one cool kid, you know that? Something very magical about you.”

I smile full on now, because there is now way he knows he just gave me the biggest compliment he could have. Even so, it feels good.

“I love you too, Dad,” I say as he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

I’d probably have jumped clean out of my skin seeing a snake hang from the hook on the back of my door, if I didn’t know it was Python.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. “And how did you get in?”

Python doesn’t say anything, being a snake, but now I have to hold Scottie close because if I don’t, I will surely have one dead snake on my hands. Python slithers down to the door handle, then drops to the floor, then moves toward the bed. Poor Scottie is totally freaking, hissing and spitting, and pulling to get at her.

When Python, the woman, stands next to my bed, Scottie is no more comfortable. I guess you know a snake when you meet one, whatever the shape. I stand and put Scottie out the sliding door to my covered patio. She doesn’t leave, just keeps looking through the window, so I decide to shut the shades. There’s something wrong about it, I know, but I want to talk to Python. I need to talk to her.

“How come you are not naked?” I ask. Blunt question, but I’m thinking it would be good to know. After all, I may learn to do this, and it seems a wise move to consider the basics of the trick so that you don’t end up streaking across a room without realizing it.

“I don’t know,” she says with just the faintest of a hiss at the end. “It just seems to work that way.”

Great, big help.

“How are you?” she asks, and I know what she means. She means after coming back to earth.

“It is hard, like you said,” I admit, suddenly remembering the nothingness full force, like a hit to my lungs, so it’s hard to breathe.

“You did good,” she says.

How so?” And how come it never feels that way, I think, but don’t ask out loud.

Python laughs, moving to lean on the edge of my desk, or more like curl up at the edge of it. Strange body shapes this woman can get into.

“You got there and you got back,” she says. “First try, that’s great.”

I wonder about the alternative, but don’t ask that either. “I don’t know if I could do it again, though,” I say. “I mean, if I tried.”

“It’s not quite like that,” she explains. “It’s not really trying. It’s more like feeling it and then going with it. You don’t decide ‘I want to shapeshift now’ or anything like that. Think of it like a storm that is coming. You feel it coming, and then you just put yourself in the way of the wind, instead of taking cover. The more you do it, the more you can feel the wind coming before it gets here. I can feel it coming on for half a day sometimes.”

“Sounds uncomfortable,” I say. I don’t say it sounds scary, even though it does, because I don’t really want to admit how chicken I am about all of this.

“A little. But also exciting, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” I say.

Scottie starts meowing from the other side of the sliding glass door, and on a day like today, I can understand. Still, I can’t let her in with Python here.

“Do you want this, Mayden?” Python asks. It’s not mean, or a threat or a challenge, it’s just a question. But it makes me nervous.

“I guess,” I say. “I mean, I know I’m supposed to give a whole hearted yes, and all that, but it’s a lot, you know? A lot to get used to. A lot to learn. And honestly, I don’t even know why anyone would want to learn it. I mean the shapeshifting. What good is it, other than that you can hang from a door? Which is pretty awesome, so don’t get me wrong there.”

Python laughs. “You’re right, doing it for the trick wouldn’t be enough. It’s not about that.”

I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t. “So, what is it about?”

“You don’t do it because it’s interesting, or even fascinating. It’s too hard a path for that. You do it because it’s who you are. Because not doing it is painful. Because leaving such a path behind you feels like you’d have missed the whole point of your life. If you feel that way, it’s the right thing to do. But if you don’t, you’ll be miserable. It’s hard to explain.”

“Anna has said things like that, in different ways, and she always asks if I’m up for it, or if I’m really in. And I always say yes, but I hardly feel like I know what I’m saying yes to. It’s like it comes from a part of me I don’t know yet, but I want to know. Does that make any sense?”

“You’ve just explained it perfectly, Mayden. That part of you that will understand is making the choice. It doesn’t make sense yet, but if you feel that, it will.”

“And it will be good, in the end, you think?” I have to know. “Not just strange and crazy-making?”

“Oh yes, for sure. It will be good. If you are meant for it, it will be wonderful.”

“Nothingness was amazing,” I admit.

“Just wait till it shifts past nothingness, to something again,” she says, then she laughs, a kind of hiss-laugh that would be really, really creepy, if it wasn’t totally amazing.