Jonathan: A Fanfiction Novel

October 25

I woke up the next morning at 7AM. Nothing different, nothing special- until I opened the fridge and saw that John hadn't eaten the food I left him. It was only wrapped enough to last for a few hours, so it's gone bad. I toss into the garbage. I can't tell if I'm angry that he's been petty enough not to eat the food in the fridge simply because I prepared it, or if I'm hurt that he didn't eat it. Either way, it goes in the trash.

There's no video. John's move was ignoring me down to the point of not eating food I touched. My move is riskier.

My breath catches as Elena glares at me from behind the counter at The Rialto. I freeze in the doorway. I didn't expect her reaction to be so immediate.

"It's Jonathan," I remind her, hoping that she'll soften up. She doesn't. I take two long strides to the counter and hold out a magazine to her. "Page 37. Read it. Please." After a hard look, she snatches the digest out of my hands.

"Single body, Multi-consciousness," she reads aloud.

"The author is our doctor," I supply. She winces at the word 'our.'

"What, you want me to read this? Right now? I'm working," she shakes her head and thrusts the magazine back into my hands.

"Will you at least hear me out then?" I ask. She's cleaning up glasses around the small bar. No answer. "Will you? Elena?" She starts scrubbing the tables in an aggressive manner. I almost turn to go, but something tells me that she's actually going to listen to what I have to say, even though she doesn't want to.

"When we were a baby," I start. "We wouldn't stop crying, whoever was awake. Our mother abandoned us at the hospital at some godforsaken hour of the night. That- That's where we grew up, strapped to a gurney or so heavily sedated we couldn't tell which way was up, because nobody could figure out what was wrong with us. No one. Not until Dr. Nariman, the one who wrote that article." She stands and leans against the table she was scrubbing, and crosses her arms.

"She was the only one who realised that what looked liked chaos, was actually different people in the same body. I don't know how she figured it out, but once she did, she tried everything she could to help- meditation, therapy, you name it, until finally... this." I turn my head and lean toward her so she can see the mole-like bump behind my ear. "I don't know what John told you it was, but it's what keeps us separated, in our own rooms, if you will. It serves as a timer, and is responsible for making sure that whoever is 'up,' as we say, for exactly twelve hours, from 7-7. No more. No less."

At first, she doesn't say anything. She just stares at me, arms crossed, eyes focused, like she's trying to crack Enigma.

"Why are you telling me this?" she says finally.

"Because I... I haven't heard from John in a week. We leave each other videos each day to talk and that sort of thing but, he's mad at me, so he hasn't been leaving them. It doesn't work, living in the same body and not talking. But, he really cared about you, so he might listen to you. I was hoping you could tell him to come back." She talks four steps closer, and there's only a small distance between us. She has to look up at me again, but this time, her eyes are inquisitive.

"I'm looking at someone who my eyes say I know and care a lot about, but yours are looking at me like a total stranger... It's a lot to take in..." she says.

"Please?"

She agrees, and records a short video on his phone. I leave a Post-It for him on the screen that reads 'press play,' and plug both of the phones in, and go to bed.