The New Sense

Monday, July 01, 2002

Happy freaking Canada Day! Didn't get enough sleep because of the extended celebrations of the Brazilians and Brazilabees, because of the humidity and because of worrying about today's conversation with B—.
Here's how it went. We were lying in bed and I think we both felt weird. So I just said it: "I'm pregnant."
He said, "I know," and I totally freaked.
"What do you mean? How could you?"
How could he? I threw away the pregnancy test in a garbage can in the street. I've not had morning sickness yet. He's not been with me long enough to know when my period should start. And even then, I could have just been late.
He sighed. "Okay, I guess we have to have this conversation. I've been avoiding it long enough and now you have to know."
And here I was thinking I had a pretty impressive subject for conversation. Not only is he apparently not fazed by it at all, but he has a better one!
"How did you know?"
"Okay." Big (pregnant) pause. "My way of seeing the world isn't just something in my mind. It's real."
"In what way?"
"I have an extra sense."
Jesus! Now he's not just weird or paranoid, he's a mutant or paranoid!
He went on. "I'm a mutant."
(See? I told me!)
"I was born with the ability to detect gravity."
"Okay…"
"In fact, everyone has this ability, this sense; it's just that mine is hyper-sensitive."
"What do you mean, 'everyone has this ability?' "
"Well, you know which way is up and which way is down, don't you?"
"Duh!"
"Exactly. Duh. But you never really think about how you know."
"Isn't it the inner ear or something?"
"Well, the inner ear is part of the apparatus, but so is the appendix."
"The appendix? But people have their appendixes removed every day. They don't seem to notice anything."
"Yes, obviously. That's because the appendix in most people is next-to-useless. In me, though, it's very useful."
"To detect gravity?"
"Yes. You never felt that weird feeling in your stomach when you're on a rollercoaster?"
"Yes."
"Well, that's the best example I can give you about the appendix's role in detecting gravity."
"Fine, but how are you different from me in the way you detect gravity?"
"I just told you; my sense is very sensitive."
"But it's not a sense. It's just like telling hot from cold or something."
"Maybe that's a sense too; I don't know. I don't even know much about my gravity sense, except that it works. I wasn't born with a manual."
"So you can detect gravity. Let's say I accept that you can detect it much better than me. So what? Why is this such a big deal? That's why you don't like flying?"
"Uh-huh. But you don't realise how sensitive it is."
"What? You can feel the moon, or something?"
"Sure."
I laughed for at least thirty seconds at this. He smiled gently, then carried on: "You can see the moon, while I can see and feel it. It's like saying that you can see and smell an orange. If you didn't have a sense of smell you would only be able to see it."
"Okay…let's say that you do have this sense. It's like seeing with x-ray vision or something?"
"Yes and no. Something like that."
"So how many fingers am I holding up behind my back?"
"Three."
Oh, fuck.
"How many now?"
"None."
Oh, fuck.
"How many now?
"Three again."
I felt my stomach churn. For all I know he could 'see' it churning. He just stared at me. I must have had a huge rush of adrenaline, because suddenly, even in the half-light, every millimetre of his face came into focus. His five-day-old beard; his long, curled eyelashes; a small mole on his left cheek; the blood vessels in the white of his eyes. His eyes.
This was the moment when my world would never be the same. Like when the second plane hit the second tower, a shift in reality had happened and it was irreversible. Of course pregnancy means that my world will never be the same, but (not that I want to think about this) I could have a miscarriage and be back to the same situation I was in six months ago. But this — this means that the world I live in has irreversibly changed. I can't miscarry B— and his new sense.
I never really thought about spiritual stuff. I read the horoscopes for fun, but will always touch wood. Don't believe in UFO's but once believed a tarot reader who somehow knew I was an only child, was scared of the ocean and my favourite colour is baby blue. What does this mean? Is all that stuff true? Is the X-Files happening right here in my apartment?
Am I in danger? What does he know? How well do I know him? If he can see how many fingers I'm holding up behind my back, what else does he know about me?
"It's okay," he said, seeing I was freaking on the inside. "Dogs can't see colours, you know."
What? What was this about dogs?
"But we can. We have an extra sense that dogs don't have — the colour sense."
"So?"
"But we're not freaks, are we? They just can't understand what colour is. We could never even explain it to them, even in doggie language." He put his hand on my hair and caressed me very, very gently. "I have something like the colour sense."
I've no idea how much time went by while this sunk in. My mind was fighting it. Really fighting it.
"But a 'sixth sense' is supposed to be something completely different. Telekinesis and psychic visions and that kind of thing. Seeing beyond our reality. How come we have this sense but it's super-underdeveloped?"
"That sixth sense stuff is just crap as far as I'm concerned. Just wishful thinking. Everyone wishes they could get outside their body. It means they won't really die when their body dies."
"And? What's this, your thing, then?"
"Look at it this way — there are creatures who have very underdeveloped eyes. Eyes which can only detect light from dark and maybe, maybe vague shapes. They have a primitive sense of sight. And you have a highly developed sense. It's the same difference."
I didn't want to understand. I wanted him to be a nut. But he was making sense now.
"And why is Sean so obsessed with this?"
"Because he works at a research lab in the States, exploring the discrepancies between quantum physics and astrophysics. Each theory works perfectly in its own field, but each is completely incompatible with the other. He thinks my sense may hold some kind of clue to how they can be reconciled."
Yeah, okay. At this point there was an information overload, so I gave up with the questions for a while. I decided kissing him was a good idea. He seemed to agree. I was just about to ask him whether he cared about the baby when he said, "The baby might well have the same sense as me."
I felt my stomach churn again. Am I carrying a mutant? Are you a mutant if you're the child of a mutant, or are you already a new species? Are you legit? Maybe that's why I got pregnant, even though I'm on the pill. It's like I've been impregnated with an alien.
At that point I felt physically sick and had to get to the bathroom. I puked for about a minute. B— came to the door and asked if I was okay. He's a sweet freak. That would be a good name for a band: Sweetfreak. Oh god, I'm cracking up.
Can't concentrate to write any more. Rest of the day was kind of woozy. I was distant with B— but couldn't help it. This is all a bit much. Today is moving day and I feel like I'm the one who's moved. I've moved into someone else's life.

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posted by Sara