The Mandela Effect

Ch. 22

"Jon," Mark stammers, "I... I don't know what to say."

"Amazing right?" Jon says proudly, "I've been really busy."

"I see that," Mark continues, "it's... a lot."

"Yea," Jon says, "You have no idea. I went really deep on a lot of things."

"Like what?" Mark continues to stammer.

"Well," Jon begins, "you told me about Berenstain bears and Mandela, but there is so much more. If you go looking for the information, it's out there."

"Uh huh," Mark mumbles.

"And the weird thing is," Jon continues.

"The weird thing," Mark interrupts.

"Yea," Jon says, ignoring the comment, "the weird thing is that I'm split on them. Sometimes I remember the correct history and sometimes I remember the alternate."

"That is weird," Mark says, turning to look at Jon.

Jon is smiling from ear to ear until he turns and sees the look that Mark is giving him.

"What's wrong?" Jon asks.

"Did you hear me earlier?" Mark answers, "you're on the verge of getting fired. Your students are confused about what's going on. You're not answering calls, texts, or emails. People were worried you were dead!"

Jon waves off the concern, "No one needs to worry about me. I can take care of myself."

"Right," Mark answers looking around the room, "I can tell."

Jon looks around the room, maybe seeing the mess for the first time.

"I know it looks bad," Jon says, his tone concillatory for the first time, "but I've just been focused and didn't want to be distracted."

"When is the last time you left the apartment," Mark asks.

Jon looks at him and shrugs his shoulder.

"When I dropped you off?" Mark continues, "When was the last time you took a shower?"

Jon looks away and up at the wall.

"Alright," Mark says shaking his head.

Mark walks over to the living room window and whips open the curtains and raises the blinds. Jon winces at the flood of sunlight coming through the window.

"Hey," Jon yells, "what the hell?"

Mark uses the incoming light to find a lamp that had been mislaid on the floor and place it on a table. He turns it on and the room is flooded with light at all angles. Jon backs away from the living room and towards the bedroom. Mark follows him in that direction.

"Listen," Jon argues, "I'm fine. I don't need you to take care of me."

As Mark enters the bedroom, he flips the switch on the wall next to the door. The light turns on instantly and the room is revealed; it is an even bigger mess than the living room. Jon is standing over in the corner of the room in pajama pants and no shirt. His right arm is draped over his chest and stomach and grabbing the forearm of his left. His head is down and he is looking at the floor.

"Seriously," Jon says, "I know it looks bad, but I'm really fine."

Mark continues to move through the apartment without speaking. As he passed near Jon, he stops and puts his hand on Jon's shoulder. Jon looks up at him. It seems that there are tears in his eyes. Mark continues to move past him and through the doorway into the bathroom.

Mark flips the switch on this wall, next to the door, and finds the bathroom filthy. Mark catches his breath as he sees the sink filled with dishes and the trashcan overflowing. It had only been a week, but it seemed like more time had passed, based on the level of dirt in the room.

Mark crosses away from the sink and whips open the floor to ceiling glass of the shower. Surprisingly, the interior of the shower seemed relatively spotless compared to the rest of the apartment, and especially the bathroom. Mark leans in and turns on the water, cranking it hard to the left to heat it up. That done, Mark closes the shower door and walks back out to the bedroom. Jon remains in the place Mark left him.

"I'm sorry you had to see this," Jon mumbles.

Mark smiles, "Don't worry about it, man. I know something big happened in Johannesburg, and I want to understand. First, you need a shower. Then, we're going to go out and get you a good meal and talk."

"Mark," Jon starts, but Mark cuts him off, "I have work to do. I don't have time for this."

"Work?" Mark asks, "For your classes? Your students?"

Mark walks back over to the doorway into the living room and points.

"Or that?" Mark finishes.

"I know you don't see it," Jon says, "but it is work, and its important."

"And you can explain that over dinner," Mark says, "If you want."

"I can't..." Jon starts

"If you argue with me," Mark interupts, "it'll just be worse. Maybe you can get me to leave, but I'll come back and I won't be alone."

Jon seems to shut down again, "Alright."

With than, Jon turns and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"Don't lock it," Mark yells across the room and through the door.

"Yes, mother," Jon answers sarcastically. For the first time, he sounds something like himself.