“After finishing his readings at the health club, Fergus often stopped by my apartment. He had his own key by that point, so he would just let himself in. I was normally studying at my desk in the bedroom.
“‘God, you take this shit so seriously,’ he muttered one night, shifting a pharmacopoeia aside so he could sit down on my bed.
“‘I need to.’
“‘I need to unwind. Let’s go to Jay’s Place for a while.’
“‘I’d love to, Fergus, but I can’t. It’s my turn to present the patient case tomorrow, so I need to be prepared.’
“‘Do it later.’
“‘If we go out, I won’t have a “later”. I need to get some sleep as well. I’m exhausted.’
“‘Have you been meditating?’
“‘Yes, I’ve been meditating. But I still need sleep.’
“‘Yes, but have you been doing the meditation? The way I showed you? Because if you’re doing it the way I showed you, Laura, you shouldn’t need so much sleep. The body requires no more than four hours’ sleep to regenerate. Anything past that is wasteful.’
“‘I need more than four hours, I’m afraid,’ I said. I sighed. ‘And I still need to get this finished.’
“He paused to look at me, his expression displeased. ‘I wish you weren’t so resistant.’
“‘Look, I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to go out, but that I can’t. I have to complete this.’
“Fergus regarded me intently. When he couldn’t get me to cooperate, he smiled in a sad sort of way that thinly disguised disapproval under sympathy. ‘Here, I’ll make us a cup of tea,’ he finally said.
“Picking up the dirty mug from my desk, he glanced off-handedly into it, then blanched. ‘Coffee?’ Said with astonishment befitting the discovery that I’d been knocking back mugs full of whiskey.
“‘Yes, coffee,’ I said.
“With completely unexpected force, he threw the coffee cup. It hit the edge of the bookshelf and fell to the floor, shattering. ‘Why do you do this to me?’ he asked angrily. ‘Why do you resist every effort I make with you?’
“‘I’m sorry. I’m just tired.’
“‘You’re not meditating,’ he said fiercely and loomed over me.
“‘Fergus, I am meditating, but I don’t have enough hours in my day. I’m trying to do your stuff. I’m trying to do my stuff. And I’m shattered.’ Tears came to my eyes.
“‘No wonder Torgon refuses to come through you directly,’ Fergus muttered blackly. ‘You don’t even try to meet her halfway.’
“Huffily he disappeared into the kitchen, while I got up to clear away the pieces of broken mug.
“When he returned, he was carrying cups of herbal tea. No matter what the label said, every tea Fergus brought tasted the same to me. Their herb-and-flower smell had become inextricably connected in my mind with Fergus’s presence.
“He pushed the books out of his way and flopped down on my bed. ‘What I actually came to talk to you about is this course on channelling I want you to go on. It’s in San Francisco. I know the leader personally and he’s top of the league. It’s a private course, only for those who have already achieved a certain level of enlightenment, and I think it’d be ideal for you. There’ll be a lot of other people like yourself who’ve already made good contact with their guides but aren’t fully at home with channelling. Gavin, this guy who runs it, channels professionally. He’s, like, done it for all these movie stars and business people. Really famous people. And he’s rich as shit.’
“‘I can’t go on a course, Fergus It’s right at the end of the term. I could never get the time off.’
“‘We’re only talking two weeks. Two weeks, Laura, and you’d have the benefits for a lifetime. I’ve already talked to Gavin about you. He’s confident that once Raif – that’s his guide – once Raif talks to you, it’ll make all the difference. This guy isn’t Mickey Mouse, Laura. If anyone can help you bring Torgon through clearly, it’ll be Gavin.’
“I remember sitting there, listening to him and feeling depression settle over me. I wanted to please him. I loved him so much that I longed to be everything he wanted me to be, but how could I do it? There simply wasn’t enough time to do all the things he wanted me to do and my studies as well, and he became so impatient with me when I didn’t manage it. As for the issue of Torgon … it had been one thing creating an alter ego for myself out of Torgon to use with the Tuesday night group, but what Fergus was trying to ‘bring through’ was something very much grander and I just didn’t have it. There was no ‘real’ Torgon for Gavin and Raif to find. Nothing for me to channel unless I faked absolutely everything. But Fergus refused to hear me when I tried to explain this. He kept insisting it was all my fault that Torgon wasn’t real to me, that if I just did what he said, if I meditated more, lived a purer, more worthy life, studied the things he gave me, just listened to him, then Torgon would come to me as a true Voice.
“I tried to explain that it just wasn’t possible to go on this course he’d arranged for me. I didn’t want to make him angry, because I’d already discovered a very tigerish temper lurking in his love for me. He could roar up in such a fierce way that there wasn’t much distance between passion and violence in his behaviour. I knew it was all my fault, but as much as I wanted to please him, I simply couldn’t do it. I said, ‘Betjeman’s fed up to the back teeth with me as it is. He’s called me in twice now to read me the riot act because my work’s slipped. Once upon a time I was a straight-A student so I’ve had to promise him I’d focus on my work. And I have to. I’ve got a microbiology course this term that I’m really struggling to pass. I need it to get this degree, so I have to study.’
“‘Betjeman? Why is it always Betjeman?’ Fergus replied angrily.
“I sighed.
“Fergus gave me a very penetrating look, his dark eyes moving slowly across my face. Then suddenly he leaped to his feet to tower menacingly over me. ‘Are you fucking Betjeman? Is that why you’re so caught up in what he wants?’
“‘No! God, no, Fergus. Why would you ever think that? He’s just my adviser.’
“‘I don’t believe you.’
“‘Fergus, don’t be insane. He’s like a million years old. I’d never even consider him in that way. You’re the one I love.’
“‘Well, if that’s so, then prove it to me.’ His voice was quiet. ‘You choose.’
“‘What do you mean?’
“‘Him or me. Tell Betjeman to stick it up his asshole and come with me to California. Or choose him and I’m done with you.’
“Astonished, I looked up at him. ‘Come off it, Fergus.’
“He kept his dark eyes on my face.
“‘I’m not hearing this,’ I said and shook my head. ‘I’m not hearing what you just said.’ I opened a text book and bent over it.
“‘I knew you were going to betray me,’ he replied. ‘Just as you did before. Just as you’ve always done.’
“I didn’t respond. I kept my head down, my eyes on the text of the open book and pretended to read, but my mind was elsewhere, a million light years away, darting through parallel universes, other dimensions, the darker reaches of the imagination.
“‘And I’ll tell you something else,’ Fergus said. ‘That first night in the health club when you said you were studying medicine, my heart sank. The Voices had already told me this was not where your life was going, even when I didn’t realize yet who you were. That very first night in the health club. I looked at you and I already knew you were on the wrong path.’
“I raised my head. Bracing my forearms on the desk, I leaned towards him. ‘You keep telling me to tune into what Torgon wants, to what wisdom she has to offer me. The truth is, the only time I have ever genuinely done that was in regards to pursuing medicine. They have no doctors in Torgon’s world. No books. No science. And precious little knowledge on how to keep people from dying of the simplest maladies. Just an old woman covered in paint and goat oil who shakes rattles at the injustice of it all. So, I thought, I can learn it for her. I can go out and I can make a difference with my learning. Torgon inspired me. That’s the one single choice I’ve ever truly made because of Torgon. So how can you tell me now it isn’t my path?’
“‘Because the Voices have said otherwise. They have told me however hard you work, you will never spend a day as a doctor.’”
“I think I could have blanked out that bleak prediction, but then came exams, the end of term, the Christmas break, and, with the start of the new term, my grades. I’d been dreading them because I knew I had been spending far too much time with Fergus and not enough studying, but on opening the envelope, I was forced to acknowledge things were much worse than I’d thought. I had failed the microbiology course.
“I sat at the kitchen table and stared at the paper containing my grades. My blood turned to ice. What was going to happen if Dad and Marilyn found out? My parents had no inkling of my academic decline. Indeed, my family knew very little about my current life at all, because it had been ages since I had been home. I’d avoided contact, because how in heaven’s name would I explain Fergus? All these years Marilyn had so wanted me to have a boyfriend and now that I genuinely had one, what could I say about him? That he earned his living as a psychic? That he was planning to become the Sun King after the apocalypse?
“How had all this happened? How in eighteen months had I gone from being the shining star in Betjeman’s heavens to failing a critical course I needed to graduate? Sitting there at the kitchen table on that dull January morning, I attempted to recreate that sense of awesome yet innocent joy I’d felt when I’d pulled Torgon into my mind during classes or lab work, and tried to see what I was learning from her perspective. I couldn’t feel it now. I couldn’t even remember how it felt.
“Classes these days were a pain, something that got in the way of what Fergus wanted me to do or interfered with my work at the Tuesday night group. Over the previous six months I’d started charging for the channelling advice on Tuesday night – just a little bit, just a small fee to help out with expenses, because I was hardly what you would call rich. Besides, Fergus had said I should. It gave the whole thing a more professional aura, he said. And no one objected. In fact, I now had more people coming to see me at the Tuesday night meetings than ever before. It made the commitment greater, however, as I had to make extra time to see the extra people.
“I stared at the letter and realized that somewhere along the line I’d turned into someone I didn’t know.
“Picking up the telephone, I dialled.
“Tiffany answered. She said, ‘Laura? Is that you?’
“‘Yeah, it’s me.’
“‘You sound funny. Do you have a cold?’
“‘Something like that,’ I replied and wiped the tears out of my eyes.
“‘Are you calling to talk to Mum and Dad? Because if you are, you’ve missed them. They just went to the store to get groceries. Cody’s at hockey practice.’
“‘That’s all right. I was just calling to hear familiar voices. You’ll do.’
“‘Geez, Laura, that sounds like a really bad cold. Did you catch it at the hospital?’
“‘Guess you could say that.’
“Then silence. Tiffany was chewing gum. The smacking sound carried better across the continent than her voice.
“‘What’s been happening there?’ I asked.
“‘Not much. Dad’s been taking me and Cody up skiing most Sundays. That’s about it. I’m getting pretty good. You ought to see me.’
“‘Yeah, I wish I could.’
“‘How come you didn’t come home at Christmas, Laura? I missed you. It’s been forever since you’ve been home.’
“‘I was busy.’
“‘At the hospital?’ Tiffany asked.
“‘Just busy.’
“‘Mum says you have to work really long hours to be a doctor.’
“‘Yeah, something like that.’
“‘I was thinking I might be a vet,’ Tiffany said, ‘but I’m kind of changing my mind. I wouldn’t want to work all the time and never get to see my family.’
“‘Yeah, well, probably animals aren’t as bad as people.’
“‘Are you crying, Laura? You sound like you’re crying.’
“‘No. It’s just a really bad runny nose. Listen, Tiff, I was thinking … do you want to come visit me sometime? You know, like maybe during your spring break?’
“‘Wow!’ Tiffany screamed into the phone. ‘Really? Really, Laura? That’d be brilliant! I’d love to.’ A pause. ‘Would you ask Mum and Dad today? Call back later? When they get home from the supermarket and ask them? ’Cause I’d just love to!’
“Beyond me came the sound of the key in the door lock. Fergus walked into my apartment.
“‘Listen, Tiff, I’ve got to go. There’s someone at the door. Bye-bye.’ I hung up quickly.
“‘Who was that?’ Fergus asked.
“‘My little sister.’
“‘What are you talking to her for?’ His voice sounded vaguely suspicious.
“‘Because she is my little sister.’
“‘Did she phone you?’
“‘Does it matter?’
“‘She’s a kid, isn’t she?’
“‘Yeah, she’s twelve.’
“‘So what did you want to talk to her for?’
“‘Because she’s part of my family, Fergus.’
“He peered closely at me. ‘You’ve been crying.’
“‘No, I haven’t.’
“‘What’s the matter?’
“‘Nothing. Really.’
“He studied me more intently, his dark eyes holding my gaze.
“‘Okay, so I was,’ I said. ‘But I’m fine now.’
“‘Why were you crying?’
“I shrugged. The paper containing my grades was lying open on the table. I didn’t want to call his attention to it by flipping it over but I didn’t want him to catch sight of the university logo either.
“‘You haven’t been meditating,’ he said.
“‘I have been meditating.’
“‘How about those yoga exercises? Are you doing them?’ he asked.
“‘Some of them.’
“‘But not all of them.’ He frowned. ‘This is the whole problem, Laura. You are not committed. I don’t want you to spend time talking to your family. We’re reaching an important period here and you’re starting to bring up a lot of difficult emotions from your past lives. They won’t understand what you’re going through, so talking to them is only going to draw this stage out for you.’
“I could feel the tears rising again, so I turned away and went to the window.
“‘Laura, relax. I can sense your tension from here. Calm down. You don’t want to feel this way, do you?’
“‘No.’
“‘So take a deep, slow breath. The way I’ve taught you.’
“I did.
“His voice softened. ‘Come here. Come over here and sit on the floor with me. I’ll massage your shoulders.’ He opened his arms.
“At the sight of that loving gesture, I couldn’t keep from crying any longer. ‘Everything’s falling apart,’ I said. ‘I don’t know which way to turn.’
“‘To me,’ he said so tenderly, pulling me in against him. ‘Not to some kid sister. Not to Betjeman. Not to any of them. They can’t help you. Only I can do that, my queen. Because no one else loves you like I do.’ His voice went honey sweet. ‘Don’t go to them. Only I know. Only I can help. Only I love you.’
“‘So, relax now, my sweetheart. Relax. Feel your muscles. Here. They’re like iron, aren’t they? Let’s do some of the exercises. I’ll do them with you. Rotate your neck. Like this. Follow me. It’ll release the tension. Now lift your shoulders up.’
“I was crying so hard. I couldn’t stop.
“Leaning forward, Fergus placed his hands on either side of my face. ‘Here, give it to me,’ he whispered. ‘Give me your pain. Let me share your burden.’
“Fergus’s hands were very hot. They felt good against my skin, as he held my face and watched my contorted grimaces. Through them flowed the enormity of his love for me. Really. I could feel it. It surrounded me and absorbed my distress. Even in the depth of my despair I grew aware that no one, ever, had loved me with the strength that Fergus did.
“‘Come to me,’ he said and pulled me close into his arms again. He kissed my forehead, my wet cheeks, my hair and held me close as a baby in the womb. ‘You’re safe,’ he murmured. ‘I have you. We’re together again and nothing ever, ever will part us. I promise you that. I promise with my life that I’ll protect you forever.’”