Thirteen Things I Miss About Jan

1. She smells like coconut and lime. I'm sure it's perfume or body lotion (more likely the latter), but in my mind the scent is intrinsically associated with her.
2. She doesn't wear make-up. She doesn't need it.
3. When she thinks something is really funny, she laughs like a barking seal. 
4. She calls me "X." If I quote other people calling me "X" here on the blog, I'm just substituting for my real name, but she liked the nickname enough to use it in real life. 
5. She's a great listener.
6. Once she's done listening, she tells me why I'm being dumb.
7. She's good at taking problems apart and finding ways to fix them. Comes with being an engineer, I guess.
8. She makes me see the world differently than I ever had before.
9. She's not afraid to get her hands dirty.
10. But usually her hands are clean. 
11. She slurps her noodles. Because that's how they do it in Japan. Never mind that she does this with spaghetti as much as with ramen.
12. She lets me open the door for her, but then she opens the next door for me.
13. She is the missing piece in my puzzle.

Got this text from Jan today:

"HCO put me on probation. Cant see you anymore."

And I guess that's it.

Living On The Edge

Jan spoke to her bishop this morning. Confessed using her power to heal me, Chenry, and Tara the other day. He thanked her for confessing, assured her it was the right thing to do, but didn't seem to think it justified lessening the punishment in any way. He said he's going to report her to the Honor Code Office, which means she'll probably be kicked out of BYU. As if that weren't enough, he's going to talk with the stake president to see whether this warrants a disciplinary council. He said her transgression is more serious because she's a returned missionary and temple recommend holder, so she's broken more serious covenants than the average kid who accidentally uses his mutant power. Oh, and she's no longer a temple recommend holder; he took care of that.

I'm furious at this man and I don't even know him. Also, I feel guilty for being angry at someone who was called of God, who's just doing his job. Who am I to say he's wrong? I just wish he'd see it's not her fault. She was only trying to help me. But I guess that's part of the problem. She mentioned me, and that we were dating, and he said that concerns him even more. He said it's a sign that her using her power on Tuesday wasn't an isolated incident, but that it's part of a broader tendency toward rebellion. According to him, even if dating another mutant isn't technically wrong, it's living as close to the edge as we possibly can, and we're bound to tumble into the abyss. Maybe he's right.

But still, as Jan told me all this via instant message, all I wanted to do was hug her, to hold her tight and never let go. Now I'm wondering if I will ever see her again.

Thy Will Be Done

Well, Jan is alive. If it were up to her, I wouldn't know that, but thankfully a higher power intervened. I've been worried about her since Tuesday and when I worry I run, so I've been doing a lot of running. Typically I stick to my usual route south of campus, but this evening I had the inclination to run north, to the temple. I'm glad I listened to that inclination because that's where I found Jan--at the temple.

Photo credit: http://christiwilliams.blogspot.com/

I was jogging up that hill--I've had more energy this week than I've ever had in my life--when I noticed someone standing in the middle of the snowy field between the temple and the MTC. Someone who looked like Jan. I ran through the snow, excitedly calling her name once I got close enough to confirm it was her.

"We shouldn't see each other anymore," she said as I approached.

"What? Why?"

"I'm a bad influence on you. I'm a bad person."

I shook my head. "Because you saved my life?"

"You wouldn't have died. You'd just be horribly disfigured and possibly crippled for life."

I searched for signs of a smile but found none. I still think she was joking.

Jan folded her arms across her chest. "The point is, I should have had faith that God would take care of you. I should have waited for the paramedics to arrive. I should have, I dunno, called your home teacher or something. Instead I took things into my own hands." She held out her hands and stared at them like they were vile. "For all I know, it was your time to die. Or it was part of God's plan for you to be crippled or disfigured, because you needed to learn something from that experience. You know how when men give priesthood blessings, they always say, 'if it be Thy will' or 'according to God's will'? My power doesn't give a crap what God's will is. It takes one of the most sacred powers of the priesthood--healing--and does it without regard to what God wants. What I did to you, it's horrible. It's unforgivable. It's..." She turned away from me. "It's why my dad doesn't ever want to see me again."

This made me angry--at her dad and at her. "What, so you just decided for me that I wouldn't ever want to see you again either? Don't you think that's a little condescending? Did it occur to you that I've been worried sick about you? And I'm sorry, but I refuse to believe in a God who wants me dead or crippled. Maybe he would have let it happen, but he also let you happen. He let you be there when I needed you, and he let you heal me. Don't you think he could have stopped you if he wanted to?"

"I don't know. I don't know what God wants. Whatever connection I once had with Him has been cut. That's why I'm here. I'm not worthy to go inside anymore--I still have my recommend but I know I'm not worthy--so this is the closest I can get. But it's not working. I still feel nothing. I pray and pray, but there's no answer."

I touched her elbow. "He sent me."

I smiled and she smiled back, albeit tentatively.

"I just need some time to figure things out, X. Can you give me that?"

Reluctantly, I agreed. We talked for a few more minutes, then I continued on with my jog. Now I feel sick. I fear I made a horrible mistake, and I'll regret it for the rest of my life. Did I give up too easily? Should I have insisted that we figure things out together? Ugh. Why are relationships so hard? Why is everything so hard?

At Ground Zero

Still no sign of Jan. She wasn't at her apartment, and I don't know where else to look. She doesn't answer calls or texts (Marsha let me borrow her cell).

I did, however, get news from the police: They found a body in the wreckage. The strange thing was that, based on what they've been able to recreate of the incident, he was right at the epicenter of the explosion, outside the Honor Code Office on the fourth floor of the Wilk, but he didn't die from the explosion. His skin wasn't burned at all. He died from the fall, once the explosion took out the floor beneath his feet, and the building collapsing on top of him. They've identified him as Stan Kirby, a student in the music department. Based on the evidence, they suspect he was the source of the explosion--not that he was carrying explosives, but that he was the explosive. A mutant.

The investigator who called me asked if I knew Stan, or had any idea why he would have used his mutant power to destroy a building at BYU. I lied. I told him the name didn't ring a bell. He said he figured it was a long shot, but he wanted to rule out the possibility that my friends or I were the target of what he called Stan's "terrorist attack."

I kept my mouth shut, but I do know Stan. He's no terrorist. I didn't say anything to the detective because I didn't want to explain that I know Stan from the Understanding Unnatural Power Proclivity club at BYU. I didn't know him well because he wasn't very talkative, but I know his dad is a pretty prominent businessman in Salt Lake, and he comes from a big Mormon family. I remember thinking at last week's UUPP meeting that Stan seemed really bothered by something. Someone even asked him what was wrong, but he just shook his head and said, "I don't want to talk about it."

Now that I know they think he was outside the Honor Code Office when it happened, I'm thinking that whatever his problem was last week, it had something to do with Honor Code issues. Maybe he wasn't doing a good job of keeping his powers in check. Maybe he was in trouble. Maybe he was being kicked out of BYU. Maybe he was scared of what his parents would say. Maybe he was angry at the Honor Code Office. Maybe him dying in the explosion he caused wasn't an accident.

So I guess I'm a jerk for not saying anything to the officer, just because I didn't want to out myself. Putting the truth out here on the blog eases my consciousness a little, but I know it's not the same. If the police investigator comes across this post and puts two and two together, then I deserve whatever consequence comes of that. Stan Kirby was not a terrorist. He was a mutant, and a Mormon, and a BYU student. Perhaps he made some mistakes--I really don't know--but he didn't deserve to die. He didn't deserve to feel like death was his only option. Nobody should ever feel that.

Wombat Woman Lives!

Galadriel appeared by my bedside last night. Which sounds like something that belongs in Lord of the Rings, but this was no elf queen; it was my friend and writing group mate, who I thought had been killed in yesterday's explosion at the Wilk. Except she was very much alive, albeit scratched up and dirty. Nonetheless, the sight of my good friend, smiling down at me in my hospital bed, was more beautiful to me than Cate Blanchett could ever be.

"You're alive!" I said, because I'm really good at stating the obvious. "How'd you get out?"

She grinned mischievously. "Can you keep a secret?"

I nodded. "You've kept mine."

"The ceiling was about to fall on me, so I went the only way I could--down. I burrowed into the earth below the Wilkinson Center."

This is when I began to question whether I was actually awake.

Sensing my disbelief, Galadriel playfully backhanded me in the arm. "What, you live in a world with a man who climbs walls, a woman who can make herself invisible, and a thawed-out super-soldier from World War II, not to mention one where you can fly, and you can't believe that one of your friends has abilities beyond those of the average human?"

My jaw dropped. "You're a mutant too?"

Galadriel laughed. "No. Being a mutant isn't the only way to have superpowers. It's a long, boring story, involving my dad's lab at BYU, an experiment gone awry, and a radioactive wombat. But don't go telling everyone. People get weird about this kind of thing." (I figure it's okay for me to mention it here, since I'm not using her real name.)

She gave me a hug, then headed home to clean up. I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn't stop thinking about Galadriel's revelation. I'd always known that there were people like Spider-Man, Captain America, and the Fantastic Four, who have powers but aren't mutants, but I hadn't really thought about it before. Are their powers just as offensive to God as mutant powers are? I suppose so, since it's just another form of counterfeit, distracting us from the true power of the priesthood. But I can't imagine God faults Galadriel for using her power to save herself, anymore than he faults me for using mine to save me, Chenry, and Tara. Or Jan for using hers.

Just as soon as the doctor gives me a clean bill of health, I'm out of here. I'll head over to Marsha's for Christmas day festivities, as planned, but not before I stop by Jan's place. If I can track her down, my Christmas will be complete.

Explosion

I'm writing this post from a hospital bed. I'm not injured, though--at least not physically. The doctors are insisting I spend the night here, just to be safe. I'm going along with their request only because I don't know what else to do. My life has gone to hell.

This morning, Jan came with me to campus when I went to meet with my writing group. She loves to be on campus when it's empty, and just wander around in the silence. So I went to Tara's office in the Wilk, and Jan wandered.

Tara had four chairs set up in a circle in front of her desk, as usual. I sat next to her, Chenry sat next to me, and Galadriel sat across from me when she arrived fifteen minutes late. We started out discussing the latest chapter of Chenry's novel about quirky BYU students with odd names (I have pseudonymed him Chenry in honor of his propensity to come up with eccentric character names), and then we moved on to Galadriel's feminist poem about menstruation.

Tara was laughing at some provocative joke Galadriel had made when an enormous boom shook the building, and the glass separating Tara's office from the hallway shattered. I have a hard time reconstructing exactly what happened next, but I remember Tara screaming for us to get out of there, and I remember running, and I remember suddenly realizing that there was no floor beneath my feet. I honestly don't know whether the floor caved in beneath us or I just started flying for no good reason, but I do know that I instinctively grabbed the two people nearest me, who happened to be Tara and Chenry, and I took them with me as I flew out of the crumbling building. As we soared free of the destruction, I realized my clothes were on fire and my skin was burning, and the thought that came to mind, of all things, was that I must look like the Human Torch.

We crash-landed in the snow, which felt soothing as it melted against my red and blistered skin. I tried to get up, but my shoulder screamed with pain and I couldn't feel my legs. Then I started to panic. Had I lost my legs in the explosion? Had I injured my spine when I crashed? The freezing wetness of the melted snow overwhelmed me and my body started shaking uncontrollably. I heard sirens, then I saw Jan's face, crying, and then I blacked out.

And then I woke up here at Utah Valley Regional Medical Center, without a scratch. My shoulder is fine, my legs are still attached and they work perfectly, and my skin is smooth and pasty white as the day I was born. Even my appendectomy scar seems to have disappeared. I'd be tempted to say that what happened this morning was all a nightmare, except that the nurses assure me that I was in fact found unconscious, dressed in tattered clothes in a puddle on the grass after an explosion demolished half of the Wilkinson Center. The police are still trying to figure out what caused the explosion--it could have been something as innocent as a ruptured gas line, but they suspect arson.

Chenry and Tara are recovering from the trauma in rooms nearby. Just like me, they're both in perfect physical condition, although traumatized. Tara hugged me and cried for a good five minutes. Chenry jumped when I came into his room, then asked me to leave. He says he needs some time to process what happened before he can handle being around me. Whatever that means. Firefighters are still searching through the rubble but haven't found Galadriel. I'm praying for her but not feeling very hopeful. Marsha was here when I came to, but I insisted that she go home to be with her kids on Christmas Eve.

I've tried calling Jan several times now; her phone goes straight to voice mail. I'd try texting, but my cell phone was destroyed in the fire. I still don't know exactly what happened this morning, but I know I saw her before blacking out. The words I heard her saying as tears came streaming down her cheeks repeat over and over in my head: "Please, X. Please don't make me do it. Don't make me use my power."