Expect consensual, although mentally distressing sapphic sex, between a straight woman and a gay woman. Also sex toys, and extremely mild S&M and domination.
"I know. I know," Molly says wearily into the phone as she paces the empty kitchen, the only lit spot in her shabby rundown apartment.
Rachel continues, "He's no good for you. You know he's not really working late. For Christ-sake, he's a bag boy!"
"He works at a supermarket, he's not a bag boy."
"Don't defend him. My point's still valid. He puts Cheerio's on shelves. He's not in some high pressure job that forces him to burn the midnight hours to make a deadline."
Molly sniffs. Her emotions are making her drippy. Rachel is right. She knows it, but she desperately wants to be wrong about Marshal. Marshal is all she has. And sure he's never been the best boyfriend, but he wasn't always a bad guy. They had fun together. Went to concerts. visited museums and attended art exhibitions. Took that crazy road trip to Nashville. Of course, most of the fun stuff was years ago when they were first dating. Lately, it has been the drudgery of daily life. And really lately, it has been these strange absences. Working late. Softball with the guys—since when does he play softball, and what guys? Trips to the hardware store that take way too long.
"You can do better. You're a wonderful, special, beautiful person. If you dumped his ass and put yourself out there, you'd find someone who sees that in you. A person who would cherish you for who you are. You just have to take the step."
"But if I break it off with Marshal, I wouldn't be able to afford the rent here. I'd have to move. And in this market, where would I go? And you know I have trouble sleeping all alone. I get anxiety. I just need to figure out a way to make things work with him."
Although she knew that wasn't going to happen. He was straying, and it was only a matter of time before he dumped her. Or things became so blatant, she had to leave him or lose all self-respect.
She begins full-on sobbing at the thought of being abandoned and alone.
"Aw, damn! Don't cry, girl. Look, I'm coming over there."
Molly rubs her eyes with the heel of her hand. "No. I'll be okay. You don't need me ruining another one of your nights."
Good old Rachel. They'd been friends since the first days of college, and she'd always be there for Molly. And Molly spent plenty of time crying on her shoulder. So much so that now she felt guilty about it. And she felt ashamed to have called her immediately after she'd gotten off the phone with Marshal and his lame excuse of why he wouldn't be home until late. Rachel didn't deserve all this grief. She had her own life. Sure, she wasn't seeing anyone right now, but she had no problem getting dates. And her job kept her busy, she was always hustling at that small video-game startup, trying to get noticed as a talented coder.
The point was she had better things to do than listen to Molly whine about the same things over and over again.
"Don't be ridiculous," Rachel says in her tough but consoling voice. "I can think of nothing better than hanging with my bestie."
Molly laughs through her tears. "No. Really. I'll be fine. I'll order some food and watch a dumb romcom on Netflix. This will all blow over. You do something fun tonight and don't worry about me."
It takes a few more minutes to dissuade Rachel from coming by to comfort her. And when she's off the phone, Molly feels the empty space of the apartment close in around her, despite there not being all that much space in the cramped place. She wishes that she hadn't been successful in driving Rachel away. And then feels ashamed for the wish.
Sitting down on a rickety wooden stool at the counter (that is the dining room table, the kitchen prep area, and the place were all the junk ends up), she picks up the weird black contraption that showed up today.
When she'd arrived home from her cashier's job at Kohls, an Amazon delivery had been left leaning against her apartment door. It had been just big enough and heavy enough to require both hands to pick up. It was addressed to her even though she hadn't ordered anything in weeks. Although truthfully, she was a lot more surprised it hadn't been stolen by one of the neighbors than that she forgot about buying something online.
However, it didn't turn out to be anything she'd ordered. It was a gleaming black box about two or three inches thick and a good eight inches high and wide. In red digital lights in the top left corner it said, "What if..."
There must have been some glitch in the ordering system or a human error that routed someone else's order to Molly, so she ended up with this by mistake. Whatever the hell this was.
Other than it weighing a ton, there didn't seem to be much to it. Just a plastic box with rounded corners and those lit up words.
She flipped it over and saw there was writing on the back. It was also red but just printed on with ink or paint and not illuminated.
You hold in your hands the Miraculous What If Machine. It has the ability to transport you to any of the infinite universes in the multiverse. Think about it. Every choice you have ever made has spawned a new reality. Every choice EVERYONE has EVER made formed an individual separate reality, creating an unfathomable number of possibilities. Every conceivable and many inconceivable permutations of your life exists somewhere out there. Perhaps in one of these exists a life where you are happy. To go there all you have to do is ask: what if...?
She'd left it on the counter planning to ask Marshal about it when he got home. Maybe it was a toy linked to a video game or a cartoon or something. He knew about those things (about all he knew about it seemed sometimes). In the meantime, she'd needed to shower and change. She just got off a ten hour shift and felt gross and stinky.
Now, sitting with it in her hands, the words felt like an accusation. What if she'd been enough for Marshal? What if she was able to make him happy? What of he wasn't such a douche? What if they'd never met? What if she'd found Mr. Right instead?
Her face reflects back at her in the glossy plastic. She's still young. Still pretty. She could find someone else. Right? But she doesn't want the search, the dating, the kissing of a hundred frogs to find her prince. It's too exhausting. That was probably how she ended up with Marshal in the first place. She was tired and she settled.
And wasn't that what her life had been: settling for what was convenient because it was too hard to find what was right? Too hard to muster the strength to get what she wanted all by herself.
Molly closes her eyes and silently sobs alone in her shitty apartment. Her tears spatter the black box. But it's not only sadness that fills her. Sure there's no end to her self pity it seems, but there's also anger. Anger at herself. At life. At the world.
"What if I found someone years ago," she says to no one, fighting past the swelling in her throat and her clenched teeth. "Who loved me and took care of me and made me happy?"
She lets out a loud grunt of surprise.
The strange toy in her hands has begun buzzing. No, not buzzing exactly. It feels as if in it's relatively small compartment, a massive turbine has started up and is spinning, creating electricity. Enough electricity to power a city.
It is doing something. There's all kinds of lights covering the surface now.
She sees her words in the same red font as the what if: "I found someone years ago who loved me and took care of me and made me happy?"
She sees a number: "A72"
Below it is a strange graphic that moves at the speed of a blur, but she has the impression of stars and other celestial bodies. They flicker and change in sudden shudders like someone is rifling through pictures in a book. The number at the top changes with it, but her eyes can't follow the new permeations at the speed it's going.
Suddenly, it stops. The image becomes static. The number shows: "M94."
Below the image of what might be a galaxy are the words: "Parameters matched." And below that: "Transporting..."
Then, everything is wrong.
The room around her dissolves. It's as though the world is rapidly rotting on a time laps camera. Chunks fall away. Disappear. Until it's all gone and something new is in its place. A world behind her world.
Molly's eyes are dazzled by the sight of a different kitchen in front of her.
It's three times bigger and a hundred times more stylish. Instead of the second-hand white appliances, this one has top-of-the-line stainless steel and a six-burner gas stove. The cabinets aren't beige melamine with the doors nearly falling off, but a glossy gray plastic material. An artfully tiled backsplash completes the look. The counter she's at is twice as long as the one she sat down at. And it's a beautiful granite, not the stained porcelain tiles she'd rested her elbows on.
Her heart does a slow roll beat, giddy at the pure insanity of what's happening.
Has she lost her mind?
She turns around to see an apartment she's never been in before. The whole things is beautiful. Clean. Tidy. fashionable. It's like something out of a décor magazine. It's the type of place people post pictures of on Instagram and Pintrest.
What the hell is happening?
Perhaps in one of these exists a life where you are happy.
Could the box be the real deal?
Had she just switched to a new reality?
Did that mean she was in a relationship with someone else now?
Molly puts her hands to her face, holding it as though trying to get her grip on reality, but immediately feels something out of place.
She looks at her left hand. A ring. No. Two rings close together on her ring finger. One with a diamond and one a simple gold band.
Is she married? Who the hell is she married to?
Photos! There must be photos. Everyone leaves up at least one wedding picture.
She hops off the leather cushioned stool and heads to the living room, but is stopped by a door opening somewhere on her left. A small hallway leads to the front door (if the eyehole is any indicator). It opens slowly as someone pushes it with their shoulder.
A woman steps in clutching a laptop case and a large paper bag.
"Rach?" Had Rachel changed her mind and come by despite Molly telling her not to? But that was the other reality. Things had to be different here. She couldn't have switched universes only to have the same man problems.
But at least they are still friends here. It's a good thing. She doesn't know what she'd ever do without Rachel.
"Sorry I'm late. I got caught up on the design of the Milkwood Forest level. But I picked up Chinese food." She gives a little laugh as she lays her laptop down by the hall closet and tosses her keys in a tray by the door. "Too much food probably. We might be eating it for days."
As she approaches Molly, she says worriedly, "You okay? You got my text about being late, right? Please don't be upset, Babe." She gives Molly a quick kiss on the cheek, right next to her lips, then goes into the kitchen to unpack the food. "I promise, I'll make it up to you tonight. We'll open a bottle of wine, put on a fire, and have a nice romantic evening. How does that sound, Babe? Babe?"
Molly stares at an invisible point on the wall. Rachel and her are just friends. She has never so much as kissed a girl on a lark or in a game of truth or dare. She has no attraction to women and as far as she knows neither does Rachel.
What the hell has she done?
Welcome back! ^^
Thank you!
I couldn't help but think of "Button, Button" when I read the description. I even heard the intro text in Rod Serling's voice in my head. I think that's a good thing.
Big Twilight Zone fan too! At least no one dies with this delivery.
@DemonRose A kinder, gentler inscrutable button box. I like it!