The Path
Wes hung suspended in the harness for the second time. The straps dug into his hips and shoulders. His stomach tightened as he remembered the truck spinning across the ice.
“We’re not going there today, Wes.”
“Huh?”
“The storm. I needed to calibrate the system to maximum flooding. That seemed like a clear choice. Now that we’ve done our testing, we can start at the beginning.”
“So are you gonna tell me how the hell this thing works? Or just throw me back in and keep making me relive the worst moments of my life?”
Voss folded his hands.
“This machine can render any environment your consciousness can conceive.”
Wes stared at him.
“English, Doc.”
Voss sighed.
“You imagine it. The machine builds it.”
“There. Was that so hard?”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Voss’s mouth.
“The goal is to find a version of the memory that your mind can accept. One that remains believable, but no longer traps you inside the same emotional response.”
Wes frowned.
“So I’m changing the story.”
“In a sense.”
“Sounds like lying.”
“Does it?”
“What else would you call it?”
“I’d call it practice.”
“Practice for what?”
“Seeing that more than one interpretation may be possible.”
Wes shifted in the harness.
“So I can’t just walk through a door and suddenly Theresa admits I was right all along.”
“You can.”
A grin spread across Wes’s face.
“Now we’re talking.”
“But your mind won’t believe it.”
The grin disappeared.
“Damn.”
“The simulation must remain coherent. Your brain has to accept what it sees, otherwise the experience falls apart.”
“So I can change things. Just not too much.”
“Precisely.”
Wes considered that.
“So what? Honest-to-God doorways? I open a closet and spend the afternoon in Narnia?”
“If that is your intention.”
Wes laughed.
“No way.”
“Though unless you and your wife were enthusiastic fantasy readers, I suspect your mind would struggle to accept the experience.”
“Damn, Doc.”
“What?”
“You could do some seriously messed up stuff in this thing.”
For the first time, Voss didn’t answer immediately.
“I assure you, Wes,” His expression shifted. Not amusement. Not concern. Something older. “You have no idea.”
The words hung between them. Then the moment vanished. Voss reached for the controls.
“Let’s begin.”
“You came back.”
Theresa looked up with a smile. She wore an old high-school gym shirt and baggy track pants. Her smoothie bottle sat open on the counter as she scooped protein powder into it.
Wes froze.
He’d hoped to slip back inside while she was getting ready.
“Yeah. Forgot something.”
“What?”
He reached into the fruit basket and grabbed an apple.
“A snack.”
He kissed her shoulder. Then the side of her head.
Theresa wrinkled her nose.
“Do you smell that?”
Wes sighed.
“Smell what?”
“Bullshit.”
She pointed at the apple.
“You haven’t packed a snack for work once in the twelve years I’ve known you.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
“Fine.” He raised the apple. “The receptionist likes apples. I’m trying to win her over.”
Theresa’s smile vanished.
“You’re an asshole.”
“I’m kidding.”
“You better be.”
She folded her arms.
“If you’re smoking again, just tell me.”
The knot in Wes’s chest tightened.
“No. It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“The truck.”
Recognition crossed her face.
“Oh.”
“It’s making that sound again when it starts.”
“And you couldn’t just say that?”
Wes shrugged.
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
Theresa rolled her eyes.
“Was that so hard?”
She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.
“I already booked you in tomorrow.”
Wes blinked.
“What?”
“With the mechanic.” She grabbed her smoothie and keys. “It’s been sounding awful all week.”
The knot in his chest became a fist.
Tomorrow.
The mortgage came out Monday.
He couldn’t cover both.
“You already booked it?”
“Yes. Do you want me to change it?”
Wes hesitated, his heart racing “No, it should be fine.”
Fine. The word landed heavily. Theresa gave him a look.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“After we drop it off tomorrow...”
She hesitated.
“Maybe we should do something.”
Wes frowned.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” She smiled. “Dinner. A walk. A movie.”
“We live together.”
“I know.”
“Then why do we need a date?”
Theresa laughed. “Because lately it feels like we’re just surviving beside each other.”
The words landed harder than they should have. She stepped closer.
“Nothing’s wrong, Wes.” She touched his chest. “I just miss you sometimes.”
For a moment neither of them spoke. Then she smiled again.
“Think about it.” She headed for the door. “And stop staring.”
“Staring at what?”
Theresa glanced over her shoulder.
“My ass.”
Wes smirked.
“Wasn’t.”
“Liar.”
She laughed and opened the door.
“Maybe I’ll wear that blue dress you like tomorrow.”
“To the movies?”
“The outfit matches the occasion, Wes. You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
She winked. Wes felt himself grin despite everything.
“Dinner tomorrow night. I’ll make the reservation. Wear the blue dress.”
Theresa’s smile widened.
“I’ve missed that version of us.”
The words hung there for a moment.
Just long enough.
Then she grabbed her keys and was gone.
The front door clicked shut. Silence settled over the kitchen. Wes stared at the pantry door.
I’ve missed that version of us.
So that was it. Not money. Not the truck. Not the mortgage.
Somewhere along the way they’d drifted apart.
He’d stopped showing up. Stopped flirting. Stopped making her feel special.
A smile crept across his face.
“Alright, Reese.”
He wrapped his hand around the knob.
“One ultra-romantic reality coming right up.”
And pulled the door open.
“You came back.”
Theresa stood at the counter.
Wes crossed the room and lifted her up and sat her on the counter.
She laughed.
“Well this is new.”
“Just felt like saying goodbye properly.”
He kissed her. For the first time in weeks, she kissed him back without hesitation.
More smiles. More touching. More laughter. The distance between them seemed to melt away. After a while, she pulled away, with her hands on the back of his neck, she looked into his eyes.
“You okay?”
He hesitated, then nodded.
Theresa sniffed.
“You smell that?”
Wes laughed.
“Smell what?”
“Bullshit.”
She smiled.
“It’s been twelve years, Wes. I know when something’s bothering you.”
He sighed.
“I’ve been stressed.”
The words surprised him.
Theresa leaned closer.
“I know.”
For a moment, everything felt lighter.
“Are you going to let me in?” she asked softly. “Or do I need to keep guessing?”
Wes looked away.
“It’s complicated, Reese.”
“I’m a smart girl.”
She squeezed the back of his neck.
“Try me.”
“Well... work’s been slow.”
“And?”
“And it’ll pick up. It always does.”
“Then why are you so stressed?”
Because we’re drowning. Because I’ve been lying. Because I don’t know how to fix it. His chest tightened. Instead he shrugged.
“I’ve just been worried about Nora lately.”
The answer came automatically.
The kitchen lights flickered.
Theresa froze.
The smile drained from her face.
“I just miss you.”
Her voice crackled.
The walls warped.
Then she was gone.
Wes slammed both hands onto the counter.
“Fuck!”
The kitchen dissolved around him.
She knew. Both times. She knew.
He paced. Romance wasn’t enough. Fine.
What else? Money. It always came back to money. The lies. The pressure.
The constant knot in his chest. Maybe that was the real problem. Maybe everything else was downstream.
He grabbed the pantry handle. And pulled.
The truck purred. No warning lights. No mechanic. .
The lake stretched out before them. Theresa stole a fry from his tray.
“I still think I would’ve looked hot in that blue dress.”
“You would’ve.”
“Wasted opportunity.”
She laughed. Everything felt lighter. No stress. No pressure. No secrets.
“Pass me a napkin.”
Wes froze.
“Does a girl have to do everything herself around here?” She joked as she pulled the glove box open.
The cigarettes sat exactly where he’d left them. Theresa stared. Then looked at him.
“What the fuck, Wes?”
Silence.
The lake flickered. The truck shimmered.The fries vanished.
“What the fuck, Wes?”
Again. And again. And again. The entire world fractured.
Wes stood alone. No kitchen. No truck. No Theresa.
Both versions had fallen apart in exactly the same place.
Not the romance. Not the money.
The lie.
He closed his eyes.
He reached for the door one more time.
“You came back.”
“Yeah.”
He walked up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Theresa studied him.
“You’re smoking again, aren’t you?” She held up the package. The one in his jacket pocket. The one that he had come back for.
Wes felt his heart hammering. Every instinct screamed at him to run. To minimize. To explain. To soften it. Instead he took a breath.
“Yeah.”
The word hung between them. Theresa’s shoulders relaxed. Not because she was happy. Because she finally wasn’t guessing.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“No.”
She stepped forward.
“I don’t need you to be perfect, Wes.” Her hand found his cheek. “I just need you to be honest.”
The knot in his chest loosened. For the first time in months. Not gone. Just lighter.
Manageable. Human.
The world dissolved.
Wes felt the familiar jolt as reality returned. The harness pressed against his shoulders. The lab lights hummed overhead.
His heart was still racing. But something else was there too.
Relief.
Voss studied the monitor.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“The first two versions addressed the circumstances.”
“But they didn’t work.”
“Precisely.” Voss folded his hands. “And the third. No change to the circumstances.” Silence. “And yet...”
Wes frowned. “Then why did it work?”
Voss smiled.
“It worked because the pattern connecting honesty with pain was proven false.”
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Beginning | ← The Anchor |
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Where the Light Is is a story about memory, guilt, identity, and what happens when we confuse self-erasure for love.
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