Beyond Parallel

By Matthew Turner

ONE BOY. ONE GIRL. ONE INSIGNIFICANT MOMENT THAT CHANGES THEIR LIVES FOREVER.

Bella and Clark are two young twenty-somethings, finding themselves in a chaotic and crazy world. One craves love; the other avoids it. Will they find one another, or will a single what-if moment mean they never meet?

BEYOND PARALLEL is a contemporary new adult novel about life’s defining ‘what if’ moments. In the same mould as the movie, Sliding Doors, this NA Contemporary Romance flips between two parallel tales. One follows Bella and Clark as a couple, tackling new careers, small town living, and the prospect of marriage, kids, and mother in laws.

In the other parallel they never meet, flipping between Sydney and New York, young professional adventures, and cool hipster hangouts.

Set over a fast paced and crazy two years, this contemporary new adult journey demonstrates how a small, everyday decision can affect how you look, where you live, the people you love, and the person you become. We could all live a billion lives but are only given one.

Is life a game of chance, or are Bella and Clark meant to be?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Turner
• Release date: Mar 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310702280

Matthew Turner

Matthew Turner is a British Author who lives in a small town in Yorkshire, England. Having previously published three novels and a non-fiction business book, he wrote Beyond The Pale on the back of interviewing hundreds of successful entrepreneurs, authors, investors, and thought-leaders. Gaining a unique insight into areas such as mindset, flow, and personal development and gaining a reputation for crafting compelling stories out of other peoples’ lives, Matthew builds relatable fables for those looking to live a meaningful and purpose-driven life. As well as writing for himself, he ghostwrites both articles and books for other successful entrepreneurs and thought-leaders, in-between spending time with his two children.

Book preview

Beyond Parallel

Matthew Turner

Smashwords Edition

Published by Turndog Publishing

Copyright © 2013 Matthew Turner. All Rights Reserved

#whatifmoment

This one goes out to all the bookish types and coffee lovers. You are my brothers and sisters, and for this, I love you.

Yet I must thank a few other people, and indeed I would like to. I’ve been lucky to be surrounded by amazing folk in my life, and I’m very grateful for this. To begin with, let me thank all of my friends and family. I am who I am because of your influence, and although some may argue you did a poor job, I’m thankful nevertheless. My mother, father, sister, nieces, and close friends, I appreciate you every day, even if I’m too awkward to say so.

The same can be said for those who have passed under the famed gates of YMCA Camp Ernst. It’s here where I came out of my shell and discovered a more whimsical world. I’ll never forget the lessons learned here, and the people I’ve across have changed my life on so many levels. You know who you are.

I must also thank my wonderful editor, Susan Gotfried. Miss, you are a wonderful pen scratcher and great teacher. You didn’t only edit, but taught me some wonderful lessons. I have no idea what this book would look like without you, but I for one wouldn’t want to read it.

Huge thanks to those who have also helped edit this book somewhere along the line. My Beta Readers: Cat Millar, Laura Dennis, Tania Dakka, Catherine Richmond, Laura Davis, and Jacky Grice. You all took time out of your busy day to help take my writing to the next level. You are amazing people and I send a thousand thank yous.

Finally, I would like to thank you, the reader. I write because it helps keep me sane, but it means so much to have other people read my words. I hope they help or inspire or entertain your day. I hope you will reach out and share your thoughts with me. I thank you for being here and hope to one day repay this debt.

And with a final final note, I would like to thank my son, who at the time of writing this is still in his momma. You are my new inspiration and my world will never be the same. I couldn’t be happier to have such an amazing change brought into my world.

dedicated to my son, my shining light

Four people sit in a dark and almost empty restaurant. Each person has his or her own story, with the potential to live infinite lives. Each decision they make creates a new twist in their tale, each one holding an endless amount of possibilities. Yet each choice is unknown, and many seem insignificant.

Each person could live a billion lives, but is only given one. Is this fair? Is life merely a game of chance, or are some things a little more certain?

————————————————

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Chapter 1

Without a clue about what’s always been

The sun crept through the curtains and illuminated the old, dusty room. Shafts of light caught the dancing bits of dirt, the specks spinning and scattering across the worn, wooden floor. Clark lay in bed, his breathing still and steady. He rolled over; a crunching, crackling noise disturbing his sleep and bringing him to life. He reached behind, pulling at the foreign object and bringing it to his red and tired eyes. He opened them, focusing on the crumpled piece of paper and took in the words.

Clark,

You’re my oldest friend, and in some ways I feel bad about not saying goodbye. But we don’t do that, so you’ll just have to get over it because the time has come for me to leave. By the time you read this, I’ll be long gone (or more than likely waiting for a boat), but I want you to know I’ll always be here for you.

We’re travelers, and this is what travelers do. We travel, damn it!

You’ve done your share, but I have more to do. It’s time for you to go home and get a real job and pay back your dad (ha, yeah, like that’ll ever happen). Anyway, I know you’ll be pissed right now (and hungover. You were so drunk last night, lightweight), but get over it. Oh, and keep searching for that special something. You’ll find it one day, brother, trust me.

Your best mate,

Sam

Clark rubbed his eyes, although the fault lay with the text: too small, making it hard to fully comprehend the haggard handwriting, a sure sign it was Sam’s. He tossed the paper behind him and fell to his pillow, staring at the ceiling and trying to focus. His skin was tight and heavy as memories of the previous night spilled forward.

He groaned with the realization of being back on his own. It never used to bother him, but that was so long ago. Sam had become his constant, his partner-in-crime. Now he was alone in a small island town in Thailand, and the idea of getting out of bed and facing the severe heat made him shudder. Grabbing the pillow, he pushed it to his face. The white, dirty fabric impeded his breathing as the smell of stale sweat and beer made him feel light and lifeless. He knew the world was still there, but for a few seconds it was just him in a vacuum of space. No worries and no means to get up. A simple idea of staying wrapped up forever and letting his life sort itself out in the hopefully distant future.

Knowing he couldn’t hide, he rolled over, and, misjudging the size of the bed, fell to the floor, his head pounding as his knees hit wood. Another groan, this one echoing a few seconds longer, worked its way out. He stumbled to his feet and fell toward the small wooden table. Above it rested a mirror, his pale reflection filling it.

He fumbled around the so-called table for inspiration. Leaflets of color shone back, each one with a story to tell and the potential to take his mind off the loneliness. Among them, a bright green piece of paper with trees and blue sky filling its long, slender form caught his attention.

‘A meandering walk up the hillside with breathtaking views of the ocean below,’ stated the leaflet.

He looked back at the mirror, angry at the stranger pretending to be him, and exhaled hard. He needed to forget, to move forward and sober up. A walk, he thought, should help. A walk to an inspirational view, he decided, was not only a great idea, but the only one on offer.

***

The final hundred-yard-dash was frantic and vigorous. Adrenaline flowed through her legs, but her lungs struggled with the hot, humid air. Bella watched the final few passengers disappear onto the bus, the realization sinking in that she was about to miss the trip. Luckily, Alex paced a few steps in front, his long strides driving forward with purpose and reaching the doors with seconds to spare.

She reached the old and worn bus and flung her tired body up the steep and suspect-looking steps. Deep breaths flowed through her as she watched Alex prop himself up against the driver’s booth, motioning two fingers from left to right. She could see the driver’s face, all angered and scowling, but hard to decipher confusion from hate.

Two tickets, she heard Alex say, his voice low and slow. Please?

The driver snatched the money from his hand and motioned for them both to move down the aisle. She moved close to Alex, scurrying behind in a bid for his large, slender frame to protect her from the old man’s glare. What did you say to him? she asked in a hushed tone.

Nothing. I asked for two tickets and he just looked at me. I mean, come on, what else would I want from him other than tickets?

She prepared a reply but the ground beneath her began to move. Falling into Alex she clung, pulling on his shirt and moving closer to his sweat-filled back. Typical. No more seats together. I hate sitting on my own, she said, pouting.

The bus shook to life, violent bumps sending her stumbling forward. She was about to give up on the hope of sitting together when an old woman got to her feet, motioning for them to sit down. Wrinkles engulfed the old face, each bump and mound suggesting a story behind it. Bella offered her palm, both in gratitude and assistance to move along the volatile bus.

Thank you so much, Bella said, as the old woman sat in the seat behind and join a man with large headphones absorbing half his head. At least we get to sit next to each other. Even if this bus does look older than the both of us, she continued, this time to Alex.

I know, right? This is bad, even for Thailand’s standards.

She searched the vehicle and watched the other people wave their hands in a bid to cool down. She knew it was pointless; the humid conditions would become victorious no matter how hard a hand was flung from side to side. She looked back at Alex, his black hair resting messily on top of his head. His skin was much darker than usual. She’d grown familiar with his pale complexion, but the new dark features made him seem exotic and intriguing. She followed it down to his neck, focusing on the distinct line where white met dark. She was comfortable around him, but he seemed somewhat foreign. A new Alex, one she didn’t fully know. So, where are we going again? she asked, snapping her mind back.

It’s this walk up the hillside, and if the leaflet’s anything to go by, the view will be amazing.

Very romantic, she said. It’s a shame it’s with you really, isn’t it? Wasn’t the plan to find some exotic strangers to do things like this with?

He smiled, although it seemed forced.

Well, I guess you’ll have to do she mocked, waiting for his reply. Instead, he turned toward the window, his suspicious look shining back through the window’s glare. Hey, you okay?

Yeah, I’m fine.

You sure? Because you’re being quiet again. Just like last night.

Nope, I’m fine. Just hot, I guess. It’s, like, what? A hundred degrees in here?

She sensed he was hiding something, just as she had the night before. His focus remained outside, and his silence was haunting. Breaks in conversation were never his strong point. A period any longer than a few seconds would send him stumbling for words to fill the awkward moment. The last few days had seen these gaps become more constant, his love of chatter seeming to vanish.

Pushing the mystery of his solitude to one side, she leaned back in her chair and thought about the potentially breathtaking view awaiting her. Sitting on the plane from America nearly six months earlier, she had fantasized about romantic trips with strangers and first kisses with heaven-like settings as the backdrop. Most of her first-times were bland and uneventful, although she was always proud of her very first, a stumbling affair of clumsy arms and lips on a lonesome boat as her friends swam just meters away.

She didn’t know back then her love life was at its peak, that anti-climatic moments would become the only consistent thing to follow. Entire relationships were built up over weeks of hope and lust, only for them to crash to a sudden end and bring nothing but pain. The only constant she ever knew were her tears and Alex. He was always there, to hold her as the pain and trauma dripped down her cheeks and into a glass of half-empty vodka.

With hope for something new

A loud noise shook her awake, fear sending her scrambling out of bed in search of an answer. She spun full circle, still nothing adding clarity, and then noticed the empty bed beside her, the same bed Alex should have been in. She spun again, continuing her search before stopping at the bathroom door, the puzzle quickly piecing together. Alex, what’s up? Are you ok? she said, storming through the opening as Alex hung over the toilet.

He raised his face out of the bowl with small, stuttered movements. I don’t feel so good. I think it was that curry I had last night.

She went over, not sure whether to grab his arm or not. Yeah, maybe squid curry wasn’t the best choice.

You think!

She cupped her hand around his shoulder. Do you need anything? Some water or food, maybe?

No food! he snapped, grabbing his mouth and placing his head back over the toilet.

Okay, no food. Got it. Well, I’ll get you some water and help you back into bed.

No, I’ll be fine, he said, coughing. You have that walk to go on.

I’m not going on that. How can I leave you here looking…well, I can’t leave you on your own, okay?

I’ll be fine, and what are you going to do, exactly? All I’ll do is sleep and throw my lungs up. Do you really need to be here for that?

Different considerations spun through her mind. The idea of staying in the hot, small apartment all day was dreadful. Playing nurse and helping him to the toilet offered no joy, but leaving him to fester on his own didn’t feel right. She played tennis with the two options, caught between a rock and the sick bowl. Okay, fine, I might not be able to help, but isn’t this what friends are for? I may be wrong, but aren’t we supposed to be there in times of need?

His head flopped over the bowl again, raising slightly and showcasing a line of drool hanging from his chin. Yeah, for the most part, and I do appreciate it. I’m serious, though. I want you to go and have a good time and get some pictures so at least I kind of get to experience it. With a bit of luck, I’ll be better when you come back and we can have some dinner.

The whole situation felt like a trick, and although his decision seemed like the right one, at least for her, the feeling of regretting it later or becoming branded with the tag traitor loomed. Fine. I’ll go, but do nothing but sleep and drink water. I expect you to be feeling better later on, and I promise I won’t be late. I’ll go on this stupid walk, which was your idea in the first place, by the way, and come straight home.

Sounds like a plan, he said before returning his head to the toilet and making sounds Bella would spend the rest of the morning trying to forget.

She hoped she had time to take a gentle walk through the small Thai town and arrive at the bus with minutes to spare. Leaving the apartment and looking at her watch pushed the idea out the window and replaced it with sprinting the final fifty meters and lunging toward the bus as the doors began stuttering shut.

Climbing the steps was difficult, more so than she anticipated, and the disapproving scowl greeting her was enough to make her reconsider her plans and return home. One ticket please? she asked carefully, edging her eyes around the old booth in a bid to avoid the driver’s glare.

The old man said nothing, his tanned, leather face showing no mercy and demanding respect from anyone entering his world. He looked her up and down, Bella feeling his judgment taking place as if entering his bus was a privilege, despite the rusty scrapheap seeming older than her grandfather. One ticket? she repeated, this time offering a shaking finger as a guide.

He cranked a handle and released a flurry of noise before snapping at her palm and taking a handful of money. She let out a high squeak laugh and edged down the aisle, the driver disappearing behind his seat to start the ancient engine.

It kicked into life, the heavy vibrations causing Bella’s legs to wobble and buckle. She stumbled forward, lunging for the first pole available, and clung tight, dragging herself into a seat, missing it slightly, and climbing up in a bid to retain some dignity. She took a deep breath and straightened her back, her posture suddenly a conscious effort.

You okay there? asked the man sat next to her, taking off his large headphones.

Bella could feel the red in her cheeks getting darker. It began more pink, largely due to the sudden exercise, but she knew a deep maroon now filled them. Fine, thanks. Just one of those mornings.

The stranger pouted his lips and faced the seat in front, the sun catching and showcasing his blue eyes. I know what you mean. I woke up this morning and my best friend had left.

Really? I’d kill Alex if he did that—he’s the reason I’m on my own by the way—he didn’t leave, though, he’s just sick, but being on your own is never good. In fact, I think it’s the first time I’ve been on my own so far, she said with her last bit of breath, reminding herself to pause and inhale in future.

Is that your boyfriend?

Who?

The guy who’s sick…Alex?

Oh, no. He’s just a friend. Well, not just any friend, my best friend. But still—

Bella became lost in his smile, forgetting exactly how to act in the presence of a new man.

I suppose we can look after each other, what, with both of us being alone and all. I’m Clark.

Bella, she said, holding out her hand. I like your accent, by the way. English, right? she continued, embarrassed by her lack of composure.

That’s right, and you’re American, but if you’re from Canada, I apologize because I’ve got that wrong in the past.

Her anxieties began to ease as he looked at her. His blue eyes, along with his accent, provided enough reason to listen and forget about her morning so far. Memories of other English boys in her life bundled their way forward. The foreign exchange student she had kissed at sixteen, the barman in the student union offering no affection whatsoever, and the professor she decided was flirtatious, despite him calling her Emma on several occasions. Each one took her back to fantasies of her youth, listening to The Smiths and imagining one day becoming a wife to a rock star who’d dedicate songs to her and whisk her around the globe.

I’m a big fan of the accent. I’m sure you get it a lot, though. All my friends back home are obsessed, she said, hoping her small talk was improving

So you’re obsessed, are you?

She realized it wasn’t. Well…no…obviously not—

I’m joking. I like your accent, too. I’m no expert, but I’d say the Midwest, right?

Wow, yeah. Dayton, Ohio…any chance you’ve heard of it?

Nope, afraid not.

Yeah, didn’t think so. She noticed his dimples, a pair each side of his mouth, creating gentle wrinkles rising up his cheeks.

She considered her next move, when a sudden jump from the bus sent her hand brushing his knee. She was aware of the attraction she had for him and hated how her heart always became victorious over her head. At the same time, she missed the pounding chest that only a new romance could bring. She didn’t know what would happen, but suspected the afternoon would bring hot flashes, stumbling chatter, and things she would no doubt later regret.

Without eyes that see

The old bus took an hour to bounce its way to the foot of the hillside, each bend emphasizing its frailty. The gentle rush of air poured through the windows but offered nothing to ease the stifling conditions. The hot, wet air clung to the people trapped inside, the waving of hats and pieces of paper unable to control the constant flow of sweat forming on their foreheads.

The rusted house of metal slid into the car park and vibrated to a heavy, eventual stop. The doors began to open, stuttering along the way,

Reviews for Beyond Parallel

[a_tiffyfit · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Is the word "beyond" meant to be equivalent to the word fate? There are two lives running simultaneously as the title suggests, and what lives they are! Different in all implications of that word are the two characters that the readers follow.

Turner weaves these tales in such a way that it truly feels as if the reader is getting a peek into the actual, real people.Their angsts, their triumphs, their anxieties, the ups and down, the struggles, the joys, and their loves can be felt by the reader by the way this talented author spins this tale.

I bet numerous readers will identify themselves in these characters as they run through the gamut of emotions, all of us having had our own trials and tribulations and similar emotions in our own lives and experiences with love.

Beyond Parallel is a romantic novel which deals in the reality of life as opposed to a fantasy set out of time, out of this world, out of place. It manages the romance in the real life settings which more readers may easily identify with and therefore enjoy it immeasurably. You see the romance, the idea of fate, the realism, and the love of Clark and Bella, the way it ought to be.

The parallel lives for them are woven in such a way that the readers won't find out if they are fated for one another. It is one of those stories that is so seamless, so intricate, the reader will be eager for the end to find out what happens. It captivated me entirely. These two paths were extremely interesting and entertaining especially because they were so uniquely different. I am no writer and cannot begin to describe how much you immerse yourself in this story, watching and learning. The prose is contemporary and smooth-flowing without any glitches to kick you out of Reader Zone. You must read this.

[asigg44 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I received this book from the Member Giveaways on Library Thing. I need to preface this review with an important fact: I have a chronic pain illness, that puts my brain into an almost constant "fog". That being said, my review may reflect the fact that my illness is affecting it. I believe that this author is a very good writer; however, I was confused during this whole book because of the alternating story lines. I understand what he is trying to do, which is writing as if the characters are in a "parallel universe". I like the premise of the book, and I like the author's writing style. I had a hard time keeping up with what was going on, however. I also read the prequel to this book, "Tales from a Tiny Thai Table", which the author included as a link at the beginning of the book. The prequel did make it a little bit easier to understand what was going on. All in all, it was an okay book. I would like to read more of this author's books, as I did like his writing style.

[nickinickuhn · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Maybe it was just me, but at times I found this book hard to follow. I had to re-read and flip back and forth to see if I had missed something. I'm not a fan of alternating stories in one book. I just couldn't enjoy it, because I spent half my time scratching my head, wondering what just happened. It's not poorly written, it just isn't what the summary seemed.

[kmt01_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I received this book free from Library Thing to read and review. Before I began reading this novel, I did not pay close enough attention to the introduction, where the author noted that he had written a short prequel to the novel. However, before I go too far along, I realized this and went back to read the prequel, which was free at Amazon. Since it set the stage and provided some background on the characters, I was glad I did because this made the story make more sense. I found the concept behind this book fascinating. We all have had “What If’s”, only in this case the author lets the reader see what would have happened if the characters had followed through on them as well as seeing what the characters actually did choose to do. The author has kept the number of characters, their lives and such very simple, which is good and is probably necessary because of the continual shifting between what is and what might have been. In the book, I sometimes did wish that the author had made a better, clearer distinction between the parallel lives. Perhaps a new chapter might have helped me transition better, since I sometimes found myself a bit confused as where I really was, which story I was reading about. The settings were simple enough to not get caught up in what was going on or where you were as you read. Still, I sometimes did get caught up in just that. As the story unfolds, the reader sees how the four characters go through life as two couples live regular lives—or more, if you count the parallel lives in the book. I definitely grew to like Bella and Clark more than the other two characters, especially Beki, who seemed uncaring and distant. How different Clark’s two female companions ended up being! Finally, I though the ending was somewhat abrupt, though not all that unpredictable. This book was quite a good book, with a novel plot concept. If the reader is looking for something that is a bit different but with many well known themes and sub-plots, this one may just hit the mark. After reading this, I am curiously awaiting what the author will produce next.