“And be there to pick up the pieces when it all goes to shit?” Paige muttered sullenly from over her margarita glass.
“M-iles!” Bourne added, chuckling to himself.
Maya ignored the other two’s comments. “Looks like someone was binge watching Dr. Phil, Oz-man!”
Oz was confused. “How did you know?” he asked, not understanding the connection.
Maya popped her glass down and wiped a sticky finger on her napkin. “You’re starting to sound like a tv talk show host!” she explained.
Bourne saw his chance to derail the conversation. “I don’t understand, Oz. You’re like me. You don’t have feelings. How can you say you love Molly?”
If Oz had a face, Paige imagined he would have been smiling sagely. “I do. She’s my person. And it’s difficult to explain until you’ve had someone like that in your life… But come, we’ll talk about that and let the girls get some rest. After all, they are under orders.”
“Alright, Pops. But then I’m going back to Vampire Diaries. I’m right at the bit wher-“
“Lalalalalalala,” Paige started singing.
“What’s up with her?” Bourne asked.
Maya chuckled. “She’s only seen up to the end of season six and doesn’t want to hear any spoilers!”
“Oh my,” Bourne exclaimed in an accent and tone he was clearly mimicking from something he’d seen. “I didn’t realize you people still watched these arcane files.”
Maya grinned knowingly. “Oh, it’s a guilty pleasure of a number of people on this base,” she revealed. “Even people you probably wouldn’t suspect!”
“Anyway, I’ll leave you with this,” Oz continued, returning the conversation to his last point. “We may or may not agree with Molly’s choice here, but we should at least trust her. And if she is processing stuff, then… well, maybe this is part of it. And if it turns out that she and Giles make a go of it, well we should be happy for them.”
Paige pulled a face, the alcohol clearly kicking in and lowering her normal inhibitions. Maya nudged her and pulled a goofy face to pull her out of her downer.
“Ok,” Oz said, wrapping up, “I’ve got parenting to do. And I need to figure out how to explain different types of love to baby Bourne…”
“I’m NOT a BABY!” Borne argued over the connection.
Paige could have sworn she heard Oz sigh.
“Ok, later ladies,” Oz added.
And then they were gone.
Maya and Paige looked at each other again, processing the conversation.
“So?” Maya ventured.
Paige took a deep breath, as if to impart some newly realized wisdom.
“I need another drink,” she concluded, and shuffled off the sofa to grab the rest of the mix from the kitchen.
FINIS
Author Notes - Ell Leigh Clarke
January 7, 2018
Thank yous
As always I’d like to thank MA for his continued support in navigating the publishing jungle. Thanks is also due for him stepping up during my trans-America relocation and taking on the final punch of this manuscript. It was a huge help and meant that we could get this into reader hands weeks faster that it would otherwise have taken me on my own.
In the same vein I’d like to send a massive gratitude bomb out to members of the beta reader team who over Christmas peeled themselves away from turkey duties and family to skim sections of the books to fact check so that I could keep writing. Robert, Joshua, Charles, Ron… You’re the best. I’m so grateful to you and appreciate you volunteering to help so quickly. It was like a dream come true having the answers that were holding me back just handed to me on platter. Or in a slack channel, as it turned out to be. Thank you!
I’d also like to thank Trausti Trauterson, my cool Icelandic friend for helping name the university. For those who aren’t fluent in Icelandic, Skóli Uppstigs Academy means Ascension Academy. As you probably know if you’ve been reading these notes from the beginning, Trausti also helps with the supply of creative Icelandic (Estarian) swearing.
He also reliably informed me that the word we used: Dreifbýlistútta, means something like hill billy/ tit/ or boob.
Cracks. Me. Up!
Massive thanks also goes out to Steve Campbell and his incredible team of JITers for wrangling this manuscript so quickly, and catching typos and inconsistencies. You’re the best!
I’d also like to thank the ever-patient Joe Brewer for his expert editing and fixing my messes(!) with zero fuss and drama. Joe, you’re a gem. Thank you for everything you do.
And finally I’d like to thank YOU – the reader - not just for buying and reading this book, but for leaving your awesome (and often amusing!) 5* reviews. I massively appreciate your kind words both on Amazon and on our facebook page. You so often keep me going. I know you’ve been forced to wait waaaay too long for this latest instalment and I deeply appreciate not just your patience, but your compassionate support as I’ve been working through stuff. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. <3
A way too honest account
I finished listing off the cocktails of drugs I’d been taking.
Dr. Awesome, also known to some of us as Dr. HOTsome, leaned forward on the desk and put his head in his hands.
"I don't take them all, all the time," I explained.
He looked up with almost a glimmer of hope.
"Ok,” I qualified. “So I take most of them, a lot of the time."
His head went back into his hands.
This was the man who had pulled me back from the brink of total health collapse only months previously. My body had decided it was done writing at the rate of a sprint with the distance of a marathon. It had taken weeks and weeks, and all kinds of medical badassery, but it worked. I had been functioning again.
In fact, I had even been optimistic about the future. I’d been starting to think about expanding into my own series, starting a software company and getting back to a bunch of other projects I'd been spinning before I crashed.
But that was before.
Now, following a couple of traumatizing situations, I sat before him a broken shell, teetering on the brink of drug addiction to cope.
More than once in the weeks prior I’d been drifting off to sleep having taken fuck-knows what, scared that I wasn’t going to wake up the next morning. I feared my mother getting a call from some random police officer who had managed to track down my next of kin weeks after my death to notify her that her daughter would never be coming home from this dangerous land.
Granted I was somewhat stabilized since our previous meeting when I'd been bouncing along rock bottom.
But I was barely keeping it together.
"The painkillers help me sleep," I told him, trying to show there was some logic to what I was doing. "Coz the only reason I'm not sleeping is because it hurts so much."
He lifted his head from his hands once again and looked at me curiously. "What hurts?"
"My heart."
"Tell me more about that," he said. He already knew what had happened a few months before. He’d figured it out. I didn't need to tell him the story. Now, he just wanted to know about the symptom.
"Like chest pain," I said, trying to explain that it was physical.
"In your heart?"
I nodded.
"Stand up..." He came over and started pressing on my back where one might stab a knife if one was so inclined. "Does that hurt?" he asked prodding gently.
I shook my head.
"What about that?"
I winced. "Yes."
"That?"
"Yes."
I was nervous. I don't do too well with people being close to me. It wasn't that he wasn't safe to be around. Far from it. He's one of the few people I'd like to be around more. But while he was working on my heart, I didn't dare tell him it wasn't quite in my chest anymore.
It was in my throat. (Why? What were you thinking? Where did you think it was gonna be?!)
Breath
e Ellie, I told myself, hiding under my oversized cardigan.
"Ok,” he said, “I'm going to adjust you."
He stepped closer, explaining the action, and a flood of emotions ran through me. I froze, trying to engage my brain while dealing with all these feelings.
“Put your arms up, do this, then interlock your fingers on top of mine,” he told me standing behind me.
Ok, so this isn't sounding like a consultation in a doctor’s office, but it was nothing but appropriate and professional.
At least on his side.
I was a mass of emotions, vulnerability and a whole heap of other stuff I'm not going to admit to here.
What followed was a kinda James Bond maneuver - except I don't believe he was trying to kill me.
My ribs on my back cracked.
Emotion released.
It felt strangely better.
Ok good. Now I get to hug the doctor and then we go back to talking from a safe distance where he can’t hear my heart beating in my throat.
Or not.
“Lie on your nose,” he instructed pointing at the couch.
I hesitated processing what I needed to do. I looked at the couch. My mind spun. Do I take my shoes off? The paper is going to slip... my mind raced to process meaningless information.
I got onto the couch and planted my nose into the tissue. It smelled of chocolate. It was actually a small relief to hide my face and ignore the ridiculous stream of emotions that were running through my system.
He started poking around the area on my back where my heart would be. It was the same - pain all around the heart.
Fine everywhere else.
“Breathe in and then exhale,” he told me.
And with that his hand gently pushed the ribs in just the right place to elicit a crack, releasing another tonne of emotion.
"Fuck!" I breathed from under his hand.
It was a good 'fuck'.
And a surprised 'fuck'.
And it only hurt a little bit.
He rubbed the area dissipating the energy. It felt a little better. Like a relief, that the body hadn't quite caught up to understanding yet.
I got up, and the rest is a blur, until he told me to lie down again, this time on my head.
I figured that meant on my back.
He started inspecting the front of my chest around my heart.
“Say when it hurts,” he told me.
He poked gently around my rib cage. “Here?”
“No that's ok.”
“This?”
“No.”
“This?”
“YES!”
FUUUUUUUuuuccccck, I screamed in my head.
His finger stayed. Searing pain like a hot knife sliced through the pericardium.
I should have left it there but I panicked and burst into tears, lifting his hands firmly from my ribs and away from the wound.
Agony that I'd been suffering with for the last two months exploded through my chest, releasing in physical hurt and emotion.
I wanted to run. I didn't want him to see me like this.
And at the same time I knew I was in exactly where I needed to be.
When it all subsided, I was a mess of tears and mascara. And Doctor Awesome was there, being… well, Awesome.
What I didn’t realise at the time was that this moment changed EVERYTHING.
--
The next day I felt like a different person.
My heart didn't feel as sore.
I realized that that night I'd fallen asleep at a reasonable hour, rather than spending the time until first light writhing with hurt that the drugs would barely touch. It was a weird, but very welcome, sensation.
I rolled over to check my phone.
Mum had messaged.
My Nanna had passed away.
We'd been expecting it so it wasn't a shock. I'd been dreading it happening though - even though I knew I'd see her again soon. (Yeah, I maybe I need a shrink too - but yes I see people who have crossed over. A lot. In fact, I'm closer to my Gran now more than when she was alive.)
But the whole death thing can bring up all kinds of grief and before that morning I honestly didn't think my heart would be able to take it. Literally. I figured the chakra was collapsed and that was it until something changed.
And yet, that morning, I was ok.
I tuned in to see if I could see Nanna... but she wasn't around yet.
I got on with my day: did some consulting calls, a mastermind online group call, and called my Mum.
And I was ok.
Ok, so the discomfort wasn't completely gone. But it felt more like an injury that was healing than an open hemorrhaging gash of despair and excruciating pain.
I could barely hope it was real, but I kept reminding myself that it totally could be healing.
I mailed the good doctor. He suggested I write up my author notes today - possibly while things were going good …and I wasn't still resentful about him taking me off coffee!
So this is the account you’re reading right now.
P.S. It's evening time now on as I'm writing this, and I just smelled Nanna's moisturizer in my hand cream. She used to use Oil of Olay. She'd call it Oil of Ugly. Bless her. She was anything but ugly. I hope she likes her new place. I wonder if she's found Granddad yet... <3
P.P.S. I'm editing this for punctuation a day later and am happy to report in that Nanna popped in to let me know that she had found Granddad and all was well. :)
+++
Since then things have been on the up and up. Ok, so there was one debilitating relapse which took me out for 48 hours, but generally I think I’m on the mend.
I’ve barely needed any drugs so I’ve not been worrying about overdosing or wrecking my liver just trying to get through the night. Granted, one never knows when one’s time is up, but for the most part my immediate concern about my Mum getting that dreadful phone call is gone.
This really was a turning point.
Dr. Awesome, if you’re reading this, from the bottom of my (broken!) heart: thank you for saving my life.
And for being, well,… Awesome.
Here’s to the next chapter.
+++
Parties, Wine and Mojo
I have a party trick.
While some people have tricks they do with pennies and beer, or shot glasses and beer mats, mine is a little more... out there.
I change the taste of wine.
By charging it with energy.
From my hands.
Yup. You read that right.
Now bear with me before you start phoning round to see if you can get me committed. I know this is a little off the wall, but by the time you've finished reading these notes you'll know how to do it yourself.
(And that will really mess with your head if you're not already down with the woo!)
I showed it to Steve Campbell and his friend Bob when we were in Vegas for the 50Books conference.
Bob is a wine connoisseur. I figured that if there was any change in the wine, then Bob would be able to taste the difference.
Now, as you know I've been subpar for about a year now and I didn't know if it would work.
So, putting all attachment and ego aside, I set up an experiment anyway. Two glasses of wine: one the test, one the control. (As you know wine oxidizes once it's been exposed to air, so the taste will naturally evolve over time. Hence the extra need for the control. You wanna know that the change in the taste is due only to the variable and not the oxidation.)
Next you hold your hand over the glass, and then in the same way that Arlene will conjure a fire ball, you just focus your intention into the glass from your hand, drawing energy through your higher chakras so you don't deplete your own reserves. (Your cells need it to live!)
And whereas Arlene would throw a fireball, you're dealing with a glass a wine. You don’t need to go kung fu on its ass. You just want to kinda pour the energy in. Gently!
Regarding the intention to use,
I use things like "gratitude", or "love". Then all you do is hold the feeling in your body and then project it into the molecular structure of the liquid*.
Anyway, there I was sitting with Bob and Steve, knowing I couldn't even feel my own energy, but trying this thing anyway.
And long story short, it worked.
Yay!
Bob was adequately freaked out, and then resigned himself to not being able to explain it. Then the dinner continued.
But here's the problem that crept into my awareness. It took several goes and many minutes of sitting there with my hand over the glass (like a muppet, I might add). Plus, when I put my hands together I couldn't feel the force that would normally come through them.
I must say, I didn't think much of it again.
That was until I was at that doctor's appointment and I felt the kick back from Dr. Awesome's energy field.
When he left me alone in the office to organize some treatments I remembered Vegas. I remembered how I had struggled to work my mojo on the wine, and the lack of energy in my hands.
In the quietness I put my hands together.
Still nothing.
It was like my heart had collapsed and the energy was no longer flowing, similar to if an engine had just stopped.
But I could feel Dr. Awesome's as he reiki'd me, as strongly as if someone were touching my skin… and deeper.
Something was wrong with me.
I filed it in my head to revisit later. Later as in when my heart wasn't crippling me and I had some energy back.
So fast forward several days, and sitting in my hotel room in LA before heading to Austin, knowing that the manuscript and cover were being worked on and everything squared away for the move, my thoughts returned to the energy conundrum.
I'd been feeling better since the heart healing with Dr. A - bar a brief relapse which I eventually crawled back from.
So I put my hands close together to see if I could tune in and maybe even get it working again…
Bourne Page 21
