“It would be better if you could forgive her,” said Cerise kindly, “Even though she has let you down a number of times.”
“Better for whom?” asked Addie. “What you’re showing me here is that apparently not only did I get kicked in the head by my mother in this life, she did it to me in other lives too, and that no wonder I had so many problems with my own kids. You heard what Lissa said—my mother was bad, I was bad, she would have been bad. There’s something to that expectation, you know.”
“Unhappy choices,” said Cerise. “But forgiveness helps.”
“Yeah, well I don’t think so. Obviously I’ve never had a decent mother in this or any lifetime. I’ve been screwed over.”
“What about the woman in the river?” asked Cerise.
“I don’t know that woman. And well, crap, Cerise, excuse me what with you being a high and mighty spirit and all, but crap and double crap. She hoisted me onto a river bank in the middle of the wilderness. I was what—two? Do you think I forged an axe, chopped down the forest, built a cabin, and what—survived to a happy, ripe old age? I was probably eaten by a bear. And more power to the bear!”
“You’re silly,” laughed Cerise.
“As far as I can tell all of life is misery. This life. Past lives—I can’t even believe I’m saying past lives—being dead has turned me into a hippie. Well, whatever—it’s all miserable—no love, no happiness, no good stuff. Just blood and guts, death and gore, pain and hatred.”
“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To work on changing those patterns,” said Cerise.
“Oh, yes, sure it is.” Addie scowled at her guide and continued, “I’m here because I’m your hostage. And if you showed me a life where I was a dog, and dogs are creatures that do nothing but give and seek love, well ok plus eat and crap, well if I were a dog, it would be in some foreign country and I’d end up braised pooch du jour!”
The woman from the stream sat facing Addie, once again as her mother. They both were dressed in well-made garments from the Regency Era and they spoke with cultured British accents. The mother reached out and took Addie’s hand in hers. “The most important thing is to have a happy life. Of course I want you to have security. It is difficult to be the wife of the third son, but more difficult to be married to man you do not love, a man who will never become your friend.”
Addie sat quietly, listening to this woman whom she loved and trusted. “I know I could marry Charlie, and we would be happy. But Lord Armstrong is so exciting, so dashing.”
“Yes, he is, but I do not trust him as I trust Charlie.”
“But Mother, you’ve known Charlie all his life. Of course you would know him better. He’s just an old shoe to me.”
“He will be a solid, trustworthy, devoted husband, of that I am certain.”
Addie nodded.
The winds blew and Addie flew forward in time. Her heart both leapt and hardened each time she entered the majestic Armstrong estate. Her friend Jane had married Lord Armstrong and existed in a world in which there was nothing his wealth could not provide for her. Addie was secure in her life with Charlie, although at any given moment she was more apt to admit boredom than love.
Each year Jane grew weaker, her dependency on laudanum more pressing, her mental abilities less acute, her marriage to the dashing Lord Armstrong more vague.
It was easy enough for Addie to allow herself to be backed into one of the hundred rooms, to allow William Armstrong to press her against a wall, to yield to the pressures of his lips and ultimately to lie naked in his arms several times a week, her best friend in a stupor far down a very long hallway. What was difficult was the ride back to the small estate where she lived in far less grandeur. She schemed and raged. If only she’d followed her heart. If only Jane and Charlie would drown at sea. If only her mother hadn’t forced her….
By the time she’d been his lover for a year, her mother once again sat opposite her, a gentle hand on her arm. “It is not generally known, but it could become known, and my dear that is unthinkable.”
“William is without a wife. That much is certain. My husband is more involved with the horses in our stable than with his wife. We do no harm.”
“You certainly do harm. You are hurting your friend, even if she does not at present realize it. You are betraying your good husband, whose only crime is dullness. And you are breaking my heart. I did not raise a harlot.”
“You should have allowed me to marry the man I loved, the man who clearly has always loved me. He would have made me a good husband.”
“How good a husband has he made Jane? Do you think her migraines began before that marriage? Had you married him, it would be you dependent on laudanum, and William would be dallying with another.”
Addie ignored the disappointment in her mother’s eyes, rose haughtily and spoke with derision. “I am a grown woman now, Mother, and I have no need of your counsel. Let me ring for your coach.”
“I don’t know who she was, but clearly she ruined my life,” said Addie to Cerise.
“Oh, do you really think so?” asked the guide.
Addie was drawn back in time once again, and she lay upon an elegant bed, beneath William Armstrong, who thrust deeply inside her. The rhythm was pleasurable and Addie allowed herself to feel the excitement of the moment. If she could experience death again in the afterlife, why not orgasm? She closed her eyes and attempted to arrange her face into a serene mask so her guides wouldn’t know what she was doing, but before the waves of pleasure could begin, both she and William were startled by the door being thrust open.
Jane stood, still in a stupor, but erect, a musket in her hand, and she took aim and fired, killing her husband instantly. His blood spurted out over Addie, who was pinned beneath him. She struggled, desperately afraid the next shot would finish her but then Charlie burst into the room and subdued Jane. He removed the musket and helped free Addie.
He was helpful and kind, but he wasn’t understanding. Her children locked away, forbidden to see her even for a last goodbye, Addie stood outside her own home, several trunks filled with her clothing, and nowhere to go. She was a pariah and nobody would even deign to greet her. No doubt her mother would side with everyone else, but she was Addie’s last resort.
Her carriage pulled up in front of the cottage where her widowed mother now lived, and as Addie was being helped out, her mother burst from the door and took her in comforting arms. “My poor girl,” she said kindly.
Time moved forward once again, and the two women were on a boat to America. She sat by her mother’s bedside, and held a weak hand. It had been a long voyage, and her mother had been unwell almost from the start. When the boat docked in the unknown land, Addie disembarked alone.
“Oh,” said Addie, “She was terribly kind. How sad she had to die.”
“And you still don’t remember her?” asked Dancer. “Look into her eyes.”
Addie looked more closely back at the scene, examining each detail of the woman’s face for a clue, but she could not recognize her. “No, I don’t know her. Probably the only loving mother I had in any life.”
Addie was getting better at recognizing the difference between the scenes from the past, something actually happening in the present, and those that represented other lives. There was a vibration to it, a buzz she felt, a sense of demarcation of where she was in the continuum of time. It reminded her of a psych experiment she once participated in, where she sat at a viewer and some images rapidly flashed by. It was her task to say yes or no, depending on the image, and soon she stopped looking, relying on pure sensation, some force below the surface. That was how she felt now, floating through time in present, past, and distant past in which she was other than herself yet very much there.
Now before her in a scene from some years ago, sat Esther Schlumberger in a wheelchair, clearly medicated. Esther muttered to herself, “Said he didn’t respect me any more, I’d lost my edge. Said I wasn’t a real woman to him any more, just a burde
n. Said I was nothing any more, nothing he’d ever want in his life. Said people at school were laughing at me. Said they all knew about me and Bradley having an affair. Lies! Said nothing but lies. No affair. Said they were laughing at me. Spreading lies and rumors. Said I lost my edge. Yeah yeah yeah, on the edge all right. Nothing like her, though. She steals everything then lies. Lies! Said I was nothing. He never really wanted me. Too old, worn out, nothing to look at, nothing to talk to, nothing to know. Bitch, trusted the bitch, never make that mistake. Lies! Said I did it deliberately to hide the affair with Bradley. How could there be an affair with Bradley? Nice boy. Good boy. Lies! Scheming little thief. Should never have let her in.”
“Oh look,” said Addie quietly. “She’s delirious.”
Esther kept mumbling, “Lies! Oh my poor girl. Should never have let her in. Oh my poor girl. Loved her. Thief. Oh my poor girl.”
“What is she saying,” whispered Addie, “It sounds like….”
“Look into her eyes,” said Dancer.
Addie gasped. She was the woman in the stream, the good mother. Addie’s face drained of all color and she stood, silent, afraid.
Esther looked up and out from the scene in which she had been a solitary player and she seemed to spot Addie, who attempted to step behind Long Feather. A whirlwind of color surrounded Esther and once again she stood before Addie, her hair sparking with blue streaks of electricity, her hands flapping inside the straitjacket.
She flew up and seemed to crash into Addie, who stood unmoving beside her guides. “You,” she shrieked in that ungodly whine, “I told you! They know all about you! Bitch! You stole my life!”
Addie transformed her fear into anger quite easily and she stepped forward and confronted the harpy. “I stole nothing from you. You had your life. I had mine. Our paths crossed. That’s all. So what? So what if you were good to me in other lifetimes. I was good to you. That’s all. So go back to hell where you belong!”
“I will never love you again,” Esther wailed, disappearing.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sometimes it was like watching a drama through a picture window. Addie’s life played out before her, beyond the window, and she peered inside, seeing it as though she were someone else, watching real life unfold in real time, each little action, thought, or emotion pristinely rendered for observation. The moments she had lived had been etched in time and it was as though they now resided in some sort of cinematic loop, replaying for all eternity. She wondered if they did loop, if these scenes existed whether or not she were watching, like some awful cable rerun, always on in some corner of the globe.
There she was, a kitten of a girl, climbing into Ted’s lap, snuggling down, all cozy and safe, clinging to the security of his embrace. “We’ll always be able to stay here, won’t we?” Addie asked Ted, as she had many times before. She gloated uneasily, looking around at the elegant Schlumberger home, of which she was determined to remain the mistress. “It’s right that we live here forever, don’t you think, right that Esther moved out, left it for us to keep, so we can raise our family here?”
“Depends on the divorce,” he always replied, nonchalantly, infuriating Addie with his indifference about their future. She cringed, and clung more tightly to him, worrying that perhaps he already regretted the choice he’d made. Shivering with terror, Addie looked up at Ted, hoping for some sign she would forever be secure with him, but he patted her on the arm much too quickly then resumed thinking his private thoughts, serving only to increase her anxiety.
Addie watched her young self ponder this issue, as she had done so many times before Uno had legally become her own. Like a cartoon character, a light bulb seemed to glow from the top of her head.
She strolled the walkways at school, careful never to bump into Esther. Her former mentor had become her nemesis and she knew only too well that the odious woman had been spreading lies about her, telling people she’d been a terrible slut and had entrapped a good man, ruined a marriage. It was obvious by the scornful looks of her peers, by the lessened grades she received. There was no other explanation why an A devolved to a B plus. The psych department stood where—obviously behind dame Esther, not beside Addie, the interloper, painted to them as a threat to their own ways of life.
“Professor Bradshaw, Professor Bradshaw,” said Addie, quickening her pace to keep up with her abnormal psych teacher, a gawky woman who seemed never to be able to navigate so much as an empty corridor without colliding with walls, doors, or other benign objects that to her were constant physical obstacles.
“I need your advice, if you have a moment,” she said casually. “I’m just so worried.” Addie launched into the tale of how Esther had pushed her together with the famous doctor, punctuating it with her tears. “And really she was just using me as
bait, distraction—so that he’d never know about her affair. And now I’m in love with him—but I feel so cheap.” A few sobs. A tremulous glance. She had won an ally.
Time fast forwarded slightly and Addie stood, shielded by a tree, and watched Esther shy away as some gossips repeated the story, mocking the older woman. Esther’s step had grown timid, her glances tremulous and inconsistent, her brilliance shadowed by embarrassment. And when Esther took a leave of absence, Addie finally drew a peaceful breath. No longer would she be the pariah of the school. She wasn’t the slut who stole the professor’s celebrated husband. She was the girl who saved him from life as the cuckold of a disturbed woman.
How much easier this dreadful review had become now that she had learned to stand and watch the scenes play, to let her life be a movie that whizzed by, without reinvesting herself in all the emotions she once had felt.
There she was at Ted’s desk in his home office, completing the work on her dissertation. He stood over her, like a proud parent, helping her with the homework, challenging her ideas, pushing her to be the best. She smiled up at him and was genuinely grateful to be in love with this wonderful man.
There she was, naked in his arms, his trophy in bed, young, firm, lithe, his sexual muse. But he was distracted. She had been his reinvigoration, the light that filled him with love and passion, but he was not focused, and worse, he was not erect. He held her gently as she tried to arouse him, but she could not even get his eyes to meet her own. Finally he spoke, “I saw Esther today.”
Addie clenched and sat up. “Why?”
“She’s doing very badly, really in a state of breakdown. Apparently she was asking for me and her doctor gave me a call.”
“Isn’t it enough that you pay for that rest home she’s in? Why must you still be involved? She’s out of your life.”
“A little compassion isn’t misplaced.”
That was the thing about Ted, always so cool, so calm. It was impossible to fight with him, yet left to his own devices he would never make the correct choice. Addie always had to step in and do something to set things to rights.
There she was at the sanatorium, visiting her predecessor. How odd to see Esther as she was then, not too much older than Addie was now. At the time Addie viewed her as an old witch, but in fact she was still relatively youthful. Esther scowled at Addie, and she turned away, but Addie grasped her arm and wouldn’t let her escape.
“No you don’t,” said Addie, “You stay away from Ted. He’s not your husband any more. You like it here, don’t you? Well, he pays so you can nurse your wounds in comfort. Keep having your doctors call him and I will pull the plug on that.”
“Bullshit!” said Esther, her eyes flashing with disgust.
“Just get a grip, will you. We both know what’s going on here. Damsel in distress and all that retro nonsense. Wake up, will you—these days nobody is interested in that rot. Be an adult, already. This situation is all of your own design anyway, and it’s not our fault it backfired on you.”
“Bullshit!” Esther raised a fist and feebly shook it at Addie, who didn’t even cringe.
“Look—just snap out of it. Get out of this place. Go to anot
her city, get back to work. You’re a smart woman. You could build a new life. Remarry even. I’ll see that Ted gives you a settlement if you want to leave.”
“Bullshit!” Esther’s strength seemed to be increasing and it appeared that she might actually propel herself out of her chair and clobber Addie, but Addie would not back down.
“We have a life now. A baby coming. Yes, that’s right, I’m giving him one of the many things you never could—the child he’s always wanted. And he will finally be happy. That child will complete his life, will fill his heart with love—in a way he never felt for you.” Addie stopped speaking for a moment, envisioning Ted with the child, bouncing the child on his knee, snuggling her and buying her dresses and toys. Ted would be so in love with the child. Addie saw them in her mind, Ted and the child together, holding hands, herself on the sidelines watching. And then she felt something inside her twinge ever so slightly, but she did not stay with that inner spasm for longer than an instant because there beside her Esther was snarling.
“Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit!”
Addie stormed out of the sanatorium, Esther’s shrieking a constant whine in the background, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.
Ted was solicitous beyond comprehension, tender beyond any expectation Addie had ever held of how a man might behave. She was not ill after the miscarriage, but he insisted on pampering her, on seeing to her pleasant but mostly unnecessary convalescence. And when sometime later, she again was pregnant, he was wonderful.
“He was the best,” murmured Addie to Cerise. “For a psychiatrist, he was very nurturing, wasn’t he? If only he hadn’t changed,” she sighed.
“How did he change?” asked Cerise, but before Addie could answer, the air began to twinkle as though a million diamonds sparkled there and beside her stood Mae West, looking radiant and ageless, wearing a velvet gown encrusted with jewels. Mae unfurled a hand, and a flurry of twinkling lights shimmered out over Addie and Cerise, which Cerise answered with a similar light show.
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