Love on the Edge of Time

by Julie A. Richman

  I’m a member.

  Excellent. Jesse typed with both thumbs. Meet me in an hour.

  See you then.

  ••••••

  “Hey Red, you’re not on my schedule today.” Zac was walking past as Kylie entered the vast rotunda of L9/NYC. It was almost impossible not to gasp every time you entered the iconic space with its mythological figures painted on the domed ceiling above the SkyTrack.

  “Surprised to see me, huh, when I don’t have you cracking the whip.” Smiling at her trainer, the shock on his handsome face was almost comical.

  “Understatement doesn’t begin to sum it up.”

  “I’m meeting a friend,” Kylie explained, her eyes scanning the premises.

  Zac followed her gaze, which had landed on two men, his father, the owner of the facility, and a very famous bad boy of rock ’n’ roll.

  With eyebrows raised, he smiled at his client. “You are full of surprises today.” And then, “Have a great workout.” He patted her on the shoulder, leaving her to meet a client as she headed toward the two men.

  Seeing her approach, Jesse acknowledged with a smile, causing the taller man to turn in her direction. Kylie was struck at the man’s resemblance to Zac, older and just as handsome, she immediately decided it must be his father.

  “Kylie, you made it.” Jesse looked pleased.

  The older man greeted her with a warm smile. “Hello. How are you today?”

  “Hi. I’m great.” Kylie returned the greeting.

  The man turned back to Jesse, handing him a keycard. “Same door as you used last time.” He motioned with his head to the far right.

  “Thank you so much for this. It’s truly brilliant.” Jesse looked at the keycard.

  “Let me know if you need anything else. You should find everything you require in there, but if you need any assistance at all, just pick up the house phone and we’ll take care of whatever it is.”

  “Where are we going?” Kylie asked when the man left.

  Leaning in to whisper in her ear, “To a secret gym within L9.”

  “Seriously?” Kylie broke into a huge grin.

  Nodding, “Seriously. Is that not the coolest thing?” Jesse steered her to the door and swiped the keycard.

  Entering the private space, they gave one another conspiratorial looks like two kids who just hopped a fence and were going to explore the haunted house on the edge of town.

  Motion sensor lights lit the space. Gasping, Kylie took it all in, “I want to move in here. This is like a gorgeous apartment.”

  Retaining the tall ceilings and ornate moldings from its turn-of-the-century origins, the private gym had a living room area with couches, reclining chairs and tables, a large-screen TV mounted to the wall, sound system, fully equipped kitchen with breakfast bar and two VitaMix blenders for making smoothies, multi-stall and private bathrooms, massage room, sauna, steam room, hot tub and state-of-the-art exercise equipment.

  “Perfect, isn’t it.” Jesse looked around, trying to take it all in from Kylie’s first-time perspective. “I just need to call ahead or book it for times I know we’ll want to use it.”

  We’ll want to use it. Kylie’s heart skipped a beat.

  “I’m sorry I bolted on you at Starbucks,” he began.

  “I’m sorry that they got those photos of us.”

  Smiling, “Well, redheaded mystery woman, you’ve definitely caused me some grief.”

  Kylie’s eyes misted slightly at his words, not wanting to cause him pain. Ever.

  “No. No, no. Don’t feel bad.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it, before leading her over to the couch.

  “With your girlfriend?”

  Nodding, “Yes, my girlfriend who is shacking up with some guy named Nick on an island off the coast of Spain.”

  “I’m sorry, you must be upset.” Kylie was surprised the rocker was confiding in her.

  “From an ego standpoint, I’m kinda pissed. But honestly, it’s a relief not to have her around. There’s a whole stress factor to everything about our relationship, from expectations we have of each other to the public’s expectations of us. And right now, I just need to worry about me getting clean and staying clean.”

  Kylie nodded and Jesse went on. “Also, I’m a shitty boyfriend. Addicts and drunks are notoriously self-centered and self-absorbed.”

  “Did you cheat a lot?” she asked, wanting to know everything and fearful of the blatant truth.

  “Did I cheat a lot?” he repeated the question and looked Kylie straight in the eyes. “You are really direct and I like that.”

  She held her breath waiting for him to answer what was now his question.

  “I had a lot of sex with other people. I really didn’t consider it cheating, though.”

  “Seriously?” she laughed, wondering what set of personalized rules he had created for his life.

  “Seriously,” he was now chuckling. “Had I fallen in love with someone or even grown an attachment, then that would have felt like cheating, because my heart would have been involved.”

  “So, sex to you is what?” She was trying hard to understand.

  “Release,” he answered without giving it any thought.

  Kylie nodded. Note to self: This is not a guy to get involved with in any serious way. Raise walls. Engage force field.

  As if reading her mind, he began to explain. “Kylie,” he reached forward and took a long lock of her hair and let it run slowly through his fingers. This time, although she didn’t back away physically, she was emotionally preparing barriers. “Kylie, after a show I’m spent. I’ve expended all my energy, given everything I have to give. It’s a control thing for me when I’m up there. I not only have complete control over my own life, but also the surroundings and the energy and the people engaged in this magic with me. And that makes it very safe for me.” He laughed, “It is my circus. And they are my monkeys. It’s the only time in my life that I get to be the puppet master of all the variables. And I’m focused because it is my responsibility to deliver something that transcends just the here and now. And to create a moment that is alive with so much energy that it lives for a million years. Like light from the stars making its way to Earth. And that is my responsibility and usually I do a good job with it, because I really take it very seriously. But every so often, like in Australia, I fuck up. The pain becomes too great. And I’m lost and even the footlights can’t illuminate my way.” Stopping for a moment, he ran his hand through his spiky bangs. “When I walk off stage, I am done. And then the adrenaline leaves my bloodstream and I am totally depleted. Gone. So, when I sit down and someone hands me a cold beer and throws some lines on a mirror, I am kicking back and stepping out of myself. I’m kinda gone already. Next thing I know I’m inside someone’s mouth and looking at the top of their head. I close my eyes and I haven’t got a clue who I’ve been with. Half the time I don’t see a face.”

  The rush of emotions momentarily overwhelmed Kylie, rendering her speechless. He wanted to make everyone happy, relieve them of their pain and transport them elsewhere. “But you’re clean now.”

  “Yeah, and not on tour,” he paused, then laughed. “And celibate.”

  The conflict in her mind, heart and soul began waging a fierce battle. Was he like no man she’d ever met before? Or were all men like this and he was just the first honest one? It was hard to tell, but this conversation had pulled her too far out of her comfort zone, making the real Kylie want to shrink deep within her outer shell. As he shared deep truths with her, retreat was her response instead of meeting him with some of her own. She needed to steer the course back to her comfort zone and away from any nook the raw truth might reside.

  “Tell me what happened in your session.” Changing the subject quickly put her back on ground that was easier to navigate.

  Jesse’s face lit up. His eyes wide. Putting his hand on his forehead, he began to shake his head. “I can’t believe it happened. It was a memory from when I was three.
I’d totally repressed it because it was really freaking traumatic.”

  “What happened?” Kylie leaned in. They were back on safe ground.

  “I was three and I snuck down into the basement to watch my dad’s band practice. They didn’t know I was there and I watched his bass player shoot up and OD.”

  “Holy crap. That’s horrible.” Kylie pictured this little boy trying to make sense of it all. “What happened to him?”

  “He was convulsing and they took him out of there. And he died. The guy died.”

  “That’s not something a three-year-old, or anyone for that matter, should see.” Horrified, Kylie wasn’t sure what to say, as her feelings were now turning protective. And her next thought was, it’s going to be impossible to protect myself from him.

  “I was on the stairs and I wouldn’t leave. My dad literally picked me up and threw me against a wall. I thought he was mad at me. That somehow everything was my fault.” Jesse was visualizing the memory as his fingers absentmindedly slid up and down a lock of Kylie’s hair.

  “I think it takes time to process it and figure it out and to understand how to apply it to how it’s impacted other things in your life.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I have no clue yet. Pretty ironic that I’ve had a substance abuse issue most of my life. I can only think that I was trying to hide from this, keep it repressed and music and writing have been my release and my savior.”

  “I think the more you get to see, the picture builds and pieces fit and make sense.”

  “Is yours making sense yet? Have you put any puzzle pieces together?” he probed as if Kylie held the key to unleash all his secrets.

  She nodded, “Yeah, it’s definitely starting to. I had a really significant regression.” Pausing, she took a deep breath before being able to verbalize her fate. “I was going to tell you about it when we got made in Starbucks. I had just come from Claire’s and I was still reeling at that point.” She paused, and looking him straight in the eye, confessed her painful truth. “I starved to death in a past life.”

  Jesse’s eyes widened as his head snapped sharply. “Really?”

  Nodding, “Mmm-hmm. How’s that for telling.”

  “That is crazy. How did it happen?”

  “I was traveling across the Atlantic by ship, being sent to Louisiana to work in a silk factory. I became ill on the journey and other passengers were stealing my food rations and water.”

  As Kylie shared her tale she could see the emotion in Jesse’s eyes, gathering like storm clouds on the horizon. “Where was your family? They couldn’t protect you from the thieves?”

  Shaking her head, she looked down at her lap, “I was an orphan by then, so I was an easy target. I had been abducted. That’s how I ended up on the ship in the first place.”

  “Abducted?” he repeated in a ghost of a whisper.

  “I’d lost my last living relative. My brother.” Mon moitié. Kylie could feel the pressure at the back of her eyes as tears threatened and she thought they felt like the storm clouds bursting in Jesse’s eyes.

  “Wow. The amount of detail you know.” He was entranced by her tale.

  Nodding, Kylie searched for the words to share with him. “It’s not just what I can remember, it’s how heightened all my senses are of the memories.” Her nose twitched, as if just mentioning her senses overwhelmed the limbic portion of her brain with the horrible stench of sulphur and now it would forever be equated with death. Quickly pushing that away, she refocused. “And the feelings. Love, hatred, fear. I can feel them. They are so strong. How can I feel such deep love for someone I don’t know?”

  “Was it a boyfriend or your husband?” Jesse’s hand stopped midway down the lock of Kylie’s hair that he absentmindedly continued to stroke as if running a strand of beads through his fingers.

  “No. It was my brother. He took care of me. We’d lost the rest of our family, so it was just us.” Looking at the famous rocker, she continued. “My heart aches at the loss of him. This person I don’t know, who died like two hundred and sixty-five years ago. How could that be?”

  “This is intense, Kylie. The fact that you now possess memories.” His hand dropped from her hair and he grasped her hand. “It’s like you never thought you’d see someone again and you just saw him.” Squeezing her hand, he was clearly trying to process it.

  “But only a memory and I’m feeling pain from someone else’s memory. Not mine. It’s really overwhelming. I’m not sure how to deal with it.”

  In a move that surprised them both, Jesse pulled Kylie into his chest, wrapping both arms around her. “Know you can call me, day or night, Toots. If you need to talk through it or the emotions are closing in on you. Text me. Call me. I know what I went through with unlocking my memory was overpowering, I can’t imagine yet what it is like to unlock someone else’s memory that is yours.”

  Pulling her face off his chest to look at him, “If anyone heard this conversation, Jesse, they’d think we were nuts.”

  Laughing, “Well, then we’d better pray Schooner doesn’t have hidden cameras with recorders in here.”

  “Who?”

  “Schooner Moore, the owner of L9 who you met earlier,” he explained, standing and reaching for her hand. “Treadmills?”

  Kylie just nodded as she followed Jesse to the side-by-side treadmills. Outwardly, a silence accompanied them as they walked and jogged mile after mile. Inwardly, loud dialogues raged as they each sought answers to questions they were yet to formulate.

  ••••••

  “There’s always the possibility that she was walking down that street in Paris and saw the plaque and it somehow stayed in her subconscious memory.”

  Looking at Marshall, Claire shook her head in disagreement. She knew in her gut after watching and listening to Kylie recount her tale, and the detail in which she told it, that her patient was truly experiencing a past life memory.

  “Marshall, unless she researched it–and then had no recollection of doing so–she was relating a memory. Let’s consider some of the historically accurate details. To know that Bicêtre was a prison as well as a hospital in 1749 or that the accuseds’ shirts were stuffed with sulphur or that they were executed at the Place de Grève versus the Place de la Concorde, which is much more famous because of Marie Antoinette’s execution, is pretty remarkable,” Claire plead her case.

  “It is compelling. I’ll give you that.” The older psychiatrist acquiesced. “What bothers me here is that they weren’t just obscure people. There is a researchable history to the story. Have you been able to locate a Geneviève?”

  Shaking her head. “Not yet, but I am working on it. I’m waiting to hear back from an archivist at Saint-Eustache.”

  “It will be interesting to see what they come back with.” Moving on, Marshall flipped the page on his legal pad, a vestige of the past of which he couldn’t let go. “Any success with your star patient?”

  With a telltale squirm in her seat, Claire tapped her iPad screen. “As a matter of fact, we’re actually making headway. We achieved a first full memory under hypnosis.”

  “Oh?”

  “I was able to successfully regress him back to a traumatic memory from when he was about three. And it was haunting and harrowing.”

  “What happened?” Marshall encouraged her to continue.

  “He saw a member of his father’s band shoot up and overdose in their basement.”

  Looking up from his legal pad, Marshall’s trademark implacability disintegrated. “Did the man die?”

  Nodding. Claire offered one word. “Yes.”

  “Did his parents seek help for him?” Marshall was no longer looking at his pad.

  “Sadly, no. And what makes it even worse, they never sat him down to explain it to him, so this three-year-old somehow thought his presence had been the culprit. That he was responsible for the man’s death. He had repressed the memory.”

  “That is an unfortunate burden for a small child. Especially a sensi
tive one. So, he is actually punishing himself for this event through his own addiction.”

  Claire nodded. “It would appear so.”

  “Interesting.” Marshall flipped over the pages on his pad now that their session was nearing completion.

  “Very,” Claire agreed. “My self-proclaimed narcissist is, in fact, an empath.”

  “Not a surprise when you look at the lyrics he pens. Clearly the work of a highly sensitive person.”

  How did I miss it? Claire wondered. Was I just buying the rock-star hype?

  With a rare smile, Marshall’s gaze took on an almost amused look. “Now that he is successfully regressing, I look forward to seeing if he is able to access any pre-birth memory. Will there be any correlation to the magnitude of his personality and fame in this lifetime with past experiences? Or was he just a common man? I can’t wait to see what you uncover.”

  Leaving Marshall’s office and stepping out onto upper Fifth Avenue, Claire stood for a moment looking out over the winter’s bare tree branches of Central Park. Something was bothering her about her supervisor’s last statement, “I can’t wait to see what you uncover.” But she couldn’t quite put her finger on the source of her discomfort.

  Chapter 7

  He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and, in one sweeping arc motion, ripped the headphones from his head. The shock on their faces mirrored his as they entered the apartment.

  “Jesse,” Alexa Seurley, one of the most well-known faces in fashion modeling, stumbled on her words as she stopped abruptly in the doorway. “I didn’t think you were going to…” her words trailed before she completed her sentence.

  “Be here.” Jesse picked up without skipping a beat.

  The statuesque brunette, accompanied by a younger model and two burly tatted guys closely stacked behind her looked confused as to their next move.

  Standing up from the rough-hewn wood table, Jesse approached the supermodel, hand outstretched. “My keys, please.”

  Not sure what to do, Alexa, moved her hand down to her side, “These are Claudine’s.”

  “I own this apartment,” Jesse’s voice was soft, his tone even. “So, we can play this one of two ways. You hand me my keys or I call the cops and have you arrested.”