by Tyra Lynn
“My mom believed we all have some purpose, some reason for being here. Some of us are meant to be important to the world, and some are just meant to be important to a few people.” I wondered what my purpose could be, if I would ever figure it out.
He nodded his head slightly. “Do you think your mother fulfilled her purpose?” He asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe her purpose was just to have me, and maybe your mother's was to have you. We may someday be the ancestors of someone who cures cancer or something.”
“We may.” The way he said it sent a shiver down my back. There was an implication in it that hit me like a shock wave.
For a moment, I felt like I had been here before. I wondered if that’s what déjà vu was, being in step with a moment, a place, exactly where you were supposed to be at a given time. I’d had moments that were similar, where it felt like I was repeating something, words or actions that were familiar, but this was different.
“Jessie?” His voice sounded concerned
I looked up quickly and blinked a few times. “What? Is something wrong?”
His eyes searched mine, looking for something. “What were you thinking about?”
“Déjà vu.” I wrinkled my nose. “Everyone thinks it has to do with something you’ve experienced in your past, but what if it was more like being where you’re supposed to be, and something in your mind knows it, like it’s been waiting for it. Like it’s a signpost telling you you’re going the right way.” That sounded stupid.
“That’s an interesting theory.” He wasn’t mocking me. Surprise. “That could be possible, and it makes as much sense as any other theory I’ve heard. What made you think of it?”
I blushed, and that made me mad. “Because I felt like I was supposed to be here, right now.”
His eyes lit up, the melancholy gone completely. It was startling to watch the instant transformation, and I had no idea what it meant. He pulled my hand up, turning it, and placing it on his chest. His heart was pounding under my palm.
“And now?” He asked.
I was having the oddest sensations. His heartbeat seemed to double, not in pace, but as in two heartbeats, barely separate, but still distinct. My head felt light, and there was a memory in my mind. I knew it was there, but I couldn’t bring it forward.
“Remember.” He whispered.
I almost could. Something in me was reaching for it, that memory that was there but wasn’t. I was looking into his eyes, and it felt like I was looking into them over and over and over. It overlapped. Happy eyes. Sad eyes. Worried eyes. Smoldering eyes. Searching eyes. Always blue.
“Gabriel.” My voice echoed.
“Jessie. Remember, please.” My hand was still on his heart. It felt like a hammer, beating at me relentlessly.
It came like a glimpse.
CHAPTER XXII
Right now, I’m having amnesia and déjà vu at the same time
—Stephen Wright
Gabriel, holding my hand to his heart. ‘It beats for you.’ He whispered. Gabriel, removing a black cloth from his pocket, removing a watch, the watch from the mirror. Gabriel, standing behind me, his hands on my shoulders, our reflection. Gabriel, stepping through a mirror. Gabriel, pushing me on a swing. Gabriel, holding my hand on the sidewalk. Things that had never happened, but I saw them like a memory. Then it stopped.
My eyes focused on his. “I saw something.” I could barely speak.
“What did you see?” He asked, his voice sounding desperate.
“You. Over and over.” I could still feel his heartbeat. I heard his voice say ‘Please don’t forget me this time,’ though his lips never moved. “What did you say?” I asked.
“I asked what you saw.”
“After that.” I specified.
“I didn’t say anything after that.” His head tilted a little to the side. “What did you hear?”
“Your voice. You said ‘Please don’t forget me this time.” My eyes unfocused.
“But did you?” But did you? But did you? It echoed.
Flashes. Flickering images. Gabriel on the bed. ‘Stop talking and kiss me.’ It was my voice this time. “What’s happening, Gabriel?” I was trying to ask, but did the words come out? Could he hear me?
“I’m not sure. What do you see, what do you hear, what do you remember?” He was pressing my hand to his chest hard. “Touch my face.”
I lifted my free hand, placed it on his cheek. The flickers cleared, came more into focus. I was explaining what I could see, how I could see things. I was explaining my glimpses. I could hear my own voice. We were here, in the gazebo.
The tree. The carving. ‘I carved it for you yesterday. It’s a hundred years old, you know.’ Gabriel, smiling, kissing me under the tree. I took my hand off his cheek.
“Stop.” I whispered.
He released my hand, and I sat back, exhausted. “Are you okay?” He asked.
“I don’t know.” I needed to think, but I couldn’t, not clearly. “Can you explain any of that?”
“I can’t explain it all, but I think we have figured out what is happening. We just don’t know why.”
“We?” We who? What was happening?
“My father and I. We have been trying to figure this out for longer than you can fathom.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve explained it to you before, but you never remember, not all of it. You remember pieces.” He turned his back and walked to the other side of the gazebo, putting both hands behind his head. The gesture seemed so familiar.
“You’ve explained it to me before? When?” I was going over in my head when we had ever seen each other. The store. My house this morning. The café. Here. The longest we’d ever spoken was at my house, today.
He turned and stared into my eyes. “You saw me in the mirror. I saw you. That was the first time we ever met, essentially. How long ago do you think that was?”
That was Monday. Today was Friday. “Five days.” Wait. Had I said something about that to him?
“I’m going to tell you some things, things you may not believe, things you can’t possibly understand.” He crossed to me, knelt down, and took both of my hands in his. “All I ask is that you listen, and keep an open mind, Jessie, please.”
His eyes were hypnotic. That electric feeling was jumping from his hands to mine and back. I could smell his cologne again, and it was so familiar.
“The first time we ever saw each other was in the mirror at your fathers’ store.” I nodded. So he knew about that, I couldn’t argue. “I didn’t know then what you could do, but I knew you saw me. My father purchased the mirror from the owner of the clothier, and we took it back to his library. That is the room you always see, my fathers’ library.”
I didn’t say anything, I let him continue. “You took the mirror home and later fell asleep on the porch swing. My father and I traveled here, and set the path” Set the path, it echoed.
“We found this house. On Tuesday, my father bought it. He offered cash if we could move in right away. While my father worked on setting up the purchase, I went to your house. Your neighbor was playing the piano, and I walked by, singing. That’s why I tried it again today.”
I didn’t remember any of that, but it sounded familiar, like I’d heard it before. “You were on the porch swing. You came to see who was there, and it was I. You almost passed out, and it gave me an excuse to talk to you. You were going to the mall, and Steve was taking you.” That I remembered. Steve took me to the mall.
“I went to the mall and I found you. We had lunch, and I brought you home. We sat on the back porch for hours.”
I shook my head, “No, Steve picked me up, and we went to lunch.”
“Not the first time.” He said.
A picture flickered in my memory. Gabriel on the porch swing, drinking lemonade. It was like remembering a dream. It wasn’t clear.
“The first time, you did not go with Steve anywhere else. He took you to the mall and dropped you off, nothing more
.”
“What do you mean ‘the first time.” I clearly remembered Tuesday. That was the first time Steve kissed me. He picked me up from the mall. It was clear, not fuzzy, not a dream.
“The first time lasted sixty two days.” He looked so miserable as he said it. “My sixty two best days in a century.”
“Century” I repeated. ‘I carved it for you yesterday. It’s a hundred years old, you know.’
J+G.
Jessie + Gabriel.
“Who are you, Gabriel? What are you?” I was staring straight ahead.
“I’m Gabriel.” Gabriel. I could feel the name on my skin. He took my hand again, pressed it to his heart. “I’m a traveler.” Traveler. “I traveled here to you. I travelled here for you.”
I heard a distant voice shouting “Gabriel! Gabriel!” The echo sounded like ‘Caroline! Caroline!’
“Here, Father!”
He was still pressing my hand to his heart. It was beating wildly, irregularly. No simple thump-thump thump-thump. No. Like two again. Thumpity-thumpity-thumpity-thumpity. I just stared at Gabriel, his eyes boring into mine, willing me to—remember?
I heard Mr. Knight enter the Gazebo, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Gabriel's. I wanted to know what was happening, but I was also afraid. He believed he was telling me the absolute truth, I could see it in his eyes, on his face. Something in me believed him, but the rational part of me knew none of it could be true. I could remember the last few days clearly.
“Gabriel, anything?” I heard Mr. Knights voice.
“Something, Father, but not enough. Not enough yet.” He kept his eyes on mine.
“I could have been wrong. Perhaps I should have let you explain everything, each time. I didn’t want to shock the poor girl.” He walked closer. “Jessie?”
“Yes, sir?” It was polite. That’s what you say to be polite. I didn’t look at him, though.
He knelt down beside me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Can you walk to the house, dear? I think you need something to drink, a glass of water would be good for you.”
I nodded absently, still looking into Gabriel's eyes. I felt like there was something there I wasn’t seeing, like driving in the fog, knowing the road or trees or buildings were up ahead, unseen.
I allowed Gabriel to help me stand, and he placed a supporting arm around my waist. I was acutely aware of the feel of his body against mine as I leaned against him. Like it or not, I felt secure, and for the moment, he was both the stormy seas that tossed me, and the anchor that kept me from being swept away.
We walked toward the house. Gabriel and his father spoke quietly, and though I wanted to listen, I couldn’t make sense of anything they said. My ears roared like they were filled with fluid, and my stomach knotted into a tight ball. Everything felt familiar, that déjà vu feeling, but out of step. Out of time.
I didn’t remember climbing the porch steps, but when the front door swung open, I saw the stairs. My vision doubled, and my arms flew around Gabriel as I swayed, trying to keep my balance. I felt ill and dizzy for only a second, but a second was long enough. I made a mad dash through the rooms, jerked open the bathroom door, found the sink, and vomited.
I immediately felt better, until I realized I shouldn’t know where to find the bathroom. I couldn’t remember the rooms I had run through. I wasn’t even sure where I was in the house. I glanced around the small bathroom, and knew I’d lost my mind. That was the only explanation.
I turned on the water in the sink, rinsing it out, and then splashing my face. I didn’t have to open my eyes to find a hand towel, I knew where it was. I patted my face dry and looked up into the mirror. It swirled a little, and I had to refocus my eyes to see myself.
“Jessie?” A gentle knock at the door followed Gabriel's soft voice.
I took several deep breaths before answering. “Yes.”
“May I come in?” As soft as before.
“No.” I took a few more deep breaths.
What was I going to do? Something was very wrong here. I had the urge to flee, to find a way out without being seen. I would run all the way home if I had to. I suddenly wondered if they were doing something to me, some strange experiment. That kind of thing only happened in the movies, but someone had gotten the idea somewhere, hadn’t they?
Even as I thought it, I was sure it couldn’t be true. I looked around the bathroom again. What had I touched in here? The faucet. It wasn’t very old, and I had gotten no glimpse from it. The sink, which was newer too. Everything in here was too new. There was nothing old.
The mirror.
I looked back at the mirror, and it swirled again, something misty inside, but I couldn’t focus on it. But, I wasn’t touching it. How could I see something in it if I wasn’t touching it?
I put out my index finger and touched it to the glass. My eyes blurred and cleared repeatedly, like a camera lens trying to auto-focus. I added three more fingers, and then pressed my palm flat. There was a ‘swoosh’ sound.
Gabriel was looking back, but not seeing me. He was looking at himself, sadness in his eyes. Then my face, smiling, wiping under my eyes, turning to look over my shoulder. ‘Coming.’ I said. The empty bathroom, the door closed, a blue cloth on the sink.
I jerked my hand away.
There was a soft knock. “Jessie, please open the door.” It was Gabriel's voice again.
“No.” I sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes.
I could see Gabriel in my mind. He was standing outside the door, his forehead and palms pressed against it, eyes closed. I heard a voice, and I wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined.
“Gabriel, come away from the door, son.” Mr. Knights voice.
“Father, please.” Gabriel's pleading voice. “Please help me; I’m carved wholly in two.”
I felt him leave the door. I didn’t hear him move, I felt it. I crawled across the floor and pressed my ear to the door.
“Gabriel, she can’t remember. She may never remember, and we are causing her pain. You are causing her pain.”
“But she loves me.” It was a whisper. “And I love her.”
“She loved you. Let that be enough, Gabriel. Let her go.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“This is the last time. I won’t do this again. If it resets, if it goes back, I refuse to be a part of it.” Mr. Knight voice, sounding angry. “I’ll try to find the information about her mother still, it may be important to us, but I won’t help you interfere again. If it’s written, you will know eventually. If not, there is nothing you can do except cause her pain and destroy yourself in the process. I won’t take part in that.”
“I won’t go back.” Gabriel's voice, a hint of defiance.
“If you think so.” Sarcasm? I heard the sound of heavy footsteps retreating.
I leaned away from the door. Nothing I had heard made sense. They had to be talking about me, but what did it mean? I felt Gabriel move closer to the door.
“Jessie.” It was a touch, not a sound. “I’ll tell you everything. Come out to me.”
My mouth would not say no, even after my brain told it to. I moved my lips, but my voice made no sound, not even air would pass until I deliberately forced it out with all my concentration.
“I feel you there.” He said.
The air hummed, and I felt like something was pulling me closer to the door. I silently reached up and placed my hand against the door. I felt his palm come up on the other side, and I knew he was touching right across from me.
“If you can tell me you don’t feel that, I will walk away from this door and I will let you go. I will leave, and never come back.” The tone of his voice was different, bordering on terrified, but I knew he meant his words, and panic shot through me.
“Don’t go.” My voice sounded strange to my ears.
“Unlock the door, Jessie.”
I moved my hand from the wood, turned the lock on the knob, and scooted as far away from th
e door as possible. It opened slowly, hesitantly. He was on the floor, like me, on his knees. He didn’t stand, he crawled inside, and it would have been funny under other circumstances.
He closed the door behind him, pulled his legs up, and leaned his back against the door. The bathroom was small, but the distance between us seemed enormous. We were as far apart as the space would allow.
“I know you are confused. I would be, too, if I couldn’t remember anything. I don’t have that luxury. I would take the confusion over what I feel right now, though. I hurt entirely.” The pain was real; I could feel the agony in his words, even if I didn’t know what he meant, exactly.
I found my voice. “I don’t remember you, but I feel like I should.” There were tears in my eyes. I felt the sting.
“Will you come out with me?” He pushed himself up slowly, cautiously, and I stiffened. “This is your chance to try and understand. I’ll tell you everything.” His voice was soothing, coaxing. “I’ve never told you everything before, not even the first time.”
He held out a hand and I stared at it.
“They weren’t dreams, Jessie, they were memories.” My eyes snapped away from his offered hand, up to his blue eyes. “I carved a heart for you, in a tree. Do you remember the tree?” I felt my eyes widen.
“I wrote in your notebook. I wrote the words ‘Too old,’ because I listened to my father and he said give you one more day, and Steve stepped in.” He looked angry and hurt for a second.
“You are wearing the same shirt you put on the day you took the mirror home. You fell asleep on the porch swing.” I looked down at the white eyelet shirt.
“I pushed you on the swings in the park.” He continued.
Apex. “Apex.” I said.
“Yes, Jessie, apex. You said it sounded silly.” He moved closer to me, just a little, and I didn’t move away.
“I showed you how I travel.” I could see him in my mind, holding his fathers' hand, stepping into a mirror.
