by EJ Valson
"It's OK. They're just going to check you. You were out for a few minutes so we called 911," Stacy explains, while softly stroking my hair to keep me calm. I'm suddenly so tired and feel so weak.
"Ruth said you had a small car accident this morning, so we want to make sure you don't have a concussion or whiplash," Steve says. I give in and decide to stop resisting them.
"We've called Joe, too." Ruth says, from somewhere in the shadows of the room. Fantastic, just what I need.
"Jag hoppas verkligen att allt ?r okej med henne," I hear a male voice say to someone in the room. My heart starts to race again. I know that it's Michael. He's still here and he told someone that he hopes that I'm OK. How did I know that? I must know this language?Swedish?
"Stacy, what's the date?" I whisper to her very quietly, so no one else can hear.
She looks at me, puzzled. "It's January 31st," she says.
"But, what's the year?" I ask.
She's silent for a moment. "2006," she answers, confused.
My heart sinks. I'm fairly certain that today is the exact date Michael and I first met. But I'm uncertain as to how I suddenly know that.
CHAPTER 39
After the paramedics arrive and check me out, they conclude I'm fine and just need to rest. Joe arrives shortly after to take me home. While he helps me put on my coat, I have a hard time looking at both him and Michael. Guilt is now muddled with my confusion. This situation feels completely unnatural.
Before we go, Ruth tells me to take a couple of days off. I thank her, Stacy and Steve and assure them I'll be back Thursday. Joe decides it would be best to leave my car at work, so Stacy agrees to pick me up the day I'm ready to return.
On the way home I sit in silence and stare out the truck window at the road ahead. I'm still in shock and feeling very out of sorts after this morning's ordeal. Luckily, Joe hasn't pressed me for details about the car accident or my fainting incident. But it's obviously rattled him in some way, because he insists on me sitting in the middle truck seat next to him.
After we get home, I climb straight into bed. Joe hesitantly heads back to work after I repeatedly assure him that I'm fine. I feel like my only option is to sleep. Maybe all of this is just a dream. Perhaps if I go to sleep, I'll wake up and be back in the life that I'm quickly beginning to remember-my life with Michael.
It's nearly 4:00 in the afternoon when I'm snapped out of a dream that's so real I can barely tell which reality I'm in upon opening my eyes. Something at my core is pressing me to go back to work and see Michael. My body is now longing to be as close to him as possible. My head is telling me that it's a bad idea. And my heart is caught in the middle.
My car is gone, so I have no way of getting to work and I know Joe would never allow me to go back today anyway. I'm now almost in a panic and feeling like I have enough adrenaline to run there. This urge to see Michael is no longer a desire, but a need. Maybe if he sees me again, he'll see us together, just as I do. Maybe something will happen that gets us back to the life that I'm almost certain we have in the future.
With this hope in mind, I hurry out of bed and head for the bathroom. I don't know my plan yet, but I know I'm going back to the office and I'm going back now. After quickly brushing my teeth, I slap on some makeup and attempt to freshen up. I still look terrible, but it's better than having bad breath and mascara smudges.
I rush to the living room to find my purse, before realizing that I must have left it at work. Perfect! Now I have a legitimate excuse to go back. I frantically dial my dad's number. When Mary answers, I hurriedly explain that I need a ride back to work to get my purse and car. After a few minutes of debating about my well-being, I successfully convince her to give me a ride. Within five minutes she's at the house and we are on our way.
"Please don't tell Joe you did this, OK?" I plead with her. "I'll explain it to him later."
She hesitantly agrees. "I don't know why you need to go back today, honey. What's the rush?" she asks.
"I left something important there," I reply. I stare out the window, recalling how Michael looked this morning. I could see youth in his face that I didn't notice the first time we met. He's handsome as his younger self, but I'm sure that he's even more-so in his thirties.
I smile slightly when realizing that he has his European faux-hawk haircut again-a style I haven't seen on him since we were dating. In the future his appearance is more professional and Americanized. Such a contrast from the guy I first met to the man I'm certain he becomes.
"Here you are, my dear," Mary says sweetly, as she pulls into the parking lot. I quickly get out and thank her before shutting the car door. Most of the vehicles are now gone for the day, including Steve's and Stacy's. When I walk into the office, almost all of the main lights are off.
The building is already very dark in the early hour of this winter evening. I move through the office gingerly to avoid running into anyone and being asked about what happened earlier. After turning the corner into the hall, I notice there's a light on in the Marketing department. I hear the click of a computer mouse, followed by typing.
Quietly, I approach the entryway. To my surprise, Michael is sitting at the desk, with his back to me. I want to say hello, but can't bring myself to. Sensing someone in the room, he quickly turns around and sees me standing there.
"Jesus, you scared me," he says, startled.
His reaction makes me jump. "Sorry," I say, completely embarrassed.
We stare at each other in silence for a moment. I'm not a person who is typically at a loss for words, so I'm unsure why I can't find them now.
"Are you feeling better?" he asks, collecting himself.
I detect a slight Swedish accent now. Suddenly, I recall that he only has it when he's been speaking Swedish for long periods of time. The more English he uses, the more his accent disappears-a trait that seems to amaze everyone he meets when they find out he's from Sweden, but has no dialect. How interesting that I'm so certain I know these things about him. It's likes something's opened up inside my mind and is slowly leaking information out.
"Yes, thank you," I say, blushing, while fighting back the urge to run into his arms and force him to hold me. "Sorry about scaring you. I guess I'm still a little off," I explain. He nods understandingly. The following moments of silence become awkward and I can tell it's making him uncomfortable.
"So, are you all settled into your place?" I ask quickly, trying to make conversation before he brushes me off.
"Yeah, but the people that live there are a little weird," he says with a chuckle.
I pull a chair from another desk and take a seat while he begins to tell me about the strange German student that hides out in his room and the Indian guy that eats beef in secret. As he continues to speak, I'm sensing that I've already heard these stories. Each time he says something familiar, I get a warm tingling sensation. It's as if my body is confirming that I already know these things.
As the younger version of my husband continues to speak, I can't help but think about how someday he'll have deeper laugh lines, because he laughs and smiles more in the future-especially after the birth of our daughter, whose face I'm starting to see in my mind again.
I believe in the future that his left bicep will display a beautiful floral tattoo, embellished with her small footprint and name. His chest will bear a retro tattoo of a deck of cards, with our initials, and a wedding band, which he'll proudly wear, will grace his left hand. I'm no longer paying attention to his storytelling, as I fondly envision all of these "facts" about future Michael. I don't even notice when a tear escapes from my eye.
"Are you alright?" he asks, stopping his story.
"Oh yeah. I'm fine," I brush it off, embarrassed again and trying to conceal my emotions. "I am just tired and my eyes water when I need sleep," I lie.
"You should probably go home and rest," he says politely.
"Yes, you're right," I agree, and stand up to leave.
"It was nice
talking with you," he says, as I head towards the doorway. I turn back to face him, but he's again focused on the computer screen. I take a moment to watch him. My heart begins to swell with all the love I feel for him. Choking back more tears, I hurry to get my purse and leave.
I manage to make it out to my car without being noticed by anyone else who might still be in the building. I briefly recall the car accident from this morning, and get a little nervous about driving before finally getting in. When I turn the ignition, the radio blares from earlier that morning. I gasp and quickly turn the volume down. I lean my head back on the headrest, take a deep breath, and close my eyes. It was hard to be without Michael when he wasn't here. But it will be unbearable to have him here, and not be able to be with him.
I decide to call Joe before he gets home and finds that I'm gone. During the somewhat tense call of him urging me to get home, I'm saved by the call waiting tone beeping through, giving me an excuse to hang up. I say goodbye and quickly switch the line over without checking the number.
"Jennifer, it's Astrid," she says urgently. "What happened?"
CHAPTER 40
I've always trusted in Astrid's abilities, but I never thought she would so easily "sense" that Michael was here. Though her call surprises me, she's exactly who I need to talk to.
On the drive home I explain everything, while Astrid listens intently. She decides that we should meet up as soon as possible. John is unfortunately out of reach, and she isn't sure she'll be able to contact him while he's on a trip to Mexico. I agree to stop by the next day, since I'm not due back in the office until Thursday. Even though it's important to meet with her, part of me wants to go back to work early and be near Michael again.
When I get home Joe questions me further about going back to work. He's obviously worried about my health and doesn't understand why it was so critical that I return to work that day. After apologizing and telling him that I will rest the next day, he backs off and we go about our evening. Later on I seek comfort in a warm bath, but silently begin sobbing as soon as my body submerges in the soothing water.
It's clear my emotional threshold has reached its capacity. In the span of nine hours I'd woken up to a life that I had resigned myself to, only to have another life-which I was quickly forgetting-thrown back in my face. The love of my life had reemerged from the recesses of my mind and became a real presence in my new world. The memory of my other child almost lost to me, had been resurrected. Most everything that I was sure really existed had reacquainted itself with my soul.
As relieved as I am to have these feelings and memories again, and to finally see Michael in the flesh, my heart is still breaking right down the middle. I'm presently imprisoned in my past, longing for a future that may never be again.
CHAPTER 41
The next morning I head to Astrid's as soon as Joe leaves with Olivia. He arranged to take her to school today so I could rest. I don't even bother to shower or put on makeup. I'm sure Astrid will forgive my appearance, considering the importance of this visit.
When I arrive she's already brewed a pot of Earl Grey tea and warmed some scones. I take in my surroundings when entering her home, and again marvel that it's always inviting-with a crackling warm fire, plush pillows and the scent of vanilla and lavender. Even though it's been a while since I've been here, it's still a safe haven for me.
Astrid invites me to sit down and explain to her again the previous day's events. I'm sure my rambling explanation over the phone was jumbled and overflowing with emotion. I begin my story about going back to work to see Michael, and do my best not to leave out any detail about the incident I had before passing out.
"Did you bring your journal?" Astrid suddenly interjects.
I remain silent, feeling like a child who has been caught doing something wrong. I shake my head. "I burned it," I reply solemnly.
Her eyes widen. "Jennifer, why?" she asks confused.
I shrug. "I didn't see a good reason for having it. I was getting to the point where I couldn't even remember Michael's name, or Stella's name, or any of the details about the life I thought I had before," I explain.
"Stella! I've remembered her name!" I say proudly, almost jumping out of my seat. I excitedly look up at Astrid, but she disregards my outburst and remains deep in thought.
"Honestly, I have no idea what to do in this situation. I can't reach John and I think he still has all of your recorded sessions, but it could be another month or so until we can get in contact with him. And even though Michael is here, I still can't get a clear reading of your life together. Or your life at all, for that matter," she says, flustered.
The phone rings shrilly, interrupting her train of thought. "Excuse me," she says irritated, and leaves to answer it.
"Oh my God, we were just talking about you!" she exclaims to the person on the other end of the line. I'm relieved to realize it's John. She relays to him a condensed version of what has occurred, with pauses and inflections in between his reply. I can only assume he's as surprised as Astrid was.
"John wants to talk to you," Astrid calls from the other room. I hurry to the phone. When I pick up the receiver, I can instantly tell he's calling from a payphone. There are sounds of whirring cars in the background and the connection is poor. I briefly imagine him surrounded by dirt roads, chickens and buses in the outskirts of a Mexico city.
"Hello?" I say.
"Hi?hi, Jennifer?can you hear me?" he yells into the phone.
"Yes," I respond. "Can you hear me?"
"Sort of...just talk loudly," he hollers.
I spend the next fifteen minutes practically shouting to make sure he hears me explain what's happened. When we hang up my voice is hoarse but my spirits are lifted, as John is again engaged in figuring out what's happened to me. He's now preparing to alter his travel plans to accommodate my new situation. Unfortunately, he still won't be back for a few months.
I learn from Astrid that John has headed to Mexico to attend a spiritual symposium about traveling souls- apparently I was the inspiration behind this decision. When he realized he couldn't fully help me, he felt discouraged and depressed. He wanted to explore the possibility of time travel, fate and destiny. When he checked the voicemail Astrid left him last night, he got very excited.
In the two weeks John had been in Mexico, he'd already participated in discussions with other mediums and past life regression practitioners about the religious practices of ancient tribes and Shamanism. These discussions led John to believe that perhaps I'm not the only person who has had this type of experience. With this thought in mind, he intends to do some additional research, but that will take time and require him to be out of touch as he travels to more remote locations. Lastly, John asked that I remain patient until he has more information and to not do anything hasty.
I understand clearly what he meant. I have no plans to leave my family and run off with young Michael into the sunset. But I do have plans to be as close as I can to him while the opportunity lasts.
CHAPTER 42
A week has passed since Michael arrived. I take every chance I get to go into Marketing and be near him. I do my best to hide my intentions and appear as if I'm not interested in him at all. After all, I believe this worked to "hook" him the first time around.
Astrid has finally started seeing visions of Michael again. However, the visions aren't clear enough to confirm anything. John has been in touch sporadically, but is not making much headway. He has asked me to start keeping a new journal of memories that are starting to surface now that Michael has arrived.
Unfortunately, John left his recordings of my hypnosis sessions in Washington, so we're unable to confirm if the memories I'm now having are the same ones that I revealed to him before. I'm grateful he did not have the same impulse to throw those away as I did with my first journal. ?
In another unfortunate development, Astrid has admitted that she wasn't present at every one of my sessions-she just made sure to be there when I wok
e up. Sometimes after I went under, she'd tiptoe out and perform phone readings in another room. I'm frustrated that she can't relay what I revealed under hypnosis. But regardless of my situation, she still had to make a living. And of course John can't spend his calling card minutes confirming my memories. So that will have to wait too. In the end I decide that it doesn't really change anything. Whatever will be, will be.
Stacy and I are back to daily chat sessions and lunch dates. She has started seeing someone, so the new guy is often the topic of our conversations-that and the two Swedish interns who have brought a new element of entertainment into her department. Little does she know the depth of my focus on the latter topic.
Bjorn, the second intern, is very polite-but corny in his humor. Michael comes across as stoic and often unamused, but he's a hard worker and very intelligent. I laugh to myself about this now, because when I first met Michael I thought he was a spoiled "Euro-brat." Clearly my assumption at that time was incorrect.
Michael is not the kind of person to fawn all over someone like an eager puppy when first introduced. He's friendly and polite, but often sits back and assesses a situation before jumping in to be a part of it-a trait I mistook for arrogance, but now understand to be thoughtfulness. I remember learning in my life with Michael that Swedish people are very friendly and social, but you often need to approach them first.
