by EJ Valson
CHAPTER 32
The rain is coming down hard as I drive back home from Astrid’s. The sky is almost dark. Car headlights, brake lights and traffic lights are blinding me as I struggle to peer through the water streaming down the windshield, my vision further blurred by my tears.
I drive in silence. I can’t think. I can only feel. I am raw. I’m empty. I am hurting everywhere. Inside my purse my cell phone rings. I know it is Joe, but I don’t want to talk to him. I slowly make my way back to the house. What is the rush? I will most likely be with him for the rest of this life.
I pull in the driveway and step out of the car into the pouring rain, without even bothering to put on my coat or use an umbrella on my walk to the house.
“Mommy!” Olivia shouts, and runs to me for a hug as I come dripping through the front door. I force a smile and give her a light hug.
“Hey, Babe,” Joe calls out from the kitchen.
“Hey,” I say numbly.
Joe comes around the corner and looks surprised by my drenched state.
“You OK?” he asks, with questioning eyes.
I shrug as I slide my soaked shoes off and drop my purse to the floor. Olivia goes back to her cartoons without mentioning the water that has collected on her arms and shirt from hugging me.
“Don’t you have a coat or something?” Joe asks.
“I forgot to put it on.” I reply.
“OK. Well, go dry off. Dinner is almost ready,” he says, heading back to the kitchen.
“I’m not really hungry,” I reply. “I am just going to shower and lie down.”
Joe turns around with a concerned look on his face and walks back to me. I can’t meet his eyes, so I keep looking down. He lightly takes my hand, which is hanging down by my side, and tucks his finger under my chin to gently raise my face to meet his gaze.
“What’s wrong? You have a bad day?” he asks gently, his face full of concern.
I look into his eyes and take a deep breath. This is my husband. This life is the choice I made that changed my fate at some point. I have Olivia, I have my family and friends, and I have a man who apparently loves me -- even if I don’t feel the same way for him that I remember feeling for someone else that may not have ever even exist. But maybe someday I will.
CHAPTER 33
After my last session with Astrid and John, I grieved privately. I spent time reading my journal, hoping to make sense of what I thought was my life before this. After lying in bed for a full weekend faking an ailment, I decided enough was enough and chose to start over the following week.
I have since been occupying my time with work and going to the gym. Every time I start to feel a bit of anxiety, thirty minutes on the treadmill shakes it off. I must be having a lot of anxiety, because I have lost five pounds and my body is taking on a sculpted tone it hasn’t had since I was in my early twenties -- the first time. The new strength in my body seems to be feeding my mental strength as well, and I have come to depend on it.
Work has been busy with preparations for a large trade show the Marketing department is attending. When Operations is slow, I help Marketing put together promotional packets and booth supplies. Steve has taken notice of my ability to pitch in where needed and has mentioned stealing me from Ruth. Even if he’s just joking, I hold out hope there is some truth behind his words.
Olivia is thriving at school and home. She is learning how to read. I can’t recall her picking it up so easily the first time around. I attribute this to her preschool and am pleased that Joe and I made the decision to send her there.
Joe has been working overtime due to severe weather conditions. We have had a series of heavy wind storms and he has had to patch more roofs than one could count. Though I feel for him having to work in such harsh conditions, I appreciate the time I get alone with Olivia -- and to myself.
Today is Olivia’s fifth birthday. Joe finally has a day off, so the idea to have a big party with family and friends at a local pizza parlor goes as planned. I’m almost finished wrapping her gifts and Joe has gone out to pick up the cake. Olivia softly knocks on our bedroom door just as I’m putting the last bow on the biggest gift -- a doll house.
“Mommy?” she asks sweetly on the other side of the door. Her demeanor tugs at my heart -- helping to clear the traces of sadness I occasionally feel.
“Come in, Baby.” I reply. She slowly opens the door with one hand over both of her eyes and a big grin on her face. I giggle at the sight.
“Can I look now?” she asks. She loves surprises, just as I do, so I know she doesn’t want to spoil anything for herself.
“Yep, you sure can. Come sit on my lap.” I say.
I sit down on the bed and prepare for the weight of her small body. She is a healthy-sized child. She has never been weak or fragile in stature and is perfectly proportioned. I think about how someday she will be as tall as me in middle school. Won’t she? I hold her close and take in her sweet shampoo smell. She is my anchor, my beacon, the one consistent thing that grounds me into whatever life I may be living at the time.
When we arrive the restaurant is chaotic, with another party in progress. I ask Joe to order the pizzas and drinks and I head to a private room in the back to set up the cake and party decorations. Olivia has already run off to play in the recreation room until our guests arrive. I’m grateful for the busyness here, as it forces me to put on a happy face and distracts me from the reality that is now my life.
I’m putting out the cake plates when I look up through the partition window to watch Joe waiting at the counter. I take a second look when I notice a younger woman approaching him. I can only see her from the back, but he gets a big smile on his face and hugs her when he notices her there. I feel more curiosity than jealousy when I see that boyish grin sweep his face. He looks a little nervous, but very happy as he engages in conversation with her.
Joe points in my direction and the woman turns around to look. I’m caught looking at them, so I wave with a smile. I still can’t see her face clearly, due to the glare from the windows behind them. Joe signals for me to come over.
I put the plates down and quickly cross the restaurant towards him. As I get closer I almost stop in my tracks. Instead I get a grip on myself and slow my steps as I figure out how to act when I approach her. It’s Rachel, Joe’s future wife.
CHAPTER 34
The party goes off without a hitch. Everyone eats too much and Joe drinks a little too much beer. Olivia loves every present she gets and has a sugar high from the cake, but finally crashes in the car on the way home. I’m quiet as I drive. The radio is turned on softly, and Joe is humming along.
“Rachel looked good, didn’t she?” Joe asks me out of the blue. I am not sure how to respond, other than to agree. Earlier, when I met up with them at the pizza parlor counter, I followed Joe’s suit and hugged her too.
We were all classmates until Rachel moved before our freshman year of high school. I remember her as a friendly and warm person. Shortly after our divorce, she moved back into town when her grandmother fell ill. I assume that is when Joe and Rachel became friends again. When Joe later married her, I truly believed she was the best fit for him and I was grateful that Olivia had her as a stepmother. But during the party I couldn’t help but wonder why I felt so awkward when I encountered her. I wasn’t jealous, I wasn’t upset, and I didn’t feel as if I got caught with her husband. Instead, I felt sad for her.
In the bits of memory of the future I had left, she and Joe had a life together in Idaho. They had a nice home and two children. I feared that was taken away -- in what I believed to be my true reality -- and their happy future might possibly never exist. I felt in some way responsible for that, even if I didn’t directly do anything to cause it. And that set my mind to questioning.
If I left Joe now, would it change anything? Would they end up together after all? Olivia is so happy. Is it worth the risk? I’m too afraid to make any impulsive changes that could mess up anymore of my life than
what I have already done -- whatever that may have been. I may never know what that was, as I’m too afraid to pursue it any further.
For now I am moving through the phases of grief. Denial...check. Anger...check. Bargaining....maybe. Depression...definitely. Acceptance...we’ll see.
CHAPTER 35
This last week of January has crept by. The Marketing department is away at a tradeshow and I’m left with nothing to do but pace myself at work so I won’t die of boredom. I cannot wait until Stacy is back and I will have a friend to chat with again.
In the days since Olivia’s party I have managed to convince myself that I need to commit to this life I’m living. Joe is a good dad, and in his own way a good husband. The guilt I felt after seeing Rachel has lessened. I can’t change anything and I can’t force something to happen that may never have happened anyway.
One night I decided to burn my journal in our fireplace. There is no point in keeping it any longer. John still has the recordings from our sessions, even though he offered them to me at our last visit. I didn’t see the point in listening through them anyway. It would just add to my confusion and make me long for something that was disappearing from my memory more and more each day.
When I sleep I now dream about my job, Olivia, and sometimes Joe. I don’t see the man in the shadows so much anymore, or the little girl. In fact, the other day I actually forgot her name. It took me an hour to come up with a name that sounded right.
In my downtime at work I research past life regression, future life progression, and even time travel. Most of it seems like a bunch of hocus pocus and it confuses me. The conclusion I have come to -- for my peace of mind -- is that I must have had a vivid premonition of what could have been. It must have been so real that it shocked my subconscious and caused me to believe that I actually lived that life. I speculate if it was the medication or the panic attacks that allowed this fantasy to get so elaborate that I believed it. I may never know.
My office phone rings around 1:00 p.m., snapping me out of my thoughts. “Sound and Clear, this is Jenni,” I say politely.
“Hey Jen. It’s Steve,” Steve replies.
“Hi! How is California?” I ask, happy to hear a friendly voice.
“Great! Can you do me a big favor?” he answers back.
“Sure. What’s up?” I respond, grabbing a sticky note and piece of paper.
“I just got a call from the internship program. The Marketing interns will definitely be arriving on Monday. Stacy ran out of time to get their housing arranged. If I give you the info, can you contact the house on campus and finalize everything?”
Something in my gut pulls at this request, but I am not sure why. Sound and Clear has always employed interns for Engineering and Marketing, so this wasn’t anything unusual. However, for some reason butterflies are lightly swirling in my stomach. Maybe I’m nervous about the task at hand, I rationalize.
I take down the information and hang up. I quickly dial the number Steve gave me and arrange to meet the housing manager that afternoon to sign paperwork and provide her with the deposit. At 3:00 p.m. I tell Ruth I have to go. I follow the directions I printed online to locate an old fraternity house that now offers housing for international and low income students.
After I find a parking spot, I make my way to the back entrance of the house --as instructed. When I slowly open the door that leads into a large, communal kitchen I’m greeted immediately by the smell of must and old food.
The house is quiet and there is no sign of life in the main area. I peek into a hall entrance to see if there is anyone around. I feel as if I shouldn’t be here, but at the same time I feel as if I have been here before. I question if perhaps I was here for the brief period of time when I worked in property management.
I notice a door to my left that looks like it leads to the basement. A sign reads “Manager, downstairs 1B.” I’m relieved to know where I am going now. I carefully make my way down the old wooden stairs to the fluorescent-lit basement that holds two sets of washers and dryers and a stack of old mattresses.
I find the manager’s door on my right and knock lightly. I hear the doorknob being unlocked, then the door opens very slightly so the person on the other side can just barely see me. There is a plain-looking brunette peering through the slit in the doorway.
“Hi,” I say. “I’m Jenni. We talked on the phone about the two rooms we need on Monday.”
She opens the door a bit wider to let herself out and shuts it behind her quickly, but not before I see that her room is filled with stuffed animals. Odd, I think, for a woman her age.
She seems awkward, but is smiling nevertheless. “Oh, Hi. Thanks for coming so soon. I’m Tonya,” she says, extending her hand. Her handshake is weak, but the offer is kind.
After a quick exchange of paperwork and the deposit, she hands me the keys. I thank her and head back up the stairs. When I reach the top I pause, turn to my left and take another look around the kitchen. It is ugly and bare and smells like stale cooking oil. But it is oddly familiar.
CHAPTER 36
It’s a hot summer day. We are in a field of tall, green grass. The sun is setting. I watch my step as I follow him. The blinding sun makes it hard to see where he is going. His silhouette slips in and out of the shadows and light. I don’t know where we are going or why, but I follow him anyway -- whoever he is.
I am tired, so I slow down to catch my breath. My legs feel heavy and I’m thirsty. “Wait,” I call out between breaths. It takes so much effort to get the word out. The figure stops, but he doesn’t turn around. After catching my breath, I stand up straight. I notice that the air has suddenly become quiet. No bird song, no sound of the breeze, nothing.
“Who...are…you?” I force out. The figure doesn’t move, nor speak. Instead, it fades away. The air is cold now. It is dark. I hear the rain.
CHAPTER 37
The buzz of the alarm clock unkindly wakes me from my slumber. I’m not ready for this week because I know it will be chaotic, with Marketing returning from their trip. I committed to help them unpack from the show -- an offer I now regret, after having helped them pack to go.
“Hey there, Sunshine,” Joe says sarcastically, as he enters the room and puts on his work boots.
I roll my eyes in irritation.
“You were quite vocal last night,” he says.
What the hell does that mean, I wonder.
“I have never heard you talk in your sleep before,” he continues, “but you were saying ‘wait’ and it woke me up.”
I sit up and grumble, shrugging off his comment. I can’t remember what I dreamed about, so it doesn’t make any difference to me. I hear Joe grab his keys. He quickly kisses me on the cheek and exits. “Love ya,” he says from down the hall.
I hurry to get ready and make myself look the opposite of how I feel. I’m in a bad mood and I don’t know why, but I am trying to snap out of it. Olivia decides to be picky about the pants she is wearing this morning and won’t cooperate. I am starting to run late and my patience is wearing thin.
After fighting with her about wearing jeans due to the cold weather, I concede, and she is now in capris in the winter. I quickly make my way to her preschool, drop her off, and then remember I have to drive into town before work and get more coffee creamer for the office.
I make a quick stop at the mini-mart that’s on the way and pull into the hectic lines of commuter traffic. A school bus and dump truck are competing for spots at the red light and I know that regardless of which lane I choose, I’m going to move at a snail’s pace.
I decide to turn up the radio and sing a long, hoping that doing so will clear my bad mood. Ironically, a song about having a bad day is playing. It appears this will be my theme song today. Traffic is still creeping along. I look to my left at a taxicab that just cut off another car behind me, only to get stuck in the lane next to me.
It’s rare to see a taxicab at this time of morning. They are usually more commonly used to tr
ansport drunken college students home from the bars at night. The light turns green and the left lane moves faster. As the taxi passes me, I get a glimpse of the passenger in the backseat and jam on my brakes. I’m jostled hard, as I feel the slam from behind and my head snaps backwards. “Shit!” I yell out loud.
Shaking, I take a minute to collect myself. The cab is gone while I am at a standstill. I look in the rearview mirror. The driver that hit me has gotten out of his car and is preparing to come up to my window. I’m pretty sure it is his fault because he rear-ended me, but I don’t know why I stopped so suddenly.
