by EJ Valson
“Uh oh,” I say to Michael, when he notices their absence as well.
“Great,” he says sarcastically. “Lewis has a tendency to get clingy, so this might not be ideal,” he explains. I nod in understanding.
“Well, I should be heading back to my mom’s now. Her dog needs to go out,” I say. I don’t want to leave, but I can’t shirk my responsibilities.
“OK, I will walk you home,” he says, rising. He grabs his sweater from the back of a chair as I head to the front door. I suddenly feel something drape the back of my shoulders, which startles me. I grab my shoulder and feel his sweater. “It’s cold outside,” he remarks. I smile.
We quietly make our way down the sidewalk. The night is very still. The houses are dark. Occasionally a glow of a television beams from a bedroom. I hear crickets and frogs from the nearby wetlands. We say nothing as we walk. We are both content with hearing the night noises and feeling the cool brisk air.
We arrive quicker to my mom’s house than I anticipated. “Do you mind if I use the bathroom?” Michael asks, as I unlock the front door.
“Go right ahead,” I say, walking inside.
The dog quickly makes her way to greet us, wagging her tail and sniffing Michael’s legs. He kneels down to her level and pets her. She nuzzles his chin and gives it a quick lick, which makes him laugh.
“Sweet dog,” he says.
“The bathroom’s the first door on the left,” I say, while taking off my shoes. He slips his off as well and makes his way down the hall.
While he is in the bathroom, I wonder if he took his shoes off to stay or if it is habit. I realize he did this at Stacy’s too, so there may be nothing behind it. I’m almost certain it is common courtesy in Sweden.
I walk to the kitchen and grab a glass for water. My throat is sore from all the laughing and talking. I hear the toilet flush, the sink turn on and off and the lock unlock. Michael meanders to the kitchen, taking time to look at the artwork and pictures on the wall.
“Do you want some water?” I ask.
“Yes, thanks,” he says while casually walking towards a picture of me on the mantel. “Pretty,” he say’s holding it up to show me.
I blush. It is my senior picture and one that I actually like and don’t mind it being out. I was so young, flawless and unaware. “Thanks,” I say, while handing him a glass of water.
“Is this your mom?” he asks, while picking up a picture of her and her husband at the beach.
“Yep, that’s my mom and stepdad,” I reply, sitting down on the couch.
“I bet you were a cute kid,” he says.
“I was. Wanna see?” I tease.
“Humble too,” he jokes.
I get up and open the cabinet under the television stand. Inside is a box of old pictures my mom keeps close by, as Olivia likes to take them out and look through them when we visit.
“Wow, that’s a heavy box,” he says, taking it from me and sitting down on the couch. Before I get a chance to sit next to him he has already opened the box and taken a stack of pictures out. “Cute,” he says, showing me a picture of my three year-old self in a pink tutu and orange bathing suit.
I smile. “I really wanted to be a ballerina when I was little,” I explain.
For the next thirty minutes we sit close together on the couch and rifle through my childhood memories. I point out family members and tell him about places we went, friends I had. He listens intently, making occasional eye contact, but mostly just studies the pictures.
“It’s funny. In some of these pictures, you look familiar,” he says unexpectedly. “You look like someone I know, but I can’t place it. Maybe like a girl I grew up with, I think. It’s sort of strange,” he shrugs it off.
I catch my breath. I don’t know what to say. Could it be that he remembers looking at these, or something is resonating with him? Of course he would have seen all these pictures at some point in our future, but that hasn’t happened yet, so how could he recognize them?
“Do you want a beer?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Sure, why not,” he replies, still looking through the pictures.
I grab us each a beer, then turn on the stereo. My mom has a CD in it that I gave her of one of my favorite bands, so I play it softly for background music.
“The moon is so bright,” I say, noticing how the backyard is lit up by its shining light. “I think I’m going to go sit outside and look at the stars,”
“I’ll come too,” he says, getting up.
I grab a blanket that is draped over the couch and wrap it around my shoulders. The night is cool and quiet. The feeling of the crisp air on my face helps with the rush of heat I feel when I am with him. I sit down in a reclining patio chair. Michael finds another one and pulls it closer to me. We would be touching if the chair arms weren’t between us.
We sit quietly for a moment, staring at the sky and listening to the sounds of crickets. I have always loved it out here. Though it is a typical suburban neighborhood, the part of town that it rests in is close to the river and hay fields. It’s a little country-ish and the big open sky above has always made me feel like I can breathe better.
“I’m sad that I have to leave soon,” Michael says, out of the blue.
I turn and look at him. My future husband is right before me. And in this light he doesn’t appear as young. He looks like the man I recall waking up to every morning and kissing goodnight before bed every night. He is through and through connected to me. He just doesn’t yet know how much.
My heart is in my throat. I feel a lump swell and I fight back tears. I swallow hard, for fear if I speak, and I will choke on the emotions I am trying to hold inside.
I nod. “Me too,” I say quietly.
He looks back up at the sky. “Do you believe in soul mates?” he asks.
CHAPTER 60
I wake up to blinding morning sunlight in my eyes. I roll over to my other side and will myself to fall back to sleep. Michael is on the opposite side of the bed with a small blanket covering him. We stayed up until almost 3:00 a.m. talking. When he asked me about soul mates, our conversation turned introspective and we discussed how soul mates could be your best friend, family member or just someone who makes an impact in your life -- but not necessarily your true love. We agreed that we were supposed to meet. He told me he was grateful we became friends and promised to stay in touch when he got back to Sweden. He said once he makes a good friend, he will always be there for them. I know he is telling the truth. I know that he is very loyal.
When we finally went to bed together, it was platonic. We didn’t even get under the covers. We instead slept on top of the comforter and we each had our own blanket.
Michael starts to stir awake, jostling me from my thoughts. He reaches over and touches my shoulder. “Come spoon with me,” he grumbles. Without hesitation I turn and fold into his body. The blankets are still between us, but he is holding me. We are like innocent adolescents. Not kissing, not holding hands. Wanting to touch, but not crossing a line into serious physical intimacy.
The doorbell rings and disrupts our moment. I jump from the bed and scurry to the window in my mom’s office down the hall to see if there is a car parked outside to indicate who might be at the door. I’m relieved when I see that Lewis’ car is in the driveway and not Joe’s, though I don’t know why he would come here.
“It’s Lewis!” I call to the bedroom. I hear Michael shuffle out of bed. He face is puffy from sleep, as we only got about five hours of rest.
He heads down the stairs and opens the door.
“Hey,” he says, as Lewis comes in.
“You ready to go?” Lewis asks him.
I walk down the stairs. Lewis looks at me and gives me a wink. “You two have a good night?” he teases, raising his eyebrows.
“Oh, stop,” I say jokingly.
“Probably not as fun as you,” Michael retorts while putting on his sweater and shoes.
“I guess I should call Stacy
and get the details,” I tease Lewis back.
“Women,” Lewis huffs while shaking his head, but I see a grin on his face as he turns to walk back to his car.
“Bye, Lewis,” I shout after him, as he walks away. He keeps his back turned but raises his hand in a wave.
I approach Michael, though I’m not sure how to say goodbye. Michael leans in and embraces me. I hold him tightly, but briefly. He still smells good, though his cologne has faded through the night.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, then gives me a short peck on my forehead and leaves.
I slowly close the door behind him and lock it. I sit down on the cold hardwood floor and let my body adjust to the loneliness that immediately washed over me when he walked out the door.
My body is pulsing with the urge to hold him again, kiss him, tell him I love him. It’s as if it has been awakened even more so. There is a gravitational pull to him. I feel like I have lost a part of my physical self. It still functions, but not as well when he isn’t with me.
“This won’t do,” I say to myself. Something has to give. I can’t force it, but I’m running out of time. And what if things don’t happen the way they did the first time? What if I take the wrong step and throw fate off course?
“Tell me what to do?” I say looking up. I don’t know who I’m talking too. God, life, destiny? Maybe all three. But I need a sign. I need something to guide me to the next step. I need to know that I am doing
CHAPTER 61
The rest of the day moves at a painfully slow pace. I am sad and feeling depressed. I call Astrid in the afternoon. I’m in a funk and need her to talk me through it. She is the psychic here and should be able to tell me if I am on the right course. To my disappointment, her machine picks up. I leave a short message and hang up.
I slump on the couch in the quiet house. I don’t even have the energy to turn on the television or stereo, so I settle for lying down and thinking about the night before. What is this? What is the point of this? Why am I really here? Did I do something wrong to deserve this? Did the life I remember with Michael even happen? Are we really supposed to be together or am I not supposed to be with him after all? Did I make a mistake the first time around and now have to correct it?
I’m feeling all the confusing emotions I did before I found him again. But they are magnified now. Before, I felt him, knew of him, saw our life. But after some time passed, it’s as if the emotions and memories buried themselves within me. Now, the closer I get to him and the more I am with him, the stronger I feel about our past and the more intense the emotions get. I feel wonderful when I’m with him, but when he leaves it physically hurts and drains me. What will happen when he leaves in a few weeks? Will I survive it?
At 6:00 p.m. I head to my dad’s for dinner, filled with a sense of dread. Joe asked to take Olivia with him to his parents for Sunday dinner, so I am alone when I arrive. I’m welcomed by the smell of roast chicken and garlic mashed potatoes. I realize that I’m starving, as I barely ate during the day.
“Take a load off. Dinner’s almost ready,” my dad says, after he and Mary greet me with hugs.
I plop down on the couch. The news is on television but I can’t focus on the subject. I’m too distracted by my thoughts. My dad heads to the kitchen to help Mary and leaves me alone. I notice a plastic spaceship-looking thing on the coffee table. There is a black plastic sphere in the middle.
“Hey, Dad? What is this thing on the coffee table?” I yell towards the kitchen.
“Oh, that’s an electronic Twenty Questions game,” he hollers back. “It’s fun, but it will guess right every time!” he warns with a laugh.
Hmm. I shrug. Why not? I hit what appears to be the power button and lights come on, then red block letters scroll across a little screen.
“Ready!” it reads.
I think for a minute of what my answer will be, then I hit the YES button.
“Is it an animal?”
I push the YES button again. This makes me laugh, because my answer is “Michael” and he isn’t a mineral or vegetable. Let’s see how good this thing really is. Like it will guess a name!
“Does it eat meat?”
YES, I press.
After about seventeen more similar questions that make me laugh, I am sure I will have this thing guessing “bear.”
The game occasionally teases me and says things like, “I know what you’re thinking.” I doubt it.
I’m proud of my attempted trickery when I get to the last question.
“I’ve got the answer!” it reads.
“Sure you do,” I sarcastically whisper.
“Soul mate!” the screen displays.
I freeze. This damn game has bested me. My heart is thumping in my chest as I hold this plastic object that is flashing the answer, waiting for me to confirm if it is right.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. I asked for a sign. I asked for an answer. I got it.
CHAPTER 62
The work week is slowly creeping by. The only reason I want it to hurry is because Stacy decided to put together an impromptu trip to Seattle for Bjorn and Michael, as they have never been there. Joe wanted to take Olivia camping with his family, so it worked out in my favor.
Though I miss hanging out with Olivia, I know that I will have that opportunity when Michael leaves and my weekends aren’t occupied with trying to get every minute I can with him. Sometimes when it’s just him and me, whether it’s getting coffee in the kitchen or on the drive to take him home after work, there is a familiar quietness between us. It feels so normal that I’m almost convinced we will be going home to the same place at the end of the day.
Thursday night I do laundry and pack for the weekend getaway. I am nervous and excited. Though I feel like this is something we have done before, I can’t put my finger on it. I have flashes of Michael’s face with the Space Needle in the background. But I’m not sure if this is my imagination or a real memory.
Olivia is in the living room with Joe watching television, so I’m alone in my room when my cell phone rings. It’s Astrid. “Astrid? I was beginning to worry about you,” I say when I answer. I still had not received a call back from my voice message that I left more than two weeks ago.
“Oh, I know. I decided to go to the mountains with some friends,” she says whimsically. “It was incredible. We meditated, drank wine, and ate fabulous cheeses…..just had a splendid time!” she explains.
“Well, I guess psychics need time off too,” I joke.
“You got that right, Love. It’s too much noise down here in civilization,” she laughs. “So, I got your message and saw your missed calls. You sounded a little down. You OK now?” she asks.
“Yeah. Actually I am,” I say, surprised by my own response.
“Good!” she exclaims. “Well, I hope this makes it even better. I just talked to John. He left me several messages and was finally able to reach me. It seems he has found the gentleman we were talking to him about last time. And it’s a match,” she finishes.
I freeze. “So, what now? What’s next?” I ask.
“Well, the man isn’t in the best shape to talk. Apparently there were some….effects,” she shares.
“Effects? What kind of effects?” I ask, concerned.
“I am not sure of the details, but he isn’t really able to communicate his story. His brother is doing most of the talking for him and he is giving John only bits and pieces. I think he wants to establish trust first. But it sounds like there is more for John to learn. We won’t know more until later next week, or the week after,” she explains.
I deflate. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster. Just when I get a high, it drops -- and rather than enjoy it I feel sick to my stomach.
“OK,” I say, my voice full of disappointment
“Chin up, Buttercup!” she chirps. “I also wanted to tell you, I had the strangest dream. You were in it and I could clearly see you walking with a man holding hands. You were near water. There were boats
nearby, like sailboats. I couldn’t see his face, or much about him, but I knew there was a strong bond. But the strangest part is you turned to the side and you were pregnant. Largely pregnant,” she says.
“OK, but that is just a dream,” I respond.
“Oh, no, Darling,” she corrects me. “My dreams aren’t like yours.
They are visions and usually ones that are concrete. Anyway, gotta run. Off to a spirit meeting,” she says.
“Oh, OK,” I say, unconvinced. We say a brief “goodbye” and hang up.
