by EJ Valson
He stares back at me, with fear and concern in his eyes. His expression is just like Joe’s was when I first “arrived” at his house and fainted. He looks like a concerned husband. He is my concerned husband.
I sit up as quickly and as best I can and wrap my arms tightly around him. I touch every part of his exposed flesh for proof that it is really him. I begin to sob. I’m crying so hard I can’t breathe. I cling to him with all my might. I can’t let go of him again.
Michael holds me close and lets me cry. “Babe, are you OK? Are you hurt?” he asks me lovingly.
I nod, then shake my head, then try to stop crying. I don’t know how I am. He lightly rocks me and soothingly hushes me. I know he is scared. I can feel his heart pounding against his chest, which is pressed against my cheek. I don’t know what to tell him. I don’t know what to say. I never want him to let me go.
We stay like this for several minutes. I keep waiting for something to change. For the room to shift, for the air to be cold, for me to fall away again. I lift my head away from where it is burrowed between his neck and chin. I slowly rise to a sitting position on the floor and carefully begin to inspect the room around me.
I am on the floor next to a bed -- it is our bed. This is our bedroom. Everything looks exactly as it should. Everything is in the right place. It’s clean, but not perfect. There are remnants of normalcy everywhere -- a basket of laundry and Stella’s doll on the floor.
I look at Michael. I’m certain it is really him. I lean in and place my hands behind his neck and pull his lips to mine. I can tell he is surprised by my affection, but I don’t care. I have missed these lips for too long. Even if I was able to kiss young Michael, he wasn’t the same man as the man I am with right now. The man Michael has become, the man who I have fallen more in love with as we make our journey in life together. The man who makes me want to be better for him and our family through his consistent love and support -- despite how difficult I can be at times.
I pull away from our kiss and fold into his embrace again. My body is exhausted. My head is confused and aching from what I endured to get back here. All I want to do is hide myself in the shelter of his arms and let him hold me.
“You fell out of bed. Are you sure you’re alright?” he whispers, as he continues to comfort me.
I look up at him. “If I’m with you, than I am better than alright,” I say with a broad smile.
He is not convinced and helps me to stand, then leads me to sit on the side of the bed. He looks at the side of my face and inspects it for any cuts or bruises. He stares into my eyes to make sure they are correctly dilated. When satisfied, he gently brushes my hair with his hand. I haven’t seen him look this worried since I was in labor with Stella.
He sits down next to me on the bed and puts his arm around me. He rubs his eyes and scratches the top of his head. I’m sure this is not the way he expected to be woken up this morning.
“You were really active in your sleep last night,” he says. “You kept kicking and talking, saying random words.”
I look at him, a bit perplexed. “I did? What did I say?” I ask.
He shrugs his shoulders and thinks for a minute. “Um…..I don’t remember all of it. You yelled out something about calling 911, which woke me up out of a dead sleep. When I tried to wake you, you wouldn’t respond. Then a few hours later, you were saying ‘I love you’ out loud. Then later you were crying,” he says matter-of-factly. “No matter what I did, you wouldn’t wake up or acknowledge me. You would just roll over, continue sleeping and dreaming. I barely slept last night.”
I sit in silence and try to process everything he has said. I can see bits and pieces of the journey that I just experienced. I can vividly recall the life I was living only a few hours ago. It’s as real as being here right now.
I feel my blood rushing from my head. I’m starting to feel embarrassed, confused, scared and anxious all at once. Nothing about this makes sense. How can I know so much about a life that felt like it just happened with Joe?
Was what I experienced real? Or was it just a dream? I’m beginning to feel like my mind has been damaged, tormented and played with. I sit in silence, quietly trying to sort out what seemed like a tragic year of my life but now appears to be one night of active dreaming.
I’m brought out of my deep thoughts when our bedroom door opens. Stella sleepily shuffles in, rubbing her eyes, while she makes her way to Michael. My heart drops and aches as I watch him lift her up and place her in his lap. She leans comfortably against his chest.
“Today’s your birthday party,” he quietly says to her, tickling her belly. She lets out a giggle.
Tears immediately well up in my eyes. I thought I had missed her birthday. Yet now it should be a few days before the actual date. I instinctively reach for her and pull her to my lap to cuddle her. She wraps her small arms around me and embraces me back. I bury my head in her hair and take in her scent. I have flashbacks of moments like this with Olivia -- in the real or imagined past life I just lived. How I knew it was her in my life with Joe. How I recognized her from this small act. Stella also is my baby. She too is my daughter. And I will never forsake her, Michael, Olivia or anyone I love again.
“Happy Birthday, Baby.” I whisper in her ear as tears fill my eyes. I never want to let her go.
CHAPTER 92
After my fall out of the bed, Michael accepts that I’m OK and continues on with his morning routine of fixing Stella breakfast, making coffee and getting the paper. He also inadvertently reminds me about the details of Stella’s birthday party. Coincidentally, it is at the same pizza parlor where Joe and I had Olivia’s fifth birthday party. Or did we?
While he is busy, I move carefully around the house, touching practically every wall, doorway and any tangible object that I can find to make sure I’m really where I appear to be. I inspect every family photo. I check the closets, I rifle through drawers. Everything seems normal.
I make my way to Olivia’s room last in my inspection of the house. Her bedroom door is closed. This is normal for her these days, as she likes her privacy and doesn’t feel the need to have us within yelling distance like Stella does.
I quietly open the door, careful not to wake her. Her long, dark hair is sprawled across her pillow. Her back is facing the doorway. I lean my head against the door frame and though I long to hold her, I settle for watching her sleep. My heart aches a little at the realization that she is no longer five. She is almost thirteen. How quickly I have lost her to practically being a teenager.
She starts to wake and stretch in bed, her long legs poking out from under the covers as she extends them. She senses my presence in the room and quickly looks towards the door. She frowns at me.
“What are you doing, Mom?” she asks, annoyed. I scoff with a chuckle. This is my life, my beautiful life.
I make my way over to her bedside and force her to scoot over so I can climb into bed and snuggle with her. She grumbles as I crawl under the covers, and mentions that I’m weird. I wrap one arm across her and kiss her cheek.
“Mom, ewww,” she says, wiping her face. “I just want to sleep,” she whines.
“I love you, Livi,” I say, squeezing her once more before I leave her alone.
“Love ya too,” she says half-heartedly. I smile though, because I know she does.
As I am leaving her bedroom, her cell phone rings from her desk. I reach to grab it and hand it to her, and almost lose my breath when I see the number on the caller ID. It’s Joe. My heart sinks a bit at the loss of whatever life it was that I just lived. I can’t answer the phone. I can’t tell him that I made it -- that I am OK and he doesn’t need to worry. Although I really want to.
I hand the phone to Olivia and leave the room before I begin to cry. I’m emotional. I’m confused. I don’t know where I have been, why I was there and if it was some very vivid dream or a real limbo in time. All I know is that I have ended up back in the life I was fighting to live again. I’m grateful f
or that, but I find that I am also melancholy about leaving behind what I remember so clearly.
I head back to my bedroom to check my cell phone. I don’t have any missed calls. Why would I? I feel like I need to call my friends and family and tell them I am home. But that wouldn’t make any sense to anyone. In their minds, I haven’t gone anywhere.
I make my way into my bathroom, turn around and pull my shirt up to expose my upper back. There it is -- my tattoo. Where it should be. I exhale deeply. I really am home.
I walk back to my room and prepare to make the bed. Moments later Olivia appears in my bedroom doorway, with her hand covering the speaking part of her phone. She holds it at her side.
“Mom, what time is Stella’s party over?” she asks in a hushed tone.
“Probably around 2:00. Why?” I ask.
“Dad and Rachel are in town and they wanted to see if they could take me to lunch,” she says.
Normally this would infuriate me. On occasion Joe has come into town on a whim and wanted to whisk Olivia off somewhere. But this time I smile as I think of the dinner date nights they had in my other life.
“Olivia, can I talk to him?” I ask, reaching for the phone.
She hesitantly pulls it back. “Why?” she asks defensively.
“It’s OK, Honey,” I assure her. “Just let me speak with him, please.”
She grudgingly hands me the phone. I nod to confirm that it is really OK.
“Hello, Joe?” I ask into the phone nervously. I can feel my palms starting to sweat.
There is a moment of silence on the other end. “Hello…” Joe says, a bit perplexed and slightly defensive at hearing my voice instead of Olivia’s.
I clear my throat. My heart is thumping in my chest. “Hi...hi there,” I stammer. “I’m sorry to interrupt your call with Olivia.”
He is again quiet. “Uh...that’s alright,” he responds politely.
“So, as you know, we are having a party for Stella today around noon. I know you might have other plans, but if you are able to make it we would love for you, Rachel and the kids to come,” I blurt out in a rush, almost surprised by my own words. I take a deep breath and swallow hard while I prepare for rejection. I don’t know why I extended the invitation, but it felt right when I did. I glance at Olivia, who is looking very confused by my actions.
The line goes quiet, then Joe says, “One minute.” I’m left waiting for several minutes. I can’t hear anything but mumbled voices in the background, as if he is covering the mouthpiece. I assume he is talking to Rachel. “Are you still there?” he asks when he gets back on the line.
“Yep,” I say a little bit too cheerfully.
“Sure….that would be great. Where’s it at?” Joe asks.
I give him the details, then pass the phone back to a dumbfounded Olivia. I find I’m pleasantly surprised, nervous and hopeful after the conversation with Joe. If I learned nothing else from whatever glimpse I had into an alternative past life, I at least know that it is time to turn over a new leaf with Joe.
CHAPTER 93
The morning passes by quickly and we are soon on our way to the pizza parlor to set up for the party before family and Stella’s little friends arrive. I feel like I have been bumbling my way through the day, but Michael hasn’t mentioned anything about my slightly disoriented behavior. He probably chalks it up to me rushing around for the party.
He was pleased that I invited Joe and his family to Stella’s party. Joe and Michael have always been cordial, and even though Joe and I haven’t been on the best of terms, my family still likes him -- so I’m sure there won’t be any issues on that front.
When we walk into the pizza parlor, I’m hit by an all too familiar feeling of nostalgia -- as if I was recently here, which in my mind I was. Olivia’s birthday party doesn’t feel like a dream to me. It feels like a memory. I shake the feeling off and continue to the private room we have reserved while Olivia takes Stella to the playroom.
Michael has grabbed balloons and gifts from the car and follows me inside. It is just the two of us alone to set up. I watch him as he tries to strategically place balloons and party plates to make the room look festive.
I smile, as this is endearing to me. I put down the cake box and walk over to where he is now distributing party favors. I wrap my arms around him from behind and lean my face to rest on his back. I close my eyes. I feel his muscular stature, his warmth. I smell the scent of his soap and cologne. I don’t want to let him go.
He stops what he is doing and turns around to face me. “Well, hello!” he jokes, hugging me back. I lean in and embrace him again.
I look up and meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say.
His forehead creases in confusion. “Why?” he asks.
I recall how I was feeling the night before I woke up in my past. I remember how I had been cold and neglectful. I had taken him for granted.
“For not being the wife you deserve,” I say.
He ponders my response for a moment. “You are the wife I deserve, Babe. And I love you,” he says.
I appreciate the sentiment, but I want him to understand what I’m trying to tell him. “I really love you, too. And I want to thank you for everything you have given me. You have given me so much to be grateful for and I am sorry if I took that for granted. Thank you for loving me so much,” I say, fighting back tears.
It’s still not everything that I want to say. There is so much I can’t tell him. I was lost without him. I’m grateful to have found him again. I am thankful to feel his love and to feel my love for him fully restored. And someday I might even tell him about my crazy dream.
Michael lifts my chin so his lips can meet mine. He places a kiss firmly upon them. I feel my body come alive again. A rush of blood starts from my toes and moves quickly to the top of my head. I feel rejuvenated.
A blinding ray of sunlight from the door opening across the restaurant hits my eyes and causes me to pull away slightly. I can see the silhouettes of two adults heading in our direction, small children trailing behind them. When my eyes finally adjust to the light and can focus, I see it is Joe, Rachel and their two sons.
Michael turns around to see who I’m looking at. He faces me again and gives me a wink. He walks out of the private room first and extends his hand to shake Joe’s. A friendly smile spreads across Joe’s face. He motions to Rachel and their children to come over and say hello.
I follow behind Michael and put a smile on my face as I go to greet them. I’m genuinely happy to see them all. I greet Rachel with a polite hug and kneel down to their boys to tell them where the playroom is.
Rachel excuses herself to go to the restroom and Michael goes to the counter to check on the pizza order. This leaves Joe and me standing awkwardly alone. My mouth feels dry and I am at a loss for words. I want to say so much, but I don’t know what I can say that would make this less uncomfortable.
I finally muster up the courage to speak. “I just really want to thank you guys for coming,” I say. “It means a lot to Livi….it means a lot to me.”
Joe nods politely and smiles. “No problem,” he says.
I notice slight wrinkles around his eyes. These weren’t there the last time I saw him. His face has aged a bit. A few grey strands dust his short hair. We aren’t kids anymore. In a flash so much has changed, but this time in reverse.
Rachel emerges from the bathroom and places her hand low on her stomach. She is wearing a big smile as she approaches us. “That’s better,” she says and lets out a little laugh. This is when I notice that her thin frame looks a little plumper in the middle than I remember. I look up and realize that she notices me staring. She rubs her belly softly. “Five months along,” she says, smiling.
I feel so many emotions welling up inside me. I want to grab Joe and hug him like I did the night he told me that Rachel was pregnant at Astrid’s. I wonder if my dream was some weird sort of premonition. Maybe I’m even a bit psychic, too. I congratulate them both, and so does Mi
chael when he joins us again. He’s carrying two beers and hands one to Joe, who genuinely appreciates the gesture.
Guests begin arriving quickly. I’m elated at the sight of my mom and Richard when they appear through the doors. I do my best to conceal my overwhelming emotion, but it’s hard. I’m so grateful to have her here. As usual, she accepts my over the top display of affection and doesn’t question its abundance.
I’m again surprised and relieved when my father and Nancy show up. As they walk through the doors, they are laughing and smiling while they struggle with a large gift. I almost knock Nancy over when I hug her hello. She is alive, she is here, and she is OK! From my perspective, I haven’t seen her in a year, though in this reality it seems I’ve only been “away” for one night.
Michael corrals the kids and helps coordinate the pizza and drinks while engaging in small talk with Joe. Rachel visits with Olivia. I sit back and admire the scene before me. I watch my unconventional family of divorced parents, their new spouses, and children from different parents interacting and enjoying each other’s company. I know I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.
