

The

Nostalgia

Effect

The Nostalgia Effect

EJ Valson

Copyright 2013

Published by EJ VALSON

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Author.

The following story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. No compensation was provided to the Author for any mention of an actual event, person, place or thing.

Acknowledgments:

I have been waiting all my life to write something that meant something to me, and will hopefully mean something to those who read it. I was truly inspired by love and the many blessings in my life when I wrote this book. I want to thank my parents, my "soul mate" and other friends and family for supporting, encouraging, inspiring and guiding me through this process. I couldn't have done it without you.

-Love E

Intro

"I'll get her," I mumble sleepily, when awakened by the faint sound of a toddler's cry. The dark gray of dawn is coaxing my eyes to open, but they stay stubbornly shut. Whatever I heard is gone, faded into the quiet morning. I assume my young daughter was just dreaming and has fallen back to sleep. I wrestle with the bed sheets, my eyes still closed, attempting to get a few more minutes of sleep. I'm so tired, but I have a lot to do today.

Surrendering to the inevitability of morning, and eyelids still shut, I slowly sit up and kick away the blankets while preparing for my feet to meet the cool hardwood floor. To my surprise, I instead feel something soft under my toes. Quickly, I pull up my feet, thinking I'm stepping on the cat. My puffy eyes open the tiniest bit while trying to focus....no cat.

I blink a few times for my vision to adjust what's below my feet. No hardwood floor, just carpet. Why carpet? My eyes, now wide open, dart around the now very unfamiliar room. Where the hell am I? My head whips towards the other side of the bed. And who the hell is that?
CHAPTER 1

Panic wells up in me and my heart starts to race. I'm in the wrong bedroom.....the wrong house! Though the room feels somewhat familiar, it's not a place I've ever been. Dim early-morning light illuminates the space around me. Maybe I'm not seeing correctly. Maybe my eyesight is failing me.

There's a man sleeping with his back to me. His hair is dark, darker than my husband's. From what I can see, he is too tan and thin to be Michael, and his hair is cut differently. But even from behind, he looks slightly familiar. Do I know him? Did he bring me here? Did I get drunk and pass out somewhere? Was I drugged? Have I been kidnapped? I don't feel hungover, I don't feel hurt and I don't feel sick. What the hell is happening?!

The familiar stranger starts to stir. Oh, God. Jenni, run! Still asleep, the man rolls over, now facing his body in my direction. My jaw falls open and I stare back in shock. My heart thumps wildly in my chest. Instinctively I cover my mouth to stifle a scream, then draw in a breath so deep it almost suffocates me. It's my ex-husband Joe.

My body begins to tremble. Joe remains asleep, oblivious to the fact that he's inches away from a panicking woman whose world has just turned upside down. Why am I here? Why is he here? This has to be a mistake!

I try to quiet my shaky breath by slowly inhaling and exhaling. I cannot wake him. I wouldn't know what to say. My mind races, struggling to make sense of my circumstances. What happened last night? How did we meet up? I don't remember any of it! I haven't seen Joe in several years. He doesn't even live in the same state as I do! Is this his house? Where's Michael, and Olivia and Stella? Are they worried? Have they tried calling me? Where's my cell phone...it has to be here somewhere. I have to find my things and get out of here as soon as possible!

After slowly lifting the sheet from across my lap, I step onto the plush carpet. There's a familiar scent in the room. Lemongrass—my favorite. My eyes have now adjusted to the low light. The room decor is simple, but has a feminine touch.

His wife. Where's his wife? My heart starts to pound again. What if she comes home and finds me? Guilt and fear wash over me. I start my escape, quietly slipping out through the slightly open bedroom door, and step into a long hallway lined by four more doors.

I tiptoe slowly down the hallway, in fear of stepping too loudly or hitting a creak in the floor of what appears to be an older ranch-style home. To the left is a small bathroom, with only a shower, toilet and pedestal sink. It looks recently remodeled. I continue down the hall before gingerly approaching another door that's half open, displaying a room decorated in light green and soft pink. I'm almost completely passed it when I hear heavy breathing coming from inside the room. Curious, I step back and poke my head through the doorway. There's a small body tucked into the full-size bed. Its back is facing me and the blankets are pulled up high, shielding their face.

My eyes dart around the room before noticing a child-sized pair of pink tennis shoes near the bed. Oh God, oh God....it's a little girl! How could I be in this house with him and some kid? What kind of man brings a woman home while there's a child here? And who is she? Joe doesn't have any daughters with his new wife!

Shaking it off, I pick up my pace and start to carefully move away from the door frame. Suddenly my sight is pulled back to something else in the room. I step backwards and peer in again. On top of the dresser is an item I've seen in my oldest daughter's room every day for the last eleven years of her life. How can that be?

I slowly make my way into the room, careful not to wake the child who still has most of her head underneath the covers. I creep towards the delicate silver figurine of two embracing cherubs, then gently pick it up for inspection. When my daughter Olivia was a year old, I bought her the same one at a specialty shop on the Oregon coast. All of the items were supposed to be handmade and one of a kind.

I carefully place the object in my left hand and rub my right index finger over the tiny silver wings. Light from the sun is now peeking through the window, allowing me to see the figurine very clearly. It's identical to the one I bought my daughter. It even holds the same correction mark where one wing was not molded properly and the artist tried to improvise.

"Mommy?"

I drop the small ornament and turn around quickly, when startled by the gentle voice in the room. Blood rushes from my head, my knees weaken. It's my daughter Olivia, but she's young again. Without warning, the room spins and goes dark. I feel the hard slam of the floor as it meets my body.
CHAPTER 2

"Jenni, Jenni!" I awaken to the sound of Joe's voice. I feel his arm around the back of my neck, sitting me up. The younger Olivia is crying.

"It's OK, Livi. Mommy is OK," Joe comforts her, with subtle worry in his voice.

My body feels so heavy in his arms. I don't want to get up. I'm afraid that if I do, I'll still be here and this reality doesn't make sense to me. Panic quickly overtakes me. My head is swirling and I can feel my pulse in my eyes. I can't comprehend where I am or why I'm here. Why is Olivia younger and why is she not scared of this situation? Why are they acting like this is normal?

"Jenni, do you want me to call 911?" Joe asks.

"Yes!" I say, instantly alert. "Call 911!" I grab at his arm and plead with him. "Please, I need help!"

Joe slightly pulls away at my sudden and forceful outburst. Little Olivia is still crying, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Mommy is scaring me," she chokes through her sobs. Joe reaches out and pulls her close to him.

"It's OK, Livi. Mommy just fainted. She'll be OK." Joe then turns to me, confused and slightly agitated. "Jenni, what's wrong with you?" he firmly whispers.

I look at my ex-husband, then at mysteriously young Olivia. She's clinging to Joe as he strokes the top of her head consolingly. Why are we all in this room together acting like a family? And why is Olivia four years old again? I just saw her yesterday....she was twelve!

As I stare at them, and they back at me, it suddenly occurs to me that I must pull myself together before I get hauled off to the looney bin. If Joe does call 911, they're likely to think I'm crazy and take me away for a psych evaluation. Play along.

"I'm OK, baby. I'm OK," I manage to calmly say to Olivia.

I sit more upright and hold my arms out for her to embrace me. She slowly slides off Joe's lap, shuffles over and gently folds herself into my lap. Instantly, the scent and weight of her body are familiar to me. This is my baby, through and through. She's my Olivia, somehow both who she was before and who she is as I know her now, at age twelve. She is mine, I can feel it.

Joe watches me, concerned and unsure, as if I might snap again. "Are you sure you're OK?" He asks warily.

I nod, even though I know that I'm not. Nothing about this seems right. I have no idea where I am, but they seem to. They're acting like it's normal for us to be together, but I don't know why. My heart feels as if it has broken in two. Why am I here with them? Where is my real life? Where is Michael and our daughter Stella?
CHAPTER 3

I feel like an alien or a character from one of those movies where people switch places. When I'm confident Joe and Olivia are reassured and settled, I leave her room and go to the bathroom—mostly to get some space and see if I am who I think I am. Looking in the mirror, clearly I am me, but slightly younger. I lift up the unfamiliar nightgown I'm wearing, one I would never have chosen, and look at my stomach. The stretch marks from my pregnancy with Stella are non-existent. My stomach is flatter, my breasts rounder and more firm. I don't have the markings of having borne another child, like I had yesterday.

I turn around to check between my shoulder blades. "My tattoo," I whisper to myself.

It's gone. There's no longer a soft pink lily gracing my bare skin. For a brief moment I feel a slight ping of pleasure, enjoying my younger self's body, but then a deep pinch in my gut resists the good feelings and reminds me that I am lost. I'm not me anymore. It appears that I'm a form of my past self. But who is that?

I hear the sound of cartoons coming from the living room and cereal being poured into a bowl. The smell of coffee brewing teases my nose. This particular brand's scent is not what I'm accustomed to, as my husband...my _real_ husband, Michael, only drinks a Swedish brand native to his hometown. Instantly I'm stabbed with a longing ache for him. Panics is starting inside me again, but I fight it back to avoid another scene.

I feel like a visitor in a place that is apparently my home, judging by the small touches of my obvious decor taste and family photos placed upon a brick mantel and the surrounding walls. I try not to appear out of sorts, but I can't help from gazing at images of captured moments that I have no memory of. Has this always been my life? Does my other family even exist or did I have a vivid lifelike dream that has me completely confused and disoriented? Am I losing my mind?

Joe doesn't say anything to me, as I pretend to straighten pictures on the wall while secretly inspecting them for any sign of photo editing. He instead focuses on concealing the mess he's creating in the kitchen with pancake batter and bacon.

I stare at pictures of our wedding day that I actually do remember, and photos of Olivia's birthdays, Christmases and family camping trips with friends who haven't talked to me in years in my other life. Some look more recent. Are we still friends?

Suddenly there's a knock at the door and it swings open. I jump, startled by the interruption.

"Hey, Kids! Morning!" My dad shouts out as he comes through the door. Without hesitation I run over and wrap my arms around him.

"Dad!" I exclaim with relief. He freezes, surprised by my overzealous welcome.

"Nice to see you too!" he chuckles. I hesitantly let go of him. I want my dad to see the fear in my eyes, to tell me this isn't real, and save me from whatever this is. Instead his expression only tells me that he's confused by my behavior. It's the same expression Joe wore earlier.

"Grandpa!" Olivia calls, as she runs and jumps into his embrace. I mentally thank her for distracting them from my odd demeanor.

"Hey, Jim. You hungry?" Joe asks my dad.

"Nah," he replies. "I just stopped by to drop off the weed whacker for you. It's on the porch. Mary's in the car waiting for me to take her to breakfast."

Mary? Who the hell is Mary? Where is Nancy, my stepmother?

"OK, no problem. Thanks for bringing that by," Joe says, as he refocuses on his task of making breakfast.

"Are you sure you can't stay, Dad?" I say, almost pleading. He hugs me again, and holds me tight at his side.

"You OK?" he asks, concern on his face. I'm almost on the verge of tears, but I pull it together, as it's obvious he is living in the same reality as Joe and Olivia.

"Yeah, I'm just tired and I feel like I haven't seen you much lately," I respond, covering my distress. My dad looks up at Joe with a puzzled expression.

My dad chuckles, then looks at me quizzically. "We just got back from spending a week together at the coast yesterday," he says.

I'm really blowing it here. "I know," I answer lightly, trying to cover gaffe. "It was just sort of chaotic. It would be nice to wind down and chat." I reply, attempting to reassure him.

He nods in agreement. "Well, we will have dinner at our place soon," he says, and with that he gives a wave to Joe, a kiss to Olivia and pats me on the shoulder before walking out the door. I surreptitiously peek out of the window to try to get a glance of this "Mary" lady. The sun's reflection on his old Cadillac's window makes it impossible to see her face. I only catch a glimpse of white-blonde hair as he quickly drives away.

I instantly miss my dad and feel desperately alone again, trapped in a place I'm supposed to know as my home, with my first daughter at the end of her toddlerhood, a husband I shouldn't be married to anymore and memories of a life that either doesn't exist or is going on without me.
CHAPTER 4

I'm grateful when Joe announces he's heading out to his parents' to help his dad work on his yard. In the old days, that meant he would be gone for hours. For a short while I'll be able to let my guard down and try to discover where I really am and why. Younger Olivia seems oblivious to her mother's odd behavior and continues about her day, playing with baby dolls and watching her favorite movie at that age. It's a miniscule gesture of familiarity that surprisingly comforts me.

Later, after realizing that Olivia still takes naps, I put her down to sleep. As she climbs willingly into her bed, I remember what an easy kid she was. My other daughter Stella is spunky, spirited and doesn't fear consequences as much as Olivia did...or should I say, does.

I brush the hair out of her big blue eyes. Little did I know when she was this age, that when she got older her eyes would be more green like Joe's. At this moment in time her face is still round and her complexion is clear and unscathed by makeup or blemishes. Her chubby hands hold my cheeks as I give her a kiss on the nose while tucking her in. I miss her at this age, and yet here she is....again.

After tucking her in for a nap, I rush to get to work on sorting out my new circumstances. What day is it? What month is it? It could be summer, based on the outside temperature and ample sunshine. If the flowers are blooming, it probably is. But if it really is 2005, I'm not sure we have a computer or the internet for me to do research and orient myself. When Joe and I were married, we weren't very tech savvy, especially him, so I don't know what to expect.

While exploring the house, I see we appear to have a big screen TV, VCR/DVD combo and what looks like a gaming console, but I'm not even sure if Joe has a cell phone. There is a cordless phone connected to a landline in the living room, but who would I call? I can't remember anyone's phone number by heart except Michael's. In my "real" life, everyone I normally call is programmed into my cell phone. PURSE!!! I have to have a purse!

I quickly begin searching for some sign of my personal belongings. At my real home they are usually at my bedside. Do I put them there now? I hurry back to the bedroom. No sign of it there. I make a 180 degree turn back to the living room, and check on the floor in areas where one might drop shoes and keys. By the door, by the phone...nothing. I gaze around the kitchen, but the counters are clear.

Then I notice a black strap hanging over a dining room chair. YES! That's what I used to do with my purse until Stella started getting into it. I feel as if I struck gold when seeing the ugly black bag. "Why do I have this?" I ask myself out loud. It's so boring!

I open the efficiently designed zippers and compartments until I finally find an inside pocket. My fingers encounter the cool hard plastic of something about the size of a phone. "Yes!" I say, a little too loud.

I pause for a minute when I realize I don't remember how to use this type of phone. It's full of buttons and a QWERTY keyboard. It's nicer than what I used to have when Joe and I were married, but it doesn't compare to the touchscreen I'm now used to. I finally locate the contacts list. Mom, Joe, Dad, the Mary person, Joe's parents, his brother, his sister, and my friend Kelly. Kelly! Yes, I'm still friends with Kelly. Phew!

Most everyone I still know is listed here, and even some who I'm no longer in touch with in my other life. I check the history. It appears I still call my mom and dad frequently, Joe about once a day—looks like mostly lunchtime calls. Kelly...it's been awhile, but that's consistent with our pattern in my other life. Since Michael is obviously not in the contact list, I dial his cell number, but only get a message that the number dialed cannot be reached.

Looking back at the recent call log, I notice that the dates are for July 2005. I search for the calendar feature in the phone, just to be sure there isn't a mistake. When I find it, it feels like I've been punched in the stomach. The date is July 31st. Despite the year, today would be Stella's 3rd birthday.

I slump to the floor and begin to sob. I ache for my baby. I want to go home.
CHAPTER 5

I sit on the floor for what seems like forever, listening to the sound of blood throbbing through my skull. My heart is wrenching in my chest. Are Michael and Stella out there somewhere in the time that I left? Am I missing in their world? Do they think I left, that I abandoned them in the middle of the night? Are they looking for me? Tears stream down my cheeks and spill onto the floor as these thoughts race through my mind.

The last thing I remember from my other life, before waking up in this one, was being angry with Michael right before we went to bed. I didn't want to talk to him so I went to sleep without saying goodnight. Things between us had been awkward and strained for quite a while. Five and a half years of marriage, seven years together and raising a baby had accumulated into more stress than solace.

What was once a beautiful love story was becoming mundane and stale under the pressures of daily life. I resented him for it and hated myself for being resentful. But I couldn't exactly explain why. I found myself frequently irritated and bored. In fact, my last thought before I fell asleep last night was, "Maybe I don't belong here anymore." I meant that literally in the sense of sharing a marital bed with him. The irony of that thought is not lost on me, even in this moment.

Now I'm here in this vortex of reality, living in a past I don't remember at all. My future family is not tangible. The closest connection I have to that life is Olivia and she's oblivious to the life we have somewhere else far away in the future. I regret every ounce of my past resentment and wish nothing more than to be back in that life again. But how will I get back, and if I can't, how on earth will I survive being here, without Michael and Stella?

The only thing that brings slight comfort to me is that the day and month is almost the same as it was in the life I've left behind. Time is simply off by eight years and a few days. For some reason that fact makes me feel a little more grounded in my current predicament.

I wipe away my tears. I deliberately inhale and exhale. I pray that Michael and Stella are safe, that they don't notice I am gone, or that they are frozen in time and will wait for me to come back. I have to believe this—it's the only thing that will get me up off of this unfamiliar floor. I have no answers. I have no one to ask questions of. I'm all alone in this.

I rifle through the rest of my wallet, finding one credit card, a bank card to the same bank that I still bank with in my future, a bulk store membership card and an appointment reminder card. It's set for Tuesday and it's for a family counselor. We're in marriage counseling?

" _Dr. M. Fetter, Marriage and Family Counselor, appointment reminder 3:30, Tuesday August 2nd_ ," it reads. Great, so now I have an appointment with a shrink and I have no idea why we've been going there. What am I supposed to say, IF I even decide to show up?

I dig through my purse a little more and find a pair of car keys. "Yes!" I exclaim in a loud whisper, feeling a hint of freedom. I guess I'm not really a prisoner after all. I may be stuck in 2005, but at least I'm stuck as me.

I tiptoe into little Olivia's room and rouse her. She grumbles. I smile, in knowing that she'll still be just as hard to wake up when she gets older. She's always loved her sleep.

"Baby," I whisper, gently rousing her. "Mommy needs to go to the grocery store. Can you get up?"

She sits up half asleep and I pull her out of bed. She rests her head on my shoulder. She's heavier than Stella, but I don't mind. Carrying her reminds me that a person never truly knows when the last time they hold their child will be. If we knew that the next time we rocked our baby, pushed their stroller, or carried them would be the last, we would probably find a way to make it linger.

I slip on her sandals while wondering if I need to bring a diaper bag. No, she's four, she is potty trained. I'm not used to leaving the house without extra supplies in tow. I make it out the front door and lock up the house. I see an older Honda sedan in the driveway. This pleases me, because it's not just any Honda, it is my old Honda. Nothing fancy, just a standard model, but when we got it, it felt new to me and I loved it. Seeing it again lifts my spirits.

I put Olivia in her booster seat, then climb into the driver's seat.

"Hello, old friend," I say.

"Who's your friend, Mommy?" Olivia questions.

I smile to myself at her innocence. "The car, Baby, that's all," I reply.

She giggles, as she finds my response funny. I push the button to blast the AC on and slowly back out of the driveway onto the unfamiliar street. I still have no idea where I apparently live.

I find the nearest exit to a main street. As I pull up to the stop sign, I look to my left and quickly orient myself. It seems that we live about a mile away from my future house. Coincidentally, to my left happens to be Stella's future daycare. But the car in the driveway is not that of Stella's teacher. Instead there's a minivan and a pickup truck. This confirms that Stella's preschool is not there yet. My heart sinks as I turn left and slowly pass the house. Would Stella ever go there?

I now know exactly where I am. We must have bought a house in the older subdivision down the street from my dad's manufactured home. The houses here are all ranch style, with large lots. Some are kept up. Others are run down, with old cars in the driveways and overgrown lawns. However, it appears we try to maintain ours well.

I turn right onto the main street, heading towards my future house. This part of town is older, so everything looks pretty much the same. It's still a rural side of town, with hay fields and homes inter-mixed. As I approach the stoplight my heart begins to race. I can't get to where my future house should be fast enough. The light turns green and I proceed straight through rather than turning left at the light towards the shopping center.

"Mommy, this isn't the way to the store," Olivia chimes in from the back seat. Smart girl knows her way around. I should have figured as much.

"Oops! Mommy isn't thinking. I passed it," I say, playing dumb. I hope that excuse will work so I can pull into the private road that leads to my real home. As I prepare to turn left, I abruptly stop.

There is no complete driveway. The houses are still in the process of being built. Only frames stand on the small cul-de-sac that will eventually hold five homes. The road is just dirt and gravel. I slowly drive in and pull all the way to where our house is supposed to be. I put the car in park and stare. My future home is not here. My future family is not here. Nobody lives here. My heart sinks again and I hold my breath to fight back tears.

"Mommy, where are we?" Olivia asks.

"I don't know," I reply, with a lump in my throat and a deep ache in my heart.
CHAPTER 6

I manage to make it through a simple store trip. Luckily the grocery store is laid out almost the same as it is in the future. I buy a roast chicken, salad, yogurt and a few staples that "future me" has to have, but "past me" apparently doesn't take to yet.

I fumble my way through the checkout, putting in my debit pin for my future bank before realizing I don't actually know the pin for the bank account that I'm sure I must now share with Joe. I'm grateful to find checks in my purse, something that I rarely use in my real life. Signing one takes longer than it should because I have to stop mid pen stroke to write Joe's last name rather than Michael's. This is going to take some getting used to.

Shortly after we return to the house, Joe's pulls in the drive. I notice a pile of unfamiliar equipment in the truck bed. I watch him shuffle up the walk, his head down. I can tell he's thinking. That's how he always looked when he was deep in thought. It's an awkward sensation to be thrown back into your past mentally, while physically standing in it. I know how to be married to this man, but not in this year. In my memory, we didn't make it past Olivia's second birthday.

"Hey, babe," he says when he walks in. I hesitate.

"Hi...hon," I reply, bracing myself for the facade I'm about to put on.

He walks towards the kitchen and kisses me on the cheek while he passes through. The kiss feels weird. I don't like it. I feel like I'm betraying Michael. Not only did another man speak to me with affection and kiss me, but this man is my ex-husband. It's one of the worst types of deceit. I'm sorry, Michael.

I pull myself through the ordeal of our first evening together by imagining I'm at home with Michael and Stella. I go on about my evening rituals as I would if Olivia were her younger sister of the future. I make an early dinner, bathe her, read her a story and put her to bed. I hug her extra tight this evening, just in case I don't see this small Olivia again. She's so sweet and pure. This unexpected time with her reminds me of how loving she once was towards me. She didn't roll her eyes at me or get annoyed by everything I said to her yet.

Later on I sneak to our bedroom and try to call my mom, but she doesn't answer. I deflate and head out to the living room. Joe is watching a hunting show on TV. I cringe. I hated those shows when we were married and I tolerated them just so I could spend time with him. I'm certainly over that now. I head back to our bedroom and decide to look through my things. I hadn't paid much attention when I hurried to dress this morning and grabbed the first t-shirt and pair of shorts I could find.

I open our closet doors. Joe's clothes take up only about one third of the closet. His section is full of his old jeans and a few dress shirts, but other than that mostly sweatshirts and utility wear. I have a couple of nice dresses, two pairs of low-heeled pumps and a pair of flats and tennis shoes—but nothing special. "This is what I was afraid of," I say quietly.

In my "other" life, I always joke that had I stayed married to Joe I would have ended up frumpy. I went through the "mom hair" phase when Olivia was a baby and I still haven't lived that down. I wore plain colored shirts, jeans that were too big and sensible shoes. I was always afraid to be fashion-forward in fear of looking too flashy.

When I was twenty-five I became good friends my coworker, Stacy. She taught me how to dress my age, which was certainly not fifty. I found my waistline and self-confidence then too. What I currently wear is quite a contrast to what is hanging in this closet. Here, everything is mid-rise and safe. Seriously, Jen! You may be stuck in the past, but you're in your past body and you are damn well going to take advantage of it and look good!

After setting aside more than half of my wardrobe for donation, I decide to shower and call it a night. I'm almost to the bed when I feel two strong arms suddenly squeeze around my waist, followed by lips on my neck.

"AHHHH!!" I scream and push away from Joe.

"What the hell!" Joe exclaims, startled.

"What are you doing?" I ask, still in shock.

"You showered so I thought maybe you were in the mood," he defends.

Jesus, this is as far as his foreplay goes? I quickly recover. "Sorry, you scared me," I reply, slightly embarrassed. He shakes his head and leaves the room annoyed.

I'm reminded why I've always felt that Joe and I should never have married in the first place. We were once good friends, cared about each other, and had fun together, but we married too young and for the wrong reasons. Our differences in perspectives and values became abundantly clear early on. Even our friendship turned sour as the distance between us grew. What we once overlooked in each other became resentments instead. That resentment had not waned much over the years.

In my current situation I don't care about fixing this with him. Our marriage doesn't matter to me anymore. His feelings don't either. I just want to go to bed, wake up, and have this be one of the most lifelike and surreal dreams I've ever had.
CHAPTER 7

The horrible sound of a buzzing alarm clock wakes me at 6:00 am. Damn that irritating sound. Without opening my eyes I know I'm still here. Michael and I use our cell phones as alarm clocks, as they have a more pleasant sound that you can set instead of this nuclear power plant alert sound.

Joe sits up on the side of the bed and rubs his eyes, then shuffles to the bathroom. I turn back over on my side and close my eyes again. I hear a flush and water running from the sink, then he appears back in the room.

"Aren't you getting up?" he grumbles.

Does he really expect me to get up with him and get him off to work? I stay put. I'm going to hold my ground this time. During our marriage, I catered to his needs too much, and mine were sacrificed. That's going to change if I'm going to be stuck here.

"I thought you wanted to get into work early this morning," he says.

I work? Oh crap. I begin to fret. Now I have to learn something else new about myself, like where the hell do I work? I sit up, rub my face and eyes, and prepare for another long stressful day. I can go with the flow when I have to, but twenty-four hours a day is starting to take a toll on me. Joe leaves the bedroom and goes to the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot. Thank God! Apparently he CAN do something helpful, like Michael would do.

A few minutes later I hear him head to Olivia's room and coax her awake. I'm noticing that he seems more involved as a father than I remember. Even during dinner he cut up her chicken and got her more milk. I wonder what brought on this change in behavior.

I hop into the shower to wash my face and wake up my body, but keep my hair dry to save time. I'm grateful to find a set of hot rollers to add a little style to my limp and unshaped hair. My makeup supply leaves much to be desired, it's nothing like what I use in the future. It's an interesting insight into how I cared for myself in the past—maybe another reflection of putting my needs last. No mineral-based foundation, no anti-aging creams, no quality mascara. Just the economy line for this girl! Oh well. However, I notice my complexion is much nicer than future me, so I guess I'll have to make the most of what I have at hand.

When getting dressed, I'm forced to make do with what I can find in the closet in the way of work attire. It seems I have a satisfactory pair of black dress pants and a white blouse that is more fitting than the others. I add some color with a pink tank top and settle for the simple black pumps in the back of the closet.

I hear Joe try to open the bedroom door, but I have locked it. He doesn't have any right to see me naked. "Hey, why is the door locked?" he asks, annoyed.

I quickly rush to open it. "Sorry," I grumble.

"You look nice," he comments, when he sees me.

"Thanks," I say, feeling a little bad that if this is what his version of my looking "nice" is, then what do I normally look like in his eyes?

Olivia is watching a morning show and eating a nutrition-less kid's cereal at the coffee table. Oh, hell no! My mama instincts flare. That sugary junk is going out of this house immediately. It's not a weekend, when special treats are allowed. She's going to school and needs to start her day out right.

"Olivia, would you like some yogurt with granola?" I ask her.

She makes a funny face at me. "No," she says, looking disgusted. I walk into the kitchen and make myself a bowl, then I coax her to take a bite.

"That's yummy!" she exclaims.

"Now do you want some?" I ask her again. She nods enthusiastically. Mom for the win!

Joe comes out from the bedroom. "What are you eating?" he asks Olivia.

"Yogurt and 'nola," she says proudly, through a mouthful. I smile contently.

"Oh, really..." he says with sarcasm, raising his eyebrows. "You going to be a little hippie?" he jokes with her.

Smartass. I shake my head. "She needs to eat a better breakfast," I say. "Yogurt and granola has more protein and will keep her full longer," I defend.

He looks at me as if I just spoke a foreign language, then drops the subject. "OK, gotta go," he says, grabbing a small lunch box and his coffee mug from the counter.

I begin to panic at the thought of being left behind with Olivia and not knowing where I'm supposed to take her for day care. "Wait, you aren't taking her with you?" I say trailing after him.

He turns around with a puzzled look on his face. "What do you mean?" he asks. "I never take her. And I have to be at the site in 15 minutes," he replies, staring at me like I've lost my mind.

My panic increases. Where do I take her and then where do I go after that? "Right," I say calmly, realizing I need to cover my emotions.

"Sorry, I just wanted to get in early," I explain, hoping he buys my excuse.

"Well, if you leave now, you should," he says matter-of-factly. He breaks his stare, then kisses Olivia on the head and me routinely on the cheek. "See you later," he says, walking out the door.

I look at Olivia, sitting there so preciously, focusing on her breakfast and kids show, unaware of her current mother's unraveling mind. Thank God!

I quickly come up with a plan. "Olivia, let's play a game. I want to see what you remember about our family," I say with a soft tone, kneeling down in front of her. She looks at me intently. She loves games.

"What is your last name?" I ask.

"Harris," she says proudly.

"What is Mommy's full name?" I continue.

She thinks. "Jennifer Harris."

"Good job," I praise her. "What's daddy's full name?" I continue.

"Joe Harris....Joseph Harris," she corrects herself.

"What school do you go to?" I ask.

"Happy Days Daycare," she replies with a big grin. Phew! I know where that is.

"What does daddy do for work?"

She giggles. "He goes up on the houses!" she answers, loud and proud.

Hmmm. "Up the houses...what do you mean, Silly Goose?" I tickle her sides.

"He fixes the roofs!" she exclaims.

AHA! To my surprise Joe is a roofer in this year, just as he is in the future. Odd how he made the same career choice earlier, even weirder that I supported it—considering the danger.

"Good job!" I exclaim. "Now where does Mommy work?" I inquire.

"Ummm...Sound and Clear," she says. I'm taken aback, but relieved. This is still my place of employment in the future. This I can do!

"OK, sweetie, great job! Let's brush your teeth and get going."

Without hesitation or argument she finishes the morning tasks of brushing her teeth, putting on her shoes and waiting at the door. I laugh to myself when I think of how I have to gripe at her to move faster to get ready to leave the house in the future.

I pass the framed structure of my future house once again on my way to Olivia's preschool, and feel a pang of sadness. I'll have to get used to that sight if I pass by here every day. I snap back into the reality of the situation while approaching her preschool building. In my future life I drive by here every day on my way to work. I've forgotten that in 2005 it was not yet remodeled, so the school is smaller and appears worn.

We walk in the entrance and I let Olivia lead me through the double doors into her classroom. Artwork and letters of the alphabet plaster the walls. Primary colors and shapes and numbers adorn the children's work tables. This is different than what she actually had in our other earlier life. After Joe and I separated she went to a private home daycare, and stayed there until kindergarten. When Stella turned one, Michael and I put her in a wonderful daycare/preschool—where she thrived. I often wished that Olivia had been given the same opportunity. I guess she has, in this other dimension.

"Good morning!" says a friendly, middle-aged woman.

"Hi, Miss Benton!" Olivia shrills as she wraps her arms around the plump woman's side.

"And good morning, Jenni," she says to me.

"Hello," I smile. I feel weird leaving Olivia here. I don't know this place or this person. I have to reassure myself that even if I'm not familiar with this place or its employees, Olivia feels comfortable here. It's her routine.

I bend down to Olivia's level. "OK, baby, you have a wonderful day and I will pick you up around five."

"Oh, is Joe not getting her today?" Miss Benton interjects.

Oops! "Oh, that's right. He will.....I forgot," I reply. "That reminds me....has he been picking her up on time?" I calculatingly inquire.

"Oh, yes. 4:30 every day—like clockwork," she says with a smile.

"Great," I say, before hugging Olivia and walking out the door feeling like I've once again prevented this reality from duping me.
CHAPTER 8

I have a slight bounce in my step as I head back to the car. I feel more confident, like I'm riding a bike again after eight years. At first you are shaky and unsure, but then you start pedaling and the tires begin moving and you're going somewhere.

I pull into my work's parking lot feeling optimistic, believing that I can handle my day-to-day work. Sure Sound and Clear would be a little behind from our future progress, but I have already been a part of the effort to get it where it is in the future, so this should come easily.

When I enter the lobby, the smell of coffee and old carpet still lingers. Earl, an engineer, is in the kitchen making tea. "Good morning," I say. He nods hello and I continue walking.

I feel like I'm home. Even if this is not the same year, it's a familiar space, and I have to refrain from hugging everyone I see. Unfortunately, this sensation is short lived. I turn the corner into my office and stop suddenly when noticing my friend Stacy sitting at my desk.

"Oh, good morning," I say, concealing my confusion.

"Hi," she awkwardly replies.

Why is she at my desk? I take a quick glance around the office and realize that nothing is where it should be. These are not my things. What the hell, Life?!

"Do you need something?" she politely asks. I can tell by her tone that we aren't as close as I believe we are in my real life.

Before I can answer, my boss Steve walks into the office. I brace for him to greet me in the same manner as Stacy did. Maybe I don't really work here, after all?

"Oh, good, there you are," he says to me. "I got a call from a school in Colorado. They want someone to come out and do a demo." I feel a sense of relief. OK, he knows me and it sounds like I'm doing similar work to what I have done before. "When you get settled, I'll meet with you and tell you the dates so you can book my tickets."

Now I'm confused again. I don't book travel at my work, or manage any logistics for that matter. I do sales and product demonstrations. Operations handles all of the event and travel coordination. However, this tidbit of information helps me. At least I know what area of the building to go to. But I'm saddened, as I loved the Marketing department. We were all a younger group, including my boss. We were often referred to as the "daycare" by other departments at the small company that specializes in developing hearing aids and other products for the deaf and hard of hearing.

I slowly walk back to the last office down the hall. Pictures of Olivia grace a shelf above the computer. I pout as I put my belongings aside and fire up my computer. This sucks. I'm at least successful in guessing my computer password. It's the one I used for everything else at that time...Olivia's birth date.

I chuckle at the screen. It's a much older version of the system I currently use. Going to have to get used to this again. I open the email program to check my messages. There are only a few, not the normal twenty or thirty emails I would typically get after a weekend, filled with customer inquiries or late night campaign ideas from my colleagues. Instead it's only staff emails from the Operations Manager about turning in quarterly budgets....to me. Shit! Am I her assistant? Ugh! She is the last person I want to work for! I check my email signature. It appears that I am her assistant. How the hell did I manage to get sucked into that? Another corner of this life yet to explore.

Fifteen minutes later Steve walks into my office with a cup of coffee and sits down at the guest chair. "How was your weekend?" he asks.

"Great. Yours?" I respond happily. He looks a little off put by my cheerfulness.

"Relaxing," he replies. I don't believe him. He is a pro at selling himself and anything else.

At that time Steve was in a bad marriage and hated being at home. He and his wife were polar opposites, to say the least. I know all of this because in my future life we were close friends, and I considered him to be like a brother.

After a brief chat about his travel plans, I return to my computer screen to acquaint myself with my responsibilities. Luckily, I was and still am a very organized person, so I'm able to look through saved "to do" lists and emails to catch myself up on what the past me has been working on. Nothing too challenging—budgets for trade shows, travel planning, meeting agendas and minutes. Nothing I can't handle or haven't done some part of before.

The morning passes quickly. I'm left alone most of the time to work on mundane tasks. My boss Ruth only interrupts me once to make sure I have spoken to Steve about his trip to Colorado. Since it's quiet, I take the opportunity to do some research. I haven't had this opportunity all day and it's been one of my goals. I figure I can run an internet search on Michael and see if I can find him somewhere online. Unfortunately, his name is not uncommon in Sweden.

The search field finds "Michael Nielsen" and produces several results, all pointing to professionals or athletes that are not him. Facebook isn't public yet. Myspace finds nothing. I'm now even more discouraged. I feel lost and a little crazy.

At lunchtime I hear laughter coming from down the hallway. I peek out my doorway to see what the commotion is about only to see my... well, I guess...THE Marketing department heading out together for lunch. I miss them. My melancholy deepens, watching them go out the door. I want to go too.

Instead I settle for going to lunch by myself. I check in with Ruth first to make sure it's okay to leave the phones. She looks at me surprised that I ask. I tell her I'll be back in an hour, hustle out to my car and head towards town. I'm not hungry, but I need a break to think and rebuild my strength to get through the rest of the day.

I look at the houses on the long stretch of road that takes me into town. They all look the same. I smile when driving by a house that in a few years will be busted for selling drugs, making big headlines in this small town of 50,000. I wonder if they are selling right now and if I should tip off the cops. Nah.

The road begins to widen, becoming two lanes. I pass the road that leads to my mom's old house. I almost hit the brakes at full speed when it dawns on me that my mom would still be living there....wouldn't she? I slowly pull over and wait for the chance to flip a U-turn.

My adrenaline is pumping. I have the sudden urge to race to her house, but it's in a residential zone. I want to see my mom, badly. Though it's only a short distance away, it feels like it's taking forever to get to the new subdivision where she had a house built. She was a writer for a large technology company and had worked hard to get a position that paid her well and allowed her to work from the house she had built. Her home was a trophy of her success and I was so proud of her when she was able to buy it on her own.

I ease the car up the driveway, not sure who will be inside the house that was hers before she and her husband bought a new one after they married. Everything else seems different, why wouldn't this be? I get out of the car quietly, fearful of alerting someone who may not be her of my arrival. The house never had personal touches on the outside, like garden gnomes or trinkets. They weren't allowed by the homeowners' association, so from the outside it looks the same.

I stand in front of the door and listen. It's quiet out here. It's a newer subdivision at this time, so most of the houses are still for sale. Occasionally you can hear the sound of construction in the background, but the bigger streets are a mile away, and the river is on the other side.

I don't hear her dog barking, or the clicking of her claws on the wood floor as she goes to inspect the front door. It is dead quiet. I ring the bell and wait. Still no bark, still no patter of paws on the floor. I ring again, nothing. My heart feels heavier than it has in almost a day. Another disappointment. I know I could call her, but it wouldn't be the same. I want to see her. I want to hug her. I need my mom.

My head slumps down, tears well up in my eyes. Suddenly, I hear a honk from behind me and the garage door opens. I turn around and wave enthusiastically, before almost running to my mom's car when seeing her gray sedan pull in. Her dog's in the back wagging her tail and panting. Mom is waving at me. I have seen this sight a million times, but never appreciated it as much as I do right now.

"Mom!" I yell. She seems oblivious to my excitement when she pulls in and parks the car in the garage. She is always happy to see me, regardless of the occasion.

"Hi, baby!" she says as she gets out and opens the back car door. Her German Shepherd Molly jumps out of the back seat and runs over to greet me with wet dog kisses on my hand.

I quickly walk to my mom and embrace her tightly. She hugs me back and I begin to cry. Not just tears, but heavy shoulder-shaking sobs. She squeezes me back hard. I find comfort in her soft thin frame and the scent of her trademark cologne and sunscreen.

"Oh, baby, what's wrong?" she asks, concerned. I can't get the words out. I don't know what to say.

She leads me into the cool air-conditioned house and gets me to sit down on the couch. I'm still inconsolable. She sits down with me and lets me cry it out. She's always been good about letting me feel my emotions before having to explain them. I take full advantage of that this time. When I can finally pull myself away from her comforting arms and face her, I take a minute to breathe. She rubs my back gently and patiently waits.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I manage to squeak out between sobs. "I just feel lost and I really miss you and I just needed to see a familiar face who wouldn't judge me for acting crazy." She brings me in for another hug and holds me at her side as best she can.

I am so happy to see that some things haven't changed—that we are still bonded in that way. I could be crazy and irrational and she never judges me or becomes overly worried. She just lets me get it out. After a few minutes I sit up and stop crying. "I feel better," I report.

"You can always come to me, honey, you know that," she says in a soothing voice.

I do know that—and that's why I'm here. When I pull myself together she makes me a sandwich and I borrow some makeup to fix my puffy, mascara-streaked face.

While I eat she asks a few questions—how am I sleeping, am I exercising, am I still going to counseling.

"Me? You mean 'we', right?" I interject.

"Oh, I didn't know Joe was going too. That's great," she says and pats my hand.

Suddenly I'm not hungry anymore. Why would I be in counseling by myself? I had battled slight depression when Olivia was about a year old, but it was nothing major. I wasn't suicidal or not getting out of bed. I was just anxious, tense and unhappy—nothing that a low dose of antidepressants couldn't cure. And after I left Joe I didn't seem to need them anymore. In the future, whenever I had those kinds of feelings I treated them with exercise, vitamins and sleep. The combination seemed to ward it off.

"Mom, do you remember why I started counseling?" I ask, carefully quizzing her.

"Well, you weren't feeling yourself," she recalls. "After you and Joe split up and you lived on your own for a while, you started having those panic attacks."

I'm shocked. I had never had a panic attack in my life. Well, not in my other life, at least.

"Yeah, Mom, but how long has it been since I had one?" I say, with a hint of sarcasm.

"Quite a while, but I think the counseling has really helped with your anxiety," she responds.

Great! I have anxiety, and so badly that I've suffered from panic attacks. What has happened to me!?

"Do you think it's Joe's fault?" I ask her. She is silent for a minute.

"No, honey, I don't. I think that you got married really young, and you had a baby really young and you put all the pressure on yourself to grow up too fast and make it all work. And when it didn't, you tried your best to do it on your own and when you couldn't, you fell apart a little." She continues lovingly, "Joe may not be everything that you wanted, or everything that I wanted for you, but for the most part he is solid and sincere. He loves you and he's tried to do his best in his own way. I think you need to keep talking to someone about your feelings so you have someone to express them to who can comprehend them better than Joe can."

She was right. Joe was a man of little words when it came to raw emotion. Trying to discuss anything deep with him was extremely aggravating for me. Words came so easily to me, and emotions did too. Joe internalized everything and would sit in silence for minutes until he could form one sentence to express his emotions. I couldn't handle it. I felt alone in our marriage. He also had a tendency to leave and go hiking instead of facing our issues.

The last time he left I told him not to come back because Olivia deserved better than a dad who always walked away when people were hurt or angry. Shortly after that I ended up moving out and went to live with my mom until I found a job and my own place to live.

Apparently in this past life I had somehow made amends with Joe afterwards and I guess I now know why. It was easier to go back to life with him then live alone with Olivia—and apparently panic attacks. Though in my memory I don't remember life ever being so difficult that I wanted to go back to him.

"You're right, Mom," I say to her, managing a smile. "I need a safe place that I can talk to someone who won't judge me."

She comes around her kitchen island to hug me again and I take it all in—her embrace, her smell, her maternal love and protection. We are interrupted by the sound of keys in the door and then I hear her future husband's voice from the entrance.

"Hey, Jen!" he says as he enters the room. I'm so grateful to see Richard. I am happy to see that they still found each other in this version of my life. At least someone's life is still intact.
CHAPTER 9

Today is no different from yesterday. I wake up in the same place as I did the day before, go through the same routine to prepare myself for a job at a place I love, even though I am in a position I don't like.

Joe makes his coffee and leaves early. Olivia eats her new healthy breakfast and we leave the house with ease. She's a happy girl when I drop her off at preschool. When I arrive at work, I manage to give a quick hello to Stacy as I walk by my future office and make my way to my current one.

"Another day in paradise," I sarcastically whisper to myself as I slump into my chair. This sucks. Our wing of the building is quiet and gray. I periodically hear laughter and group conversation going on from within the Marketing area and I'm jealous. Now I know how other people "on the outside" at my work feel. I see how one could become resentful towards Marketing for having a good time—while the rest of the building keeps their heads and voices down as they complete their tasks. If I ever get back to the future, I'll have to work on extending our friendly circle to other departments.

The day is passing quickly. I forego heading to my mom's at lunch again because I need the quiet time. I also have my counseling appointment this afternoon. It will be interesting to get a recap on what "past Jen's" problems are, as "future Jen" is not aware of them.

At three o'clock, I remind Ruth that I have to leave for an appointment for the rest of the day and she nods agreeably. I can tell that she thinks I'm a slacker. But she is a snide middle-aged woman who I know will later prove to be a sorry excuse for a manager and get fired. I will tolerate her for now.

I enjoy the drive through the quiet downtown streets. The town is peaceful in its still-summer beauty. All of the college students are gone, and that allows for the "real" residents to enjoy their charming city. The town is much smaller than it will be in the coming years. Stark buildings are placed around a quaint city center, just waiting to be filled with new restaurants, pubs and lively hometown microbreweries.

The riverfront area is sparse, but development has already started. In a few short years it will be home to a lovely sprawling and beautifully landscaped river walk that ends at a set of large fountains children play in on days like these. I love this town. It still feels like home, even if it's not yet what it will be in the future.

I make my way up to the office suite nested atop the main coffee and boutique building downtown. Coincidentally, this is the same building Michael and I went to when we tried marriage counseling as our relationship began to show signs of wear. I follow the directions to the suite door. I freeze. It's the same office as Michael and my counselor's. I shake off the "Twilight Zone" feeling that runs through me like a chill before knocking.

A sweet looking, middle-aged brunette woman dressed in a long colorful summer dress opens the door. I extend my hand to shake hers.

"Hi, Doctor Fetter..." I say, trying to get her name right.

"A little formal for our weekly meetings," she says, chuckling and grasping my hand softly with both of hers. I find it oddly comforting. But I also deflate at the fact that she said "weekly." Why am I coming so often?

She invitingly gestures to what I assume is my spot on a dark rose-colored velvet couch. As I sit down, I immediately feel cozy. I could sleep on this couch, it's so plush and worn in. I wonder if she does that sometimes.

She makes her way back to a suede butterfly-style chair and clears her throat, then puts on a pair of spectacles hanging from a chain around her neck. She grabs a notepad and reviews whatever is on the paper. I assume it is my patient file. We are both quiet while I wait for her to begin talking.

She looks up and gives me a warm smile. I don't know how anyone could avoid spilling their guts to this woman. She has "welcome, tell me anything" written all over her face.

"So, Jenni, how has your week been?" she asks.

I look down at my hands and think for a minute, hesitating. Where do I start?

"Well," I begin, "I have felt a little...out of sorts this week," I reply. She nods her head, keeping her eyes locked on me, waiting for more. I realize I need to elaborate.

"I just...I woke up this weekend and I wondered why I'm living the life I am. Why am I still married to Joe? Why didn't I stay away when I left before?" I say in a rush.

"Umm hmm," she murmurs thoughtfully. "So you are at an impasse again," she concludes.

I nod. I guess that's where I am.

"Well, Jenni, last week, it seemed like things were moving along positively," she continues. "You mentioned that you and Joe had a breakthrough and were communicating better. Has that changed?"

Apparently so, Doc! If we've had a breakthrough I sure wouldn't be able to tell, because our nightly routine the past two days seems similar to what we always had. I was not happy with that ten years ago so I can't imagine this version of me is happy with it now!

I collect myself before responding to her, so as not to give her a view of my surprise. "I believe it has," I answer calmly. "I think it was temporary. I'm not sure if we just had one good night, or whatever, but things seem the same as usual," I conclude.

She seems to accept this and nods in agreement. "Well, what would you like to see changed?" she inquires.

Seriously, Lady, this is your question? If I've been coming here for this long, why don't you know already? But of course, that is not my reply.

"I don't know," I simply say, and it's the truth.

She smiles sweetly. "Well, to be honest with you..." she begins. I sit up alertly, sensing her smile is not genuine. Please, someone be honest! "I think you are at a plateau, not just with your marriage, but with therapy." Now I'm intrigued.

"You have been coming here off and on for years and more steadily in the last six months and I'm not seeing the personal improvement I would have hoped for," she calmly states.

This is my chance! "Dr. Fetter," I begin. "Can you please tell me a timeline of when you saw these changes, any certain milestones or events in which you noticed areas of change?"

I'm eagerly waiting for something that will give me a clue as to why I am here. I need to know. She thinks to herself for a moment. I have seen very few counselors in my life, but I know that their practice typically isn't to do the talking. It's to get you to talk and come to your own conclusions about why your life or situation is the way it is. If they thought they had all the answers, they would be advice columnists—not therapists. I'm hoping she will break the stereotypical mold.

"OK, I can try to do that," she smiles politely. I feel a tiny sense of hope budding inside me.

"Well, we started therapy after you had your first panic attack a couple of years ago. You were scared because the feeling was so awful you thought you were going to die. This appeared to be set off by you leaving your husband, trying to be a single parent and live a life completely different from what you had with him. You were overwhelmed."

My ears perk up. I want her to continue. She can tell by my body language though, and she proceeds with caution. "We started you on the antidepressants, and you were doing better, but then those seemed to cause you to be a little, well....less inhibited," she says shrugging it off.

I am curious as to what she means, but I ignore the impulse to quiz her on that and instead nod in agreement.

"Once we got those sorted out to a lower dose, you seemed to have had a good balance and the attacks stopped," she continues. "And your progress was improving. But I think when you decided to get back together with Joe, the anxiety level increased slightly. Still, you wanted this for your child. As your therapist I have to help you learn the tools to maneuver your situation, whatever that may be. And so here we are. We have been doing this for a couple years and there haven't been many breakthroughs until recently, but from what I gather now it seems that may not be the case," she finishes with a tone of regret and sits back in her chair.

OK, that was not as informative as I had hoped, but at least it gives me a better timeline. However, I still have no idea why I'm here in this "time warp," what set it off, and if I'm losing my mind. The more days that pass, the more I start to believe it's the latter.

I prepare to ask her a question that could potentially make her think I'm further back in whatever progress 2005 Jenni has made. I begin with caution.

"Is there such a thing as temporary amnesia?" I ask her.

She furrows her brow in confusion, and looks stumped by my question. "I'm not sure I know what you mean," she says. "Can you elaborate?"

I could, but I shouldn't. I have quickly lost confidence in this woman. She's not who I need to sort out this issue. She has told me nothing that I pretty much didn't already know, thanks to my mom, with the exception of the antidepressants that I didn't know I was on and haven't been taking since I arrived here. Could that be my problem?

I look at the clock. I have about forty-five more minutes, so I might as well make this last visit worth my while.

"Can we address my medications?" I ask her changing the subject.

She quickly looks through my chart notes, reading, then looks up at me. "Well, you are only on a low dose of Pantil. How is that going?"

"Son of a bitch," I unintentionally say out loud, slapping my hand to my forehead. This display causes the doctor to freeze, staring at me in alarm at my outburst. I cannot believe that past me is still taking one of the worst drugs I have ever taken. I remember the time I stopped taking antidepressants in my other life. I was living alone with Olivia and had decided I didn't need to be on antidepressants anymore. This I DO remember—the panic attacks, no.

When I was finally clear of the medication, I remember standing in my apartment feeling like I had just woken up from sleeping to find myself in a new life of just Olivia and me. All the emotion of ending my marriage hit me at once. I remember a close friend telling me that she was glad to finally see me grieving, because I had been so unemotional about leaving Joe.

Could that have been the moment when I spun out of control? Could I have snapped and in some weird way created another imaginary life with Michael as a coping mechanism? Have I really been living this life all along? Maybe I have literally been in a fog through these years of my life because of this damn medication! Maybe I forgot to take it and then woke up to this life—my real life. Maybe I had some weird hallucination-like withdrawal!

"Do you know if that drug can cause temporary amnesia?" I ask.

She laughs off my question a little, then composes herself to be polite. "Oh, no, I have never heard of someone having any kind of memory loss due to it," she assures me.

"I haven't taken it for three days," I say flatly. She's looks perplexed and remains quiet for a moment.

"Well, as wonderful as it is to not require medication, I would really caution you about stopping abruptly," she says in a clinical tone.

"Are you having any side effects—like dizziness, or depression?" she inquires.

If I tell her that my side effect appears to be waking up in a past life that I don't recall, I don't think she'll take it lightly. Instead I opt to shake my head "no."

"Well, that's encouraging" she says. "However, you might want to take a low dose for a few days and taper off for safety. But I really think we need to consider putting you on something else."

"OK," I say compliantly, but wonder why the hell I would do that. If I did, maybe I would return to my alter reality—but it would simply be that. Altered and not real. For Olivia's sake, that's a risk I'm not willing to take.

The session finally ends by me agreeing to keep up my journal writing and read some pamphlets about other possible medications. This seems to please Dr. Fetter, though I'm only complying in order to get out of this office. I mentally decide to stop therapy soon after this appointment. It is pointless for me, or this version of me, to continue doing something that is not beneficial—as I don't know what my issues are, or were, that require her help in resolving. Whatever treatment she has been providing hasn't prevented my current circumstance. For all I know, she might have been a catalyst.

I leave feeling even more discouraged at not having a quick answer as to why I'm here, in this reality. My only conclusion is that my memory has been affected by a medication that later will be responsible for numerous medical lawsuits. However, I'm not sure why or even when I stopped taking it or if it is the true cause of my problem, but I suppose it's possible.

I'm sad again, as I get into my car. I pull down the visor in preparation of blocking the sunlight that will cause a glare on the drive home. The mirror cover flaps down, and my eyes meet my reflection. They are all I can see of my face. _It's still you_ , I think, gazing at my reflection. _You are still you, you are just younger_. Maybe this is a chance to start over, maybe this IS the "what if?"

Normally when you have a "what if," it's in reference to "the one" that got away, or the dream you didn't pursue. For me, this "what if" is one of my biggest fears. I've had vivid dreams in my future life that I was still married to Joe, and I panicked at those dreams because I knew we didn't belong together. I was relieved every time I woke up and found Michael next to me. But, what if my dreams of still being married to Joe were always the reality, and waking up next to Michael was the dream?
CHAPTER 10

I decide to call in sick on Wednesday, because I'm sick—home sick. Unfortunately, it's for a home that may have never existed. I can't stomach the thought. I have memories of a life that are so tangible and real. Even certain smells bring me to another place, in a life I'm no longer living.

I feel myself falling into an inconsolable state. Last night I faked my way through another evening of "family" time with Joe and Olivia. If not for her I would have left him....again....for good.

Joe leaves for work before I even get out of bed. I throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then take Olivia to daycare and promptly head back to the house. To my surprise, I manage to find an old laptop my mom gave me years ago...well, I guess given the timeframe I'm in it was probably only a year before the present date.

We don't appear to have broadband internet like Michael and I do....or had, I suppose. So I find a way to get dial-up running, like I did before Michael taught me how to maneuver technology. But did he really, or am I making that up? Still, if he hadn't, then how would I know to do this now?

I spend the morning researching temporary amnesia, antidepressant withdrawal, side effects, and brain trauma—anything that can help me make sense of my current situation. But search engines are not as robust as they will be someday—at least I think they aren't. Most of what I find is related to injury or stroke. Did I have a stroke?

I feel even more depressed when I finish my hour of research. This is my existence. This is the life I must have chosen after all. Yet every fiber of my being is telling me that I'm Michael's wife and Stella's mother. That Olivia, Stella, Michael and I all live together in a house not far from where I am now. That I met Michael almost three years after my divorce from Joe. And that Joe had already remarried and moved to Idaho by then.

I'm certain Michael and I had a long distance relationship while he was in Sweden and I was still here. And we made the most of our relationship through video messenger, emails and instant chat. We visited as often as we could. We maintained a great close relationship while we waited for his entry visa. We were married almost two years after he left his internship in the US to go back to Sweden. We enjoyed our lives, we had Stella, we made a family. If it isn't real, why do I know all of these details? And why does every part of me resist the life that I am living at this moment?

I sit in front of the computer screen and stare at the search field box. I have no clue what to type in it. "Living in another time" is the first thing that comes to mind. I hit ENTER. The top of the search list offers something that intrigues me—"Past Life Regression." Hmmm, since I'm not sure which life I'm really living, maybe there's something to this.

I spend several minutes researching the topic. Most of the articles are focused towards getting a reading with a "psychic" to find out if you were Elvis or Cleopatra. Ugh...this is not what I need.

Suddenly, I recall a flyer I found on my car windshield after grocery shopping one day before Joe and I were married. It was an advertisement for a free reading with a local psychic. I remember calling the number on the ad just for fun. The woman I spoke with started off the conversation by telling me that I needed to decide if the relationship I was in was right for me. I laughed it off and said nothing in response to her unwarranted comment. After hanging up from the very brief conversation, I realized that I'd never told her I was in a relationship.

I quickly go to the online telephone directory and search for psychics in the area. Only one name comes up. This could be her. I dial and wait to hear the click of the line picking up.

"Hello?"
CHAPTER 11

I ease the car onto a dirt driveway leading to a partially rundown house that sits just off the highway. I've passed this house what seems like a million times in my other life. But later it will be renovated and charming. For now it looks a little dilapidated—enough to ordinarily make me a little nervous—but the small sign out front tells me I'm in the right place.

My heart is racing. I feel like I'm about to enter somewhere I don't belong. I've never been to a psychic or card reader, though I have always been fascinated by the craft. The anticipation of this new experience has me both excited and a little frightened. I suddenly feel vulnerable and naked, after I park the car and step out into the front yard. The late morning summer heat bears down on my exposed legs. I hurry to the door before anyone can see me, though at the same time I question if I'd really care if anyone did.

Wind chimes drift a muted tune out into the slight breeze. Cars whizz by on both sides of the house, which rests in a field between the two lanes of the highway. As I approach the front door, I'm smelling some type of sweet fragrance. Above the doorbell a small sign reads, " _The door is open. Are you?"_ I relax a bit. I need to be ready and willing to accept whatever may come of this. I have no expectations, but I have hope.

Just as I reach for the knob, the door opens unexpectedly, startling me. "Hello, Jennifer," the female says in a soft warm tone. "I'm Astrid."

The fifty-something-year-old woman stands before me, her face awash with a welcoming smile. She is draped in a long, flowing maroon-colored dress. Her abundant gray hair cascades down her back. Her hazel eyes pierce into mine. But they aren't threatening at all—they are almost inquisitive, as if she is reading into my soul. I want to stare back, but I oddly fear that I'll expose too much.

I shyly nod my hello as she opens the door wider and extends her arm out to show me the way in. I try to conceal my fascination and curiosity about her living space. The living room is cluttered with bookshelves, candles, plants and tapestries that feature vibrant colors and shapes of moons and stars. Her home is busy, yet inviting. Not my preference for a living environment, but I immediately feel a sense of comfort here.

"Would you like some tea or water?" Astrid asks kindly.

"No thank you," I reply with a nervous smile.

"OK, then let's get started," she says, and enthusiastically clasps her ring-covered fingers together. She places her hand on the small of my back and guides me into a room down the hall that's concealed by a beaded curtain. I smile to myself. The room looks very cliché for a psychic. I wonder where the crystal ball is. There's a small round table in the middle of the room, flanked by two red velvet-covered chairs.

"Please sit," she invites, as she pulls out a chair for me and sits down in the other one across from mine. She gazes at me for a moment. I'm uncomfortable with the silence and her staring.

"So," she begins with a smile, "You are looking for something, I take it?"

Without thinking, I blurt out, "Yes. My life."

Astrid gives me an inquisitive look, then continues with her preparations. She closes her eyes and takes a deep, slow breath. A moment later, she opens her eyes and stares square at me with a calm look upon her face.

"OK, so I'm just going to concentrate a bit and bring up things as I see them in my mind. Please don't respond to my statements unless I request more information," she instructs.

I nod in agreement and wait nervously. She's now deep in thought across from me, lightly rubbing her hands together and looking down at nothing while she concentrates. Several awkwardly silent minutes pass by before she looks up again.

"Hmmm, OK. I see there is a male with the initial 'M'," she states, her eyes slightly looking towards the side of me.

I perk up and start to feel excited at the tidbit of very accurate information, but I try to conceal my emotions.

"There is also the male with initials 'H'....or 'J' and 'H'?" she asks, now looking at me curiously. I feel a lump in my throat. How is she picking this up?

"That is my....he is currently my husband," I cautiously reply.

She frowns a bit. I can tell she is perplexed. "Who is the first male I mentioned?" she asks.

I clear my throat so I can speak. "He....he is also my husband," I say, preparing for her to think I'm crazy.

She sits in silence for a moment, trying to read my face. "I don't see that you are married to both of these people at the same time, so is one your ex-husband?" she asks.

"Yes and no," I respond.

Now I believe I've confused her even more.

"OK, my dear. I see these two men, both are showing me my symbol for spouse. But it's as if they keep morphing into one body and I can't separate the two or get an indication of a timeline," she explains.

My heart is now racing inside my chest. I swallow hard and prepare to give her answers that she may not believe.

"It's a long story," I say.
CHAPTER 12

In the hour that I sit with Astrid, I let my guard down and explain everything. I tell her about waking up next to my ex-husband eight years into my past. I tell her that I believe I'm supposed to be in 2013 with my new husband and both of my daughters. I tell her that I think I might have had a stroke or am suffering from medication withdrawal or amnesia. And throughout the entire relaying of my story she sits and listens intently, not making any type of expression that makes me feel like I'm crazy or being judged. I finally feel free and safe.

"So this has led me to you," I finish. "You are the only hope I have."

I take a deep breath and realize that I've just made the novice mistake of telling a supposed psychic everything she needs to know about me to take my money, tell me a few obvious answers and send me home with a magic cleansing potion. I'm an idiot!

But at the same time it doesn't matter to me. I don't care. If she is taking my money and scamming me, at least I've finally been able to spill my guts and be free of the stifled feelings I've been carrying around with me. This was the therapy I _really_ needed.

"Jennifer, this is all so fascinating," she says, again using my formal name. Call it what she wants, it's a freaking nightmare for me!

She gets up from her chair, walks over to a bookshelf and pulls out a navy-colored leather-bound book. There's faint gold writing on the front, but no image or intricate illustration. She moistens her fingertip with her tongue before opening the book to prevent the pages from sticking together, then flips through to the middle.

"Have you heard of past life regression?" she asks.

I nod and respond, "You mean like when people find out if they were famous or married to the same person before?"

She chuckles. "Well, yes, but I would not consider it for that purpose." She puts the book on the table and sits back down.

"You see, time is just a way for humans to measure and mark our whereabouts. To help us feel like we are progressing through life," she explains. "But some....well...me, believe life can be a loop or like a busy road with many intersections. I believe that sometimes there are parallel parts in our life that can cross or intertwine."

I sit for a minute, absorbing the information but still not quite sure what she means. She apparently see's my confused and lets out a soft chuckle.

"Past life regression is what people may be more familiar with. However, some people in the psychic community are starting to experiment with future life _PROgression_ ," she explains. "I am not an expert in it, though, and have only done a little research. But some say that it's not about reading one's future, or lifelines, or what have you. It's about seeing your actual life, but in the future."

I try to digest what she has told me. It makes sense....sort of. But I don't understand exactly how it helps me now.

"So, are you saying that maybe I'm imagining my future life? That I'm not really from my future and thrown back into my past, but that my memory of Michael and my kids is just me seeing my future?" I ask.

She shrugs her shoulders. "It could very well be, my sweet, but I'm not certain. You give so much detail, that this life you speak of seems very tangible," she says.

I deflate. The controlling part of me that craves a solid answer needs to know the truth for my own sanity. If I know the truth, then I can deal with it. I don't know how I will survive living in a "maybe" state.

"Jennifer," she says sympathetically, "I can tell this is troubling you deeply. I'm a psychic and I have the ability to sense and sometimes see the truth in the present, past and future. But to be honest, yours is very....cloudy. These two men both play a substantial role in your life, but I'm not sure which one is supposed to be with you...or when."

I meet her gaze and her eyes soften with empathy.

"I want you to take this book. I know it may not give you all the answers, but it might help you cope with what is going on." She moves closer and kneels down beside me with her hand on my shoulder. She is trying to console me.

"I have never met anyone with your type of situation and I have to say I'm fascinated. I want to help, but I have to reach out to a few others to see if they have heard of this."

I look up at her and smile. I reach into my purse and take out my wallet. She quickly puts her hand over mine to prevent me from opening it and shakes her head.

"I haven't helped you in the way you need, so therefore I want nothing in return," she states.

Surprised by her sincerity, I instinctively lean in to hug her. As she recipricates my gesture I feel an embrace like you would get from a true friend, or a mother.... a healer.

"Thank you," I say, as grateful tears fall from my eyes.
CHAPTER 13

I hurry home to shower and change so that I can leave again and still return around the time I would typically get home from work. I don't want Joe to know I played hooky. He never was the least bit sympathetic to the slightest sickness. Even though it would be fun to not have to do anything around the house for a day, he's not the kind of guy to pick up the household slack and cook dinner or clean up. Well, at least from what I recall.

I quickly check my work email on the home computer—not that I really care, as this job and this life are hopefully temporary—and respond to the few requests Ruth has sent. I grab a sandwich, my purse, my phone and get back in the car. I have about two hours until Joe gets home with Olivia, so I decide to go and rediscover my past.

I make a left turn out of the neighborhood and head north toward the only major shopping center that exists at this time. I pass the manufactured home park my dad lives in, the fairgrounds that aren't yet updated, and the little rural market. As I approach the main shopping center I realize there is no major department store there yet. Bummer.

I decide to head east towards the main thoroughfare and then turn south. A drive that in the future would normally take about fifteen minutes, now only takes ten. Buildings are more spaced apart and the new "big box" stores and restaurants that will later appear are just empty fields or old business buildings that will one day be torn down.

I head downtown to the waterfront. The distance through which you can drive in this area now is about one third of the length it will be. Construction is starting on some of my future favorite hangouts and the fountains are almost finished. How is it that I can see all of it so clearly?

I feel a beam of hope surge through my body. I'm grateful to Astrid. I even find comfort in her name, which coincidently is Scandinavian. She left me with a feeling of peace and connection, something I deeply need as I float around in this state of limbo.

After orienting myself with my past again in terms of my physical surroundings, I head back home. Again the drive takes almost no time at all due to the lack of congestion, students and traffic lights. I still have an hour to kill, so I decide to head to the manufactured home park to see if my dad is still living there in the double-wide he and my stepmom bought. Well...at one time they did...or maybe they didn't?

The community is still clean and quiet—mostly older folks living in their fifth wheels for extended stays. Everyone here is friendly and they take care of their little gardens with pride. In later years, the stereotypical trailer park tenants will inhabit it, but my dad will have moved out just in time, before the druggies and ex-convicts moved in.

I pull in front of his mobile home and turn off the engine. The house appears exactly the same. The garden is full of roses and other plants I couldn't begin to name. I hesitantly get out of the car, wondering if I'll run into anyone from the old neighborhood.

I hear pots banging on the stove from inside through the screen door. I quietly walk up the steps to the sliding door, just enough to peek in without being seen. The same woman who was in my dad's car has her back to me, washing something in the sink. I find a quick comfort in knowing this is still my dad's home, but I'm saddened that it's not my stepmom in the kitchen. What happened to Nancy?

"Hey!" a voice shouts at me from behind. Startled, I almost fall off the step. I turn around to see my dad doubling over with laughter.

"Dad, you scared the hell out of me!" I say, my heart pounding and hands shaking. His humor hasn't changed. He still finds this type of thing funny, and at this moment I oddly appreciate it when ordinarily it would irritate me.

He composes himself, then puts his arm around me. "Sorry. What are you up to, kid?" he asks, ushering me into the house.

"Not much," I reply. "Just wanted to stop by."

"No work today?" he inquires.

Crap! I forgot about playing hooky. "I got off early," I quickly cover.

Mary turns around from the sink and smiles big when she sees me. "Hi, sweetie," she says, coming over to hug me. She smells nice, and her embrace is warm and comforting. I've never seen this woman in the life I remember, but she feels familiar. "You hungry, or thirsty?" she asks.

"No thanks," I say. She is so kind, just like Nancy. I wonder if they know each other and how my dad met her.

The decor inside is more formal than I recall Nancy and my dad having in their home. Mary apparently likes the color red and she has antique lamps and furniture displayed throughout the small space. I notice a collection of figurines enclosed in a glass cabinet.

"So, kiddo, have a seat, take a load off," Dad says, as he plops into his recliner and puts his feet up. I take a seat at the couch nearest his chair. Mary goes back to her kitchen duties. Dad and I make conversation about the heat and the garden and other minor topics. I listen and just enjoy his presence. He is thinner now than in the future. He looks like he is more active. I wonder what changed.

I glance around the living room. The walls are full of picture frames of family and friends. Some I recognize, others I don't. They must be on Mary's side. My eye quickly moves back to a framed picture on the bottom shelf of the TV stand. It's displayed in a beautiful glass frame with wings etched into the pattern. It is a picture of Nancy.

I stop listening to my dad, get up from the couch and I move closer to the picture for inspection. Why would they have a picture of his former wife in their house? I bend down on my knees and pick up the frame. I know this picture. It was taken on Joe's and my wedding day. She's laughing with her head tipped back, her beautiful sparkling blue eyes shining with delight.

I notice a small silver plaque on the bottom. It is engraved, " _Nancy Vasquez, 1954-2003. Heaven has another angel_." My heart sinks. I slump my head in my hands and I begin to cry without a sound. Nancy is dead?

"Jen...Jen... Oh, hey, don't cry," my dad says from his chair, trying to comfort me, though he doesn't get up. He has never been sure how to deal with me when I'm emotional.

Mary comes around from the kitchen, curious as to what's going on. "Oh, Jenni, what happened?" she asks concerned and kneels beside me, stroking my hair. I let her. I'll take comfort anywhere I can get it right now. She rubs my back as I try to collect myself. I hate crying in front of people.

"Oh, sweetie, don't cry," she softly consoles.

Dad finally sits upright. "It's OK, Jen. She's not suffering anymore. She's at peace," he assures me...and maybe himself.

"At peace from what?" I ask abruptly.

They look at each other. They're obviously perplexed by my question. Mary stands up and extends her hands down to help me up off the floor. She leads me to the couch and puts an arm around me. I can't look at them right now. I'm too embarrassed and mixed up.

"Well.....her car accident, honey," Mary says carefully.

Agony swells inside of me, but I do my best to conceal it. What car accident? How did this happen? Did she suffer? It isn't supposed to be like this! How has everything gone so wrong?

Several minutes go by in silence. I need the quiet to process what I've just been told. "Thank God for Mary," my dad chimes in, clearing his throat. I can tell he's holding back tears. "If not for her help through that tough time I don't know what any of us would have done," he says.

"Well, I'm a nurse, it was my job," Mary says humbly.

The bits of information they've unknowingly provided swirl in my head. I want to ask for more details, but I know it will concern and confuse them.

I take a deep breath and nod in agreement, though I don't know what I'm really agreeing with. "Sorry guys, I don't know where that came from," I apologize.

"It's alright," they both say in unison.

I meet Mary's gaze. "And you're fine with having that picture here?" I ask her, while pointing to the picture of Nancy.

A smile sweeps across her face and her eyes soften, "Of course, Jen. She will always be a part of your family. When I was taking care of her, I saw the love you all had for her and I would never try to interfere with that," she assures me.

To some degree it's beginning to make sense. Mary must have been taking care of Nancy after some tragic accident. All I can assume is that it was bad, and she must have had injuries that required hospitalization and later they contributed to her death.

I shake away the images my mind is generating. I can't think about it any longer. In some small way, I'm grateful that I can't remember it at all. Not having her here in this version of my life is painful enough.

I shrug off my emotions and try to put back on a charade of normalcy. I stay another thirty minutes or so, observing their interactions with each other. It's friendly and loving, but it's still not the same as him and Nancy. Mary is an attractive woman, with hair that's almost white. She is a little plump and probably closer to sixty than my dad. She has a golfer tan and a visor line. The thought of them golfing together makes me happy. At least he has someone nice in his life and he's not alone.

I give both of them hugs when I say goodbye, then drive back toward Joe's house. Anxiety butterflies began to flutter in my stomach when I see his truck in the drive. But the butterflies are quickly followed by excitement from the realization that my little Olivia is inside and I get to see her again. I quickly check my face in the visor mirror for mascara streaks and tear tracks, before getting out of the car.

As I walk to the front door, I hear Joe's favorite country music album playing from inside the house. It's been a long time since I've listened to that genre. The smell of freshly chopped onions immediately greets me when I open the door. Joe's in the kitchen flattening hamburger patties and singing out loud, along with the music. This is a side of him that I occasionally saw at parties or when friends were over and he'd had a few beers. Tonight there isn't a beer bottle or can in sight.

"Hey, babe," he says with a smile when seeing me.

"Hi," I reply, a little surprised by his chipper behavior.

While he continues with his burger preparation tasks, I put down my purse and take off my shoes. The thumping sound of little feet quickly approaches me from behind. Two chubby little arms wrap snuggly around my legs.

I gently break free from Olivia's grasp and turn around to pick her up. Her rosy cheeks are plumped with a big smile. She places her tiny hands on each side of my face and looks into my eyes. "Mommy, you're home!"
CHAPTER 14

Seattle

I awaken to the sound of a man singing in the alley two stories below, as he walks past our window. It's early morning. My head is heavy from the fun we had the night before. The room is gray and beige. Misty cloudy light from the Seattle sky is trying to squeeze into the room through the crack in the curtains. I don't want it to. I don't want to leave this room or the uncomfortable queen-size bed.

I can smell cigarette smoke coming from underneath the door that connects to the adjoining room. This has to be the worst hotel I have ever stayed in. But it was cheap, and the point of coming to Seattle for the weekend wasn't for us to stay in our room.

I fight the urge to cough. I will my eyes to close and my body to fall back to sleep. I can feel the heat of his body radiating towards mine as we lay back-to-back, respectfully maintaining just enough space to be just two friends sharing a bed, but still aware that we are in it together.

Some people who know us think we're more than just friends. Others insinuate that we are sleeping together and that I've taken advantage of this young guy who will only be in the United States temporarily. But I wouldn't do that. Either would he. We have never crossed the line of friendship by being physically intimate. We hadn't intended on sharing a room, but circumstances with the friends we were traveling with changed our sleeping arrangements. Happy accident.

We took a weekend getaway to see the sites Seattle had to offer. Neither Michael nor I had ever been there. He wanted to see a bigger city before he had to return to Sweden in two weeks. I wanted to share that with him.

Now I lay here with someone I've only known for a short while, but feel like I have known my whole life—and maybe even a few before this one. I stare at the wall, remembering the conversation we had yesterday afternoon when we were supposed to be resting before we headed out to dinner and dancing.

Unable to nap, we ended up talking about him leaving and how grateful we were to have met and become good friends.

"Jen, you need to stop trying to be so strong all the time," he had observed. "You are a good person and you need to put your guard down and let someone love you."

"So do you," I teasingly retorted with a smile.

He'd had a hard time making direct eye contact with me. I could tell he wasn't used to being so honest about his feelings.

"You've restored my faith in women," he said. Then he sheepishly grinned. "But I'm not done with you yet...I'm going to marry you one day."
CHAPTER 15

Over the past few weeks I've spent most lunch breaks in my office reading the book Astrid gave me. It's been fascinating to read about real past life regression sessions—transcripts of men and women being put into an almost hypnotic state to open their soul to lives lived before the one they are currently living. I could relate to them.

Luckily, the book doesn't mention anything ridiculous about people finding out they were the King of England or a famous actor. It focuses on one's spiritual purpose for being on earth and what their soul is supposed to achieve. There are also chapters about finding the common theme or scenario between lives. I wonder if there's a lesson to be learned or a goal to be met in my predicament. I begin to compare my life with Joe and my life with Michael. There must be some parallel between the two that has brought me to the time I'm currently in.

Lately, I am starting to feel more at ease in this "new" old life. We have a routine and that helps me feel more grounded. Every day is pretty much the same. We get out the door, go to work, make dinner and play with Olivia before she goes to bed. Joe occupies himself with the television each night. He doesn't seem to care that I retreat to the bedroom to read my book before bed. Luckily, he has no knowledge of what the book is about, and hasn't bothered to ask why I read it so much.

He doesn't ask much of me as far as being a partner either. We seem to be quite content with this. He was one who always liked to have time to himself after a hard day's work. I don't make a big deal about it if he wants to head to his brother's house to work on his motorcycle or some other project they want to do. His absence just makes it easy for me to go about this life anyway.

He hasn't tried to be particularly physical with me since the first night I was here either. Joe gets a quick peck on the lips before he leaves each morning and that seems to be enough for him. I get through it by closing my eyes and imagining Michael. I hope Michael will forgive me in the future for this. I do it for Olivia. If I'm stuck here for the rest of my life, then I want her to have a better example of loving parents than Joe and I gave her the first time around.

Though I don't want to be in this marriage in any way, I've decided not to rush to leave Joe. After all, what's the point? And I'm afraid to do anything that could disrupt my future life. What if I take the wrong path and veer off so far that I make it worse?

Some people say that you control your destiny while others say that fate will always have the same outcome regardless of your actions. No matter where you go or what you do, you will always arrive at the same destination. But I'm not so sure about that.
CHAPTER 16

It's Friday, thank GOD! However, I'm feeling a little anxious about this weekend, as we're going to the wedding of some old high school friends. In fact, Joe is an usher and I'm in charge of the guest book. The stress of having to greet a bunch of people who I seldom see in the future is adding to my nerves. We live in a small town, so everybody knows everybody. It will literally be like a mini high school reunion. In the future, I do my best to prepare for these kind of events in advance by buying a new dress, tanning and getting my hair done. Based on my closet and current hairstyle in this version of life, I guess I simply don't care.

It's quiet in the office today, as Ruth has headed to her lake cabin. Marketing is having their "Casual Friday," which means they're all wearing jeans and will go to happy hour after work. I laugh to myself because I was the one who originally implemented that tradition. I guess it happened anyway.

At three o'clock I head to the kitchen to make another cup of coffee. Normally I don't drink coffee in the afternoon, but I haven't been sleeping well at night so I need the "pick me up" to get through the rest of day. I often have dreams that cause me to wake up suddenly and I can't go back to sleep afterwards. I just lay there trying to determine if I'm having memories or making things up.

I lean against the counter while the fresh pot of coffee brews. I hear footsteps coming around the corner, then Stacy appears from behind the side of the divider wall. "Hi!" she says, chipper.

"Hi," I say smiling back.

She is dressed in a pair of sailor jeans with a cute blouse and colorful flats. She's always had the best style. She is tall and curvy, with long blonde hair and a very pretty face. She opens the fridge and pulls out a bag of baby carrots. Though she's right in front of me, I miss her. We always had so much fun working together.

I fidget with my coffee cup, not sure how to keep the conversation going. "So, do you have any fun plans this weekend?" she inquires, making small talk—one of her many talents. Her networking skills were always exceptional. This is why she later became the department director.

I get excited at the chance to visit with her. "Well, we're going to a wedding tomorrow night. I'm in serious need of something to wear, though," I laugh nervously.

"Ohhhh...sounds like a good excuse for a shopping trip," she says with a wink.

I nod in agreement. "Wish I could, I just don't know where the best place to shop is," I respond.

"Well, what are you looking for?" she asks, cocking her head to the side.

I look down at my sad excuse for a summer outfit—a long plain red floral skirt and a white t-shirt sweater. "Anything better than this," I respond sarcastically.

"There's a new store at the mall," she suggests. "In fact, I'm heading there tonight. Do you want to go with?" she asks.

I am thrilled at this prospect. I need a girlfriend, and more importantly, I need her. She was always my best shopping buddy.

I light up. "Sure!" I say. We make a quick plan for her to swing by my place and pick me up around five-thirty. When I get back to my desk, I call Joe on his cell. I have no idea if he will be agreeable to this. Michael would be, but Joe might be tighter with the wallet. He was in my "other" past. The phone rings a few times before he picks up. I can tell he's outside, based on the hammering in the background.

"Hi, Joe," I say formally.

"Hey, what's up?" he asks, sounding distracted.

"Would you mind if I go shopping with a friend from work tonight?" I ask.

"Uh....sure, I guess." he says hesitantly.

I'm immediately annoyed even though I don't I care if he's not OK with me going. Mostly I just don't want to leave Olivia with him if he's going to be moody. And I really don't like being at his mercy. After all, the bank account is combined.

He breaks the brief spell of silence on the line. "I was going to take you shopping on Sunday for your birthday, but if you want to go tonight I can just give you the money that I was going to spend on you," he explains.

My heart lifts a little. I look at the wall calendar. Holy crap! I am going to turn twenty-six on Sunday! This happened to be one of my favorite ages. Probably because it was the year I met Michael and my life changed for the better.

"Are you sure?" I say timidly, secretly hoping he is.

"Yeah, babe. You know I'm not the best person to shop with," he jokes.

I say a big thank you and hang up, then hurry back down to Stacy's office and poke my head in. "OK, we're set!" I say, with a thumbs up.

"Great!" she responds.

I walk back to my office with a smile on my face. I'm feeling a little hint of my real life in my bones again.
CHAPTER 17

The evening with Stacy is exactly what I need. We make friendly small talk during the short twenty-minute drive to the mall. Everything Stacy is telling me about her life I've already heard before. But I act interested and respond accordingly. I tell her my short life summary, sans the trapped-in-time part, and we laugh at the same things.

I'm thrown even farther back into my past with her when a mutually favorite song comes on the radio. In the old days, or the days that haven't happened...or never did, we used to blast this song on our way into town when we had a girl's night. She introduced me to so many different types of music, and I'll be forever appreciative of that.

We have a quick bite to eat at a popular hamburger place, then head into the mall. We hurriedly make our way through the stores we loved to shop at together in the future, though she doesn't know that. I stock up on shorts, shirts, jeans, shoes and better work attire, plus a nicer purse and a summer dress for the wedding, complete with espadrilles. My future life taste is influencing my past life look.

Joe had thoughtfully given me a birthday card with $300 cash before I left to shop. I gave him a sincere hug and a longer kiss on the lips than usual. I was grateful for his gesture. He told me to have a good time, and then he and Olivia headed out to his parents' for pizza. This Joe is seemingly a better version of the one I knew before.

Stacy and I are efficient shoppers, as always, and I'm pleased that I fit into most everything I find. Even if I'm smaller in this life, my muscle tone leaves something to be desired. My long skinny legs aren't as tan as they usually are in this season. The modest bras I'm wearing have no wires for support. My midsection could be a little flatter and my arms a little more defined. While looking at myself in the dressing room mirror, I mentally commit that I will fix all of this soon by bringing my future life fitness focus to my current life's out-of-shape self.

By 9:00 p.m. I've spent nearly every penny Joe gave me and I have much to show for it. I can practically replace everything I currently have in my closet and feel like a new person, which is even more important to me now.

On the way back to the car I ask Stacy if she knows a good place to get my hair done. She recommends a salon that's still around in the future, then pulls out her cell phone and dials a number. Within five minutes she has managed to get me into her personal stylist the next morning. This is one of the things I love most about Stacy. She makes things happen and always with a positive attitude.

Maybe I need to follow her example.
CHAPTER 18

Saturday morning I wake up to the sun shining brightly through the bedroom curtains. I feel refreshed and excited to reveal my new old self with an updated haircut and clothes. After hurrying out of the shower, I quickly dress, kiss Olivia and Joe goodbye and rush out the door with a cup of coffee in my hand.

I admire the beautiful day as I drive to the salon. Upon arrival, I'm immediately greeted by the hair stylist at the front desk. When she takes me back to her chair I tell her to keep it long, add layers and put in whatever color she wants. This blessing on creative liberty pleases her. I sit down, lean back, relax and let go. Today will be a good day.

After three hours in the chair I'm finished. I rush home and hurry through the front door, preparing to apologize for taking so long. When I walk in, Joe stops what he's doing and stares at me.

"Wow," Joe says. He's smiling and looks pleased. I stand there for a moment, not knowing what to say. "You look really nice, babe," he says coming over to look at the golden honey highlights woven into my dark hair. He pulls me in close, then reaches around my back and grabs my butt.

"Hey," I say nervously, pulling back but trying to hide that I'm avoiding him.

"What? You look hot," he says, getting frisky. I look around him to see where Olivia is. He notices. "Don't worry, she's napping," he says, as he leans in closer to kiss me. My body tenses. I'm not supposed to do this. I'm married. Well, somewhere else I am—to someone else!

"Oh, stop," I say coyly as I move away.

"OK, OK," he says, good-naturedly retreating. "I just haven't seen you look like this in a long time," he explains.

"Thanks," I say, softening a bit. "I appreciate that, but I've got to start getting ready. Another time?" I ask, though I don't mean it. I just don't want to hurt his feelings. After all, to him I'm his wife. But I need to respect Michael too—as his.

The whole interaction makes me uncomfortable, but I quickly shake it off, get in the shower to rinse off any stray hairs, shave my legs smooth and freshen up for the wedding. I take my time to pamper myself when I get out of the shower, applying lotion, cologne and some shimmery body powder I found the night before. I have enough time to apply polish to my toenails and fingernails—capping off my transformation. I dig out a decent set of earrings from a box under the sink and style my hair with some wavy tendrils. This is how I should start styling my hair. I laugh to myself when thinking that maybe for the first time in my life, I could be a trendsetter.

Next, I pull out the clay-red halter dress from a shopping bag. It's a silky, flowing fabric with a belt that flatters my waist. I find my new supportive strapless bra, pull the dress over my head, and put on my dark brown espadrilles. I take a look in the mirror, turning from side to side to make sure everything is in the right place. After applying a little more eyeliner and mascara and tweezing a few stray hairs near my eyebrows, I step to the mirror for one last look. I'm pleased. I look into my eyes and I smile. I'm starting to see myself again. I feel good in this body. In my body.
CHAPTER 19

4:00 p.m. comes fast. To my surprise we're not taking Olivia to the wedding with us. After dropping her off at my mom's for the evening, we quickly make our way out to the wedding site in Joe's truck. The man could not arrive without his pickup. He even removed his work tools and washed it for the occasion.

I sit quietly during the ride, staring out the window, admiring the hay fields and pastures we drive by. This view won't change much later, so I almost feel like I'm back in the future. I close my eyes and momentarily see Michael's face in my mind.

Joe starts singing along to an old song on the radio and I'm suddenly snapped back into the moment. I feel his hand reach over and stroke mine resting on the seat between us. I meet his eyes and he makes a cheesy face as he sings the chorus.

I can't help but laugh and soon find myself singing along. "Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty girls," I belt out. I haven't heard this song in years. This is the Joe I remember from high school. The one who enjoyed me and his life, when he wasn't preoccupied with a stifling job, a crappy paycheck and all the other stresses life brought then. When we were still friends and not bitter divorced enemies.

We make a left onto a dead end street and another quick left into a gravel driveway. I've been here before, or I should say later on—when another coworker gets married here...well, at least I think she does. It's a large house in the middle of a small patch of woods. It backs up to a canal that has a floating gazebo where people often have their wedding ceremony. I had a wonderful time at that wedding, though I do remember feeling a little heartsick for Michael. We were newly engaged, but awaiting his visa approval and I'd wished he were there with me instead of thousands of miles away.

I snap back into this reality when I see the rows of cars and people bringing in food and setting up flowers. I'm instantly nervous. I don't know how to live this life as Joe's wife in front of all these people. Will they notice something is off? Will they see right through me? Do they still think I'm Joe's quiet yet often crabby wife?

While hopping out of the truck, I'm careful not to bend my ankle in my wedge heels. To my surprise, Joe comes around and takes my hand. It's an odd sensation, walking hand-in-hand with him. I feel as if I should pull away for fear someone will see us. I have to keep reminding myself that this is natural. As his wife, I should be holding his hand.

I see an old high school friend standing near the entrance wearing tuxedo pants, dress shirt and a vest. I assume he's part of the wedding party. In the future I occasionally see him around town with his wife and kids, but we never get together.

Adam spots us and gets a big goofy grin on his face as he walks over towards us. "Hey, hot stuff," he says to me, then hugs me so tight that he lifts me up.

This was the Adam I adored. He was a "good old boy"—all star athlete in high school and one of the funniest people I've ever met. Joe, Adam and I used to hang around together in high school, and sometimes after. I wonder if we still do here and now.

Joe is not the jealous type, so he laughs off Adam's compliment. Adam releases me before leaning into Joe and giving him a pat on the back. "Dude, look at your wife," he says to Joe.

Joe nods in agreement. I blush. I was confident in my decision to wear this outfit, but I didn't expect the reaction I'm getting. It makes me wonder how I normally appear!

I feel my nerves start to rattle with the anxiety of the situation and I'm starting to sweat a little, and not just from the heat. I'm aware of the impending stress of having to "perform" for everyone and now I am not so sure coming was a good idea.

"So, babe, do you know where we're supposed to go?" I ask, interrupting Joe in the middle of a rafting story. He tells Adam he'll catch up with him later and leads us inside to find the mother-of-the-bride.

I take a deep breath when I see a room full of old friends preparing for the ceremony. Just let them come to you, I tell myself, attempting to calm my nerves. After receiving about a dozen more compliments on my new look and smiling until my cheeks ache, I make my way to the ladies room and sit down in the first empty stall I can find.

Breathe, breathe, breathe. I allow the cool restroom air to calm me. I inhale through my nose and exhale out of my mouth with my eyes closed. You can do this, you can do this, you can do this. I start to feel better. I know I have to play the role of Joe's happy wife. I may have been doing this all along, even though I don't remember it. After a few minutes I get up to leave. I open the stall door and look in the mirror.

No one is in the bathroom, so I lean into the mirror and quietly whisper to my reflection, "This is you, and you know almost everyone here and they know you. It's going to be OK." And with that, I stand up straight, practice a smile and return to the crowd.

As my nerves calm down, I manage to get through my guestbook duties without a hitch. Afterwards, I reward myself with a few glasses of wine at the bar. The wedding and reception are full of love, life and laughter.

After dark, when the stars come out and the moon is shining brightly in the night sky, Joe whisks me away to slow dance in the grass. He has stayed mostly sober to drive us home safely, but is definitely relaxed. A song we danced to at our wedding is playing, and Joe is feeling nostalgic—I go with it.

I've missed slow-dancing. Michael and I are loving and affectionate, but I can't recall a time we have ever really slow-danced. We only club-danced in the early years, before we married and settled down with our kids.

I rest my head on Joe's chest and close my eyes as he leads. I'm tired from the day. I can feel my body letting go of all its tension and settling into Joe's embrace. Even though I don't love him anymore, and never loved him like I love Michael, he's familiar and that makes me feel a little safer.

"Look at all the stars, babe," he says looking up. I stare at the millions of bright diamond lights filling the summer sky above us.

I fleetingly wonder if Michael is out there under the same sky. Is he still in Sweden? Is he with a girl? Will we ever meet?

I lean my head on Joe's chest again and hold back tears. I tell myself that we're hugging, not dancing. Without Joe knowing, I let him comfort me as I quietly mourn for a life I'm not sure I will ever have again.
CHAPTER 20

On Sunday Joe invites family over to celebrate my second twenty-sixth birthday. He prepares steaks, burgers and side dishes. I appreciate the effort put forth, as it's something Michael would do for me. And I muse that Joe keeps pleasantly surprising me.

I'm exhausted and slightly hungover from the few glasses of wine I drank at the wedding the night before. It seems I have a low alcohol tolerance in this body. Regardless, I decide to get myself together, shower and freshen up for the occasion—as well as mentally prepare myself to play yet another game of "this is your life!"

Around 5:00 p.m. I hear a car pull in the drive. "They're here!" Olivia squeals, while watching whoever has arrived through the window. I turn the TV off, quickly check myself in the mirror above the mantel, put on a happy face and go to answer the door.

I open the door enthusiastically and prepare to say "hello" to whoever is on the other side. Instead, I gasp and am rendered speechless. I'm completely caught off guard by the sight of two people who are standing before me. They are my dead grandparents. However, they are clearly very much alive.

"Hi, honey," my grandmother exclaims when she sees me.

I freeze where I'm standing, as she pulls me in for a hug. I am immediately transcended to another time, as I take in the achingly familiar scent of Dove soap and talcum powder. I lovingly acknowledge the feel of her soft curly hair as it brushes my cheek. I do my best to gently embrace her fragile body without hurting her. Everything about her feels real.

My grandmother appears unfazed by my stunned behavior and lingering hug when she steps aside after she's finished embracing me. Behind her stands my grandfather. He's a small, balding man who is very quiet, but warm. He slowly leans his thinning frame in to hug me. I feel my entire childhood rush through my veins.

The smell of his aftershave tickles my nose. His firm but kind embrace comforts me like a warm blanket. I feel a piece of my heart break and then heal, all at the same time. I never thought I would get the chance to feel my grandparents' physical presence again, as they both passed away in the last five years of my future life—my grandmother more recently.

I go through the motions of greeting Mary and my dad, who are right behind them, while still absorbing what has just taken place. As we move into the living room, my manner is still subdued as I watch my grandparents move around the house as if nothing about this situation is abnormal. They have no sense of my confusion and bewilderment.

I stay in the background and track their movements as they walk across the room to greet Joe when he steps out of the kitchen. I stare intently as they sit down and take the cocktails Mary has prepared for them. I take in every detail of their interaction with little Olivia. I'm amused but saddened when my grandfather takes Olivia's hands and tickles her palms with his facial stubble—something that he used to do with all of his grandkids to get a giggle.

I feel as if I'm watching a scene from a movie. I'm a guest in this peculiar reality. I'm heartbroken, yet grateful for this opportunity to see them again. I never realized how much I missed them until they were gone. I silently curse life for this cruel joke, while choking back tears that are welling up in my throat and eyes—threatening to betray me.

After getting over my initial shock of the evening, I force myself to behave normally and enjoy whatever moments I may have left with my grandparents, as they will return to California the next week. I have no idea if I'll get the opportunity to see them again during my time here. Part of me wants to beg them to move in!

As my birthday celebration progresses, I can't help but occasionally wonder how long this will last. Will the spell break? Will I find a magic portal to send me back home? I'm not sure, but for now I can't change what's happening or where I am. I have to sit tight, be patient and make do with my situation. I have a home, most of my family and friends, my daughter Olivia—and apparently, my grandparents. No, Michael isn't here, nor Stella, and maybe they never were or never will be. But for now I'm here...and I'm OK.
CHAPTER 21

Relocation

I'm so nervous. I don't know how to behave or where to stand or how to greet him. The moment is finally here. The moment we've been waiting for, for almost two years. We finally get to be together in one place, no more living thousands of miles apart.

I rush to the restroom one more time to check my makeup and hair. It has been six months since my last visit to Sweden, six months since we've actually seen or touched each other—because Michael's visa process discouraged traveling to the US. We managed to occupy ourselves with the holidays, even though we spent them apart, and successfully complete the visa process—as daunting as it was at times. It took twice as long as expected—almost one year. But we made it.

I hope that he'll be surprised when he sees me. Though he expects me to pick him up at his final destination in Portland, I took a quick flight to Seattle, so I could surprise him when he's finished with Customs. I can't believe I managed to pull it off. The timing was perfect and I got lucky that he didn't call while I was on my short plane ride.

While waiting for him, I call my best friend Kelly in California. She gives me a quick pep talk and helps calm my nerves. It's always a little awkward when Michael and I first see each other—sort of like two middle-school kids who don't know how to be around the opposite sex. We aren't the type to jump all over each other in public either.

I gaze out the large windows at another gate area, which we will depart from to go back to Portland....together. I look towards the direction of Seattle. Good things always seems to happen there.

My cell phone's ring startles me out of my reminiscence of our last trip to that city. I see his number on the screen.

"Hi, babe," I answer, smiling. I try to conceal the sound of the gate agent over the loudspeaker so he doesn't realize I'm here.

"Hey, I'm through Customs," he says, sounding tired. He can't sleep on planes and it's after midnight in Sweden.

"OK," I say. "So you remember you need to take the tram to the escalators to get upstairs to your gate?" I ask him. I'm all too familiar with the layout of the airport after multiple trips to Sweden.

"Yeah. I'm almost there," he tiredly replies.

"OK. Just let me know when you've boarded and I will see you soon," I say, a little giddy with covering my surprise. We say "I love you" and hang up.

I can hardly breathe I'm so full of excitement. I turn around to face the top of the escalator that will bring him up to where I am. I watch intently. What should I say, what should I do, where should I stand? Every time I see the top of someone's head, my stomach fills with butterflies. It feels like he's taking forever!

Finally I see him. His back is to me and I'm able to observe him without him knowing as he rides up the escalator. He's wearing his burnt orange track jacket that I have borrowed many times when chilly.

He steps off the escalator, still not paying attention to his surroundings, as he is focused on finding his gate. I slowly walk towards him from his left side. He must see me out of the corner of his eye because he turns and his eyes meet mine. I smile, he is surprised, we speed up our pace and embrace tightly. I can feel his muscles, his body, his warmth. He's really here, he's mine.
CHAPTER 22

"Happy Anniversary," Joe says, while carrying a large vase of red roses into the bedroom, where I'm getting dressed.

Out of habit I instantly cover myself, then smile and take the roses. "Thank you," I say, surprised by this unexpected event. "Happy Anniversary," I tell him, while trying to act like I'm in the loop. He gives me a lingering kiss on the lips, but I keep mine pressed tight.

I feel a sudden rush of anxiety. I don't know what I'm supposed to do in this situation. I totally forgot that our wedding anniversary was at the beginning of September. Now I have to play along and do what any good wife would do—celebrate it.

Joe and I have been getting along nicely over the past month. He's much more easy-going, helpful and friendly than the man I used to know. Something must have changed along the way. Maybe we finally became friends again.

Out of my new found respect for him I can't let him down. I have to do something nice for him. But the thought of having to be romantic is making me nervous and a little nauseous.

"Well, I have to head out, babe. I'll see you tonight after I drop Olivia at your dad's. Then it's dinner and a movie for us," he says, chipper as he walks out of the room. I immediately feel guilty, but relieved that I managed to cover up the fact that I forgot what day it was.

After the usual Olivia drop off and morning work routine of grabbing coffee, checking email and having a quick chat with Stacy, I sit down at my desk to concentrate. What am I going to do for Joe for our anniversary....and what year are we celebrating? After counting the years and determining that it would be five years, I start jotting down on a notepad things he might like.

He drinks coffee a lot. He still likes tools and hiking stuff. What would I get Michael? Typically techy gadgets or clothes. Hmmm, maybe Joe would like some clothes. What do I get a man for our anniversary when I'm not really married to him anymore? This thought makes me laugh out loud, and I marvel that I'm finding humor in this situation.

Realizing that I only have a short amount of time to get something for Joe before our date tonight, I rush to the large home improvement store on my lunch break. The store isn't arranged much differently from the way it will be later, so I'm able to head straight to the tool section without a problem.

As my eyes roam through the rows of drills, hand saws, hammers and whatever else a man might like, I realize that I have no idea what I'm looking for. I give up on my search for that type of item and head over to the barbecue and patio section.

We have an outdoor grill, but it looks a little old and rusted. I decide this is the opportunity to do something nice for Joe, because even though he doesn't know it, he has made what started out as a nightmare much more tolerable.

After finding a nice, red, shiny grill, new grilling tools and a cover, I convince the store manager to sell me the demo model so that I can buy it assembled. Telling him it was a gift for our anniversary seemed to do the trick, as he remarked that I knew the way to a man's heart.

I tell him I'll be able to reassemble the base myself once I get home, so that it will fit in my car. Then I call work and tell Ruth I'm having car trouble and I may not be able to come back in today. After putting down the back seats, moving Olivia's booster seat to the front and cursing the grill while wrestling it into the car, I'm finally on my way.

I decide to stop at the supermarket and grab a couple of nice steaks, a bottle of wine, a six pack of beer, French bread, baked potatoes and salad. This is what I'd do for Michael, so I hope that Joe will appreciate it as well.

When I get home I'm sticky with sweat from the afternoon heat. I hustle to get the grill into the backyard and set up near the patio table. I'm grateful that the September evenings are starting to cool down a bit, allowing for a lovely outdoor dining experience.

Joe...well, I guess "we"...have done a nice job of landscaping the backyard. Mature shrubs create a lush appearance along parts of the tall wooden fence and there's a large brick patio directly outside of the dining room next to a spacious patch of soft green grass for Olivia to play on. There are even tiki lanterns and hanging outdoor lights around parts of the yard. It's sort of been my sanctuary amidst the chaos of this confusing new/old life.

After setting up the grill and festooning it with a red bow I found in a box labeled "Christmas," I head to the kitchen to marinate the steak and prepare the potatoes. If I time it just right, I will have an hour left to shower and freshen up before Joe gets home.

When I'm done with my preparations, I call work one more time and am grateful when Ruth's voicemail picks up so I don't have to lie to her directly. I continue with my story about the car and how I'm taking it into the shop, but won't be back until Monday. I seem to have mastered playing hooky without guilt, because I really could care less that I'm not there.

I savor a nice hot shower, taking my time to wash my hair and have a good scrub. Even if I'm not celebrating this occasion with Michael, I'll still do my best to make it special for Joe. He works hard and I'm sure not having to get dressed up to take me to dinner and a movie will be appreciated. However, I only hope he doesn't expect anything later. I will have to come up with an excuse to get out of that as well.

After getting dressed, I check the potatoes in the oven. They're ready to prepare with my signature twice-baked potato filling. Michael loves this recipe, which makes me feel a little sad as I start the process. I turn on the radio, open the bottle of wine and pour myself a glass to relax. I don't have to rush anymore, so I might as well take my time and enjoy cooking.

I'm not used to having the house to myself. I appreciate the feel of the cool tiled floor under my bare feet. I'm comfortable in the black sleeveless summer dress I've put on, but I also feel pretty. I close my eyes and imagine Michael coming up behind me and hugging me like he often does when I am cooking. Once again, I miss him and long for his familiar affection. My heart begins to ache with sadness.
CHAPTER 23

After finishing prep work in the kitchen, I sit quietly in the living room, sipping my wine and enjoying old music that takes me back to my high school days. The potatoes are in the oven, the salad is made, so all I have to do is wait. Awhile later I hear the sound of a diesel engine approaching and my ears almost perk up like a dog's. Joe is home.

I run to the dining room and open the French doors to the patio, making it more obvious when he walks in the house that I'm outside. Then I quickly grab a beer out of the fridge, pop off the top, pick up my glass of wine from the coffee table and scurry out to stand near the new grill.

I down a gulp of wine to calm my nerves and instantly feel it kick in. I wait several minutes, as Joe tends to take his time. I hear the door close inside the house, then he calls for me.

"I'm out here," I call back. A minute later Joe's head appears in the doorway and he glances around the yard before spotting me. His eyes immediately go to the grill and light up. A big smile spreads across his face.

"What's this?" he says, grinning widely. I can't help but smile back at his expression.

I hand him his beer and raise my glass. "Happy Anniversary," I say.

After Joe inspects his new grill, he leaves to take a shower, then returns and begins cooking our steaks to perfection.

"Well done, right?" he asks, as the steaks sizzle on the grill.

"No, medium rare," I reply.

"Really?" he asks, his eyes wide open in surprise. My taste for steak has changed over the years. I shrug and nod, then he turns back to his task.

When the steaks are done we sit down and begin eating at the table outside. "These potatoes are awesome. Where did you learn to make them?" he asks before taking another big bite.

"Just something I came across," I reply smiling, while cutting my succulent and perfectly cooked steak. I have to say, the man can certainly grill.

When we're finished we sit back and enjoy the evening light, with another beer for Joe and a glass of wine for me. Joe isn't much for constant conversation, so instead we sit in silence—gazing out towards the budding sunset. Music floats into the yard from inside the house. The night is still and calm. I close my eyes and let the setting sun graze my face before it slips behind the distant hills.

"Do you remember that time we went to California after graduation and blew a tire," Joe asks, chuckling. I laugh out loud. I'd forgotten about that, but it was pretty funny. I remember how we struggled to change the flat tire on the side of the road. Two young, clueless kids.

The wine and beer continue to flow as we reminisce about camping trips we took when we were younger and other happier times that I could actually remember. I'd forgotten all of these moments over the years. Maybe I'd buried them because they weren't important to me anymore. After all, our story was over. Wasn't it?

We're still sitting on the patio when night falls. It's pleasant enough to be outdoors without a sweater. The moon is hanging high, and stars shine bright above us. Crickets are chirping in the nearby field, while the rest of the neighborhood is peaceful.

Another old country favorite begins playing on the stereo. Joe looks at me, raises his eyebrows, sets his beer down and stands up. He comes around to my side of the table and holds out his hand. I gulp the rest of my wine before placing the glass on the table, then slowly rise while taking his hand.

Without speaking we embrace into a slow dance. It feels easy and natural. Probably because I've danced with him more times than I can count. We move slowly, not talking. When the song ends Joe pulls back and looks into my eyes, but says nothing. Without thinking, I lean in and kiss him fully.
CHAPTER 24

I've never felt as much guilt and regret as I do right now, laying here in the dark. My head is still swirling from the wine, my mouth is dry, my stomach is in knots and I'm on the verge of throwing up. I hate myself, I loathe myself, I want to crawl in a hole. I'm feeling horribly guilty for doing something that's only natural between a husband and wife. I hate my body for feeling like I don't belong to him, and for not knowing where it belongs. My emotional confusion adds to my physical distress.

I roll over and pretend to be asleep when Joe comes back to bed after a trip to the bathroom. I wait to hear him breathing heavily before easing out of bed, grabbing a robe and tiptoeing out of the room. I'm feeling suffocated and in need of air, as I hurry to the patio.

The moon lights up the backyard and the stars are still glowing in the sky. Damn this evening! It set the mood for everything. I collapse into the first chair I find and sob quietly with my knees pulled up to my chest—arms around them, squeezing tight. What have I done? Why did I do it? Why does it hurt so much that I did?

I take a deep breath and try to quiet my shaky sobs. Looking up hopefully to the starlit sky, I imagine Michael sleeping peacefully somewhere. I long for him to comfort and hold me. I want to hear the beating of his heart as he embraces and protects me from myself.

"Where are you?" I whisper into the night.
CHAPTER 25

On Monday morning I head back into my usual routine with great relief. I've been more somber and sad over the past two days than I've been since first arriving in this life. I'm homesick and disappointed in myself. The worst part is that I can't tell Michael—I can't tell anyone.

At around 10:00 a.m. my cell phone begins buzzing in my purse. Though I don't recognize the number, I answer it anyway. "Hello?" I say quietly.

"Jennifer? It's Astrid," her soothing voice replies.

I'm instantly elated to hear from her. "Hi, Astrid. Sorry, I didn't realize I had given you my number," I say attempting to explain my confused sounding greeting.

"You didn't. I'm psychic, remember?" she states, before letting out a hearty chuckle. "Just kidding. I have caller ID and I wrote it down when you made your appointment."

I laugh too, but louder than I should. The tension in my body releases a little.

"So, my dear, I have some good news," she says. I perk up. Good news is exactly what I need right now.

"A friend of mine came into town over the weekend. We've been doing some....research, so to speak...on your situation. He would like to meet you. He specializes in hypnosis."

I'm silent for a minute while digesting what she's just told me. I've only seen hypnosis performed in magic shows or television talk shows. Just the idea of letting someone else take over my mind without me knowing what's going on makes me feel vulnerable and out of control.

"Jennifer, are you there?" she inquires.

"Sorry, yes. I just needed to process that for a minute," I respond honestly. She lets out an empathetic laugh.

"I know it sounds...well...like a circus trick. But I promise he's one of the best hypnotists I have ever come across. I even let him hypnotize me," she says reassuringly.

I don't know why I trust her opinion, but I do. What do I have to lose, anyway? I've already lost what I'm certain was my life.

We set up an appointment for early that evening. I call Joe to tell him I forgot I had a counseling appointment. He's more than understanding and willingly agrees to care for Olivia. He is still euphoric from the weekend and will do almost anything I ask. The thought of what it took to achieve his compliance, makes me feel guilty and nauseous all over again.

I kill the next few hours vacillating between curiosity and nerves, while conducting some online research about hypnosis. I abruptly stop doing that after watching some short video recordings that only make me more nervous.

For the rest of the day I distract myself with small tasks, many of which require me to head to the Marketing department. This leads to several brief conversations and joke sessions with Stacy and Steve, which help ease my tension. They don't even know that they're the only ones in this life who really haven't changed. I wish I could stay in this cocoon of familiarity. But even more, I wish I could break free and fly away.
CHAPTER 26

It's a little after 5:00 p.m. when I pull into Astrid's driveway. There's an old Volkswagen minibus with Washington state plates parked by her house. I assume it must belong to "Mr. Hypnotist." I guess he would arrive in a car like a normal person and not some black limo or hearse, like I'd previously imagined.

I head towards the front door as quickly as possible. Since I've been so public lately, I'm legitimately worried about someone seeing me this time and wondering why I'm here. Or worse, telling Joe they saw me at some psychic shop.

After knocking, the doorknob turns slowly. A tall, skinny, older gentleman with salt and pepper hair opens the door. His nose is unusually large and I try not to stare. His blue-grey eyes meet mine and he extends a long, large hand.

"Hello, Jennifer. I'm John," he says softly. His greeting is as warm as Astrid's was. I can see why they are friends.

I feel instantly relaxed when walking into Astrid's house. Once again, it's cool and quiet. I take notice that it's almost as if I've entered another dimension when setting foot in her home. Maybe I have.

Astrid emerges out of what I presume is the kitchen with two cups of hot tea and hands one to John. "Hi, Jennifer," she says, with a big smile. "I see you've met John."

I nod and smile back.

She leans in towards me for a hug after handing John his mug of tea. I take the embrace fully. She must sense that I need it because she lingers. She steps back and looks me in the eyes.

"Oh, I see," she says sympathetically. I cock my head a little, now confused.

"A line has been crossed recently. Poor thing. But try not to feel guilty," she quietly comforts me. If I didn't truly believe in her skills before, I definitely do now.

We all sit down and John explains to me a little about himself and the process of hypnosis. He asks me questions about how I came to be here—in this new life. And what I remember about my other life and what the differences or similarities are between the two.

I go back to the beginning and talk about Michael and Stella and the life I remember before. However, it feels like I'm forgetting small things, or maybe I'm just rushing through my story.

"So your husband in the future, where does he live in this current year?" he asks.

"He lives in..." I hesitate, the name of Michael's home town is on the tip of my tongue—but I can't recall it. "Well...he lives in Sweden...." I stammer out. I'm at a loss for the name of the town. John can tell I'm struggling.

"Are you OK?" he asks, concerned. My distress is clearly evident. I am drawing a complete blank.

He leans over and pats my knee. "It's OK. Your mind has been going through a lot. Let's move on." I sit quietly, staring at the floor while concentrating. Why can't I remember where Michael is from? I've been there several times, haven't I?

We continue the interview process. John takes a lot of notes. Astrid is very curious and sits next to me, very focused on my answers. I take this as a sign of support.

After we finish, John asks if he can try to hypnotize me for a few minutes. He mentions that not everyone can be hypnotized, or at least not easily. I hesitate, but he assures me nothing bad will happen and that if I'm curious about it, the session will be audio recorded and I can listen later.

I agree, then lie down on the soft velvet couch and take a deep breath. John's voice softens into a lulling tone that completely relaxes me. I could easily fall asleep right now. He walks me through the process and tells me what he's going to do step-by-step, and what he wants me to do at the same time. Then he begins to count.

I feel myself get lighter, lighter, lighter...then lights on!

"And you're back," I hear John say.

I open my eyes and blink a few times. I guess it didn't work. John is sitting at the end of the couch, smiling at me. Astrid has moved to a chair nearby and looks pleased. I sit up fully.

Astrid leans over and I hear the rewinding process of an old cassette tape. She presses play. The crackling audio begins. The quality is poor, but I can still hear our voices clearly.

John: "Jennifer, I want you to look around. Can you tell me what you see, or what you hear?"

Me: "It's early morning. I can hear birds."

John: "What are you wearing?"

Me: "I...I'm wearing a large t-shirt. It's a man's."

John: "Good. Where are you?"

Me: "I'm lying in a bed."

John: "Are you alone?"

Me: "...No...someone is in the bed with me."

John: "Can you see who it is?"

Me: "Um...it's...it's my boyfriend. Michael."

John: "Do you know where you are, or what house you are in?"

Me: "We...we are at his house, in his room. We are in Helsingborg."

John: "Good, good."

Astrid stops the playback of the recording and smiles proudly. "It worked," she says.
CHAPTER 27

After the session John is thrilled—not only that he could hypnotize me, but that I remembered a small detail that I'd forgotten in my non-hypnotized state. However, I'm worried and nervous that I have no clear memory of the place that I described on the tape. I'm fearful of what that might mean.

I noticed this change a week or so ago, but I hadn't thought much about it. There was a moment while watching Olivia play with her dolls that I struggled to remember if Stella had any baby dolls of her own. I also couldn't remember what car Michael drove. I have yet to determine that answer.

I explain this to John and Astrid but other than letting me hear this first session to prove it worked, they insist on keeping what I reveal in my sessions from me for the time being. They believe that will be more helpful in figuring out what may have happened to me.

John shares that he has never actually met a person who was having memories of their future. But he does say it's something similar to time travel, without the experience of actually moving about space and time. It appears that I might be recollecting my future, not moving back and forth from it. All of this information is very science fiction-like to me, so it just confuses me more.

He also shares his theory on how destiny is just a series of opportunities. Destiny leads you to the opportunity, but we as humans make choices to accept or deny those opportunities and therefore we may change our fate in the process. According to him, life will continue to provide predestined opportunities. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense at the time, but it does strangely provide me some comfort. It also might explain why Nancy is alive in my future life, but not in this one. If this is true, then fate is a fickle little creature.

John is heading back to Washington the next day, with plans to return the following week and meet again for a number of sessions. He requests that I journal as many specific memories of my life in the future as I can, but not reread them. He will then use my journal to guide me through the hypnosis sessions and see if I reveal more detail.

I appreciate the interest and the insight, but the session doesn't give me any concrete answers, like how do I get back? Will I ever get there again? Does Michael really exist? Will Stella? Are my memories from the past, the future or another life entirely? Or am I having a deja vu that refuses to end? I just want answers, plain and simple. I need to know which life I'm supposed to live.
CHAPTER 28

In the weeks that follow my first hypnosis session, life and work are getting more bearable. Stacy and I are becoming fast friends, just as we did before. Joe and I are getting along well and I'm managing my duties as a mom to Olivia, as I normally would. I tend to let her preoccupy my time to avoid being alone with Joe, even though my guilt from the night of our anniversary is dissipating as time goes on.

We've succeeded at falling into a routine of sorts. This makes it easier for me to be in this body at this time. Sometimes I watch nature shows with Joe, or he sits through what he believes are new episodes of my favorite television medical drama, even though I'm sure I've seen them before. It's small incidences like this that confuse and distress me. Why do I know the outcomes of television shows, yet I can no longer recall Michael's and my anniversary date?

I see my parents more frequently. Now that fall is here and the days are shorter it's too dark and cold to have family barbecues outside, so we try to go to their houses for dinner regularly. Mary has grown on me and I appreciate how she cares for my dad, though I often think about Nancy and wonder if I ever got the chance to say goodbye.

I continue to do as John requests in between our sporadic sessions. I journal during lunch breaks and whenever I have any sort of memory of my other life, though I've noticed that some of my memories are slipping away. It's almost like when you wake up from a vivid dream. You remember it so clearly at first, but later in the day it wears off and the details are less clear.

I try to visit with John at least every three weeks and the sessions are always more in depth each time. I've kept my agreement with him that I would not review my journal entries nor inquire about what I reveal in the sessions. He wants to compare his session recordings with my journal entries to see the similarities. I was opposed to the agreement at first, but later gave in—as the passion I once had to find the truth is starting to dwindle.

Astrid usually joins in the sessions to show support, but I know she is mostly intrigued by the process. She's been helpful to me by providing guidance for managing my current life with less emotional turmoil. She still believes my story, even if I'm starting to question it myself. She is the only person who I'm sure doesn't judge me. Unfortunately, her psychic abilities for my life are also blurry at the moment, so she can't tell me if Michael even exists or will be in my future anymore. This psychic block aggravates her, as she's never experienced it before.

I sleep better through the night now and even find that I'm dreaming of Joe and Olivia. Sometimes I see a familiar figure in my dreams and I'm certain it's Michael, but his face isn't really there.

Every once in a while when Olivia speaks I think that it's Stella's voice that I hear, but I no longer feel the same pull in my gut like I used to. I often wonder if this is my body's survival instinct kicking in so that I won't go crazy or fall into a depression. Or maybe it's my way of learning to let them go.
CHAPTER 29

"Happy New Year!" we all say in unison, before clinking our glasses and hugging each other. We're spending the holiday with our old friends...well, to me they're old friends...and our parents at our house. We made a big buffet of food, desserts and drinks and sang along with a rented karaoke machine. I have to admit, it's been one of the most fun nights I've had in years.

The Christmas holiday was easier than I expected it would be. I focused on making Christmas special for little Olivia and surrounding myself with friends and family. However, there were times that I could feel something was missing, and there was always a light undercurrent of sadness flowing through me.

I'm recently finding my desire to journal is waning, and I'm doing it less and less. There are now significant gaps in my memories and I'm no longer as motivated to remember things as I was before. I wonder at times if it's because I'm preoccupied with my new life.

Work is improving and I'm enjoying it more. I have a social outlet in the Marketing department, even if I'm not really part of it. Steve has even given me a few cross-over projects when I've had down time in Operations, and he seems impressed by my performance.

Joe and I are getting along well too. I still don't have the desire to be intimate with him and have managed to avoid any contact since that one time on our anniversary. It's been tricky to do so, though, and has created a few arguments. Lucky for me he hasn't caught on that I have claimed to have had my period approximately eight times in the last four months. I also tend to wait for him to go to bed first to ensure he is sound asleep by the time I crawl into bed. Though sometimes I let him cuddle with me, just to experience the comfort of some kind of affection—but I never naturally gravitate to him.

Even though I can no longer see the man from my future as clearly in my mind, or remember details of our life together as often or as vividly, I'm very aware I still have a place for him in my heart and soul. I can feel it. And I've decided that I will not cross any lines with Joe until that feeling goes away completely.

I'm seeing my other child's face less and less in Olivia's. The two are sort of morphing into the same person. I wonder if that other little girl really exists at all. What if I just had some crazy beautiful dream when I left Joe and the panic attacks started? What if I really did make up some alternate reality to escape from a life I didn't want with him? These questions often cross my mind, but now that I'm more stable in my current life I don't feel the need to explore them as much as I did before. Maybe that's a good thing—maybe it's for the best.
CHAPTER 30

The Kiss

The sunset shines upon us as we walk to Stacy's house to get a propane tank for the barbecue we're having at my mom's while she's out of town. Stacy recently rented a house two blocks away from my mom's, which now makes it convenient to visit them both. Since I'm house-sitting alone, Michael decided to stay and spend the last few days of his trip there with me. It's a bittersweet weekend for me. I'm grateful to be spending this precious time I have left with Michael, but I'm dreading Sunday when he has to leave.

In unison, we step off the sidewalk to cross the quiet suburban street. Michael slips his hand into mine and I enjoy the feeling of his cool, dry palm pressed against mine. Our hands fit together perfectly.

We leisurely make our way to Stacy's back yard, disconnect the tank from her grill and head back out of the gate that connects to the alley. Michael is carrying the heavy tank with both hands while I walk slightly ahead of him, back towards my mom's.

I stop at the corner before crossing the street and look back at him trailing behind with the tank. The rosy orange glow of the setting sun frames Michael's silhouette as he continues towards me. As Michael approaches, he sets the tank down and takes a breath. I'm pleasantly surprised when he gently pulls me in close and kisses me softly. This was always meant to be.
CHAPTER 31

I sit upright on Astrid's couch. I'm suddenly feeling tired and unsettled. John leans back in the chair next to the couch. His legs are crossed with his notepad perched on his knee. My journal is sprawled open on the table beside his chair. The room is quiet, with the exception of the crackling fire and the ticking clock. Astrid is sitting at the end of the couch. No one's speaking. There's an awkwardness hanging in the air.

"What?" I ask them, confused by their expressions.

"First, I'd like to say, that it seems you really, truly love this man." Astrid carefully states. John nods in agreement.

"But, Jennifer," she continues, "Over the past few months I...we...have seen your intensity to find the truth diminish. Initially you were so certain of your future life, and I could feel it from you. I occasionally even had visions of the memories you told me about. But they are gone," she says, now appearing concerned.

"What do you think that means?" I ask, as a sense of foreboding gnaws at the pit of my stomach.

John sifts through his book slowly and taps his pencil on the corner of a page while thinking. I can tell he is trying to find the right words.

"We are starting to think that your soul is settling into this current life. Astrid and I have discussed this at length and we don't sense in you the same emotional or physical attachment to this future or other life that we sensed when we first met you," he says.

He reaches for my journal and flips through it quickly. "Your entries are becoming shorter, with less detail. They're almost sloppy and forced—as if it's a homework assignment that you don't want to do. Yet when I put you under hypnosis your tone is extremely different and we hear the emotional attachment again," he explains.

Astrid sits up and puts her hand on my knee. "Jen, we could go on and on and listen to your recollections of whatever your future was—or maybe it's a parallel life or something that could have happened if you had taken a different path—but we aren't sure this is serving you well."

I'm beginning to get angry, but I don't know why. I'm frustrated by what I'm hearing. I've been telling them all of these memories when I'm in an alternate state, but they won't let me know what these memories are in order to avoid "contaminating the purity of thought," as John likes to put it. I understand his reasoning, but I'm annoyed that I am not allowed to hear what they are. Maybe if I did, it would bring something back!

"So now what? What are you saying?" I demand, feeling a mix of panic and anger. Astrid sits up more straightly, faces me and takes my hand into hers.

"Jennifer I don't know how this is helping you. I cannot see how you will get back to this other place. I used to see glimpses of your and Michael's life together. I could see a wedding day, I could see the birth of a child, but the visions have stopped," she says as tears start to pool in the bottom of her grey eyes. My body begins to tremble with nerves.

"Jennifer, this has been so fascinating," John begins sympathetically. "I have never come across someone seeing a future that was only within years of their current life and providing such detail, even things that are revealing themselves in your community without you having any way of knowing about them. I could go on and on listening to you, but this would only be selfish of me. I have no ideas about how to get you back to that life, or if I could, what the risks might be," he finishes, soundly slightly frustrated with himself.

"So, you are just giving up on me?" I fearfully ask. The panic is now in my voice, and rising. "You just want me to stay here, in this life, and not ever see them again?" I stand up and shout at them. "I can't let this go. I can't let _them_ go! I need to get back to them. You have figure out a way!"

"Jennifer, I can't see you with _anyone_ anymore!" Astrid says abruptly.

Her firm words are a stunning blow. I'm frozen where I stand, and unable to find the words to disagree. It feels like I'm disconnecting from something I was firmly attached to. My other loved ones are slipping even further away from me. And the ones I'm with now may be better off without me. The realization of the situation slashes, burns and leaves me without air. Where do I belong?

"Jennifer, I'm so sorry. Something has changed over the last few weeks. It seemed to be with the turn of the new year. I used to see who I believe was Michael, but then I also saw you and Joe. I also saw the birth of a child. It's all so choppy and hard to make sense of, but it's what I'm envisioning. I don't even know who is with who, in what time or why. I wish there was something I could do. And lately....I see you alone," she remorsefully explains.

Astrid stands up, and slowly walks over to me. Cautiously, she begins to rub my back, before wrapping her arm around me. I surrender. There's nothing she can do. There is nothing anyone can do.

I draw in a breath that almost chokes me, then cover my eyes with my hands and begin to sob. Astrid guides me down to the couch and lightly strokes my hair while I cry. I know she's telling the truth. She has nothing to gain by lying. And I now know that I have to prepare myself to move on.
CHAPTER 32

The rain is coming down harder as I drive back home from Astrid's. The sky is fully 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, unable to think. I can only feel the raw emptiness of everything being taken away from me, yet my body is fighting to hang on. I'm hurting everywhere. My cell rings from inside my purse. I know it's Joe, but I don't want to talk to him. Instead, I slowly make my way back to the house. What's 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 slip off my soaked shoes 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 flatly.

"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 that's hanging down by my side and tucks his finger under my chin, gently lifting my face to meet his gaze.

"What's wrong? You have a bad day?" he asks tenderly, his face full of concern.

I look into his eyes and take a deep breath. This is my husband. This life exists because of a 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 way for him that I felt for someone else who may not 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've 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's some truth behind his words.

Olivia is thriving at school and home. She's just started 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's been working overtime due to severe weather conditions. We have had a series of heavy wind storms and he's 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 big party with family and friends at a local pizza parlor goes as planned. I'm almost finished wrapping her gifts, while Joe is gone picking up the cake, when Olivia softly knocks on our bedroom door. I hurriedly put a bow on the biggest and last gift—a doll house.

"Mommy?" she asks sweetly on the other side of the door.

"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. Her demeanor tugs at my heart, helping clear the traces of sadness I occasionally feel.

"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's a healthy-sized child, who's never been weak or fragile in stature and is perfectly proportioned. In fact, she'll be as tall as me by the time she reaches middle school. Won't she?

She folds into me and I hold her close, taking in her sweet shampoo smell. Olivia is my anchor, my beacon, the one consistent thing that keeps me grounded to whatever life I live.

When we arrive, the restaurant is chaotic with another party in progress. I ask Joe to order the pizzas and drinks before 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 I'm slowly accepting as 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 do a double-take upon noticing a younger woman approaching him. I'm unable to see who she is with her back facing me, but Joe gets a big smile on his face and hugs her. I feel more curiosity than jealousy when seeing his boyish expression. He looks a little nervous, but 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, even though I am still unable to recognize her.

Joe signals for me to come over, so I put down the plates and quickly cross the restaurant towards them. I almost stop in my tracks when getting closer to them. I'm unsure of how to act when I finally approach her. It's Rachel, Joe's wife.
CHAPTER 34

The party goes off without a hitch. Everyone eats all the pizza 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's humming along.

"Rachel looked good, didn't she?" Joe asks me out of the blue. I'm not sure how to respond, other than to agree. Earlier, when he called me over, I'd followed Joe's lead and hugged her too. We made small talk for a few minutes before my parents showed up and we were forced to tend to Olivia's party. It was a welcomed interruption, as I was extremely uncomfortable, even though I hid it well.

We had all gone to school together until Rachel moved before our freshman year of high school. I remembered her as a friendly and warm person, a pretty girl who always wore a smile. From what I recall, shortly after our divorce she moved back into town when her grandmother fell ill. I assume that's when Joe and Rachel reconnected.

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 started to fear that has been taken away—and their happy future might possibly never exist. I felt in some way responsible, 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?

The fact is though, I'm too afraid to make any impulsive changes that could mess up anymore of my life than what I've already done—whatever that may have been. And 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'll have a friend to chat with again.

In the days since Olivia's party I've 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's no point in keeping it any longer. And besides, 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.

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 baffles me. The conclusion I've 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's California?" I ask, happy to hear a friendly voice.

"Great! Can you do me a big favor?" he requests.

"Sure. What's up?" I say, 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 gets excited by this request, but I'm not sure why. Sound and Clear has always employed interns for Engineering and Marketing, so this isn't anything unusual. However, for some reason butterflies are lightly swirling in my stomach. Maybe I'm nervous about the task at hand.

I take down the information, hang up and quickly dial the number Steve gave me. After arranging to meet the housing manager, to sign paperwork and provide her with the deposit, I tell Ruth I have to leave early. At 3:00 I head out to the old fraternity house that now offers housing for international and low income students.

After finding 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's no sign of life in the main area. I peek into a hall entrance to see if there's anyone around who can help me. I feel as if I shouldn't be here, but at the same time, it feels as if I've been here before. I question if perhaps I was here during the brief period of time I worked in property management.

I notice a door to my left that looks like it leads to a basement. A sign reads "Manager, downstairs 1B." I'm now 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, before the door opens very slightly so the person on the other side can just barely see me. There's 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, for a woman her age. She's awkward, but smiling nevertheless.

"Oh, hi. Thanks for coming so soon. I'm Tonya," she says, extending her hand. Her handshake is weak, but polite.

After a quick exchange of paperwork and the deposit, she hands me the keys. I thank her and head back up the stairs. Upon reaching the top I pause and take another look around the kitchen. It's ugly and bare and smells like stale cooking oil. Nonetheless, it is oddly familiar.
CHAPTER 36

The Stranger

It's a hot summer day. We're walking 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's 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 growing thirsty. "Wait," I call out between breaths. It takes so much effort to speak. The figure stops, but he doesn't turn around. After catching my breath, I stand up straight and notice that the air has suddenly become quiet. No bird song, no sound of the breeze. Nothing but cold silence.

"Who...are...you?" I force from my mouth. The figure doesn't move, nor speak. Instead, he fades away. The air is now colder. It's become dark. The rain begins to fall.
CHAPTER 37

The buzz of the alarm clock unkindly wakes me from my slumber. I'm not ready for today because I know it will be chaotic, with Marketing returning from their trip. And helpful me, committed to helping 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've 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 dreamt about, so it doesn't make any difference to me. Joe grabs his keys, 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 trying to snap out of it. Olivia decides to be picky about the pants she's wearing this morning and won't cooperate. I'm beginning 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's now in capris in the dead of 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 that I typically avoid by taking back roads. 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 resort to turning up the radio and singing 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 taxi at this time of morning. They're usually more commonly used to transport drunken college students home from the bars at night. The light turns green and the left lane moves faster. As the cab passes me, I get a glimpse of the passenger in the backseat and stomp 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 with adrenaline, I take a minute to collect myself. The taxi is gone while I'm at a standstill. I look in the rearview mirror and see that the driver who hit me is now out of his car and walking towards my driver side. I'm pretty sure it's his fault because he rear-ended me, but I don't know why I stopped so suddenly. I try to stop shaking enough to roll down my window.

"Are you OK?" he asks, concerned.

I nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. How about you?" I ask.

"Yes," he says, still frazzled.

I grab my purse and insurance information from the glove box and get out of the car. We quickly inspect the damage and surprisingly find that besides a slightly dented license plate on his car, there's no visible damage to mine and no point in filing a claim or calling the police. Luckily we were barely moving in traffic when he hit me. But we exchange information just in case. I get in the car, phone Ruth at work to explain why I'm late, and get back on the road.

I'm still a little shaken up when I pull into the parking lot at work, so I take a deep breath and try to calm down so I don't appear so frazzled. I see Stacy's car parked in her space and I'm immediately filled with excitement and relief to see my friend soon.

I hustle into the building and put the creamer away in the kitchen. As I turn the corner to the hall, I can already hear upbeat voices and laughter coming from Marketing. The sound is soothing to me and eases my stressed mind.

"Hey guys!" I say cheerfully, walking through entrance to the Marketing office.

Stacy turns away from the group of people gathered talking in the middle of the main room to face me. "Hey you!" she says, rushing over to give me a hug.

"It's so good to see you!" I say squeezing her back.

"I want you to meet our new interns," she says, moving out of the way to make the introductions.

My body freezes instantly and my legs lock under me. Suddenly I can't breathe. My head starts to swim and I feel the blood drain from my brain, as my heart pounds hard in my chest. My eyes are locked on the man standing in front of me. Bright lights are flashing all around me. I'm blinded by the colors and images. My eyes sting and my pulse pounds in my head. A million images collide in my mind all at once and I can't make sense of anything, it's all happening so fast.

Images of us flash rapidly through my brain. A kiss, an intimate moment, a wedding, a birth. Christmas, New Years, a birthday, a funeral. Moments of laughter, tears, anger, and moments of love. Everything is us and it's all colliding together at once. The images suddenly stop as quickly as they came.

The rest of the room is blurry, but only he is in focus. He stares at me with a confused look on his face. "Michael," I gasp, before my legs give out and my body hits the floor.

We are alone in a dark room with only the light of the moon shining upon us. The shadows of the night contour his face.

"It's you," I say to him. He nods and softly smiles while staring back into my eyes. He holds me closer. I breathe in his familiar scent.

"Where have you been?" I whisper, trying not to cry.

"With you," he answers. "I'm always with you."

"I've missed you," I say, leaning into him more. I don't want to let go. I don't want him to leave me again.

"I know you did," he says. "I'm sorry I was gone for so long."

I begin to cry. He gently strokes my hair and kisses my forehead. "Don't leave me again," I beg.

"You either," he replies.
CHAPTER 38

I'm pulled out of the darkness when I hear Stacy's voice. "Jen, Jen, it's OK."

She has my head in her lap and is sitting me up slightly. Steve is kneeling down at my other side. I can feel the presence of other people in the room around us. I try to open my eyes, but the fluorescent lighting overhead is piercing them.

"Can someone turn off the lights?" Stacy asks to the room when seeing me struggle. Seconds later the room is darker, with only shadowed sunlight filtering through the blinds.

It's quiet now, and whoever is in the room is speaking in hushed tones.

"Jen, the ambulance is on its way," Stacy whispers to me.

I shake my head, and remain lying in Stacy's lap. "I don't...I don't need it." I whisper.

"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 är 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 woke 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.

Their standoffishness is simply a cultural custom and not a sign of a lack of interest. Later in our marriage, friends and family, will often comment about how affectionate, warm and outgoing Michael has become. They never knew that he's always had this side to him—it's ultimately why I fell in love with him. And, as the years went by, he concealed his emotions less and less. He integrated perfectly into my very loving family, and expanded it.

From what I remember about our future life, he wholeheartedly embraced fatherhood. He didn't care what people thought of him when he laughed too hard at Stella's silly faces or cute baby noises. He was always quick to change a diaper, give her a bath or push her stroller. And I'm certain that I ended up falling more in love with him because of it.

Everyone else may not see those qualities in him in this time, but I'm grateful that I took the chance to get to know him, and was once lucky enough to be the recipient of his loving nature.

"So, I wanted to talk to you about something," Stacy says, after finishing her sandwich at the local eatery we frequently have lunch at.

"Oh yeah?" I respond curiously.

She gets a smirk on her face, takes a drink of iced tea and sits up straight. "I was talking to Steve. He's very impressed with you lately and thinks you might be a good addition to our department," she says, grinning.

I'm elated and have to stop myself from shouting with delight. "Really?" I say, trying not to giggle nervously.

She nods. "So, what does that mean?" I ask. "What would I do?"

"Well, it's not public yet, but I'm being promoted to a director position. This means my spot is open and we need someone to do customer service, quotes, product demo's and so forth," she explains. YES, YES, YES!

"Do I need to apply, or something?" I ask, trying not to sound overly eager.

She shakes her head. "The job is yours if you want it," she says. "Steve has already talked to Ruth, and after much convincing she agreed to let you transfer."

I'm floored, but in a very good way. I am starting to get more of my future life back. And now I'll be even closer to Michael on a daily basis.

I reach my hand out to shake hers. "It's a deal!" I say. She laughs as she jokingly shakes my hand. I feel victorious.
CHAPTER 43

It happens to be Valentine's Day when I'm officially inducted into the Marketing department. I have just finished displaying picture frames of Olivia on the shelf above my computer, when a flower delivery person appears in my doorway.

"Can I help you?" I ask.

She turns the vase of red roses around and looks at the delivery card. "I'm looking for Jennifer Harris," she says. I'm caught a little off guard, but quickly realize that they're probably from Joe.

I take the flowers and thank her. She wishes me a happy Valentine's Day and leaves my office. It's been years since I've received a flower delivery. Though it's always a nice gesture, I find it's also a little embarrassing when everyone else takes notice.

I take out the card from its tiny envelope. "Happy Valentine's Day. Love you. Love, Joe," it reads.

I place the vase down on the corner of my desk and sit back down in my chair. I now feel a pang of guilt for purposefully being distant from Joe since Michael's arrival.

Luckily Joe hasn't brought my behavior up. Instead, he's been careful with me since the fainting episode. I guess he assumes that I'm still not "one hundred percent." If he only knew.

I feel like I owe him an explanation, but what would I say? "Sorry Joe, but my future husband has just arrived and I need to take Olivia and be with him now." I don't think so. Not to mention that Michael is entirely unaware of a future that only I can recall, so leaving wouldn't do me any good.

And as far as Michael and I go, we occasionally engage in small talk, but our contact is still very limited. It's not as if I can actually talk to him about Stella or reminisce about the times we've had together. At this point, I'm just a girl that behaved oddly before passing out on his first day working here.

"Nice flowers," a familiar male voice says from the hallway. I look up and see Michael standing outside my office door. My stomach instantly begins to flutter. He's supposed to have the day off, so I wasn't expecting to see him—THIS is a real Valentine's Day gift.

"Thanks. They're from Joe," I respond, slightly uncomfortable by this admission.

"What for?" he inquires.

I'm surprised by the question. "Well...for Valentine's Day," I reply, almost annoyed. I quickly realize my reaction is a trait from our relationship. I tended to get irritated with Michael for not knowing what I thought were obvious things.

"Oh yeah. I forgot the US likes to celebrate all kinds of holidays," he says, poking fun.

I roll my eyes at his sarcasm. "It's a good excuse for someone to get flowers," I say, a little playfully. He shakes his head and laughs it off.

"Why are you here?" I ask him, changing the subject. "I thought you had the day off?"

"Just need to get my check so we can go to Portland to buy a car," he answers.

Instantly my heart jumps and my stomach drops. The warm tingling sensation flows quickly through my body. I know this story. This has happened before!

I sit quietly for a minute while memories play out in my mind. Michael and Bjorn will go buy the car, only to barely make it out of the city when the car starts acting up. Because they aren't familiar with their surroundings, they won't know how to find their way back to the private seller they bought it from. Within a week, the car will have turned out to be a lemon. They will sell if for $50 at a scrap metal junkyard and be out $1000.

"Are you OK?" Michael asks, interrupting my train of thought.

"Um...you sure that's a good idea?" I ask him, trying to sound normal.

He looks at me strangely. "Well, we have to get to work somehow," he says, half joking.

"I can pick you up and take you home," I quickly offer.

He takes a minute to ponder my suggestion. "I couldn't ask you to do that," he politely declines. "You have a family and I don't want you to have to worry about taking us to work every day."

"Well, eventually I will anyway," I say without hesitation.

Oh my God, I remember that now too! I become their main form of transportation after the fiasco with the car. In fact, this is one of the things that actually helps us bond!

I quickly determine that offering him transportation is a good idea, as it will expedite us getting to know each other...again. From what I remember, the first time around it took a couple of months until I warmed up to him. And by the time we were closer, we had only a very short period of time together before he had to leave to go back to Sweden. If things play out the same, he's going to leave again. And if I don't hurry up and befriend him, he'll leave without caring that he's left me behind.

I'm now feeling more of an urgency at getting him to fall in love with me. If we can get more time together, then maybe a spark will ignite, or magic will happen, and we'll undo whatever spell that's brought me here to this warped past.

Unfortunately, Michael is completely unaware of what I'm mentally contemplating, and is looking at me strangely now. I realize I need to cover for what must seem to him like some very odd behavior on my part.

"Look, I know how these things go," I casually say. "You'll buy a cheap car, it will be more hassle than it's worth and you'll wish you had saved the money. How about we try it for a couple of weeks and if you find you really need a car, then no hard feelings," I suggest. I'm hoping he'll be convinced this is the best solution.

He shrugs. "Let me talk to Bjorn and get back to you," he says.

I smile, feeling like I deserve a pat on the back for my quick planning. "Sounds good," I reply lightheartedly.

Michael thanks me for the offer, teasingly wishes me a Happy Valentine's Day, and then leaves. Regardless, I'm smiling as I turn back to my computer screen, until the startling sound of my cell phone vibrating against my desk makes me jump. Irritated by the interruption, I quickly snatch it up. When seeing Astrid's number on the caller ID, I hustle to close my office door.

"Hi, Astrid," I say in a hushed voice. "What's up?"

"What are you doing?" she slightly accuses.

"What do you mean?" I ask, thoroughly confused.

"Honey, I'm not sure what's happening. I'm sitting here meditating and focusing on you, and all of a sudden I see a flash and what I was seeing in my mind, just disappears. Something just changed and I don't know why, but my guess is that you have something to do with it," she explains.

"I'll be right over," I tell her before hanging up.

What did I do?
CHAPTER 44

The curse and the blessing about Astrid is that she's a psychic. She can see so much of the future, but then she also knows when I have done something in the present that maybe I shouldn't have—something that could change the future.

When I get to her house, she explains what she'd been seeing in her mind. She says when she has her visions it's almost as if they're being drawn in front of her. During her vision of me, something happened and the sketch suddenly stopped. No matter how hard she tried to get the vision back, it wouldn't start again.

I tell her about my conversation with Michael. I explain that I didn't want him to buy the car because I remembered what happened the first time around. I wanted him to avoid the hassle. She tells me this action may be interrupting what's supposed to naturally occur. By interfering and changing the course of events I could risk changing fate. This idea scares me. If this is true, then one small action could possibly change the entirety of this situation—thus changing the outcome of my life.

Because we still can't review my session recordings, we have no way of knowing how to get back on course if we are too far off of it, or if it matters at all. This leaves me very perplexed on how to behave. Should I call Michael and rescind my offer? Should I just go along with how I left things? Will I get another opportunity to get back on a natural course if I do?

My memories only come in spurts, and usually happen when something triggers them. When they do it's just like a deja vu, I can see it all too clearly. I can feel it too. In the span of seconds, a wash of warmth comes over me, accompanied by a bit of dizziness, and something that feels like a "zap" in my brain, followed by a sense of euphoria. It's almost like my body is settling back into itself when this happens.

I tell Astrid about this, and she immediately writes it down. She's been keeping a log of what she envisions, current experiences that I have with Michael and any other details that might help John on his quest in Mexico.

I feel like we are grasping for anything tangible—but there's nothing to grasp. We can't find any patterns, similarities or anything else that makes any sense. Such is my life.
CHAPTER 45

It is 6:00 a.m. on Saturday when I'm woken by a text message from Astrid. Luckily it doesn't wake Joe, who is sound asleep. The house is still dark and grey from the seemingly endless winter.

I hurry out of bed delicately, so as not to disturb Joe, before rushing to the kitchen to call her. I'm still groggy from a fitful night's sleep when dialing her number, which makes the task harder.

"Astrid? Is everything alright?" I urgently whisper.

"I just heard from John," she replies, her voice full of excitement. "He's heading to a village near Guatemala. Apparently there is a man in the area that had a very similar experience to yours decades ago."

I'm suddenly more alert. "So what does that mean?" I ask, trying hard to keep my voice low.

"Well, it's encouraging," she replies. "But it will take him a bit of time to get there and he will be even more out of touch than he is now, as it is a very remote area. He said it could be weeks in between phone calls because traveling back and forth to the nearest phone will take an entire day."

My heart falls. I'm saddened by the fact that time is running out. But there's nothing more I can do, other than simply wait—just as I have been all this time.

"Thank you, Astrid," I say solemnly before hanging up.

I start the coffee maker, walk over the couch and slump down on it. I'm becoming fearful, as my future clock time feels like it's running out. Events aren't happening the way I recall them happening before. Michael has also decided to buy the car after all, meaning that I won't get as much time with him. But maybe that's a good thing—for the sake of fate.

I'm pushed even further into my dejection because I'm not making much headway with Michael "romantically," or otherwise. I know that even if he's attracted to me, which I am still unsure about, he would never pursue someone in a committed relationship. He is not that kind of guy. And in his mind, I shouldn't be seeking that because I'm married.

I feel trapped in my own skin and trapped in this time. The nightmare that originally began months ago is worse than before. The love of my life is physically close enough to touch, but emotionally farther away than ever.

Watching him move about his life unaware of what I believe to be true, is torture. I am so certain that we once had a life together and that we still belong together. And he's completely oblivious as to what I recall every time I look at him. I'm constantly reminded of what I may never have again.
CHAPTER 46

I'm anxiously waiting to board a Los Angeles-bound flight to attend our largest tradeshow of the year. This will also be the first time I've been away from Olivia and Joe since arriving here, and excitement and nerves intertwine in my gut.

Stacy and I are heading to L.A. ahead of the others for booth prep. Steve, Michael, Bjorn and two others will be flying in later that evening. From what I remember, it has been a while since I've been at this show. I'm nervous about how to behave around people I don't know as well now in this present time as I believe I will later on in my "real" life.

The flight is only three hours long, and goes by quickly. When we land, I find that I apparently know my way through LAX extremely well, and this also surprises Stacy, who believes it's the first time I've been here. "Just reading the signs," I reply, when she asks how I figured out how to get to baggage claim so quickly. Within forty minutes we're on the shuttle and making our way to the hotel.

As I step out of the van and approach the lobby, I'm hit with the deja vu sensation again. I know this place all too well. The sports bar off to the right—I'm having quick visions of good times there. To my left is the reception desk. I spot a grand piano displayed in the middle of the lobby, surrounded by overstuffed couches and chairs. I get a ping of excitement, as I recollect seeing someone famous play the piano there—though I can't recall exactly who it was and I believe Michael was with me. The surge of familiarity rejuvenates me, and I feel encouraged—as if I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

After an easy check-in process, Stacy and I make out way to our double room and plop down on our beds. "I love this weather," she says. It's a pleasant seventy five degrees and sunny outside here, which is a nice contrast to the Oregon rain.

I get up and take a look out the window, which overlooks the pool area five stories down. My mind instantly flashes to a memory of Michael laughing in the middle of a group of people. He's always been a great networker in professional settings. Even though he can be hard to read at first, he does like to socialize. The thought of being here with him all week excites me. Even if we're in separate rooms and currently living separate lives, we'll at least be closer for a little while.

Stacy and I spend the next three hours setting up the large, island-style booth. She repeatedly comments on my ability to set up like a pro. Little does she know I've probably done this fifty times already, so it's actually "old hat" for me. After we finish setting up, we hit the gym, shower and get ready to go to the lobby bar and wait for everyone else to arrive.

While we sip our drinks, random people from the industry stop by to say hello to Stacy and meet me, the "new" girl. As familiar people approach, I get waves of information in my head that tell me how I know them, their names and what they do. It's an odd sensation...like someone is telling me random facts through an earpiece, so that I can keep playing the game "which life is it today."

Now that I'm halfway through my martini, a relaxed feeling is starting to flow through my mind and body. Stacy is chatting it up with a guy who I don't really care to talk to, as I happen to recall that he's an ass, so I sit back and scan the bar.

In the midst of my people watching, I do a double take when noticing the rest of our crew enter the lobby just outside of the bar entrance. Steve is leading the way towards the reception desk. Michael is the last to enter, trailing behind. I mentally admire the long-sleeve pale yellow dress shirt and jeans he's wearing. Suddenly, I get a vivid glimpse of us on a dance floor and I'm holding his hand—maybe for the first time. He is wearing the same yellow shirt.

The flashback fades and I continue to stare. He's oblivious to the fact that I'm fondly watching him, as he waits to check-in. He is also oblivious to the fact that I'm deeply in love with him.
CHAPTER 47

My feet are killing me. Even the thick pad under the booth carpet isn't helping. It's already been a very busy day. Which is good, because time goes by faster. Unfortunately, I won't get to relax later, as we're having a large suite party tonight to celebrate a product release.

Stacy has been in and out of meetings all day with Steve, so I've been left in the booth with Michael, Bjorn and two other Marketing reps, Jane and Roger.

I'm on the opposite side of the booth, away from Michael—who is staffing a product station. Occasionally I'll glance over to watch him do a demonstration. It's odd observing my young future husband stumble over his words to explain a product I'm sure he'll one day understand better than I do. It's sort of endearing.

From the corner of my eye, I notice a small boy approaching the booth. He looks at the stuffed animal that we promote as a give-away prize, and signs to his mother. I can tell that he wants to hold it. Michael sees the boy, walks over and crouches down to his level. I can't hear what Michael's saying, but the boy's mother is translating it into sign language for him.

Quickly and with force, the warm sensation comes over me. Zap! Euphoria. It's clear. This has happened before. Michael will decide to give the stuffed animal to the little boy, who will in return give him a hug. This was the moment that my mind changed about Michael the first time around. This is the moment where I saw a side different of him, and when I decided to get to know him better. Finally, a rush of chills course through my body and then it settles down again. I take a deep breath and slow my breathing.

"That was a cute little kid," Michael says, walking over to me with his hands casually in his dress pants pockets. I nod, though I'm feeling a bit tired from that recollection. Sometimes these occurrences make me feel physically exhausted.

"Yeah, he is just a little younger than Olivia," I reply, smiling when recalling her sweet face.

"How old is she, your daughter?" he inquires. It now occurs to me that Michael doesn't know much about her at this time. It's not as if I parade her around the office, or get the chance to talk about her much.

The booth traffic has almost come to a halt, so we spend the next forty five minutes talking about me and my life, my child, and what my husband does for a living. He tells me about his family back home, his plans for college graduation and what he wants to do afterwards. As he speaks, hints of familiarity hit the pit of my stomach in a rush, then ease up before another one comes. It's almost like waves in the tide moving out, before pushing on shore again.

A slight sadness fills my heart when he mentions how he wants to travel more, and maybe find a job in another European country. But he's supposed to be with me. This young man whom I'm so in love with, and almost certain I really had a life with at some time—still has no knowledge of that life or of the love we shared.

"Are you OK?" he suddenly asks with concern. I realize I've drifted off in thought and now tears are pooling in my eyes. I'm immediately embarrassed.

"Here," he says as he hands me a napkin left over from our lunch.

I quickly take it and blot my face. "The air conditioning in the halls make my eyes water," I explain. Once again my body has failed me. I can only come up with so many excuses about my random tears.

The show organizer announces that the hall is about to close. I'm grateful for the interruption and the excuse to move away from Michael and shut down the booth.

"See you in an hour?" Michael asks, as he prepares to head back to his room.

"Yep!" I say sounding overly cheerful.

I make my way up to my room as quickly as possible. I can hardly breathe or speak. I'm feeling so emotional that I'm unable to see straight from the tears that are rapidly filling my eyes. My room key acts up as I try to unlock the door. I begin cursing at it just as Stacy opens the door from the other side.

"Hey you!" she says, chipper. When she sees me, her facial expression quickly changes. She can tell I'm out of sorts.

"What's wrong?" she asks, putting her arm around me as I enter our room. I slump on the side of my bed and fight back tears.

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm just so tired," I lie.

"These shows can take a lot out of a person," she says, comforting me.

"Why don't you go take a quick shower and get ready? It will help," she suggests gently.

I turn on the hot water and step into the hotel shower, which smells of bleach and cheap shampoo. I run my face under the water and wash my hair. And I cry. I'm miserable because Michael doesn't know who I am or what I was to him in another life. I'm beginning to wonder if we actually ever had the bond that pulls two people together. Maybe it was all one-sided. Could that be why he doesn't naturally gravitate towards me? Did I always love him more than he ever loved me?
CHAPTER 48

I fake a happier version of myself through our staff dinner. To avoid my emotions acting up again, I make sure to sit as far away from Michael as possible. After dinner, we begin setting up the suite for the party, which allows me to keep my distance.

Stacy hooks her MP3 player up to speakers so we can have some music while we work. She turns on a song by one of my favorite bands. I'm minding my own business and humming to the music, when I hear someone else in the room quietly singing along. I turn around to see Michael in the corner, mouthing the words to the song as he fills up balloons with helium.

Another flash comes and I stand motionless.

It's a sunny day. Michael is driving and I'm in the passenger seat. I see green hills in the distance and low-hanging clouds in a big blue sky, but it's still a beautiful day. His hand is on my knee and he's singing along to the same song. I'm in Sweden visiting, and we are enjoying a drive in the country. I'm so happy. We are so happy. He looks over at me and says, "I love you, babe."

"Where do you want the napkins," Jane asks, interrupting my vision. I feel the warmth leave, as my mind and body release the memory.

"Uh, on the bar counter and end tables," I say, still recovering.

She walks away and I take a minute to compose myself without anyone noticing. I look up and instantly meet Michael's eyes from across the room. He smiles at me as he ties a string to a balloon and lets it float to the ceiling.

I'm immediately grateful for the memory. It's almost like a sign. I realize that the song now playing is one of our songs. We have sung it together a hundred times. And even if he won't tell me he loves me now, at least I can recall hearing those words come from his mouth at one point.

My mood picks up as the party begins and I head behind the suite bar to help Stacy serve beer and wine. I'm remembering doing this with her on several occasions. It's a chore I always looked forward to at these shows. Everyone loves the person who gives them free booze!

Michael occasionally heads back to get bottles of beer for the front room and passes them around. The energy is good and we're all having fun. I can tell that he's enjoying entertaining and networking. I have a sense this is something I've seen him do on several occasions.

The party is loud with a sea of laughter and talking voices. There are too many to actually hone in on and decipher exactly what one conversation is about, but it's going well. This is familiar and I believe that I'm in my element. I'm genuinely happy.

"Hey, I need to go out there for a bit," Stacy shouts to me over the crowd. "I'll send someone else back."

I nod at her. Deja vu kicks in for a moment and I know that Michael is about to walk in. We're going to tend bar together. This has happened before.

The small door into the back of the wet bar opens from the hall and Michael enters on cue. "Hi. Did you miss me?" he jokes while moving next to me behind the bar.

I give a sarcastic laugh and for a brief moment we lock eyes. I feel a flutter of hope in my heart.

I smile back. "More than you know," I playfully reply.
CHAPTER 49

On the way home from the airport, I am still in the afterglow of my time with Michael. Though I'm happy that I get to see Olivia, I am equally sad that I won't be able to spend as much time with him. Since I have the rest of the weekend off before I head back to work on Tuesday, I'm trying to focus on spending time with her to avoid missing him.

It's late when Stacy drops me off at home. I graciously thank her and walk softly with my suitcase up the driveway attempting not to wake Joe and Olivia. When approaching the front door, I notice that lights are still on in the house. I now can hear people talking and music playing from inside.

"Hello?" I call out, hesitantly opening the door. There's male voices coming from the kitchen and they're laughing loudly. Joe comes around the corner. I can immediately tell he's been drinking.

"Hey, babe. You're back!" he says, surprised to see me.

I'm a little confused and annoyed by the small party of his four friends standing in our kitchen drinking this late, especially after I've just gotten home from a long business trip.

"Yeah, I am. What's going on here?" I say, trying to conceal my irritation.

"Oh, we're just hanging out. I sent Olivia to my parents' for the night, so the guys came over and we've had a few," he says, grinning. "You want a beer?" he offers, handing me his before I reply.

He then heads back to the kitchen and I hear a bottle cap drop to the floor. His work friend Jason peeks around the corner at me. "Hey, Jen!" he says, and gives a quick wave before returning to the conversation he was having.

I drop my bag and purse on the floor and survey the condition of my house. Pizza boxes, empty beer bottles and dirty work boots adorn my living room. Couch pillows are strewn about and Olivia's toys are still out.

I can feel my irritation growing, and heat begins to rise in my face. I'm exhausted, mentally and physically. My child, who I've missed terribly, is not here for me to tuck in. I head back to our bedroom, only to encounter ruffled sheets and towels on the floor. The house is in shambles.

I want to yell, but I don't in order to avoid an embarrassing scene. I'm now feeling a sense of disappointment towards Joe that I haven't felt since we were married the first time around. I'm both offended and saddened that he wouldn't think about my needs after I've been gone all week—that he would think I would want to come home to this. I don't believe Michael would ever do that to me.

I angrily throw the towels in the hamper and make the bed, cursing the entire time. The bedroom door opens, interrupting my mini tantrum.

"Whatcha doin, babe?" Joe asks, beer in hand.

While turning around to face him, I hold my tongue for a moment and wonder if he'll even absorb what I'm about to say.

"Well, babe," I begin, caustically. "I just got home from a long work trip to find a group of guys drinking in my kitchen past midnight, stuff all over the house and my child gone."

Joe looks at me like I'm ridiculous. "So? We're just having a few drinks and then they're leaving. You don't have to get up early tomorrow anyway.....I do though," he says, before taking another swig of beer.

"That doesn't mean that I wouldn't like to come home to a clean house, see my family and go to bed in peace!" I retort, my voice rising. "And what do you mean you're getting up early tomorrow?" I ask, referring to his hanging comment.

"I'm going hiking with Ray," he casually replies.

Here we go. It's happening again. It's taken almost a year, but I'm seeing it come to fruition. This is the Joe I remember. This is why I couldn't stay with him. He came first in his world. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. In his mind, as long as he worked hard and brought home a paycheck he should be able to come and go as he pleased. He didn't cheat, he didn't lie, but he didn't consider Olivia or me in most of his plans either. I'm almost certain that Michael and I always ran our plans by each other. We communicated and were thoughtful of each other.

I take a deep breath. "You know Joe, most of the time you're a good guy, but sometimes you're a real asshole," I flatly state. He doesn't respond, but instead blinks as if he's processing what I've just said.

"Are any of the guys out there sober?" I ask.

"Why?" he asks, in a cockier tone.

I remain calm. "Because you might want to go home with one of them tonight, sober up, go hiking tomorrow and maybe we can talk when you get back," I reply.

He continues to stare straight at me. He then walks over to the dresser, puts his beer on top of it and stands for a minute with his hands on his hips, head down, thinking.

I wait. I'm not going to push him, I can be patient. He still doesn't say anything. Instead, he opens a drawer, grabs some clothing and leaves the room. After he exits, I feel a pang of disappointment before my body relaxes a little. I know how this story goes. Even if I can't remember the details of my future with Michael, I remember the past with Joe so clearly.

He always leaves. He would rather walk away then try to find the words to express himself and fix things. Though it's a way to avoid a big fight, it's also the best way to build up resentment. And that's what ultimately made me leave him before.

I hear the voices quiet down from the front of the house. A few minutes later the front door opens and closes and then an engine starts outside. I hear a truck shift gears before driving away into the distance. I wait in the bedroom a few more minutes, listening for any sign of life in the house. It's silent.

I open the door and make my way back to the living room. The pizza boxes have been removed and there are no beer bottles in the kitchen, but Joe's gone. The cleanup is a small gesture on his part, but not enough to solve the problem.

I sit down on the couch, hearing only the ticking of the clock. It's now half past midnight. Joe is gone, Olivia is gone and for the first time I'm alone for a night in a house that I don't remember moving into. I look around the room and wonder why I wanted to live here. I feel no draw or connection to this place. There's nothing that represents who I really am inside.

This is not my home.
CHAPTER 50

Saying Goodbye

It's been over two hours since Michael left—maybe for good. I've sent Olivia to my dad's for a while so I can sit and cry without worrying her. The phone is now ringing and I dread answering it, as I'm in no mood to talk. Finally, conceding to its relentless sound, I reach over and grab the receiver.

"Hello?" I say, trying to sound normal.

"Hey, it's me," Michael softly replies. I didn't expect him to contact me so soon. In truth, I didn't know if he really ever would. Airport noises in the background tell me he's calling from a payphone.

"Are you OK?" he asks, sorrowfully.

"Yeah," I lie, forcing back more tears. For a moment, we remain silent, unsure of what to say next.

"I want to try this," he says with a sigh.

"You do?" I ask, stunned by his admission.

"I think we can do this. I will if you will," he commits. My heart lifts with elation. Quietly I begin to cry.

"Don't be sad....please," he says, his voice cracking.

I collect myself. "I'm not. I am relieved," I explain.

I have no doubt in my mind about the love we have between us or whether we can make this work. We'll figure it out as we go along. The details aren't important, only the way that we feel about each other is.

CHAPTER 51

I wake up at 10:00 a.m. to the house phone ringing. I'm startled out of a dream-memory. Still in the grogginess of heavy sleep, I manage to answer it. Joe's mom is wanting to know when I plan to pick up Olivia. I arrange a time before hanging up, and then reach over to look at my cell phone screen. I still haven't heard from Joe and to my knowledge, he hasn't come home.

The sun is already shining brightly outside. I feel like the world is going on without me and I missed most of the day by waking up so late. I really don't feel like doing anything at all. Unfortunately I don't have that luxury.

After starting the coffee maker, I make my way to the bathroom for a quick shower and opt to be lazy about my appearance today. I lightly dust on my makeup, put my hair up in a wet, messy bun and throw on jeans and a sweater. When I go back to the kitchen to get my coffee and breakfast, I notice how sparse the cupboards and fridge are. I instantly get angry with Joe again.

I pour my coffee into a travel mug, grab my purse and head out to the store. After realizing that I have a couple of hours before picking up Olivia, I decide to postpone grocery shopping and head to the waterfront to take a walk. This isn't something I'd normally do, but I need to breathe and think.

Downtown is quiet on this Sunday morning. It's chilly, but the sun is out—typical for March. I park and head to the newly-installed fountains. There are big rocks placed around the area for people to sit on and watch their kids play. Today there is no one here.

With my coffee in hand, I sit down and listen to the hum of semi-trucks crossing over the bridge and the sound of the river flowing through town. Occasionally a car will drive down the narrow street, but mostly I'm alone.

I sip my coffee and look around slowly, remembering how this is supposed to look in the future—the restaurants, breweries and little shops that will be erected. Then I feel the memory coming on fast, and the rush in my head takes over.

It's a Friday night. We are with a group of work friends. It's our goodbye party for Michael and Bjorn. We make our way to an eclectic little bar that has recently opened. A friend of ours is deejaying there.

Tonight is different from any other night. Michael and I have a secret. Nobody knows and nobody needs to. The night before, we stepped over the line from being close friends to something more. What it is, we're still not sure, but we know that there's love between us.

It was not a one night stand. It was not a foolish mistake. It wasn't expected or planned, but it was right. Tonight, in the midst of fun and laughter, there is a slight sadness that weaves its way through my veins.

When I head to the restroom, I sense Michael sneaking up behind me and feel him wrap his arms around me. He does it when we are out of sight of everyone else. He's confirming our secret, our moment, our mutual feelings. I don't know if I will see him again, but tonight he is mine and I am his. And no one needs to know.

I snap back to the present and feel instantly drained. Some of these episodes are getting more intense and physical. It's almost as if I leave my body and cannot control my surroundings. I'm transported to that moment in the future/past and it's as if I'm watching it unfold like a movie. I look around to see if anyone is watching me. Luckily, I'm still alone.

Still shaken from the life-like memory, I decide to go to the only place I've come to feel safe in moments like these.
CHAPTER 52

Astrid opens the door before I even knock. "Jennifer, it's so good to see you. I sensed you were coming so I put on some tea," she says, letting me in.

I remain quiet after entering her house. Astrid steps back and assesses me, then shakes her head slightly. "You saw more, didn't you," she states. I nod and make my way to her couch to rest.

She goes to the kitchen and quickly returns with two cups of tea, then sits down next to me. She doesn't press me for details. I suppose she doesn't have to. She's probably already getting a sensation of what I experienced or what happened with Joe.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Since I've arrived, the weather has drastically changed and rain is starting to fall. Instinctively I curl my legs up on the couch as I would at my own home. I silently sip my tea and listen to the soothing tick of her wall clock.

Astrid gently clears her throat and takes a drink of tea before setting it on the coffee table. "You still haven't heard from Joe?" she asks.

Although her question reminds me that she has an unsettling "gift" that I'll never have, I appreciate not having to explain the details of last night. I shake my head.

"Don't worry about it. He'll be there when you get home. And save yourself the trip getting Olivia. He will already have picked her up," she says matter-of-factly. How she can see some recent events clearly and not others still bewilders me.

I look at her and laugh. "Astrid, you are my saving grace in all of this," I say gratefully.

She shrugs. "Oh, I know," she jokingly retorts.

"So what do you want to do about your situation?" she asks, after a moment of mutual silence. Her question strikes me as odd. I'm not sure that I even have the luxury of doing anything about it at this point in time.

I look at her in confusion. "I don't really know what you mean. I don't think I have much choice but to just let things happen until we hear from John," I reply.

"Now, Jennifer, yes and no. You have to remember that you are still going to be given opportunities, just as you were given in your life before...or later, I guess I should say," she jokes. "If Michael didn't exist, if you didn't have any knowledge of him, would you stay in this marriage with Joe?" she challenges.

I'm caught off guard by this question. I hadn't given it much thought. I have stayed with Joe because it felt like the safest place to be. I've been terrified of doing anything drastic that could affect Olivia, or cause unnecessary chaos. But when I really think about it, deep down, and still being who I am, Joe is not the one for me.

"Aha," she says looking at me with a smirk on her face. Damn it, Astrid, stop reading me!

She places her hands on my knees. "You see, my love, there are more lives and futures at stake than just yours," she calmly states.

My fears of being alone, being ostracized, and being out of control instantly wash over me. If I leave Joe, then I have to start back down a road that I've already walked. If Michael never comes around, I may be alone, divorced and a single mother...again....and for what? I can't see anyone winning by me just up and leaving!

"What are you saying? That I should just leave him and tear our family apart?" I defensively ask.

"Jennifer, I'm saying that by staying with Joe you may be preventing him from fulfilling his destiny," she calmly replies.

"Sometimes, the right thing to do is the hardest. And though I still can't see what your future holds, I'm starting to see Joe's. And honey, you aren't in it as his wife," she says, before rising from the couch and walking towards the kitchen.

Her words punch me in my gut and take the breath right out of me. I'm not unhappy with Joe, but I know this is not a real marriage. Over the last several months I've become complacent, especially after I stopped remembering my past with Michael. Now that I'm completely aware of his existence and somewhat remember the life we shared, I honestly can't imagine staying with Joe forever.

The truth is, I haven't considered him in all of this. In the midst of worrying about my own life and what I've lost, I have forgotten that he too deserves better. He's not mine. Joe belongs to someone else.

I put my mug down on the table and walk into the kitchen. Astrid is stirring a pot of something on the stove. "Is that a potion?" I ask her naively.

"I'm a psychic, Jennifer, not a witch," she chuckles. "But this is a beverage that helps calm the nerves.....you might want to drink some," she jokes.

I shake my head. "You're right," I concede.

"Honey, it's not me telling you this. It's fate. I can't say that I blame you for staying with Joe. I know all the reasons that you are and I can't say that I wouldn't do the same. But you aren't doing him or yourself any favors by staying. In fact, you may be damning up the river—if you know what I mean," she says with a wink.

And I do. I'm stopping the natural flow of things. I've always been one to advise against fighting the current.

I lean in to hug Astrid and she embraces me tightly in return. "I'll see you later," I say as I walk out of the room.

"Sooner than you think!" she calls from the kitchen.
CHAPTER 53

I keep the radio off on the drive home to help me think and formulate my speech. Knots fill my stomach and I'm on the verge of throwing up. I am so consumed with nerves that I don't know if I should laugh or cry when approaching the driveway.

Joe's truck is parked in a different spot than this morning, so I assume Astrid's vision is correct and Olivia is home as well. I take a deep breath before shutting off the car.

"Damn it!" I say exhaling. I don't have to go through with this. I could keep living this life as I have been. But I know it would be wrong to take a life away from Joe that he deserves, even if he isn't aware of its existence.

I'm hearing the sound of the television as I walk towards the front door. When I open it, Olivia turns away from the show she's watching and runs to greet me with a big hug.

"Hi, baby girl," I say, picking her up and squeezing her tight.

"Mommy, I missed you so much!" she says with a squeal. Relishing in her embrace, I take in the scent of baby shampoo mixed with kid sweat and kiss her chubby cheek before setting her down.

"Go watch your show, honey. Mommy needs to talk to daddy," I say, warding off tears.

I glance around the house, but there's no sign of Joe. "Where is he?" I ask Olivia.

"Outside," she says, fixated on the dancing ballerina on the television.

I make my way to the patio doors and peak out to look for him. He's rigorously cleaning the barbecue grill. "Hi," I say, sheepishly making my way over to him.

He doesn't budge from his task of scrubbing the grill. "Hi," he mumbles back.

I'm hesitant to broach the subject. He doesn't appear to be in the mood to talk. "Can we talk?" I ask.

He continues scrubbing for a few seconds before acknowledging me. I wait in silence until he decides to put the brush down and turns to face me. He looks exhausted, his eyes are heavy and his body is slightly hunched.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asks flatly.

I'm a little put off by his resentful tone, but I know I need to do this sooner than later. I remind myself that Joe is not a wordsmith, nor as good at expressing his emotions as I am. I've got to be patient with this process.

"Well, about....us," I say timidly.

He stares at me for a minute, then sighs deeply. "I guess," he begrudgingly replies.

I look back at the house and realize that we won't be able to do this with Olivia here. "Let me just take her to my dad's house first," I say.

"Why?" he asks abruptly. "Is this that serious?"

I look back at him and make firm eye contact. "It's necessary," I calmly reply.

Before he can argue, I go back inside, call my dad and pack Olivia up.

When dropping her off, I'm quick and vague about why we need an hour alone. Dad and Mary don't seem concerned and are happy to spend time with her.

On the quick drive home, I run the conversation through my head to prepare myself. However, these words are lost to me when arriving back at the house. Joe is just getting out of the shower when I walk in. I pray he's more relaxed now. I'm increasingly nervous while making my way back to our bedroom. I take off my shoes and jacket and slowly sit on the edge of the bed. My body is so tense I can barely move.

While I wait for the right moment to speak, Joe slips on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He then sits down on his side of the bed and puts on a pair of socks, keeping his back to me.

"Joe, I need to be honest with you about something," I begin. He remains silent, still not facing me. "But I need you to be open and not get angry," I gently continue.

"There's someone else, isn't there?" he abruptly asks.

His question catches me off guard. How does he know? How would he know? After mentally rationalizing that there's no way he could know about Michael, I get up from my side of the bed and move closer to Joe.

"Yes and no," I carefully respond. He lifts up his chin and his eyes meet mine. They're pleading, as pools of tears well up in them. I can barely look at him.

"Joe, this is hard to explain, but...there's someone else ...for you," I attempt.

His forehead wrinkles with confusion. "What are you talking about?" he replies, growing frustrated. "There isn't anyone else!"

I take a deep breath and devise how to respond. "I know there isn't....at least not right now. But I know, deep down, that you deserve and will get so much more from someone else than I can offer you," I calmly explain.

He quickly stands up and begins to pace, head down in his usual thinking position. "How can you say that?" he raises his voice. "We have a daughter! We have a life! We've been together for SO long!" he argues.

I'm now unsure of how to make him see what I know in my heart and in my mind. I love him in some way. Maybe as the father of my child, or my first love, or as the friend that he's become. But I don't love him the way I love Michael or the way that Rachel will love Joe if they find their way to each other again.

I stand up and softly grab his arms so he'll stop pacing. I then take his hands in mine in an attempt to calm him down.

"Joe, I know all of that. I cherish all of it too. I know that you don't understand why I'm doing this, but you have to listen to me," I plead. He looks at me with questions in his eyes. Olivia makes this same face when she is sad—it's heart wrenching. "Please believe me Joe. I've not cheated on you, I haven't betrayed you. But I know at the core of my soul that I am NOT the one you are supposed to be with," I say convincingly.

"I don't want to hurt you, or Olivia, or anyone in our family, but if I keep you from what I know you deserve, I'll end up hurting you more. And I don't want to take that experience away from you."

"What do you mean? What experience?" he asks, slightly frantic.

Michael's face appears in my mind. "Real love," I simply say.

Joe remains quiet, still not comprehending what I'm trying to convey. He's overwhelmed and confused by how quickly everything's changed. I'm sure he thought we were just having a regular marital argument, and now I am trying my best to persuade him that he's better off without me while being vague in my reasoning. I hold his clammy hand tighter and prepare to beg him to understand.

"I want you to experience the kind of love that makes you feel emotions you never thought possible. Love that makes you drop your guard and be vulnerable to any kind of pain you might endure, just to have the pleasure of experiencing it, even if only for a short time. Love that makes you feel as if you're with your oldest friend, but new acquaintance—all at once. You deserve to be with the person, that even in a moment of anger, you can still look at and know that there's no other place you would rather be than with them. Someone that you know you were put on this earth to find and love completely. And if you woke up one day and they were gone, you would gladly walk to the ends of the earth to find them.....and do it all over again," I say, beginning to cry.

Joe says nothing, but a tear streams down his cheek. He moves in to hug me, his body slumping into my embrace. He's innocently childlike. "I'm sorry you don't love me like that," he strains. "What can I do?" he begs, pulling back to face me. I shake my head and look to the floor, unable to look into his sorrowful eyes.

"Joe, it isn't you, it isn't anything about you. You deserve better than what I can give you and I won't let you settle for less. I know that you feel horrible, and mad, and sad, but please believe that I don't want to hurt you. I want to part the right way. I want us to raise our daughter together, to be friends, to help her grow up and be happy. I don't want us to fight. I want us to be kind to each other. I want us to be a family, even if we're living in different houses—with different people," I explain though my sobs.

I can see he's now overwhelmed. I've said too much and he can't absorb it fast enough, so I decide to sit on the bed and give him some space.

"So, do you want me to leave?" he asks sadly.

I shake my head slowly. "No, of course not. We can do this slowly. We don't have to rush it. And for Olivia's sake, I want to be careful in how we handle the situation," I reply solemnly.

I'm suddenly drained from this conversation. Everything's catching up with me. The trade show, the late angry night before, my conversation with Astrid, and finally this. Now that I've done it, there's no going back. My safe place has been altered. I'm now floating again in this life with uncertainty surrounding me. The one constant I had, has now been broken apart. I pray that I am doing the right thing.

Joe can tell I'm exhausted, as I'm now lying curled up on the bed. He sits down next to me. I adjust my position as the bed tilts underneath me from his weight. "OK," he agrees, lightly rubbing my back. Then he gets up and walks out of the room.

A few minutes later Joe announces from the living room that he's going to get Olivia. I let down when hearing his truck start outside. I'm so tired from the emotional battle inside my body. I don't know where to go from here.

I've dismantled my family, and set myself up for solitude. I am now more afraid of the unknown than ever. To top it all off, the one person who I'd normally run to for comfort is oblivious to the fact that I need him right now.
CHAPTER 54

Joe and I decide it's best to start the process of separating slowly. I know he needs that as much as Olivia does. In fear of pushing him too far, I go along with it. The first time we separated, I was hasty to start my new life and it was too much for him. I want to go at a pace that's comfortable for him, yet sets the boundaries of where our marriage stops and our new friendship starts.

I tell Olivia that I'm moving into the guest room because daddy snores. The first few nights she asks me when he will quit snoring. After a week, she stops being inquisitive and accepts the guest room as Mommy's new sleeping quarters.

We keep our nightly routine the same. It's easy, considering there wasn't really anything romantic between us. The only difference is dropping the pet names and the occasional kiss "hello" or "goodbye." That comes easier for me to let go of then it does for Joe. We've only had one awkward moment in front of Olivia when he came home and routinely went to kiss me. I instinctively pulled back. Olivia thought it was a game and laughed at us. Joe walked away embarrassed.

Work is my salvation. I'm able to walk in and leave my troubles at the door. It's like its own ecosystem there. I can actually breathe. Even though Michael is still technically an acquaintance, I have relaxed more around him and he occasionally jokes with and teases me. This is a good sign, as I know it means he feels comfortable.

However, my mood is slightly deflated when I find out that he and some of his housemates are having a party. I can only assume that girls will be there. I forget sometimes that he is only twenty-two and in his mind I'm probably just some late twenty-something woman with a husband and a kid at home.

I decide to tell Stacy that Joe and I have split up over lunch one afternoon. "Are you OK?" she asks, sincerely concerned.

"Yes. Really, it was bound to happen sooner or later," I reply matter-of-factly.

"Well, in truth you reminded me of my mom and her ex-husband," she says nonchalantly. "I mean, it's obvious you care about each other, but you don't talk about him much and you two aren't really joined at the hip. You seem like buddies more than husband and wife."

I ponder her comment for a minute. She's right. Joe and I rarely went out together and I don't talk about him much. We are very separate in our lives. From what I recall of my life with Michael, we do everything together. We work together, AND we live together. It's not an easy feat at times, but we've made it work—all the while making time to spend alone together on date nights or when we can break away for a long weekend without the kids. And why was I feeling like our marriage was lacking something before I arrived in this life? I'm ungrateful.

"You OK? I hope I didn't upset you," Stacy says apologetically.

I quickly shake my head. "Of course not. You're absolutely right. Which is how I know that I made the right decision," I reassure her and myself.

Because I know that this will eventually get around the office, and naturally people will handle me with kid gloves, I decide to share the news with Steve. I tell him in a well-rehearsed speech about my new situation, which is then followed by, "I'm sorry to hear that. Take some time off if you need it,"—the standard stuff people say in these circumstances.

By the end of the week, the entire department knows, including Michael, as well as a few other members of the company. I'm not handling this in the way most people going through a divorce would. I almost feel as if I'm faking it, or going through the motions of being upset. I am not purposefully lying, I'm not thrilled about the obstacles I'll be facing as I embark on this next step, but I know it's necessary. So I'm going through this situation as I think I should. Calm, focused and ready for something new.

I have hope that John will contact Astrid and me with answers soon, but the lack of communication and little information has me in doubt. All I know is that I am me...well...a version of me. I have my family, my friends, my daughter and Michael...for now.
CHAPTER 55

It's been one month since Joe and I officially split. We still sleep in separate rooms and continue to behave as close to normal as we can. Joe has started hanging out at his friends' more after work and coming home right before Olivia goes to bed. This upsets me a little, because she misses him, but I know why he's doing it. It's his way of learning to live without this life. I excuse his neglect and tell Olivia her daddy needs some time with his friends, just like she gets at school.

I finally decided to tell my parents. They were sad and suggested that we do everything possible to save our marriage. After making it clear that there's no hope, they gave up and said they'd support us in whatever way we need. Joe's parents were just as upset, of course—they were even a little cold to me at our last encounter, but that's to be expected. They are naturally protective of their son.

Joe remains cordial towards me, but I think he's still pained by my decision. It wasn't his. It was forced on him. I just hope he will appreciate it later. I also hope that he still finds his way to Rachel.

On Friday afternoon, Stacy decides it's time for me to get out of what she calls my "slump," even though I think I'm doing just fine. She thinks it would be fun to go out for a girl's night at some of the local pubs downtown. Joe is heading to Portland for a friend's bachelor party anyway, so I don't have to worry about making him feel bad if I leave and he's home alone for the night. I concede and make plans for Olivia to go to my dad's.

I pull myself together after a quick cat nap. I start by putting on some fun music that I haven't listened to in...well...since the times that I remember Stacy and me going out in my other life. I shower, shave and take my time doing my hair and makeup until I'm satisfied. I also manage to pick out a nice-fitting pair of jeans, a dressy black top and a pair of wedge heels.

When finished, I take a long look in the mirror. I'm standing here before myself, almost unrecognizable in some ways. I look healthy and fit. I feel good in my skin for the first time in a long time. Yet even though I'm younger in appearance, I feel older than ever. Before my emotions get the chance to take over and dampen my mood, I smile at myself and mentally commit to having a good time.

Stacy picks me up at 7:00 p.m. and we head straight to our favorite pub and restaurant downtown. The April evenings are becoming warmer and the nights are longer, so the downtown streets are busy with a mixture of college students and older upper class folk. The setting sun graces this small town with a tender warm light that makes twilight almost mystical. For a moment, I can't tell what year it is—this season feels the same in the present or future. Regardless of what the year is, it's still my home and that comforts me.

When we enter, the restaurant is overflowing with life and music. We're quickly seated at a table for two. We order martinis and a plate of fries until deciding what we want for dinner. We aren't in any rush and are having a good time people watching and laughing at stupid things, like we always do. It's in these moments with Stacy that I feel sane. I'm reminded of who I am at my core and grateful that I have her to keep me grounded. Tonight I will not think about tomorrow. I will not think about Joe and Olivia and what will happen next. I'll live in this moment with my friend and appreciate that life has been gracious enough to give me her friendship both times around.

After the drinks kick in, we get a little playful with the waiter. Stacy is a natural born flirt and her talent amuses me. After finishing our long dinner, we decide to move on to a few more places.

"Oh, let's go to Karaoke!" she exclaims.

"Hell no! I'm not singing," I reply, laughing at her suggestion.

"No, we'll just go watch," she assures me.

We pay our bill and exit towards the waterfront to the next bar. We aren't drunk by any means, but our heels are teetering on the cobblestone, so we link arms and lean on each other for stability. I feel a hint of what I now refer to as the "Deja vu daze" come over me for a moment as we pass another pub. I quickly recall a moment there dancing with Michael, while the group we were with was off ordering drinks. We were in an area where no one could see us, so we took a chance just to be close.

"Hellooooo," Stacy says to get my attention.

"Wow, sorry," I say, recovering from my memory. "I got side tracked," I explain, with a smile on my face.

We make our way into the next pub, which is full of college-aged people. Stacy leads us to the bar, since she's taller and has no problem maneuvering through the sea of people. For a moment I feel out of place, but then realize I'm still in my twenties in appearance, so I'll blend in just fine.

Instead of a Karaoke machine, an Irish style rock band is playing on the small corner stage. They sound familiar, and I get a quick flash that I've seen them before. The atmosphere is upbeat and lively and the energy encourages having a good time. Stacy turns away from the bar and hands me a pint of beer. God love her for charming her way to getting served quickly.

She manages to find a small table near the entrance. I sit down and watch the band prepare for their next song. People are coming in and out from the door behind me. It's not the best seat in the house, but at least the draft from the night offers a breeze to cool the crowded bar. Stacy is in the middle of telling me that she thinks the bartender is cute, which I know will make for some entertainment later when she flirts with him. Stacy's in mid-sentence when she notices something that breaks her concentration. "Oh hey!" she shouts and starts waving at someone behind me.

Before I get a chance to look, Michael appears at the side of our table with Bjorn. He looks charming with his fresh, edgy haircut. He says hello to me and then converses with Stacy about the band. I try not to stare, but his t-shirt has caught my attention. "Titanic Swim Team, 1912," it reads. I laugh out loud, and then quickly get thrown into a scene from the past.

It was shortly after he arrived here the first time. Stacy and I wanted to take him and Bjorn out to show them some of the local nightlife, so one night after work we met up for drinks at a pub on campus. That night was much different than tonight. We barely knew each other and he was still adjusting to his new environment. He couldn't find a beer that he liked and we went through several until he found something suitable. I thought that he was picky. I wasn't wrong. He can be, but when he finds something he likes, he sticks with it.

I shake off the daze. "I'm going to get another beer," I say rising from the table. "Do you guys want something?" I ask the three of them. Bjorn, Stacy and Michael nod. "OK, a few pale ales, alright?" I ask. They nod and agree in unison.

I move my chair and prepare to make my way to the bar when Michael suddenly appears at my side. "Hey, I came to help you. It's a lot of beers to carry on your own," he says politely.

"OK, great, thanks," I reply, blushing a little.

We make our way to the bar and are forced to wait while the bartenders help other customers. I lean against the bar, fidgeting with my debit card. I can feel the heat from Michael's body, as he stands close to me. I fight the urge to reach out and touch him. He's looking around assessing the bar, the people, the band. I know I've seen him do this before. He isn't judging, just taking in his surroundings. I smile at this recognizable habit.

I can't help but stare at him. I'm so sure that this is my future husband right in front of me. Younger, more naive and unaware of the situations that will occur and shape him into one of the best men I've ever known—the man that my friends and family always wanted for me. And I'm sure that some days I wondered why he ever chose me and how I got so lucky. Apparently, I didn't realize how lucky I really was.

I'm quickly embarrassed when Michael turns back to face the bar and catches me staring. "I like your shirt," I recover.

He looks down at the ironic shirt. "Thanks," he says grinning.

Just in time the bartender serves us and breaks the uncomfortable moment. Michael waves off my debit card when it's time to pay and hands the bartender cash. He then takes two beers and leads me through the crowd while I do my best not to run into someone and spill the beers I'm carrying.

We make it back to our table, which now has four chairs placed around it so we can all sit together. Bjorn and Stacy are sitting close so they can talk over the noise. This leaves Michael and me sitting with our knees almost touching.

Being the social person that he is, Michael starts to make small talk with me about the band, the bar, and the kind of music he likes. I nod and smile and respond accordingly. All I really want to do is listen to his voice, and feel his presence. It takes everything in me to not reach out and hold his hand. He has no idea that the girl sitting right next to him is fighting every natural instinct to grab him, kiss him and hold him as tight as she can. I feel so in love with him. Every part of him, good and bad.

I know in my soul, and to my core, and have no doubt that this is the person I was put on this earth to love. Some say that you only find true love once. That may be the case for most people. But in my case, I've met my one true love twice.
CHAPTER 56

The clock reads 9:00 a.m. when I wake up smiling on this sunny Sunday morning. I feel well rested, even after a late night of drinking. I'm in a flitter of a glow.

Images from the night before fill my mind—flashes of laughter, drinking beer, talking and Michael. It was easier to be around him as the night progressed. After realizing that even though I know Michael and I know of our life together and he doesn't, there's still a silver lining. I have a chance to make more memories with him—even if they may not "count" later on if I get back to our life together, wherever it may be.

I decide it's best to let go and enjoy a chance to be with younger Michael again. We don't have to talk about work, or kids, or bills, or any of the other responsibilities that consume our marriage. Without pretending, we can just be twenty-two and twenty-six. Young, free and without regret.

My cell phone rings from the bedside, jolting me out of my nostalgia. I see the number on the screen and answer quickly. "Hi, Astrid!" I say enthusiastically.

She begins with a laugh, "Well, morning Sunshine. I take it you had a nice weekend?" she states with a hint of playfulness. I smile because I know she senses it. I still find it funny how she can't see much of my future but she gets glimpses of what I've been up to in the immediate past.

"I did. So to what do I owe the pleasure?" I tease.

"Honey, I've got good news. Well...news at least. I guess I'm not sure if it's good or not, but it's something. John FINALLY called. I was so worried! Anyway, he said he has found the brother of a man who went through something similar to you about thirty years ago. He's going to travel down to his village and meet with him next week. He will thoroughly investigate the situation and call in the next couple of weeks with an update," she finishes.

I'm excited and nervous all at once. I want to find a way back to my life, but I'm worried about getting my hopes up. This is the only lead we have. There's no one else in their special community that had ever heard about anything like what I've experienced. John has made the most headway, but if he reaches a dead end I don't know where I'll go from here.

"That's great," I say half-heartedly.

"Oh, Jennifer, I know it's not exactly what you want to hear. But please be patient. I sense good things from this trip. I feel we are getting closer," she reassures me.

"Astrid...have you been able to see anything more, about me?" I inquire.

"Well, honestly.....it's still fuzzy. I know you have been with Michael and I don't think that you should avoid him, but I caution you about trying to force anything. Every time you try to recreate your past or prevent something's natural course, I almost feel as if I lose my grip on....well....you. I can't concentrate as well on you. But what I can tell you is that lately I've been getting glimpses of you smiling and happy. And you need to let go of any guilt you may have about Joe. He's going to be just fine," she says.

With that I smile, say goodbye and hang up. I lie back down and stare at the white ceiling above the bed. I will not fight the current. I will accept each day for what it is and not try to manipulate the situation and control the outcome. The first time around I just let things happen and it seemed to work out in my favor.

I'm startled by someone opening the front door. I hurry out of the bed and rush to the bedroom door to peek out. I realize I'm overreacting when seeing that it's Joe, who has already sat down and is taking off his shoes.

"Hi," I say, meekly entering the living room.

"Hi," he says, not making eye contact. He seems annoyed by my presence.

"How was the party?" I ask, trying to make small talk.

He shrugs. "Fine," he replies shortly.

"You're home early," I comment, taking a seat nearby. I can sense that he doesn't want to chat, but we have to get over this awkward stage if we're going to co-parent successfully. I can't bear for things to be like they are in my other life. Not with knowing Joe the way he is now.

"Yeah, it was boring, so Jason brought me back early. He had to work anyway," he says plainly.

I begin to ask what they did to celebrate when he abruptly cuts me off. "Jen, stop. Stop trying to be my friend," he says firmly. I swallow hard. I'm not used to him talking to me like that. I can feel the blood rushing to my face. I am now embarrassed and trying not to cry.

"Sorry," I manage to say while choking back tears. I'm confused. I thought we had an understanding. I don't know why he's suddenly acting so cold towards me.

I wait in stunned silence, while he sits with his palms pressed against his forehead. "I don't want to be mean. I know that you want to do this the right way, but I can't stay here anymore. It's too hard coming here every day and not being with you. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells. I have to constantly make sure I don't call you 'babe' or tell you 'I love you' by habit. It's just uncomfortable for me," he explains.

I take a minute to figure out the best way to respond. I don't want him to go. Mostly because I'm afraid that if he leaves, he will be absent completely. What if he stops seeing Olivia? Will I have to be the bitch ex-wife that's constantly telling him to visit his kid or pay child support? I never really did the first time, but I'm worried it could come to that.

"Joe, I'm sorry. I don't want you to feel like that. What do you want to do?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "I don't know yet. But I think we need to start the divorce process, make it official," he says, slumping into the chair.

I guess he's right. There's no point in staying like this. We have told our close friends and family. Next is Olivia. The first time around it was so much easier. She was very young. She never remembered us together. This time I'll have to tell my five year old a hard truth. Her soul is so innocent and tender. I hope she can bare it. I hope I can too.
CHAPTER 57

The following week I'm more than relieved to step into the solace of the Marketing department and get my mind off of the days before. Olivia didn't take the news that we were splitting up as badly as I anticipated, but the night we told her I heard her quietly crying in her bed until she fell asleep. All the while I wondered if we were doing the right thing. I hate hurting her, but I know that other things in our future and other people could be sacrificed if we take the easy way out. And neither of us would be happy in the end—including Olivia.

Joe and I have a long talk and decide that we will get the divorce paperwork started immediately. Luckily, Oregon has a pretty easy process, and since we aren't fighting over any assets, we should be able to get through this quickly and simply.

We decide that we'll take turns with Olivia every other weekend, but to avoid taking her from her environment, we will alternate staying with her at our house while the other person stays somewhere else. Joe will also pick her up after school every day and bring her home as usual. On Wednesday's he'll come over and have dinner with her and I am welcome to join them.

I decide to let him have the first weekend with her and I'll go stay at my mom's. She's heading out of town to visit family, so I will have the house to myself while watching her dog. I'm actually looking forward to it.

Since Stacy lives down the street from my mom's, we decide to have a BBQ on Saturday if the weather holds up. It's been surprisingly warm for mid-April, so we plan to take advantage of it.

The work week goes by quickly. However, there is a change in the atmosphere between Michael and me. It's familiar. Sort of a mix between flirtation and comfortable buddies. One day when I stepped out of my office to go to the copy room, I ran into Michael in the hallway. He surprised me by jokingly picking me up and placing me back in my office.

Luckily no one was looking, but it was funny....and familiar. The best part was feeling his embrace. Even if that's not what was intended. For just a brief moment, I could smell him, feel him and pretend that he knew who I was to him.

On Friday night Stacy and I have another girl's night and split a bottle of wine at my mom's. We sit on the back patio and look up at the big night sky with its stars shining bright. We talk about life, work, vacations we want to take...her chaotic love life.

"You know, I think Michael likes you," she says, breaking a moment of silence.

I try to not react and play it cool. "Yeah, maybe, but we are just friends," I say

"Mmm, hmmm," she teases.

I giggle. "Look, trust me, I like Michael. But I'm still going through this stuff with Joe and it wouldn't be right to rush into something," I rationalize.

"Well, my dear, you may have to rush because you don't have much time until he leaves. May is approaching quickly," she says.

Crap! In the midst of all the chaos with Joe and trying to get Michael to notice me, I failed to remember that we are in a time crunch here.

What will I do if John doesn't get back in time to get me out of this situation before Michael leaves? What if Michael leaves and that's that? What if he goes back to Sweden and we are still just friends? If I'm stuck here, living my life all over again, then it could mean living my life without him...and without Stella.

I can't remember all of the details of how Michael and I finally got together. Only the "Deja vu dazes" give me clues, and those are sporadic. And even if I could remember, Astrid warned me not to intervene and try to control the outcome. I am walking a fine line and hanging in a balance that is tough to navigate.

My heart starts to race and I'm doing my best not to panic in front of Stacy. But I know I have to spend as much time with Michael as I can, without forcing myself on him. I remember enough about Michael to know that he doesn't like aggressive women. Confident, yes, assertive, yes, but desperate, no.

"So, who's coming to the barbecue tomorrow?" I ask Stacy.

"Um....my sister, her baby, her boyfriend, you, Bjorn, Michael and their roommate, Lewis." she says.

"For sure, all of them?" I ask.

"Uh huh. Michael is even cooking. He wants to make a shrimp fettuccine dish, so he will be over earlier to cook since their kitchen is lousy," she replies.

"So will I," I say.

"Of course you will," she teases.
CHAPTER 58

At 4:00 p.m. the next day I walk over to Stacy's from my mom's house. The afternoon is unseasonably warm, but I know it will be chilly after dark. I'm wearing a jean skirt, flip flops and a t-shirt, but now wishing I would have brought a sweater. I didn't want to over dress, but I've managed to look cute for the occasion.

I take my time walking while focusing on my breathing. My nerves have been running high all day. I slept in this morning after tossing and turning all night. Between the wine swirling in my head and anxiety about Michael leaving soon, I couldn't settle down and didn't fall asleep until sometime after midnight.

I managed to get up around 10:00 a.m., then ran down to the private community gym that my mom has access to. The exercise helped stave off my stress for most of the day, but when it came time to leave, I started to feel sick with stress.

Part of me wants to tell Michael the truth, but I know that's irrational. It's highly unlikely that I would be able to sit him down and say, "Michael, you probably won't believe this, but I'm your wife from the future. Somehow I woke up in my past, but one that I never actually lived. But before I woke up here, you and I were married and we had a daughter. Can you please just believe me and stay with me for the rest of whatever I have left of this life?" Yep, sounds crazy even to me!

I'm half a block away when my cell phone rings from my back pocket. I take it out and see it's Astrid. "Hi, Astrid," I answer.

"Jennifer, I'm sorry to bother you. But I just couldn't stop thinking about you. It was more of a nagging sensation," she rambles. "Anyway, I just wanted to call you and tell you to relax," she says.

I'm sort of annoyed that she's so in tune with me, but I appreciate her support nonetheless. "Thanks," I reply.

"Look, I'm sure you are getting tired of my input, but I want you to enjoy what is happening right now," she explains.

"But he's leaving soon, Astrid," I whine. "I have about a month before he goes and I'm afraid I will never see him again," I continue, beginning to panic.

"Shhhh, none of that," she chides. "Listen, I can't make sense of any of this either. But remember that our fate and destiny is formed by us taking opportunities. It sounds like recently you have had a few that have just manifested on their own. I still can't see any future visions, but for some reason I'm at peace with what you are currently doing in regards to Michael. Oddly enough I have actually relaxed!" she says, laughing. I roll my eyes—that makes one of us.

"Hey, this is frustrating for me too, don't misunderstand me," she continues. "I've never been around someone whose future I couldn't read, but who I could sense so well," she explains. "BUT, if I were you I'd go along with this. You may or may not end up together, honey, but the fact of the matter is you have this time with him. Don't think about tomorrow, don't think about next year, or ten years from now. Just be with him now, while you can," she encourages.

I'm almost on the verge of tears. She's right. This is what I need to do. Live in the moment and get whatever time I have with Michael now and appreciate it. God knows I took it for granted right before I arrived in this life.

Distracted by my conversation with Astrid, I don't realize that I've walked right up to Stacy's driveway. I stop to collect myself for a moment before going inside. I have to enjoy this. I need to be upbeat and positive. I can't sour the mood.

I hear a car pull up behind me and park. When turning around, I see it's Lewis' car. Michael is in the passenger seat and Bjorn's in the back.

"I gotta go," I say.

"OK, Love," she says, her voice bright.

We hang up and I wave at Michael, as he steps out of the car. He's dressed in shorts and a short sleeve button up shirt. He wears a big smile on his face. "Hey! You here to help me cook?" he jokes.

I shrug. "Sure!" I reply.

"Great. You can chop all the onions, because I'm not crying tonight," he says with a sarcastic smile. I silently hope that I won't be either.

He heads towards me carrying a grocery bag and a six pack of beer in one hand, then steps up to me and gives me a big friendly hug. I'm taken back a bit, but I know this is him. I remember that he's warm and always greets close friends and family this way. This is a good sign.

I take the beer from his hand and carry it inside. This small act comes naturally to me. We walk into the living room, moving close together. Stacy has lively indie music playing on the radio.

"Hey guys!" she says greeting us all with hugs. "Come on in. Michael, the kitchen is all yours," she says, pointing towards it.

Everyone easily settles in. I help set out wine and chips. The guys open their beers and Michael gets to work cooking. The happy ambience pervades the house. We're all light hearted and living in this moment together. Stacy heads out to the patio with her sister, Bjorn and Lewis. This leaves Michael and me alone in the kitchen.

"Here, can you chop this?" he asks, handing me an onion. I dutifully take out the cutting board and knife and start my task.

We are quietly preparing a meal together, something I feel we have done many times. At some point we start singing along to a song together. It is easy, natural. We are content in this space together. Dinner is delicious. When I taste Michael's food I'm thrown back into a moment of familiarity. It tastes like home. I'm instantly comforted by its aroma and flavor.

After dinner, Michael pulls out Stacy's abandoned acoustic guitar and starts to strum. Her sister's ten month-old daughter crawls over to him and pulls herself up to stand near his legs. She begins to bounce along with the song. He looks down at her and smiles while he continues to play.

I'm thrown into another flash of memory. I see Stella. I see Michael singing in Swedish to her. Then my memory jumps and I see him teaching Olivia to play the guitar when she's eight. I am quickly pulled back into the present. My face feels hot and I'm now a little dizzy.

I glance around the room, but no one seems to notice my frazzled state. I slip out of the room and go to the patio for some fresh air. Breathe, breathe, breathe. You've got to breathe, Jenni.

I allow the evening breeze to kiss my face as I turn towards the setting sun. I close my eyes and focus on getting my pulse to slow down. Feeling a hand touch the middle of my back, I jump and turn to see who it is.

"Hey, you OK?" Michael asks.

"Oh, yeah, I just got warm in there," I reply.

"So, how are things with you? Everything going alright at home?" he asks, sincerely.

"Yes, actually. It's really good," I say, feeling better.

Michael pulls two patio chairs over for us to sit in. For the next hour we get lost in conversation. I explain Joe's and my situation and tell him what our plans are. He talks more about finishing school when he gets back home and the traveling that he wants to do. I tell him I want to go to Paris. He jokes that if I end up going, he'll meet me there.

We talk about Sweden and what it was like growing up there, and more about his friends and family. As he tells me about it, I feel as if I could finish most of his sentences. I don't remember things in detail, but they seem like stories I've heard before. Probably because I have.
CHAPTER 59

The night continues on with more wine, beer, singing and laughter. Stacy's sister and her family have gone home, so only the five of us are left. It's midnight when Bjorn finally passes out on the couch. Stacy and Lewis seem to be hitting it off, as they've spent most of the evening flirting and talking. Throughout the night Michael and I have also managed to have some deeper conversations about relationships, life and our hopes for the future.

It's now almost 1:00 in the morning, Michael doesn't feel comfortable driving and Lewis isn't in any shape to drive either. After a while, we realize Stacy and Lewis have disappeared.

"Uh oh," I say to Michael.

"Great," he says sarcastically. "Lewis has a tendency to get clingy, so this might not be ideal," he explains. I nod understandingly.

"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'll walk you home," he says, rising. He grabs his sweatshirt from the back of a chair as I head to the front door. Suddenly, I feel something drape over my shoulders. I reach around and feel the soft cotton of a sweatshirt covering me.

"It's cold outside," he remarks. I gently smile, delighted by the gesture.

We quietly make our way down the sidewalk. The night is very still and the houses are dark. An occasional glow from a television beams from an upstairs bedroom. I hear crickets and frogs sing in the nearby wetlands. We say nothing as we walk, content with hearing the night noises and enjoying 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 ahead of him.

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 remarks.

"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's in the bathroom, I wonder if he took his shoes off to stay or if it's a habit. I realize he did this at Stacy's too, so there may be nothing behind it. I'm almost certain it's a 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 faucent turn on and off and then the lock on the bathroom door click. Michael meanders to the kitchen, taking time to look at the artwork and pictures on the wall.

"Do you want some water?" I offer.

"Yes, thanks," he replies, then casually walks towards a picture of me on the mantel. "Pretty," he says, holding it up to show me.

I blush. It's my senior picture and one that I actually like and don't mind being out on display. 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's 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 and 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.

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's draped over the couch and wrap it around my shoulders before stepping outside. The feeling of the crisp air on my face helps with the rush of heat I feel when I'm with him. I sit down in a reclining patio chair. Michael finds another one and pulls it close enough that we'd 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've always loved it out here. Though it's 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's through and through connected to me, he just doesn't know it yet.

My heart's in my throat. I feel a lump swell and I fight back tears. I swallow hard, for fear if I speak I'll choke on the emotions I'm 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'm woken up by blinding sunlight piercing my eyes. I roll over to my other side and will myself to fall back to sleep. Michael's still sleeping on the opposite side of the bed with a small blanket covering his body. When we finally went to bed, it was platonic. We didn't even get under the covers, but instead slept on top of the comforter and used separate blankets.

We stayed up talking until almost 3:00 in the morning. After Michael 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 later made a friendly agreement that we were supposed to meet. He said he was grateful we were becoming friends and promised to stay in touch when he got back to Sweden. Michael explained that once he makes a good friend, he's always there for them. I'm certain he's telling the truth, as I feel loyalty is one of his strongest qualities.

Michael starts to stir awake, jostling me from my thoughts. He reaches over and touches my shoulder. "Come spoon with me," he grumbles. This surprises me, but without hesitation I turn and fold into his body. The blankets remain between us as he holds me. We are like innocent adolescents. Not kissing, not holding hands. Wanting to touch, but not crossing a line into serious physical intimacy.

A few minutes later the doorbell rings and disrupts our moment. I jump from the bed and scurry to my mom's office to look out the window. If there's a car parked outside, it might indicate who's 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, then he shuffles into the hall. His face is puffy from sleep, as we only got about five hours of it. He moves past me, heads down the stairs and opens the front door.

"Hey," he says, letting Lewis in.

"You ready to go?" Lewis asks him.

I walk down the stairs. Lewis looks up 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. He keeps his back turned but raises his hand in a wave.

I step closer to Michael, though I'm not sure how to say goodbye. He 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 quick 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 overcomes me after he walked out the door.

My body is aching with the urge to hold him again, kiss him, tell him I love him. It's as if that love has been awakened even more. I feel a gravitational pull to him. And when he's away, it's like I've lost a part of my physical self. My body still functions, but not as well when he isn't with me.

This won't do. 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 plead looking up. I don't know who I'm talking to. God, life, destiny? Maybe all three. But I need a sign—something to guide me to the next step. I need to know that I'm doing the right thing.
CHAPTER 61

The rest of the day moves at a painfully slow pace. I'm sad and feeling depressed. I call Astrid in the afternoon. I'm in a funk and need her to talk me through it. She's the psychic here and should be able to tell me if I'm 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 Michael 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, more I'm with him, the stronger I feel about our past and the more intense the emotions are. It's 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'm alone. When walking in, I am welcomed by the smell of roast chicken and garlic mashed potatoes. I'm starving, as I barely ate during the day.

"Take a load off, kid. Dinner's almost ready," my dad says, after he and Mary greets 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's a black plastic sphere in the middle.

"Hey, Dad? What's 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. 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?" it guesses.

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?"

I press "YES."

After about seventeen more similar questions that make me laugh out loud, I'm sure I will have this thing guessing "bear."

The game occasionally teases me and says things like, "I know what you're thinking." I highly 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 defeated me. My heart's thumping in my chest as I hold this plastic object that's flashing the answer, waiting for me to confirm if it's right.

I asked for a sign. 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 I'll have more opportunity when Michael leaves and my weekends aren't occupied with trying to get every free minute 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 (because the car they bought died after all), there's a familiar quiet 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'm nervous and excited. Though I feel like this is something we've 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's in the living room with Joe watching television, so I'm alone in my room when my cell phone rings. It's Astrid, who still hasn't returned my call from more than two weeks ago. "Astrid? I was beginning to worry about you," I say upon answering.

"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 elaborates.

"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! 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 hurriedly ask.

"Well, the man isn't in the best shape to talk. Apparently there were some.... effects," she admits.

"Effects? What kind of effects?" I ask, growing concerned.

"I'm 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's 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's 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, before hanging up.

It's just like Astrid to call and try to reassure me, but instead confuse me even more. This is _not_ helpful information. It's frustrating. I'm the type of person that likes to get things done. I like instant results and this has been the biggest test of my patience that I can recall. Everything's a waiting game, nothing feels tangible and I have no way to know if I'm doing anything right.
CHAPTER 63

Dusk is setting in over the Seattle skyline as we pull into the city on this crisp May evening. Lights from tall building windows illuminate the air and I grow more excited as we take the exit towards the hotel.

The ride here was easy and fun. Lewis drove Stacy's car and she played DJ. Michael, Bjorn and I squeezed into the back, with me in the middle. This forced me to be close to Michael, who let me lay my head on his shoulder while I napped.

"Ok, so I think we take a right here and it should be a half mile down that way," Stacy says, navigating from the directions she printed from the internet. Michael snaps pictures as we drive through the busy streets. The camera preview shows smears of car lights and businesses. The pictures aren't clear, but are artistic-looking.

"Ohhhh," Lewis says, starting to laugh as we approach the hotel....or rather, motel. Stacy had booked a hotel online that was downtown and within a twenty minute walk to Pike Street Market and the Space Needle. The price for a double suite was decent and now we know why.

The outside of the building is painted a mint green color that's showing serious signs of wear and it's obvious that people don't just stay one night. I'm inclined to believe that some people live here, as there are potted plants in a few of the windows.

"Well, this should be interesting," Michael says.

"Damn it!" Stacy says, disappointed.

I lean forward and squeeze her shoulder. "It's OK. We won't be staying in the room that much and the location is good. We will just make sure to lock the doors!" I assure her, laughing.

"What's that guy doing up there?" Bjorn says, pointing to a room on the second level. A man with a large video camera on his shoulder puts out a cigarette and walks back into a room, then shuts the door.

"Making a porno movie," Michael and I joke in unison. We look at each other and laugh.

"Great," Stacy says, as she gets out of the car and heads into the lobby.

A few minutes later we head up to our room, which is luckily on the opposite side of whatever movie is being made in the other unit. Upon entering the room we're immediately hit with the smell of cigarette smoke coming from the room next door.

I drop my bags near one of the three twin-sized beds in the main room and decide to take a tour. On my right is a full-sized bathroom, decorated in dark pink and green. Across from that's an adjoining door to the smoker's room. I grab an extra blanket from the closet shelf, bundle it and press it against the door to block the smoke.

"Good idea," Michael says, noticing what I'm doing. I shrug and nod.

The main bedroom is decorated with old wood paneling and the yellow painted cinder block wall supports windows covered in plaid curtains. The queen-sized bed is slightly sunk in the middle and I'm now praying the sheets are actually clean.

"OK, so girls in this room, boys in the front?" Stacy asks when entering the room.

I quickly glance at Michael, who makes eye contact with me. "Sure thing," he politely agrees, and then leaves.

"So, no cuddle time with Lewis tonight?" I tease her.

"Oh, no, no, no," she quickly responds. "One night of cuddling and he thinks we're married. I need to draw the boundary line."

We freshen up after the four-hour car ride and decide to walk to dinner. Once we get out of the motel parking lot, the city offers a more visually pleasing experience. The sidewalks are clean, the trees are maintained and the businesses around us are upscale and inviting. After walking for a while, we settle on the Pie Palace, as it's still happy hour and they have plenty of seating. I take notice that Michael has been a little quiet during the walk here.

"You OK?" I ask him quietly when we sit down at our table. He smiles slightly and nods. I know this face. He's distracted, something is on his mind.

Dinner comes quickly, and we eat up and then drink even more. Stacy, Lewis and Bjorn are caught up in the moment and enjoying the loud atmosphere. But Michael has been more reserved and I'm having a hard time tuning it out.

When we leave I reach for Michael's arm to slow him down to walk with me. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing," he replies, unconvincingly.

Lewis, Stacy and Bjorn continue ahead of us, not realizing we are hanging back while they laugh and talk as they walk down the sidewalk towards the motel. Michael is walking with his head down, lost in thought.

"OK, stop," I say, stopping him in the middle of the walkway. "What's up with you, tonight?" I ask frustrated. I don't care how well we do or don't know each other at this point. I hate sulking and that's what he's doing. I just want to have a good time and I can't with him in this mood.

He looks down for a minute and thinks, then looks up at the sky and sighs a big sigh. "I just want this weekend to go well. But mostly, I'm having a hard time imagining leaving. I love being here with you guys, and I have a little over a week until I have to go back home," he says.

"So, are you afraid that if you just let go and have a good time it will be harder to leave?" I ask.

He stares down at the sidewalk and nods. He's embarrassed by his emotions, but they are honest. It's almost childlike and my nurturing side kicks in. I gently place my hands on both sides of his face and lift his chin so he's looking at me.

"I don't want you to leave either. But we need to make the most of this weekend. We need to not think about you leaving. We need to let ourselves go and make memories and not have any regrets," I explain.

He looks into my eyes and I don't look away. He really sees me. "You're right. I'm sorry," he says. He then takes my hand and gently kisses it. To my delight, he doesn't let go as we make our way behind the rest of the group.

We walk all the way back to the motel holding hands. It feels so natural. I lean closer into him as he tells me a story about his best friend in Sweden. I don't even care when Bjorn, Stacy and Lewis stop to wait and notice us holding hands. It isn't their business, it isn't their life.

When we get back to the hotel, Stacy starts making vodka tonics for all of us, and turns the radio on. If there's any motel where we could get loud and not worry about getting in trouble, this would be the place. It's almost after 1:00 a.m. when I decide to turn in for the night.

"I want to play _Truth or Dare_ ," Stacy pleads like a child who wants to stay up later.

"You have fun with that, but I'm going to bed," I say chuckling.

Michael is lying down on one of the beds, almost asleep. "Do you want to play?" Stacy asks him, trying to shake him awake.

"No thanks. I'm tired," he says, with his eyes still shut.

"OK, OK, you go to my room and I'll sleep out here," she says half slurring. I perk up, because that means Michael can share a bed with me....again!

I casually make my way to the bathroom to wash my face and take a quick shower after the long day. When I'm finished, I try to make myself looks less bland without makeup, but there's no point really. In the morning, I will look my worst and I guess he will take it or leave it. I know he has before!

Michael and I pass in the hallway as he makes his way into the bathroom. I hear the shower turn on as I flip on the bedside lamp and nervously make my way into my side of the bed, which is always the side closest to the bathroom.

When Michael returns he's in a pair of workout shorts and a t-shirt. "Do you mind if I crack the window?" he asks. I shake my head. He opens the window letting the cool night air in, then gently lies down on his side of the bed.

"OK, goodnight," I say, then turn to switch off the lamp. I lay back down and stare up at the popcorn ceiling. The room still isn't completely dark, due to the city lights outside. I hear Stacy's laughter coming from the front room. I know she's had too much to drink, but she can handle herself.

I look over to see Michael is lying with his back to me. He starts to stir and flips onto his back. We both lay there in silence. I'm not sure if he wants to talk or sleep. Suddenly, I feel his hand searching around the covers, then his fingers intertwine with mine.

"Goodnight, love," he whispers.
CHAPTER 64

On Saturday afternoon we're all tired from walking around Seattle most of the morning. We decide to take a nap before dinner, as we will need energy for the late night ahead. Stacy decides she'll just sleep in the main room, as she did the night before, so Michael and I go back to our room and try our best to sleep, but end up talking and snuggling.

Being with him is so easy. There's no awkwardness when we reach out to each other. There's nothing sexual, though I wouldn't be opposed to it turning that way. But I can tell he's trying to be respectful.

In his mind, I'm still married with a small child, even though Joe and I have filed for divorce. Though I don't think he had a problem with this the first time we got together—in our "real" life—I hadn't been in a serious relationship for more than two years, from what I remember. I was fair game then, and Olivia was never an issue. I'm certain that he always wanted kids.

My current situation leads us into a more serious discussion. "What do you want to do with your life, now that you'll be single?" Michael asks.

I ponder this for a minute. I'm not sure how to respond. I opt for honesty. "I want to fall in love again," I reply.

"Hmm," he says, considering my answer. He reaches out and entangles my fingers in his. "Give yourself some time," he cautions.

"I will. But I haven't been in love for quite a while" I admit.

He raises himself up on his elbow to face me. "You don't want to end up in a rebound relationship, though."

I meet his eyes. "That won't happen," I say.

"Oh really? How can you be sure?" he jokingly prods.

"Because I'm saving myself for someone," I say.

He thinks about my remark for a moment. I can tell he's confused and not sure how to respond, as he is squinting a little. He's trying to decipher what I mean. Michael leans in and kisses me on the cheek, then lays back and pulls me in so my head rests on his chest.

We lay like this for a few minutes before Stacy knocks on the door and slowly opens it. I sit up. "Hey," I say tiredly. She has a big smile on her face. Michael can tell she wants to talk to me, so he gets up from the bed.

"Beer time!" he announces as he heads out of the room.

Stacy closes the door behind him and sits down on the bed. "Oh my God, Jen. Lewis and I couldn't sleep so we went on a walk," she says and begins to giggle. "I made out with him, Jen."

I start to laugh. "So...," I say.

She shrugs. "I guess he wants to date me," she says, her whispering voice filled with giddiness.

This admission makes me laugh inside. Yesterday she was acting like he was a clingy girl and now she's excited to have him as her boyfriend. Oh well. To each their own!

"I guess that's the magic of Seattle," I say, somewhat sarcastically.

Stacy gets up, energized with the possibility of new found love. "OK, let's get pretty and go out for dinner and dancing!" she says.

"Woo hoo!" I say overenthusiastically.

Though I am happy for Stacy, who has had nothing but bad luck in relationships, I'm a bit saddened and jealous. And a lot of this feels very familiar. I'm sure this has happened before and I'm sure the situation is almost the same.

As I sit for a moment digesting my conversation with Michael and Stacy's news, I hear someone singing from the alley down below. It's a man, and his voice is deep and soulful. It's getting closer as he passes below our window. I cannot recognize the tune, but I can tell it's a love song. I feel my body getting warm and flushed. Tingles start to erupt in my brain and I'm starting to feel zapping through my body. I close my eyes and brace myself. I feel out of control.

I see Michael. We are lying in bed, this same bed...we are in Seattle. He is holding my hands and looking into my eyes. He looks serious. "I'm not done with you yet. I'm going to marry you someday," he says.

I feel the sensation leave as quickly as it came. We've been here before. We have slept in this bed. We fell in love here. And I now know for certain that THIS is the place where everything changed. This is the weekend that everything came to the surface.

After shaking off the episode, I manage to get ready and go on about my evening with everyone. After a nice dinner we head down to a waterfront club. As soon as we walk in, the up tempo music and vibe of the club forces me to let go of my anxiety.

Michael gets me a drink from the bar and leads me to the dance floor, where Bjorn, Stacy and Lewis are already dancing. He puts his arm around me and moves me in closer to the group. I have to live by what I told Michael to do this weekend. Let go, have fun and make memories.

I may not have this opportunity with him again. I have to make the most of the time we have. He's with me at this moment. In a month, a year or a decade he may not be. There are no guarantees with anything in life, but we are guaranteed tonight.

CHAPTER 65

The week following our Seattle trip is a whirlwind. From the time I get home on Sunday evening, it's non-stop. Joe and I finalize all the divorce papers, have them notarized and turn them in to the courthouse. All we have to do now is wait a minimum of ninety days for the official divorce decrees and the process will be over.

I've noticed he's been more cheerful lately and not as evasive. On Wednesday night, I join him and Olivia for dinner at what we are now calling "her house." We all enjoy each other's company and I love seeing the big smile across her face as she tells us about her day at school.

The week has been busy, with Michael and Bjorn completing a company presentation to get their full intern credit. And I'm now preparing myself for two things. The going away party we are throwing for them on Friday, and the last night I get with Michael on Saturday—possibly, the very last night.

My mom and her husband are heading out of town again, so I offer to house sit. Joe is happy to stay with Olivia over the weekend, so I don't have to worry about what to do with her. I feel like a half-ass mom at this point, but luckily it doesn't seem to be affecting her, since I'm home with her every week night. She just sees it as extra time with her dad. If she only knew why I was gone so much, she might understand. I'm doing what I have to for the sake of our future.

On Friday we hustle around the office to get the presentation going on the projector in the conference room. I take a seat in the back with Stacy while Bjorn and Michael wait for the rest of the company members to settle in.

Bjorn is nervous, but Michael talks with ease, as if he's having a conversation with a good friend. They go through their slides, discussing the market research they conducted. And at the end they show a silly slideshow with pictures of their time here and talk about the fun they had getting to know everyone. A few pictures of Seattle, the trade show in LA, their crappy broke down car and other group photos appear on the screen. I try my best not to cry. I've shared some of the best moments of my life with him in such a short time.

At 4:00 p.m. we leave the office early so I can take them back to their house to gather their things, as they've decided to stay with me through the weekend. I park the car in the alley and follow them through the back entrance of the large house. It smells the same as the day I came in to sign their lease, which takes me back to how this journey began.

We make our way to the large room they share. Originally, they each had their own room, but an ant infestation in Michael's room forced him to bunk up with Bjorn. Upon entering, they quickly grab their sparse belongings. Their suitcases are already packed, so it's only a few minutes until we are ready to leave.

I follow Michael as he walks through the house and says his goodbyes to the quiet introverts he has become acquainted with. The house is made up of mostly foreign exchange students or socially awkward guys who find their outlet behind computer screens. But Michael has a way about him that makes even the shyest people comfortable, and they tend to open up to him.

From there we head straight to my mom's. Michael throws some pasta together so we don't go out hungry before their "goodbye" pub crawl downtown. I head upstairs to shower and get ready. I take my time shaving, scrubbing and doing my makeup and hair. This is our last "hurrah" so I want to look my best.

Stacy and Lewis show up at the house around 7:00. They are giddy, like two teenagers, and it honestly sort of annoys me how publicly affectionate they are. I don't know, but it could be a touch of jealousy. Michael seems as unamused as I am at their behavior. Mostly because in a week's time, Lewis now only talks about Stacy and claims he wants to marry her. Michael and I care about them both, but their relationship has been the source of a few jokes over our recent late night instant messaging sessions.

When I finally make my way downstairs, the living room is alive with laughter and music. Stacy is sitting on Lewis' lap and drinking a glass of wine. Michael is putting the dinner dishes in the dishwasher, and without looking at me hands me a bowl of pasta to quickly eat.

Then he turns around from his task and notices me. "You look nice," he says, smiling.

"Thanks," I say, before shoving a fork full of noodles into my mouth.

"I gotta get my coat and shoes," he says. But before he makes his way past me he sneaks in a kiss on my cheek. I instantly feel warm. I look at Stacy, who noticed the kiss and is now smiling at me. I shake my head at her, indicating that it's not a big deal.

When Michael comes back into the kitchen, he is wearing a dark navy blazer, a t-shirt, dark dress jeans and dress shoes. This is the style right now, and he looks cleverly handsome.

"Let's get pictures!" Stacy exclaims, while running to get her camera.

"OK, Michael and Jen, get together," she instructs. Michael puts his arm around me and I lean in close. "Perfect," she says, examining the shot on her camera display screen.

I walk over to take a look. I'm pleasantly surprised by the image. There is sincere happiness on our faces. We look like a real couple, like we belong to each other.

We hustle downtown to meet up with the rest of our co-workers at one of the only dance clubs in town. Drinks immediately start flowing and everyone's having a good time. Michael is beaming with joy, as he was surprised so many people came out to see them off. He loves to entertain and genuinely enjoys being around people. Even though I'm having fun, I am occasionally hit with pangs of sadness and fear over losing him in two days. It's hard to enjoy these last moments with him, when I'm so preoccupied by his impending departure.

Before the night is over, we head to a few other pubs and bars. Michael even gets the group to sing Karaoke, which makes for a lot of entertainment considering how many people are drunk and way off key. However, he manages to stay on note the whole time, as he's musical and a decent singer.

I keep mentally replaying the vision I had at the fountains a few months ago. Even though this night has happened before, we haven't gone to the same club, and there wasn't the instance of him kissing me on the way to the bathroom. We also haven't consummated our relationship like I thought we already had at that time. This fact makes me worry that our path has been thrown off course.

Astrid has told me not to force anything or fight the current. I've been sticking to her instructions, and this is probably why I have Michael as close as I do right now. But I can't help wonder if I missed something along the way. Come Sunday, he will be farther away than ever before.
CHAPTER 66

I wake up late on Saturday morning and lay in bed trying to remember the events from the night before. The last thing I can recall is Bjorn, Michael and I coming home around 2:00 a.m. and deciding to eat sandwiches. I remember hoisting myself up on the corner of the kitchen counter to watch Michael prepare our food. After we finished eating, he walked over and gave me a big hug. For a moment we stayed in silence, embracing. I even had my legs wrapped around him.

Eventually we made our way upstairs to my mom's room. Michael had oddly enough put his bags in there with mine. We routinely got ready for bed as if we were a couple—brushed our teeth in the bathroom together, washed our faces. When it came time for him to shower, I left the bathroom and went to lay down on the bed. My head was heavy with alcohol and I must have fallen asleep quickly. Then I woke up and realized it was already 11:00 a.m.

I look over to the other side of the bed and see Michael isn't there. I hear the television on downstairs and the smell of coffee is teasing my nose. I shuffle down the stairs, as I'm in no rush to do anything or go anywhere. When I get to the living room, Bjorn and Michael are each lying on a couch watching a movie.

"Morning," I say, heading straight for the coffee pot.

"Morning, sunshine," Michael calls from the couch. Bjorn says nothing. I look over and see that he's fallen asleep watching TV.

The sun is shining bright and the house is already getting warm from the southern exposure. I fix my cup of coffee and head outside to the patio. The beaming warmth of the sun penetrates my tired bones and I immediately feel rejuvenated, as my body absorbs the sun's rays.

The patio door slides open and shuts from behind me. I squint as I turn to see who's there. Michael has decided to join me with a cup of coffee as well.

"Last night was fun," he comments.

"Yeah...it was," I reply, content.

Even though things didn't go exactly as I remembered the first time around, the feelings are still the same. We still got to the place where I believe we once were. Good friends, with something like love between us. Definitely more on the "love" side for me.

Michael walks behind me and rests his chin on my shoulder. "I love you, friend," he whispers.

Hearing him say these words might make any other girl think that he was trying to set a boundary, but knowing Michael the way I think I do, this is actually a deeper proclamation. Once Michael sees you and loves you as a friend, you are a friend for life. He plans to keep me close.

I quietly inhale and try not to let my emotions come through. I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck, being careful not to spill our coffee. "I love you back," I manage to say without tears.

I believe that Michael and I are still this way in our future. Our relationship's foundation is built on a strong friendship, and we have maintained it. Even though we had our problems, and some that I suppose forced me back to this time, we still had that bond. It was the emotional place we would try to go to whenever our romantic relationship wasn't as strong. However, it appears that I forgot that, and it could be the reason I'm back in this life.

"I never thought I would meet someone like you when I came here," he confesses.

"I know you didn't," I reply.

"I'm glad I did," he says, gently stroking my hair. This gesture instills even more familiarity of our relationship in me.

He clears his throat and kisses my neck as he pulls away. I see what I think are tears in his eyes as he turns and walks back inside. I smile, in knowing that he loves me.
CHAPTER 67

Though I feel bad for the emotions Michael is going through, I'm excited at the possibility that he won't completely let me go when he leaves tomorrow. If he really feels connected to me, then he might find a way to hang on. And I need him to hang on.

After lunch, Michael spends some time re-packing a few things upstairs while I get ready for the company that will arrive in two hours, as we are having a barbecue. A little after 3:00 p.m. my cell phone rings. I pick it up to check the caller ID. Immediately a knot hardens in my stomach when seeing that it's Joe. I take the phone and quickly head to the garage where it's quiet.

"Hello?" I answer, acting cheerful.

"Hey, Jen, sorry to bug you, but it just occurred to me that tomorrow is Mother's Day and Olivia has a gift she really wants to give to you," he explains.

Crap! In the midst of all of this, I totally forgot that it was Mother's Day weekend. I feel like a horrible mother.

"You know what, I would love to get that from her," I quickly reply.

"Well, what if she came and stayed there with you tonight?" he suggests.

I hurriedly try to figure out how this will work. I'm not technically married to Joe anymore, but Olivia has only been around Michael on occasion during the few company functions we've had, like "Bring Your Daughter to Work Day." This would change up the night a bit, but she could just sleep with me and I could put Michael in a spare bedroom. Besides, I'm sure he would enjoy being around her.

"Sure, OK. I'll come and get her in an hour," I say before hanging up.

I tell Bjorn and Michael the new plan, and they're both fine with it. Michael even moves his stuff to the spare bedroom where Olivia normally sleeps. Around 4:00 p.m. I leave Michael and Bjorn to skewer the shish kabobs while I get Olivia. I drive quickly to the house and meet her at the door.

"Hi, Mommy!" she squeals.

"Hi, baby!" I say, hugging her tight.

When I enter the house, Joe walks out of the kitchen. "Hey there," he says, chipper.

"Hi," I say back to him, then turn to Olivia. "Are you all packed?" I ask her.

"Yep. I just gotta get my backpack," she says, as she runs back to her room.

"So, what are you going to do tonight?" I ask Joe, making conversation.

He gets a slight grin on his face. He appears a little sheepish. "Actually...I have a date," he says.

Oddly enough this admission makes me a bit hopeful. I'm curious, and a little put off, but this could be a good thing.

"Oh, really. With who?" I ask, trying to be nonchalant.

"Just a girl I met at work," he says, trying to downplay it. But I can tell by his expression, that he's happy about this.

"Good, Joe. I'm happy for you," I say smiling.

My admission surprises him. "Really?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah. You deserve good things," I reply.

Joe seems to relax and he grins. "Thanks," he says.

"OK, Mommy, I'm ready!" Olivia shouts as she runs into the living room wearing her backpack and carrying a large teddy bear.

"Great!" I say enthusiastically.

Joe bends down and gives her a quick hug. "Have a good Mother's Day. I'll be staying here tonight, but gone by late morning," he says.

"No worries. Have a good date," I say, jokingly giving him a thumbs up. He chuckles, then closes the door behind us.

In the car, I decide to try to get Olivia to tell me who Joe is going out with. "Hey, Livi, have you met any of daddy's friends that are girls?" I innocently ask.

"Um, no," she says, oblivious to my intent as she looks out the car window.

"Do you know where he's going tonight?" I question.

"Uh, uh." she answers. I deflate. This is frustrating. I want to know if it's Rachel! "But he talked to his friend Sara today," she reveals.

Sara? Who the hell is Sara? "Oh, does she work with daddy?" I inquire.

"Yeah, she's really nice. She gave me a sucker when we went in to daddy's work yesterday," she says excitedly.

Crap! Somehow in the midst of this, Joe has managed to land with the wrong girl. Damn it! I quickly think of what I can do to throw him back on course, but like Astrid says, I'm not supposed to try and control the outcome. What am I going to do about this anyway? Intervene? Play matchmaker? I think not.
CHAPTER 68

I'm still a little irritated at Olivia's revelation about "Sara" when I pull into my mom's driveway. Lewis' car is parked on the street in front of the house, so I assume that Stacy is already here too. When I step out of the car I'm greeted by the pleasant scent of a smoking grill nearby. This instantly calms me and turns my mood around. I love barbecues and the smell transcends me to the easy breezy summer days to come. Warm sun, longer days, wearing shorts, tan legs, the smell of sunscreen, swimming pools and the casualness of the season. I remind myself that this is the last night with Michael that I can be sure of. I need to drop the other stuff about Joe from my mind and focus on the here and now.

Olivia practically bounces into the house, excited to see her "Auntie Stacy" and play with the dog. My mom's house is like her second home, equipped with her own bedroom and lots of toys. Once inside the house, she immediately runs to the backyard to greet everybody. I hear voices greet Olivia, followed by her giggles—which I assume are inspired by the dog licking her face. I take off my shoes and put her things by the stairs.

"Hi!" Michael says from behind, startling me.

"Shit!" I say, laughing. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he says. "Hey, I had Lewis run me down to the store when you were gone and I got Olivia this. Do you think she'll like it?" he asks, while reaching for a large, pink ball behind the banister.

My heart melts. "She will love it,'' I say. "Thank you."

He eagerly heads out to the back yard. I stay in the house and watch out the picture window as he approaches Olivia and hands her the ball. A wide smile sweeps across her face and she leans in to hug him while thanking him. Seconds later, they're playing a game of soccer with the big ball that looks like a giant bubble gum bubble.

Olivia is wildly chasing the ball and trying to kick it, laughing the entire time. Michael is enjoying himself just as much. My heart aches a bit at the thought that he may never do this again with her or never get the chance to play with his own daughter, Stella.

I fight the urge to cry while preparing dinner. Michael, Stacy, Bjorn, Olivia and Lewis stay outside to take advantage of what's left of the sunshine as the sun begins its retreat. I preoccupy myself with a glass of wine, music and chopping vegetables. Michael checks in occasionally to see if I need help, but I just smile and tell him that I'm fine and to go enjoy himself.

After a while Lewis walks into the house. "The barbecue tank seems low. Michael is going to run to Stacy's to get hers," he says.

"Oh, OK. I'll go with him. I know where it is," I say. I check with Stacy, who's coloring with Olivia at the patio table, and make sure she'll keep an eye on her.

"You going with me?" Michael asks, while putting on his shoes.

I nod. "Yep," I say.

"Good," he says, smiling.

The sun is beginning to tuck itself behind the coastal mountains when we step out of the house. The sky is painted orange and pink, and is almost blinding if you stare at it too long. As we begin our journey, Michael slips his hand into mine. We continue to walk in silence as we make our way through the neighborhood towards Stacy's. Birds are chirping here and there. There's no one out on the street. It's so peaceful.

We head up Stacy's driveway and I open the gate to her backyard. Michael walks ahead to start disconnecting the propane tank from the grill. I wait by the gate while he completes his task and watch some birds flying across the sky. It's the beginning of a beautiful night.

Michael comes around from the side of the house with the tank cradled in his arms. I can tell that it's full of gas and a bit heavy. I'm disappointed by the realization that we won't be holding hands on the way back to my mom's. And because Olivia is there, we are being careful not to be affectionate in front of her. It's too soon for her to see me with someone else. And I don't want her sharing any information about Michael and me with Joe.

We slowly make our way down the sidewalk to the house. I'm a few steps ahead of Michael, who is concentrating on carrying the tank in an upright position. The sunset glows from behind him, illuminating his body. Life couldn't point him out for me anymore obviously than it is right now. The light of the sun radiating upon him acts like a spotlight.

I stop at the corner where we usually cross and watch him approach me while I wait. He grunts a little as he sets the gas tank down to rest. His eyes meet mine and it happens before I can even sense it coming. Michael pulls me in, hands gently placed behind the back of my neck, and kisses me fully.

It's like coming home after being gone for years. It's like breathing again when you didn't even realize you were out of breath. A rush of new, yet familiar life fills my lungs and body at once. My heart beats fast and hard in my chest. I lose all sense of what surrounds us and fall completely into his embrace. With every careful kiss, I feel my soul plant itself deeper into a foundation that I know we've built before. I hold on to every sensation, absorb it all and let it course through my veins until it settles.

When we finally move apart we stare at each other for a moment. I only see him, he only sees me. Can he feel it too?
CHAPTER 69

To maintain an appropriate environment for Olivia, Michael sleeps in the guest room on Saturday night. I wake up the next morning to find Olivia turned half way around, her legs sprawled over my abdomen. The house is quiet. I look at the bedside clock, it's only 7:00. I let out a big sigh and prepare myself for what lies ahead. He leaves today.

My heart feels like it could split in two as I accept this reality. He's only steps away in the next room and by tomorrow he will be more than five thousand miles, nine hours and an ocean away. I start to feel shaky with anxiety. I curse my body for confining me here.

I quietly get out of the bed and slip out of the room, closing the door behind me. I carefully open the door into Michael's room and peek in. Rather than sleeping, he's sitting up in bed, writing something. He notices the door opening and quickly looks up.

He smiles and sets aside the paper and pen. "Hey," he whispers.

"Hi," I reply, slumping into the bed with him. I fold myself into his arms and bury my head into his chest. I just want to stay here. I want to keep his scent and his warmth with me always. I wish I could bottle it.

He lightly rubs my back and returns the embrace. "So, today is the day," he whispers. I nod. "I'm sorry," he says sensing my sadness.

After a while, we hear Olivia stir, so I quickly go back to the room we're sharing before she realizes I'm gone. Michael leaves his room to shower in the hall bathroom. When I return, Olivia greets me with big "good morning" hug and I snuggle back in bed with her. She's my constant. She's the one thing that always kept me grounded when I was single, between the time I divorced Joe and when I met Michael. We had our own life together. She was my little trooper. I could take her anywhere, around anyone. She was always well behaved.

I never let anyone I was dating meet her. From what I recall, the only reason I let Michael meet her before we'd started dating was because I never had an initial romantic interest in him. I wasn't worried that he would enter her life and then leave, because I didn't think we would ever be so involved. When we did decide to start a relationship, she already knew him as Mommy's friend and liked him.

"Happy Mother's Day, Mommy," Olivia says, squeezing me as best she can. I'm reminded of the holiday and take a mental note to call my mom and Mary later. She then jumps off the bed, runs to her backpack, unzips the front compartment and pulls out a flower made of craft paper.

"Here you go," she says, proudly handing me the gift. I wrap my arms around her tiny body and hug her tight.

Later on, we all get ready and pack my car up with Michael and Bjorn's luggage. We have three hours until they need to catch the shuttle to the airport that's two hours away, so we decide to have lunch downtown with Stacy and Lewis—our last meal together.

We have a quick lunch at a pizza place and then stop for gelato. It's a gorgeous day, so we decide to walk while eating our dessert. Olivia is happily walking ahead of us with her treat in hand. Bjorn, Stacy and Lewis are talking about motorcycles, but Michael and I remain quiet while strolling down the riverfront path. It's a bittersweet moment, my heart is heavy with the weight of it all.

We make our way to the in-ground fountains, where other children are playing in the water. "Can I go, Mommy?" Olivia eagerly asks.

"Sure, just take off your shoes first," I tell her.

I sit down on a large, warm rock bench and watch as she carefully approaches a fountain that's sprouting water three feet high. Michael sets his gelato cup down and sneaks up behind Olivia. He then scoops her up and runs with her through the fountains. She's screaming with laughter as he ducks in and out of the fountain rows. They're both getting wet, but don't seem to care. Stacy pulls her camera from her purse and starts taking video.

Flashes begin in my head that are quick and painful. This moment has happened before. In a minute, Olivia will run up to me, wet and tired. Michael will be out of breath from running with her. The flash stops and I breathe quietly to calm myself without drawing attention. As I collect myself, Olivia runs over and grabs my legs, making them wet. Everything I just pictured starts to take place.

Michael makes his way to me with a big smile on his face, happily panting from the activity. His shirt is wet, along with his shoes. "You OK?" he asks, noticing my confused expression. I nod to assure him, but I'm not convinced myself.

We sit out in the sun for a bit longer to allow Michael and Olivia time to get dry. After forty-five minutes, Bjorn sits up from the bench he was lying on and turns to Michael. "It's time to head over," he says. My heart slows, then painfully aches. I'm not ready for what's about to happen.

I look at Lewis and Stacy cuddling on a rock together. As they kiss and nuzzle and relish in their new found relationship, I sit here and die a little inside. The love of my life is about to leave me. This is horribly painful and the worst part is that I have to hide how much it hurts. No one but Astrid knows how deeply in love with Michael I am. No one else knows how certain I am that he's the person I'm supposed to be with for the rest of my life.

As I grudgingly strap Olivia into her booster seat and get behind the wheel of my car, I try my best to remain calm and prepare myself to say goodbye to Michael. As we drive through town to the shuttle stop, I feel like I'm part of a funeral procession. Everything seems to be moving slowly and it's eerily quiet. I want to stop time, I want to stop this moment and tell Michael everything. I want to prevent this from being the end....but I can't.

Lewis and Stacy pull into the parking lot ahead of us and park. They get out casually, as if nothing is happening. Because to them, nothing is, other than saying bye to a couple of new friends. Their stake in this situation is low.

Michael is as hesitant to move as I am. He's suddenly grown quiet and seems down. Bjorn quickly gets out of the car and walks to the trunk to get his bags. Olivia is now asleep in the backseat, so we are careful to not wake her when closing the car doors. I make sure the windows are all the way down so she gets air, while we stand outside of the car and wait.

Michael grabs his large suitcase and backpack from the trunk and exhales heavily as he closes it. I stand in silence, willing myself not to break down and cause a scene. Lewis and Stacy stand on the curb near the shuttle stop. They decide to say their goodbyes now because they have to get to his Lewis's parents' house for dinner soon. I'm grateful they will not be here to witness my reaction to Michael's departure. Within minutes they're in their car and off, but not before Stacy gives me a wink and mouths to me to call her later. She can sense that I'm sad.

The situation is bittersweet—emphasis on the "bitter." He came, we met, we feel something and now he has to leave. This isn't as simple as saying, "Hey, come back and live with me." Michael is young and has to finish school. And then there's the fact that we have technically only known each other for three months in this current time. He's not an impulsive person. He thinks things through and it would be out of his character to take a gamble and be irresponsible. Even if I told him what I know, he would have trouble accepting that as truth. He isn't one to get caught up in grandeur, drama or unrealistic fantasy.

The shuttle bus pulls into the parking lot, disrupting my last quiet moments with him. I want to throw up and cry at the same time. This is all wrong! Michael looks at me with apologetic eyes. He seems torn between what he wants to do and what he has to do. I can tell by how he's acting that he's also struggling with this. Even though I'm relieved to see that he's feeling something, what difference does it make now? He has to go and I can't do anything to stop him.

I look back to check that Olivia is still safely sleeping. Bjorn walks over to me and gives me a big hug. "Thank you for everything, Jennifer. I had such a good time, and if you ever come to Sweden, we shall have a beer!" he says cheerfully, before getting on the bus.

Michael hesitantly steps towards me. He's pressing his lips together firmly. Tears are beginning to fill my eyes. Michael sees this and pulls me close. "Don't cry," he whispers. I fight hard to hold them back. Once I let them go, I won't be able to stop.

"We will always be in touch," he says. I nod, with my head buried in his shoulder.

The shuttle driver lets out a honk, indicating it's time to go. I slowly pull away from Michael and look at him. "I'll miss you," I manage to say, before choking back tears.

He nods and leans in to kiss my forehead. "Here," he says, handing me a folded square of paper. "Wait until I'm gone to read it," his voice strains.

"I will," I sadly comply.

He quickly reaches out for one last embrace, before hurrying on to the bus. I stand frozen in place and watch as he takes his seat. The shuttle pulls out of the parking lot and I follow it with my eyes as it moves down the road until I can no longer see it.

I dash back to the car and quietly get in, careful not to wake Olivia. My fingers scramble to unfold the paper, anxious to see what he wrote. I take a deep breath and prepare to read his words.

"Jen,

When you read this I will probably not be around anymore. We have talked a lot these last few weeks and I feel that we really did connect on a different level. One higher than most people are fortunate enough to experience. If your eyes tear, wipe them away and smile. I will be thinking of you.

Good friends are hard to come by and soul mates are like finding a needle in a haystack. But I was lucky enough to find you. We were meant to meet, but I don't know for what purpose yet. We will find out in time. Time always tells. And this won't be the last time we meet.

Keep being the wonderful mother that you are. Olivia will see how lucky she is in time, maybe she already has.

I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart—as a matter of fact, from the bottom of ME—for being my friend. You have changed me into someone better, someone more human. Love, huh? Weird it is, yet we all want it. Thank you for your love. I love you back, madly. I've known you for three months and I leave you these pages of "I Love You," my kindred spirit.

If you ever need anything at any time, I will be there for you. I will try my best to help you. We will always be in touch. Goodbye, my Jenni. Much love, many hugs, you are the best.

Your soul mate forever,

Michael"
CHAPTER 70

The night crawls by like molasses. I'm restless, but emotionally exhausted. After quietly crying in the car all the way home, I manage to pull it together to avoid worrying Olivia, who slept through the ordeal.

After feeding her dinner, bathing her and putting her to bed, I sit quietly in the living room and try to release all of the tension and fear by telling myself it's all going to be OK. Stacy sent me a text message earlier asking how I was, but I didn't feel like talking to anyone. I simply wrote back, "Fine," and left it at that. I'm almost crawling out of my skin with the feeling of helplessness. He was just here....and now he's gone. Tomorrow I'll go to work, and the desk he normally sits at will be empty. The space that he once filled will be a void. I will be a void.

All of these emotions are almost making me physically ill, partly because they're uncomfortably familiar. It's like hearing a song you're sure that you know, but not remembering the words. I'm feeling frustrated by the desire to sing along, but afraid of singing the wrong lyrics.

I'm still lying wide awake in bed after midnight, when my phone begins buzzing and lights up on the nightstand. I quickly grab it to avoid waking Olivia, who begged to sleep with me tonight. I didn't mind, since I was feeling lonely. I'm elated when seeing there's a message from Michael.

"Layover in Chicago. I hope you're OK."

I feel a rush of adrenaline race through my fingers as I try to reply. "I miss you already," I type.

A few minutes pass until my phone buzzes with another text. "Me too. Did you find the gift I left you in your bag?" he writes.

I'm confused by his question. The only thing he gave me was the note at the shuttle stop. I lean over to my duffle bag that remains on the floor unpacked. Using my cellphone to illuminate the inside of the bag, I dig through dirty clothes and toiletries. There's nothing in the main compartment, so I check the side pocket.

My hands are hurriedly fumbling at the pocket when I feel something hard inside. It's cold, thin and sleek. I pull it out and realize it's his MP3 player. I power it on and scroll through the menu's, excited to have all of this music at my fingertips—most of it music that we both like. I come across the playlists. "For Jenni," one reads.

My phone buzzes again. " _Hello....?"_ reads his text. I realize he's probably wondered why I haven't yet responded.

" _Sorry, I just found it. Thank you_!" I write back quickly.

A minute later my phone buzzes again. " _Look at the back,"_ he writes.

I turn it over and see there is an inscription in the metal piece, but it is in Swedish. " _Ödet leder den villige och släpar den motvillige_." I can't even pronounce half of the words in the engraving, let alone understand them.

" _What does it mean?"_ I write back.

Another text pops up. " _Fate leads the willing and drags the unwilling_."

CHAPTER 71

The following week moves at a snail's pace. I'm doing my best not to appear depressed or agitated, but it's been challenging. On Wednesday night I leave Joe at the house to have his dinner date with Olivia and I head to Astrid's. I need her guidance on what to do next.

For the first half an hour we talk about Michael leaving. She tells me the images she saw of him going. She is spot on. When she asks about him proclaiming something to me, I hand her the letter.

When she's finished reading, she looks at me sadly and a tear runs down her cheek. "I have read a lot of love stories in my time, but never one so real. I'm very sorry that he's gone," she says sympathetically.

She then reaches down beside her foot and grabs a roll of yarn from a basket and begins to knit. "Sorry," she says. "I do this when I need to calm myself down. I can't fix anything for you right now and that frustrates me," she explains.

"I know," I say. I reach over and gently touch the soft, purple yarn. "What are you making?" I ask.

"Oh, just a scarf. I make booties and hats, too. Let me show you," she says, getting up off the couch.

I follow her to her spare room, which is full of boxes of books and a desk with more yarn and knitting tools piled on top of it. She reaches into a box and starts pulling out bundles of finished scarves and hats.

I laugh. "Wow, Astrid, there are tons of things here."

"I made all of this since I met you. I actually hadn't knitted in years until you came along," she says chuckling. I look at her, surprised.

"Well, you have been a bit of a frustrating client," she jokes.

I understand what she means. She hasn't been able to offer me any solutions. Her nature is to help people, to guide them. And without being able to clearly see much about me, she's felt agitated and useless. Apparently very much so, according to the twenty plus scarves and dozens of hats.

"I'm sorry," I say with remorse.

"How is this your fault, dear? It's not like you did this. You are going through this. I'm just the lousy psychic," she says, making fun of herself. We both laugh. I again feel safe, sheltered and understood.

Her phone rings, startling us out of our pity party. "It's John!" Astrid exclaims and runs from the room. I quickly follow her into the kitchen, where she picks up the phone.

"Hi, John," she says urgently. She listens, and looks at me in a way that confirms it's him. My heart begins pounding quickly. Every call from him matters. Every bit of news is an offering of hope and a possible answer.

"OK. Uh, huh. OK....and where is this?" she asks him. I remain still, while trying to listen in on what he's saying, but my heart's thumping so loudly that I can hear nothing else but my pulse.

"OK, sounds good. Talk to you then," she says, hanging up. I stare at her, eager to hear the details. Astrid stares at the ground for a moment, saying nothing about the conversation. Suddenly her eyes meet mine and the stoic expression on her face melts away and is replaced with a look of optimism.

"John's coming back next month....and he thinks he has the answer."
CHAPTER 72

The weekend finally approaches and it's my turn to take Olivia. I'm grateful for this, as we'll be able to relax and I won't be under any pressure to put on a happy face for anyone. I've received one email from Michael since his return to Sweden. He wanted to thank me again for spending time with him and assure me that he wants to stay in touch.

Sadly, these are not the words I want to hear. I want him to say that he wants to be with me, that he wants to come back. I want to hear more of what he wrote in his letter. Every bone in my body resists the current situation. It feels unnatural and I'm restless as a result.

On Saturday afternoon I decide to take Olivia to the movies. I figure a couple hours of confining myself in a room with entertainment, where I have to shut off my cell phone and have no access to internet, is a good thing and the best way to avoid feeling disappointed from his lack of contact.

When the movie is over, we pick up dinner to eat at home. Olivia is the perfect distraction from my blue mood. She is smiley and happy and showering me with affection, which is difficult not to relish in.

After dinner Olivia wants to play outside. When she brings out the big pink ball that Michael gave her, my heart sinks, but I shake it off. The sun is setting in the west, so I know it is preparing to rise in the east....where Michael is.

I imagine him asleep somewhere—dreaming, unaware of me and my sadness over his absence. I see him, eyes closed, shirt off, sleeping on his stomach, his strong arms peeking out from beneath the sheets. Light freckles gracing the tops of his shoulders. Morning light sweeping across his face. I wonder what he will do when he wakes up. Where he will go, who he will be with. Will he think of me?

Olivia kicks the ball back and forth with me while I'm distracted by my thoughts. She doesn't seem to notice. After a half an hour, I take her in and bathe her. At 8:00 p.m. she passes out on the couch while watching cartoons. I carefully carry her to her room and tuck her into bed.

The house is quiet, the night is still. I take a blanket from the couch and sit outside to watch the sun fade away. I find it strange how fast life goes by. How a moment is literally a flash in time. It was only one week ago that I was with Michael. We were enjoying ourselves on a night just like this one. Having our first kiss. And tonight he feels farther away than ever before.

When stars start to appear in the night sky I decide to head inside and get ready for an early bedtime. What's the point of staying up and exhausting myself further with this mental and emotional anguish anyway?

After locking up the house, I quietly make my way to the bathroom. I hear a soft clicking sound and realize I've left my laptop on, so I head over to the table to shut it off. The screen has gone to sleep after being dormant for so many hours. I hit the spacebar to awaken it.

I'm surprised when I see a flashing window minimized on the taskbar. I open my instant messenger program and almost yell with excitement. Michael wrote me a message sometime while we were away at the movies.

" _Hey? You there?"_ he wrote. Then about ten minutes pass until the next message. _"Well, you must be gone. I just wanted to say hello. Maybe we can talk tomorrow. Bye"._

I deflate. I can't believe I missed this message. WHY??? I'm frustrated with myself for not checking this earlier. But by the time we got home, it would have been 2:00 a.m. his time anyway. I decide I better write back so he knows I received his message.

" _Hi there. I'm so sorry I missed this. I was at the movies and didn't check my computer until now. I'll be around tomorrow. Maybe we can talk then...bye,"_ I write.

I sigh and prepare to shut the computer down when I hear the incoming message chime. Michael has responded. _"Wait!"_ he writes.

I quickly grab the laptop and move to the couch so I can sit and talk to him. " _Hi! I'm here!"_ I write back, then wait to see the messenger indicate that he's typing.

" _Hello! What are you up to?"_ he asks.

" _I was going to bed, but I think I can stay up for a bit_ ," I reply.

For the next two hours we talk over instant messenger. I sit, smiling, with my tired eyes burning, but unwilling to sleep. He explains that he still hasn't turned his hours around and isn't sleeping well and that's why he was up so early. We talk about him arriving back home and how nice it was to see his friends and family. He asks me how work is, how Olivia is doing, and most importantly, when we will see each other again. I pray it will be soon, but logistically, I can't see how.

Even though we're not in the same town, time zone or continent, I'll take what I can get. He is still here in his own way. Reaching out to me, wanting to spend time with me. I'm hopeful this is a sign that something more will come from this.
CHAPTER 73

June comes quickly and work has been busy with preparations for an important tradeshow in England. I'm a little sad because everyone from Marketing is going but me. Instead, I'll be left alone in a quiet office, constantly reminded of what's missing in my life.

On the bright side, Michael and I have been chatting about three times a week, and I'm sure he can preoccupy me. Occasionally he will message me while I'm at work, but with the time difference, and him having to finish school and starting a new summer job, it's been hard to talk. Though we don't get too deep into emotional discussions, we tease each other about what we would do if we were able to hang out together.

He tells me about places he would take me in the city where he lives and the friends he would introduce me to. He talks about Seattle and how he wishes we had more time there. He promises that if he comes back, we'll go there again. Right now all this talk is wishful thinking, but I'm hopeful it will fruition into reality.

Joe and I have finally gotten into a rhythm with Olivia and her schedule. We're getting along well and I see a bounce in his step when we cross paths. I assume it has to do with a new found love interest, but I don't pry, even though the curiosity is killing me to know if it's that Sara girl.

Astrid heard from John, who is preparing for his journey home, which could take some time. I don't know the details, but his travels involve a bus, a train and then a short flight back to Washington. He's also revealed that he's bringing back some supplies and doing his best not to get held up in Customs. This peaks my curiosity, but is the least of my worries right now.

For now the biggest weight upon my shoulders is the time that I feel I'm losing and the progress that isn't being made. Every day I pray that Michael will not forget me. That he will not decide I'm a lost cause and a path not worth travelling.

The odds of a guy his age, with his whole future and world of opportunity at his feet, leaving all of that to come to this small town and be with a divorced single mom are pretty unlikely. Though I have to remind myself, he did take the chance before—didn't he?

I worry that the outcome won't be the same. I'm certain that before he left in my other life we actually solidified our relationship and decided to try the long distance thing. But this time, he left without us deciding on anything. How will I bridge the gap before he gets bored and puts me in the "friend" zone?

In the meantime, I cherish the moments I have with him through our instant message chats. When we're not chatting I occupy my time with Olivia and Stacy. That is, when she isn't busy smooching all over Lewis. They're practically living together now and it's been hard to get any friend time with her. But she's happy and I'm happy for her.

On Friday afternoon, Steve comes out of his office after having a closed door meeting with Roger and Jane. He looks stressed and heads immediately to the Operations department. Seconds later I hear a door close from down the hall. Uh, oh.

Jane and Roger walk back to their desks and quietly sit down, not saying a word. From the awkward glances they give each other, I take it the meeting went sour. I open my instant messenger and message Stacy, who is in her office.

"Hey, did you see that?" I ask.

"Yeah. I could hear their voices and the tone sounded negative," she types.

A few minutes later Steve walks back into the office and tells Jane and Roger they can go to Human Resources if their letters are ready. They quickly get out of their seats, grab pieces of paper from their desk printers and leave the area.

I sit in shock over what's taking place. All I can gather is there's been some sort of discrepancy or issue and they are in trouble.

"Stacy, Jenni, can I speak with you both in my office, please?" Steve asks, before going back to his office.

What if we're being laid off? How the hell will I manage without this job? I'm trying my best to refrain from panicking, and now feeling lightheaded and dizzy. I am freaking scared!

I follow Stacy into Steve's office and sit down next to her. Steve remains seated at his desk across from us. I'm doing my best to keep calm and not show my concern...or sweaty armpits.

"Jane and Roger have just given notice," Steve says, his tone serious.

Stacy and I look at each other in shock. "They have accepted positions at a competing company and they're leaving effective immediately. However, this leaves us in a bit of a jam," he explains.

"We won't have time to train anyone else before our show in England. Stacy, you are already going, but we need two more bodies to help staff the booth," he states, before looking directly me.

"Jenni, I know it's short notice, but would you be willing to come to England for a week?" he asks.

My heart starts to race with excitement. I have to stop myself from shouting with joy like some game show contestant who just won a big prize. "Yes, absolutely," I say, straining to keep my composure.

"But that only covers one person. I don't think there's anyone else here who has the knowledge or is personable enough to fit our needs. Stacy, do you have any recommendations?" he asks her.

Stacy thinks for a minute. I can see the wheels turning in her methodical mind. "How about Michael?" she suggests.

I look at her, surprised. Why would she suggest him? He doesn't even work here anymore. I look at Steve, whose facial expression tells me he's now considering this. After all, it would be cheaper to send Michael from Sweden to England than to fly another person from the US over. Plus, he now has all the product knowledge required and is good with people in the booth.

"I think that might work. Stacy, will you try to contact him and see if he's interested?" he asks her.

I politely interrupt. "Oh, I can do that. We still keep in touch, so I'm happy to," I say, looking to both of them for approval.

Steve gets a slight smirk on his face. I know this face. He can sense that something's up. I try to contain my eagerness and conceal any feelings for Michael that I may have just made known.

"OK, feel free to," Steve replies, smiling knowingly. I quickly get up from the chair preparing to hurry back to my desk to contact Michael.

"Say hello for us," Stacy teases, as I exit. I try to fight my guilty smile, but I can't. They're on to me. Luckily, they don't seem to care. We have no rule against dating within the company, and besides, they're my friends and they want me to be happy.

When reaching my desk, I quickly open my instant messenger. Michael's status is set to "Away". I am hoping he's around. _"Hello, you there?"_ I type. I'm now tapping my foot, waiting impatiently for him to reply.

While I'm waiting, Stacy comes in and talks to me about which flights to book for myself, and how to change her room to a double so we can share. I comply and write it all down, while my nerves jitter through my body. Silently, I'm praying Michael will respond soon and will be able to come to England.

"Come on," I whisper to my computer screen. To keep myself busy, I look up flights between his airport in Sweden and the airport in England. I want to be ready to book his tickets. Fifteen minutes later, Michael finally responds. I quickly relay the invitation and misspell several words in the process of typing my message, thus causing confusion.

After a few minutes of Michael trying to determine his work schedule and worrying if his new boss will allow it, he decides it will be worth it, because in his words, "It's worth getting the chance to see you again."

His message brings a smile to my face and hope to my soul. England or bust!
CHAPTER 74

It's a rainy late June evening when John finally arrives. Though his drive down from Washington was less than three hours, I was so overwhelmed with anticipation that every minute felt like an hour.

"Do you need help carrying anything?" Astrid shouts at him through the rain while he gets out of his mini bus.

I hurry to the door to greet him. I can't get him in the house fast enough. He has every answer I have been waiting for. "Hi, John," I say eagerly when he approaches the front door.

"Hi, Jennifer," he says hustling in, trying to dodge the summer rainstorm.

"Here," he says handing me a small box. "Go ahead and get started, the batteries are new and the tapes are set to the beginning." I'm shaking with excitement. I can FINALLY listen to our sessions.

Astrid looks at me with a giant smile on her face. "Oh, honey, this is wonderful!" she says, elated.

We hurriedly make our way into the house. I find a comfortable spot on the floor amongst oversized floor pillows and yank the tape recorder from the box. I have my new journal next to me, so I'm ready to make comparisons. I take a deep breath as I hold the heavy, cold plastic machine in my hand. This is it.

"Be right there, Jennifer," Astrid calls from the kitchen, where she's making tea for everyone. John sits down in the old armchair across from me and leans forward with his arms on his knees, cradling his face in his palms, indicating he's ready to listen along with me.

Astrid enters the living room carrying three coffee mugs on a tray and sets them down near John and me, before sitting down on the couch. "OK, let's do this!" she exclaims.

With a jump of my heart, I press PLAY. The tape gears begin to turn and the echo-like tape sounds begin to hum.

John: "Jennifer, can you please tell me what season or month it is?"

Me: "It's spring, it's warm. I think it is...it's May."

John: "Do you know what year it is?"

Me: "It's...2006...yes, 2006."

John: "Good, good. And where are you?"

Me: "Um, I'm in a city...there are lights all around in tall buildings."

John: "Do you know the name of the city?"

Me: ".......Seattle."

John: "That's good, very good. And do you know who is with you?"

Me: "A guy...it's....it's.....Michael."

We listen to hours of tape John recorded from our sessions. With each recollection from the tape recorder my body goes through a series of flashes, deja vu's and physical sensations that leave me feeling like I've run a marathon by the time we're finished.

I hear about my trips to Sweden. A trip to England. The moment we decided to get married. The day Michael came to live in the United States. Our wedding day. Telling him I was pregnant. A family photo shoot near a harbor when I was pregnant. The day Stella was born.

Every inkling of familiarity I've felt over the months is confirmed. Memories that I could recall enough to write about were revealed. Every glimpse of my future or what I remember living with Michael appears clearly and is restored to the depth of my core. I remember everything about him, everything about us, everything about what is to be.

When the last tape finishes, we sit in silence, staring at each other. John had already heard these things, but due to the nature of my situation at the time and his inexperience with someone like me, he didn't put too much effort into remembering each detail. And now that he knows Michael really exists, he's even more fascinated.

"These things really happened, Jennifer. The things that you say are supposed to happen in the future, are supposed to happen. I can see it clear as day now," Astrid says, with tears in her eyes. Her affirmation triggers relief and gratitude to surge through me and I'm now on the verge of crying.

"And we need to get you back as soon as possible," she says.
CHAPTER 75

I'm still fascinated by what has just taken place. Hearing all of my memories on the tapes, then Astrid confirming that they're valid, has filled me with hope. I didn't make any of this up. Whether I'm predicting it, or I actually lived it, doesn't matter. My real life is just that—real.

John sits quietly thinking in his chair. "Time is of the essence, Jennifer. And if we go through with this, we have to do this right," he explains.

Astrid looks at him. "But, John, if we wait too long it could throw everything off course," she says anxiously.

John shakes his head in disagreement. "No. She has to go exactly one year to the day she arrived here. And not calendar year, the actual day. If she got here on a Sunday, she leaves on a Sunday. According to the day that Jennifer says she appeared here, we need to do it on July 30th. If she goes any sooner, she could get lost in a paradox. If she goes past that date, she risks closing some...some gap. She MUST go on the right day between 11:59 and midnight," he states firmly.

John's attention turns to me, his normally soft expression is now worn with seriousness. "Jennifer you have to be absolutely sure that you arrived the day you said you did," he stresses.

My heart begins thumping hard, as fear and anxiety whirl inside me. I quickly grab my cell phone from my purse and scroll through the calendar for the previous year. I know for a fact when I arrived, there is no mistake. Now I'm only frightened by the thought of missing my opportunity to go home.

"There are other people's lives at stake too, John," Astrid interjects. I know she's referring to Joe, Olivia and Stella.

"Astrid, I have all of the instructions and I know that if it's not done right she will end up like Jesus," he says firmly.

"Like Jesus?" I ask confused, before laughing nervously. The comical irony is not lost on me that I could end up like the biblical figure, Jesus. Sacrificing myself for the benefit others and possibly resulting in my life being cut short.

"Not like Jesus, like HAY-ZEUS," he pronounces emphatically. My amusement is quickly squelched by concern.

"What happened to him?" I carefully ask John.

He's quiet for a moment while mentally pondering something. "Let me show you," John says, stepping over to his backpack and pulling out a small camcorder. He takes out a few cables and connects them to the side of Astrid's television, and then to the camcorder. He turns her TV on and changes some input function. Then he powers on the camcorder and video appears on the screen within seconds.

Astrid and I move to the couch and sit close together, holding hands. A small dark man appears on the screen. He's sitting on a tree stump. Behind him is a small house. I can see dirt and dust all around it. It's a desolate landscape. John begins to ask questions, which someone else off camera repeats in Spanish to this man, who then responds in Spanish. His reply is then translated back to John in English.

Throughout the interview, it is revealed that this man's brother, Jesus, lost his way in time too. He claimed to be thrown back into another life, just as I had. He was separated from his children and pregnant wife, and forced into another time. He woke up one morning after a night of heavy drinking and went home to find it empty. No sign of his wife or children. Nothing that resembled his life at all. And when he went to the bathroom, he saw his face at the age of eighteen.

At first his brother, the man on the camera, thought Jesus was crazy. When he came to him with this tale he believed Jesus either drank too much or had lost his mind. After a few days of Jesus repeating his story, they went to see a village doctor, a spiritual doctor. At that visit there were details of his story that started to make them question whether Jesus' tale was a lie, a hallucination—or real.

Apparently, there's an ancient belief in their culture that a soul who is indecisive may find itself in limbo, in between two places and thrown through some type of a wormhole, if they're not careful. Turns out, Jesus wasn't the first of his people to have this journey. He and I may also not be the last.

After finally convincing his brother and the doctor that he was telling the truth, the doctor found a special "potion" to send Jesus back to his life with his wife and children.

If it worked, then time would simply freeze where they were and he would be able to continue life in his future. No one would be harmed. No one would be able to recall any of the events, except for Jesus. The past that Jesus went back to would be non-existent.

My jaw drops as he explains how Jesus prepared to travel through the two worlds, back to his real life. How they planned it so carefully, and how Jesus went limp after drinking the serum the doctor had made. At one point in the process they thought that he died.

But Jesus woke up. And when he woke up he was still eighteen. He was confused and scared and told them how he mistakenly made the wrong decision. He spoke of a strange dream-like place, where he was presented with options and if he made the wrong choice, he risked not going back to his life with his wife. Somewhere along the way, he chose incorrectly and therefore woke up again in the past.

Jesus was devastated and depressed, and the more time that passed, the less he engaged in living. He stopped talking about his wife and children. He became quiet and wouldn't speak to anyone. He is now practically mute, with the exception of occasionally saying only one word—" _agua_ "—water. He's now known as the insane man of the village.

Though I couldn't understand what the man on the camera was saying without the translator, I could see emotions of sadness and helplessness sweep across his face. Jesus' brother felt responsible for believing him and encouraging the story when Jesus started to forget details about his real life—just as I did. He blamed himself for not convincing Jesus that it was all a dream and to start his life over. He wanted to take care of him, as he felt that he'd taken his brother's life away by allowing him to see the doctor and go through with the experiment.

I watch the man on camera sigh heavily in contemplation. I can see that he's recalling those memories and feels guilt. A moment later, he stands up and has the camera follow him into the dilapidated house. The house is dark and it's hard to see the rooms as they make their way to a doorway that has a curtain in place of a door.

The man slowly moves the sheer fabric and motions for the camera to come closer and look. As the camera makes its way through the small slit in the curtains, the room becomes light enough to see a figure. There's a mattress on the floor. On the mattress is a small-framed man, sitting with his back to the camera. The weak looking man remains still as he stares out the window, unaware that anyone has entered his room.

Jesus's brother comes into view from the side of the camera and kneels down to place his hand on Jesus' shoulder. Jesus doesn't acknowledge his presence as his brother tells the camera that this is how he sits all day. Jesus' brother has to feed and bathe him. And at night, Jesus' brother has to lay him down and close his eyes so he will sleep. He has been wasting away for almost thirty years—each year getting worse. He knows that eventually Jesus will die.

John stops the tape and sits down across from Astrid and me. We're in disbelief. I look at Astrid who is now obviously worried. "I see it all. As it was being described, I got flashes of this poor man fighting his way back," she says empathetically.

I'm growing scared. This is too much information all at once. This is not what I anticipated. A "magic potion," a test of some sort, the risk of coming back to the same place and then slowly fading away—unable to live either life. What would happen to Olivia? What would happen to me? Is it worth it?

I look to Astrid. "Will I make it if I try?" I ask her, pleadingly.

Her face turns pale as she absorbs my question. "I can't see anything. I envision us attempting it, but then the vision goes black," she gravely replies. "I will have to meditate and try to focus on it more."

"Astrid, you can't see the outcome because her fate hasn't been determined yet. It's up to Jennifer once she goes through the process," John says, making the moment heavier.

"What if I just do it all over, my whole life? I have Michael back in my life again. I can do it if I need to," I quickly suggest.

Astrid shakes her head. "Jennifer, that's too dangerous. If anything goes off course before this deadline, if you don't try to go back, you risk Stella never being born," she says.

She looks down for a minute to think before speaking. "Stella is the child I saw in my dream. She is the baby you were pregnant with. And SHE is meant to be on this earth," she says emphatically.

I feel blood rushing through my head and my heart sinks after hearing this. I can't sacrifice my child. I can't risk her not being here....her not being mine.

I sit down on the couch, overwhelmed by the decision I have to make. There are only two options and the outcomes aren't guaranteed. I could try to proceed in my life with Michael and pray that we end up in the same place, make the same choices and get lucky enough to have the same child. But we have already taken different steps from what we did the first time. That fact creates doubt in me that we'll actually end up together—thus possibly sacrificing Stella's existence. Or, I take the "potion" and pray to God that I cross over and get back to my life where Stella exists and we're all back where we should be.

"What will happen to everyone else if I do this?" I ask, fear beginning to consume me.

"Apparently....nothing. If you make it over, then according to belief, none of this life ever existed. If you're not supposed to be here, then maybe we aren't either. If you don't make it, then our lives continue on in this time. BUT, the effects on your health could be dire if it fails," he firmly explains.

"Jennifer, if you do stay here and don't try to get back to that life, you also risk too much," Astrid counters.

I think about what they've both said and do my best to sort through all of this information to weigh my options. In the end, there's no easy way out of this, but I have to do something.

"Taking a risk is my only option," I reply.
CHAPTER 76

I call in sick to work on Thursday, as I can barely muster up the energy to get dressed, talk to anyone or eat for that matter. My stomach is in knots from the realization that I'm being forced to do something that scares the hell out of me. If the "magical" process doesn't work, not only will I risk losing Stella, but Olivia may lose me. If I don't even attempt the procedure and just hope for the best, then I risk losing Stella—and my life with Michael. I feel like I'm being torn right down the middle and the pain is unbearable.

After a while, I decide that lying in bed and making a mental pros and cons list might be a good idea. But as I get started, I can't think of enough pros and my brain instead fills with thoughts of doom. I close my eyes and try to breathe evenly. Images of my life with Michael emerge in my head. Memories of our life seep in and fill the cracks of my increasingly fragile mind.

I can clearly see the moment that I found out I was pregnant with Stella. I see the moment we went for the sonogram and saw her 3D image on the screen. How we decided on her name. Her first birthday, first Christmas, and first swimming lessons with Michael. Her sweet round face, rosy cheeks, big blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. When I open my eyes, the emotional floodgates open and tears spill from them.

Then I think about Olivia growing up. I remember all of the trips we took, and all of her "firsts." First dance, first day of school, first training bra. Consoling her over fights with friends or boys that didn't like her back. Taking her to school and singing along with the radio together. Slowly becoming her friend, while still maintaining ground as her mother. I imagine her getting older and not having me in her life. What if I miss her sixteenth birthday, her graduation, her wedding? What will she go through by having a shell of a mother?

These thoughts overwhelm me while snippets of my life with Michael, Stella and Olivia race through my mind at the same time. A mother will have to make so many choices in her life. Choices that may never feel fair, but she will have to make them nonetheless.

I have to take the risk and try to get back to all of them. It's possible that it may not work and I may become almost comatose, but Olivia will still have Joe. He has proven time and again to be a good father. He loves her and I know that he will always take care of her.

Trying to recreate my life with Michael is too risky. If we deviate from the path we took before, we might never make a life together. Or if we do and we still don't have Stella, I would never forgive myself. I would forever feel like I sacrificed her, by not taking a chance. I would be lifeless inside regardless.
CHAPTER 77

The weeks have flown by since John's return. In that time, Astrid, John and I have come up with a plan to prepare for my "procedure," as we call it. John will make sure that all of the ingredients are in place and Astrid will continue to meditate and field her intuitive skills. I will enjoy every minute that I have left in this life, which I'm continuously reminding myself to do while on a plane bound for England.

After making my decision to go through with this process, I've decided to let go and live these coming weeks like they're the last I have on earth. I've been spending as much time with Olivia as possible. I often take her out for ice cream or to the movies. I buy her whatever toy she wants and let her sleep with me every night. Of course, I sometimes worry I'm spoiling her, but I have no assurance I'll get to do these things with her again. I figure what's there to lose?

I spend more time with my parents as well. I make sure to have dinner or lunch with them several times a week and give them extra hugs each time we part. Michael and I still talk frequently and we're getting even closer, but my focus has been on my family. I'll get my chance with him soon enough.

Joe has been preoccupied with his personal life as well. Olivia made it known to me that he often talks on the phone to someone after he picks her up from school. She says he smiles a lot during those conversations. I'm still curious as to who the mystery girl is, but since he hasn't let Olivia meet this person I can't even get the details from her.

I quickly try to pull myself together as we prepare to land at Birmingham Airport. Before the seatbelt sign turns on, I grab my makeup bag and toothbrush and freshen up in the tiny airplane bathroom. I can't wait to see Michael. Oddly enough, I feel nervous about his reaction when he sees me again. Even if Michael and I have spent almost a decade together and had many "first time" moments in our other life, I feel like I'm reliving everything as if it's the first time again.

Seeing a younger version of him always puts my current reality into perspective and tends to throw me back into those past moments. The awkward encounters of meeting each other after being absent so long. Determining what type of affection is appropriate. What feelings are safe to express. As nerve-wracking as it is, I sort of like it!

It's another chance for us to fall in love. And I get a reminder of all of the reasons why I fell for him the first time around. I now see so many of the qualities I'd forgotten or overlooked while trying to coordinate our daily lives. It's a chance for us to be free again and get back to the core of who we are together. I will forever be grateful for this epiphany.

When I get back to my seat, Stacy mentions that I look too good for flying when she wakes up from her four hour nap—hair a mess, mouth dry and mascara flakes gracing the skin below her eyes. I just shrug and smile while sitting up straight in my seat, waiting for the plane to touch down.

After landing, I see Steve standing in the gate area while Stacy and I deboard. I'm all smiles and in a hurry to get through Customs and Baggage Claim so we can meet Michael by the rental car station. Coincidentally, his plane was set to arrive thirty minutes before ours, so it works out perfectly.

We get in the Customs line and I do my best to remain calm and not look nervous. I'm giddy with the anticipation of seeing Michael and I can't decide the best way to greet him. We aren't officially a couple, but we're more than friends. From what I remember, at this time in his life, he isn't big into public displays of affection. It's not something that's common in his culture, though I know that later he's much different and couldn't care less. That change is something I personally take credit for.

Within forty five minutes we're out of Customs and into the baggage area. I follow Steve, who knows his way to where we're heading. He's so tall that people tend to move aside and make way for him. He starts to slow down as he approaches someone near a baggage carousel.

"Hey, man! How's it goin'?" he says to someone in front of him, while extending his hand out.

I look around him to try to see who he's talking too. As I peek my head around I see it's Michael. My heart instantly flutters, and I get hot in my face. What is happening to me? I shouldn't have this "school girl" reaction over my own future husband!

Michael glances to his right and sees me standing behind Steve. His smile gets wider and he extends his right arm out for a side hug. I can tell he's trying to keep it casual for Steve's sake, as he wants to remain professional.

I look back to see Stacy approaching us with her rolling suitcase. She gets right to efficiently claiming luggage and quickly finds our bags on the belt. "OK, I think we're all set!" she exclaims, as she counts our bags.

An hour later we finally make it onto the freeway, after getting the rental car. Michael is sitting up front with Steve while Stacy and I sit in the back. She can't bear to watch Steve drive because he's making her nervous, but I'm giggling with amusement as he guns it through roundabouts and maneuvers driving on the opposite side of the road, on the opposite side of the car.

We pull up to our hotel after the short car ride. I'm smiling, as I remember how shabby this hotel is. No matter how many times they claim they have remodeled, there's always a broken toilet seat or leaking faucet that makes the stay that much more amusing.

Stacy and I head to our double room, which consists of two twin-sized beds, a box television and a pants press. Michael is down the hall, and happens to get a nice king-sized bed, as does Steve. We decide the best course of action is to take a two hour nap, shower and get ready, then meet for dinner at the pub down the street.

However, I'm unable to sleep. Stacy is laying in her bed with her eye mask on to shield her eyes from the light, mouth hanging open and snoring. I'm thinking about Michael, who is three rooms down. I'm startled by the sudden buzzing of my cellphone. I had set it to vibrate so as not to wake us. I look at the number and see it is Michael's Swedish cell number.

" _Can't sleep...."_ he writes.

" _Me either,"_ I reply.

" _Want to come over?"_ he invites.

Rather than respond, I choose instead to grab my room key and slip out. I tiptoe past Steve's room and quietly knock on Michael's door. I hear the chain and deadbolt unlock. He smiles when seeing it's me.

"That was quick," he says, letting me in.

I walk over and plop down on the side of his bed. I'm now too wired with excitement to sleep. Michael walks over to me and takes my hand, bringing me up to standing. He pulls me in and embraces me tightly. I take in his familiar scent. It's a cologne that he hasn't worn since before I got pregnant with Stella. When I was pregnant, I used to feel sick when he wore it, so he stopped using it. But now it doesn't seem to bother me in this body. I nuzzle into his chest and savor the moment.

He gently strokes the back of my neck before he pulls back so that I'm facing him, then he kisses me. I can fully breathe. Life is restored once again.
CHAPTER 78

After an hour of reuniting with Michael, I head back to my room to shower and get ready. Stacy hears the door shut as I enter, and sits up from her slumber.

"Hi, where've you been," she sleepily asks.

I shrug and then begin to blush. "Just visiting Michael," I coyly reply. I hear her chuckle while I go into the bathroom.

I hurry with my task, as I don't want Stacy to have to wait too long for me. When I come out, she's already turned on her MP3 player and connected the portable speakers so we have music to listen to while getting ready.

I fight the urge to grab her and hug her from behind as she walks by me. I want to thank her for everything she's done for me, in this life and in my real one. For every moment she spent encouraging, supporting and befriending me. I want to tell her that I'll forever look back and cherish the time we had together. But if I did this, she'd probably think I was crazy...or dying. So I opt to let her pass without acknowledgement.

I sing along to the music while doing my hair and makeup. I'm buzzing with energy from the time I just got to spend alone with Michael. Within an hour both Stacy and I are ready to go. We do a final check to make sure we have our ID's, room keys, money and most importantly, lip gloss.

We make our way to the lobby bar to meet Michael and Steve, as planned. They're already half finished with their pints when we arrive. Michael looks up from his barstool and his eyes meet mine. It's as if we're sharing a secret with a look, and we are.

We walk a half block to the nearby pub. I'm instantly nostalgic upon entering it. I haven't stepped foot in this place in a few years, but it feels like it was literally just yesterday that I sat here and had a few with my friends and Michael. The dark paneled walls and burgundy carpet are welcoming with their antique charm. Old pictures of England and various artifacts adorn the walls. Well-worn, high back chairs and old wooden tables offer a cozy place to eat and drink.

Steve runs into some acquaintances at the bar, who ask us to join them at their table. We gladly accept and make our way to the back, to a table with a large window seat that overlooks the garden. I slide in next to Stacy and Michael quickly claims the spot on my other side.

We order dinner and make small talk with our "tradeshow" friends. Occasionally Michael slips his hand under the table and lightly squeezes my knee, reaffirming his affection for me. Each time he does it, I'm filled with warmth. I love feeling like we are a new item all over again.

Stacy and I enjoy a few too many glasses of wine but clearly we don't have to censor ourselves, as one of the men at our table likes to say the "F" word a lot, so we're in casual company. After dinner we decide to grab a taxi and head down to the clubs in the city center.

The sidewalk is filled with college-aged youth and brides-to-be enjoying their "hen" parties. I hang back and link arms with Stacy as we follow Michael and Steve down the busy walkway until reaching a bar that has dance music blaring out the door.

Though old in appearance the club is large and features a real dance floor, which is already packed. There's a DJ in the corner and strobe lights are illuminating half the room. We make our way straight to the bar, where the bartender is delighted by our American accents and kindly serves us quickly.

Stacy and I make our way to the dance floor and start dancing. Steve and Michael hang back and drink their beers. The two of us have a way of entertaining ourselves without caring what people think, so we enjoy jumping around to an old eighties pop song with the rest of the crowd. Occasionally, I'll glance over and see Michael watching me, smiling at my restored zest for life—a side of me that future Michael hasn't seen in a while.

The fun continues throughout the evening, as we keep drinking to avoid feeling jetlagged. Libations flow as we go club-to-club. We aren't thinking about the next day, when we have to set up for our show. For now, we live in our youth. A time I haven't lived in for years.

It's 2:00 a.m. when we finally decide to call it a night and hit up a pizza cart on the way back to the hotel. Steve and Stacy are walking ahead, making fun of each other's dancing, while Michael and I trail behind, and laugh at them imitating each other.

Even though it's about a twenty minute walk, we don't mind. The weather is decent and we could use the refreshing night air before going to bed. As the night progressed, Michael stopped worrying about what Steve thought and made his way onto the dance floor with me. Even if Steve believed something was going on, he wouldn't care. He didn't the first time. In fact, he supported it and gave his blessing.

Michael stops briefly at a trash can on the sidewalk to throw his pizza scraps away and wipes off his hands before tossing the napkin in the garbage. A moment later he loosely wraps his arm around me and pulls me in closer, while I juggle the task of walking and eating.

"I had a lot of fun tonight. And a lot of fun earlier today," he playfully admits.

"Me too," I reply, slightly grinning.

As we continue walking, I recall the all times we've done this before. In my other life I've had the pleasure of coming to England four times, three of them with Michael. The trips were mostly long days full of exhibiting and business socializing, and even longer nights at various pubs and clubs on the main strip. I have hopes for the same type of trip again. Especially, if it happens to be my last.

I look up at that starry night sky over Birmingham. I will steal these last moments with Michael like a greedy thief. I will sink into this experience with abandon. Even if I get back to my future life, I will never get the chance to live this night or this moment again.
CHAPTER 79

The week passes by faster than I prefer. I had forgotten how taxing this particular show can be, with the eight-hour demonstrations, receptions, dinners and the big party we always throw on the last night. The party is fun, but requires us to work harder than usual, as this hotel isn't able to provide the liquor, snacks or even the ice that we need. This means we have to do the shopping, setup, bartending, hosting and clean up.

Tonight we get to dress up though, and I'm looking forward to it. The men are wearing dress slacks, shirts and ties, and Stacy and I have bought party dresses for the occasion. I'm taken aback by Stacy as she exits the bathroom in her strapless retro style black shift dress and red pumps.

"Pearls or silver necklace," she asks me.

I smile at her impeccable sense of class. "Pearls," I say.

I slip on my black sling back, peep-toe heels and quickly put on my black and white polka dot spaghetti strap dress. It hangs just right on my frame. The ruching in the front conceals any bit of tummy I might have, and the sweetheart neckline accentuates my cleavage appropriately. The thin layer of tulle over the dress adds dimension and character. It's classy, fun and makes me feel feminine.

"I just love that dress on you!" Stacy exclaims. I can only hope to get the same reaction from Michael.

Before we leave, I make a quick call to Joe to check in on Olivia, who should be getting ready to go to daycare. I listen to her tell me how much fun she's having with her dad, and how she made me a present. I fight back tears when hearing her sweet little voice. It makes me long for her to stay that age, but at the same time I ache to hear Stella's voice too.

After hanging up, I do one more make-up and hair check, grab my clutch and put on a smile. As we make our way down the old hotel corridor, Stacy chatters on about Lewis and how much she misses him.

When we turn the corner, I almost smack directly into Michael—who is equally startled.

"Whoa! Sorry!" he says, while placing his hand on his chest. "Steve asked that I come and find you guys. The delivery truck just pulled up," he explains.

"Oh, I'll hurry down there," Stacy says and heads off. This leaves Michael and me alone in the hall. He looks down and takes in what I'm wearing. Surprisingly, I feel nervous.

"You look very nice," he says, smiling. I know that he genuinely means it. Michael doesn't try to flatter people. His compliments are sincere.

"So do you," I reply. He then offers me his arm to link with mine to escort me. I find this uncharacteristically charming, but I accept.

As we get closer, we part ways and get to work on the party. Stacy and I end up staffing the large tables that we've turned into a bar. Michael takes his place as the "networker" he naturally is and makes his way through the hundred or so people who have shown up for free booze. I get to see him occasionally when he stops by to get guests drinks and make sure I'm OK.

After a couple of hours, we open up the bar for self-serve and go out to join everyone else on the small, makeshift dance floor. Michael and I float around the room, making small talk with the guests. Occasionally we touch base and sneak around a corner to steal a kiss, and then return to our separate duties. It's like a well-rehearsed dance, one that we still do in our future life when we're at parties or events. Will we ever do this dance again?

By midnight, most everyone but a few stragglers have left the party. We clean up as fast as possible and head back to our rooms. Stacy is exhausted and hurrying ahead. Steve has already gone to bed and Michael and I slowly shuffle down the hall, drained from an unforgettable and wonderful week.

I've resigned to walking barefoot, as my feet can't handle high heels after standing all day. Michael keeps his pace with mine. He walks so close to me we could trip over each other at any misstep.

"You tired?" he asks in a hushed tone. I am, but I don't want that to stop me from spending the night with him. The last night with him.

"Not enough to sleep," I answer flirtatiously. "I'll be back soon," I tell Michael, leaving him by his door.

I follow Stacy into our room. When I get in there, she's already flopped down on her bed, still dressed, but barefoot. "Goodnight," she says, yawning. Moments later I hear her breathing deeply.

I grab my toothbrush, a change of clothes and my phone, then slip out of the room just as I have each night before. My heart is racing as I quietly make my way back to Michael's room. I lightly tap on the door with my knuckle, seconds later it opens.

"Hi," he says, then immediately proceeds to pull me in and kiss me before the door closes.

I take it all in and embrace the moment. I let go of my fears, reservations and everything that has ever stopped me from being in the moment with Michael in all the years we've been together. This could be it. This could be the last night that I ever get with him and I'm not going to waste it on fear or any other ridiculous thoughts that could take this moment away from me. Tonight I'm jumping in and swimming in it.
CHAPTER 80

I hear rain tapping on the window. It's early, but I can't tell what the time is. I try to turn over, but I'm tangled in the sheets and entangled with Michael's body. I manage to sit up enough to see the clock on the bedside table. It's only 6:30 a.m. We have three hours until we have to get up and get ready to leave. I rest my head back on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. I get lost in the rhythm of his deep, restful breathing. I wonder if he's dreaming, and if so, what he's dreaming about.

I couldn't sleep as well as I'd hoped. Even after a wonderful night at the party and spending the night with Michael, I'm restless with worry. All I can do is stare above at the grayish-white ceiling and mentally search for answers on what to do next. Images from the previous night flash through my head. The gentle way he held me. The way he took his time to kiss me softly. Nothing was rushed, and nothing was left unsaid—verbally or otherwise.

Within twenty-four hours I'll be back in the States. I will prepare to face what could be the end of my life, or a dim continuation of another. Fear and hope battle within me, but I'm not sure which one will win.

I feel Michael's hand brush the side of my face as he turns towards me. "You're awake early," he whispers.

"Can't sleep," I respond, careful not to expose my anguish.

He pulls me into him and I fold instinctively. "What's wrong?" he asks, softly pecking my neck. I shrug, as I'm unable to speak.

He reaches over my body and nudges me, indicating that he wants me to turn over and face him. I know there are things that must be said. I know this is the last chance I may get to tell him how I feel, but I have to be cautious in my approach. I worry that I'll scare him if I say too much. This younger version of Michael is still emotionally naive. He hasn't yet been through the experiences that will challenge and mature him.

I look into his eyes. My husband's eyes. He looks back into mine as if they're unfamiliar and new, but his are the eyes that I used to see every day. The same ones that locked with mine briefly when we kissed hello, goodbye or goodnight. And today may be the last time I ever look into them again. I close my eyes and fight back the tears that are sure to come. I'm grateful for the lack of light in the room so he can't see my emotional struggle.

I place my hand on his cheek. "I need you to listen, OK?" I whisper. His brow instantly furrows with confusion, but he remains still—with his eyes locked on mine. I think back to the first time I met him in my real life. I recall how easy it was to be around him, even though I wasn't interested in pursuing any type of relationship. Within the first few moments that we met, we were naturally comfortable with each other. I just didn't want to give him a chance. I smile a bit when thinking back to how my feelings changed so drastically.

"When you came into my life, you were everything I didn't expect, and you became everything I ever wanted. You were every dream I ever had, every prayer answered. You saved me," I say, pausing to fight back tears.

"Hey..." he gently interrupts.

"Wait...let me finish," I reply, softly placing my finger over his lips. "I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, or the next day or any day, for that matter. And this may not make sense to you, but I just need to say these things in case I don't get a chance to later." Michael reluctantly nods in agreement and waits for me to continue.

"I want you to know that there is no one else in this world that I will EVER feel for in the way I feel about you. I know this seems really sudden considering how long we've known each other, but you need to know this," I explain.

He looks at me in silence. I can see his younger mind struggling to process the seriousness of my words. It's a large proclamation on my part, and I imagine it frightens him in some way. But if I don't make my way back and I drift away, at least he will know how I feel.

"In every part of my soul, I know that we're supposed to be together. I know that we were supposed to find each other, and I believe that I was put on this earth specifically for you...and you for me. We were born separated, by age, time and distance, but managed to find each other anyway. That's miraculous to me," I say, swallowing hard to hold back my tears.

My jaw aches with tension, but I force myself to continue. "No matter what happens, no matter where we end up, I just want you to know, Michael, that I love you. And I can't ever thank you enough for every gift you ever gave me by being a part of my life."

I think of Stella in that moment. I think of how he has been a good step-father to Olivia. I remember all the sacrifices he made to be with me, the life he started with us, and how I selfishly took it for granted. Through all the years that we've been together, I've never been so honest with Michael. It's unfortunate that it took losing him and losing our life, to profess all of this, but I meant it. I take a deep breath and fully exhale. Now there's nothing left unsaid.

Michael remains quiet. I'm beginning to feel self-conscious at his lack of response. I worry that he regrets the time he's spent with me. I am scared that he now thinks I'm crazy or jumping in too soon. Suddenly, he pulls me in close and holds me tight. I'm taken aback by his gesture, but I awkwardly hang on to him, almost suffocating in his embrace.

"I have to tell you something," he says, his head buried in my neck. I pull away in hopes of him revealing his feelings for me. I found him looking down, appearing to be searching for his words. He swallows hard and takes a breath.

"I'm moving," he timidly replies.

"What?" I ask, now confused and disappointed.

He sits up straight and begins to get nervous. "I was offered a job. It's in New Zealand, and I start next month," he admits.

My heart sinks, it breaks, and burns. Blood is rushing to my head and away from my body. If I weren't already lying down, I would probably faint.

Michael can tell I'm in disbelief. "Jen, you have to understand, I didn't think we would get so serious so fast. I didn't think I would get a job offer, but I have a friend who just moved there and he helped me get the position. I would be stupid to pass it up," he says, almost doubtfully. I wonder if he's trying to convince me or himself.

Though moving for a job isn't the worst thing Michael could have told me, the fact that he's taken his life in a different direction from what he did in his life before makes me doubt that we would have ended up together at all. What changed?

I take a deep breath and halfheartedly nod in agreement. He would be a fool to not take this opportunity. He just turned twenty-three years old. His whole life's ahead of him, and now I know it's a life that most likely wouldn't have included me after all. Even though I'm a little heartbroken at the realization that our fate would have been different, I am even more certain that deciding to try and go back is absolutely crucial.

"You would be dumb to pass it up," I concede.

He pleadingly takes my hand. "Please don't be upset with me. Please don't stop speaking to me. I do love you, Jen. I still want you to be a part of my life," he assures me.

His life. He has no idea what his life actually was almost a year ago. There have been so many instances where the distance between us was physically vast during our relationship. Yet now, in this moment, it's painfully obvious that even though we still managed to find each other, and once again proclaimed feelings for each other, we aren't just hours and miles apart anymore. We are literally an entire realm away. The gap must be closed.

I place my hands on both sides of his face, lean in and gently kiss his forehead. "I'm always going to be a part of your life."
CHAPTER 81

I'm more than exhausted when I finally get home from England. The flight home was long and no amount of little liquor bottles could get me to sleep. It's after 11:00 p.m. when I walk into the house. I am grateful that Joe's asleep in the spare bedroom and Olivia is passed out in her own bed, as I'm in no shape to be social.

I gently kiss her goodnight so as not to wake her and tiptoe back to my bedroom to go to bed. I don't even care about brushing my teeth or washing my face. All I want to do is slip under my sheets, forget all of this heartache and let it go.

After closing my eyes, I keep seeing Michael and the sad look on his face as we parted ways at the airport. I recall the feeling of his breath on my neck as he whispered that he loved me one last time. My young love, so ignorant to the reality of my current life. Sweet and innocent and untouched by hard choices. Unaware of our lost life together that may never come to be.

There's only one week left until I do the "procedure." I feel like there's so much to do, as if I'm moving or taking a long, dangerous trip. But what can I do? I can't prepare a will, or pack, or stop the mail. I can only worry about Olivia. What if I don't make it over to the other side and I slip away mentally? I haven't given Joe any clue as to what's about to happen. It's now occurring to me that I owe him that. But how? How do I present this information to him? How do I tell him goodbye without saying goodbye?

All this time I've been thinking about myself and what happens if this does or doesn't work, but the one person I really haven't considered is Joe. If it does work, I wouldn't have told him "thank you." Even though he won't remember if I do. I have to keep in mind that when I get back to my real life, Joe and I won't be the way we are now. We don't even speak much in my other life. And now that I know him in this way, I'm sad that I'll lose that relationship. I'm sad that Olivia will be caught in the middle again.

If I don't get back, I still want him know how much I appreciate everything he's done for us—done for me. I want him to know that I care. And I need to know that he will take care of Olivia and make sure she remembers good things about me and how much I loved her.

"Screw it," I whisper loudly, sitting up in bed. It's going to be a long night. There will be no rest for me. I flip on the bedside lamp and grab a piece of paper and pencil from the nightstand drawer. I try to think of what to write and what approach to take, but end up doodling circles instead—a perfect representation of my life.

After thirty minutes of hesitation, I finally jot down the things I think are important, like bank account numbers and authorization for my mother to withdraw those funds if I'm incapable of caring for myself. I write my parents letters filled with words of gratitude and love.

Then I write Olivia a letter. I tell her how much I love her and that I'll ALWAYS love her. And if someday I should disappear and be unable to tell her myself, to know that I carry that love within me. I find a picture of the two of us that was taken at Christmas and place it in the letter. I tell her to always remember the feeling of that moment, of her sitting on my lap with my arms wrapped around her, happy and smiling at the camera.

Finally, I write Joe. I tell him how thankful I am that we've become friends and raised a wonderful daughter together. I tell him that he's a great father and to always let Olivia know how much I love her. And last, I tell him to find his true love and enjoy every minute of the time he has with her.

I seal each envelop with the names boldly scribbled on the outside and tuck them in the drawer in the nightstand. I remind myself to leave them on the dining table before going to Astrid's on Sunday. And then I pray that they will never have to be opened.
CHAPTER 82

It's a rough start to the morning, as I only manage to get three hours of sleep before Olivia runs to my room and smothers me with hugs and kisses. Joe wakes up shortly after that and kindly makes coffee before redirecting Olivia to the kitchen for breakfast so I can sleep in.

After lying in bed for thirty more minutes, I force myself to get up and into the shower. All of the nerves and anxiety I felt the night before have awakened inside and are ready to play with my head again.

Once I'm somewhat ready, I shuffle to the living room, kiss Olivia on the head while she eats and get myself some coffee. I notice Joe in the backyard getting out the lawn mower to cut the grass I've let overgrow.

I watch him as he moves methodically in rows until he's satisfied with the job. He puts the mower away, waters the grass and flowers and heads back inside.

"I should take off," he says, stepping into the house.

"Oh, OK. Thanks for taking care of that," I reply.

He nods and lets out an "mmm hmm."

"Hey, do you think we could get together later this week and talk?" I ask him.

He pauses for a minute. I can tell by his body language this request stresses him. He probably thinks it's more divorce talk, and that tends to put him on guard.

"What about?" he asks.

"Don't worry, nothing major. I just wanted to go over a few things," I reassure him.

He sighs. "OK, how about Wednesday after work?" he suggests.

We agree and he departs a few minutes later, leaving me and Olivia alone together. I watch from the kitchen as she sits on her knees on the couch, enthralled by her television show. I study her round little face, perfect rosebud lips and big blue eyes. She will only get prettier with age. And by the time she's in middle school, she will almost be taller than me. We will start sharing clothes at age twelve. Even though she'll be in her "tween" phase, she will occasionally cuddle with me, letting me know that she's still my baby. But today, at age five, she doesn't know these things. Olivia has no concept of the relationship and life that we have somewhere else. Just like all the other people I love.

I put my coffee cup down and walk over to her. I sit down beside her and wrap my arms around her. She willingly moves into my lap and places her arm across me. "I love you, Mama," she says. I close my eyes and take it all in. Her scent, her warmth, the weight of her small body.

I look down at her and notice she is looking up at me, smiling. "I love you too, baby," I respond. I see the depth in her eyes, the sweet soul behind them. I think of Stella, who may never be. I squeeze her again tightly and close my eyes. And I love you too, Stella....wherever you are.

Hours later I get enough energy to tidy up the house, unpack and start laundry. Olivia plays in the back yard with bubbles and her big pink ball. The house is quiet, which I prefer as I complete my mundane tasks. My senses are over-heightened as I make my way through the day. Every time I eat something, I smell it, and try to enjoy the taste—savoring what could be the last time I smell or eat that particular food.

Though I'm not dying, there's a sense of finality looming over me. If I make it over to my old life, I will of course do all of these types of chores again and experience the same tastes and scents, I just won't be here again. I won't be in this house again. Olivia won't be five. I won't be in this body the way it is now again. If I don't make it back and I end up like Jesus, none of that will matter anyway. Everything will have lost its taste, scent, and possibly, its meaning.

In the evening I make my rounds to both of my parents' houses. I do my best to act normal and not succumb to the somber undercurrent that I'm suppressing inside. I must be doing a good job because they're happy to see me and want to hear all about my trip.

I head back home around 8:00 p.m. and put Olivia to bed. I'm extremely tired, but my mind is very busy trying to sort out what to do for the rest of the week. I contemplate calling in sick the next day, or for the whole week for that matter, but I know I'll get restless if I have too much time on my hands.

After I finish getting ready for bed and locking up the house I flip on my laptop. I prop myself on pillows in the middle of my bed and start to check my email. I hear the chime of an instant message. _"Hey,"_ Michael types. I check the time on the laptop. It's 6:00 a.m. his time.

" _Hi,"_ I respond. _"You're up early."_

" _I just got off the night shift at work. I am about to go to bed,"_ he writes.

" _Oh. I'm just about to as well,"_ I respond.

" _I was hoping you would be online,"_ he writes. _"I just wanted to tell you something. I didn't really respond when we talked in England. I didn't know what to say at the time. But what I should have said is I have never met a girl, or a human being as sincere as you. What touched me the most is that I have never seen a person cry because I left them. I've seen sad faces but I've never seen tears, and I've never seen tears shed out of pure love, like I did then. And the other day you showed me that I'm more loved than I've ever felt before in my life by another person. What saddens me, however, is the inevitable fact that we have a distance between us. The distance itself is fine by me, but the time between the times that I get to see you is what makes me sad. On the other hand, I know I can wait for you. I know I want to and I know I will if you want me to. But I'm scared that you will change your mind. I will understand if you do, but it will hurt. But most importantly, I want to tell you thank you for loving me. Because I love you back."_

I sit in silence for a moment, reading his words over and over again. It's everything I needed from him. It validates that we truly have a connection, and are meant to be together in any scenario.

I have one week until I make my departure from this place. This morning I was emotionally dragging my feet preparing for the journey. Now I want to break into a sprint.
CHAPTER 83

I've mentally, physically and emotionally accepted that this may be it. This may be the last week that I'll be here in this time. I have prepared myself for the fact that if I get back home, relationships will be different. People will be different.

I won't know Mary any longer. My grandparents will have passed away and Nancy will be alive. Joe will be in Idaho with his new family and we won't be friends anymore. At any moment, you can make a small decision that changes everything. Sometimes you might still end up where you were going in the first place, and other times you might not. Any step in a different direction might not only lead you to a different destination, but also force someone else towards another one. All of this reminds me how fragile life can be, and how we're all connected.

Though I'm scared about what will take place during the process of trying to cross over, I'm more terrified by the thought of not making it. Therefore, I am determined to fight and push until I get to where I belong.

Tonight is the night I'm supposed to talk with Joe. Though I've mentally gone over and over in my mind what I want to tell him, I know that it will not be taken lightly. Besides Astrid and John, Joe is the only other person I'll have told the truth to about how I got here and what I believe is my real life.

I begin shaking with nerves when hearing his truck pull in the driveway. He hesitantly agreed to take Olivia to his parents to have dinner with them so we could talk in private. I'm certain he's worried this will be a discussion about selling the house, child support or custody. Maybe the truth will actually be a relief for him...but that's doubtful.

I sit in silence waiting for him to knock on the door. "Come in," I call out when he finally does.

He opens the door and glances around the room, until he sees me on the couch. "Hi," he says.

My palms are beginning to sweat and I'm now having a hard time concealing my anxiety. "Can you sit, please?" I nervously ask.

He frowns slightly, curious at my behavior, but complies and sits in the armchair nearby. "Everything OK?" he asks, concerned.

I clear my throat. "Hold on," I say. I get up and go to the fridge, grab a beer, pop the top, take a swig and then bring the bottle out to the living room.

"Here. You're going to want this," I say, handing it to him. He awkwardly takes it and watches me sit down.

I swallow the knot in my throat and take a deep breath. "I know what I'm about to tell you will sound absolutely crazy," I carefully disclaim. "But I need to let you know that on Sunday something is going to happen that will change everything."

Joe stares at me, beer in hand and lips slightly parted, wanting to speak but unsure of what to say. "I'm leaving," I say.

Joe shakes his head. "What do you mean?" he asks, clearly confused.

"Well, I may be leaving. I'm going to try to leave, but something may go wrong, and then it will be bad, and you'll need to take care of Olivia," I nervously spill out.

Joe's jaw drops a bit. He thinks I'm losing it. I collect myself and try to slow down and explain it better. I move closer to him and place my hand on his knee. I look into his eyes in hopes that he'll see I'm telling the truth.

"Joe...almost a year ago I woke up...and I wasn't in my life," I slowly begin.

"Oh, seriously!" he exclaims, jumping up to a stand. "Are we going to get into this crap? Jenni, we're already divorced!" He looks at me angrily, then turns away.

I shake my head. "No, no, that's not what I'm trying to explain," I reply. "Please, Joe, let me finish," I plead.

A moment later, he hesitantly turns around. I can tell that he doesn't want to stay, but will hear me out. He takes a drink of the beer and sits back down. I decide to try a different approach.

"The day that I passed out, I was in shock because I woke up next to you. But the night before I was somewhere else. I came from a life where I was remarried and had another daughter and Olivia was older. I was also in the year 2013," I confess.

"OK, now you are really freaking me out," he interrupts, looking nervous. "Are you on drugs?" he asks, intently searching my face with his eyes.

"Damn it, please listen!" I shout, clenching my fists and holding back tears of frustration.

Joe notices my hands are trembling. "OK," he reluctantly complies. He believes he needs to keep me calm. He's afraid I'm having some sort of episode again.

I now realize I can't tell him anything more. He isn't going to believe me anyway. I don't know how to change this up so that he gets it. I hang my head in my hands. I'm slightly bouncing my legs while trying to think of a solution, and now wishing I hadn't said anything at all.

"I need you to go with me somewhere," I say quickly.

He shakes his head. "Jen, I don't think that's a good idea. I think we should stay here until you're calm," he states firmly, but clearly worried.

"No. Please listen. It won't take long. It will help me explain this better," I beg him again.

He sits quietly for a moment, contemplating my request. Then he nods in agreement. "OK, but I'm driving."

I hurry to his truck and wait for him, but he's slow to get in. I know he's trying to make sense of my behavior, but he won't be able to. Nothing about this situation is logical.

When he finally gets in the truck, I give him directions on where to go. On the drive, he keeps asking where I'm taking him, but I just reply with, "you'll see."

It only takes ten minutes until we pull into Astrid's driveway. Before I even knock, she opens the door. I'm about to give her an explanation, but she raises her hand up to stop me and looks past me at Joe, who hesitates behind me.

"You must be Joe," she says warmly. I now realize she knew we were coming. "Come in, please," she says politely. She catches my eyes with hers and reassuringly smiles.

"Thank you," he says and follows her inside. After walking in, he looks around the room to take in his surroundings. I can tell he's feeling out of place and wants an explanation, when he looks back at me with questioning eyes.

Astrid gestures for us to sit down in the living room. She sits across from us silently. She closes her eyes for a minute and takes a deep breath. Joe watches her in bewilderment. I know she's visualizing. A moment later she opens her eyes and smiles at Joe. I can see his body relax a bit. Astrid has a way of calming a space. I'm confident that I made the right decision bringing him here.

"Joe, would you like to come with me for a moment?" she asks.

He looks at me. "It's OK," I assure him.

He lets out a lightly stubborn sigh and follows Astrid into her reading room down the hall. I remain still and struggle to hear what they're saying. Unfortunately for me, her window air conditioner is drowning out their voices, so I opt to sit in silence and pick at my nail polish. After an hour I decide to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water. I take my time getting the glass, ice cubes and then water from the tap. I stare out her back door and admire Astrid's lavish garden. She has no shortage of talents.

As I return to the living room, Joe enters at the same time. His shoulders are slightly slouched. He looks exhausted, confused and stunned, all at once. Astrid follows in behind him. She and I make brief eye contact before she gives me a nod, indicating that he'll listen now.

"I'll leave you two alone," she says, as she heads toward the kitchen. Moments later I hear the back door of her house shut.

I sit down on the couch again. Joe seems as if he's still trying to comprehend what just took place with Astrid. He finally slumps his thin frame into the armchair and rubs his dark hair for a moment, as if trying to sooth his brain.

After a few minutes he looks up at me. "OK, tell me," he says defeated.

For the next hour I carefully tell Joe my story. He listens intently as I describe waking up and finding myself with him and Olivia and apart from my life and family that were eight years in the future. I tell him I thought I was crazy and even went to see my therapist, but that she wasn't helpful. How I searched for Michael and found nothing. I divulge that I decided to see Astrid when I got desperate, and how she and John believed me and tried to help. And finally, I tell him that the day I passed out at work was the day I met Michael again, and what took place after seeing him.

I tell him how I couldn't remember everything about my other life until John came back with the tapes and I heard my sessions. And once that happened, my memory was fully restored, and so were my emotional ties. I promise him that I was never unfaithful before we broke up. I explain that I tried to make our life work, but I didn't feel it was right. I assure him the only reason I was quick to end it with him was because of Astrid. She knew that he had another life and a true love out there too. She didn't feel it was right to prevent him from getting that, even if I didn't.

When finished, I sit quietly and allow him to digest everything I've just told him. Joe's been gracious enough to listen without interrupting me, I at least owe him the courtesy of getting a chance to think before he responds. Joe's eyes look up and meet mine. "She was right," he says, his voice breaking.

My eyes get wide. "She was?" I curiously ask.

Joe gets a slight smile on his face. There's something he isn't telling me. He moves from the armchair and sits next to me. He's nervous, but grinning.

"I believe you," he admits. "I believe you because she knew something that no one else knows."

I look at him inquisitively. His smile widens. "Jen, I'm in love," he reveals.

I laugh with relief. "Oh, Joe," I say, gently touching the side of his face. "That's wonderful."

"There's more," he says, meeting my eyes. He takes a minute to tell me. "She's pregnant," he nervously replies. I'm stunned and begin to cry. Joe quickly moves in to console me, thinking I'm upset.

"No, Joe, I'm happy for you," I gratefully cry. I take a deep breath and wipe my tears away. "Can I just ask you a question?" I request through sniffles. Joe nods.

"Who the hell is this girl?" I say laughing again, and wiping away tears. He looks down and laughs shyly.

"Oh, uh....it's Rachel," he apprehensively admits. Without thinking I dive and hug him. I'm holding him so tight that he's almost falling over.

"Whoa, whoa!" he says bracing himself. "You're not mad?" he asks, surprised by my reaction. I look at him for a minute and study his face. He is also so young and innocent in this situation. Joe isn't a bad or spiteful person. He's just another human being trying to survive and be happy in this game of life. He deserves this happiness and he deserves me being happy for him.

"Absolutely not," I reply.
CHAPTER 84

After leaving Astrid's, we head out to Joe's parents' to pick up Olivia. On the way he has several more questions about the past year. I obligingly tell him anything he wants to know. Now that the weight of our past relationship and the roles we played in each other's lives are no longer in the way, I feel that I can finally let go. Joe has been put on the same playing field that I've been alone on for so long.

Joe admits he thought I was losing my mind earlier. He explains that he was extremely doubtful of Astrid's ability until she told him she knew he was in love with a girl with the initial " _R_ " and that she saw him holding a new baby. There were also other details about their relationship that she couldn't have known or guessed. He said it was like his mind flipped upside down, along with the rest of his world. He suddenly saw everything differently. He was frightened, but reassured at the same time. I'm grateful he's accepted this situation so quickly and believes me now.

Astrid let us leave with John's videotape of Jesus. She knew I would want to show it to Joe to explain that I wasn't the only one with this experience. She invited him to come on Sunday as well, but he still doesn't fully understand what that will entail. I'll have to explain that later when the time is right.

As we make our way through the winding hillside streets, I sit back and roll down the window. I close my eyes and let the evening summer air tousle my hair, while the setting sun caresses my skin with its last few warm rays.

Joe makes the pick-up with Olivia quick and I wait in the car. On the way back to the house, Olivia is happy to see us getting along again, so much that he begs Joe to stay the night. He agrees, as he still has a pair of clothes at the house and I don't mind. We share the moment as a family, singing along to the radio while making our way to a home that won't be mine much longer. There's truly no animosity or strings attached. Joe is in love and going to be a dad again. I'm reconnected with Michael and soon will be on a journey back to my other life. This is not something normally celebrated, but in our unconventional way we're doing just that.

"Will Rachel be OK with you staying over?" I ask.

"Trust me, she knows that I'm very committed to her," he assures me with a smile.

I think about how strange it is that this isn't weird for me. When I look at Joe, I don't see my ex-husband, or feel any romantic ties. I see Olivia's dad and the familiar face of an old friend. I have respect for the life that he gets to live with Rachel and only hope that it's as full of love as Michael's and mine was, and hopefully will continue to be.

After Olivia goes to bed, Joe and I grab a couple of beers from the fridge and head out to the back patio. The night is cool, but tolerable. The sun has set and I can only make out the silhouettes of the mountains in the distance. It reminds me of the night we had our anniversary barbecue. That feels like decades ago now.

"What are we like, in your other life?" Joe asks me out of the blue.

I gulp down my mouth full of ale and sit quietly for a moment, thinking of how to respond. The truth is sad. We don't really speak. We mostly communicate through his parents, and sometimes Rachel sends me an email to coordinate visits with Olivia, but other than that our contact is minimal.

"Well, we don't really talk," I answer truthfully.

"We don't? Why?" he asks, surprised by my reply.

I shrug. "You know, I honestly don't remember," I chuckle. "I guess we just put up walls so thick and high between us that we didn't see the point of breaking through them."

"Hmmm. Well, I hope that changes," he says, then takes another swig of beer. I feel a pang of sadness. I now see what we could have been had we taken a more mature approach to our split from the beginning. Olivia wouldn't have been caught in the middle, and we may have been some kind of family unit like we are now. It won't be the same between us if I return, and that's disheartening. If I do get back, none of this will have ever happened. This will just be a memory that no one else but me will recall. I wonder if I'll feel the same way I did as when I arrived here—lost and out of place.

"So, exactly how will you get back?" he inquires.

I consider my answer, which is that I really don't know. Like some crazy science fiction movie, I'm supposed to take a serum and hope it knocks me into a dimension that leads me back to the right time and place. Joe has a hard time understanding my explanation, but tries the best he can. He then asks what will happen if I do make it back. I tell him that we believe everything will just stop in this time, like a book that doesn't get finished or a movie that's put on pause and never played again. No one will be harmed, or affected or remember anything. No one but possibly me.

"What happens if it doesn't work?" he asks, more seriously.

I finish my beer. "I'll have to show you," I answer.

We make our way to the living room and I get out our camcorder so I can play the tape. Joe helps me connect it and set the television to the right mode. My heart begins to race as we sit down and press Play.

Joe listens, fascinated by Jesus' tale. He's sitting upright, completely absorbed in what Jesus' brother says. I stand leaning against the wall, watching Joe's reactions to the film. In the moment the camera gets a view of Jesus on the mattress, I see his expression drastically change. He looks at me with wide eyes.

"What happened to him?" he asks.

I shrug. "They aren't sure," I reply.

When the tape ends Joe gets up and walks over to turn off the TV. He's silent and seems overwhelmed again. His head is down and his hands are on his hips. He's deep in thought. "You can't do this," he says to me. "It's too dangerous."

"I have to," I say, tears welling in my eyes. "I want to go home."
CHAPTER 85

At the end of Friday's workday, I make sure to tell everyone to have a good weekend, but really I'm saying goodbye. Stacy is going to the coast with Lewis, so before she heads out the door I stop her and give her a hug, which catches her a little off guard. "Have the best time," I say.

She returns the embrace, but gives me a long look deep into my eyes before leaving. I can tell she's wondering what's been up with my mood the last few days. I've been more laid back about work stuff, and more interested in reminiscing and visiting. Even when Steve half-joked that I needed to get back to work, I just laughed it off. What difference will it make if I just screw around at work anyway?

The building is almost empty when it's time for me to go home. I take my time walking around and shutting off lights. I have a flashback to all of the silly times I had in this department. I smile at the thought of Michael and me joking around during work when we first were friends. I miss those days.

After getting in my car, I head to my mom's house. I bought flowers on my lunch break that I want to give her. She isn't home when I arrive, so I leave them and the card inside her entry for her to find when she gets back. My next stop is Astrid's. I pull into her driveway around 5:30 p.m. She calls out for me to let myself in after I knock on the front door. I quickly find her in the kitchen cooking something that smells delicious.

"Hey there," I say, when entering.

"Hi, honey. To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asks, while stirring some sort of liquid in a big pot.

"I just wanted to get a chance to visit with you in private before Sunday," I say.

Her face lights up. "Aww, that's a lovely thought," she remarks. She puts the ladle down and wipes her hand on a dish towel. "Want to sit outside?" she asks.

I agree and follow her out to the small bistro table in the back yard. The temperature outside is mild, so we can enjoy the solace of her little garden without getting overheated. I can smell a hint of lavender and other herbs in the air. Even with the buzzing of traffic on the busy road so nearby, I feel at peace here.

"I have something for you," I tell her, while reaching inside my purse.

"Oh, that's sweet," she replies. I then pull out a small bundle of tissue paper and hand her the gift I purchased earlier in the day. She's surprised by my gesture and gingerly takes it from my hand. Astrid is careful as she opens the tiny package. When she finally exposes the gift, her eyes soften.

"It's beautiful," Astrid says tenderly. She lifts from the tissue the silver necklace chain from which a small pair of silver angel wings hang.

"You've been like a guardian angel throughout this whole thing, Astrid. I wanted to make sure you had a pair of wings that everyone could see," I say.

I can tell she's touched by the gift, as she is silent but smiling while carefully inspecting the necklace. "Can you help me put it on?" she asks. I stand up and move behind her. She lifts her long, thick, grey hair away from her neck so I can lock the clasp.

"Perfect. Thank you," she says, while caressing the tiny wings with her fingertips.

I return to my chair across from her and we sit in silence. She reminds me of my friend Kelly. She and I can sit quietly and not be uncomfortable. It's like being with a close family member. It's just easy.

"I have a son," Astrid abruptly declares.

I quickly turn my head and look square at her. "You do?" I ask perplexed.

I instantly feel guilty for not know this. In truth, I barely know anything about Astrid's personal life. Was she ever married? Does she have a boyfriend? She knows almost everything important about me. I don't even know the very basics about her. It now occurs to me that I haven't been a very good friend to her, and she's been the best friend anyone could have asked for in this kind of situation.

"Well, I had a son. He died three years ago from cancer," she shares. My heart drops in my chest. I don't know what to say. I can't imagine the loss of a child. I feel horrible that she had to endure that. No one ever should.

"I'm so sorry, Astrid," I say.

She shrugs. "Oh, it's alright. I've made peace with it. It was so hard to see him in pain, and when he went I was just grateful that he wasn't suffering anymore. The worst part, though, is that if it would have been caught early on, it might have been completely curable," she says, and heavily sighs.

I wonder to myself for a moment if she knew he was sick before he did. Did she see the illness inside of him? Did she sense it? "I know what you must be thinking. Did I know he was ill?" she says. I catch my breath, as I'm a little put off by her practically reading my mind.

"I didn't. He was like you—hard to read. And he kept his distance from me. I didn't know he was sick until he told me about it. When I finally got to see him in person, I knew it was grave," she explains.

"I think about you. I think about how you had this chance to come back in time. I wonder if I will ever be so lucky. I wish I could see him just once more," she says wistfully.

I again think about how I've again taken so many things for granted while being here. My chance to see Olivia as a little girl again. My parents at a younger age. My friends and other family members. Astrid slowly lifts her head and makes eye contact.

"Enjoy it while you can, sweetie," she says.

I know what she means. Regardless of what life I'm living, what decade, what year, it's all going to be the past at some point. It will all be intangible and at best a memory. I stand up and move to Astrid's side. "I'll see you Sunday," I say. I then give her a quick peck atop her head and squeeze her shoulder before walking away. There's only a few moments left in this version of my life, and I need to enjoy them.
CHAPTER 86

On Sunday morning, I awaken to a ray of sunlight shining directly on my face. I squint a little to adjust my eyes before fully opening them. Today is the day.

I look to my right and see that Olivia's still sleeping next to me. Exhausted from swimming and going to the fair the day before, she's now curled up on her side, blankets tucked under her chin. I lean over and gently stroke her hair, before giving her a light kiss on the side of her head and snuggling up behind her. I hold my darling daughter while she dreams. She's blissfully unaware that this may be the last time I get to embrace her like this. I'm painfully aware of it.

My phone startles me when it rings from the nightstand. I hurriedly reach to answer before it wakes Olivia. "Hello?" I answer, in a hushed voice.

"Hi, love," Kelly replies. I smile, as I haven't heard from her in a long time. In my preoccupation with preparing for my departure, I almost forgot to call her.

"Hey you," I respond. "One second. Let me move to the living room."

I quickly grab my robe and tiptoe quietly out of the room. The guest bedroom door is closed, so I know Joe is still asleep, as he has decided to stay with us until I leave. I head outside to the patio to talk, as it could take a while and I don't want to wake anyone up. I sit down on the cold patio chair and pull my knees to my chest to keep warm.

"Sorry about that," I say.

"No problem," Kelly replies.

Whenever I get a call or visit from Kelly it's a big deal. We've been friends for so long that we're actually more like sisters. We don't know the details of each other's day-to-day lives, but when we spend time together it's as if no time has passed at all. I couldn't tell you her favorite color, song or movie, but I can tell you that she is one of my favorite people. And I'm pretty sure the feeling's mutual.

For the next thirty minutes we catch up and laugh like always. She makes sure I'm doing OK with the divorce and I assure her that I am. I wish I could tell her what's really been going on, but I know it's unnecessary. Even though I'm certain she would do her best to support and believe me, it isn't the last conversation I want to have with her. So instead I opt to tell her that I'll be in touch and that I love her before we hang up. I also make a mental note to follow through with that if I get home. I've quickly learned that life is too short to take loved ones for granted.

When I go back into the house, Joe's sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee. He's deep in thought. "Morning," I say closing the patio door behind me.

"Hi," he says quietly.

I walk towards him and sit in the chair across from his. "Are you OK?" I ask.

He nods unconvincingly. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?" he asks, finally making eye contact.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I am," I confidently reply.

"OK," he says. "Then so am I."

We're interrupted by little feet thumping down the hallway towards us. Olivia jumps into my lap and snuggles into my chest. I watch as Joe smiles at the sight of his sweet daughter. I try and take a picture with my mind. Will I remember this moment if I cross over? I hope so.

After making Olivia breakfast and having a cup of coffee, I decide to go get ready. We have about eight hours until Joe and I go to Astrid's, but first we are going to take Olivia to the park and dinner before dropping her at my mom's house to spend the night. As far as my mom knows, she is just having a night with Olivia. But what I know is that it may be the last time they see me the way I am now.

I let the warm water flow over my body in the shower. I take my time savoring the sensation of getting clean. It's like a baptism. When I'm finished, I try to find something to wear that I will miss getting the chance to wear again. I scour through the closet until finding an outfit that suits my mood.

I find a sun dress that I've forgotten about buried deep in the back of the closet. It was something I purchased with Stacy on our first shopping trip. I run my fingertips over the soft, white cotton, appreciating the simple embellishments and patterns in the dress. After putting it on, I take a long look in the mirror. I appear almost innocent—unsmudged, pure. I need to go into this day with that same mind frame. I need to be at peace.

I slip on a pair of low-heeled wedges and put my hair up half way. Then I put on a pair of earrings that Joe got me for Christmas. The small diamond studs are just enough to adorn my ear lobes without being too flashy.

When finished, I grab my laptop and power it on. After several minutes, it's finally functioning. I open my instant messenger and search for Michael's contact icon. He's offline, but I can still send him a message that he'll get when signing on later. And I'm actually sort of relieved that I'll be able to tell him what I need to without him being able to respond.

I begin to type.

"Hi, Michael. I am sorry I missed you. I'm also sorry that I haven't been able to talk much lately. I've been a little preoccupied. But I just wanted to say again...that I love you, very much. I want you to remember what I told you in England. Remember it all...and don't ever forget it. YOU will forever be MY soul mate."

I hit SEND and log off. I'm sure he'll get it before I depart, but there is nothing more to say. If I don't make it back, I pray that he'll carry my words with him always. If I do make it back, I'll tell him myself.

I then go back to the bedroom and make one last call. The phone rings three times before my grandpa picks up. I fight back tears when hearing his humble voice answer. I'll most likely never get to hear it again. We talk for a few minutes before my grandma gets on the line. She talks about their dinner plans at my cousin's house, an upcoming trip to southern California, and how much she misses us all. She makes me promise to tell her "blue eyes," that big Grandma and big Grandpa love her very much. I assure her that I'll pass along the message to Olivia, and then tell her how much I love them before hanging up. With the click of the phone disconnecting, I feel like I've lost them both for a second time. They, are once again, on the "other side" of life.

It's the middle of the afternoon by the time we're ready to leave. While Joe puts Olivia in the car, I take one last look around the house that has been my home for the past year. I take the letters that were hidden in my drawer and place them on the dining room table so Joe will see them if he comes back. Which would mean I didn't cross over.

Joe has been quiet and somber all day, but I can't let his personal feelings affect mine right now. I have to stay grounded in my belief that I'm doing the right thing. I need to stay focused.

We spend the day at the park feeding ducks and pushing Olivia on the swings. I enjoy the feeling of the warm grass under my bare feet, and the sun kissing my legs as I run from the ducks that are chasing us for bread. Olivia squeals with laughter when she sees me running from a goose that I'm sure will bite me if it gets the chance. I relish in her delight and try to live fully in the moment.

We have a leisurely dinner at a local brewery. I can't help but watch Olivia and Joe as they sit and eat next to each other. They chew the same, drink the same and make the same facial expressions when they enjoy their food. Joe catches me staring at one point and gives me a questioning look. I simply mouth the words, "Thank you." Joe nods in understanding. He gave me one of the greatest gifts I could have ever received—my first born daughter.

At 7:00 p.m. we head over to my mom's house. Joe waits in the car while I take Olivia inside. When my mom opens the door, she notices him and politely waves, but I can tell she's confused as to why we're together. I step inside and close the door behind me.

"Does he want to come in?" she asks.

"Oh no. We just took Olivia out together today and it ran a bit late so he came with me to drop her off," I ramble my explanation. She nods and doesn't pry.

"I'll take her stuff upstairs," my mom says, taking Olivia's backpack in her arms.

After she leaves, I get down on my knees so that I'm now at Olivia's level. She is eager to go play, but I need to have this moment with her.

"Livi," I say, while gently cupping her cheeks in my palms. Tears are beginning to pool in my eyes. "I want you to know that Mommy loves you soooo much, OK? You are the most wonderful girl," I say, before pausing to compose myself. Her big blue eyes search mine in confusion. I can tell that she wants to go and be a kid, but for this one moment I need her attention.

"And no matter what, remember, Mommy will always love you and my love is always with you, OK?" I say choking back tears. Olivia nods her head and leans in to hug me. She wraps her tiny arms tight around my neck and squeezes. I embrace her back as tight as I can without hurting her.

"I love you too, Mommy," she replies. When she leans back she gives me a quick kiss on the lips and runs off to play outside.

My mom reappears and makes her way to the bottom stair, just barely avoiding Olivia running into her. She laughs at Olivia's energetic joy. "OK, honey. I think she's all set," she says.

I'm silent for a moment while taking in this possibly last moment with my mom. I reach out for her and pull her in close. "I love you, Mom." I whisper, while trying not to cry.

Without questioning my emotion, she hugs me back. "I love you too, baby," she says softly.

"Bye," I say, quickly turning away so she won't see the tears that are escaping my eyes.

"Bye, honey," she replies, as I hurry out.

Joe starts the car when he sees me step out of the house and onto the porch. Before getting in the car, I hear Olivia's laughter coming from the back yard and I smile. When I slide into the seat, Joe asks if I'm alright. I nod as convincingly as I can, and stare out the window while trying to compose myself. I fear that if he sees me troubled he won't let me go through with the procedure.

I ask him to quickly stop by my dad's house. He agrees, and again waits in the car while I run in to say goodbye. As I quietly approach the screen door, I see my dad sitting in his recliner watching TV. Mary is sitting on the couch nearby and they are holding hands over the open space. At this angle, they're unable to see me watching them laugh in unison at something on the TV. They are content in their routine and in their life together. I smile, because I know they are going to be just fine. I'm grateful that in either version of my life, he has a good woman who loves him. But in all honesty, I'm most hopeful that Nancy will be the next person I see holding his hand.

"I love you, Dad," I silently mouth through the screen. I know that he can't hear or see me, but I decide to leave it at that. Then I turn around and hurry back to the car.

"That was quick," Joe comments when I get in.

I shrug. "I said what I needed to," I reply. I lean my head back and close my tired eyes. I see Stella's smiling and laughing. I see Michael reaching out to embrace me. And I see a teenage Olivia, waiting for her mother to guide her.

A sense of calm washes over me. I am ready.
CHAPTER 87

"Are you sure you want to do this, Jennifer? If this doesn't work, the outcome could be devastating," John quietly cautions. I stare at the vial in his hand and remind myself to breathe. I'm afraid, but anxious. Sad, but excited. I only have one shot to get back to where I came from. Back to where I belong. I nod to assure him, and he heavily sighs.

My attention turns to Joe, who is sitting and patiently waiting on the other side of the room. He's scared too—scared he could lose me forever, his friend and the mother of his child. But he's deeply in love with Rachel now and I know that he's starting to love her in the way he never loved me. I don't want to be a burden for him. I want them to live their life without me being an obstacle or Joe having to take care of me. I need to do this for him as much as myself.

"Joe, can I talk to you for a minute?" I ask him. He nods and stands up from his chair. I reach out for Joe to take my hand, then lead him into the kitchen. I'm struggling to find the right words. I have so much to say.

We have come such a long way. When I first arrived in this life, I resented him for a previous marriage that lacked everything I have with Michael. But somewhere along the way something changed and it brought us to a friendship I hadn't anticipated. He's a good man and a good father. I only want him to have the love and life he deserves and I know that I was never meant to be the one to give that to him. Rachel is.

I fight back the tears as I look into his eyes, which are beginning to fill with tears, but he holds them back. "I can't thank you enough, Joe. I know this was so hard for you to accept. And I appreciate you believing in me," I say, my voice straining with emotion.

He squeezes my hand and clenches his jaw for a moment. "You're welcome," he mumbles, before hanging his head. I pull Joe in close and wrap my arms around him. Then I rest my head on his chest, just like I did the night we danced at the wedding. This time I'm comforting him.

"If this doesn't work and you see me slipping away, please take Olivia somewhere else. Take care of her and love her for the both of us. Just make sure she knows how much I love her," I say through tears that are now flowing abundantly.

Joe backs away and looks at me. He's starting to panic. "We don't have to do this, Jen. We can keep things the way they are. We will figure out something," he pleads. I cup the sides of his face with my hands, forcing him to look at me.

"This is not the way it's supposed to be. We have lives we need to live. People we need to love. We can't play it safe. We will only resent each other if we do. And you will always wonder 'what if.' You are having a baby with Rachel, Joe. You love her," I say firmly.

Joe smiles a little at this fact before agreeing with me. He knows it's the truth. Astrid helped him see his future. He knows he's not supposed to be with me. And I can tell that he's truly in love with Rachel. I'm not going to be someone's "pity wife."

I remove my hands from his face and pull him in again for another embrace. "We may never be this way again, but I'm grateful that we were for a while," I whisper in his ear.

John quickly walks into the room, interrupting us. "Sorry for intruding, but it's getting close and we have to be specific on the time or we lose a chance of this working," he hastily explains.

I release Joe and gently kiss his cheek. "Here's to our futures," I say, forcing a smile. He forces a slight grin and releases me so I can follow John back to the living room.

There's a nervous tension in the room. I feel like I'm walking into my ultimate fate. There is no turning back. I have fully committed to this. I want Joe to have the love he deserves and children with the woman I know his heart belongs to. And even though younger Michael doesn't truly understand the intensity of my love for him, future Michael would want me back.

Before we proceed, I walk over to Astrid and look at her for a moment without saying anything. With her, there really isn't a reason to use words. She already knows what I'm feeling. She reaches out to embrace me and we stay that way for a moment.

"Thank you, Astrid," I say quietly.

Before getting the chance to second guess this decision, I remind myself that I'd never go through with this if there was a possibility that anyone else would be hurt by the process. Regardless of what happens to me, their lives will still go on one way or another. I will be the most affected in either case. This thought surprisingly comforts me, as I lie down on the couch.

I turn my head to face Astrid and Joe, who are now standing side-by-side. Her arm is around him. I smile slightly, then turn away and stare up at the ceiling. John kneels down beside me, clearly nervous. "You ready?" he asks, slightly tense. I smile and nod to reassure him.

"I'm so sorry if this doesn't work," he apologizes. I place my hand over his knuckles, which are white from clasping the vial.

"Thank you for everything John. I know that isn't enough, but I appreciate everything you've done to get me home," I softly say.

John's not an emotional person, but I can tell I've struck a chord, as he can no longer look me in the eye. His hand begins shaking a bit. He nods with acknowledgement and carefully pulls the small cork from the tiny vial. He intensely follows the hands on his watch.

I close my eyes and take slow deep breaths to calm my nerves. I begin to do a relaxation technique that I'd use when suffering from insomnia in the future. I tell myself the story of how Michael and I met. This always eased my tension and I could usually relax and fall asleep quickly. Michael's face appears in my mind. He is older and smiling at me. He's encouraging me to come back to him.

"Alright, now open your mouth," John instructs. I quickly brace myself for the contents of the vial. I'm suddenly feeling vulnerable, my heart's pounding in my chest. "Now," he says urgently.

A rush of adrenaline scorches through my body when I feel the thick drop of liquid hit my tongue. It takes only a moment for the vial to empty. John deeply exhales, then pats my shoulder to let me know that he's finished. A moment later, I hear him move away.

I firmly press my lips together and swallow. The flavor is bitter, then sweet, then sour, then salty, then my mouth feels numb. I stay as still as possible with my eyes clenched shut, as I feel a sudden rush of emotion consume me. I have the urge to laugh, and then cry. I can feel a tear running down my cheek. I hear Astrid, John and Joe quietly repeating the prayer they were told to say. Their voices are starting to drift farther away. Are they leaving me here alone?

Suddenly, my body feels very heavy. I'm being pulled from behind, but at the same time I have the sensation of being thrust forward. I cannot physically move. I'm still lying down, but starting to feel weightless, like I am floating. Their voices keep getting farther away. My ears are plugging, as if I'm under water. My head starts throbbing. I can no longer move, and I can't make it stop. I can't break free. It's too late.

I feel nauseous and need to throw up, but my lips won't part. My body aches all over, as if it's being thrown around. Suddenly, and all at once, I'm trapped, free, sad, sick, happy, hurt, joyful, angry, lost.

Dead.
CHAPTER 88

My body slams into something hard. I'm gasping, but unable to breathe. Everything hurts inside and out. I momentarily struggle while lying stunned against a solid surface, before slowly reaching out for something to grab onto. I feel only cold, smooth stone around me. When I'm able to breathe again, I try opening my eyes and they resist. Open! When they finally do, everything is blurry. Wherever I am is dark, but it feels like I'm outside. However there's no sound or any movement of air.

The pain is slowly subsiding, but my heart continues to thump inside my chest. I force my body to turn over on my stomach, then cough a bit before getting on all fours. Stomach acid instantly fills my throat, but I force it down. I take a full breath, then push back on my heels to sit up. The dizziness and nausea begin to wane. I'm feeling a sense of terror as I lift my head and prepare to see my surroundings. My tired eyes finally focus.

I slowly look to my left and see a sky full of stars, with a brilliant full moon, hanging above a field of tall grass. Looking down, I see that I'm sitting on dark, glassy marble. Ahead of me is a path that reflects the night sky. Turning my head, I'm surprised to find the exact same thing on the opposite side. Another moon and more stars. It's a mirrored image and I can't tell which one is the reflection.

I slowly pull myself up to standing. I'm able to breathe better and my heart rate is returning to normal. Stepping forward, I notice that I'm now wearing a long, white, sheet-like dress. I graze the fabric with my fingertips. It's soft and satin-like.

My eyes continue to adjust into focus. I cannot see any farther than fifty or so feet in front of me. Only the light from the sky is guiding the way. I take small steps with bare feet on the cold marble walkway. From my left, a comet soars across the sky. I instantly see the mirrored image of the same thing on my right. The tail of the comet vanishes on both sides in unison.

I'm starting to feel a slight breeze, but the grassy field remains still. I carefully walk to the left side and reach out to touch a blade of grass. As I touch it, it slowly lights up. Startled, I quickly pull my hand away. Its appearance returns to normal. Now curious, I turn around and walk to the opposite side. I notice that I don't see a reflection of myself, so it doesn't appear to be a mirror. What is it, then? I then touch a piece of grass in the field on the right. It lights up in the same way. This time I keep my finger on it. To my amazement, it changes colors. White, to gold, gold to yellow, yellow to blue, and blue to purple. It's remarkable.

I'm now intrigued and want to see more. I move to the middle of the marble path and slowly walk forward. The moonlight guides me as I cautiously move along. I'm still listening for a sign of life, but there's nothing. This is the loudest silence I've ever heard. The darkness ahead of me doesn't change shape or reveal anything new, but I keep going.

Suddenly, a zapping noise begins all around me. It sounds like an electrical short. Both sky's light up and a projector-like screen appears in each one. A moment later, images begin flashing quickly in unison. I stop and stare in astonishment. The images move so fast that I can barely make out what they are.

I see pictures of hands, cities, faces of babies, a man, and people together. I can't see any details. I don't know what or who I'm looking at specifically. The images keep looping and repeating themselves. I quickly look left and right to see if the images are staying exactly the same on both sides. I'm beginning to notice a pattern. My heart starts to beat faster.

Growing more scared and confused, I don't' know what I'm supposed to do with this information. I try and focus. This has to mean something. It's supposed to resonate with me. I continue looking back and forth, from side to side. I'm waiting for something, but I'm not sure what yet. The images are starting to look more and more familiar. It now occurs to me that I'm seeing images from my childhood, my future life and my past, flash quickly before my eyes. I intensely study the dueling images. This is a test!

Something isn't right, though. The pictures aren't matching completely and the timing of the images seems slightly off. Look! Focus! Focus! I'm sensing that one of the sets of images is real and the other is not. I quickly recall Jesus' story. I know I have to figure out which is which, but things are no longer as clear as they were before. I'm struggling again to recollect memories and questioning my certainty about my life.

Three images are now consistently looping—a newborn baby crying, wedding bands being placed on hands, and a cityscape. They keep repeating in order on each screen, but are moving so fast that I barely have seconds to focus on them. I concentrate harder. I see it! The wedding bands on the left aren't ours! They aren't our hands!

"That one!" I yell and point, though there's no one to hear my answer. The images abruptly freeze on the screen. The one on the right is clearly the correct one. It's a picture of Michael's and my hands on our wedding day.

I feel the ground starting to warm up a bit. I look down and see the marble floor is beginning to turn slightly gold in color, and there's a stream of light emerging beneath my feet. It then extends out in front of me. I take a few steps and it keeps growing, as if leading the way.

I pick up my pace, then I start running. The faster I run the more it extends. My feet slap hard against the stone beneath them, but I don't care, I keep going. I'm not paying attention to anything other than pathway of light ahead of me, though I don't know where it leads. I'm moving so fast, that I'm unable to see anything around me anymore. I no longer see the line either. But, I can hear the sound of my own scream as I fall into nothingness.

Does anyone hear me?
CHAPTER 89

Once again, I'm in darkness, but I am not in pain this time. I frantically search the space around me with my hands. I'm atop something like sheets and a mattress. I think I'm in a bed, but where? I slowly reach further out to my side, wondering if there's someone next to me. I fear it will be Joe— that it will be anyone but Michael.

My hand drops into an empty space. There's nothing but air. I reach to my other side. It's the same thing. Wherever I'm laying is very small. My breath quickens and I begin feeling claustrophobic. I shake and begin crying in fear, when suddenly a door opens.

Startled, I scream. A light silhouettes a figure standing in the doorway. I pull back, afraid of who might approach me. The figure rushes over to my side. Shutting my eyes, I brace myself to be harmed. Instead, the feeling of gentle hands brush the top of my head and a voice hushes me soothingly.

"It's OK, honey," the voice whispers. I know this voice. It's my mother's. I quickly open my eyes and try to see her face. What am I doing in my mom's house? How did I get here?

I hear her reach for something and a light clicks on. I gasp when seeing her face. She is younger, possibly in her mid-thirties. I glance around the room. It's a child's room. My childhood room.

"What the hell?" I blurt out. My mom's brow furrows and she looks shocked.

"Jenni, what did you say?" she sternly asks.

I look at her, surprised by her reprimanding tone. I frantically look around the room and then down at myself in the bed. It's a small bed, and my feet aren't even reaching the end of it. I notice my hands. They are the size of a small child's. I think I'm going to hyperventilate.

"OK, let's go get you a drink of water," my young mother says, noticing my disorientation.

I climb out of the bed and hesitantly follow her. She makes her way ahead of me as if this is nothing abnormal. I cautiously look around before stepping out into the hall. Everything looks just as it did when I was growing up here. The wall colors are the same yellowish beige. The carpet is old green and brown shag. The art on the walls is still the same. The only difference now is they are higher above me than the last time I stood here, at the age of fourteen. How did this happen?

Upon entering the kitchen, she leisurely grabs a cup from the cabinet, fills it with water and hands it to me. "Here you go, sweetie," she says gently.

I gaze up at her, wide-eyed. It's my mom. It's my hero. She's just younger—about the age I was when thrown into this nightmare. Her normally grey hair is again a dusty brown. Her skin is smoother and more plump.

Without caution, I lean in and wrap my arms around her. "Mommy," I say instinctively. I feel instantly safe. She leans over and embraces me back. I don't know what this means, but I don't want to think about it right now. I just want to feel the sanctuary of my mother's arms and protection from my current circumstances.

Something wet starts tickling the back of my ankle. It feels like the tongue of an animal. I giggle and turn around to see our small cocker spaniel sitting, wagging its tail. "Hi, puppy," I say and lean over to pet it. The dog is eager to kiss my face. I laugh again and pet its soft head, as it tries to jump on me. I stop worrying for a moment and enjoy the reunion between me and a dog I haven't seen in years. Then the realization hits me that I've never seen this dog....ever. This isn't our dog. We didn't have a cocker spaniel. Kelly's family did.

My heart lurches. Becoming frightened, I look around the room. It all appears the same, but something is off. It's too perfect and not lived in. It isn't real. I look back at my mother. I'm terrified now. I am small and don't know if she will hurt me. I don't know if this is really her.

"This isn't our dog," I fearfully whisper.

She lovingly smiles at me. "You're right," she gently replies.

Instantly, my mom pulls away from me. The same sensations of being pushed and tugged are happening again. Darkness starts surrounding me as I fall. I reach out to grab hold of anything to anchor me, but there's nothing there.
CHAPTER 90

My body plunges into a mass of cold water, and I fight against it to come up to the surface. I forcefully break through and gasp for air. I can't breathe and I'm choking. I struggle until finally, liquid spits out from my mouth. I slowly regain my breath, while treading water. I look around quickly to see my surroundings. There appears to be a small house about twenty yards ahead on the shore and a small dock to my left. No one is around.

I begin to swim quickly towards the house, gasping for more air when getting closer to the grassy shore. I hoist myself out of the water with my last bit of strength and collapse on the ground. I look up at the dusky sky and focus on the sparse stars above, while catching my breath. The air is quickly cooling down and I'm getting colder. I look down and notice I'm wearing a swimsuit that I've never seen before.

I look towards the house and see a light's on and smoke is coming from the chimney. It looks slightly familiar. Cautiously, I approach the front porch. As I begin my ascent up the stairs, I notice a car parked in the driveway. The license plates are foreign. Swedish. I quickly hurry up the steps and frantically knock on the door. Seconds later the door opens abruptly. It's Michael.

I throw myself at him and cling to him tightly. "Whoa, babe, you're getting me all wet!" he laughs, but hugs me anyway.

He steps back and reaches for a towel hanging on a hook by the door. We must be at his family's lake cabin. I quickly wrap the towel around my body, then grab him again so forcefully that he's backed into the wall behind him. I kiss him again. He doesn't resist and kisses me back. After a moment, I pull away and look at him. It's Michael, older—the way I left him. I grab the sides of his face and kiss him once more. He's surprised, but goes with it. We do this for several minutes until I'm satisfied that we're finally together and this is real.

Then I break away from him and rush to the first mirror I can find, in the hall bathroom. I look older. I look like me. I turn around so I can see my back in the mirror and move my wet hair away from my shoulders. My tattoo is there again. I'm elated. Silently, I celebrate my return.

"Michael," I shout, rushing out of the bathroom to find him. I want to hold him. I want to hold Stella and Olivia. I could cry and laugh with joy all at once.

"In here," he calls from the small kitchen. He's stirring something on the stove when I enter.

"Where are the kids?" I ask excitedly.

"What kids?" he casually replies.

"Stella...Olivia," I say confused, but realize we might have come without them.

Michael stops stirring and looks at me. "Who?" he asks puzzled. My heart drops and my legs weaken. It's another test.

"I'm sorry," I reply deflated, slowly stepping away from him. "I must have the wrong house."

I briskly head towards the door, then decide that I want to hold him one last time. When I turn back around he's gone. There's nothing on the stove. There's no one in the room. This is all an awful trick. Nothing here is real, he was not real. We have never been here together. This isn't a memory from our life.

The floor begins shaking below me. Walls tremble and pictures are starting to fall and crash to the ground. I stand frozen in the middle of it all, not knowing which way to move to avoid being hurt. I instinctively put my hands over my head and shield myself from my crumbling surroundings. Suddenly, thunder and lightning are everywhere, and a storm surrounds me. My body is being forced sideways, but I do my best to keep my footing grounded. "STOP IT!!!" I scream into the fury.

I don't want to feel the pain of it all anymore. I close my eyes and begin to pray. "I just want to go home!" I cry out.

In an instant everything goes still. The wind, rain, thunder and lightning cease all at once. I breathe hard and quiet my sobs. I'm still afraid to open my eyes. What mirage will I see? What illusion will I encounter next? Was it all just an illusion? The life with Michael, the life with Joe...what is real?

I'm no longer feeling wet or cold. But, there's a soft breeze tickling my ankles and blowing my hair away from my face. I slowly open my eyes and gasp. Three large pools of spinning water are hundreds of feet below me. I look down and realize that I'm perched on some sort of stone pillar. Panic wells up inside me, but I must remain steady or I'll fall. I draw in a breath, then look around before carefully stepping back. I am surrounded by water. There is no way down from here. There's nowhere to go. I'm in the middle of an angry ocean.

The sun beams down upon me, as if I'm being called on to make a decision. I watch the water violently swirl in each circular void. The speed is increasing. Blue and green waves crash and spin. It's simultaneously beautiful, frightening, and inviting. I only have one option. It's inevitable.

I stare as static images begin to manifest in the depths of each raging whirlpool. They are moving so fast and none of them are clear. I am starting to feel sick with vertigo. I'm supposed to choose one, I know this now, but I'm not sure which one. They speed up, faster, faster, faster. Words are now mixing within the images. I cannot read fast enough to comprehend them. I focus harder, my eyes shift back and forth rapidly, searching for a sign. I know it will come. Wait.....watch for it. Jump!

My body falls at a rapid speed. The light fabric of my garment blows angrily against my skin. I keep my eyes tightly shut and brace for the impact. I can't look, I'm terrified. The ocean air slaps my flesh right before I crash through the surface.

Everything stops. There's no sound, and no light as I slowly descend into a warm body of liquid. It feels denser than water, but I keep holding my breath. Tiny streams of light begin illuminating the darkness, like bright little stars. I'm not afraid as I keep falling slowly, though I know not where.

From the corner of my eye, I see something white floating nearby. I carefully reach out to grab it and it almost slips between my fingers. Pulling it closer, I realize it's a photo. It's a picture of Stella and Olivia. I bring it near to my chest and hang on to it tightly. Then something else catches my eye in the distance. A silver sparkle reflects the small rays of light penetrating the water. I force my body towards it. I extend my hand and clasp the tiny object. I slowly open my fist to inspect it. In the palm of my hand lies my wedding ring. I carefully slide it on my ring finger, still keeping hold of the picture.

I don't feel the need for air as the weight of my body slowly carries me downward into a deeper darkness. Wherever it is that I am, I don't need to breathe. I try to swim, but it's too difficult, so I keep falling slowly.

Something delicately sweeps across my arm. I manage to turn my body around in the dense water. Michael appears in front of me, staring deeply into my eyes. We cannot speak to each other. He slowly lifts his hand through the water and gently places it on the side of my face. He simply smiles. I can see it's really him. I see our story behind his eyes. He gently leans in and lightly kisses my lips. I want to hold on to this moment. But, I fear it's my last.

My body starts feeling heavier. Something is forcefully beneath me that I cannot see. I try to hang on tightly to Michael as I'm being swept away. I begin to panic. I can't let go! I'm scared I'll lose him for good.

I look pleadingly into his eyes. He remains calm, still smiling softly at me. It's as if he can't see what's happening. I'm being pulled down harder, and can no longer hang on. I try to scream and yell for help, but nothing comes out of my mouth. I'm struggling, and losing the fight. As I rapidly slip farther down, there's nothing but darkness and the heavy pull of gravity.

I no longer feel the warm water, Michael's presence, or the need to fight. My head becomes lighter, and my eyes want to close.

And then I feeling nothing at all....

CHAPTER 91

I'm jostled from the calm when my body slams against something solid. I struggle to breathe from the wind getting knocked out of me. Everything hurts and I've landed on my shoulder. I'm afraid to open my eyes. I can't take any more "tests". I can't take any more trials of my will. I want to give up. I just want this to be over.

Something begins running towards me. Vibrating footsteps tremble underneath my body, as whatever it is gets closer. Suddenly hands are pulling on me. "Jenni, Jenni!" a voice pleads frantically. I'm then turned over on my back and lightly shaken, as whoever it is tries to bring me to consciousness.

My eyes fly open and I catch my breath. "Michael!" I cry, startling him when I abruptly grab at him. Worry and confusion show in his hazel eyes. Michael's expression is just like Joe's on the day I appeared at his house and fainted. He looks like a concerned husband. He's _my_ concerned husband.

Quickly but carefully, I sit up and wrap my arms around him. I touch every part of his exposed flesh for proof that it's really him, then begin sobbing. I'm barely able to catch a breath as I continue to cry and cling to him with all my might. I won't let go of him again.

"Babe, are you OK? Are you hurt?" he asks.

I nod, then shake my head while trying to stop crying. I don't really know how I am. From the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, I know Michael's scared. But rather than overwhelm me with questions, he tenderly comforts me instead.

We stay like this for several minutes, but I keep waiting for something to change. For the room to shift, for Michael to transform, or for me to fall away again. I lift my head away from where it's burrowed between his chest and chin. Slowly rising to a sitting position, I cautiously begin to inspect what's around me.

I remain on the floor next to a bed—it looks like our bed. I focus on the décor, and pictures on shelves. 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 in the corner and Stella's doll on the floor. This is our bedroom.

I look at Michael, now certain it's really him. I lean in and place my hands behind his neck, gently pulling him towards me. He's surprised by my affection, but doesn't resist. Our kiss feels different from the moment we had in the cabin. It's even more tangible.

I've missed these lips for too long. Even though I was able to be affectionate with young Michael, he wasn't the same person I'm with right now. He wasn't yet the man that I've fallen more in love with as we've made our journey in this 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.

When I'm satisfied, I fold into his embrace again. I'm exhausted. My head is jumbled and aching from what I endured to get back here. All I want to do is remain in the shelter of Michael's arms and rest.

"You fell out of bed pretty hard. Are you sure you're alright?" he whispers, continuing to comfort me.

I look up and meet his gaze. "I am if I'm with you," I say, smiling broadly.

Michael doesn't seem convinced. He helps me to stand, then leads me to sit on the bed. He looks at the side of my face, inspecting it for any cuts or bruises. He checks my eyes to make sure they're correctly dilated. Once assured, Michael strokes my hair and stares at me. I haven't seen him this worried since I was in labor with Stella.

He carefully sits down on the bed and gently 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 did? What did I say?" I ask perplexed. 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. I tried to wake you, but you wouldn't budge. 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 respond to me. You'd just roll over, continue sleeping and dreaming. I barely slept last night," he says with a yawn.

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 sleep. Blood starts pulsing through my head. It feels like my brain's been damaged, tormented and played with. Nothing about this makes sense. In my mind, I clearly see images of the journey I experienced and vividly recall a life I was living only a few hours ago. It seems as real as being here right now. How can I know so much about it, if it didn't really happen? Was everything that occurred only a dream?

I'm brought out of my thoughts when the bedroom door opens. Stella sleepily shuffles in, rubbing her eyes, while making her way to Michael. My heart pounds while watching him lift Stella up and place her in his lap. She leans comfortably against his chest. I'm stunned by her presence, and unable to move. Tears well up in my eyes.

"Today's your birthday party," he quietly says, tickling her belly. She lets out a hearty giggle.

The shock of seeing her again quickly wears off, and I instinctively reach for her. She moves over to my lap and wraps her small arms around me, embracing me fully. I bury my head in her hair and take in her scent. I'm having 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 is also my baby. She too is my daughter. And I'll never forsake her, Michael, Olivia or anyone that I love again. I hold her tight, trying not to cry. "Happy birthday, baby girl," I whisper. I never want to let her go.
CHAPTER 92

After a while, Michael finally 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 provides me with the details of Stella's birthday party. Coincidentally, it's at the same pizza parlor where Joe and I had Olivia's fifth birthday party. Or did we?

While he's busy, I move carefully around the house, touching practically every wall, doorway and tangible object I can find to make sure I'm really where I appear to be.

I inspect every family photo, check the closets, and rifle through drawers. Everything seems to be where it should.

Lastly, I make my way to Olivia's room. I attempted to do this earlier, but Michael encouraged me not to wake her. When I get there, her bedroom door is still closed. This is normal 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 disturb Olivia. Her long, dark hair is sprawled across her pillow. Her back faces the doorway, similar to the day I saw her again at age four. I lean my head against the door frame and though I long to hold her, but settle for watching her sleep. My heart aches a little at the realization that she's no longer five. She is almost thirteen. How quickly I'm losing her to the teenage years.

She starts to wake and stretch in bed, her long legs poking out from under the covers while extending them. She senses my presence and quickly looks towards the door. Upon seeing me, she frowns.

"What are you doing, Mom?" Olivia asks, annoyed. I scoff with a chuckle and my heart swells. This is my life—my beautiful life.

I make my way over to the bedside and nudge her to scoot over so I can climb into bed and snuggle. 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 climbing back out of her bed and leaving her alone.

"Love ya too," she says half-heartedly. I smile though, because I know she really does.

As I'm leaving, her cell phone rings from the desk. I reach over to grab it and hand it to her, but almost lose my breath when seeing the number on the caller ID. It's Joe. My heart suddenly 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'm OK and he doesn't need to worry. Although I really want to.

I hand the phone to Olivia and leave the room before tears escape my eyes. I'm emotional and confused. I don't know where I've really 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've ended up back in the life I was fighting to live again. I'm grateful for that, but I find that I'm also melancholy about leaving behind what I remember so clearly.

I head to my bedroom to check my cell phone. I don't have any missed calls, but why would I? I feel the need to call friends and family to tell them I'm back. But that wouldn't make any sense to anyone. In their minds, I haven't gone anywhere.

I make my way to the bathroom mirror, 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 into my room and prepare to make the bed. Moments later Olivia appears in the doorway, with her hand covering the speaking part of her phone. She holds it away from her.

"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 take me to lunch," she says.

Normally this would infuriate me. On occasion Joe has come into town on a whim and would want to whisk Olivia off somewhere. But this time I smile when thinking 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 reluctantly hands me the phone. I nod to confirm that it's really OK.

"Hello, Joe?" I ask nervously into the phone. My palms begin to sweat. There's a moment of silence on the other end.

"Hello..." Joe replies, perplexed and slightly defensive at hearing my voice. 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's again quiet. "Uh...that's alright," he responds politely.

"So, as you may know, we're having a party for Stella today around noon. I know you might have other plans, but if you're 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 invitation.

I take a deep breath and swallow hard while preparing for rejection. I don't know why I'm doing this, but it feels like the right thing to do. I glance at Olivia, who's now looking very confused by my actions.

The line goes quiet again. "Can I put you on hold for a second," Joe wearily asks. I'm then left waiting for several moments. I can't hear anything but mumbled voices in the background, as if he's covering the mouthpiece. I assume he's talking to Rachel.

"Are you still there?" he asks when getting back on the line.

"Yep," I say, overly cheerful.

"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'm pleasantly surprised, nervous and hopeful after the brief conversation with Joe. If I learned nothing else from whatever glimpse I had into an alternative past life, I at least know that it's time to turn over a new leaf.
CHAPTER 93

The morning passes quickly and we are soon on our way to the pizza parlor to set up before everyone arrives. I feel like I've 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 birthday celebration. 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. I'm pretty sure there won't be any issues on that front.

As we enter, I'm hit by an all too familiar feeling of nostalgia, as if was recently here—in my mind I was. Olivia's birthday party doesn't feel like a dream to me. It feels like a memory. I remember so many details.

I shake off the feeling and continue to the private room we've reserved while Olivia takes Stella to the playroom. Michael grabs the balloons and gifts from the car and follows me inside. It's just the two of us alone to set up. I watch him as he tries to strategically place balloons and party plates on tables to make the room look more festive.

I smile, as this is endearing to me. I put down the cake box and walk over to where he's now distributing party favors. I wrap my arms around him from behind and lean my face to rest on his back. With my eyes closed, I take in his muscular stature and warmth, and smell the scent of his soap and cologne. He stops what he's doing and turns around to face me.

"Well, hello!" he playfully remarks, as he hugs me back. I lean in and embrace him again.

I look up to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry," I say.

His forehead creases. "Why?" he asks puzzled.

I recall how I'd been feeling the night before waking up in the past. I remember how cold and neglectful I'd been. I had taken Michael and the life we built for granted.

"For not being the wife you deserve," I simply reply.

He ponders my response for a moment. "You are the wife I deserve, babe. And I love you," he sincerely states. I appreciate the sentiment, but I want him to understand what I'm trying to say.

"No, Michael. I really love you. And I want to thank you for everything you've given me and our family. I have so much to be grateful for and I'm so sorry if I took that for granted. Thank you for loving me so much," I elaborate, while warding off tears.

It's still not everything I want to say, but I can't say anything more without possibly confusing him. Like how I was completely lost without him. That I'm grateful to have found him again. And I'm thankful to feel his love, and that my love for him is fully restored. Maybe someday I'll tell him about my crazy dream. Then he might understand why I professed my feelings today.

Michael lifts my chin and his lips meet mine. He places a kiss firmly upon them. A rush of blood starts from my toes and moves quickly to the top of my head. Once again, I come to life. I'm rejuvenated.

As the door opens across the restaurant, blinding outside light hits my eyes and causes me to pull away slightly. Two adult sized silhouettes head in our direction, with small children trailing behind them. When my eyes finally adjust and focus, I realize that it's Joe, Rachel and their two young sons.

Michael turns to see who I'm looking at. He faces me again and winks. He then walks out of the private room and extends his hand to shake Joe's. A friendly smile spreads across Joe's face. He then motions to Rachel and their children to come over and say hello. I follow Michael's lead and put a smile on my face when approaching them. I'm genuinely happy to see them all. I even greet Rachel with a polite hug, before kneeling down to their boys to tell them where the playroom is.

Shortly afterwards, Rachel excuses herself to go to the restroom and Michael heads to the counter to check on the pizza order. This leaves Joe and me awkwardly standing alone. My mouth feels dry and I'm at a loss for words. I want to say so much, but I don't know what words would make this less uncomfortable.

I finally muster up the courage to speak. "I just really want to thank you guys for coming," I manage. "It means a lot to Livi....it means a lot to me, too."

Joe seems a little surprised, but nods politely and smiles. "No problem," he replies.

I can't help but notice small wrinkles around his eyes. These weren't there the last time I saw him, whenever that really was. His face has aged subtly. A few grey strands dust his short hair. In a flash so much has changed, but in reverse. We aren't young anymore.

Rachel smiles at us when emerging from the bathroom, then places her hand low on her stomach. "That's better," she says and lets out a little laugh. I then notice that her thin frame looks a little plumper in the midsection than I remember. I quickly look up when realizing she sees me staring.

She pats her belly softly. "Five months along," she says beaming.

I feel so many emotions welling up inside. I want to grab Joe and hug him, just like I did at Astrid's, when he told me Rachel was pregnant then. I wonder if my weird dream was some sort of premonition. Maybe I'm slightly psychic too? I congratulate them both, as does Michael when he joins us again. He's carrying two beers and hands one to Joe, who genuinely seems appreciative of the gesture.

Guests begin arriving quickly thereafter. 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 abundant display of affection and doesn't question it.

I catch my breath when seeing my father and Nancy step through the doors. As they walk in, they laugh and smile while struggling to carry a large gift. I almost knock Nancy over when hugging her hello. 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. I'm so thankful that she's here and she's alive. Our family would never be complete without her.

Michael helps coordinate the pizza and drinks while engaging in small talk with Joe. All of my parent's chit chat about traveling, gardening and whatever else people their age enjoy. Stella, Joe's kids and her other little friends run around with balloons. Rachel visits with Olivia about the upcoming school year and volleyball. And I just sit back and admire my unconventional family enjoying each other's company.

I am exactly where I'm supposed to be.
CHAPTER 94

We leisurely stroll down the river walk after the hectic birthday party. It's peaceful, as the sun shines brightly and makes the late afternoon more pleasant. Stella and Olivia walk a few feet ahead of us, enjoying ice cream cones as we head toward the waterfront. Michael and I walk hand-in-hand in silence. I'm still in the afterglow of being back home, seeing my family and seeing Joe and Rachel—I'm grateful we were all able to be together.

I breathe in the sweet scented summer air. There's a bakery nearby, and I can smell a hint of cinnamon. As we continue our casual walk, I gaze at the shops and restaurants across the small cobblestone street. They are all where they should be, where I remember them.

Stella hands her big sister a half-eaten cone, then begins running as we approach the large fountains. Olivia tries to sprint after her, but quickly gives up. In Stella's daring nature, she dashes quickly into a sprouting stream of water, not caring about getting wet. I laugh out loud as she squeals and screams with joy.

The three of us sit down on a stone bench to watch Stella play. I'm immediately drawn into observing people milling about the closed off street, as they meander through the outdoor craft market that's taking place. I close my eyes and inhale through my nose, feeling more grounded with each breath I take.

I hear the vaguely familiar laugh of a woman from across the way. I look around, trying to identify where it's coming from. My eyes quickly shift to a small booth covered by a white canopy. Inside stands an older woman with a younger man, perhaps in his thirties. I squint while trying to get a better look at her. My heart jolts and I stand up quickly.

"I'll be right back," I mumble to Michael and Olivia. They casually nod and continue watching Stella play.

I'm spellbound as I deliberately make my way towards the stand adorned by fresh herbs, flowers, knitted hats and scarves. Getting closer, I can see her more clearly. It's Astrid.

I slow my pace when approaching her booth. My heart's now in my throat, pounding away. I swallow hard and prepare to speak. Astrid is placing some herbs into a mason jar and handing it to a gentleman ahead of me. He hands her cash in return, thanks her and walks away. She puts the money in a tin box and turns around to face me.

"Hello there!" she says in her friendly tone. She doesn't appear to be phased by my presence.

"Hi," I manage to squeak out. I'm wide-eyed in amazement at my dear friend standing before me. Does she not recognize me?

"Are you looking for something specific?" she asks helpfully. I shake my head, peering at her for some sign of recognition.

"No, just curious as to what you have," I answer offhandedly, trying to keep my composure.

She excitedly clasps her hands together. "Well, we have fresh herbs, lavender, and as you can see, some fun hats and scarves. I knitted them myself!" she exclaims proudly, with a chuckle.

I reach up and touch a purple scarf hanging on a rack. It's soft and finely knitted, just like the ones I remember. In fact, one very specifically. How is this possible? Have I seen Astrid here at this market before? Did I manifest her into my dream?

"Oh, that would be pretty on you," she remarks. I can't help but smile. She is cheerful, just the way I remember the Astrid I knew to be.

"I'll take it," I gladly say.

"Wonderful!" she says, before taking it down.

I watch as she carefully folds the scarf and places it into a small bag. The younger man I saw with her earlier steps back into the booth after being absent for a few minutes. He's now holding a box of herbs.

"Where do you want these, Mom?" he asks her.

"Oh, right over there, sweetie," she says, pointing to another table.

Dumbfounded, my eyes widen and I catch my breath. I watch in amazement as they engage in short conversation. The sight before me is surreal. It's her son. He's alive and looks visibly healthy. Was he ever sick?

"OK, that will be five dollars," she says, handing me the bag.

I quickly recover and fumble through my purse to find some cash. I hand her a ten dollar bill, then wait for the change. I want to ask her what her name is. I want to ask her if she knows me, but I fear that I'd be disappointed by the answers. It seems more and more likely, that whatever experience I had was just a dream. Yet somehow, this woman and her son became a part of it.

"Thank you," I say quietly and take the change.

"You're most welcome, dear," she says warmly.

"Bye," I say, my eyes lingering on hers—looking for more. She only smiles back at me. I give up and slowly turn around to head back towards my family.

"Goodbye, Jennifer," Astrid calls from behind me, as I start to cross the street. I stop in my tracks, but I don't look back.

Instead, I smile, take a deep breath and keep walking.

About the EJ Valson

With a passion for writing and a love of books and movies, EJ channeled some of her personal experiences (real love letters, folks!) and emotions into her first book, _The Nostalgia Effect_. The tale of a mid-thirties woman, who finds herself thrown back into her past still married to her ex-husband and yearning to get back to the life and love she knew before.

EJ currently resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and children. In her spare time, she likes to travel, write, read, eat, listen to music and will never turn down a good vodka martini. But her most favorite past time, is being with her loved ones.

If you enjoyed _The Nostalgia Effect_ and want to know more about her upcoming titles, visit www.ejvalson.blogspot.com.

Are you a music lover? Check out _The Nostalgia Effect_ playlist on Spotify <https://play.spotify.com/user/ejvalson> and look for _The Nostalgia Effect_ playlist.

Thank you for reading!

