Occult Suspense for Mothers Boxset: The Nostalgia Effect by EJ Valson and Mother's by Michelle Read (2 ebooks for one price) (38 page)

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 is doing it. It is his way of learning to live without this life. I excuse his neglect and tell Olivia Daddy needs some time with his friends, just like she gets at school.

I finally decide to tell my parents. They are sad and suggest that we do everything possible to save our marriage. I’m strong-headed when necessary, so when I make it clear that there is no hope they give up and say they support us in whatever way we need. Joe’s parents are 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 protective of their son.

Joe is cordial towards me, but I think he is 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.

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 is home alone for the night. I concede and make plans for Olivia to go to my parents’.

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 take my time getting ready. I shower, shave and do 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. I take a long look in the mirror. I am 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 am 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 any year. Regardless, it is still my home and that comforts me.

As we enter, the restaurant overflows with life and music. We are quickly seated at a table for two. We order two martinis and a plate of fries until we decide what we want for dinner. We aren’t in any rush and we are having a good time people watching and laughing at stupid things, like we always do. It is 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 will live in the moment with my friend.

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 we finish our long dinner, we decide to move on to a few more places.

“Oh, let’s go to Karaoke!” she exclaims.

“Hell no! I am not singing,” I laugh back at her.

“No, we will 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 teeter on the cobblestone, so we link arms and lean on each other for stability. I feel a wash of what I now refer to as the “Deja vu daze” come over me for a moment when we pass another pub. I quickly recall a moment when I danced there with Michael on an empty dance floor while the group we were with was ordering drinks. We were in another area where no one could see us. And that was the point when we stole the moment for a chance 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 is taller and has no problem maneuvering through the sea of people. For a moment I feel out of place, but then realize that in my appearance I am still in my twenties, so I will 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 have seen them before. The atmosphere is upbeat and lively and the energy caters to 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. 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 will flirt with him. 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 still in mid-sentence when she notices something behind me that breaks her concentration. “Oh hey!” she shouts and starts waving to someone behind me.

Before I get a chance to look, Michael is standing 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. I smile and blush a little.

“OK, great, thanks,” I reply.

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 standing close to me. He is looking around assessing the bar, the people, the band. I have seen him do this before. He isn’t judging, just taking in his surroundings. I smile a bit at the recognition of his habit.

I can’t help but stare at him. I am 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 have ever known -- the kind of guy 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.

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 and grins at the ironic shirt. “Thanks,” he says.

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 or 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, feel his presence. It takes everything in me to not reach out and hold his hand. He has no idea that this girl sitting right next to him is fighting every natural instinct not to grab him, kiss him and hold him as tight as she can.
I’m so in love with him. Every part of him, good and bad, he is mine.

I know in my soul, I know to my core, and I 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 true, but in my case I have been blessed enough to meet
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 is 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 have 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 is going to travel down to his village and meet with him next week. He is going to 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 am worried about getting my hopes up. This is the only lead we have. There is no one else in their special community that had ever heard about anything like what I have experienced. John has made the most headway, but if he reaches a dead end I don’t know where I will 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 in its 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 have been getting glimpses of you smiling and happy. And….you need to let go of any guilt you may have about Joe. He is 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 am 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 I see it’s Joe, who has already sat down and is taking off his shoes.

“Hi,” I say meekly, as I enter the living room. I’m not sure if he wants to talk.

“Hi,” he says, not making eye contact. He seems annoyed by my presence.

“How was the party?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Fine,” he says shortly.

“You’re home early,” I say while I take a seat nearby. I can tell he doesn’t want to chat, but we have to get over this awkward stage if we are going to co-parent successfully. I can’t bear for things to be like they are in my other life. Not with how I know Joe the way he is now.

“Yeah, it was boring, so Jason brought me back early, since he had to work anyway,” he explains.

I begin to ask what they did when he abruptly cuts me off. “Jen, stop,” he says. “Stop trying to be my friend,” he says firmly.

I take a hard swallow. I am not used to him talking to me like that. I can feel the blood rushing to my face. I’m embarrassed and trying not to cry. “Sorry,” I manage to say while choking back tears. I am confused. I thought we had an understanding. I don’t know why he is suddenly acting so cold.

He sits for a moment with his head hanging and his palms pressed against his forehead. I wait in silence. “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 am 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 is constantly telling him to visit his kid or pay child support?

“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 is right. There is 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 will 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.