― John Mark Green
The First Time
Nothing about my life lately is making any sense.
I'm sitting here in The Wheat Sheaf Tavern with Clair and she's telling me she knows me from another life.
Meanwhile, my hard-headed and practical friend, Dan Porter, seems to have abandoned all his journalistic objectivity and is doing a walk about with Trina, Clair's friend, who claims she also lived this past life with her and is taking Dan on a tour of past haunts.
What the hell! Is everyone going crazy?
"I hope I didn't make you feel uncomfortable," Clair says, a concerned look on her face.
I shake my head.
"I honestly don't know what to think―I've been going through some strange stuff myself. I mean, from the very beginning I was drawn to Dolores―she seemed so intriguing to me. I kept staring at her photo and thinking how I accepted the fact she died in 1980 but at the same time felt she was still alive and here with me. But I had no idea how that could possibly be."
"I think maybe I can help you understand that. Are you up to taking a walk?"
"You mean around the old neighbourhood where Trina claims you both used to live?"
She nodded. "Something like that, but first I have to phone Trina and check in on her and Dan."
"Sure, go ahead and do that while I settle our tab with the waitress." I had to laugh at the irony as I handed over my credit card―Dan always offers to 'treat ' me but I still end up paying regardless.
When I finally get back to the table, Clair is sitting waiting with her coat on.
It's a longline, camel-coloured wool coat with a wrap-front closure, a classic, and seeing her in it takes my breath away. I'm reminded of something so familiar it fills me with deep longing and my eyes grow moist.
"I shouldn't have worried about Dan and Trina," she tells me, "they're hitting it off so well, Dan is driving her home. Sorry, if I spoiled your night out with your friend."
"Spoiled it?" I laugh, "Far from it—I’m really happy for Dan. He's a good guy and needs a woman."
"And what about you?" she teases.
"Oh, I have somebody I see in dreams, but am never able to find her."
"Well, c’mon—let's go looking and see what we can find."
She offers me her hand and when I grasp it she closes it into a fist with her thumb tucked inside.
Something explodes inside me—a recognition of a peculiar gesture I had forgotten. That was how Dolores held my hand in dreams.
It was something minor, but not inconsequential. It always made me feel as if I were enveloping and protecting her—except for the one time I didn't. The one time I failed.
Again, I can feel grief well up within me, but I stifle the tears as I always did and push the pain far from me. I think Clair sensed it, however, and leaned in close, clinging to my side.
As we walked out together, another scene flashed before me—the two of us in a cafe, kissing for the first time.
Pictures of the past fluttered out of me like photos scattering from a wallet and my hidden life is laid bare before me.