Pick Up the Pieces

by Kelly Utt

  The a/c unit turns on and I’m again reminded of my exposed posterior. I realize how this all sounds. It’s unbelievable, even to me. And I’m the one going through it. I probably look like a crazy person, crying as my ass hangs out and I tell stories about a past life back to haunt me.

  Right.

  “That sounds hard,” Barney says.

  He’s patronizing me. Yet he also seems to genuinely care. It’s confusing. I didn’t pay much attention to him on the flight. I simply said hello and cataloged his name and face in my mental rolodex. I didn’t get a good read on him. I wish Liam was here. I could ask him about his impressions.

  I see Adam out the corner of my eye. He’s close. I feel like a rabbit about to be snared in a trap. My resolve weakens and I consider giving up.

  “Look, man,” I say to Barney. He’s the one with the syringe, so it seems like I should address him. “Put yourself in my position.”

  “I’m trying to do just that,” he says. “I feel for you. I really do.”

  Adam takes a few more steps and moves into striking distance. Rallying, I turn to face him. I lunge forward, grabbing him by the shoulders. My balance isn’t back to normal. I try to move smoothly, but the execution is lacking. The two of us slam down hard onto the linoleum floor. My shoulder crashes against the unforgiving surface and the pain is so bad, it sends me into convulsions. I cry out. I hear the yelp, and it doesn’t even sound like me.

  Meanwhile, a blaring tone comes from a speaker somewhere in the room.

  “Is that a fire alarm?” I manage to ask as Barney approaches. “Shouldn’t we exit the building?”

  “It’s nothing to worry about, sir,” Adam says as he maneuvers around me, placing my arms in a stronghold.

  “I’m serious,” I say. “We should get outside. Don’t you hear that alarm?”

  “It’s okay. I promise,” Barney says as he reaches my neck and inserts the needle. “You can relax.”

  In the remaining seconds before I black out, I cry. I don’t try to hide it. For all I know, I’ll burn up in the fire, unconscious on the floor as everyone evacuates. These guys might not bother to save me. I weep long and loud, letting out a fraction of the anguish that has built up inside of me.

  “Most of all,” I muse, “I want to be the hero in my own story.”

  I see compassion reflected in the deep pools of Barney’s eyes. And then, again, everything goes black.

  3

  If It’s Meant to Be

  My subconscious mind travels. It has virtually no bounds. My waking consciousness may be temporarily offline, but that’s only a part of me. I’m coming to understand the dichotomy more and more every day.

  I once heard a spiritual teacher named Gary Zukav describe our mortal lives as time spent at the Earth School, where we return again and again to learn lessons and advance. He says that our conscious minds are but a small part of our souls, as if the bit of us we think we know most intimately is equivalent to a mere cup of water taken from an ocean that represents the true scope of our being. It sounded plausible at the time, even though I didn’t give it too much serious thought. Now it seems like a certainty.

  I have my mother-in-law to thank for helping to ease me into new understandings. In fact, she’s the one who turned me on to Gary Zukav in the first place.

  Marjorie Dyer is an old hippie who is more than comfortable with matters we humans tend to shy away from. She faces them head on, as if she tends the portals between our world and whatever else is out there. She doesn’t claim to have all the answers. And she doesn’t mind not knowing. She faces the unknown with a brave face and an open heart. I’m grateful that she has touched my life. Even more so, I’m grateful that she’s such a good mother to my beloved Ali and a good grandmother to our precious boys. Between her and Roddy, we’re doubly blessed.

  Right now, I know that my body is resting. Medical personnel are tending to it. But another part of me is awake and alert. I can see my body in the hospital bed. I’m floating above it, much like I’ve floated above the scenes from Ancient Greece in my memories. I’ve had enough experience with those memories that I can steer them now. I can ask a question, and I usually get an answer. It typically washes over me in a knowing that goes beyond speech and language.

  As I float above my mortal body in the hospital room, I decide that I might as well go back and dip into those ancient memories once again. They’re interesting. Definitely more interesting than watching my body stuck in a bed. And maybe I can learn something useful. There is still a lot of mystery left to solve if I want to settle the score from Ancient Greece and save my family once and for all. I need to connect the dots and make sense of the fragments of information that have been revealed to me.

  So, I go. I make a move that’s like closing my eyes, even though I’m not in a physical state. The motion feels familiar, and I let myself do what seems natural. Soon, I feel almost sucked towards a place and time, as if a vacuum has pulled me through a tube. I wonder if experiences like mine have inspired science fiction. Or maybe it’s vice versa. Maybe I’m projecting things I’ve seen in movies and television onto my experience of this. Either way, I see the brilliant white light and I’m there.

  In an instant, I can see the familiar island of Ithaki below me. It’s become such a part of my memory and understanding now that it feels like a home. Not my only home, but certainly one of them. I gaze down at the landscape and feel an affection for the rocky cliffs, the deep blue sea, and the sun drenched meadows. At this point, I have pleasant memories from all over the island. I have friends and loved ones who lived here with me. This little part of the big, wide world is ours. It holds a special place.

  The thought causes me to consider how special this little island probably is to people from other periods of time, too. I lived here in ancient times, thousands of years ago. Every century, decade, and year since has brought new life to Ithaki. Countless human souls have called this place home. Even in modern times, the island bustles with a healthy population. I haven’t visited in my current lifetime, but I’d like to. Once Ali is better and we get Ethan and Liam home safely, we should take a trip. Before Roddy… I mean, well, while Roddy is still with us.

  I haven’t let myself think about it in a while, but I’m worried about Roddy. His colon cancer seems serious, especially because he has delayed treatment to help take care of Ali and the boys while I’m in the Middle East. I couldn’t refuse his offer because we needed his help. It’s literally life and death. He’s the only one I trust in mine and Liam’s absence to give his all to protect them. Like he said, it’s his family, too. Ali is his daughter. He loves her dearly. And he feels the same for our boys. I know he does. It hurts my heart to know that he’s sick. I hate the thought of his body failing him before he’s ready to move on.

  Apparently, my mind has guided me right to Roddy in this ancient memory. I see the Greek man I have come to recognize as him in the scene below me, his tall, broad body appearing as big and strong as ever. I’m there, too. We’re grooming the horses again on a dewy morning. Relaxing into the familiarity of the scene, I join my Greek form, quickly recalling its youthful vigor and musculature. My horse is beside me, her rich, chestnut brown hair and her silky black tail and mane shining in the sun. I breath deeply, smelling the horses and the moisture on the grass. I listen to the clanking of metal and the unmistakable sound of footsteps as the other soldiers move around dutifully. I sink deeper into the experience and notice the birds chirping zealously in the distance. It feels good to be back.

  Ancient Greek Roddy sees me and flashes his big, warm smile. I’m reminded that we’re old friends. His welcome makes me happy. He begins to whistle as he brushes his magnificent black horse. I have the overwhelming urge to walk over and hug him, though I don't think that would be socially acceptable in the middle of this scene. I resist. Maybe I’ll get a chance to hug him in private later. I’d like that. I could use the comfort right now. It’s lonely being in Afghanistan, so far away f
rom everyone I love. Seeing Roddy here now reminds me that we’re always connected to our loved ones, even when our physical bodies have to be apart.

  Leo is here, too. He sticks close to me because I’m mentoring him. He’s younger, keen to do good but still inexperienced. I feel much the same way I did the last time I remembered this scene. I’m proud of Leo for his dedication to becoming a good soldier. And I’m honored that he trusted me to teach him the ropes. Most of all, I’m honored that he chose to be my little boy in our modern lifetime. I hope I can live up to his faith in me.

  So far, everything seems the same as my previous memory of this day. I wonder why I’m back in the exact same moment. This is the first time I’ve reentered my Greek life at precisely the same spot as I did once before. That can’t be an accident. There must be something I didn’t absorb. I must be back to review it again. Or to try once more to understand the points I’m confused about. Willing to accept whatever lessons lie ahead of me, I move through the motions, brushing my horse and participating in what’s happening around me. We’re preparing for a mission.

  I decide to try asking my subconscious mind a question. I asked the same question last time and didn’t get an answer. Maybe this go around will be different. I think it to myself as I ask whether or not Mom and Dad from my modern life were romantically involved here in Ancient Greece. I know that Roddy and Marjorie were a couple, just like they are in our current lifetime. But there is mystery surrounding the Greek relationship between my modern-day parents. Mom was in the higher-class governing council. And dad was a medicine man who lived in the village outside of the city. When my subconscious mind wouldn’t divulge the information last time, it made me all the more curious to find out. Maybe those answers provide clues about the bigger picture. I wish Joe was here with me now to help me delve deeper. His guidance that evening on the dock was very helpful.

  When I ask, I’m met with the same block as last time. My subconscious mind won’t budge. The answer isn’t going to come easily, so I move to Roddy. That’s what my awareness seems to want to focus on, so I go with it. Just like last time. This feels like a strange deja vu. I wouldn’t have imagined deja vu in a past life memory. That’s almost like the movie Inception, with layers upon layers of realities. I decide not to focus too much on the logistics because they can be overwhelming. I set my sights on Roddy and place my full attention there. I move towards him, standing just feet away.

  As I look at Roddy, the sky turns dark and foreboding around us. I instantly understand that we’re going back to the same scene he showed me last time. There must be more to learn. More to see. We’re going back to the raid of the village, far from Ithaki. Another swooshing, sucking motion sweeps me away and in a flash, we’re there again. I see the horrible images of destruction, fire, and death. Frightened people scream and plead for their lives in the distance. We’ve come to destroy this village. The realization makes me just as sick now as it did the first time I remembered it. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be part of such ugliness, but my duty as a soldier compels me to stand my ground and follow my leader. Roddy is my leader here in the field, but the orders came from higher ups in the body that governs our city. The very same council that Mom and Joe sit on. I again pick up on Roddy’s feelings. Behind his stoic demeanor, he doesn’t want this any more than I do.

  Oh, Roddy. What is it you’re trying to show me?

  I think the question as mayhem ensues all around us. I want to know. My regression was interrupted last time by the car alarm being set off in front of our Lake Tahoe rental house. This go around, my physical body is sedated in a hospital bed in Afghanistan. Presumably, I have more space to explore these ancient times and to find out what prompted this despicable scene. I have a sneaking suspicion that whatever led to this raid set off a chain of events that lasted far into the future. Perhaps it even lasted into our modern lifetime. Perhaps this is the reason that Clive and his associates came after Ali and Ethan. Perhaps it’s even connected to the terrorists in Syria having addresses and pictures of mine and Liam’s houses. There has to be some reason for all of this. It can’t be just a coincidence. This is too big, too powerful, and too heartbreaking to be a coincidence. If I can somehow figure it out, I can save us. Maybe. At least, I sure hope so.

  Greek Roddy turns to face me and nods knowingly. As he does, it feels like a package of new information is sent to my mind, almost like digital content being transmitted by Bluetooth. Only it isn’t exactly invisible or empty. I can feel the bundle of energy as an entity all its own. The transfer is palpable, full with answers. I only need to open the package up and see what’s inside.

  I’m hesitant. I want to know. I need to know. But I’m not sure things will ever be the same once I do. They say ignorance is bliss. I’ve never agreed more. Knowing that I can’t avoid moving forward, I steel myself and relax into the download. I allow the bundle of energy to unfold in my mind’s eye. I see flickers of imagery, as if I’m scrolling quickly through a massive photo album. I back away from it and let the scenes swim by until one strikes a chord.

  It’s Isabel Madera. She’s in Ali’s bedroom. I recognize the elegant architecture and decor. This scene is from before Ali gave birth to Ethan and was sent out of the city. It’s during the period when Ali, Isabel, and I enjoyed each other sexually without a care in the world. That is, other than the stress of sneaking around behind the backs of Ali’s overbearing handlers. She wasn’t supposed to be cavorting with the likes of me. Truth be told, Isabel would have been seen as a more suitable lover for Ali, had we been found out.

  Remembering the physical pleasure of the two lovely ladies, I jump into the scene enthusiastically. I look forward to experiencing another threesome. Sexual pleasure is one of the delicacies of the human experience. Just like other pleasures of the physical senses, sexusal stimulation makes me feel alive. I need to feel alive.

  I’m standing beside Ali’s bed, my Greek manhood swollen with desire. It’s hard as a rock. I can feel the smooth floor underneath my feet and the cool, dry air in the room. It all feels gloriously familiar. Part of me wishes I could stay here in this room forever. It would make for quite the sweet landing spot in the cosmos. Ali is horizontal, a scant covering strewn haphazardly around her midsection. Her knees are up and her legs are spread wide, her heels tucked tightly against her buttocks. Her long hair is spread around her shoulders on the bed, making her look like an angel wearing intricate wings. Her breasts are exposed, and her firm nipples look so delicious I can practically taste them even though I’m watching from a few feet away. Isabel is naked, her dark hair falling artfully against her muscular, petite figure. She’s shorter than Ali in our Greek lifetime, but she’s no less sensual. She has her head buried between Ali’s legs, her lips and tongue moving ferociously.

  I’ve always preferred Ali best of all. She’s my number one. But I enjoy these lovemaking sessions with Isobel. The three of us have an undeniable chemistry. Here in Ancient Greece, threesomes aren’t the taboo that they are in modern America. We enjoyed a freer, more sexually expression culture. Isabel was the perfect addition to mine and Ali’s coupling. She knew how to enhance our physical experience in ways I wouldn’t have dreamed possible. I remember it crystal clearly. I was incredibly turned on by Isabel, by gazing at her trim figure, touching her soft, taut skin, and tasting her moist juices. She’s enticing as I look at her now, while she’s busy making my Ali wild with pleasure.

  Ali stops wiggling long enough to notice me standing nearby. She places a hand on Isabel’s sexy head, asking her to pause for a moment. Isabel does as Ali wishes, lifting her gaze and looking at me expectantly. Her lips are wet and slippery. I want nothing more than to join her for a taste.

  I step forward and climb into the bed, positioning myself beside Isabel at Ali’s opening. I dig in, wrapping my lips tightly around Ali’s throbbing folds and moving my tongue inside. Ali moans with pleasure. I love that moan. Isabel slides underneath me, then presses her naked bo
dy against mine. My firm rod is ready and willing, so she shimmies on top of it, taking me deep inside of her. I practically burst with pleasure right then and there, but I force myself to wait. This is too good to let it come to an end so soon. I allow myself to get carried away, thrusting inside Isabel as I devour Ali with my mouth.

  The three of us fall into a rhythm, and I lift one hand up to caress Ali’s breast as I pump. We heave and hoist together until all three of us reach levels of gratification that are hard to describe in words. It feels like we transcend our physical forms and share a spiritual experience until finally, I can’t hold it in anymore. I release my load into Isobel, pushing inside as far as I can against her. The liquid comes out of me in jerks, filling Isobel to the brim. When I open my eyes and look at Ali, she’s beaming. She likes seeing me happy. I move my tongue in just the way Ali likes it best as I finish her off, Isobel shaking blissfully below. When we’re all satisfied, we throw ourselves face up beside each other on the bed, smiling and breathing heavily from the exertion. It feels fantastic. I can’t help but wonder if modern-day Ali or Isobel remember any of this.

  Before I can spend additional time in the scene, it shifts. I’m forced forward, whether I like it or not. Images spin in front of me until a new one appears. It’s Isobel again. She’s standing on the beach at the edge of our island, facing the water. It’s the same beach Ali and I have spent so much time on. I remember the two of us enjoying each other here. At least once, I remember Isabel being here with us, too. The water is both crystal clear and a brilliant blue at the same time. I don’t remember what it’s called, but this beach is one of my very favorite places.