“Yes.”
“Okay,” he said the word, with a slow release of breath. He certainly didn’t sound enthusiastic. He sounded like someone who knew they’d just lost an argument.
“Well then, there’s some more things we need to talk about. Like I said, typically you’d already be going through your assessment right now. It always helps. It changes your perspective on everything and explains it in a way that leaves you with absolutely no doubt that things are happening exactly as they should. But you’re not taking that route.
Think of it this way. You’ve just spent an entire lifetime swimming across a vast ocean. And after this exhausting journey, you reach your goal. You’ve made it to the other side. And on the other side, this amazing island waits for you. A perfect paradise. Here you are, ready to walk out on land, finally out of the ocean, away from the choking salt, the sharks, the storms and the pain. But instead of stepping out onto the land, you’re choosing to turn right around and swim back. Does that make sense?”
“Yes.”
“Only in extraordinary situations would we allow someone to do this. Only when an attachment is so great that a person is literally paralyzed and cannot move on. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re absolutely certain that you want to get back in and keep swimming?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I can make this happen for you.”
Her eyes searched his and dug in deep.
“How will I find him?”
His heart ached for her. He wanted to set the rules aside, throw her over his shoulder and carry her into the assessment hall. She was suffering for nothing.
“Well, I told you what the chances were. Think about it. You’ll be born as a puppy into any number of situations, good or bad. You’ll have to grow up a little. But I would imagine, at some point, your dog GPS will kick in. They all have it. I’m sure you know. A dog can track down his owner from great distances. I’d be willing to bet yours will be pretty extraordinary. But even if you find him, Grace, he won’t know it’s you. And you won’t understand why you love him so much.”
“I get it.”
“Okay, so let’s talk about how this works. Transference, or the process of moving in and out of life on Earth, well, that’s always been difficult for you, Grace. You are brave, certainly, but the moment of transference, for you, brings with it a pretty intense panic. So we’ve developed a way to help you with that problem. Actually, it was your own suggestion. You just don’t remember right now, because you haven’t” –
“I know, had my assessment.”
“Right.”
“So why do I have such a hard time with it?”
“Well Grace, you are an immense concentration of energy and light. And when you move on, you’ll understand that with that state of being comes incredible freedom. Freedom in a way not truly understood by the human mind. And you absolutely love it, Grace. That pure state of being is where you belong. Some people handle transference just fine, but you’ve always struggled with it.”
He moved his hands into the air and spread them wide to emphasize his next point.
“Imagine this immense energy, this mass of light being condensed in a pretty forceful way, so that all that energy is packed down and inserted into a teeny, tiny little seedling of life. It’s enough to make some souls panic. That’s what it does to you. So at your suggestion, we developed a way to make the transition a little easier for you. It’s not the end-all solution, but it helps.
When you leave my office, you’re going to head back the same exact way you came. You’re going to walk all the way back to the end of the corridor, to the door facing mine on the opposite end. You’ll open the door and step inside. Now, you’ll figure out pretty quickly that what you’ll be experiencing through that door will only be an illusion.”
She looked up at him, questions in her eyes. She didn’t want to be fooled.
“Trust me, Grace. Please. You’re just going to have to. I’m not trying to trick you. Walk through the door and let yourself relax. Whatever you experience in that room is designed to bring you into a relaxed state. No, it isn’t real, but that’s okay. Give in to it. Don’t fight it. If you can let yourself be drawn into the experience to the point of complete relaxation, you’ll go through transference.”
It was crazy, just crazy. So why then did it also make so much sense? Everything he’d said make perfect sense.
“Okay, I understand.” Then after a pause, “Will I come back here after?”
“Yes. There’s no rulebook for this, Grace. I can’t give you advice, because you won’t remember it. You won’t have the capacity to remember it while you’re there. But I’ll be waiting for you.”
She nodded. There was comfort in that, in knowing that Gabe would be here.
“Grace, Earth is a difficult place. It just is. It’s one of the toughest places to learn. I mean, you know it. People are downright dreadful to each other. Of course, not everybody. But plenty are. And the ones that are unkind to each other can be a whole lot more unkind to animals. So I don’t want this for you. Not for a minute. But I also know that the essence of who you are is eternal. So I can let you go, because you’ll be back. Go and do what you need to do. I’ll be waiting.”
Again, his sincerity was without question.
“Thank you, Gabe.”
“You’re welcome, Grace. Take your time. Head down when you’re ready.
“Okay.”
* * * * *
She stood outside Gabe’s office door, looking back in the direction she’d come from earlier. It seemed so long ago that she had walked this way, not quite stepping onto the island. And now she would be swimming back.
The long corridor stretched out before her, and at the facing end was the door to transference, as Gabe had described. She walked towards it, noticing that all the doors along the corridor were still tightly closed. Briefly, she wondered where they led.
From behind her, Gabe stood in the doorway of his office and watched her go. Every soul, every precious soul, is endowed with the ultimate, eternal right of free will. And that trumped everything.
She’d only returned for the tiniest fraction of eternity before she was leaving again. Grace’s choice was a magnificent example of the soul’s determination to choose its own path, and for that, Gabe’s heart swelled with pride. And yet as he watched her leave, that pride was accompanied by an equal measure of sadness. It was too soon.
Grace approached the closed door and found a glowing light beaming from around its cracks and at the bottom. It wasn’t the white light. It was golden and warm. She reached for the handle and pulled the door open. The warmth encased her as she entered and instantly, the pain was gone.
She sighed in relief, and then took in several deep breaths. It felt good to breathe, even if it wasn’t real. It was an illusion and that was fine. A break from the pain was welcome either way. She expected transference to take place immediately, now that she felt better. But there was more. As her eyes scanned the horizon, she saw a path ahead. And there at its beginning, someone was waiting for her. Luke.
She moved to join him. There was no pain. Only the moment. It was him. He held out a hand and she grasped it tightly. He did not speak to her. For the briefest instant, she remembered that it was just an illusion. But then, she banished the notion. It was Luke. She let the illusion carry her.
He smiled into her face, the sun shining around him. His fingers wrapped around hers and they began to walk. Before them the path became a country road. The dirt beneath their bare feet had the consistency of the softest powder. Each side of the path was lined with trees, all covered in sprays of delicate flowers. What peace! They walked along and from time to time, he would turn to smile at her. And if she could have made it so, they’d have walked like this forever.
The path veered left up ahead and at its end was a lovely cabin. He held her hand as they climbed the stairs of the porch. Inside, the same warmth fil
led the space. A fireplace was to the right, a simple table in the center. And in the back corner on the left was a beautiful four poster bed.
Luke scooped her up as she pressed her face against his neck. It was him. It was him. Gently he laid her out on the bed before joining her. On their sides, they faced one another. He retook her hand and held it to his chest. She felt the rhythm of his heartbeat against the back of her hand. His face was all she needed. To see it again. To see him. She wanted to stay awake, but she couldn’t stop herself. Slowly, slowly, her eyes gave up the fight and she drifted off to sleep.
* * * * *
The terror was indescribable. It was as though she were caught in the midst of a four way vice grip pushing, condensing, pummeling her. There was absolutely no way to fight it, yet she could not give in. Everything within her screamed out at the horrific experience. This was devastating. Beyond anything she’d imagined. There was an underlying terror that she was going to be squeezed right out of existence.
As she felt her energy contract with agonizing potency, she finally understood why Gabe had advised her against this. It was true. She was not good with transference. With force, she was sculpted and reshaped and cut away until all of her energy was reduced to a receptacle just the size of a fertilized egg. Transference was complete.
CHAPTER THREE
Grace was a mutt. A beautiful little mutt, born to a mutt in the storage shed in the backyard of her mother’s owner. The setting was not ideal, but her mother did the best she could. Having gone through the birth of her pups alone, the matted dog washed them with love and cuddled up to them, inviting each to have their first meal. Blind and slow and wet, they searched her for an available space. Exhausted, she spread herself out to provide them access.
Grace was one of six. Six little mutts and a mamma mutt. Gabe had done well. He’d gotten Grace just three blocks from her old street, just three blocks from Luke.
* * * * *
Since the day he’d lost Grace, Luke had been caught in a cycle, accentuated by varying degrees of grief. When he woke on the day of her birth, he rolled over in bed and curled as much as he could, the covers over his head.
He hadn’t wanted to wake up. Sleep was the only reprieve, the only time he wasn’t acutely aware of his desire to end his life. The first few minutes before rising each day were wretched. His stomach was worse in the morning, but it was never good. Tight and knotted, it gave him no peace. He’d already lost twelve pounds. Not that he cared. Barely noticed it really.
Everyone else did, of course. He was rarely left alone by his family, this on the advice of his counselor. It wasn’t exactly a suicide watch. He hadn’t verbalized any intent. But instinctively, everybody knew they had to stay close for a while. He’d been given medication, but didn’t take it unless someone was watching and it couldn’t be avoided. Despite his grief, he didn’t want to take anything that was going to make him stop feeling it. He never wanted to stop feeling it. And if he did, he wanted it only to be because he was gone.
The weeks after Grace’s death had passed for Luke at both an unbearably slow pace and yet too swiftly. He didn’t want the time to pass, because in the strangest and most heartbreaking way, he was moving away from Grace with each passing day. And he wanted to claw his way back. Back to that day. To claw back to it and change it. Make it different. It was the thought he fell asleep to each night. And every morning he curled up again, because it was a new day. And he hated it. He hated every new day.
Still, there were signs here and there of a light at the end of the tunnel. Luke’s father had been over quite a bit. Though he could not as yet be truly consoled at Grace’s death, Luke couldn’t help but notice the striking change in his parents’ interactions. Their shared concern for their son had all but arrested the arguing. Yes, Nancy and James were speaking in normal voices to each other for the first time in years. James had even stayed overnight at times, his mother tiptoeing to the living room couch to cover him while he slept.
And once, James had even coaxed Luke to the backyard to throw the football around. That simple activity gave his parents hope that the worst might be behind them. But the day of Grace’s birth as a pup, Luke seemed to have taken a huge step back. It was just like the first few days again. He didn’t want to leave his bed and he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to eat or have the curtains open. The counselor had said that steps would be taken forward, but that no one should be surprised when the reverse was also true. It was all part of the healing process.
There wasn’t a way to have predicted what a big step back this was. He’d lost all his forward progress. It all felt fresh again. The days passed and he was wretchedly sick all the time. His mother phoned the doctor for advice, although he’d given it to her several times already.
Nancy and James watched their son around the clock. Nancy found herself checking on him as he slept. Not since he was a young child had she done this, looked in on him to be certain he was still breathing.
And during these days, Grace was growing. At first only able to sense the world around her by smell and sound, the fragile little being was safe. She and her siblings were constantly to be found in a mound, huddled together for warmth and comfort. If one of them happened to stray even by only inches, he would cry at the loss of this closeness, to be nudged back into place by his mother.
Grace’s mother cared for her pups as well as any dog ever had. And that was saying a lot, because she was not well cared for herself. A terminally outdoor pet, she was never allowed to enter her owner’s home. There were two large metal bowls on the back step. The dry food provided was in chunks too large for a small dog, but she didn’t know any better, and it was just as well. From time to time, the bowls would remain empty for over a day, and those were the difficult times.
Grace’s mother would perch herself on the back doorstep, peering expectantly toward the inside of the house, in hopes that her owner would notice her. Oddly enough, she never barked. And most times, he would finally see her there. And yes, he would replenish her food. But during the entire course of this dog’s life, she had not known the experience of human contact. There were no pats to the head, no belly rubs, no brushing. Mind you, there was no violent contact, either. In that rawest physical sense, she was not abused, but in every other way, she was grievously deprived.
No one else but her owner could be blamed for the little dog’s pregnancy. The fence to the backyard was not well maintained, allowing her to visit neighboring dogs from time to time, and them to visit her. The winters were not harsh. Chilly, yes, but no snow, so she was able to keep herself warm when she needed to. The shed was used for little else over the years, the owner having seemingly relinquished this to her as her only comfort.
Waking from well a earned nap, the little mother yawned and stretched and freed herself from the latched on pups to relieve herself in the yard. Then she made her way to the metal bowls to replenish herself.
Her owner came to the door just then, the hinges squeaking familiarly as they swung open. She looked up, but offered no real reaction. She had not learned to hope for affection from the man, and so over the years, she’d become a dog of little expectation. The bowls were full and she took her time with her meal. And as she ate, at that moment, her owner took note of the telltale signs, the swollen teats on the little dog, realizing what he should have known weeks before. His dog was nursing pups.
* * * * *
Luke was spending yet another day in the dreary darkness of his room. He was eating more and talking more, his change in mood providing a false sense of relief to his parents. The seemingly renewed road to recovery was a façade. They would never have left him alone if they continued to be concerned about what he might do unsupervised. His parents were still entering his bedroom throughout the day, but the intervals were spreading out, as they slowly relaxed to his progress.
He wasn’t ready to see anybody. Male friends called often in the beginning, but after a while, the frequency slowed to
a trickle. Rebecca came by from time to time, but had never gotten past the threshold of the front door. Luke made it very clear that he didn’t want to talk to anyone. Most days his parents didn’t push it. There was one time when his mother had coaxed him to the door and then nudged him out on the porch to sit with her.
They’d both lost someone they loved. Rebecca knew instinctively that being in Luke’s company was the closest she would ever get to Grace again. She wanted to comfort Luke and at the same time wanted his friendship. Luke caught on rather quickly, but just couldn’t give her what she needed. A friendship with Rebecca would be too painful a reminder. He couldn’t even hug her before he watched her walk away that day.
He blinked away the memory before stooping down on his hands and knees next to the bed, so that he could access the space under the mattress. And there, behind the intentional placement of a seemingly random set of obstacles, he dug out the shoebox. He’d been feigning sleep the last couple times his mother had entered. Now he could hear the distant clanging of pots in the kitchen and his parents talking while she made dinner.
Before he sat down with the box, he went to the door and latched the lock. Then he lowered himself onto his bed and removed the lid. Inside was a collection of mementoes, ranging from the silly notes of children to more serious letters, movie ticket stubs and photographs, each in its own way memorializing his time with Grace. In and amongst them was a pocket knife he’d been given when he’d turned thirteen, sort of a coming of age gift from his father. He removed it and placed it next to him on the bed.
Paradox Love: Paradox Love Book 1 Page 3