You and No Other

by Jane Weiss

  After about a half-hour lying wide-awake, staring at the wall, I turned ever so gently onto my back and glanced over at Jane. There she was, lying wide-awake, staring at the ceiling.

  “You’re not asleep yet, either,” I observed.

  “No, my mind just keeps racing with all sorts of questions.”

  “Mine, too. But we really do need to sleep.”

  “I know. Guess we better keep trying.”

  But there was precious little sleep for either Jane or me that night. When the alarm sounded at 6:00 a.m., both of us were startled awake from barely two hours of deep slumber. I padded off towards the bathroom, and hearing footsteps behind me, turned to find Jane in close formation, following along.

  “Did you need to use the bathroom first?” I asked.

  “Oh, uh, no … I’m not sure where I was going. Guess I’m not awake yet,” Jane chuckled, and stumbled back towards the bedroom.

  I smiled at her sleepy responses and behavior, delighted to be sharing the wake-up experience with her. “I hear Penny in the kitchen, which probably means coffee is ready. Why don’t you go out there and get a cup? By then, I’ll be finished, and you can have the bathroom.” She dutifully turned once again and headed to the kitchen, still wearing the sleepy smile that made her even more endearing.

  Penny, Jane, and I made the two-hour trek to Iowa City without incident, and each of us spent about an hour with psychic Ron Scolastico, asking our most pressing questions and solemnly taking in each word falling from his lips. Each of our sessions was recorded, so on the return trip to Marshalltown, we listened to excerpts from one another’s tapes to discuss together any surprising or confusing information.

  We heard a segment of Penny’s tape first. When she asked Dr. Scolastico, “Can you tell me about my husband, Gene?” he hesitated momentarily before answering that he couldn’t perceive Gene’s energy on Earth any longer, and asking Penny if she knew whether Gene was still alive. Penny said she, too, doubted he was, but asked why he needed to die so young.

  Dr. Scolastico reported that in a previous lifetime, Penny had been treated like property by Gene, which ended in her viciously taking his life. So on another level, Penny and Gene made a soul covenant that in this lifetime, Penny would experience the karma and grief of her husband being taken from her at a young age. Being new to the idea of past-life readings, Penny was deeply disturbed by the thought that she could have harmed Gene in any way, even in a previous life. We all speculated about whether such a thing as karma really existed, but came to no conclusion, other than it provided another possible explanation for a horrific event that defied any sense of logic. Penny said she would need much time to sort through whether she could believe this information and, if so, what it meant to her.

  Next, I pushed my tape into the dashboard tape deck and fumbled with the fast forward and backward buttons to find the reading section about Jane. As planned, I had asked about each of my four children, Brian, my mother and maternal grandmother, my friend Louise who had severed our ten-year friendship, and how I could heal the pain in my lower back. Finally, satisfied that some interesting and useful information had come forth, the moment came to ask the big question: “I would like to know about my relationship with Jane Weiss—anything that would help me to further understand it and its strength and intensity.”

  Through Dr. Scolastico, the guides answered that Jane had much knowledge of my soul through our several past incarnations together, and that we had a bond of love that will endure forever. They stated further that our relationship at this point was one of great importance, as we brought more truth and wisdom and much joy to one another. And that as we attuned together, we could call forth an ability to heal that could be very beneficial to individuals struggling with illness and infirmities.

  Though I knew I needed to transcribe the reading tape and study it for deeper understandings, I was incredibly relieved by what I heard about Jane and me. Contrary to my deepest unspoken fears that our relationship might be “unhealthy,” I heard rather that it was very important. There were no admonitions that it was “unusual” or “too intense for a friendship.” The bottom line seemed to be—at least as expressed by the psychic—that our relationship was a good thing. And the answer Jane received from her guides was similar to mine. So the following day, we headed back to Minneapolis to enjoy the rest of summer, with at least a momentary reprieve that all was well.

  Back in Minneapolis the next Sunday afternoon, I laboriously transcribed the audiotape of my reading, using a hand-held tape player and my Methodist Hospital secretary’s Selectric typewriter. I considered the whole experience, and decided that if I could place any belief in the source of the information as coming from a higher spiritual level, then certainly any concerns I might have had about Jane’s and my relationship were not valid. If there was such a thing as past lives, and I increasingly believed there was, and we had experienced previous lives together, that would explain the unusual closeness I felt to Jane. Wouldn’t it?

  Another View

  By late August 1981 Jane was as close a friend to Felicia as I had been for several years. But Jane’s husband, Charles, in particular, had been concerned about the time Jane was spending with us and away from the family. For Charles to get to know us better, Jane invited Felicia, me, and our spouses for a Saturday evening dinner at their home. Jane said we could bring our kids along, too, but I asked David to babysit with our younger ones, so Brian and I could enjoy time together in adult company. Brian actually seemed to be looking forward to the evening, much to my delight.

  Jane had planned an early dinner so we all could go to a high school production of Bye Bye Birdie. Her oldest son, Michael, had the starring role. We gathered at Jane’s and Charles’s home promptly at 5:30 p.m., and the group easily moved into spirited, lighthearted conversation as we devoured scrumptious hors d’oeuvres of baked stuffed mushroom caps, artichoke cheese dip and crackers, and fresh fruit. I joined Jane in the kitchen to help with last-minute dinner preparations, while Brian, Charles, Felicia, and her husband Richard remained in the living room, talking sports and politics. Jane and I moved together in the kitchen, as if we had been doing that as sisters all our lives. I was aware of how much I enjoyed her closeness and our intertwined work patterns.

  Dinner was a virtual feast of mandarin orange and romaine lettuce salad, Mediterranean chicken, twice-baked potatoes, honey-glazed carrots, and sourdough rolls. I was relieved to have reason to stop eating when Charles announced it was time to leave for the play. Michael convincingly played rock star Birdie, and received a standing ovation at his final bow. After Jane delivered a home-baked and decorated sheet cake backstage for the cast party, we all returned to their house for warm-from-the-oven apple pie, coffee, and more conversation. Everyone seemed to enjoy each other’s company and, by all appearances, the evening was a social success. I wrote in my journal:

  Must note how neat Brian was last night—was so relaxed, talkative, and witty. Has been a long time since I’ve seen that side of him. It was great to watch. I do love that man!

  Jane and Charles walked us to our cars while light bantering continued. Felicia and Richard begged forgiveness for needing to rush off, but said they had early obligations on Sunday. Brian and I thanked host and hostess once again, and were about to climb into the car, when out of nowhere, Charles said, “Well, it looks like my new job change might mean our moving to New York by December.”

  He could have slapped my face for the jolt I felt, and Jane seemed equally surprised. I tried to sound interested, but not overly concerned as I asked clarifying questions. On the way home, I replayed his words a dozen times, still not believing what I heard. Charles said them so easily, casually—almost as if testing my reaction. The following evening, I wrote in my journal:

  Strange, I had never entertained the thought of Jane and me being separated by distance. I’d considered the possibility of one or the other of us withdrawing from the relationship—but never thought about
being separated without choice.

  Talked with Jane today, and she said not to worry about it yet—that it could just be Charles’s way of saying he can take her away if he chooses. And that fit with the way in which he gave me that news last night.

  But I have to start dealing with it. Right now, don’t know how I’d survive Jane’s leaving. It was enough just to miss her at Methodist daily. But the thought of her being halfway across the country is really unbearable. Please, dear God, don’t make me face that challenge.

  While assuring me that Charles might just be letting me know he was still in control, Jane’s phone call the next morning brought far more disturbing news. I could not have been more dumbfounded to learn that as our car pulled away the previous evening, Charles had kissed Jane hard and asked if that’s how I kissed her. The bottom line was that he didn’t want Jane to see me anymore. I was so horrified by this news, I couldn’t even write it in my journal, lest anyone see it.

  The Healing

  A week later, on an unusually chilly evening in early September, a cold wind created strong opposition as I struggled to close the car door and race into Lindee’s for warmth. The St. Louis Park neighborhood restaurant and bar had become a favorite meeting place for Felicia, Jane, and my “spiritual study group” each Wednesday evening. Paul, manager and bartender, glanced up as I blew through the open door and gave his usual—though barely noticeable—nod of recognition. I was flattered he bothered at all, having learned he considered most customers boring and intrusive in his otherwise well-ordered world. Waitress extraordinaire Eileen waved to me from the restaurant section, flashed a broad grin, and announced, “You’re late! They’ve been waiting nearly twenty minutes, and you’ll probably complain your wine’s warm by now!”

  “Yeah, yeah, there you go, giving me grief already, and I just got here,” I shot back to her, making my way over to a booth against the far wall where Jane and Felicia sat. The dinner crowd had mostly cleared out, and we pretty much had the place to ourselves. It was good that Paul and Eileen had taken a liking to us, because we never ordered food—even Lindee’s famous prime rib for $10.99—but Eileen periodically left the lounge to check on us in the restaurant, in case we needed a second glass of wine or cup of coffee. And we’d weasel several free baskets of Goldfish munchies from a reluctant Paul, who chided us for being “the worst paying customers in the joint!”

  I was relieved to see Jane, knowing she’d chosen to slip away for the second evening that week—especially after Charles’s angry inquisition about why she and I continued to spend so much time together.

  When Jane had phoned the morning after dinner at their house and relayed their disagreement, I was stunned—actually mortified—by Charles’s unveiled accusations. Absolutely nothing had transpired between Jane and me of the nature Charles challenged. Fearing he might become even more irrationally suspicious of our being together, I recommended we not meet in study group that evening. Jane and I had nothing to hide, and perhaps Charles’s fears would be allayed if we simply spent less time together. Jane was silent in response to my words. Though desperately wanting to take them back, I knew I needed to stick by them to affirm to myself the absurdity of Charles’s allegations. When finally Jane spoke, I dreaded she might agree with my suggestion. Instead she said, “I’ve worked hard to arrive at a place where I feel entitled to make my own decisions. I can’t let Charles continue to direct my life, especially when he does that out of his own fear. My staying home tonight won’t change where he is, and I really want to see you and Felicia. So let’s keep our date.”

  Now, remembering this conversation, I slipped into the booth on Jane’s side of the table, never more grateful to see her beautiful smile and warm brown eyes.

  “Hi, you,” she said in welcome, reaching for my hand.

  “Yes, it is about time you showed up,” Felicia admonished, in keeping with Eileen’s ribbing.

  “Hi, you—and you, too,” I added, turning to Felicia.

  The evening’s conversation was more intense than usual, as together we processed Jane’s decision to continue to stand her ground in the face of Charles’s harshness. I admired her newfound courage, and wondered if I could be so steadfast in my convictions.

  Felicia commended Jane, and said this could be a new dawning in Jane and Charles’s relationship—a relationship forged with equality, respectfulness, and recognition of the beauty of both their souls. But, Felicia cautioned, Jane must hold firm in making her own decisions, just as she had done that evening.

  We shared our respective interpretations of the week’s spiritual reading assignments, and more lively conversation followed. Being next to Jane was invigorating and stimulating, no matter the subject under discussion. I was not looking forward to evening’s end, but shortly after midnight, Felicia begged off, saying she was exhausted and needed to head home. Jane concurred—a bit too readily, it seemed to me—so I had no choice but to agree to make it an “early” night as well. Eileen and Paul released us back to our private lives, just as they had greeted us upon arrival—Eileen with hearty laughter, and Paul with a “here’s your hat, what’s your hurry” wave.

  We did our now-familiar three-way hug in the parking lot before we climbed into our separate cars. Felicia took the first left turn about a block beyond Lindee’s driveway, putting her directly into her apartment complex parking area. Jane’s car followed mine as we maneuvered onto Highway 7 east towards Highway 100. The headlights of Jane’s Chevy station wagon in my rearview mirror kept alive the warm vibration of our togetherness over the last three hours. If I drove slowly enough, I could extend her close proximity to me another five minutes before turning off Highway 100 South onto the Fiftieth Street exit, while she continued on to the 494 interchange. I wished I could also see her face in the rearview mirror, but had to be content remembering the soft engaging looks I had sought throughout the evening. I wondered how it would feel not to put deadlines on our time together—to not break away from one another until we were ready. I wondered if that would ever be.

  Nearing the Fiftieth Street exit, I lightened pressure on the accelerator and flipped on the right turn signal to indicate our parting of ways for the evening. My eyes stayed peeled on the rearview mirror, searching for the right moment to wave as her car sped past the ramp. But this time, the headlights stayed close behind as her car slowed to make the exit ramp turn behind me. What was going on? Had I mistakenly picked up something of hers? Was there something else she wanted to say? There was a quickening low in my belly, and butterflies suddenly stirred in my stomach.

  Parking wasn’t allowed on Fiftieth Street, so I made the first available right turn into a branch library parking lot, located immediately next to the Edina Police Station. I drove around the building to the rear and parked the car. Jane pulled up next to me, and within seconds, was out of her car and into mine. We searched one another’s faces through the dim glow of a nearby streetlight. With no words spoken, we fell into a hungry embrace, cheek to cheek.

  Gently swaying back and forth, we held one another tightly, caught up in the luscious moments of this new physical intimacy. I couldn’t remember when I last felt these feelings, but they had only occurred within the excitement of a relationship with a male. I vacillated between wanting more of the feelings, and needing to flee. Thoughts raced wildly through my mind, and fears began to loom regarding what was happening.

  When we could break our embrace at last and move far enough apart to gaze at each other’s faces, Jane said with shaky voice, “This is really something. I wouldn’t have guessed all that was inside.”

  “This is kind of freaking me out. What’s going on?” I managed to ask.

  We sat in silence for what seemed an eternity, hands gently clasped and eyes probing the other’s, with hopes that some explanation would be forthcoming to restore peace to chaotic thoughts.

  Finally, a smile spread across Jane’s quivering lips and she exclaimed, “I know what’s happening! Remember when the psy
chic said we both have strong healing powers, and that when we join intentions together, the vibration is immensely strengthened, and we could bring healing to people we focus on? That must have been what was building, but we didn’t send it anywhere. No wonder we feel like we might explode!”

  “I don’t know about this, Jane. I just don’t know.”

  “Let’s try an experiment. Let’s hold hands as the psychic instructed, get centered and focus on someone we know in serious need of healing. We could start with my dad. He’s still in the hospital from his liver failure.”

  “All right,” I acquiesced. “Anything to sort things out.”

  We sat silently for several minutes, hands joined, dutifully sending healing energy from Edina, Minnesota, to Martin Weiss in the intensive care unit of Reading Hospital in Reading, Pennsylvania. When the time felt right to finish, we released hands, took some deep breaths, and sat in silence. Feeling quieted and nearly free of tension, there was great relief for both of us to have stumbled on a resolution of such intense feelings.

  Suddenly remembering we were parked next to a police department, I wondered aloud how we might explain our actions at this hour to an officer, should one appear. Grateful that had not occurred, we quickly decided to head homeward. With a brief hug, Jane was out the door, into her car, and heading back towards Highway 100. Still musing about all that had transpired I meandered down Fiftieth Street the few blocks to my home, wishing the drive could have been much longer.