In This Life or the Next

by Kallysten

  "I'm saying,” Marc murmured as she paged through the album, “that all these people in my head, they belong to the past lives I lived before this one."

  Stunned, Tania looked up from the pictures, trying to read onto his features whether he was playing with her or being sincere.

  "Past ... you mean, like reincarnation?"

  He nodded, and returned the album to the table when she handed it back to him.

  "Exactly like reincarnation. All of these men on your list were me. And all of the women..."

  He didn't finish, leaving the sentence in the air as though to see whether Tania could complete it. She did, with one incredulous word.

  "Me."

  It was, at the same time, a perfect explanation to what she had been experiencing, yet so incredible that part of her refused to believe. She knew, though. Deep down, she believed.

  "But you knew that already,” Marc said gently, smiling at her hopefully. “You guessed it, didn't you? When you first saw me, you had this look in your eyes, like you recognized me."

  Still struggling to absorb what she had just learned, Tania answered without thinking. “I ... I had just seen ... on the island. Chris. He had the same eyes as you."

  Marc smiled and started raising a hand toward her face, stopping himself halfway through and giving a small apologetic shrug.

  "And you have Lauren's. It's funny, it doesn't matter the color, there's always something there, like a spark or a fire and ... I would have recognized you anywhere. I've been looking for you all my life. Even before I knew, I was looking for you in all the women I met. And when I did find you, it was like all my prayers had been answered."

  "You don't even know me,” she protested, immediately wishing her voice hadn't sounded so weak.

  "I don't,” she was surprised to hear him acquiesce. “But at the same time, I do. I've loved you before, too many times to count, and now you're here and I..."

  She knew what he was about to say, but she couldn't hear it, not like that, and she cut in abruptly. “Don't say it."

  "Why not? It's true."

  "Don't, please."

  "As you wish,” he said, tilting his head to one side for a second before looking straight at her. “But I have to say this. I do believe in destiny and mine is right in front of me."

  She didn't know how to answer him; she wasn't even sure there was a possible answer. The point was moot however, because as her heart continued fluttering like a caged wild bird, Marc leaned toward her and, with a soft hand cupping her cheek, he kissed her. This time, she let him.

  It was different from any kiss she had ever experienced. But at the same time, it was the same as countless others. He barely brushed his lips to hers at first, drawing back for a second to look into her eyes, then leaning in again for a more insistent touch of his mouth upon hers even as his thumb stroked her cheek. The gesture was one he had done so many times before—not him, not really him, but still him just the same—and she parted her lips when his tongue ran along them with the barest pressure.

  For a second, or maybe an hour, she wasn't really Tania anymore; instead, she was the woman she had dreamed about, Lauren, and even the other ones, the ones she had only had glimpses of by looking at the paintings. She was all of them, and all of them had been so much in love, so desperate for yet another touch of him, that it didn't really matter anymore what his name was now.

  Reality came crashing down on her again when he slowly pulled back and looked at her with all the joy of the world in his eyes. He was happy, she instinctively understood, because he, too, had been someone else while he had kissed her. But it wasn't real. They weren't Lauren and Chris, or Lizzie and Steven, or any of the others. The reality was that they were Tania and Marc. The reality was that she was married to someone else.

  Alex.

  The wave of guilt submerged everything.

  "I ... I have to go,” she stammered, feeling a little lost, wishing at the same time that she had never come and that she hadn't needed to leave.

  "No, please, don't,” Marc instantly pleaded, his thumb still stroking her cheek as he leaned forward for another kiss. She took a stumbling step back and escaped both his hand and mouth; and immediately wished she hadn't.

  "I'm sorry,” she murmured, taking a few more steps backward as though distance would be the answer. “I shouldn't have come, I..."

  "Don't say that! You had to come, don't you see? You had to know, and now you do, and..."

  She shook her head and turned her back on him in an ineffectual attempt at shutting his words out. “I really have to go,” she repeated, more to herself than to him now, and directed her steps toward the front door. He caught her just as she was turning the doorknob, and his hand covered hers and stilled it.

  "Tania? You'll be back, won't you?"

  There was so much fear in his voice that she impulsively looked back at his face; when she did, the words she had been about to say changed drastically, and instead of saying she could never see him again, she nodded and breathed: “I will."

  His face relaxed with an almost, not quite there smile. “Promise?"

  "I promise.” And with that, he pulled his hand away and she was able to open the door and walk out, even as the dozens of voices inside her, Lauren's the loudest, were shouting that she was making a terrible mistake.

  * * * *

  Her first visit to Marc had meant nothing; and although she had felt guilty, Tania had managed not to tell Alex about it. This time, though, she couldn't keep quiet. She had to tell him. She had to tell him everything.

  She started with the first vision she had had at the gallery, told him about all the others that had followed, and ended with her visit to Marc, his explanation, and the kiss they had shared. Alex remained quiet throughout her confession, but she could see his face slowly hardening with the anger and hurt he wasn't expressing. Finally, she was done, and she waited for his reaction. It wasn't anything she had expected.

  "Why are you telling me?” he asked, his voice cold as ice.

  "Why?” she repeated, frowning lightly. “Because you're my husband, and I'm sorry..."

  "You're sorry about kissing him,” he interrupted her, “or you're sorry about marrying me? Because that's what all this is about, isn't it? You and him, eternal lovers through the ages? Where does that leave me?"

  She shook her head; she hadn't said anything of the sort, hadn't even thought it.

  "Alex, that's not what I meant, really. I love you..."

  He snorted and, standing from the couch, started pacing.

  "You love me, and yet you went and kissed a man you barely even know."

  "It's not like I wanted it to happen,” she pleaded. “I just wanted answers, and it was all so overwhelming. It just happened."

  "It just happened. Sure. And what happens next then?"

  Despite the coldness of his voice, she could hear his fear behind the words, and wished she had been able to appease it, but when she reached for his hand, he stepped back.

  "Are you going back to him?” he insisted “Are you leaving me? Or are you going to tell him he can jerk off to his memories because that's all he's getting this time around?"

  In truth, she hadn't thought that far. She had needed to tell Alex about it all, and been certain that simply talking about it would help her see more clearly. Now though, she realized all she had done was to stir up already muddy waters. She loved Alex, she always would, but what about the connection she shared with Marc?

  "I ... I don't know,” she finally admitted, dropping her eyes to her clasped hands.

  For long second, Alex remained quiet. When she chanced a look up at him, she felt like a knife was twisting into her gut as she saw that all the anger seemed to have left him; shoulders slumped, he appeared defeated. Although she was sure she had never seen him look like this, the sight awakened a strange sense of déjà vu in her. Someone else had looked at her like this before—at her, or at one of the other women that inhabited her memories.<
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  "You don't know,” he murmured. “I guess that answers my question then."

  Before she could say or do anything, he had walked out of the house, and Tania was left to stare at the closed door behind which he had disappeared and wonder if she had just lost him. Numb and cold, she curled up on the sofa, too many thoughts and feelings conflicting in her mind for her to be able to think or even cry. She was mentally exhausted and eventually fell asleep right where she was; through her dream, she remembered why Alex's crushed look had seemed so familiar.

  * * * *

  The sun was almost at its peak, and Lauren had just finished preparing lunch and set the table for two. She still ached every time she did, because she would always forget, for a few minutes, that Christopher wouldn't be sitting down with her. She had grown fond of John, during the past months, and she knew, even if he had never said anything or even hinted at his feelings, that he was more than fond where she was concerned. But he was her friend and her employee, and he would never be anything else.

  Wiping her hands on her apron, Lauren stepped onto the front porch to see if she could spot John. He was usually pretty good at coming back to the farm in time for lunch. There he was, down the road, approaching fast and...

  It wasn't John. The figure was too far still to distinguish clearly, but Lauren's heart leapt in her chest and she simply knew that it was her husband coming back to her. She knew it with the same faith she had had when saying ‘I do', with the same absolute certainty she had always had about how much she loved Chris, and how much he loved her in return.

  Before she knew it, she was already running, the tears clinging to her eyelashes as she came closer with each stride to the man she had missed for so long. He started running too when he saw her, and they were together that much sooner. Jumping into his open arms, she laughed and cried at the same time.

  "Chris!"

  She repeated his name over and over until he silenced her with a devouring kiss that seemed to try to make up for almost two years of absence.

  "Never again,” she gasped when he let go of her lips but held her even more tightly to him. “I'm not letting you leave ever again. Do you hear me?"

  "Never,” he agreed, burying his face into the crook of her neck and breathing in deeply. “I swear to you, Lauren, I'm not going anywhere without you again until the day I die."

  She could hear the tears in his voice, could feel them falling against her neck and rolling down her skin, and somehow his crying made his words that much stronger. She hadn't been the only one to hurt and feel so desperately lonely; he had too, and he wouldn't let it happen again.

  In between tears and laughs, she pulled him toward the house, having so much to tell him and yet loathing to do anything more than enjoy his presence at her side. Just as they arrived at the front porch, she noticed John at the side of the house; he had taken his shirt off and was using a bucket of water he had pulled from the well earlier that morning to clean up before lunch, as he did every day. Lauren tensed, worried suddenly at what Chris might think; she didn't want him to get the wrong idea. But before she could say a word, Chris had led their steps toward John, his arm still firmly holding her waist.

  "Hello. You must be John."

  John appeared a little taken aback by the address, but he took Chris’ proffered hand and shook it, grimacing and giving a smile of excuse when he realized it was dripping wet. He hurriedly slipped on his shirt and passed a hand through his hair.

  "That's me,” he confirmed. “And you must be Christopher. It is an honor to meet you after having heard so much about you."

  Lauren had never heard John's voice be so flat, and it almost felt as though it wasn't him.

  "I am glad you're back,” he continued after a second. “I've been meaning to leave and return back west for a while. Now I finally can."

  And with barely a few words more, he gathered his possessions around the farm, declining to have lunch with Chris and Lauren, claiming he wasn't hungry. Lauren was stunned to see him rush away; he barely said goodbye to her, thanking her for having given him work for all these months. The look on his face, as though he had just lost everything he had, was painful, but before she could say a word, he was gone.

  At the time, she didn't think about it too much, she was too overjoyed to have Chris back in her arms to worry about anything else. After a few days though, when she had a moment to think about it, she understood why John might have wanted to leave so fast rather than see her so happy with another man, and she felt a little guilty for never having told him what his friendship had meant to her during those long, hard months.

  * * * *

  Tania slowly emerged from sleep and from her latest dream, but she kept her eyes closed, unwilling to face a depressing reality in which everything was even more complicated now. It wasn't just about Lauren and Chris, or her and Marc. Alex had a role in all of this, because not only he was her husband, here and now, and she loved him, but also because he had been there before, in those previous lives, in love with Lauren, and with Anna; or at least, she thought he had been. Even if he didn't remember, she felt even worse now about telling him she didn't know what she would do; he had kept his love for her quiet before, because she had been in love and married to someone else. He deserved better than to be left alone again, and...

  "You're my wife."

  The words were quiet, but they surprised Tania as much as a shout would have; she had thought she was alone, and she let out a small, surprised cry as she sat up. Alex had come back while she was sleeping, and he was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, inches from her, looking at her intently.

  "I don't care that you were married to him before,” he continued when she just looked at him and tried to understand what his point was. “I never asked you if you had boyfriends or lovers before we met, because that was the past and all that I was interested in was your present, and maybe our future. This is the same. Even if you loved him before, you don't know him now, so you can't possibly love the person he is today. But you've said you love me, and..."

  She couldn't remain quiet any longer, not when his voice was taking such a desperate tone.

  "I do love you,” she assured him, reaching for his hand and clasping it in hers.

  "Then I'm going to fight,” he said, determined. “I can't give up on you, on what we have together, simply because of what may have happened before we were even born."

  The way he said it, everything suddenly seemed clear as crystal, and for an instant she almost wanted to ask him if he remembered too, and if he regretted giving up on her before without a fight. Lauren and Chris had had their time, as had all the other couples. This time around, though, she was married to Alex; she loved him, just as much as Lauren had loved her husband. And if he was ready to fight for her, the least she could do was battle the memories that weren't really her own for him.

  Smiling at him through her tears, she pulled him to her, and when his arms closed around her, she knew she had made the right decision.

  * * * *

  "I started this letter with ‘dear', but then I had to start over, because I wasn't sure which name to use. I guess that's also why I'm writing you a letter rather than telling you in person. When I'm in front of you, there are too many images in my head, too much of a past that is and yet isn't mine, and I can't focus on the here and now.

  I'm not even sure I can do that now, actually. Because what I wanted to say is suddenly being taken over by something completely different. Or rather, Lauren is taking over. She wanted Christopher to know something but he never received her letter; and when he came back, the memory was too painful for her to say anything. She was pregnant when he left for the war. She didn't know it until later, and she hesitated for a long time before writing to tell him about it. She was afraid it would distract him and put him in danger. She was so scared of losing him, and when she stopped receiving his answers, it felt as though she had lost a part of herself. She lost the child a few days after she
wrote to tell you about him. He was a fully formed, beautiful baby boy but was stillborn. She cried and cried over his death and was so scared it was somehow foreshadowing yours. She had loved him as much as she did you, and if her love hadn't been able to protect him, she was afraid it wouldn't protect you either. That's one reason she never told you about the baby, and asked everyone else not to say a word either. She had a feeling she had failed you, and she felt too guilty to tell you about it when you came back and she realized you had never received her letters. The guilt over keeping this from you haunted her all her life.

  She was too stubborn to give up, though. At first, she continued to do everything by herself; she lived alone and hired daily workers when she could. But with her pregnancy progressing, she eventually admitted to herself that she needed help to keep the farm running. The priest introduced her to a widower who was looking for work. He was a kind man, always a bit sad, but he knew how to work and he wasn't afraid to. She hired him, and to keep the village quiet, he went back every night to sleep in the small house attached to the priest's. It didn't take long before I realized he was in love with me, but I swear I did nothing to encourage him. I spoke of you at all times, and repeated to him constantly that I couldn't wait for you to come back. He was always the perfect gentleman, and when I lost the baby, he did his best to help me through my grief. I could tell that he doubted, as the whole village did, that you would ever come back, and I think he was afraid of what losing you on top of the baby would do to me. Still, he was too kind to hurt me by saying it aloud. I didn't love him, I'm not sure I could have loved anyone ever again even if I had known for a fact that you wouldn't be back. But he became my friend, with time, and when you returned I had a deep affection for him. He helped, simply by being there, sometimes by holding my hand, when the loss of our child or your continued absence was so hard to bear. I know he wished you would never return; but I'm also certain that, deep down, he hoped you would, too, because he had to know that was the only thing that would make me happy again. He left town the day you returned. I wish you could have truly met him; you two could have been friends I think.