Teresa wrinkled her nose. “It’s too cold to go swimming Mum.”
“How can it be too cold?” asked Christine, “The pool is inside the leisure centre remember. It’s heated!”
“Still too cold. You told me not to go out with wet hair.”
“There are hair dryers there, so you wouldn’t be going out with wet hair.”
“You never dry it enough with the dryer Mum, it’s always damp.”
“Well it’s up to you. You can do whatever you prefer.”
“Joey’s!” exclaimed Teresa as she turned back to the cartoon.
Well that was that then. Christine didn’t mind. She could spend the afternoon catching up on her marking if Teresa was over Joey’s.
The living room door opened and Matt came in and slumped down on the sofa. “I’m still tired,” he said, “Don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Do you want another cup of coffee?” she asked him.
“No I’m ok, you go off on your run. I’ll catch up on the cartoons with Teresa, won’t I Teri?”
“Hmmm,” Teresa answered, still engrossed.
Christine got up and kissed them both on the top of their heads. She went over to her desk and picked up her iPod which had been charging. She put the headphones into her ears, waved them goodbye and went out the front door.
She walked briskly down to the end of the road that ran alongside the river before turning left into the wooded area that was her main running track. It was beautiful all year round but never more so than in early winter when some of the trees were already bare and the ground was covered with soft brown leaves that were easy on her joints. She did a few stretches, enjoying the clean fresh air. She then turned her iPod on. The Jam’s Going Underground started, her favourite song to get her going in the early stages of a run when her body was stiff and her lungs protesting.
She started to run. She had begun running not long after leaving school for university. From the first moment she had been introduced to the university drinking culture and a life of fast food and chocolate she had worried about how she would keep slim for Matt. She was constantly worried that he would find the other female students in university more attractive than her, that he would fall in love with someone else. They had both agreed to go to the same university and live at home with their parents to save money, and both quickly found they were spending a lot of time at the university with new friends. It was good for them both to widen their circle they agreed. They had been loners together in the sixth form, their fellow students had seen how wrapped up in each other they were and had left them to it. University life was different. They made different friends because they were studying different subjects – Christine was studying Theology and Matt was studying English Literature. Sometimes they even went out in the evening to different places with different people, something they had never done before. It was then that Christine sought courage in alcohol, to help her become a more confident version of herself, someone who could cope with social occasions without Matt - indeed could even enjoy them. But the next day when hangover induced paranoia was attacking she would worry about Matt’s faithfulness and found herself growing increasingly fixated on her weight. If she didn’t stay slim she would lose him. And that was when she started running.
Of course he was faithful and gave her nothing but reassurance. He told her she was beautiful. He told her he would always love her no matter what her size - slim or heavy. But during those early years at university nothing apart from running really seemed to soothe her. Looking back Christine could see that she was just struggling to cope with the change – leaving the safety and security of school for the new and unknown, starting her degree and meeting new people who often seemed smarter than she was. She felt out of control. Everything was changing too fast. Matt was her anchor. The more unsettled she felt the more she wanted to cling to him, to hold him to her, to reassure herself he wouldn’t leave. But she held back, not wanting to appear too needy or clingy. And so she found running, and it saved her.
Because when running Christine discovered an escape, a way of getting back in touch with something beyond her anxieties and neuroses, a way of getting back in touch with her true self. The pounding of her feet, the beat of her heart, the ache of her limbs – all were real and tangible unlike the tormenting thoughts that danced in her brain.
And as her body grew physically stronger so did her own self-esteem. She had loved the changes that running brought to her body. When she saw the muscles developing in her legs she had glowed with pride. She had also started going to the university gym to use the rowing machine and cross trainer to help tone her upper body. Not too much, just enough to look shapely and firm.
Exercise and running were now the great stress relievers in Christine’s life. She had continued to run all through university and even when pregnant (although Matt had fretted then). And when Teresa was born she bought a racing pram so that she could take Teresa out on her runs with her. Those had been blissful times. Pounding through the streets early in the morning, Teresa asleep in the pram, unaware of the whiz of houses and cars passing her by. And even though Teresa was asleep Christine has felt she was sharing something with her daughter, introducing her to the world in a unique way.
This morning’s run was as exhilarating as usual. She felt ready to go faster twenty minutes in and kicked off sharply. The air was pumping through her lungs, her legs felt loose and relaxed. There was no one around. She seemed to have the entire area to herself.
Or so she thought. But when she rounded the next corner she saw a figure ahead of her, a male figure, also running. Her heart skipped a beat, she didn’t know why. Part of her wanted to slow down, to hold back. Matt never really liked her running in these woods anyway, but after several arguments about it had learned not to push it anymore. She needed to run, she told him, and these woods were on the doorstep.
But this man … why did she feel so uneasy? It wasn’t the first time she had come across other runners in the woods. And dog walkers and ramblers. All would politely nod their heads and smile at each other as they passed by, mutual respect for anyone who was out there enjoying the area, this beautiful area, rather than slouching at home watching another mindless programme on TV.
She slowed down, almost walking now not running. Should she turn around and run back the way she had come rather than doing her usual loop she wondered. But she kept going. The man ahead also seemed to have slowed, so that despite her snail-like pace she was still gaining on him. She noticed he had dark hair, a muscular upper body and strong legs. He looked fit, clearly he worked out.
She was near him now. She didn’t know what to do. As if in answer he came to a stop and turned around. She saw his face and pulled up short. A searing white light came into her head.
“Damien?” she said, “Damien?”
“Christine, are you okay?” Damien asked.
She ran towards him. “Oh Damien, where have you been?” she cried. Images were assailing her. Sugar puffs, cartoons, a river that shimmered in the moonlight, Matt in bed. But before her was Damien. She threw herself into his arms and started to cry, sobbing, shoulders shaking. How could she have forgotten him? Damien. How could she ever forget Damien?
He pulled back from her and looked at her. “What’s going on Christine?” he said.
She looked around. They were on the promenade that ran alongside the bay. The sea was glistening, the lighthouse bright in the distance. Their usual running place. They had run here for years and had always run together. But somewhere else she was in a wood running alone, her husband and child back home watching cartoons and her daughter planning her afternoon at Joey’s. It was all too much for her. She was going to be sick. She fell down on her knees and started to dry heave. Damien put his hand on her back. There was nothing coming up. She’d only had coffee today. Or had she? What had she had in this world? She turned around and lay flat on the ground looking up at the sky. This sky. Damien crouched down beside her an
d brushed her hair away from her face.
“What’s going on?” he asked again, quietly.
She looked at him. Could she tell him? Should she tell him? He was her best friend. She always told him everything. But would he think she was mad? But if she carried on like this he would think that anyway.
“I need to talk to you,” she said, getting up. “But not here, can we go home first?”
He nodded and took her hand. In silence they walked together back to the car and drove home.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
After the conversation she lay in bed feeling cold and shivery. She could hear him on the phone talking in a quiet whisper to her mother. It was as she had feared. He did not believe her. His face had looked shocked, disbelieving, amazed even when she spoke. And when she mentioned Matt and what seemed to have happened he looked angry too, very angry. “So you’re seeing this other world often then?” he’d asked once. She’d replied, telling him the number of times it had happened, and how long the last one had lasted, and the fact that this time she had forgotten about her real life. Again he’d looked sad and hurt.
“Basically you’re telling me you’re having an affair with this Matt,” he had stated flatly at one point.
“No not at all. It’s not like that.”
“You’ve been to a pub with him Christine,” he replied, his voice controlled but his face betraying his fury.
“It’s nothing like that. The world is changing around me and in that world I’m married to him,” she replied.
“Do you realise how insane you sound?” he asked.
It was her turn to look hurt now. “Yes of course I do,” she said, “Why do you think I’ve not told you up until now?”
“I think you’re having a breakdown,” he said eventually. “It’s your work. You’re doing too many hours and now this has happened. I always knew something like this would happen.”
“I’m not having a breakdown. I told you what Jim…Dr Priestley… said.”
“Don’t get me started on him,” said Damien, getting up to pace around. Suddenly he stopped and looked at her. “Have you given him any money?”
“What? No. What do you mean? He’s never asked me for any money.”
“Well I bet it’s only a matter of time,” he said. “They’re probably in it together – him and this Matt. They’re setting you up. Maybe, maybe… oh my God - what if they’re drugging you Chris?”
He knelt before her quickly, cupped her face with his hands and started examining her eyes. She pulled her head back. “Stop it Damien, just stop it.” She stood up. “They are not drugging me. Everything Matt and Jim have said is true. I have seen a different world and I know in that world I have a different life.”
“And is it a better life?” he said, standing before her. “Do you wish you were there with him now?”
“It’s not about him. I love you. I love my life with you.”
“You’re not answering the question. In fact here’s another question – do you love him? When you’re with him in that world do you love him?”
“Yes,” she said bluntly. “I do.” At this he turned away and walked into the kitchen. Slowly she followed. He stood with his hands on the counter looking out over the garden. She walked back to the living room and sat back down. What was going to happen to them? She had hurt him, she knew that. She had just admitted she was in love with another man. How could the two of them ever come back from that?
After a few minutes he came back into the living room, sat beside her and held her hand.
“I don’t know what’s happening with you Christine but I know I love you and I’m not losing you. Do you still love me?”
“Of course I do,” she said, squeezing his hand tightly, tears starting to roll down her face.
“Well then we’ll get through this together.”
“I…I…don’t want you to put me away somewhere,” she said, it was what she had been fearing all along. “I don’t want to be committed.”
He laughed softly. “No one is going to commit you. I told you…I’m not losing you. But,” he looked seriously at her, “You must see a doctor. We have to get to the bottom of this.”
“I have an appointment booked for Monday,” she admitted, “I wasn’t going to tell you.”
“I’m glad you have,” he said, and kissed her gently on the lips. She felt exhausted. She must have looked it too. “Why don’t you go upstairs for a lie down? I’m going to ring your mother,” he said.
“Why my mother?” she asked.
“Because I need to know more about the buzzing, the voices you heard as a child. It might be important.”
“She didn’t even know they were voices,” said Christine, “I didn’t tell them because I thought they’d think I was mad.”
“Well she needs to know now and I need to know what she remembers so that we make sure we tell the doctor everything.”
“Okay,” said Christine. She was too tired to argue more about this point, too tired now to argue about anything.
“And another thing, “ he said, “We need to tell the doctor about the fact we’ve not been able to have a baby.”
She went pale. “I don’t want to talk to the doctor about that,” she said.
He came towards her and put his arms around her waist. “I know you don’t Christine,” he said, “But don’t you see? That could be important too.”
“How? Why? Why would us not being able to conceive have anything to do with what is happening?”
“Because in this other life you have a child, a daughter, the one thing you’ve not been able to have in this life.”
She started to cry. She allowed him to hold her close. She buried her head in his shoulder and sobbed. Eventually he let her go and told her to go and lie down upstairs and that he’d be up later. And so she did.
The shivers were getting worse, she realised, as she lay in the darkening bedroom. She thought about what he’d said – that her failure to conceive might have something to do with what was happening. Could that be true? She thought of how she’d last seen Teresa this morning, eating sugar puffs and watching cartoons and her heart ached. What was happening now in that world? Had Teresa gone to Joey’s that afternoon? It was strange to think another version of herself was there experiencing all of that while she was here - her consciousness missing out on everything the other version was seeing. She missed Teresa, she realised that. She missed Matt too but didn’t want to go there, could barely bring herself to acknowledge that fact. It seemed more of a betrayal of Damien than missing a daughter they just hadn’t had together.
A daughter. It was at once an alien concept to her and one that was now as familiar to her as the very core of her being. She knew Teresa. Knew everything about her. She remembered her birth. It had been a home birth in a large birthing pool – water splashing over the edges onto the plastic sheet covering the floor when the contractions became too painful. Matt had been there with her throughout – rubbing her back and shoulders, holding her hand, doing everything the movies told him to do, none of it of any use. The midwife had fed her regular doses of gas and air and that had been the only thing that helped until the very end when nothing helped, the pain was all consuming and she couldn’t think straight anymore. And then she had arrived, her daughter, a tiny wriggling thing that Christine had loved instantly. And Matt had been the same, beaming with joy, the look of terror on his face changed to one of pure happiness. She remembered passing the baby to him. “Little Teresa,” he had whispered, looking down at his child. They had agreed on the name months before, when they had been told she was carrying a girl. Christine had slumped back in the birthing pool, exhausted but happy in a way she had never known before. And later that evening she had been warm and tucked up in bed, holding the baby in her arms, with Matt sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at them both and smiling, unable to stop smiling it seemed. It had been wonderful.
She sat up. The bedroom was cold and dark. Damien still hadn
’t come upstairs and she felt a small stab of resentment that he hadn’t come to see how she was. She got out of bed and walked to the top of the stairs and listened. She couldn’t hear his voice anymore, he must have finished talking to her mother. She crept down three steps and looked into the living room. She could see in through the glass of the door. Damien was sat on the sofa head in hands. It looked like he was crying. His shoulders were shaking. She turned around and walked back up the stairs and into the bedroom. She climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She felt so alone. And he must have felt that way too she realised. She wanted to go down and comfort him but she couldn’t. She didn’t have any words that could give him comfort. Yes they could go to the doctor. Yes they could run all the tests in the world. Yes they could even talk about the trouble they were having conceiving (although she did not want to do that- did not want to do that at all). But what would it solve? Nothing. Because Christine knew, knew with an absolute certainty, that what was happening to her was not anything medicine could sort and no gamut of tests and machines would uncover it, solve it or fix it. What was happening was real and she didn’t know if anything could stop it. She was shifting between two universes and was now living two lives. And, as she slowly drifted off to sleep, one nagging thought caught at the edge of her mind – why in this world did she miss the other universe while in the other universe she was already starting to forget her life here? What did that mean?
Life Shift Page 10