Love on the Edge of Time

by Julie A. Richman

  “I’m seeing this woman, but she feels judgey to me. I just can’t warm up to her and confide.”

  “I know how that is. There’s actually something about my shrink that totally rubs me the wrong way,” admitted Kylie, “but she is helping me. My friend Krista worked with someone when her eating situation spun out of control on her. She loved this woman and they worked well together. If you’re interested, I can text her and get the doctor’s info.”

  “Okay,” Sarah nodded.

  “You need to feel good about you. And when you do it’s amazing what can happen. I’m the poster girl for that.” Kylie looked out the window, again struck by the splendor of Denali and thinking about the opportunities that presented themselves in her life once she made the decision to seek out her own dreams.

  ••••••

  Hey, babes. Check out this picture of the sun coming up and lighting the top of Denali. One of the photographers today told me it’s called Alpenglow. There’s an actual name for it. How cool is that. The shoot is going great and I had the opportunity this morning to really talk to Sarah. I think she listened, Jesse. I’m not a parent telling her, but more of a contemporary with my own (opposite) eating disorder and I lived under the pressure of having to be thin (before I said fuck this shit!) and I’m dating Jesse Winslow (instant street cred). Anyway, I hope it helped. I’m going to get her the number of a doctor who really helped a friend of mine. I’ll try calling you when I get up, before we leave. Hopefully you’ll be able to answer. We’re going to be shooting on a whale boat or something. So, no cell service again and I need to hear your voice. I know you’re leaving for London in two days, so we need to hook up before you go. xoxo Talk to you in the morning.

  ••••••

  “Pick up, Jess. C’mon,” Kylie groaned as his phone went into voicemail. She began talking after the beep. “Grr, you were supposed to pick up. You are probably in the studio laying down a track. I’m off to shoot on a boat today. I’ll try calling as soon as I have cell service later. I need to hear your voice. I miss you. Okay, talk to you later.”

  ••••••

  “Hey, Toots,” his voice was all sleep and gravel.

  “Finally,” she sighed. “I’m so sorry to wake you, sweetie. It’s just been too long.”

  “It’s okay. It’s been way too long. So, did you see any whales today?”

  Kylie could hear the rustling of his sheets and knew he was stretching. Just the sound made her ache as she pictured the motion in her mind of his right arm going up, biceps bulging and his stomach muscles rippling as they tightened all the way down to the V.

  “Yes. That’s tomorrow’s pictures. I’ve got one of a whale breaching. It is so cool. I’m really happy I got to experience it. Did you have a good day in the studio?”

  “Yeah, crazy busy. We’re just preparing everything for the move. I didn’t realize there was so much work.”

  “Have you packed yet?”

  “No. I’m going to do that today when I wake up,” he laughed.

  “I should let you get back to sleep.”

  “No. Not yet. I need more Kylie time. When do you get to New York?”

  “Wednesday and I’ll be home for a week. We leave for Australia the following Wednesday.”

  “Crap. We miss each other on this end and then that time difference is going to totally fuck us.” He stretched again, a low moan escaping.

  “I know, and with my shooting hours and I know you’re going to be making the most out of that studio time and living in that studio, we’re so fucked,” she laughed.

  Laughing, “I’m going to need more foot pictures if we keep this up.”

  “You liked that, huh?”

  “Toots, you totally got me off this morning. And, I thank you. That was a great surprise.”

  When his breathing got heavy, she knew he was starting to doze. “Okay, sweets, I’m going to let you get back to sleep. Tell me you love me.” She hadn’t realized she needed to hear those words so badly until the request came out of her.

  Jesse chuckled. “Are you going to tell me you love me?”

  “Not over the phone for the first time.”

  “No? Where then?”

  “In your arms.”

  “Mmm, that works. I love you, Toots.”

  Every fiber in her being ached to say the words back to him. And the very next time his arms were around her, she would tell him the words he wanted to hear. The words she yearned to share because the sentiment possessed her, heart and soul.

  “Goodnight, you.” His breathing told her he had already fallen back to sleep.

  ••••••

  Bed. Lonely, empty bed. Yes. I came home to this. And now I’m the one pouting. Being in New York without you sucks, Jess. It totally sucks. I can’t even look at my bed, knowing I won’t feel you spooned behind me, playing with my hair. How long is it until we’re together again? Oh, that’s right, too long. Too fucking long. I walked into L9 today and Zac’s dad said, “Where’s Jesse?” and it hit me how much we do together, how people know us as a couple. I told him you were in London recording and he was so sweet and asked me if I wanted the private gym. I didn’t take it, I just ended up working out on the main floor with Zac, but that was so nice of him to offer. I feel so at home there. Can’t wait to wake up to your picture. Make it a good one.

  ••••••

  You knew you were going to get this from me, right? I felt kind of like a dumbass doing it, but how could I not, it’s iconic. The first one obviously is just me and the second one is me, Chris, Bob (whom you’ve met), and Ian (one of the Master Engineers). Okay, I feel complete now (well, or as complete as I can feel without you). ☺ So, another great day of recording. This place has got some really good juju, Toots. I feel like Amy Winehouse is looking over my shoulder, pushing me to dig in my soul and go places where it really hurts. I’m excited about what I’m doing and I can’t wait to play it for you. That was really cool of Schooner to offer you the private gym. Nice that he’s taking care of my baby when I’m not around. I’ll need to thank him. Maybe let him and Zac know about the showcase and we can guest list them and their plus ones. If you can do that, I’ll get them on the list. Okay, Toots, they want me back in the booth. Love you.

  Kylie smiled, looking at the pictures, flipping back and forth on her phone. She wondered where Jesse had gotten the white suit and shoes. They weren’t from his home wardrobe, that she knew. In the picture with the three other men, Jesse led the line, just as one of his personal idols, John Lennon, had done for the iconic album cover in the very same crosswalk. In the picture where it was just him, he faced the camera, huge smile and his left hand held up, fingers forming a peace sign. Not only was he living out his recording studio fantasy, he was getting to play fanboy and pay homage to one of his all-time favorite bands.

  A day later, the photos started showing up on the Internet and although she was glad she had seen them first--that for a moment they had just been hers--she couldn’t help but feel violated. There was nothing from stopping a random fan on the street from pulling out their cell phone and taking pictures, but these were basically identical to the ones Jesse had sent her. The specialness of their daily picture gift to one another felt sullied. It wasn’t there’s anymore and it wasn’t special. She was used to sharing Jesse with the world, everywhere they went. But this was their personal thing for when they weren’t together to alleviate missing one another, not something to distribute to the masses.

  Packing for Australia, Kylie felt out of sorts. Was it the travel? Missing Jesse? Being rundown from crazy hours on photoshoots? She wasn’t quite sure, but thought it best not to miss her last session with Claire before leaving the country again. She had already missed a few sessions with the Alaska travel and wondered if maybe that contributed to her general malaise.

  “I got to do something I’m really glad I had the opportunity to do,” she told the psychiatrist, detailing her conversation with Sarah. �
��And she’s already called my friend’s doctor and set up an appointment.”

  “I know your intentions are good, Kylie, but you are really not qualified to give out advice.” Claire’s eyebrows were raised.

  “Seriously? You are seriously saying that to me, someone with an eating disorder. Yeah, I know you’ve only seen the fat side of my disorder, but I’ve had my fingers down my throat,” and she stopped herself from saying, more than you’ve had dicks down yours, and instead said, “more times than I care to admit. I lived among a group of women who made a lifestyle out of anorexia and bulimia. I’m highly qualified to talk about it and my conversation has led her to seek help. I think that’s pretty damn good.”

  “Well, I hope it works out for your friend.” She smiled at Kylie, then pivoted, “So, have you been able to tell Jesse you love him yet?”

  “No. I haven’t said it. He’s away. I’ve been away. And he knows I will not say it over the phone to him. I am going to say it to him when we are together.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She made a note on her iPad. “Do you think you are using the separation as an excuse?”

  “No. Not at all. I want to be able to look into his eyes when I say it. I want to see his smile. Feel the reaction throughout his body. I want to take his face in my hands and kiss him. And I want to feel his cock get hard against me.” She threw in the final piece for shock value.

  “Kylie, have you really taken the time to think about why you might love Jesse the rock star versus Jesse the man? Are you able to parse those two things out?”

  Is she insinuating that I have a groupie crush on Jesse? Kylie wondered.

  “When you say things like that it truly makes me wonder if you even listen to what I say in here. I don’t know Jesse Winslow, the rock star, the heart throb. I know Jesse Winslow, my boyfriend. I know a man I laugh so hard with that my face hurts. I know someone I can talk to about anything from feelings to business and he just gets what I’m saying. He’s really special and I am honored to be helping him in his sobriety and in discovering the world from a clear place. So, yeah, Claire, I have been able to parse things out and I fell in love with an awesome man.”

  “You’re very passionate in defending your feelings.”

  “Nothing to defend. I love him. And he loves me. This is without a doubt the single healthiest relationship I have had in my life. So, thank you for having both of us as patients, because without you, our paths might not have crossed. You are responsible for bringing us together. It’s no coincidence we are both patients of yours or that Jesse walked in on the one day you kept me waiting out in the reception area. It was meant to be. Meant to happen. So, thank you, Claire,” she emphasized the doctor’s name.

  “So, you feel this was fated?”

  “I’d like to think destiny versus fate. With fate it’s all predetermined, destiny can be shaped and changed. I think what Jesse and I are both doing with you is making changes in our lives to become healthier. We’re both taking responsibility and control, so I’d like to think we are taking an active role in shaping our own destinies.” Kylie challenged.

  “Interesting concepts, destiny and fate, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yeah, it really gives you a lot to think about.”

  “It does,” Claire agreed, “and I think it’ a perfect segue for us to begin a regression.”

  “I agree. Let’s do it.” Kylie reached for the glasses on the table next to her.

  Settling into the couch, she focused on Claire’s voice as the doctor led her through the guided meditation, her transition occurring almost immediately and with ease.

  “Stop them. Stop them. We have to stop them,” she called out, her tone reaching hysteria.

  “Kylie, where are you?” Claire interrupted.

  “We have to stop them. Please, help me. Help me.” Tears were already streaming down her cheeks.

  Claire made note of the physical manifestation.

  “Kylie, look at your feet. Tell me what you are wearing.” Claire needed to migrate away from the hysterics and get her to communicate.

  “Sandals.”

  “What are they made of?” Claire kept her voice even.

  “Leather straps.”

  “Where are you?” She continued, now that she had gotten her to focus.

  “Palestine.”

  “Can you tell me when it is? What year?”

  “Long ago.”

  “BC?”

  “I don’t think so,” she answered. “But maybe around then.”

  “Do you know who Jesus Christ is?” Claire sat forward in her seat.

  “I know of him. But he lived a while ago.”

  “Can you describe to me what you are wearing?” Claire hoped from the description that maybe she could narrow down a timeframe.

  “Stop them. Stop them. Don’t you touch me, you filthy animal,” her screams were terrifying.

  Running along the dusty road toward the walls of the city, the Roman guards keep pushing me back, trying to stop me. But I need to stop them. I have to stop this whole thing. Can I cause some kind of distraction that will put a stop to this travesty? I wonder if that will work.

  I’m out of breath and my feet are in pain, cut open from rocks and pottery shards that have worked their way between my sandal’s straps. I don’t have to look down to know my feet are bleeding. But right now, nothing hurts more than my heart. I have to stop this and so I keep running because I have to catch up and do something. There’s got to be something I can do. I can’t let this happen.

  Up ahead, I see the crowds, as if this were sport. Some sick Roman sport. And I know they are coming. Bunching my kethōneth and simlāh in my hands, so that I can run without tripping, I start weaving through the people. Half are crying and the others are the maggots of Rome, there for the spectacle.

  “Rachel. Rachel.” I hear my name. It’s Daniel’s voice. Stopping, I scan the crowd. I must find him.

  Standing with Simon, Leah and Ephraim, I notice Daniel is dressed in a heavy silk me’īl, the color of sand with piping the burgundy of a hearty wine. The formal outfit, generally reserved for government meetings, high holy days or funeral processions, I know, is to pay his respects. This can’t be happening.

  “You shouldn’t be here. You should not see this. Leah, take her from here,” he insists, trying to protect me.

  “No,” I protest. “I won’t go. I have to stop this. I can’t let them do this. They can’t do this to him, Daniel. Can we cause some kind of distraction and stop it?”

  Tears are streaming down my friends’ faces as they know we are powerless. The followers of a man who preached love and tolerance, acceptance and pacifism. And here we are, prisoners of our own beliefs.

  The crowd seizes into a frenzy and I break away from Daniel, pushing myself through the throngs of people to get out onto the thoroughfare, determined to stop this. Emerging through the crowd, I see David and the three other rabbis approaching. They have all been stripped bare, their hands bound with leather straps to the heavy, wooden crossbeam they carry across their shoulders, as they are marched to their death.

  I hear a scream. A wounded animal. And somehow, I know it’s me. No. No. No. No. This can’t be happening.

  “David,” I scream, certain that nothing has actually escaped my throat. “David,” I choke on my sobs, barely able to breathe.

  He knows I’m there and turns his face to see me on the road’s edge. “I’ll find you,” his lips clearly form the words. And he repeats them, “I’ll find you.”

  I need to run to him, but my legs won’t move, as if I’m nailed to the ground. As he passes, I see his back. He has been scourged and left are raw ribbons of flesh, his skin disintegrated.

  “No,” I scream and my legs finally break from their spot as I fling my body into the thoroughfare. I need to get to David. Get him out of there. Get him to safety. He’s moving away from me, his sweet, beautiful face now gone and all I see is the crowd that has filled in behind him and the other rabbi
s.

  The soldier’s hands grab me from behind, landing roughly on my breasts, digging into the flesh as he rips away my simlāh. Throwing me to the ground, he stands over me, blocking all sunlight. In the shadow, I see his face. It is Cassius Petronius and as I look up into his cold blue eyes, I am certain of what is to come next. I’m only glad David will not see this.

  Closing my eyes, I envision David’s face and his final vow to me, “I’ll find you.”

  “No. No. No.”

  “Rachel, tell me what happened with Cassius Petronius.” Claire’s voice is commanding.

  “He enslaved me. And raped me and beat me. I was his last way to humiliate David, even though David was gone.”

  “Were you his slave for the rest of your life?” Claire probed.

  “No. For seven years, until he was killed and then I regained my freedom.”

  “What happened to you then?”

  “I went to live in Sebastia with Daniel.”

  Claire sat there in silence. Every hair on the back of her neck stood at attention and had been since Kylie started this regression. David and Rachel. And Daniel.

  “Is Daniel your brother?” This can’t be, she thought as she asked the question. These were common names in Judaism.

  “No. Daniel was David’s rabbinical mentor and closest friend.”

  Closing her eyes, Claire realized she was straining to breathe. This couldn’t be happening.

  “Did your skin problem ever return?” Claire threw this out for corroboration, since Kylie had not mentioned it.

  “Yes. The years I was a slave, it was very bad. After that it calmed. Daniel brought me back to the Essenoi and they were able to cure me again.”

  With her hand over her mouth, Claire sat there. None of this was a coincidence. Not the two of them ending up as her clients, not their meeting in her waiting room. None of it. Jesse and Kylie had been lovers before. And he certainly did find her, as promised.