Max checked into a cheap motel that night. He tossed and turned in bed, revisiting dozens of times his encounters with Abby. Abby on their second date in Life I, taking her to see the movie Ghost—boy, that had been a big mistake! Abby on the night he asked her to go steady, under that blossoming elm tree by the river. Abby as he carried her over the threshold, when he tripped and they both crashed to the floor in insane laughter, on their wedding day.
Over and over, he told himself he’d made a mistake in approaching her so soon here, in Life II.
Deep in his heart though, Max felt liberated. He’d finally met the woman who was to become his wife and the mother of his children… if only…
Max sighed.
If only it was in another life.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
January 17, 1990 at 9:04 a.m.
At nine in the morning, Max walked up the steps of the University Center. As he’d anticipated, Abby was right on time, waving at him as he approached. One glimpse at the look on her face told Max everything he needed to know.
“Hey, Max!”
“Good morning, Abby.”
Abby started, “I hardly had any sleep last night.”
“Me either.”
Abby clasped his arm. “Max?”
“Uh-huh?”
“I want you to know I gave this a lot of thought.”
“Uh huh.” Max looked down, not really wanting to hear the rest.
“I find you fascinating. I really had a good time last night. In so many ways we seem compatible.”
Here it comes…
“But Max,” Abby sighed, “as I said last night, I do things one at a time.”
Here it is… Boy oh boy Max, you blew it…
“I believe in a solid basis for friendship. And I think it would be so unfair to Rob for me to just forget about him.”
Max scuffed his feet, and nodded blankly.
“I have a special relationship with Rob, and I want to see how that continues. Maybe we—I mean, Rob and I—maybe we were meant to be together.”
“You mean, like fate.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you told me you didn’t believe in fate.”
Appearing flustered, Abby replied, “Don’t get me wrong. I believe in fate to some point. But—I don’t know. It feels like you just came into my life so suddenly.” She massaged her left arm, searching for words. “If I were a different person, if I thrived on spontaneity, I might—”
“Say no more,” Max said, and started to walk away.
Just then, however, he felt an intense wave of tenderness. He positioned his body close to hers, just the way he’d always done with her during their previous life’s romantic encounters.
“What are you…?”
Abby seemed surprised, but did not resist him. He leaned his head to the right and lowered his face to hers. In a promised whisper, his lips gently touched hers.
“Max, I…”
The kiss started slow and sweet, each of them testing and discovering. He searched so hard for the magic they’d always had. He nibbled on her upper lip—a move he’d previously done that usually drove Abby crazy with desire. He felt her hot breath mingle with his.
“Maaax…”
When they pulled apart, Abby was wide-eyed, her face flushed, like a woman who had enjoyed the affection. For a moment, she hesitated. Then she reached up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Her eyes fixed on his and narrowed.
“I do have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“You said last night that you loved me. Did you really say ‘loved,’ or did you say ‘love?’”
Max smiled. “I said I loved you.”
“Loved?” Abby repeated once again, emphasizing the d.
Max lowered his gaze to hers. “Yup. Loved. As in past tense.”
Abby looked perplexed. “I don’t understand what that means.”
“Someday I’ll explain.”
Abby pouted. “That was one of the things that kept me up all of last night. But very well, Mr. Mystery Stranger...”
This was it. Instantly Max knew in his heart that he’d blown it. That he and Abby weren’t meant to be in this new life. That the time they’d shared together, the children they had birthed and raised, were all something that would never be again. His heart ached, but he knew this was best… for him, for Abby, for this new course that Max was on. Still, Abby had been such an integral part of his life before, he wasn’t willing to completely let go. Not just yet.
And then, Abby’s question made him smile. “Will you keep in touch?”
Max suddenly was struck with a brilliant idea. In Life I, Abby frequently—when she was sad and lonely—wished out loud for a particular thing. A thing that might solve their dilemma.
“Abby, I’ve got an idea! I want you to be my pen pal.”
Abby beamed. “Hmmm. I’ve always wanted a pen pal!” She looked up dreamingly. “I’ve always wanted another female, like someone from France or Japan, to write me back and forth.” She looked at Max. “I never thought I’d have a male pen pal. But I like it.”
Max hugged her. “It’s a deal.”
They exchanged addresses. Max suddenly realized the time had come.
“Goodbye, Abby.”
“Goodbye, Max.”
As Max shook her hand, and walked away, he thought this time they’d shared together was so much better than the years that followed in Life I. Abby was young, free, and had hope for her future. There was no need to discuss the pile-up of dirty clothes in the kids’ bedrooms, or the messy toothbrushes by the bathroom sink, with toothpaste drippings underneath, or who should take out the garbage or which way the toilet paper should unroll.
Max loved Abby again. Right now.
In this life.
He knew it wasn’t going to last, but as he walked away, he felt nothing but longing.
So he raced back to her. She was still standing there, in the same place where he’d left her, face slack and dull and heavy.
“Max?”
“I have to kiss you one more time.”
“Oh, Max,” Abby giggled.
They kissed passionately right there in front of the student center for all to see. Max didn’t care. It seemed as though Abby didn’t either from the way she ran her hands up and down Max’s back. When they broke again, Max knew he had a smug look on his face.
“You’re a funny guy,” Abby said.
Wordlessly, Max eased back from her, his heart and mind full of fresh, new emotions and feelings. Abby looked at him doubtfully. He remembered looking at Abby the last time in Life I, and searching for the old hope in her eyes, the same hope he saw right now, but seeing only heartbreak and…
Walk away, Max. Walk away.
His last vision of her that day was of a vibrant, pretty female grinning with freshly-kissed lips and shyly waving, between the snow banks on the path in front of the Student Center.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
November 6, 1991 at 7:45 p.m.
Max’s easy smile froze. Thinking he didn’t hear correctly, he brought the phone closer to his jaw and snapped, “Say that again?”
Stacey, at the other end of the line, gave off a nervous laugh as she said, “Sorry. I thought you knew.”
“The hell I did.”
There was a dead silence on the phone.
“My roommate Nathan?” Max pressed, so angry that an instantaneous flash of blinding white clouded his senses.
“Well—” was the evasive reply.
“Fuck you,” Max blurted out, slamming down the phone. Without thinking, without knowing where his rapid feet were taking him, he stormed around the corner into the kitchen. There Nathan was, facing the other way, scraping off a film of fried residue that stubbornly stuck to the surface of the pan, now half-full of sudsy water.
A furious Max shoved against his shoulder, causing Nathan to lose his balance.
“Hey!” cried out Nathan, provoked into fury. He struck M
ax back against his chest, causing Max to gasp with pain. Beyond rage, Max elbowed him in the next split second, causing the two roommates to tussle back and forth like two battering rams.
Finally Nathan, panting, held up one arm and glowered at Max. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“You’re screwing with Stacey,” Max snarled with a dangerous look in his eyes. “Fuck you, you’re such an asshole. You knew she was mine.”
In the next split second, Max observed Nathan sagging, shifting his eyes sideways.
Max let forth his invective. “It’s not enough for you, Nathan? It’s never enough, is it?”
Nathan held up a steady hand. “She asked.”
“Oh yeah? And you had to say yes? You just had to say yes? Even though you knew she was mine?”
“Max—”
“Fuck you, Nathan. I’m moving out.”
Chapter Thirty
November 28, 1991 at 7:38 p.m.
Max had a gigantic, hurt-like-hell headache that throbbed as he attempted to study up on the metabolic pathways of the human body. Only two things mattered to him now; his moving out, which was his first split from the path he had so carefully laid out in Life II, and the pressure cooker urgency of his upcoming final exams for the semester.
Shit, I didn’t realize how much I depend on Nathan, Max thought. He “grasps” concepts so easily, whereas I don’t. I’m great with numbers, but not so much with medicine.
He looked up at the window, and through it, observed the pitch-black silhouettes of the leaf-stripped oak trees in the backyard, realizing winter was imminent. Maybe I shouldn’t have committed to being a doctor, he realized with a flash of horror. I’m not as smart as I thought I was.
He chewed on the cap of his pen as he mulled his thoughts. We’ve agreed to remain friends after I move out, but I’m still furious at him. Plus, my new place won’t be ready until the first weekend of January.
His animosity weakened as he reflected on his friendship with Nathan. Now he was curious what Nathan was up to. Maybe they could have a chat, like old times. Finding it too easy to tear himself away from his studies, he walked up from his desk and down to the hallway they shared in common.
He noticed that Nathan’s door was closed, which was unusual. Does he have a girl in there? Max hadn’t heard anyone come in. Not the usual giggles and whoops. He knocked on the door. No answer.
Max slowly opened the door. There was no light on, just the faint glow of the gray sky outside on a winter night shimmering through the window.
“Go away.” Max heard the curt voice coming from the bed.
He saw Nathan’s silhouette. He was lying on his stomach, fully dressed, on the bed, with his face turned sideways toward the unshuttered window.
“Nathan?”
“Go away,” Nathan repeated, but with less conviction this time. Max pulled up Nathan’s desk chair and sat next to the bed.
“Nathan, what’s wrong?” Max asked.
“Nothing,” Nathan snapped.
“I know you better than that. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Nathan sat up on the bed, looking at Max. He moved so lethargically that Max wondered if he was sick. Nathan’s eyes looked swollen in the moonlight. Instead of his typical confident, cheerful smile, he had a dejected look on his face.
“Nathan, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying to me. I’m going to stay here until you tell me. Take your time.”
Nathan said nothing. Max waited, listening to the steady breathing.
“Do you want a Coke?”
“Yes, please.” Nathan never said “please”.
Max returned with the can of soda, and purposely left Nathan’s door open so that the bright light of the hallway could liven up the atmosphere of Nathan’s bedroom. Max dared not turn on the light in Nathan’s room yet.
Nathan rolled over, wordlessly took the can, and drank it all in one slow gulp. He attempted to place the empty can on his cluttered nightstand, but gave up and put it in the floor.
“Really, man, what’s the problem?”
“I don’t feel so hot,” Nathan said, lacking any emotion.
“Is this about Stacey?”
“Yes…” Nathan muttered with hesitation. “…but there’s more.”
“I’m going to sit here until you tell me what’s going on.”
Five minutes passed and Max knew Nathan wasn’t going to utter one word. Stubborn ass. “All right.” Max broke the silence. “I’ll just say this. In order to love others, you have to love yourself first.”
Nathan listened attentively. “Don’t give me that touchy-feely crap.”
“OK. How’s this? Yeah, you’re an asshole,” Max snapped. “You put yourself ahead of anyone else, and you treat people like crap.”
“Thanks,” Nathan said without hesitation.
“And if you’re miserable, you only have yourself to blame. You’re smart, fun guy. And the most driven one I’ve ever known. But you gotta let yourself slow down once in awhile. Stop racing time. Trust me, it will always be there in some way, shape, or form.”
Max tried not to choke on his own hypocrisy.
Nathan studied Max’s face, as though he had never seen him before.
“You’ve got nothing to prove…to anyone, Nathan. I think the problem is that you haven’t yet proven to yourself that you’re basically a good guy.”
Nathan continued to stare. Max waited. He could sense there was something more his friend needed to tell him.
“I’m gay.”
Okay, well that’s not what I expected.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m gay, Max. I’ve tried to tell myself it wasn’t true. I figured I could control it. But I can’t.”
“I don’t believe you. I’ve never seen you with a guy. I’ve never even seen you looking at a guy.” Max paused. And then the reality hit him. “Wait a minute. You and me…?”
Nathan chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself, Max. You’re not my type.”
Max exhaled, louder than he expected. He tried to be nonchalant, but he knew his awkwardness was showing. “So, when did you realize it?”
“I’ve felt this way since I was twelve, but I figured it was just crazy hormones.”
Max swallowed his dread. “Did you ever tell…?”
Nathan chortled in a mocking way. “My family? Never. When I was home, they talked about gay people. Saying how twisted they were.”
“But they’ll change,” Max argued, more fearful than hopeful of that ever happening.
“I really tried, Max. I tried to be someone I wasn’t.”
Max had known a few gay people in Life I. There was a man at his firm, the office manager, who was blatantly gay, and Max had always respected how comfortable he was in his sexuality. His thought his cousin, Brenda, was gay, but she never said it. And one of Brandon’s friends was a boy who was adopted by a lesbian couple. They were very loving, both with the boy and each other. But that was in the future. Acceptance had come a long way in twenty years.
But he had never been close friends with a gay person. How would his friendship with Nathan be different, now that he knew the truth?
“Why do you feel you have to deny who you are, Nathan? It’s like you’re denying your happiness. Do you honestly think anyone will think less of you?”
“Frankly, yes.”
He’s got a point, Max thought as he reflected upon about how gay rights had progressed. Ellen DeGeneres didn’t come out until 1997. Neil Patrick Harris was still cute, little Doogie Howser on the show still running on television and wouldn’t confirm his homosexuality until 2006, at the age of thirty-three. Could he comfort his Nathan right now in telling him that this little boy genius doctor on television was also gay?
“The thing is, Nathan, it’s nobody’s business but yours about your sexuality.” Here comes the 42 year-old man. “People who don’t accept you for who you are aren’t worth your time. And the sooner you accept th
at, the sooner you can move on with your life and maybe find happiness.”
Nathan looked into the face of his friend. Even in the dim light, Max could see the tears streaming down his face. He felt the pain of his friend’s agony, but part of him experienced a sense of relief—that there really was a human beneath that tough exterior. Maybe Nathan wasn’t as self-assured as Max had always thought.
Chapter Thirty-One
September 2, 1992 at 10:03 a.m.
The changes in Max’s new life had both dazzled him and left him exhausted. If I were to list them all, Max thought, it would fill up a book the size of the freakin’ Brooklyn Yellow Pages—and that would just be the prologue! This new life had marked his soul with an almost profane, indelible graffiti that God had splashed against the wall of his heart. There was too much of everything. And not enough of what Max had hoped for.
As he and Garfield strolled around Vancouver’s Kitsilano neighborhood one sweltering day, Max wasn’t just sweating from the heat—he felt the toil of Life II slowing him down. Kitsilano was where Garfield now lived on his own. Max was just visiting, on a stopover to see his parents and his old friends before returning to a brand new semester of graduate school.
“I really need to just get away,” Max reflected, as they navigated past the limping winos and bag ladies in this part of the city. “I’ve had a lot of things on my mind. I feel like I’m living two lives at once. I feel like I’m going insane sometimes.”
Max chuckled. If only Garfield understood the irony of the statement.
“How do you deal with that, bro?” Garfield asked with a smirk.
“Mostly I don’t. I’ve just thrown myself into my studies.”
Garfield whistled. “Very impressive. And you’ll need it. You and Nathan are going to medical school after all.”
Max sighed. “I’m exhausted thinking about it already.” Truth be told, ever since Max resolved to take more initiative on learning by himself—and not studying with Nathan so much—his marks had slid during his final year. It fell to Nathan’s father—a bigwig within the tightly knit medical community—to deliver a glowing letter of recommendation for Max, thus sealing his admission to medical school. Whew, Max thought, still hating how much he depended on others to mark his trail through the forest of life.
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