Liv Unravelled

by Donna Bishop

  Everything is chaotic — all I can see is a crush of people. Mama and Papa are trying to protect Hannah and Finn, but it’s terrifying.

  Papa finds a small alcove out on the deck in the shelter of a stairway. He corrals Mama and the children into the area and clutches the stair railing and a pipe, encircling them with his arms.

  A sailor comes by and shouts at her father to keep his family together, stay put and not go below deck to their stateroom.

  I get an image of Hannah’s mother in her long black coat, its soft grey fur collar buttoned up tight. Her dignified, upswept hairstyle is being ravaged by the wind and wisps fly across her face. She is trying to smile for the children’s benefit, but she’s pale and her lips are trembling.

  Finn begins to whimper with fear. Despite being very scared herself, Hannah tries to distract him with a clapping game.

  “Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.” Finn smiles tentatively as he tries to keep the rhythm, clapping his hands against hers.

  She tickles him under his chin, making him smile, but fear is still evident in his wide eyes. His dark brown curls are damp from the sea spray, his chubby cheeks are rosy. He squirms and buries his face in Mama’s coat.

  All is noise and turmoil — the other passengers are screaming, crying, or huddled together in frozen silence. Hannah is watching a woman and a young girl nearby. She recognizes the girl from the dining room the day before. They were seated at the same table and Hannah was entranced by the girl’s honey coloured ringlets and ivory skin. They were English, so Hannah couldn’t communicate much with the little girl, whose name was Winnie — but she hoped they could become friends during the voyage.

  Winnie’s mother is clutching a rope that dangles from the deck above and her daughter is desperately clinging to her legs.

  Then the worst happens. The ship shudders and drops suddenly, jarring everyone. Winnie loses her footing and her grip on her mother and falls onto the tilting deck of the ship. The sound of creaking, breaking timbers, high pitched squealing of steam and howling wind makes it hard to hear anything else but Hannah can hear Winnie’s pleading voice. Hannah watches her slide as the ship creaks and tilts further — Winnie is flailing to stop herself, but there’s nothing to stop her — and she rolls under the ship’s railing and disappears.

  It happens in slow motion — yet it happens so quickly that no one can stop it. All the way down the deck and falling through the air, she cries, “Mummy, Mummy, Mummy!” Her mother is screaming and lurching after her. She’s grasping the railing, looking down in horror and then her knees buckle underneath her.

  No one can move to save Winnie or help her mother or do anything. Other people have fallen and are screaming for help — people cling to the railings, metal and rope cables or iron rings. Hannah’s family is clustered in their corner, anchored by Papa’s strong arms.

  Winnie’s mother is pleading to God now. She’s on her knees, shaking her fists at the sky — her frazzled red hair has come unpinned and she looks like a wild woman. She tears off her wool coat and throws it over the railing and shouts “Winnie, take my coat to keep you warm,” which makes little sense, but only Hannah seems to be listening.

  Mama and Papa are trying to shield their children’s eyes from witnessing all of this, but it’s too late, they have already seen. Hannah’s eyes are locked on the woman, who is frantically scanning the water for a glimpse of her daughter. I feel a flash of outrage, and in the same instant, angry tears blur Hannah’s vision.

  “We have to help her, Papa!”

  His eyes transmit his mortification. “There’s nothing we can do, my love. If I were to go out there I would have to leave you.”

  Papa catches the arm of one of the ship’s crew, a tall man with a scruffy moustache and a deep voice, who breathlessly tells him to remain here with his family and that a lifeboat will soon be ready for them. Winnie’s mother now cries out angrily to all those around her.

  “Why did you not help my daughter?”

  Hannah ducks under her father’s arm, scrambles over to the woman and takes hold of her skirt.

  “I am so sorry.” She says it in Dutch, crying. “Winnie was so nice and so pretty, I wanted to be her friend.” Of course the woman doesn’t understand the words but she pulls Hannah to her body and holds her tightly.

  Hannah’s parents rush over, with Finn between them. They grip the railing and each other, enclosing the distraught woman along with their family. Bowing their heads, they recite a prayer aloud. Winnie’s mother joins in and they speak together to the same God, in their different languages.

  The pitching of the sea threatens to topple them off their feet, so they return to their alcove, drawing Winnie’s mother with them. She crumples into the corner. The family is observing the mayhem around them. It is as if they hope that by standing quietly together amidst the wrecking ship and raging water, they will be safe from harm.

  There are multiple cries from further back on the ship: “There are not enough lifeboats for everyone! Stand aside! Let me through! My children!”

  Papa turns ashen. His strong, square jaw is set in a grimace and his eyes are misty and dark. He pulls his yarmulke out of his inner coat pocket and puts it on his head, but the wind immediately catches it and dashes it to the deck at his feet. He picks it up and holds it against his face, shielding his family from his fear. Then he gathers them in his arms and they sink to their knees, bracing against the movement of the lurching ship, and pray through their tears.

  “Women and children first!” a crewman calls, and all is pandemonium as people clamber along the deck, dragging their loved ones along and jostling others out of the way. Great waves crash against the ship and run down the deck in cascades that wash people into the sea. A huge pile of heavy chain slides thunderously past, unwinding like a snake, knocking people down as it slithers violently across the steep slant of the ship’s deck. It goes the way of Winnie, under the railing and into the sea, without the anchor that was meant to hold it fast.

  A sailor strides over and scoops up Finn and sets off into the throng of people surging toward the lifeboats. Papa grasps Hannah and Mama and they burst after him. The sailor passes the squirming, wailing Finn to an old woman at the front of a lifeboat. Papa has pressed forward into the crowd and manages to catch a fleeting glimpse of his son’s contorted face before the woman passes him back, out of sight, into the crush of women and children huddling within. Papa is pushed back by the mob and clambers across the deck to rejoin his wife and daughter.

  “My Finn!” Mama calls.

  “At least he will be safe,” Papa says. He picks up Hannah and looks into her eyes. “I need you to be brave, my love, and look after your brother.”

  He begins to move once more toward the lifeboat, hoping to get her on also — but the crew has swung the boat out over the edge of the rail and are lowering it into the sea. The three watch in shock and horror.

  “Sir! Come this way.” Another sailor is gesturing for them to follow. He leads them toward the rear of the ship, where there are fewer people. Father makes sure Hannah and her mother have a safe place to wait and goes over to the crew, who are rigging a barrel to ropes and a pulley. They talk agitatedly for a few moments.

  When he returns, he whispers briefly in his wife’s ear, then bends to talk to Hannah.

  “Hannah, we love you so much. These men have a plan to save you, but you must be strong. The lifeboats are all gone, but they’ll put you in a barrel to escape the ship. Find Finn and look after him for us. When we are rescued, God willing, we will soon be united again.”

  Hannah’s mother joins them and she takes her daughter in her arms. Her face is drawn with sorrow and panic. Hannah tries to focus on her words.

  “God has blessed you, Hannah. Remember always who you are and what gifts you bring to the world. God is our refuge, our strength and our path.”

  Watching this breaks my heart — these are the last words she spoke t
o her daughter. And now Hannah is meticulously remembering the whole horrendous event, looking for meaning in every word, every action.

  The three of them are on their knees, entwined, on the deck. Their faces pressed together, her parents kiss her on the cheeks simultaneously. Mother buttons up her daughter’s wool coat just before Hannah is scooped up by one of the crewmen. He tells her not to be afraid, and then he lowers her into the barrel, which still contains several inches of whiskey.

  As she is being lowered in, she can see her parents holding each other — bracing themselves to lose everything and everyone they have ever loved. From the darkness of the barrel, she thinks she hears their voices joined in prayer. Shivering uncontrollably, she recites it in her head.

  God is our refuge and Strength

  Therefore we will not fear,

  though the earth does change and

  though the mountains be

  moved into the heart of the seas.

  Though the waters thereof roar and foam,

  though the mountains shake at the swelling

  Thereof... Shela.

  There is a river, the streams thereof make glad the city of God

  The holiest dwelling place of the Most high.

  God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved:

  God shall help she, at the approach

  of morning… Shela.

  Hannah is jostled as the barrel is hoisted aloft and lowered into the sea. Her heart pounds and her stomach wobbles with nausea. She scrambles up and grips the rim of the barrel, hoping to see her parents one last time — but the ship shifts again, rises ponderously, and with an ominous groan, capsizes fully onto its side. The resulting turmoil of the water causes her vessel to lunge and change direction and she’s thrown to its bottom, so she doesn’t see what must certainly be the death of her parents.

  “Liv, I’m going to bring you back. One, two, three, four…pull yourself away…five, six, seven… coming back to the present…eight, nine, ten. You are alert and feeling refreshed, calm and safe. Wow, Liv, what a journey that was for you. Me too, actually. Let’s take a few minutes to get grounded here again.”

  Celeste is there, right in front of her, leaning forward and looking at her attentively.

  “Just take a few big breaths. Plant your feet firmly on the floor and look at my eyes. Recognize our connection and the work we are doing together. Do you feel okay, Liv? Do you feel safe now?”

  “I just need a few moments to gather my thoughts and feelings. That was so intense. I feel extremely cold, like my spirit has been drowned in icy water.”

  Celeste reaches for the well-worn Navaho blanket beside her on the couch and wraps it around Liv’s shoulders.

  “There’s so much to take in. It feels like this little girl has so much to tell me — things I already knew at some level, but have forgotten.”

  Liv begins to relax back into her present surroundings — the artful clutter of Celeste’s home, the chatter of birdsong through the open window. No angry sea, no danger, no death.

  “I’m not surprised, Liv,” Celeste responds, “Our subconscious minds are chock full of memories, images and symbols relating to our struggles in this and past lives. Dreaming and hypnosis both bring them to the surface.”

  “I need to go back to see Hannah again. I have the strong sense that she survived. And she seems so familiar to me, like I really did live as her.”

  “Your connection to her was so vivid and full of emotion,” says Celeste, “It’s so amazing that Hannah took your visiting spirit back to the ship to share those last moments with her family. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

  “I don’t get it. How could I have been a little Jewish girl in a past life? I don’t think my family has any Jewish connections.”

  “Nobody really knows how it works, Liv. There are lots of theories. The prevailing belief is that souls are reborn into situations that will teach them the lessons they need to become a more enlightened spirit. Souls are reborn again and again, inhabiting any number of bodies…. It would be rare, I would think, for one to be reborn into the same family.”

  “Okay, I sort of understand.”

  “There are enough books written on this to keep you busy for the next thirty years. I kind of like the idea that when we die, our spirits go to a place that some people might call heaven. I see it as a vast, magnificent library in the sky.”

  “That’s a cool image.”

  “I have a picture of it in my imagination: there’s no ceiling, and the walls are lined with books and intricate tapestries and paintings depicting the lives of all souls. This is the place where spirits from the past, present and future gather. It’s here that we determine which body we’ll be born into, which life lesson each person will learn this time around. It takes centuries. Sometimes a lucky soul gets to stay in the library and venture back to a suffering existence only when it needs a break from the pure bliss of being there. Sorry for the long explanation, but you asked….”

  “So, who decides where a soul goes?”

  “The soul chooses where it will be born next.”

  “So, I chose my parents?” The idea makes her laugh and wrinkle her nose.

  “Yeah, if this concept of reincarnation is true.”

  “I guess I like that better than if it were just random — like a giant assembly line of souls needing bodies on one side, and bodies needing souls on the other. I can’t believe I’m talking like this! A few hours ago, I didn’t believe in any of this past-life stuff. But now I can see how this experience might help me tie some loose ends together.”

  Liv thinks for a moment, and then leans toward Celeste.

  “There’s one thing that makes me question all this. Starting when I was young, maybe four or five, I had a recurring dream, until I was a teen, that my bedroom was engulfed in a ferocious storm and I was riding my bed like a life raft, adrift in the waves, far out to sea. Out of the mist and the wind, a girl would appear, clinging to a piece of wreckage from a ship — holding on for dear life, strong, brave and singing. I would pull the little girl onto my bed and together we would weather the storm.”

  “Hannah.” Celeste’s eyes are wide.

  “Yes. I wonder whether, when you hypnotized me, maybe I just called up that old dream and made it into a story.”

  “It’s possible, Liv. In my experience, it would be unlikely under hypnosis, but you certainly tapped into something from your past, if not a past life.” Now she sits forward, looking into her friend’s eyes.

  “What most concerns me is your dream. For a child to have a recurring dream like that implies you were in danger — it sounds to me like you were a little girl with something terrible to deal with. Can you tell me what it was?”

  Liv pauses, then speaks tentatively. “You know, I don’t really want to go there right now. I always figured I must have created that little girl to be my imaginary friend.”

  “It’s possible,” Celeste says thoughtfully. “Or maybe she created you.”

  The two of them digest this statement silently, and then Liv gives a little shiver. She rises, laughing nervously.

  “At any rate, Hannah’s story is incredibly compelling,” she says brightly. “I really do need to find out what happens. Is it possible to pick up this same life, later on in another session?”

  “Normally I wouldn’t be sure about that, Liv. But you have remarkable abilities under hypnosis — you’re able to convey Hannah’s story as you observe it and spin it out in such colourful detail. I suspect you’ll be able to steer yourself wherever you want or need to go.”

  5

  ~ Lost and Found ~

  “Hey Liv! You're looking fresh today. Did you actually get some sleep?” Celeste greets her on the porch. Her gaze is concerned as she assesses her friend.

  “A little bit — I managed to take the time to have a bath this morning, and I’m less tense because Ross hasn’t been home for the last two days,” Liv says with note of irony.

>   “I know he’s okay because I called the university and talked with his great, gossipy secretary. Sometimes I think she revels in spreading rumours, although they do seem to be true. She said he was there yesterday, prepping for classes and raising a ruckus with the union. One of the other profs has been charged with sexual misconduct and Ross is defending him to the hilt, even planning a protest, she thinks. Christ, these guys are having affairs with students, screwing other people’s husbands and wives. It’s a hotbed of scandal — and Ross and I are centre stage at the moment, I suppose.”

  “Man! Life here in Little Mountain is pretty tame in comparison.”

  The two women enter the house. Celeste turns to go into the living room, but Liv holds back.

  “Would it be okay if we just had a little visit before we get into the session? I’m feeling so overwhelmed with my own life, I think I need to talk for a while before I’ll be ready to face Hannah’s life too.”

  “No wonder you’re feeling overloaded. Tell me about it,” Celeste says as she heads for the kitchen.

  “When Ross is away like this, I can’t stop torturing myself, imagining all these sordid scenarios between him and Anya. She’s so cool compared to me. She’s like a cross between Annie Lennox and Sinead O’Conner — her head is shaved, but it’s perfectly shaped. She’s skinny and she wears impossibly tight black jeans and a leather jacket. Both of her arms are covered in tattoo sleeves with gorgeous Celtic designs. Of course, she has everything pierced — her ears, her nose, her tongue and probably her clit too,” Liv says mournfully, hoping for a laugh.

  She cringes as she thinks about her own lack of “coolness.” She’s always felt somewhat confident in her physical appearance and in her ability to carry on witty, intelligent conversations. But put her in a room with a bunch of artsy extroverts and she’s sure to feel frumpy and shy with nothing to say.

  Celeste grabs Liv’s hand and says, “It's time for you to get it out of your system — it’s not even about you, what happened. You need to let go of that insecurity.”

  “I imagine the two of them locked in passion on his desk with students lined up outside the door. Him performing fellatio on her in the back of our car, doing things he’d never want to do to me — or I’d never let him. I imagine how it would feel if we broke up and she became my kids’ step-mom. What if they just love her?”