Past Lives (in progress)

Past Lives (in progress)

Chapter 1--Leaving

The blood felt slick. It pooled onto the kitchen floor around her head.

And her head felt like it had been hit with a sledge hammer.

But she was alive. She tried to get up.

Her legs were weak, but she made it. She slipped on the blood, though, and fell back down, sharply on her rump.

In all her pain, she chuckled wryly: insult to injury. Slipping on that banana peel. Greek tragedy turned Saturday Night Live comedy sketch. Sort of.

John was gone. Where was her daughter? Where was Naomi?

She heard a thin child's voice: "Mom?" It came from the doorway to the living room. Allie looked over toward her. The little girl looked horrified--frozen in position in that doorway, scared, unable to say more than that one word.

Allie managed to blurt out: "I'm fine, honey. Get me some towels, ok?"

The sense of purpose sent Naomi runnning to the linen closet upstairs. She came back with an armful of folded towels. She helped her mother wipe the worst of the blood off and get up. With faltering steps, Allie made her way to the bathroom. "I'm gonna take a shower, Naomi, and then we're going. Get some of your things together for tonight. We're going to Isa's."

Chapter 2--At Isa's

The knock at the door was sharp and desperate.

Isabel, comfortable on her couch, said "Yes?" in an irritated voice.

"It's me--let me in, Isabel. It's Allie."

The elderly woman slowly got off her couch and scuffled over the worn wood floor in her slippers. She unlocked the door and let in a woman in her thirties, dressed in shorts and t-shirt, holding the hand of a ten-year-old girl.

"Thanks, Isa. Oh, God, Isa, he's at it again."

This was obvious to the elderly woman. Allie's hair had caked blood in it, and there was a big blue and grey bruise on her forehead.

Isabel knew to make coffee and let the younger woman settle in with her child.

In a few minutes the hostess returned to the small living room with a tray of coffee and cookies. "Here, Naomi," she said to the unusually quiet child, placing the tray down on an old glass-topped table in front of the couch. "These cookies are fresh today. Oatmeal raisin."

The little girl had little interest in cookies.

Isabel knew what Allie and Naomi were going through--not from personal experience, but from close contact with her through the last ten years.

The little girl started crying.

"He beat me up, Isabel. He said he's going to kill me next time he sees me."

Isabel sighed long and loud. "Sure he is, dear. I'm sure he's too drunk to do much of anything. He's probably passed out as we speak."

Allie let out a deep sob, and reached over to hug her friend. "He broutht his drinking buddies over, Isa. They were all there, watching him beat me up. They did nothing to help me. Hell, hell, the gang's all here." She laughed bitterly through another sob. I can't stand it."

Isabel took Allie into her arms and stroked her hair. After a while, Allie sat back on the couch, pulling her child with her.

"I'm going to see if I can find you a place, or at least help you find one," said Isabel with resolve. "Maybe even something around here." She laughed. "You know the rents are cheap here."

Allie seemed crestfallen to hear this idea, although she had been thinking along similar lines. But to move to this inner city neighborhood? This--well, slum?"

"I'll tell you, Allie--again. It's pretty safe here. And it's a hell of a lot safer than living with Thomas."

"I know him, Isa. He won't let me go like that. He'll find me and ruin our lives. Even a court order won't deter him. And when he's high he's totally out of control--as you know well."

"Yes," replied Isabel, handing her friend some coffee. "I know, honey. But still you'll have a place to go and lock the door."

Chapter 3--Thomas

Thomas came home to a kitchen with blood pools on the floor and a living room that looked like a hurricane had it it. He pushed back some stray dirty-blond hair from his bloodshot eyes. He kicked some empty beer cans out of his way and slumped down onto the stained couch.

The phone rang. He picked it up. "Yeah," he said in a foggy voice.

"Hey, wake up." It was Andy. Andy was over last night with some friends.

"Unh."

"O. . . K. . . . I didn't mean to get you up, man. I just wanted to see how you were. You good, man?"

"Unh." Thomas was crashing from a night of whisky and speed.

"I'll call you later. Helene says hi."

Thomas put the phone back and keeled over on the couch. He slept for a couple of hours, then woke to the sharp stab of afternoon sun in his eyes.

He trundled into the horror movie kitchen and opened the fridge. There were the remains of a cake Allie had made a couple of days before. Chocolate with chocolate frosting. Thomas took the plate out of the fridge and peeled off the plastic wrap.

He sauntered back into the living room with a piece of cake in one hand and a bottle of Scotch in the other.

The phone rang again.

"Yeah?" said Thomas in a thick voice.

"Hey, man, glad you're awake," It was Andy again. "Me and Helene want to see you. You good to go?"

"Uh huh. Yeah. Lemme take a shower, ok? Gimme an hour."

After he hung up, Thomas ate and drank in front of the TV--he wasn't following the game, but the movement on the screen and the voice of the announcer felt like companionship. Then he climbed the stairs to take a shower.

Andy and Helene let themselves in--they had a key. They made themselves comfortable on the couch. Andy went into the kitchen to get them both a beer, whistling under his breath at the pools of red.

When he came back into the living room, Thomas was there, hair wet and combed, clothes clean and neat. He was a handsome man, some might say a beautiful man. But he had a conflicted look in the eye, and his teeth were just beginning to rot.

"You ready to go, man?" said Andy, sitting down next to Helene and handing her a cold Bud.

"Yeah, but let me get a beer first and then we can take off."

The three sat in the air conditioning and chatted until the beers were finished and Andy stood up. "Let's go, huh?"

"OK." Thomas walked toward the front door.

"Let's go, hon." Andy extended his arm to his thin and pale girlfriend, who was none the better for wear even though she was only twenty. But her figure was really good--no fat here--and she still had a pretty, though pasty, face and wide, innocent-looking eyes.

"We going to the club?" she asked as she walked to the door hand-in-hand with her boyfriend.

"Where else?" answered Andy a little snidely. He was beginning to get tired of this chick. Already.

3-Thomas' Visit

Isabel knew she had to put these two up for a while. There was no getting around it. But she had a tiny apartment--it was a studio, which meant it had a small kitchen and a bathroom and a combination living/sleeping room.

But Isabel knew how hard life could be. And she knew she had it relatively easy, finally. She had a small pension from her part time teaching job, from which she was retired. And she got a little Social Security every month. And she didn't spend much. Plus she got a little bit of income from her Tarot readings.

She put some blankets on the floor and Allie insisted on sleeping on them. Isabel, the older woman, must have the hideaway couch/bed.

The three settled down for sleep. Isabel turned the lights off and Allie cuddled her child. The floor was a bit hard but they were safe. Soon they were asleep.

And they slept for a few hours, until, just before dawn, there was furious knocking on the door.

"Alicia! Allie!" came a deep but raspy voice. "Let me in!"

Allie woke to her heart sinking deep into her belly. She knew who it was.

She walked over to the door hoping that no one else had been awakened.

"Go away, Thomas. You're wasted. Go away. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Let me in, Allie. C'mon. I want to see my kid. You kidnapped her. Let me see my f***ing kid."

Isabel was awake by now, and she motioned to Allie to cease arguing. "Let him in," she said,

Thomas heard that. "Yeah. Let me in, bitch."

Allie trusted Isabel's wisdom. So she walked over to the door and let her husband in.

He was pale and wasted, standing in the door frame like a sad ghoul.

"What?" asked Allie, coldly.

"I wanna come in and see my daughter. Let me see my kid."

"What for?"

"I wanna see her. Let me see her. C'mon. Then I'll go."

Alllie held the door open so Thomas could come in and see his daughter curled up, sucking her thumb and watching him.

"Why you making her sleep on the floor?" he said sharply.

"Because home isn't safe any more," said Allie. "And you know that. Don't you, Thomas?"

The tall but rather scrawny man sat down on the floor next to Naomi, who was crying. "Nome, don't you feel safe at home?" He reached out his right hand to stroke her hair.

She brushed his hand away.

"What are you on tonight, Thomas?" asked Isabel.

"None of your business, bitch." He wasn't used to cussing out older women, but this was the time to begin.

"Then why don't you just leave."

"Because my kid is here."

"And she's trying to get some sleep."

Thomas fumed. "You ugly Tarot ho. What do you know about my family, or anybody's family?" He furiously glanced over at her shelf of crystals, gleaming in the nightlight in all colors.

Thomas got madder. "Tell me my future, you manipulating witch. Tell me why you took my wife and kid away from me."

"I want you to go, Thomas." Her voice was firm.

"I want you to go, Thomas," he mimicked in falsetto. "f*** you. I go with my wife and kid. That's all."

"Then I call the police," said Isabel, picking up her phone. "You're trespassing."

"I'll be back. You f***ing morons can badmouth me and all, but the courts will give me my kid. I guarantee it. Allie doesn't got squat. Not f***ing squat. I'll get the kid."

Chapter 4--Preparing for the Past Life Regression

Isabel, Allie and Naomi finally settled into sleep, and it was late in the morning when they awoke. Street noises awoke them, along with sunshine streaming in the bay windows.

Isabel put on a pot of coffee and found something clean for Allie to wear--a baggy t-shirt with an old Pink Floyd print on it. Naomi had to make do with what she had been wearing--"but," Isabel said, taking the little girl's hands in hers, "we'll do laundry later."

Isabel pulled a package of eggs from the fridge and got busy with breakfast. It was a happy occasion, she felt with some surprise. It was as if she had a family. She had never really felt this way before, living alone most of her adult life. She wondered how long this good feeling would last.

"There's a lot of street noise here," said Allie, getting plates out of the little cupboard by the stove.

"No shit," said Isabel. "You get used to it."

Allie was used to Suburbia.

"I dunno," she laughed. "I guess so."

"Allie," said Isabel, flipping the eggs over, "I'd like to regress you. We might come to the bottom of some of the issues going on here."

"OK, Isa. Yeah. Let's do that. And as soon as I get a full time job I'm going to start paying for things around here. And I'll get my own place," she hastily added, hoping Isa would volunteer day care services.

Isabel flipped three eggs onto three plates. She put three pieces of toast next to them. She handed Allie a jar of strawberry jelly and together the two walked out of the tiny kitchen alcove into the crowded living/sleeping room.

Naomi took her plate and ate. The little girl slathered butter and jelly on her whole wheat toast and Isabel got her a cup of orange juice. The three ate their breakfast to the tune of honking and occasional yelling out on the street.

"Let's start this afternoon," said Isabel, taking a sip of coffee.

"OK." Allie smiled. She trusted Isabel to do the right thing--and she knew the old lady had the skills she needed.

"We'll wash up here and then go do some laundry, ok? Then we'll get to work."

"Sounds good," replied Allie. "Naomi, I'll get you some coloring books. How does that sound?"

That afternoon, Allie stretched out on the convertible couch. Isa lit candles and drew the curtains. She lit a bundle of white sage.

She began the relaxation exercise. Allie knew this well, as she had done it many times over the decade of knowing Isabel.

Isabel instructed her to relax her body, from the toes up. This took about half an hour.

Then Isabel told Allie to imagine purple light at the top of her head. Allie could do this very well, with her experience.

Isabel imagined a different color of light in each on of her chakra energy centers. Allie loved the soft but thrilling light.

Isabel sent Allie through a long astral tunnel into the past. Then she asked Allie to come up from the tunnel and tell her what she saw.