Visionary Part 1: 1st Draft

Winter, 2010

I swallow back another vision as I finish ringing up a sale. “Three dollars and fifty-seven cents, please.” I say as calmly as I can manage.

“Are you all right?” asks the middle-aged woman I am helping. It’s a question I’m used to. My visions come to me at any time, and they often shake me to the core. I’ve learned to mask my emotions as well as I can, but seeing yourself die in endless lives takes it’s toll.

“Yes. I had something in my eye.”

“Oh.” As the woman reaches into her purse for the money, I momentarily reflect on my last vision: I was a priestess in a middle-eastern country, serving The Goddess. I had a high station, and was well-respected by the people of my kingdom, because as long as I had had my position, there had been no famine. “Here you go.” says the customer, handing me a five dollar bill.

I open my register and take out her change. “One dollar and forty-three cents is your change. Have a nice day.” I say with a smile. As she takes her bag of toilet paper and leaves, I breathe a sigh of relief. The small retail store I’m working in is now empty, and I can allow myself to feel the pain of losing Her yet again. It’s always the same in every vision. I fall in love with Her, and She with me. But we always have to choose between our relationship and something else. We can never be lovers and completely accepted by others. More often than not, we’re murdered. By my count, I have died at least two hundred and thirteen times of unnatural causes.

I rub my forehead, even though it’s my stomach that feels upset. I feel like I have been on a rollercoaster ride. Tossed and turned. Excited and scared. My last vision had been particularly vivid:

She had been another priestess, and while we had been bathing, she came to me and made love to me. Our love had been sweet as honey. We sang to each other, and put lotuses in each others’ long black hair. It was a beautiful time, but it only lasted a week. The other priestesses thought we were betraying The Goddess by loving each other so fiercely, so one morning they poisoned our wine. It was a slow, painful death, but I had Her with me.

I put my hand over my mouth and suppress a cry. Seeing Her die never gets easier, whether it’s peaceful or violent. It makes me physically sick, like I am seeing my own hand cut off. She is a part of me.

I wonder for the millionth time what She will be like in this lifetime. We have been every ‘race’ there is. We have served kings, chiefs, gods, and ourselves. We have murdered, nurtured, cleaned, and restored people and things. This time, She could be a hardened police officer, or soft-spoken librarian. She could be a Catholic, or a Buddhist. She could be full of bitterness and hatred, or overflowing with kindness, and love. I miss Her, but I don’t want to see Her again.

I have had visions were we have never met, and I have lived a peaceful life, though it was unfulfilled without her. There have also been lifetimes were I’ve married men, and had children. We have both betrayed each other numerous times for a more peaceful life, but We have never been completely happy without each other.

A loud crash from the back of the store breaks my thoughts into pieces. I leave my register to investigate. I hurriedly scan the aisles until I reach the display of water bottles in packages of six. One of them is smashed on the ground, and is leaking into the aisle. The water is spreading, like a river. I turn around and come face to face with Her.

She’s my complete opposite this time around. She has the stereotypical blonde hair and blue eyes that this society treasures, though hers is naturally curly and cut short, framing her soft, heart shaped face. Her nose is spunky and upturned, and brown-gold freckles are dusted over her cheeks. Her lips are full, pouty and naturally red. She’s fitter and shorter than I am as well, and I suspect her present age is younger than mine. Her fashionable jeans and tank top are in stark contrast to my polo shirt and slacks. In her hands, she’s holding paper towels, to clean up the mess she’s made.

“Ma’am.” I whisper. “I’ll get a mop.”

She shakes her head, looking down at the water, which is now touching my sneakers and her sandals. “I’m sorry.” She whispers back. She looks deep into my eyes, as if She can see everyone I’ve ever been.

I walk away, going for a mop in the utility closet. I tell myself She can’t possibly remember me, that I can just let her go this time, but She’s right behind me, placing the broken water bottles into the utility sink. “You didn’t have to do that.” I whisper, though there’s no reason why I should.

She nods, smiling at me. It’s a beautiful, shy smile. “I know. But it was my mistake.” I walk past her, grab a ‘Wet Floor’ sign, and start mopping up the water. Instead of leaving, or going back to shopping, She follows me again, watching me silently. I don’t look at her, trying to hold back tears of pain and joy. I feel like I’ve found a piece of myself. That I’m finally complete. “I’m Lydia.” She says suddenly.

I nearly choke. Her name was Lydia in the times of The Roman Empire. “I’m Claudia.” I tell her my name from that time without thinking.

She grins as if she’s won something. “Your name tag says Natrea.” I look away, hurt. I don’t know if she’s teasing me because I work in a retail store, or because I’m ‘black’. “My drivers license doesn’t say ‘Lydia’, and I think you know why.” She reaches for me, to massage my shoulder in apology, but I pull back.

“I can’t do this with you any more.”

“Do what?” She asks innocently. “We’ve only just met.” I have no idea what she’s playing at, but it’s obvious she remembers…something about our past. Maybe she thinks I won’t believe her. She steps toward me carefully, as if I’m a deer she’s trying not to spook. “I can make this up to you.”

I shake my head. “No. It’s just water.”

“We always meet near water.” She says knowingly.

I shake my head again, fighting back tears. I have been careful to avoid bodies of water for as long as I can remember, but it seems fate is laughing at me again. “No.”

“It’s okay. I missed you so much-” My manager walks into the store, interrupting us. I rush over to him, relieved.

“Did you remember to get enough change for this weekend? The bank is closed on Monday.”

My manager rubs his bald head, and strokes his goatee. “Sure did. Anything happen when I was gone?”

“Just a little water spill, but everything’s cleaned up.” I hear ‘Lydia’ set a package of water bottles down on the counter.

“I think I found what I was looking for.” She grins at me.

“I’ll be in the office putting the change away, Natrea.” He tells me, oblivious to the situation. Before I can come up with a good excuse to keep him up front until I can get rid of ‘Lydia’, he’s gone.

I scan the water with my hand scanner, and ‘Lydia’ immediately puts her hand on top of mine, trapping it on top of the water. “My name is Judy, and I’d love to take you dancing. You do dance don’t you? Everything changes except for the fact that you sing like an angel-”

I take my hand back. Hers are soft, but I can detect the strength behind them.  “That will be three dollars and six cents.”

“Why are you acting like this? For the first time we have a real chance-”

“Not to repeat our past mistakes.”

“Right!” When she realizes what I am telling her, she drops her smile. “Wait, you can’t mean that everything we’ve been through has been a mistake.”

“I don’t want to suffer anymore. They’ll kill us.”

“This country isn’t like most. There are laws. No one can just kill us outright without repercussions.”

“That doesn’t mean they won’t try.”

“You’re scared. I understand that. But we always end up together because we’re supposed to be together.”

“This is the first time we’ve remembered any of it, though. We have a choice-”

“And I choose you.” She touches my hand again. “I’ve waited my whole life for this. It’s been hell watching all these people, all these kids being happy because they don’t remember a damn thing, and knowing you were out there somewhere. Natrea, please. Please say you’ll see me.” She raises my hand to kiss it, as if it is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

“Well, Natrea, don’t let the lady beg!” laughs my manager, cracking his wrinkles. In our heated talk, I hadn’t heard him return.

I take my hand back, furious. “That will be three dollars and six cents, ma’am.”

She cries immediately. “Things are going to be different this time…” she whimpers.

I feel a tightness in my throat choking off my air. I wish I can take back my harshness and throw it away. “I’m sorry.” Judy hands me the money, a crisp new twenty dollar bill. While I’m getting her change, she hurriedly writes something down on a piece of paper.

I give her the sixteen dollars and ninety-four cents, but she grabs my hands and pulls me close. It reminds me of Antioch when we met at a port. I had been selling fish, and she had tried to steal one. I had grabbed her thieving hands, and was about to beat her, when I realized how beautiful she was. She had had the strangest blend of hazel-green eyes then. Gold with rings of emerald. She could have gotten away with robbing the king himself with those eyes. Instead, she chose to get away with robbing me. “I’m not letting you run away.” She whispers to me. “I’ve been looking for you, and I’m not letting you get away again.” She traces the outline of my face. “I’ve always thought you looked the most beautiful in dark skin.”

I push her away, stunning her. “Stop. Just stop. Okay?”

She breathes deeply, shuddering slightly, as if she’s about to cry again. “Alright. Goodbye.” She takes her water, and walks out the door. I look down at the paper she’s left. It’s her phone number, written in light blue ink that seems to glow against bright white paper. The blue ink doesn’t surprise me. Blue has always been her favorite color, just as red has always been mine. I throw away the paper, but it seems like the blue sequence of numbers have burned themselves into my mind. I know her number by heart.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” My manager comments mischievously.

“I don’t.” I answer truthfully.

“It’s all right if you’re gay. I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Other people do.” I start adding plastic bags to the bagging area to end the conversation, but my manager is the chatty type.

“So how long have you known her?”

I give him the same expression that has stared down kings and priests alike. “I don’t want to discuss this with you.”

My manager throws up his hands, knowing my moods. “Alright, it’s none of my business, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s head over heels in love with you.”

I pause, letting his observation sink in, as he walks away to assemble a display for a sale tomorrow. He’s right. Judy wants to pick up right where we left off. She doesn’t care about the hard lives we’ve lived. She loves me now. She loves me and it scares me.

For the first time, I want a vision. I want to know what to do, how to deal with Judy. What to say to her. But nothing comes.

When the customers come in and make their purchases, I barely see them. My polite answers to their questions are automatic and mechanical, as if I’ve become some half-living thing. I didn’t feel this way before. Knowing the truth about my past has never been easy, but  at least I could feel. Judy’s taken a piece of me with her. I know it.

After I clean up the store and lock it up for the night, I pause outside. It’s so cold I can see my breath. I scan the empty parking lot, wondering where she is, what she’s doing, and how she took my heart so fast. When I close my eyes, I see her number, illumed against my eyelids. I pull out my cell phone, and hesitate. Is she married? Does she have children?

As upper-class Victorians, our passion nearly consumed us both, and destroyed our families. We had both been married, with three children between the two of us, when we had met outside by a fountain during a ball. She had been a rather plain dark-haired woman, with a shy disposition that hid a quick intelligent mind. On the other hand, I had been a more beautiful blonde, less intelligent, and perhaps even cruel to a point. After snubbing her at the dinner table, she found it quite easy to expose my lack of knowledge about fashion, and embarrassed me. What followed was a short summer ‘war’ fought out in clothing, and forced politeness to each other. It only ended after I decided she looked increasingly beautiful, and decided to invite her to tea to call a truce. I drank no tea that afternoon, I drank Her. By dinnertime, I knew her body better than her husband. We had a short passionate affair that was discovered by my husband returning from a fox hunt earlier than expected. Our reputations were ruined. To avoid going to asylums, we were forced to go to separate convents. I spent the rest of my life regretting that we had ever met.

I put my phone away, and run to my car, as if escaping my past is a distant possibility. I start my engine, and let it warm up my car, chasing away the cold ghosts of my memory. I turn on my radio, and frown at the ‘music’. Singers don’t sing any more, they entertain. After all the wondrous music I’ve heard over my lifetimes, to see it reduced to trivial little beats with mediocre models panting over them is heartbreaking. I sigh, and turn off my radio. Only she knows I can sing beautifully. I’ve tried to keep my talent to myself as much as I can, but I know I will eventually start taking it seriously and find a band or something. I wonder if she can play an instrument. I doubt it. Her fingers are too soft.

With my car warmed up, I drive home. I give a brief hello to my mother, and go directly to my room. The house phone rings, and it sounds strange to me. I hardly ever use it, since I have a cell phone. The name on the caller I.D. is Patricia Wright. I don’t recognize it, so I don’t answer the phone. I turn on my computer and try to distract myself with chess against another player with the screen name JwRi-36. I haven’t lost a game of chess in over a year, not since I had a vision of myself as the wife of a medieval baron, obsessed with war strategy. Judy was my lady-in-waiting, and would often console me when my husband went into violent rages. He had been a cruel bastard, and I probably wouldn’t have taken the risk of loving her in that lifetime if he had been more kind, since I only craved gentle affection at the time.

After greeting each other with generic hellos, we make our opening gambits. I am surprised to find that my every move is matched by Jw, almost as if the player is reading my mind. The game stretches on for more than an hour, before I decide to call it a night.

Goodnight, I type into the chat box politely.

Immediately, JwRi-36 types back, Natrea! Please call me!

I shut my computer off immediately. I know it is unlikely that Judy has hacked my computer, but I don’t want to take any chances. I don’t know a thing about her this lifetime. I want to listen to something by Sade, or Luther Vandross, but I know their sad love songs will only intensify the longing in my heart. I want to call her, but I can’t risk hurting her, or her hurting me. My house phone rings again, and again it’s a Patricia Wright, who I have never heard of before. I wonder if Judy has lied about her name, and I decide not to answer the phone.

My mother knocks on my door and asks me about the name on the phone. I explain I don’t recognize the name, and she thankfully leaves me alone. I quickly make the decision to call Judy, or whatever her name really is. If she doesn’t stop calling, my mother will eventually answer the phone, and I can’t predict how that conversation will go.

I dial Judy’s number twice and hang up twice, my heart racing all the while. I finally hold my breath and dial it again.

“Don’t hang up!” cries Judy over the phone.

“Stop calling me.” I tell her.

“How’d you know it was me? I didn’t use my cell.”

I don’t answer her. I’m not trying to start a conversation. “Don’t play stupid. I figured it out. Just stop calling me, alright?”

“Don’t you want to know anything about me? Anything at all?” Her voice sounds small and a little heartbreaking.

“Stop that. Enough. I am not going to do this with you. Forget me.” My words are rough with pain.

“How can I ever do that when I love you more than anything?”

“Impossible.” I state. I don’t have the breath to say anything else. She’s taken it along with my heart now.

“As impossible as being reborn hundreds of times? Now who’s playing?” I don’t say anything. “Has any lifetime ever been complete without me?”

“I’m not answering that question.”

“Then I’ll answer it. No lifetime has ever been complete without you, whether I’ve been your slave or your mistress, your murderer or your rescuer, your queen or your beggar.” The fire in her voice burns me. She means every word. I wonder if her face is flushed as she is speaking, impassioned with love. “We’ve been given a chance to be happy this time around. That’s why we have all our memories.”

“We don’t have the first one. There’s something we’re missing. Something we’re not seeing.”

“See me, Natrea. Maybe we can discover it together.”

I can hear the deception in her voice. “You’re too passionate about me. You’re not concerned about the truth at all.”

“I’m concerned about you. How’s your life? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Not if you’re scared of me. I work hard, I don’t do drugs, unless you count drinking. I don’t steal or hurt people or animals. Do you like dogs? I have a Golden Retriever named Spike, but he reminds me of-”

“Are you married? Do you have any children?” I blurt out.

“No and no. I guess those are the most important questions, right?” She took a deep breath. “I’m guessing you’re not married and don’t have children either.”

“No. I’m not, and I don’t.”

“That’s good.” She was quiet for a moment. “So come see me.”

“We don’t live in San Francisco. People talk.”

“Talk is mild compared to being tortured, or outright murdered, which isn’t going to happen.” There was an undertone of anger in her voice. “If you’re scared, you shouldn’t be. I’ll protect you.”

“So you’re my defender this lifetime?” I let myself chuckle at that. She barely looks nineteen, and I’m twenty-one.

Judy chuckles back. “Well, I am twenty-four.”

“You’re older?”

“You’re younger?” We both spontaneously burst into laughter. “Well, it’s good to know we can surprise each other.” Again we are quiet until Judy speaks again. “I really could, you know.”

“You really could what?”

“Defend you. From anyone and anything.”

“But can you defend me from yourself?”

“I wouldn’t hurt you, and I know you wouldn’t hurt me. Stop prolonging this. You’d learn a lot more about me face to face.”

I sigh. I already know enough about her. She’s beautiful, compassionate, and in love with me. “You’ll keep trying to see me, even if I say no to meeting you?”

“I think your fear is talking more than your heart. You can come see me in public if you want.”

“I don’t think a date is a good idea.”

“It won’t have to be a date. My band is playing at the sports bar in town.”

“You’re in a band?” I ask in surprise.

“Yes. The name is ‘Cherry Blue’.”

“You still love blue, don’t you?”

“Yes. I have a blue guitar, and my car is blue too.”

“Don’t forget your eyes. They look like lapis lazuli.” I mention without thinking.

“You like my eyes!” She exclaims. I deliberately remain silent. “I like yours. They’re so soft. I knew exactly who you where when you looked at me. Do you know what I think? I think you lead with your heart. That’s the real reason you won’t see me. It’s not about some karmic curse. I think you’re afraid of yourself.”

I inhale harshly. “Don’t think you can read my mind because we have history. I’m not going to dive into your arms just because it’s a pattern we’ve been repeating.”

“Do you love me? It’s a simple question.” I close my eyes, wishing for a vision that will make it easier for me to answer that question. All I see is blackness. I silently hang up the phone. Judy calls me right back. “I know I’m pushing you hard, but you have to remember why I need to know you. We could have a lifetime together, or we could have just another day. I will not spend the rest of my life wondering if I lost you because I didn’t try hard enough. My band plays tonight. We start our first set in another thirty minutes, and we play until one o’clock.” This time, she hangs up the phone.

I squeeze my cell phone against my palm until my fingers are numb. For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do. I want go to her, but I know it’s not a good idea. I’ve always been able to predict, based on my experiences, what is the best option is in any situation. The safest option is to ignore Judy. To go on living my life as it is. But I want her. With every passing moment, I want her more and more. I want the woman I laughed with as we bathed in the Nile. I want the woman who gathered the last purple crocus’ of spring and gave them to me when we were Cherokee. I even want the Spartan woman who broke my Persian body and killed me with her bare hands. I want all of her.

I shower and dress quickly before I can change my mind. I put on my nicest pair of jeans, and a dark red shirt. I hope she likes the shirt. She has always preferred me in dark reds to bright reds. I go into the refrigerator and retrieve an old makeup bottle. It no longer contains foundation, but a perfume I made from an eclectic mixture of jasmine, myrrh, and sandalwood. No one alive remembers how to make it, but I have the advantage of having lived as a distiller in India. I don’t doubt that Judy will remember it. It is a perfume I made especially for her in that lifetime. Apparently history has repeated itself.

“What’s in that bottle?” asks my mother, who has come into the kitchen for a cup of herbal tea.

“Some perfume I made.”

My mother shakes her head. “You can do so much better, Natrea.” she tells me for the thousandth time this lifetime. Every time she sees me do something she regards as unique, she wonders why I don’t pursue the craft. I know better. I’m just rehashing old dreams. Going through the motions of lifetimes half-forgotten by history. Any work I do has no true meaning. I stare at her and say nothing. If she only knew what I was capable of. I don’t want to relive old memories, retracing the footsteps of women long dead. I want to make my own future. But how can I do that when my one constant from the past is waiting for me? I rub my head, momentarily feeling the weight of the present is more heavy than the weight of the past.

“I’m going out.” I tell my mother.

“You have work tomorrow.” She says warningly, and I dislike her for it. I fulfill all my obligations. I know I am the not the most expressive or sharing daughter, but I am responsible enough. I hate her questions and reminders. I can’t help but feel insulted by them at times.

“I know.” I tell her. I don’t intend to stay under her roof any longer than I have to. As soon as I figure out what I want, I will leave. I know I’m not what she planned on: a strange daughter who carried herself like a woman before she was ten. My mother looks at me, as if she doesn’t quite know who I am, and then turns and goes to her bedroom. I feel momentarily guilty about my stoicism. She’s been one of the best mothers I’ve ever had, but she hates lesbians. She thinks homosexuality is the ultimate sin in her opinion, even worse than murder. Even though it wouldn’t be the first time a mother turned her back on me, to be rejected by this one would hurt. I’m sure of it. I start to knock on her door to tell her goodnight, but think better of it and just leave.

The sports bar isn’t very far from my house. I’m there in five minutes. Since it’s a Friday night, the parking lot is nearly crammed to capacity. I nervously exit my car and walk inside. The bar is full of mostly middle-aged adults, with a spattering of twenty-somethings here and there who are too broke to go into The City for some real entertainment. It’s smoke filled, rowdy, and beer is continuously poured from taps and pitchers like water. A few of the bar patrons recognize me from my store and wave hello. I wave back, and avert my eyes, too nervous for conversation. I look around for Judy where the band is setting up, but I don’t see any signs of her, save for a beautiful blue acoustic guitar on a stand that I assume is hers.  I reluctantly take a seat at the bar.

“Hey, Natrea! First time I’ve ever seen you here.” The bartender is Tracey, one of my regular customers who always buys Cheese Nips, Sprite, and Gushers every Tuesday.

“Well, I’m always waiting on you hand and foot, I thought it was about time you returned the favor.” I joked.

Tracey laughed, shaking his beer belly. “What would you like to drink?”

I smirk momentarily. American alcohol is weak compared to what I used to drink in the past. “Give me a shot of whiskey.”

“Whiskey? Woo, big drinker. Any particular brand?”

“Jim Beam.”

As Tracey pours my drink, I see Judy come out of the bathroom and head for the stage. I don’t call out to her, but she seems to sense I’m watching her of her own accord. She turns her head and looks directly at me. She smiles joyously and waves at me. I wave back, and find myself smiling too. As she walks over to me, I can’t hear anything else but my heart beating.

“Hey, Trea. I’m glad you could make it.”

I smile shyly at the new nickname. “I like music, and I’ve never seen you play, so here I am.”

“What are you drinking? Whiskey?” she says, looking at my shot glass.

“Yeah, it’s kind of lightweight, but what else is there?”

Judy bites her lip and grins. “I’ve got some mead. I distilled it myself.” She takes a deep breath and beams at me. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes. It’s the perfume I made for you.”

“Wow. That brings back memories-”

“Judy! Get your butt over here!” Interrupts a tattooed man holding an electric bass guitar. He’s as lean as a vampire, and looks like he doesn’t see the sun on a regular basis.

“Alright! Give me a minute!” she yells back at him. “Sorry. I guess I better start warming up.”

“Break a leg.” I tell her, losing a little of my shyness.

She blushes as she leaves, turning beet red in seconds. “Thanks! Thanks so much!”

I find myself grinning broadly as I turn back to my drink. I haven’t felt so good in a long time. I throw back the whiskey and let the bitter warmth spread through my throat and chest. “Wow that’s good.” I breathe. Judy picks up her acoustic guitar, plugs in her amp and starts going to town. I’m impressed, and then I remember she was an excellent flamenco guitar player at the turn of the 20th century, and an even greater violinist circa 1725. She glances over to me as if asking if she’s any good, and I smile and nod.

It’s a five piece band. There’s Judy, the bass player, the lead guitarist(who has several face piercings), a drummer, and a lead singer. Everyone in the band sounds competent enough, save for the lead singer, who has had too much to drink already. I find myself cringing as the singer stumbles over a mini rendition of “Without You”.

“Thank God they’re turning his microphone down.” notes Tracey, as I see the lead guitarist flick a switch on an amp.

“Is that guy always like this?” I ask him.

“For the past month or so, yeah. It’s a damn shame. They sounded really good before.”

“Hmm. That sucks.”

“Tell me about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if they kicked him out of the band tonight-”

“Hello…hello everybody! This is Cherry Blue, and I am so drunk right now…” says the lead singer with a shit-eating grin. Everyone in the bar erupts into nervous laughter, and the rest of the band looks absolutely mortified. “We’re going to play…what are we going to play you guys?”

“ ‘Every Rose Has It’s Thorn’.” says the annoyed bass player.

“Right. Right. Right. Roses and Guns. Right. I totally got it.” The singer promptly passes out and falls over.

Judy is the first one to check on his vital signs. “He’s alright everyone. He’s just out of it.”

“Well that’s a fucking tragedy!” yells Tracey sarcastically.

The band frantically discusses what they are going to do,  and after a few minutes, Judy breaks away from her band mates and comes over to me. “Hey. We have a bit of a problem.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“I was wondering if you could sing with us.”

“Me? This sounds like a setup…” I reply.

“This will be a huge favor to me, and I will totally owe you. If we don’t perform, we don’t get paid, and I don’t exactly have a 9 to 5 job right now-”

“I’ll do it.” I sigh. “Are you guys just a cover band?”

“Yes.”

“Just Guns n’ Roses?”

“Pretty much anything classic rock.”

“I think I can work with that as long as you guys can play at least half an octave lower for me.”

Judy stares at me, blinking rapidly. “You have a deep voice?”

I chuckle. “Well, it’s deeper than Axl’s.” The drummer was starting to drag the lead guitarist outside. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“He’s gonna get dumped in his car to sleep it off-”

“Is she gonna sing or what?” cries the bass player impatiently.

“One of these days, Alex! Straight to the moon!” threatens Judy.

“Just get her over here so we hear what she sounds like.” He orders.

“Well. You’re up.” Judy tells me. I stand up and follow her to the band. “Everyone, this is Natrea. Natrea, the guy on lead guitar is Bent, the drummer is Kringle, and you’ve already heard Alex’s loud ass-”

“How good are you?” interrupts Alex for the third time.

“You tell me after I warm up. Turn up my mike.” I adjust the mike and belt out the first verse of ‘Magic Man’ by Heart. It isn’t until after I am done singing that I realize that everyone in the bar is looking at me. “What? Haven’t you ever seen a real live singer before?” I asked.

“No!” says half the bar.

“Huh. I guess that means I’ll have to spoil all of you, at least for tonight.” I grin.

“Just for tonight? We need a new lead singer, and you fit the fucking bill!” crows Alex, excitedly covering up my mike. “Where’d you find her, Judy?”

“We’re old friends. Now stop interrupting and let her get on with it!” hisses Judy.

“Can you guys play ‘Kick It Out’?” I ask.

“Sure.” says Bent casually.

“Good. Start the intro.” I playfully remove Alex’s hand from my mike, and start moving to the music. I forget everything but the music, and Judy by my side. There’s chemistry between us on stage. I can’t keep myself from dancing in her direction, and she can’t help but tilt her body towards me as her fingers fly over her guitar strings. I glance at her a few times and allow myself to think, damn she’s beautiful. But I catch myself before I get carried away.

After ‘Kick It Out’, we play ‘Black Betty’ by Ram Jam, and various songs by The Kills, Goo Goo Dolls, and Aerosmith. There are three sets, and during the breaks I talk to the other members of the band. They have all been playing together for the past four months, and I sense they all have a real rapport with no petty squabbling or bickering yet visible to me. They consider themselves to be musicians first, and entertainers second, which I respect. After our last song, the bar wants an encore, and we reward them with ‘Without You’. I close my eyes during most of the song, finding myself thinking about Judy. I can’t help myself.

“If you have a man or woman you want to go home with, do not let them go!” I say encouragingly as I end the song. By now, mostly everyone is trashed, but they still manage to cheer. “This is Cherry Blue everyone! Goodnight!”

The owner of the bar makes a beeline for the band before I can even think about putting my mike down. “If you guys replace that other guy with her, y’all will be the official house band. I haven‘t sold so much alcohol since I opened this place!”

“Deal.” says Alex, before I can answer.

“What? Don’t I have a say?” I say in surprise.

“You got something better to do on a Friday night besides make money?” replies the bar owner.

“How much money are you talking about?” I want to know.

Judy grins and lifts up a pickle jar, crammed with dollar bills, and a few fives here and there. “All that, and a hundred dollars a night.”

“A hundred between the five of us? That’s nothing to write home about. And what if it’s a slow night and we don‘t get many tips?” I reply. I know the band is still rough around the edges, but we’re good. And with me as lead singer, we’re damn  good.

The owner is silent for a moment. “If you make less than forty dollars in tips for a night, I’ll throw in another twenty-five.”

I look at everyone else, and they all nod in agreement. We’re not exactly headlining our own world tour. “Okay. What nights do you have in mind?”

“Definitely Friday, at least. If I need to book you for a Saturday, I’ll pay you the same as on a Friday.”

Again I look at my new band mates, and they nod their heads frantically. I grin and stick out my hand to the bar owner. He shakes it. “Agreed.”

I help everyone pack up their instruments excitedly. “You can sing and negotiate? Oh, baby!” says Alex, as the band is lugging their instruments to their cars.

“Where have you been all my life?” teases Kringle as he stuffs his subcompact with his dismantled drum kit.

“Shut it, you guys. She’s taken.” says Judy, with more firmness than I anticipate.

“They were just joking.” says Bent, loading the amps into his pickup truck. “Dating inside the band isn’t a good idea anyway.”

“God knows I’ve tried!” says Alex, winking at Judy.

Judy just gives him a withering look. “Not even if you paid me.”

I suppress a smirk. “Ouch!” exclaims Kringle.

“Come on, Natrea, I’ll tell you when we have rehearsals.” says Judy, waving me over to her car.

“Bye you guys.” I say, before following her. Judy pops the trunk of her car, and carefully places her guitar within. “Do you want to sit inside with me while my car warms up?”

I nod yes without thinking, and immediately get nervous. My feelings for her have only intensified. “Just for a minute. I’ve got to go home.”

Judy smiles at me. “Sure.” We both get in. “Thank you. We would have gotten kicked out if you hadn’t decided to sing.”

“Decided? You pretty much guilt tripped me into doing it.”

“But you liked it.”

“Of course I liked it. I got to do what I love to do best. And as a plus, I got to do it with you-” I immediately turn away from her. “Uh…shit.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I felt the same way.” She’s blushing and looking at me. I know she wants to kiss me, and I’m reminded of how dangerous it is for us to be together.

“I…can’t!” I say, covering my eyes with my hands. “Don’t-”

Judy holds my wrists and gently uncovers my eyes. “I wasn’t going to. Calm down.”

“But you wanted to.”

“Maybe you wanted to.” she says teasingly. “What exactly are we talking about?”

I shake my head and change the subject. “What time is rehearsal?”

“Seven o’clock on Tuesday.”

I grimace. “I work every Tuesday. The store doesn’t close until nine.”

“And your schedule is?”

“Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. Two to nine.Except tommorrow I also have to come in early and cover a morning shift.”

Judy grins. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I laugh out of sheer nervousness. “Alright, stalker.”

She just looks at me, her eyes dropping to my lips and then to my neck. “You have no idea how much willpower it’s taking not to kiss you.”

I stop breathing and look back at her. Studying the outline of her beautiful face, and wondering if it would be such a bad thing to let go of all my fears and be with her again. “You know I do.” She goes for it, planting one on my lips. I don’t pull away. I half expect to have a vision, but nothing happens. It’s just a kiss, unexpected in it’s normalcy. She tastes like mint, the fresh kind, and I suspect she’s sneakily chewed peppermint leaves while I haven’t been paying attention to mask all the vodka she’s been drinking. I’m flattered she thought that far ahead, even though I’m practically her ex-girlfriend. When we pull away, I have a smile on my face. “You taste good.”

“Thanks.” she beams.

We both jump when we hear a banging on the window. It’s the former lead singer, apparently half-sober. “Judy? What’s going on? Did I fall asleep?”

“Shit!” she exclaims. We both realize that it will be up to Judy to explain that he’s out of the band. “You passed out on stage, remember?”

“No. I don’t remember anything.” He peers into the car. “Who’s that in there with you?”

“My friend.”

He chuckles. “She looks hot from where I’m standing, but that could be because of the gin I had earlier.”

I frown, glad that in this lifetime I have a choice in who I want to be with. “I’m not interested in you. Especially since you‘re an alcoholic.”

“What? Is it illegal to get a few drinks in before I sing?”

“No, it’s not illegal, but it does get you kicked out of a band if you pass out on stage.”

He chuckled. “Right. Who would kick me out of Cherry Blue? I’m the lead singer.”

“It’s already happened.” offers Judy coldly.

“Great joke, Jude.”

“Did you honestly think we were going to wait for you to sober up? We needed this gig.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am serious. We’re not going to wait for you to get over whatever it is you’re going through.”

“So you’re speaking for the band now? Where’s Alex?”

“Alex is out buying his little girl some much needed shoes with the extra money we made tonight.”

The ex-lead singer chuckles. “You’re lying.”

“I’m glad I’m not lying. You really need help.” says Judy firmly.

“There’s nothing wrong with me! You drink more than I do!” he says accusingly.

“When I drink, I don’t end up face down on stage afterwards.” snarls Judy.

“Who replaced me?” His words have layers of desperation, fear, and anger that I am all too familiar with. I hit the automatic lock on Judy’s doors out of instinct.

“Judy, get us out of here.” I say slowly. There are few things more dangerous than a humiliated, half-drunk man. Me and Judy have suffered at the hands of men like him for centuries. But I’m not about to let that happen tonight.

“Get away from my car, Rex.” Snarls Judy as she puts on her seatbelt. I can hear the rage in her voice, and she sounds almost like the vikingr she used to be, but I can tell she is terrified by her shaking hands.

“What are you going to do Judy? Are you gonna run me over?” His voice is both teasing and threatening, like a bully tormenting a much smaller child.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do, if you don’t fuck off.” Her voice is cold now, almost inhuman. I’ve heard that tone several times, and at least twice before, she’s killed me while using it. I freeze and look at her.

“Fuck you!” He bangs his hands flat against the glass, and Judy revs her engine.

“Back away, or so help me…!” Her voice is raised in roar.

The man is too far gone to stop his tantrum. “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck-” Before he can finish, Judy reverses her car, leaving him sprawled on his ass in the parking lot. Judy doesn’t give him a second glance as she peals out and onto the main road.

Things are silent in the car for several minutes. Judy holds her steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip, and until she relaxes, I don’t think it’s safe to even ask where she is driving to. “Where are you going?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t go home like this.” She’s trembling, bad. The rage is gone, and it’s replaced by naked fear. How many times have we been attacked? How many times have we been raped? She’s not afraid of Rex. He’s a creampuff compared to several hundred other men, long dead. Judy pulls into a nearby motel, and cuts her car off. Then she leans over her steering wheel and cries. I rub her shoulders, knowing exactly how she feels. After a minute or two, she sits up and looks at me, her tears falling down her round cheeks like raindrops. “I’m sorry. I was just…so scared.” She apologizes.

I just take her in my arms and hug her, holding her until her sobs stop. “It’s okay. He can’t hurt you. I won’t ever let him.”

“You were right. It’s not ever going to be easy for us.” She brushes her fingers through her hair in distress. “We didn’t even do anything wrong. And he still came after us.”

I realize that her mind is not focused so much on the present as much as the past. “When Rex started yelling, what life did you think of?”

She stares at me, her blue eyes haunted and unfocused. “I thought of Troy.”

I can’t find any words to console her as I remember:

Of all my lifetimes, my experiences as a woman in Troy had been one of the worst. We were slaves our entire lives. I was of Babylonian origins, although I knew nothing of my parents, and Judy knew even less of her own origins, though she suspected she came from somewhere in the southern regions of Greece. In any case, we had nothing. No rights, and no one to turn to. The estate we belonged to was one of many owned by the king, and we were there to work it. We hadn’t been pleasure slaves by any sense of the imagination, though we were forced to serve the king or his nobleman whenever they required it of us. It was even worse when the city fell and all of the surrounding land was raided. We were raped endlessly by the invading army, considered nothing but the spoils of war. When we finally were able to escape, we killed ourselves by drowning ourselves in the ocean. When I had first had a vision of that life, I was depressed for two weeks, barely eating anything at all.

“He isn’t as bad as those men were.” I point out as soon as I recover from the memory.

Judy shakes her head, tossing her short locks. “I don’t want to go home.” I nod my head in understanding. Sometimes after a very vivid vision, I go to a park and sit on a park bench for hours, just trying to take the edge off.  She takes my hand in hers, gently. “If I got a hotel room, would you stay with me?”

“Yes.”

She lets out a deep breath, and squeezes my hand, rubbing my knuckles. “Thank you. I thought that I was going to have to beg.”

I kiss her hand softly. “It’s okay. I know what it’s like after you…see things.”

Judy nodded, and brushed her hand through her hair. “I just want to go to sleep and…forget.”

“Okay.” Judy releases my hand, and she walks halfway to the motel lobby before looking back at me. I intend to wait in the car, but Judy walks all the way back to me and motions for me to roll down the window.  “Come on.”

I hesitate, not wanting anyone to guess the truth about us. “Do you really need me to-”

“Yes. I really need you.” She leans inside and kisses me, hard. Our kiss from earlier is nothing compared to this one. It’s hungry, and the longer it lasts, the more of her I want. We breathlessly break apart, and I get out of the car and walk inside the motel lobby without another word. Judy strides up to the front desk, where an older woman is sitting. The woman is in her late forties with graying hair at her temples, and a blotchy and wrinkled complexion from too many cigarettes. She reminds of so many women I’ve known before. I can tell by the hardness in her eyes that she expects nothing but the worst from everyone. She glances at Judy and stares at me. “I’d like a room, please.” Says Judy politely. She takes my hand out of view of the motel clerk, who sits behind a tall counter. Judy squeezes my hand tightly, and I wonder how she can keep her voice so calm.

“How many nights?” The woman doesn’t ask as much as she croaks the question. And still, she only looks at me.

“One.” Says Judy, this time with a visible frown.

The woman turns to Judy and squints, as if she’s trying to identify a new kind of bug. “And how many beds?”

Judy just stares back in confusion, and I answer to avoid any trouble. “Two beds. Non-smoking please.” I rub my thumb over Judy’s hand, hoping she won’t protest.

“That’ll be forty-five dollars. Plus a fifty dollar deposit if you don’t have a credit card.”

“I have one.” I pull out my mini charge card that I keep on my key ring, and give it to the clerk. She checks my driver’s license and studies it, probably memorizing my information with her cold grey eyes. She hands me back my plastic and I pocket the information. She disappears into a back room and comes back with more plastic. It’s a keycard for room 119.

“Thank you.” says Judy, stiffly, taking the keycard.

The woman stares at her for several seconds without speaking. “Last room down the hall. Left-hand side.”

I release Judy’s hand, and we walk down the hall together. It’s a short hallway, but the walk seems long, with the ominous flicker of halogen lights overhead. Judy opens the door quickly, and I walk in behind her. She hugs me as I turn around. “What was wrong with that woman?”

“I think she guessed…about us.” I rub her back. “Don’t worry. She could have told us there was no vacancy if she really wanted to.”

“That’s why you told her two beds.” She pulls away and looks at me like I’ve done something terrible. “I’m not going to hide who I am, Natrea. I’ve suffered for too long not to be myself.”

“That’s your choice, but remember what could happen.”

“How can I forget?” She sighs and sits on one of the beds. “I can’t believe you paid fifteen bucks extra just so you could get me this room.”

I shrug, not seeing it as a big deal. “I just wanted you to be okay.”

Judy smiles. “Thank you.”

I sit on the other bed, suddenly shy. We’ve kissed twice tonight, and we’ve already been together in every position and body type imaginable, but I’m still afraid. In this lifetime, I haven’t been with anyone. “I’m just going to go to sleep.” I say before she can ask me to join her on her bed. “I still have to go to work in the morning.”

Judy nods. “Alright.” We both crawl under the covers in our separate beds. Although Judy falls asleep in a few minutes, I’m still awake. I’m worried about what could happen to us. I’m worried about our future, if we even have one. I wish I could have some assurance that being with her is a good thing, but I don’t. Hundreds of lifetimes are crammed inside my head, and I still don’t have a clue as to what I should do.

I hear Judy crying in her sleep, and I look at the motel alarm clock. It’s four a.m., but my mind isn’t on work. I climb into bed with her, and slide down the sheets. “Wake up.” I say, touching her cheeks softly. She blinks in confusion.

“Chipatsua.” She whispers to me. “I thought I had lost you again.”

I kiss her, unable to help myself. “Kashwiri.” I sigh. These are our names from one of the few lifetimes where we were happy.

I had been a widow in southern Africa several thousand years ago, and had inherited my late husband’s land, with two small children to care for. The land was isolated, and things were complicated further by a war that was being fought in the country. I didn’t think there was any way that I could possibly finish reaping the harvest. One day, as I was walking down the king’s highway, I found her unconscious on the road. She had a serious wound, but with the help of my children, I was able to bring her to my home and care for her until she regained her senses. She told me she was a mercenary who had lost her entire company during a siege of a city. She offered to stay with me to help me bring in her harvest, as payment for saving her life. I helped her as she grew stronger, and we became something like sisters, until we started sharing a bed. Even now, I can’t remember anything that comes close to the sweetness of our love at that time. We were able to live out an entire lifetime together, without any persecution from anyone.

I kiss her again, running my fingers through her curls. She wraps her arms around my neck and brings me closer. I move my hands over her tank top, cupping her breasts. I feel one of her hands slide into my panties, and I whimper as she touches me. I slide her tank top up and suck on her breasts greedily. Judy is having trouble pulling down my shorts. They’re tight and they feel almost like a second skin, so I help her remove them. She sinks a finger deep inside me and starts fucking me immediately. I stroke against her fingers, gasping and breathless. For all the experiences I’ve had before, it feels like the first time. I let my fingers creep into her panties and touch her there.Right there. She whimpers, but her fingers don’t hesitate inside me. We draw our heads closer together, curling tongues and lips in impossible patterns. We continue until we exhaust ourselves, and Judy is asleep again. It’s 6:30.

Ignoring my rising panic which warns I am due at work in an hour, I snuggle close to her. She looks like a sleeping cherub with her soggy blonde hair, and her skin still pink from my touches. I’m glad she fought so hard to get me to see her. It was more than worth it. After fifteen minutes, I know I need to go. When I try to pull myself away from Judy, she wakes up, her blue eyes open wide with panic.

“You aren’t leaving, are you?” she asks, clinging to me.

“Yes. I need to get to work. I haven’t even showered yet.”

She runs her hand over my body. “Give me a minute, and I’ll take you back to your car.” She takes my nipple in her mouth, and sucks on it slowly.

“Judy, I need to go.” I protest.

She merely pulls my lips to hers and kisses me for a full minute before letting me go. “Okay.” She finally agrees. We get up, shower, and get dressed. I drop off the card key with the clerk, who eyes us with suspicion. I’m too sexually fulfilled to care. Judy holds my hand on the walk back to the car, and I don’t mind, even though we pass a family of tourists in the parking lot who stare at us. We sit in the car for a moment before I reach over and kiss Judy. She grins and bites her lip. “Thanks.” She strokes my hair slightly, and we buckle up. My mind is flooded with questions. Are we a couple now? Should we move in together? The drive to my car is a short one. I wish I didn’t have to go to work. I just want to stay with her.

“What are you doing tonight?” I ask.

“Nothing important. What are you doing?”

“Nothing important.” We grin at each other.

“When do you get off work?”

“Two thirty.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

I roll my eyes, but my grin creeps out from behind my mock frown. “Between your nightmares and your fingers, what do you think?”

She blushes. “When do you want to meet up?”

“Around eight.”

“Are you sure you won’t be too tired?” she asks, holding her breath.

“I’ll be fine. Sleep is for people who don’t have girlfriends.” Her eyes open wide, and she hugs me tight. “I was terrified yesterday. Meeting you like that. I saw the lifetime when we were priestesses.”

“Me too. It was a short and beautiful life.”

I press my head against her neck, and let the tears come. “I don’t want to keep dying like that. I love you, but I don’t want to die.”

“We’ll be careful. I promise we’ll be careful.” She says, touching my face.

“Okay.” I say, collecting myself. I kiss her goodbye, and then I get into my car and drive home. My mother is there waiting for me.

“Where have you been?” she asks.

I shrug. “I joined a band.”

“How are you going to do that and work?”

“It’s only one night a week. Maybe two.”

“Hmph. You better not be doing any drugs.”

I ignore her and take a quick shower before getting dressed for work. I feel a wave of anger wash over me. I don’t want to work any more. I’m more than just a retail clerk. I’ve been a warrior, a poet, a musician. I’ve ruled over people, and interpreted messages from Gods. I’m more than this present occupation. I swallow my pride and leave, somehow managing to make it to work on time. I walk into the store quickly with my head down. My manager is putting the opening tills in the registers to start the day. He looks at me and does a double take.

“Is everything alright?” He asks in concern. I don’t know what my facial expression is. I just feel tired, angry, and a little lost without Judy.

“Yes. It’s just been a long night.”

He nods. “That girl?”

I smile slightly. “Yes.”

He laughs at that. “Good. I thought you were going to let her get away from you.”

I shrug. “We have history. It’s hard to just shut someone out of your life when they know you so well.”

He grins. “I bet she gave you one hell of a goodbye last night.”

I blush at that. “It was more like a long hello.”

“So you two are still-”

“Together. Yeah. I couldn’t shake her even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. Not now anyway.” I babble. My mind isn’t working the way it is supposed to, and I know it is because of the lack of sleep.

My manager nods. “Grab some coffee in the back before you start. You look like hell.”

I smirk sarcastically. “Gee. Thanks.” I go into the break room in the back, pouring a large cup for myself. I take the coffee black, with  no sugar, letting the hot liquid burn my mouth a little. It isn’t as good as a handful of kola nuts, but it’s good enough to keep me going. Most of the day is uneventful, except for a few customers who come in and recognize me from the night before. They ask me when I will be singing again, and I tell them to save their tips for next week. At two o’clock, Judy walks in with a brown paper bag, and plops it on my register.

“I hope you’re hungry. I made you fresh empanadas and churros.” She says brightly. Her hair is dampened with sweat, and there are small patches of flour on her hands as if she just finished cooking.

My heartbeat is almost audible as I look at her. “Thank you.” I say with a grin. I take out a warm empanada, and bite down into the spicy beef center. “This is so good.” I tell her appreciatively.

“Wait until you try some of my mead tonight.” she says with a wink. “I’ll see you at eight.”

“Bye.” I watch her leave, my eyes glued to her hips swaying in her jean shorts. I look back to see a customer staring at me, looking at me and then Judy’s retreating backside.

“Is that your…friend?” Asks the customer. I recognize him as one of the high school students who come in regularly for candy and snack foods. He’s a pudgy redhead who dresses in all-black, but overall a good kid.

“Yes.” My reply is short and to the point. I don’t say anything else, but my silence and his confused expression says it all. He scrapes up some pennies to give me exact change for his gummy bears, and I thank him and tell him to have a nice day.

“Something smells good.” says my manager, coming down the main aisle.

“It’s an empanada.” I say, holding up the grease-soaked paper bag filled with the fried goodies.

“What?” he stares at me in confusion.

“It’s a beef patty. Want to try one?”

He grins. “That girl of yours must be really special. I can’t remember the last time you offered me anything.”

“Well, she made more than enough for me.” I hold up  the paper bag, and my manager takes a patty. I laugh when he starts to fan his mouth. “Too hot for a big man like you?”

“What the hell did she put in those things?” He asks, frantically gulping a soda.

“Chili powder. It’s traditional.”

“That patty damn near burnt my mouth up.” He says, with a grin. “It’s pretty good.”

“I’ll tell Judy you said so.” I let him have some churros too, and before I know it, Tyra, the evening cashier is coming in to relieve me. I leave the store at two forty-five, eager to be done for the day. I pop in one of my favorite Cds into my car stereo system, and enjoy the ride for once. I roll the window down and tap my fingers to the beat of “Carry On Wayward Son” by Kansas, enjoying the breeze. I can’t remember the last time I’ve done this. Then again, I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this happy.

When I get home, my house is empty, and I take the opportunity to pass out in one of the recliners in the living room. It’s a soft one, covered in a soft fabric that reminds me of bearskin. I frown at the comparison. I’ve never touched bearskin before. I blink, and I have another vision.

In another life, I was a warrior in a time I don’t recognize from any history book. I was born into a time when tattoos are more common than earrings, and my pale, milk-white body was almost completely covered with blue snakes, green dragons, and black wolves. When I came of age, I killed a bear, and made a cloak from it’s hide. It kept me warm from the treacherous cold, and I was known for it, since few people could kill a bear on their own. Shortly after I killed the bear, my people went to war with another people. They were similar in appearance, tall and willowy, with long, curly hair, but their tattoos were red bulls, orange foxes, and yellow birds.  She was one of my adversaries. There was a great battle, so great that of all the warriors, only she and I were the last ones standing, gravely wounded. We stabbed each other at exactly the same moment, looked at one another, and fell. It was our last attack. We no longer even had the strength to remove our blades. In our final moments of life, I offered her a truce and welcomed her into the warm embrace of my bearskin cloak. It was there, in the cold of winter, that we died.

When I come out of my vision, the sun is setting, bathing me in fuchsia light. I check my watch and realize that it’s seven o’clock. I rub my head, trying to let my past life slip away, but the old sensations stick to me as stubbornly as the remainder of the churros and empanadas in my stomach. My mother comes home from work and bends over me, touching my shoulder.

“Are you alright?” she asks. I can only nod my head, remembering the pain of being stabbed, and the cold taking over my body. My mother comes closer and looks me in the eyes. “What are you?” She asks me.

“I’m…” I find myself hesitating as I try get my thoughts in order. “Natrea.”

“You had to think about it? Where do you go when you dream?” She asks me. She’s always been concerned about me, but this concern has grown into fear. I can see her fear as she holds my shoulders so she can look me in the eye.

I shake my head. Even though I’ve had visions since I’ve been able to speak, I’ve always been careful about telling anyone the truth about what I see. “I’ll be fine.” I manage to say. “I just need some sleep.”

She sighs. “If you hadn’t stayed out all night long doing God knows what, you wouldn’t have those dreams.”

The phone rings before she can continue to lecture me, I run to answer it, knowing it must be Judy. The caller ID doesn’t disappoint. “Hi.” I say into the receiver, a bit sourly.

“About stabbing you-”

“There was nothing else you could have done. I stabbed you too, remember?”

My mother went ballistic. “You stabbed someone?!”

I grimace, realizing my mistake. “Judy, my mom’s in the room.”

“Oops.” says Judy.

“I’m talking about a video game, Mom.” I say dryly.

My mother rolled her eyes and retreated into her bedroom. “I think the next thing I’ll buy you is a cellphone.” giggled Judy.

“It’s not that funny. We’ve got to be more careful about this.” I whisper.

“Sorry. I guess this means you still haven’t slept.”

I groan. “You’ve got that right. Reliving twenty-something years in four hours is no joke.”

“If you want to go out some other time-”

“No. I need to see you again.”

“Are you sure? Even after what you’ve seen?”

“Yeah. I’ll be ready by eight, like we planned.”

“Okay. Should I come and pick you up?”

“No. I’ll meet you at the waterfront at the lakeside gazebo.”

“That’s kind of deserted. How do I know you’re not trying to get revenge on me?” Her voice is suspicious, and it’s almost as if we’re on opposite sides again.

I momentarily ask myself how well I know her. “I guess you don’t know. Then again, I don’t know what you’ll do either.”

“I guess I’ll just have to trust you.” she says. “And thank you.”

“For what?” I ask, bewildered.

“For making my last few moments a little more comfortable. No one ever made things easy for me in that life. Not even once." "I’m sorry I didn’t meet you sooner. The closer we came to death, the more familiar you seemed. Like an old friend.”

She pauses for a few seconds, probably to let my words sink in. “I should get ready to go.”

“Alright. I’ll see you lakeside.”

“Love you.” She says quickly before hanging up. Her words make me freeze up a bit. I know she loves me, but to hear her say it, excites me. I shower and dress quickly, then sidestep my mother as I’m leaving my house.

“Where are you going?” I hear her call out to me.

“Just out.” I say over my shoulder as I climb into my car and quickly start it up. I don’t wait for it to heat up. I just want to see Judy as soon as I can. I drive over to the lakeside gazebo, and cut off my lights. It’s dark save for a few dim streetlights. I step into the gazebo and sit on a bench. It’s cold. So cold I can see my breath rising out of me like freezing steam. I wrap my coat around me securely, and wait.

It doesn’t take long for Judy to pull up next to my car. She cuts off her lights and slowly walks into the gazebo. The flimsy floppling sounds of her sandals seem almost musical to me as she walks up the steps and sits next to me on the bench. “It’s so cold tonight. I almost broke out my heavy jacket from New York.”

Judy isn’t dressed for the weather. Like the day before, she has on shorts, a tank top and sandals. “Come here.” I say, opening up my jacket to her. She embraces me immediately, slipping her hands underneath my arms. I am overwhelmed by how warm she feels against my body, and I close the jacket around her to keep her as warm as I can. I feel her raise a hot bottle to my lips, and I sip the sweet, familiar taste of mead. The last time I tasted it, I called it berz, in my native Ethiopian tongue. “Is this what you wanted?” I ask after I swallow the mead slowly. “Did you want the embrace I couldn’t give you before?”

She rubs her forehead against mine slightly, and takes a sip of mead. “Yes. Even though we were enemies. I wanted you. We missed so much in that life. What was the point of it?”

We take turns sipping the mead before I can come up with an answer. “I don’t know. I wish I knew why we need each other in every lifetime.”

“We’ll figure this out.” She kisses me, and I can taste the honey wine on her tongue. Soon, I’m dizzy from the mead and her lips. She smoothes her hands over the front of my long-sleeved shirt, pinching my breasts eagerly.

“We…can’t.” I pant, as the cold air sears my lungs with every deep breath. I pull away, but her insistent mouth on my neck makes me relent. Those sweet lips of hers can make me do anything she wants, I realize. “Sweetie…” I whimper. “Not here.”

I can sense that we are in a very dangerous position. I pull away from Judy just as I see a pair of headlights shine on us. A large hard knot forms in my stomach, as I see a police officer exit the vehicle. Judy’s grip tightens on the mead trapped between us. If we’re caught with it, there will be charges of public intoxication, as well as a charge of illegal alcohol production. But there is no time to hide the mead. I quickly turn the small bottle upside down and drain the precious contents onto the ground, behind us and on the outside of the gazebo. I hope the cop is too ignorant to recognize the discarded mead for what it is. If he knows what it is, Judy and me are in trouble.