LIVE TWICE

 

I am seeing double. It could be the wine or... my truth. Sometimes I get this feeling that this life is not my own. Like I am but a lost piece that’s not fitting anywhere in this world. I don’t know how I got here. All I know is a lot of things, or maybe everything, in my life does not make sense. Why is life a mystery? Give me a map. Is that too much to ask? One last gulp at the wine. I throw the bottle on a pile in a bin and burst out laughing. What I really want to do is scream. I want to scream so loud, but the last thing I want is attention. Perhaps I should scream, so my neighbour can have a good reason to gawk at me strangely. I don’t know his name, but every time I bump into him in the corridor, he looks at me like he knows my secrets, like he has heard the screams and knows why I scream. He invades my wet dreams sometimes, dreams that feel more like memories than dreams. Sometimes I see him, and he feels like someone I know from another life. Ridiculous, I know. Let’s call it weird. He is weird after all.

I turn up the music instead, then pick up a cushion from my messy couch and swiftly hold it against my face and scream! Coward.

I grab the bronze penny that hangs around my neck, and the ground beneath my feet steadies. I resign myself to the couch. Tired. I turn off the music, sit back, and look at my surroundings. This place is messy. I am messy. I stagger to the bathroom to try and brush away the stench of alcohol from my tongue, but it’s coming from my nose at this point. I give up and go to bed. I haven’t made the bed today, which is good because I don’t have the energy. And there is my phone under the sheets. No missed calls, no texts, no social notifications. Oh wait, I deleted all my social media handles. I am a coward. I could not stand seeing one more happy face when I am this miserable. As far as missed calls are concerned, I have made it clear that I am nobody’s friend and nobody’s girlfriend. He left me, finally. I didn’t belong with him. I never felt at home with him.

I fall face down and drift between this waking world and the possibility of another. Dreams remain a mystery to me, one I prefer to avoid if I can help it. Drunken sleep helps. No analytical thinking. Your mind just shuts up as soon as you shut your eyes. No voices saying you don’t belong…I can’t hold on to my consciousness…

I wake up across the bed as usual. It’s morning. For a moment I fear that I may be late for work, which sends me into a mini-panicked state, before I see the date on my phone and remember that I work from home. I caress the penny necklace, take a deep breath, and settle into my wakefulness. I call it a penny, but really, it is just a plain bronze piece the size of a penny. I have a terrible headache. It feels like I’ve hit my head on a wall. I drag myself to the bathroom. I catch my reflection on the mirror and wish I hadn’t looked. My hair stands in all directions. My face is ashy and marked by dark circles under my eyes. I go in search of just one more bottle, but my kitchen is empty. 

Back in the bathroom, I take pain pills. I drag myself to the kitchen. The fridge is empty. Eating a good adult meal means going out there. Not today. Cereal will have to save the day, again. I have no mask left to put on for the world, none that I still know how to wear right, anyway.

I sit in front of a TV, but cannot find anything of interest. At some point I fall asleep, and by the time I wake up, it’s 6:30 pm. The day just went by like that. What would happen if I live like this and ignore the need in my core to do anything meaningful with my life? What if I ignore the need to find someone to fit in with? What if I just exist and wait for the end? 

I need some air. I go to the window, but the air is not enough from here. I am at the door when it dawns on me that I might see him. My neighbour. Why do I feel excited about the possibility? I roll my eyes and unlock the door. A gust of cool air hits my face. Oh, so heavenly.

It’s been three days since I’ve been out here. I lean by the steel bars facing the parking space and the back of another apartment building. Nothing special about the view, but the air is fresh. The silence and sobriety give the darkness in my mind free rein. This is what I hate about being sober. My thoughts scatter to places I don’t understand. I wrap my hand around the penny necklace to remain in this reality, and as always, it grounds me. There are dreams buried beneath the rubble of my alcohol-soaked mind, but when I’m sober, they come together in perfect pictures. I see myself dressed as one would in the 1800s, a corset and all. I am walking on the side of a railroad, carrying a suitcase. Behind me, someone calls the name Persia. I turn around, and it’s either I wake, or the dream stops there. I cannot tell if Persia is my name, someone else, or my destination, but it haunts me.

The second dream is scarier. I see images of my neighbour and me standing before a line of men. It feels dark, like something I should not be involved with. These men look to be a kind of society, a cabinet of some sort which consists of men of all races in black robes. One hands us square gift boxes. The kind usually used for expensive jewellery, but I never get to see what is in them. I never hear what they say. I’ve always wondered who my neighbour is standing in for, in my dream.

The chaos in my head is disrupted by an elevator dinging open two apartments from mine. From it emerges our building manager, two police officers, and a girl in her late twenties; probably my age. She is crying and looks like she is holding her heart in her hands.

“His phone rings in there, I swear,” the girl says as they pass me.

They stop at my neighbour's apartment. I am intrigued. Something must be wrong. They knock. I want to go back inside before they involve me, but I also want to see what happens next. The crying girl looks at me. Please don’t come back here. Look away. Go inside. She approaches me.

“Hi. Have you by any chance seen my brother Lance? He lives here, and I haven’t heard from him in two days. He has not been at work or anywhere, and I think I hear his phone in there. It’s not like him to not talk to me.”

I don’t remember the last time I’d seen him.

“No, I haven’t seen him, I’m sorry,” I say.

She looks at me like she does not believe me. Around her neck I catch sight of a beautiful bronze round-shaped locket that drives me into a state of deja vu. It looks oddly familiar, and I cannot take my eyes off it. I almost feel bound in place by the sight of it. She nods, and then one of the police officers calls after her. She turns away, and I can breathe again. I can move.

“Do you give us permission to break in?”

“Yes, please.”

The officer nods to the building manager, and he rummages through a bunch of keys. Wait, does he have a key for every apartment? I don’t know how I feel about that, but maybe it’s a good thing. If I ever die in there, at least they will find my body. But who would report me missing? I’ve pushed everybody away. I’m missing while I am alive. If I go missing for real, no one will know. They get in, and shortly there’s a scream. The girl runs out and throws up. She is sobbing now.

She sits next to her vomit and sobs. I don’t know what to do. Thank God the building manager follows to comfort her. I don’t know whether to go inside or stay here.

“What happened?” I hear myself ask, not sure if I want to know, but he is my neighbour. Nobody answers me. The police officers step out. One is on the phone. “There’s been a suicide in…” I don’t hear anything else. I rush into my apartment, shut my door, and lean on it. I can’t breathe.

I reach for my penny.

“You are okay. You are okay. You are okay,” I say to myself, out of breath.

I feel like someone has just punched me in the gut.

I gain control of my breathing and drag myself to the couch. He’s dead. What happened? Suicide. He killed himself. Why? I remember seeing him about a week ago. I remember thinking he looked like he had not slept in years. He had looked at me as though I were a mirror of himself. Like he knew me. I should have spoken to him. I feel sad for his sister. Death has a way of imprisoning the living when it frees the dead, assuming they are free at all.

I go into the bathroom. There are too many movements outside. I hear someone talk about a bunch of sleeping pills. I am caught between grief and envy. My thoughts drown in envy for my neighbour's courage. He has done the thing I’ve been afraid to do for a long time.

I keep thinking, what if the emptiness persists in death, what if it’s the same?

Maybe I should stop being a coward. My neighbour did it. He is free. Maybe. But he is definitely free of this world. I have no reason to stay. I don’t know who I am. Who I supposedly am doesn’t feel right. Sometimes even my name does not feel right. I fall asleep on the couch thinking I need my neighbour's courage.

There’s a knock on my door. I open, and it’s him. My neighbour. Is he not supposed to be dead? I never got the story. I never asked who died.

“I thought…wait, what happened in your apartment?” These must be the most words I’ve ever said to him. He has grey eyes. I’ve never seen that before.

“Let’s not talk about that, please. I can’t be there. Can I come in?”

This is new. I let him in. He looks fine. Better than the last time I saw him. Maybe even more confident. I sit a little far from him. I reach for my penny, but it is not there. I feel panic rise in my throat. I never take it off. What happened? Breathe.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask and hope to God he says no because I have nothing left.

He shakes his head in decline, and then there is silence. It’s becoming awkward. I am not good with company. He is scanning my apartment. I wasn’t expecting company. He cannot judge me. He has no right. He leans back.

“Maya,” he says. It almost sounds like he does not believe it’s my name. I can relate.

How the hell does he know my name though?

“I’m Jude.”

Jude. He scares me a little. Something is off about him, but I can’t tell what it is.

“Jude,” I whisper.

It sounds too familiar, and I know I did not hear it from his sister because she called him Lance.

“I thought your name was Lance.”

“It’s what they call me, but it’s a lie.”

“What do you mean?”

Turns out, we have more in common than I thought. Why can I relate to that?

He looks at me for a moment too long, and I don’t look away. This look is different. It’s like he has finally figured me out. He smiles. He has a gorgeous smile.

“Do you ever get the feeling that you don’t belong?”

“Did you read my diary or something?” I chuckle.

I feel transparent. He makes me nervous.

“You keep a diary? God, you sound different. Everything is different.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They were right. We are meant to live only once.”

There is pain in his voice, maybe regret. He is beginning to freak me out.

“I’m sorry, but you need to go.” I get up and walk toward the door.

“Wait.”

I stop and turn around. He is standing tall in the middle of my living room with a tender smile on his face. He walks to me slowly. His hand reaches for me.

“Come on, take my hand,” he says.

I look into his eyes a moment too long.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. Come on, trust me.”

I take his hand. As soon as my hand touches his, he pulls me into a tight hug. I don’t protest. He is warm and comforting. For whatever reason, I start crying. He holds me tighter, and now I am praying he does not let me go too soon. I hadn’t known I needed this. The comfort is suddenly snatched away by a weird sense of deja vu. It’s happening a lot lately.

“It’s familiar, isn’t it?”

I get out of his embrace and look at him. Did he get the deja vu too?

“Persia,” he whispers, like a prayer. I gasp. Nothing has ever felt so true. This is the voice that calls Persia in the dream. I look into his eyes, and nothing has ever felt so familiar. He smiles.

“Why do I...”

Why does it sound like it belongs to me? Persia.

“It is your name. For all the time I’ve known you, I’ve been wondering why you felt so familiar.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, Persia. I’m sorry I didn’t look for you hard enough. You must try, my dear. Live twice. Stop waiting for the world to feel right. It never will. Live this life, for both of us. Find your totem, but do not go back to them.”

I wake up. Jesus, that was a dream. I reach for my penny, and I am relieved to find it. Find your totem. I look at the penny. It is the closest thing that feels like my totem, but how could it mean so much? A piece of junk from a garage sale couldn’t mean so much, or could it? Persia. Persia. The sound of it disorients my reality. It sounds more like my name than Maya. What was that? Did I dream everything?

I go outside and look at his door. There is nothing out of the ordinary. It feels weird living next to someone who has killed himself. The entire corridor smells of death, empty and silent as a graveyard. It has always been the thing I love about this floor, the quiet emptiness like nobody lives here but me. Today feels lonely. His apartment door opens and startles me. I gawk at the door, waiting to see him, but his sister emerges instead. I release a breath of relief.

“Hey,” she says, rushing to me. “I’m Lasi. Lance’s sister.”

“Hi.”

She swallows nervously.

“I’m sorry. This may sound weird, but...Lance. He...”

The necklace around her neck is all I see. I can hardly breathe. Why does it feel like mine?

“Oh my God,” she whispers. She puts her hand over the locket, and I can breathe easy again. “He really did come to me, didn’t he?” she says.

“What are you talking about?”

“The way you are staring at this necklace. He said you would know it when you see it.”

“Who? Where did you get it?”

“My brother gave it to me when I was two. I’ve always had it, but apparently it was never mine. It was always yours. Who are you?”

“I don’t know. Keep it.” I turn away.

“Hey! My dead brother came from the dead to ask me to give you the one most important thing in my life. It must be for a reason. You have to take it. He made me promise I’d give it to you.”

I turn and look at her. She is holding out the necklace, tears flowing down her cheeks. I walk over slowly, and as soon as I wrap my hand around the locket, my entire world spins. I open my hand and look at it with horror. The penny around my neck snaps, like steel to a magnet, and connects to the back of the locket. I close my eyes as memories flood back in waves and waves of too many lives I’ve lived without him, and one lifetime I had him. I gasp and open my eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Jude.” A tear escapes my eye. The penny suddenly starts spinning and clicks the locket open. There is a painting of us, Jude and I, sharing a kiss in it.

“Wait, this thing opens?” she asks, shocked.

“Thank you,” I say and enter my apartment quickly.

I stand where I last saw him. My love.

“Oh, Jude. We were so close.”

For the first time, I recognize myself. My name is Persia Edwards, wife of Jude Edwards. We weren’t neighbours by accident. It was the universe’s way of bringing us together in this lifetime. Perhaps there is such a thing as the one, because I could never find anyone who felt right. It was always him. I remember what that cabinet of men in robes says. This locket, my totem, is meant to align me with my past life, but my past life is Jude, and he is gone. I feel the edges of grief that I know all too well closing in, but I refuse to let it in.

I change into something cleaner, grab my car keys, and drive to the gravesite. The old site that’s been abandoned for decades now. It is overgrown with grass and wild trees. It is a miracle nothing had been built over it. Side by side, our tombstones stand, washed up and old. Almost swallowed by grass. Same year. Two months apart. I lost him 200 years ago. The inscription on both reads, ‘In another life, I would still find you.’

This is why they chose us, to prove us wrong. Up ahead there is a tomb, a large old-fashioned one, where lies the door to where those men in black robes in my dream are. I walk to it. At the back of my head, I hear his voice. “Live this life for both of us, do not go back to them.” But how could I live without love?

As I near its entryway, the stone rolls open. If I go in, everything ends and starts again. God knows I’ve been here too many times before.

I’ve entered this tomb too many times only to return to a different life. At different times, in different circumstances and ages, I am back here, standing alone, having lived another empty life without him. If I leave this totem here, I could, as Jude has said, live twice... without him. If I choose to walk away with it, the ghost of him will haunt me to the end. Persia will remain stuck in Maya’s life.

I stand here too long. I almost feel like a ghost. I probably look like one. If anything, I feel dead where I stand. To the left of the tomb stands a cross-shaped gravestone, inscribed with words that restart my heart. ‘You will live on in our hearts.’ I have never seen this before. I look at the locket in my hand. It is a beautiful thing to wear for a lifetime. I hang it around my neck, turn, and walk away.