A Second Chance

“The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here.” The uncertainty in my voice is impossible to mask. I know this isn’t technically real but the sweat forming on my upper lip and the heart beating out of my chest are both very real and I don’t know how to make either stop.

“What do you see when you look around the room?” Lorraine’s soft voice and light squeeze of the hand assure . “Don’t worry, I’m here with you.” 

My eyes remain closed, straining to take in the scene that encompasses my mind and leave my fears and the physical behind. “It looks like I’m in a hotel room. There’s a painting of the city above the bed and a nightstand on either side. I can see suitcases that must be mine and I know I’m here, In LA, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve been here before.” I stop for a moment to take this feeling in “I don’t know the city.” A full breath escapes me. It’s strange, having a convincing knowingness wash over me as effortlessly as I relay my intimate experience back a practical stranger. No tangible or rational proof that what I’m seeing and feeling is connected to reality, but somehow conscious that it is. Or was. 

This is a past life, after all. Sort of. 

My hypnotherapy session with Lorraine ran over time by almost half an hour.  Neither of us wanted to cut the moment short when we were getting so close to the answer I’ve been looking for. Since I was her last client of the day, so I offered to pay for the extra time. My money was declined but Lorraine happily agreed to the time. I think she was just as invested as me by that point. Now she’s the only one who knows my secret. How will I ever be able to tell this to anyone else? At least my life makes an iota of sense now. 

“Hey Sloane-y, aren’t you supposed to be teaching a class right now?” Josh, my husband, broke my cavernous thoughts with his unexpected entry into the kitchen. “Is everything alright?” he asks as he rubs my tense shoulders, a concerned look on his face. Dirty blonde hair, bright green eyes, six foot three with a sleeve blanketing his left arm, Josh is undeniably attractive- successful architect, adventure lover, should have an award for being an utterly perfect husband. Too bad I’d rather have a wife.  

Josh’s affection for me is so strong and sweet, it makes me sad now. Sad for him, knowing that I’m not the person he fell in love with. If that person were here, she would most definitely love Josh the way he deserves. “Claire is teaching my afternoon class. We swapped for tomorrow morning so she can go to karaoke with Dylan tonight.” My explanation held some truth; we did swap and Claire is going to karaoke tonight. Though technically that date was supposed to happen tomorrow, she’d moved it up to accommodate my session with Lorraine. 

“Well, that’s perfect because my partner’s dinner was rescheduled.” He’s stopped massaging me, but his hands are still resting on my shoulders. I want to shake them off but resist the urge. Oblivious to my discomfort, he continues “Let’s have a date night instead.” Genuine excitement vibrated from Josh’s words. How did such a perfect man get struck with such imperfect luck? 

“What about a date night in?” My offer is innocent but as soon as the words have left my mouth, it feels like I’ve punched my own husband in the gut. Husband. Even after three months, it still feels so surreal. 

“We haven’t been out together in a long time.” Josh persists. “You know I like to show off my beautiful wife.” He winks at me with his unnaturally green eyes, and I start to melt. Once the wink morphed into puppy dog daggers, I know this is a fight I won’t be winning. 

“Fine.” I smile. “I’ll get ready, you call Palermo’s.” We both deserve a good night, why not get dressed up and forget about this day with a fat steak and a bottle of Cabernet? It’s not just my life that’s been turned upside down, it’s Josh’s too. Whether he knows it or not.

The haze of red wine and the comfortable flow of Josh’s trained salsa dancing had done its part in helping me forget my problems last night. I may lack a sexual attraction to him, but the man sure knows how to show a woman a good time. Now, as reality continues to set further and further in, that comfort has long passed. I feel disturbingly akin to an old Rubix cube. A once skillfully solved puzzle carelessly handed off to an unruly toddler to be twisted and turned without regard. Robbed of direction. Robbed of purpose. 

“Good morning, girlfriend.” Claire’s vibrant voice broke through the studio just as I finished pricing our new merch. “I bro-“

“Is that coffee I smell?” My face lights up to match Claire’s voice as she hands me a tall, steaming americano from the client’s side of the front desk. 

“How was my class this morning?” Claire asks, knowing how much I hate mornings. I guess the old Sloane and I have that in common. 

“Aside from that gassy guy in the back, it was great. What are we going to do about him by the way? Surely it bothers other…” I trail off at the realization of my own lack of sensitivity. “Anyway, thank you for switching with me. And for convincing me to go to Lorraine.” Claire was the mastermind behind operation past life regression hypnotherapy. Apparently, her and I are no strangers to the topic but neither of us have taken the plunge until now. 

“Of course. How was that by the way?” She poses the question softly, not wanting to pry I presume. I haven’t told her much about how I’ve been feeling the past few months, mostly because I didn’t know, but I have confided in Claire more than anyone since the accident.

“Well, uh, I’m not sure-” I should have been prepared for the inquisition but somehow, I’m not at all. “-I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it yet.” I can’t bring myself to make eye contact while blatantly severing Claire from my sacred moment. I’ve learned that the old Sloane would most definitely have spared no detail when it comes to her best friend. 

Does that mean I should be doing the same?

            That’s it, I’ve lost it. I silently cried over a mac and cheese today because it was cold and “not cheesy enough”. If I didn’t know better, I’d be running to pick up a pregnancy test. Everyone around me probably thinks I’m pregnant, I’ve been like this for two weeks now. Distracted in my yoga classes, hardly eating due to an abundance of nausea and my emotions are completely out of whack. 

The idea of confessing what I uncovered with Lorraine to Claire has crossed my mind and I have almost caved in a few sporadic moments of weakness. When it comes down to it, though, I can’t find the right words. Will she believe me? Will she hate me for stealing her best friend’s life? Will we still be best friends? Would she tell Josh? I have to be strong and keep this one to myself until I’ve decided what to do with this fresh start. 

Lorraine had been just as shocked as I was during my hypnotherapy session. Apparently, my circumstance is extenuating. Witnessing my (our) accident: two souls rising above their lifeless bodies in the middle of an otherwise silent crosswalk (the reckless driver who’d run the red light long gone). Like a waking dream, I observed as the pair folded together in a momentary dance, as if to acknowledge one another as comrades in this tragic moment. Then it happened. 

I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen and felt the moment so clearly. One soul continued its journey above, building distance between its body and the life it knew, while the other soul precipitously returned to the scene below and re-entered a body. The wrong body. “This feels planned, like we’ve accomplished a mission together.” I remember saying this to Lorraine in the moment. It feels clear to me now that I can’t waste this opportunity living someone else’s desires. 

Let go of Sloane’s life and start living the life of purpose Nicole always dreamed of; I can honour us both only if I honour myself.