Through Time and Space

The air is crisp on this October evening. A slight fog lingers. My face tingles from the coolness. I look out over the water. The river still, on this starlit night. The scent of cherry blossoms caress my senses. A scented memory. Jackson’s fingers gently stroke my hand. I feel his warmth. His cropped beard grazes my cheek as he plants a tender kiss onto my forehead, whispers I love you. Happiness is this moment. We sit like this on the wooden park bench, warm in each other’s arms, making plans for our future. We stay there until the cold from the bench seeps into our thin layers. Jackson helps me off the bench and we walk along the moonlit path, through rows of cherry blossoms, oblivious to the people running and strolling about. We are lost in this moment. This moment that is impossibly ours; two people about to embark on a life-changing journey.

Back at the house, I pass Alyssa in the hallway as I make my way to the bathroom. I smile when I see her. A fleeting moment of surprise catches me off guard, then passes. Her elation at running into me also disorients me a bit but I rationalize that Jackson’s sister has an infectious spirit and a genuine love for people. She pulls me into a hug and takes a step back to look at me. I arch my eyebrows, “What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she beams. “You just look like you’re glowing.”

“I’m glowing?” I chuckle, eyebrow raised.

“Yes, you’re glowing. You’re beautiful!” she says as she turns and skips back to her room. 

I stare at my face in the mirror for a few minutes after she leaves. I think to myself, I am beautiful. It’s something I have been noticing of late. It’s not that I am not usually beautiful but lately when I’ve looked at my reflection, a subtle, quiet beauty seems to stare back at me. My features are exactly the same; the same dark brown eyes, full lips and dark, curly hair, but there seems to be a light emanating from under my skin, enhancing them. My efforts at a skincare routine are finally paying off, I think. Black don’t crack as they say, we age like fine wine. I wash my face and make my way back to the bedroom. In the doorway, I stop. Something feels wrong. I look around the room. Everything is in its rightful place. The bunk bed against the wall…bunk bed?, the closet in the corner. Jackson, lying across the bed with his head at its feet. Pure contentment on his face. 

“Guess what Alyssa just said to me?” I say as I walk towards Jackson. My brain registers that the walls in this room are blue. The color feels wrong but I know this room. The walls of this room are blue. I know this.

“What did she say?”

“She said I’m glowing.”

“She’s right, you know. You are,” replies a soft feminine voice.

I look up searching for its source. I know that voice. 

“Claire! What are you doing here?” She’s lying on her side, on the top bunk. I didn’t notice her before. Dark curls framing her face, looking down at me, that familiar twinkle in her eyes.

“What? ____ Alyssa’s right though. I dreamt of this moment ten years ago and it’s finally here. You are glowing my friend.”

I notice her deflection and I know what she’s implying but I haven’t told anyone yet. No one knows except Jackson. Not even Claire, who has been my best friend, an extension of myself really, since I was eight years old. She’s been there through every big and small moment. Always offering advice when I needed it, direction, or just listening. The fact that she’s here now should come as no surprise, but I feel something I can’t describe. There’s a distant current of unease rippling through me. Claire doesn’t know, she can’t know. I haven’t told her yet and what did she say about ten years? 

Jackson reaches for me and pulls me to him. I’m startled by the feel of his hand. It’s rougher than I remember and bigger. I look down at his hands. I know these hands. I let him pull me towards him, bringing me to sit on his lap. I wrap my arms across his shoulder. He immediately shifts his position and flings me across his body to the other side of the bed. We burst into laughter. Jackson’s usual hoarse laughter replaced by a deep baritone coming out in shorts bursts. Strange. I flip my body over to face him. I touch his face. His beard, a subtle shadow, its prickly hairs striking my fingertips. His features transform into a wide smile, fuller lips than I remember. “You are glowing My Love. Beautiful,” he says. I stare deeply into the brown eyes of the man in front of me. A man I know and built a life with. A thought jumps out at me, Weren’t his eyes hazel? We draw closer to each other, a warm tangle of limbs. This doesn’t quite feel right like it did on the park bench earlier. My brain says I’m where I belong but I don’t feel it.

I lay there staring at his face, a face that looks so familiar but there is a strangeness to it. The face doesn’t match the right feeling. Something inside me comes rushing to the surface. It’s not love. It’s fear. Fear is the feeling that matches this face. My breath catches in my lungs. My brain recognizes Jackson but every other part of me is in disagreement. Why do I feel like this? There is a tenderness I feel towards him, mixed with the fear. A tenderness linked to a memory. Alyssa’s face pops into my mind. Jackson doesn’t have a sister. This person is not Jackson. But he is familiar. This Jackson has a sister and I know that, I know her. Alyssa, my friend, a little sister to me. This Jackson lovingly strokes my cheek, my face reaching into his touch, propelled by the impulse of my love for Jackson. I feel that love now. It’s part of me. This Jackson reaches down and rests his hand on my flat stomach, his thumb moving in gentle strokes. I feel the joy and love emanating from him. He knows, I think. But how can he know? My brain doesn’t respond with the same urgency that’s coursing through my body. I feel like I’m suffocating. The window. I spot the window just above my feet, at the other end of the lower bunk. I move towards it, crawling to stop my head from hitting the underside of the top bunk. The brightness of a full moon pushes through the window. It’s almost as bright as day except the light is silvery-white. This Jackson comes up from behind me, gently placing his hand in the small of my back. “Are you okay my love?”

“I’m fine. I just need some air,” I hear myself reply.

“It is such a perfect night, isn’t it?” His voice low. He’s now staring out the window too.

“It is,” I say, absently. I feel my brain working on something but it’s being kept from me. Can that happen? Can your brain work without you knowing what’s going on? I continue staring as if someone has frozen my live feed. The guavas in the tree outside the window glisten, temptingly. I push myself onto my knees trying to get a better view of the nightscape. I’m almost content in this moment. I’m thrusting my head out the window trying to get a better view, further and further out, my knees lifting off the bed. In an instant, I feel myself lurch forward. I’m tumbling headfirst towards the guava tree. I’m not panicking. I should be panicking. I’m falling. I somehow angle my body upwards and see Jackson’s face frozen, helpless, hands reaching to me from the window. I will hit the ground soon. My last thought, “I’m glowing.” Then darkness. 

***

When consciousness finds me again, I see blinding light but my eyes are closed, I know this. My body feels heavy. The heaviness of presence. Slowly, I let my eyelids flutter open, my mind devoid of thought. The light softens and washes over the room. The walls are a dark seafoam green, not blue. Something is draped across my stomach. I reach up to touch it. An arm; hairy, muscular, soft. I turn to my right, he’s here! My heartbeat drums through my ears, my breath comes in rapid intervals. I reach my hand to touch his soft cropped beard, his face. My Jackson is here! He’s lying on the pillow next to me. His breath comes in and out slowly. I let out the breath I’ve been holding. Jackson stirs and pulls me towards him. I allow myself to get swept up in him, nuzzling against his neck, taking in his scent, the way his body feels against mine.

Hazel eyes open and focus on my face. His thin lips form into a smile, “Good morning beautiful.”

“Good morning Bub,” my voice, a soft murmur against his skin. These are the features I know.

“Hmmm….how are my girls doing?” His hand tracing the familiar path down my body to my lower abdomen, resting quietly against its bulge. I rest my hand on his. A perfect moment. An alarm startles us both. I reach over to the nightstand for my phone, turning off the alarm. Another notification pings. I look at the screen and groan as I move to get off the bed. Jackson tries to keep me pinned.

“You’ll make us late,” I say, planting a kiss on lips.

“We won’t be late,” he counters, planting kisses all over my face, “Yet.” He has that look in his eyes. I gently touch his face. 

“Yes, we will be. The OB’s office is more than an hour away and we have to stop by your parents on the way. Your mom is not known for her brevity, remember…. Oh and I had the craziest dream. David was in it. I’ll tell you about it on the drive.” Logic says I must have been dreaming.

“David? As in your ex?”

I laugh. “Yes. I’ll tell you about it on our drive. Now up Mister!” I push against him.

He groans and reluctantly loosens his grip, freeing me, but eyeing me with curiosity. I briefly wonder whether I should tell him that Claire was in my dream again. I’ve mentioned her only a handful of times to him. Though, I’ve kept her to myself more than a handful of times. I don’t think many people will understand that someone can have a dream friend. Claire Herald only exists in my dreams. We’ve lived our lives together from eight years old to now, but only in my dreams. There is no Claire in my waking world. I shake my head and push these thoughts aside for now.

The morning goes by in a blur. It was a bit tricky getting away from his mom, we had to promise to have dinner with them later this week. On the drive to Dr Mira’s office, I recounted the dream to him, all of it, including Claire. He found the dream oddly weird, especially since David died a few years ago, but he was a good sport about Claire. He’d asked how “Good Ole Claire,” was doing. We rationalized that the dream was one of those vivid dreams experienced by pregnant women. I am five months pregnant after all. I pretended to go along with that theory but kept to myself that this one felt a bit more intense, more real somehow. There was something else about this experience that wasn’t quite settled. I just can’t identify that is.

We get to Dr Mira’s office a few minutes early. Immediately, I notice they’ve done some office renovations. The chairs in the waiting room are arranged differently with two rows of chairs back-to-back in the center of the room and another set along the side wall. There’s a new beverage station with water, teas, coffee, and the front desk area has been redone. A few patients are already there. A couple sit upfront facing the front desk, their back to us and another very pregnant woman and a man I assume to be her husband are seated on the chairs along the wall. Next to them, two chairs down, sits a teenage girl, buried in a book. We walk up to the front desk. Macie looks up at us from behind the counter, her usual larger-than-life smile spread across her face.

“Good morning Mr and Mrs Thomas. How are we today?”

“Hey Macie. Good morning_.” 

An assistant walks in from one of the side doors and calls out a name, “Claire Herald. Claire Herald.”

Jackson and I both look at each other and turn on the spot. We see the couple seating behind us get up. My eyes lock on to the woman’s. She freezes, looks at me. My heart stops. My brain is screaming. It’s her! Plain as day, right here in front of me. This strange woman, It’s Claire! She’s Claire! My Claire, from my dreams. The same dark, curly hair just like mine and her beautiful dark skin. Both of us seem frozen in place. I continue staring as she slowly, cautiously approaches me. Why is she walking up to me? Does she know me? How is this possible?

She is slightly taller in person than in my dreams, but there is no mistaking those twinkling dark eyes. Eyes I’ve come to know like my own over the years. She’s standing directly in front of me now. My hands are shaking, my body feels weak. Jackson places his hand around my waist holding me up. 

Claire’s face reveals her thoughts. She recognizes me. But how?

“Jenna?” Her voice comes out shaky but I hear it as if it was spoken inside my brain.

“Cl…Claire?” I whisper.

We both nod slowly in response.

“How?...what?...You’re real?” We both say together. Her partner looks on, a bit confused by the scene before him. I realize from his expression that he’s never heard of me. She reaches for my hand as if to confirm I am real. I feel the softness of her fingers as her hands touch mine. We squeeze each other’s hands, tears running down our cheeks. She reaches for my face now and I for hers. We mirror each other’s movements. Something borne from both curiosity and years of knowing each other.

“Claire, honey what’s going on?” the man standing next to her asks. His face hardened with a weary expression. She looks at him then looks back at me, then at Jackson. She gives my hand a tight squeeze. I want to hug her, this stranger. I want to hug her and never let her go. She’s not a stranger, I’ve known her most of my life. She turns to her partner now and tells him she’ll explain everything in a bit. The doctor’s assistant calls her name again. In that moment, I look down and notice her very evident baby bump. As if reading my mind, she looks down too and notices my very evident baby bump. We grab each other in a fierce hug, both of us laughing through tears. She releases me first.

“Don’t leave Jenna. Promise me you won’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere Claire. I’ll be right here. I promise”

She leaves me standing there, holding on to Jackson as she follows the assistant. Just before she disappears through the door, she turns back, “I don’t know what’s happening but we have so much to talk about. I am so happy to finally meet you, Jenna!”

I smile at her and chuckle, “Me too! Yes we do!”

The remainder of the morning is spent catching up or rather confirming what we know about each other. Each detail, every memory, true. Our husbands are as surprised by the events as we are. I can’t believe that I walked into a doctor’s office, met a complete stranger who turned out to be someone I’ve had a connection to all my life. I just didn’t know she was real until now.