Soul Mates Through Time

Soul Mates Through Time

Germany, 1940

“You were all I ever wanted,” he spoke, his lips so close to hers he felt them quiver.

“You know I’ve felt the same, from the moment I saw you,” she replied, her breath unsteady, her heart pounding.

Tamara studied the stiff, new uniform he wore. Why all the sudden excitement about joining the Reich’s army? Now they were risking their lives meeting, even in secrecy behind the park, since Berlin’s nightly curfew had gone into effect.

“But… but it is getting too dangerous to meet, Tamara.”

She peered up at him, studying the paleness of his cheeks and the eyelashes surrounding his soft, green eyes as they flitted away. Waiting, she tipped her head, her dark hair slipping off her shoulder.

“But…” she muttered, with inquiring eyes.

“I can’t see you anymore. It’s not right.”

Gulping a breath, Tamara quipped, “What?”

Through the war, Christopher had always reassured her that he would remain an ally. But now she wondered if his love for her had forced him to shove any prejudice aside. His love was true, yes, but as German sentiment toward Jews had grown more hostile, Chris couldn’t help but doubt his former premise that all citizens were equal.

“Look at all the research they’ve been doing. My mother says Arian Germans should not associate with Jews. And so does the new Hitler, the new leader of our country.”

Tamara was stunned by what she was hearing, and the coldness with which he spoke.

“I’m a loyal German just like you,” she blurted. “Your mother is wrong. It is all propaganda, created by a hateful dictator!”

“Shhhh!” Christopher annoyedly hushed her as he lowered his gaze and Tamara’s dark eyes teared.

“Please, we love each other! Isn’t that all that matters?” She pleaded, touching the side of his face as their eyes met.

“Not anymore,” he answered briskly, gripping her wrist. “My mother found your letters. She explained things. We can never be together. I’m sorry! You’ve been trying to sway me!”

Gasping, Tamara clutched his arm. “No!”

“Yes!” Christopher snapped, pulled his arm from her grip, and disappearing across the fog-covered lawn.

Stunned, she couldn’t move, the heart in her chest collapsing. Fighting against the paralysis that had instantly overcame her, she ran for cover beneath the trees until she tucked herself amidst several buildings to get home, her shoes clapping the slippery cobble stone as the fog thickened.

Christopher joined Hitler’s army. Tamara’s father was removed from their home a year later by the Gestapo. In 1942, she and her mother were sent immediately to Auschwitz, where she was sterilized, told to climb into a trench, and shot.

United States 1978

Junior high school hadn’t boded well for Timothy from the beginning. He was small and slow to develop. He hadn’t a speck of hair on his face. Nor was he muscular or athletic. Even worse, all he knew how to do was draw and write. And it was just one more thing boys bullied him for.

During his eighth grade year his school moved him from the general level to college level. And here he sat, in a new science class with a whole new set of kids he didn’t know. All the years of teasing left him self-conscious, angry, and yet terrified to say a word to anyone, much less look them in the eye. But that’s exactly what Lindsay did.

It was accidental, really. She happened to glimpse him as she giggled with her friend, Susan. While their class waited for the teacher to walk in, Tim sat at the opposite end of their long table and she sat at its center. No one had claimed the space between them, so he had a clear view of their daily antics.

On one particular day in May, Lindsay and Susan were wrestling for a pencil, and Lindsay spun half-around and noticed him. She had a loud mouth and she didn’t hesitate to use it.

“Hey there!” She yelped, pronouncing no r’s whatsoever. Tim looked around as if someone were behind him.

“Me?” He muttered.

“Yeah, you! Who else would I be talking to?”

He felt himself shrink. ‘Yeah, dummy,’ he told himself, trying to laugh.

“You’re so quiet! Are you shy?” She continued, giggling with a sympathetic smile.

‘Oh, dear God’, Tim heard his own words echo in his head. ‘Please make her stop.’

“No,” he stammered, shaking his head so fast he got dizzy.

“You know, you have a beautiful smile?” She asked so that everyone could hear her.

“Thanks,” he managed to squeak, unaware of ever having smiled.

Then Lindsay turned fully toward him until he glimpsed a full view of her face. Unlike other girls, her hair was cropped shorter, a light, bronze color with a wave to it. She was long-limbed and thin, with wider hips, her skin much lighter than his. But it was her face he noticed first. Rounded and wide, with fine, gently-curving brows and a small, but full mouth the color of deep-pink roses. When her face flushed, he watched the pink splotches travel down toward her throat. But what captivated him most were those eyes - luminous, wide, and a silvery-green, with flowing lashes tipped with mascara.

Tim’s heart beat hard against his chest, and in that instant, their eyes locked. It struck him then that there was something familiar about her. Had he met her before? Mesmerized by her gaze, by something he couldn’t pinpoint, he knew they had met somewhere, but he couldn’t place it.

That fall, Timothy was delighted to spot Lindsay in the gym at the new high-school. He remained quiet, and she remained loud. In the halls, she bellowed silly greetings as she walked past with her friends. At football games he looked for her as she came through the entrance of the stadium. When their eyes met, her face lit up. When she began working at the small ice cream the following summer, he dragged his younger brothers along and chatted with her. As the year passed, he tried to remember where he’d seen her before, but he still couldn’t place where.

In the fall, Tim got a job working a few nights a week at the near-by grocery store, he was able to get a license and buy a used car. He finally found the confidence to ask her to a matinee. Afterward, he took them to McDonald’s. She joked, and as he laughed, they gazed into one another’s eyes over her fish filet sandwich and his Big Mac. Oh, how he ached to kiss that tender mouth! But when and how would he know the right moment?

That spring, Lindsay told him that she was a born-again Christian. An alarm went off inside his head, but he ignored it. On a particularly rainy evening, Timothy picked her up from school to bring her home. When they turned to each other to say goodbye, the sexual tension between them was too tangible to ignore. The rain banged against the windshield, but her large eyes glowed and her chest turned rosy. It was as if there were a magnet between them, and they both leaned in toward one another until he scooped her mouth up with his. They lingered, and her mouth opened.

A clamor in the house startled them, and Lindsay pulled back.

“I have to go in!” She yelped, her green eyes staring and mesmerized as she opened the car door and slipped away.

Before starting the car, Tim pondered, staring into the night. He had been keeping a secret. He had been carrying a secret for as long as he’d known her, because he had been waiting. He had been waiting for her to fall so deeply in-love with him that his secret wouldn’t matter. He believed it was finally time to tell her.

“C’mon, Tim, you can tell me anything,” Lindsay pleaded, as they slid into their usual booth at McDonald’s. “I think you could murder someone and I would still love you.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.” He reassured her.

“What is it then?”

“It’s about my mother.”

“What about her?” Lindsay inquired. “I love your Mum.”

Tim watched her stuff a french fry in her mouth.

So, here goes…

“My mother is gay.”

Lindsay swallowed and stared. Time stood still. Her pause felt endless, but her eyes revealed no emotion. It was as if she had just switched off, her gaze distant. Then, she giggled and cocked her head.

“That’s it?” She asked.

Tim nearly collapsed with relief. “Well, with you being born-again, I didn’t know what you’d think.”

She smiled and nodded. “It’s okay. We don’t judge. Only God does that. I love you anyway.”

Their visit ended like any other visit, and he drove home as if a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders.

The crocuses in Tim’s mother’s gardens gave way to tulips and daffodils, then irises. Summer was fast approaching. During each visit since his confession, he watched her, ever anticipating a even a slight change in her demeanor. How happy he was to see none.

On a late July evening after returning from Lindsay’s, Tim walked into his house.

“Hey Tim? How was Lindsay?” His mother asked, finishing some dishes in the sink.

“Good!”

“You got a letter.” She said, as she tossed her head in the direction of the kitchen table, where an envelope sat beside a bowl of steaming ramen noodles.

“Hmph,” he grunted. For a moment he hesitated and felt his mother’s eyes on him.

“Everything okay with you two?” She inquired.

“I hope so,” he muttered, as he unfolded the letter and headed for the stairs to his room.

Every word was an assault. Every sentence felt like a blow to his gut, a swipe to his face, a punch in his head.

‘To Tim,

I love you so much. I wanted to marry you. I wanted to have your babies. But I can not be a part of your family, knowing your mother is gay. I tried to accept it, but gay people are sick devils in disguise. I wish you had never told me. How could you expect me to want to raise my children with a gay grandmother! I would be exposing them to sin! I wanted to spend my life with you, but you ruined it. You have broken my heart!

Do not come to my house or my job. My mother knows and she does not want you anywhere near me, so stay away.

Lindsay’

“Tim!” His mother yelled from the bottom of the stairs. “Are you going to eat?”

With all his willpower, Tim yelled back, “Sorry, I ate already!”

As his stomach knotted with hunger, he crumpled into a pile on his bed. The glow of the sunset tinted his walls with a gentle yellow. But if there was any comfort from it, the image of Lindsay’s beautiful face broke it, just like his heart was breaking - into a million tiny shards of glass.

She was all he ever wanted.

Fall, 2013

Having been newly single for about three months, Tim spent much time on social media, looking up old friends. Then he remembered Lindsay. He typed her name into the FaceBook search bar and pressed Return. Immediately, he recognized her profile picture, and stared. It had been more than forty years and she was still so beautiful.

‘Do I or don’t I?’ He thought. He shrugged and tapped Add Friend.

Two days later, Tim was shocked to find that Lindsay had accepted his friend request. Slowly, he perused her page. He wondered if she had adhered to the born-again Christian beliefs, but none of her posts were particularly religious. And evidently, she was divorced with two teenage daughters.

When they became more friendly, he began to wonder if she had forgotten what happened. That was when Tim decided to launch the question to her on Messenger:

‘Do you remember what happened between us?’

‘I don’t know what you mean. All I remember is that you disappeared.’

He hesitated. Had she blocked everything out?

‘If something happened I want to know what it was.’

At her insistence, he told her the story.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she wrote.

She had remembered their kisses, their love, but she didn’t remember her letter. Only days later, she wrote:

‘I never stopped loving you. Please see me.’

‘But your mother…’

‘My mother is not my babysitter.’

The next weekend, they met at Tim’s place. She walked in the door and gazed at him, unmoving, her eyes glassy, her cheeks reddening. Suddenly time slowed to a halt, and his heart thumped in his chest.

“I don’t know if it’s just an old infatuation or if what I’m feeling is new,” Lindsay told him, tears running down her face. “I’ve been crying all week, missing you. I don’t know what to do.”

Tim stood motionless, unsure of what to say. He didn’t want to push.

“Come sit,” he told her, guiding her to the couch. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“No, thank you,” she sputtered, sitting down as she pat her eyes with a tissue she’d fetched from her purse. Tim sat down at the other end of the couch, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Maybe I will understand better if you kiss me.”

It had been 45 years and here she sat, the sweetest love of his life. It all seemed surreal. He recalled the moments they’d said hello in passing through-out that time, how it seemed they’d been following one another through a lifetime, and how often he’d thought of her despite the women he’d loved since.

Standing up, he sat down next to her. Finally, he leaned toward her and kissed her mouth. Once their lips met, it appeared Lindsay had no more questions. She touched his face and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him without stopping. He became mesmerized, his body turning to putty as she stroked and undressed him. She climbed onto his lap, her eyes running into his as if she had taken a drug, and for the first time in their lives, they consummated their life-long love.

In the beginning, Lindsay insisted on waiting to tell her family. Meanwhile, their love grew deeper and more intense. Tim was in no rush. But Lindsay got tired of hiding, and finally told her mother about the reunion. Once again, her mother discouraged her. After 45 years, she renewed her hateful rhetoric about exposing her grandchildren to his mother’s “ways”. But this time, Lindsay stood up to her mother and continued to see him. During one visit, she cried in his arms, “All I ever wanted was you.”

Unbeknownst to Lindsay, her mother took her granddaughters out to dinner while Lindsay and Tim languished in his bed one evening. When she got home, her daughters had locked themselves in their rooms. Upon entering her living room, she spotted the Bible splayed on a side table, open to the Sodom and Gomorrah story. She knew then her mother had gotten to them. Despite her insistence they talk with her, they ignored her. Sad, she simply went to bed.

When Lindsay approached her mother about the episode, her mother ended the discussion, “Don’t you ever marry him or bring him to any of our family events.”

Lindsay continued to see Timothy, but the abuses at home continued. She riled against them, defied them, but as the months passed, she could not make it stop. Tim’s mother was overjoyed that Lindsay had come into Tim’s life, but he couldn’t bare to tell her what was going on.

A year later, after months of hiding their love from Lindsay’s family, Lindsay told him she needed to take some time away. Tim grew leery, but understood and agreed without argument. Finally, after two months, Tim received a text.

‘Can I come over this afternoon?’ She asked.

‘Of course,’ he replied.

When she arrived she sat down at the kitchen table. There was no kiss, and she placed a bag at her feet.

“I’m sorry, Tim. I have to end this. I have no more feelings for you.”

“What?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know you love me. You never stopped loving me.’

Lindsay shrugged.

“I’m going to go now.” She told him. Within seconds, she was gone. To say his heart broke is an understatement. Immobilized, he remained in his bed for days.

A week later something occurred to him. He pulled out his drawing pad and began to draw Lindsay’s face. But for some odd reason, he decided to shorten her hair and masculinize her face. He surely knew this person. That night, as he dozed off, completely exhausted, he saw her face. But it was not a woman’s face. It was a man’s, and that man stood over him. They stood under trees, lanterns on poles offering their soft light. He wore a brown uniform and seemed to be frustrated with him. Then he ran off. Tim woke up moaning Lindsay’s name. As it had the week before, his heart broke all over again.

Had Tim just experienced a past life? Had he just experienced a repeat of something they’d experienced decades earlier. He had always been fascinated by the Holocaust, but whenever he mentioned it to Lindsay, she refused to discuss it. Had she left him before, because he did not fit into the status quo?

All she had ever wanted was him. All he had ever wanted was her. But yet again, it couldn’t be? Why?