The Beautiful Stranger

The Beautiful Stranger

It was a violent attack, one minute I was fine, the next my breath was gone. I thought it was a bad cold, nothing I needed to take seriously. My entire life I was one of those guys who was full of energy, never missed a day of work. Out of nowhere I started coughing, then I couldn’t catch my breath, gasping for air I suddenly realized I needed help. I was at my office at the time it happened, I called 911 but I could not remember my work address, even if I could have I wasn’t able to speak to the operator in between the gagging and choking. It felt like I was drowning, panic started to set in, the veins in my eyes were ready to burst. I couldn’t hold out much longer. I don’t remember the medics arriving but thank God they did.

Many weeks later I went to church for the first time in nearly twenty years. Nothing like a brush with death at the age of forty-nine to scare the shit out of you.  I was never one to run to the doctor for every little thing. That was going to change too.

A month and a half on partial bed rest and I was fully recuperated, up to this point I felt like I had just stepped out into the street and got hit by a truck. My body was depleted of energy. After some practice and a lot of rest, I could finally walk up a staircase without feeling winded. I had my strength back-at least enough of it to get off my ass, go see some friends, and get some fresh air. I thought it was a good idea to hit up a popular local joint. So, one fine Thursday afternoon that just happened to be October 31^st I headed on foot towards The Candlestick.

Coffee shops are on every street corner in Seattle, even in the suburbs where I lived. They popped up all over the place in the ‘90’s like lightening bugs on a summer night. Warm and comforting, the aroma inside a coffee shop reminded me of my childhood. My parents would wake at 6:00 a.m. mom cooking something sweet on the griddle, dad brewing coffee and reading the paper.

The Candlestick was a coffee shop where I hung out frequently, I knew all the regulars there. It was my favorite spot, in addition to the soothing memories it conjured up, it also served beer and wine on the menu. I wasn’t going to give up everything fun after my near-death experience.

Little did I know it was on this evening sitting in this shop nursing a glass of house red, my life would change dramatically. The shop was full of shadows, lit with orange Halloween lights hanging around the windows showcasing the dark night sky. Ghostly white faces on haunted paintings hung on the walls in between thick strands of cotton spider web. It was charming in a spooky kind of way.

As I sipped from the wine glass and started feeling the relaxation setting in, I heard a loud BANG! ‘Shit!’ I jumped in my seat not knowing if I just swore using my ‘inside voice’ or not. There was the whistle of a gust of wind and a punch of static electricity in the air like when you were a kid and would rub your feet on the carpet and then touch your brother hoping to give him a little shock. The front door to the coffee shop opened forcefully with a burst of fresh air and dead leaves blowing inside. That’s when I saw her, that’s the moment when the universe started to unravel around me.

Against the backdrop of the moonlit sky the figure of a woman stood in the doorway.  Immediately I was struck by the sight of her, I could not take my eyes away it was as though a spotlight rested on her in the dimly lit room. Dark red hair, blue eyes, delicate skin, she wore black yoga pants covered by knee high leather boots and a baggy gray knit sweater. It was an understated outfit that looked expensive, and she wore it well. Shutting the door with some strength against the wind she walked through the shop casually as though she’d been here a thousand times, but I had never seen her.

She was nearing her fiftieth birthday in November, I thought, but she looked younger, like life had treated her well. It was inexplicable how I would know her age, in fact I couldn’t know it, that wasn’t possible. Yet I felt certain I was right about this. Just like I was positive that she smelled of sandalwood, almond and vanilla. I could hear her voice as she gave the barista her order, it was a voice I could swear I’d heard a thousand times, but we had never uttered a word to each other. There existed an overwhelming familiarity and an empty space where a complete stranger lived simultaneously. It was like I could ‘feel’ a memory of her, but the actual cognitive function of remembering wasn’t working.

I saw her pay for a house red wine, she meandered to a seat on the opposite side of the small room, no more than ten feet from me. I tried to focus on my drink and the magazine I had found on the table where I sat. Furiously, I averted my eyes from staring at her. I wanted to talk to her, but I had no clue what I would say. I mean ‘Hey have we met before?’ seemed like something some creep hitting on a hot chick would do. Honestly, I did find her attractive and interesting, but I wasn’t going to play the part of the desperate town idiot.

Eventually after many moments of my inner turmoil eating away at my insides, the woman got up and walked towards the door leaving her empty wine glass behind. A flash of anxiety passed through me. Dammit. If she walked out that door I might never see her again.  Compelled to follow after her, I left my seat, it was physically difficult not to.  

The woman stepped out into the night air, lit up by the moon, stars and a few streetlights and businesses closed for the day decorated in orange and purple lights. Halloween was all over the small suburb decorating every shop and doorstep within sight. The air smelled fresh like the river that ran parallel to the street we were on. The woman walked ahead of me by twenty paces, followed the crosswalk and headed down a side street that occupied some of the nicer homes in the community. It was also the same street where the cemetery was located. A somber thought on an evening like this.

She passed many well-manicured lawns. I kept a distance behind her to remain unnoticed. I felt like a stalker following her through the dark streets. I knew it was strange, messed up even, I just needed a little more time to decide what to do next.

After a ten minute stroll from the coffee shop I started to feel uneasy. I saw gravestones off in the distance, illuminated by the moonlight sitting next to a small gothic looking church. Where was she going? Just when I thought things were getting interesting in a strange and unwelcome way, she turned to the right down a brick paver path towards a white house with a picket fence. The front yard was filled with red maples glowing in the orange hue of outdoor Halloween lights.

Now I had no choice, I either tried to approach her or abandon this adventure altogether, and I couldn’t do that. I didn’t know why I only knew I couldn’t leave. The woman walked up a set of wooden steps to a wrap-around porch and turned a key with a click unlocking the front door.

“Excuse me,” I said with all my courage, standing at the entrance to her yard on the brick paver path. ”I’m so sorry, I don’t want to disturb you, and I really hope you don’t think I’m some weirdo…”

Dammit. ‘Smooth move Ex-Lax’, I thought. My first and so far, only words to her came out completely awkward. I never knew what to say. The woman turned around and looked at me for several seconds. I worked up my nerve for one more try.

“I wondered if you had a couple minutes to talk?” I asked, “I understand if this seems strange, and I’m really so sorry. I just have this unrelenting feeling like I’ve met you before. Déjà vu, I think it’s called…”  

To hell with it, I knew I was standing there in the dark outside her house like a complete maniac. It was a small town; I risked becoming known as ‘that guy’, but it seemed worth it. The woman turned back to the door, and without a word opened it, then facing me again, looked straight at me and walked inside leaving the door open behind her.

I walked down the path hastily and entered her home. It smelled of sandalwood, almond and vanilla. The home was filled with holiday decorations. This woman loved Halloween. There were skeletons in every corner. Witches hanging from the shafts of the ceilings, orange glowing lights casting an eerie glow. I shut the front door behind me. With her back to me, she flipped on a light in the hallway illuminating the scene where we both stood and turned around looking at me once more.

“John, is that you?” She asked as though she had just recognized me in the newly lit hallway.

I didn’t know what to say. My name is John, I just didn’t have a clue how she knew it. It was a common name, maybe I looked like someone she knew. Maybe she looked like someone I knew. Maybe it was all just a big coincidence. We stood in awkward silence for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s me, John. The thing is, I feel sure that we know each other but I can’t seem to recall where we met. It’s totally haunting me. No pun intended with all the…Halloween…stuff.” I said grasping for words to avoid offense and hoping I didn’t sound like a moron.

She turned silently and walked further inside the house illuminating the next room which appeared to be the kitchen. Great. I messed it up. I must know her, and I just hurt her feelings. What in the hell was wrong with me? I walked down the hall towards the kitchen where she had just disappeared around the corner. I was starting to feel uncomfortable, like something was not right about this situation. It had not occurred to me to feel fear until now. I was a man; I was bigger than her, my six feet to her five foot two inches. Why did I feel so creeped out?

As I passed through the hallway I observed photos on the wall. All neatly laid out in matching black frames with white matte. There was one of the red haired woman with an older lady, her mother or aunt perhaps. There was one of a group of people, extended family photo I guessed. Then in in the middle of the large, neatly hung collection of photos there was a picture that stopped me in my tracks. As my eyes rested on it my brain stuttered.  Like an old-fashioned flash camera, I think my brain actually blinked.

There on the wall was a framed photo of me. I was with the red haired lady, our arms around each other, both of us smiling. This did not make any sense; it couldn’t be me. But it sure as hell looked like me.

“John?” The woman asked from the next room, her voice soft like a kitten purring.

I walked around the corner to the kitchen to see her standing at a white marble topped island. Two glasses of red wine poured. She stood quietly.

“I wrote this to you. I wish you’d read it.” She set a piece of paper with my name on it down next to one of the glasses of wine and then turned and walked away through a dark open arched doorway.

I walked into the kitchen feeling the hair on my neck rise. I would read the letter, but I was starting to feel like I should not turn my back in any direction where there was an entrance or egress behind me. It felt strange, ominous, I didn’t know if she was a serial-killer or a Goddamn angel. I felt incredibly drawn to her even though she acted bizarrely. Now I was standing in her kitchen with no idea who she was, why she had a picture of me, or why she even let me inside her home. Most women would not leave the door open to a perfect stranger, who they then recognize after they allow in. I braced myself for any surprise, expecting her to jump out of the closet with a hatchet in her hand. It was Halloween after all, she was more likely my worst nightmare than my perfect dream woman.

I picked up the paper refraining from the wine, I needed to keep my wits about me. The letter inside was handwritten in black ink:

Dear John,

I’m sorry for that day when I left the restaurant upset about all the hours you’d been working. I should have been more understanding. I should have left you with a kiss, I will forever regret that. As I write this the tears are flowing down my cheeks, and my heart is breaking all over again.

You see that day; I didn’t realize how sick you were. When the police showed up knocking on the door at 2 a.m. I was in shock, John. I thought you were still at work, another late night at the office. The police told me you tried to call 911 but you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t speak, the paramedics didn’t know where you were, they didn’t get to you in time.

I was… I am devastated. You were my rock, my love, my sweet husband, and now you’re gone. I have missed you every single minute since you left me. I will never recover, my love, know that I loved you more than life itself, and I cannot bear each day without you. I will always love you.

Gillian

I set the paper down. And then I remembered.

I felt a jolt in my stomach like I was falling from a rooftop. All at once, I remembered our wedding day, I remembered when we bought this house, the memories came flooding back…she was my last thought as my head hit the desk that day in the office, my body convulsing, eyes bloodshot, mouth gaping wide open. I went limp, and then my breath was completely gone. The last thought in my mind on the day I died was of this beautiful woman I had shared 29 years with.  

All the emotions, all the pain of that event was somehow erased, until that second when I laid eyes on her in the coffee shop. In that moment I didn’t know who she was, but I felt an unquenchable need to be with her. She was the only soul who could lead me to my most important truth: I was dead. Now I knew why I could not stay away from this beautiful stranger.

I walked through the dark arched doorway she had passed through moments before. She was sitting in a plush white chair in the living room next to the fireplace with candles lit, holding her glass of wine. When I was living we had a ritual of a kiss on the lips every night before bed. I approached her, bending down I laid my lips firmly against hers, she stayed very still, staring straight ahead, frozen. Tears started to run from her eyes flowing like tiny rivers down her perfect pink cheeks.

“John.” She said quietly. She could feel my energy next to her.

“My Gillian, I will always love you too.” I whispered.

THE END