A Short Story : You Again

You Again

By: Lindsay Golden Johnson

 

I remember our first lifetime together. I was the wife and he was the husband, although we never actually married we knew that we were married at heart. It was a lovely life, quite different from the life we are living together now and quite different from any that we have lived together since. Now I’m his daughter and HE is a SHE. Sometimes I look at her and wonder if she remembers too. The long nights we spent in each other’s arms. The life so very different from the roles we play today. Sometimes when she fusses at me about school or a chore that I neglected to finish to her liking, my mind darts back to how calm and collected he had always been. Sometimes when she’s in a good mood and wants to hear about my day, I remember our long moonlit walks and our conversations about life in general. We used to love to philosophize and ponder most anything except for our reality.

I don’t know why I remember when other people don’t.  I don’t know why I’ve always known, but I do know that I am happy to know. It gives me hope for the future me—it reminds me that this will be over soon too. I almost feel sorry for the people who were born with full amnesia. I feel sorry for people who say "YOLO," or who are terrified to die because they can't remember the hundreds of times that they've made the transition before. Life without amnesia about where I've been gives me a whole different perspective and idea about life than most other people have.



When I was three years old I hugged my mother and told her that I remembered when she was my husband. Her eyes grew wide, she pulled away from my embrace, and I realized at that moment that I should never speak of it again. Even at such a young age I knew enough to put that topic to rest forever. There have been other times in my life that I’ve recognized people, and even though they look different, are different genders or races from before, there is just something about them that I recognize and am familiar with. Most importantly I’ve noticed that the people in my life don’t remember like me, even though I do get the feeling that my father in this lifetime believed me. Of course the one person who was like me didn’t last long, my father died when I was six and a half. It feels like I’m destined to be alone and different. I feel like I will always pine for something that can never be mine, whether it is love or whether it is simply feeling content in the "now."
“Ana! Change the cat litter!” Mama screamed across the house. It was a large house, and she did a lot of screaming. The windows seemed to rattle any time she barked an order at me, but I was seventeen and used to it already. I had spent my entire childhood and teen years jumping when she said jump. So of course I jumped up from the watercolor I was working on and hurried down the hall toward the odor of a long neglected litter box. Poor whiskers! He would never want to come back as a pet of mine again. “How many times do I have to tell you the same things? Over and over again, always the same things! I’m tired of repeating everything.” I could hear the stress in her voice and felt that this was about more than the litter box. It almost always was about more than whatever she happened to be fussing about or crying about at the moment.

I glanced in her direction as I passed the kitchen and her face was hardened and sad. It is strange because sadness is a soft emotion, but enough of it can harden anyone. I thought of our life together as a couple, two lifetimes ago, and my heart softened a little. Maybe this lifetime was payback for the things I had done to HIM then. Maybe I caused some of the sadness, that led to the hardness, that led to the pain that I felt almost daily under her scrutiny. Maybe the reason that I couldn’t muster up any amount of hate toward her was because I had loved him so much.

 

 

“Florence,” he whispered, his deep voice tickling my ear and sending chills down my body. “Marry me, Florence.”

I leaned into him and smiled a little. Even though we knew that we could never get married, we always imagined what it would be like in a different world. “Someday I will, Sam.” I believed what I said. Someday maybe the world would be different and kinder.        

It was the surge of excitement that came from the fear of being found out that I sought at first. It was the feeling of doing something secret and forbidden, but after awhile it was him. It was his big brown eyes, it was the intensity in his kiss, it was the amazing ideas that came from such a misunderstood man.

Now I was engaged to someone else. John David Hamilton, III was a rich plantation owner who had had his eye on me from the time I was a little girl. He had recently asked for my hand in marriage and my father had obliged eagerly on my behalf before I even had time to consider the thought of it all. I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t blurt out the fact that I was in love with a burly black skinned man who called my father “Master.” I couldn’t speak my truth and so I simply thanked him for the proposal and agreed to be his wife in the spring. He wanted it sooner, but I knew I could hold him off awhile longer. I gushed about how beautiful a wedding would be with the dogwoods blooming and the butterflies fluttering about. I asked permission to order cloth for my custom gown from Paris, and that alone would buy me a good bit of time. I knew that someday I would be in his arms and in his bed and would be Mrs. John David Hamilton, III, but until then I would spend my nights with my love, Sam.

“I heard Mr. Hamilton will be here tomorrow. He’s staying for a week.” Sam told me as I pulled on my dress and straightened my hair. “We better keep away until he’s gone.”

“I don’t think I can keep away.” I sat on his knee and he wrapped his arms around me. He had strong, big, and safe arms. I had known Sam in this way for quite awhile. “We’ve been together since I was fourteen you know. How old were you then?  I don’t remember.” Sam was smart and educated. I guess he had my Daddy to thank for that.

“Eighteen,” he said, probably thinking back to our first time together like I was. We had gone three years without being caught or even suspected. Everyone loved and trusted Sam. Sam had been born here and had always been respectful and kind and hard-working. Of course he had, he was more civilized and caring than any white man I’d ever known.

“I love you, Sam.” I really did.

“I love you, Florence.” He gave me a little squeeze and shooed me off of his lap. I needed to head back to the house, with John Hamilton coming soon it was no time to get careless. “Don’t take any risks to see me in the next few days. You promise me that.”

“I promise.” I kissed him and vowed to remember the feel of it when John tried to peck away at me with his tiny slivers of lips. I breathed in my Sam and thanked God for the chance to be with him, even if it was in sin. I had a hard time believing that true love could ever be sinful or wrong, regardless of the skin color or lack of betrothal. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Sam whispered with gentle nod and slight smile. I’ll never forget that smile, no matter how many lives I live.

 

 

Mama had been dating again. She signed up for a dating website for widows and had already been on three dates with prospective men. I listened as she hummed and got dressed. Her alto voice was soothing and warm, it was one of her more endearing qualities.  I couldn’t help but hope that she would fall in love with someone. She deserved it. She had been through a lot in the love department. Not long after my Daddy died, Mama “fell in love” with the pastor of our church, but he was married and that of course didn’t end well. I don’t know a lot about the situation still, but I do remember the whispers and stares. I remember asking why we were Presbyterians now, and knowing that it was the wrong thing to ask, but that is about as much as I knew at the time.

Not long after we changed churches, Mama joined a bowling league and seemed to develop a huge crush on the team captain. It turns out that he was gay. I think she swore off of love after that! This was the first time in several years, nearly a decade actually, that she has even considered dating and had started fixing up and wearing makeup again. Maybe online dating would be the key to her happiness. I really hoped so.

I whistled as she came out of her bedroom and she rolled her eyes.  I told her to have a good time and not to stay out too late, all of the things that I knew would either piss her off or make her laugh, and lucky for me she laughed a little and headed out into the warm summer air. I stood on the porch and watched the trail of dust in the driveway settle and sound of her car engine get further in the distance. Mama was tall and slim, her brown bob haircut framed her face and her eyes had a depth to them that couldn’t be acquired in just one lifetime. She was so different from Sam, but somehow she was the same. Something about her energy was like Sam’s. Sometimes when I’d feel her walk into the room I’d think it was him and that I was Florence again. It is strange, and to people who don't remember like I do, it probably sounds incestuous and strange, but we've all traded roles with our soul mates many times. Even you! Lives like Sam and Florence's have a tendency to follow you and remind you every once and awhile of the mistakes you made, and of the people you hurt along the way. Lives like those make you want to do it right this time. My life with Sam makes me want to be nice and patient with Mama. I know the deeper side to her and I know of the kindness and selflessness that her soul is capable of. I know the real Mama, and for that reason alone I could never be a normal teenager. I would never stay out too late or smoke in the bathroom at school. I didn’t want to risk hurting her again. I didn’t want to deepen the pain that life in general is to someone who has lived and died like Sam did. I wanted to protect her, to protect him, and to someday live again in harmony with my soul mate who doesn’t even know she has a soul.

It was nearly eleven when I saw the lights splash across my bedroom wall. I couldn’t wait to hear about her date and gush over the details. That’s always how I imaged our relationship as mother and daughter to be, but instead of coming in and telling me goodnight, I heard her heels click down the hall and her bedroom door slam shut. It must’ve been another fail. Maybe the next one would be the man of her dreams… I really hoped so.

The next few weeks were strained between us to say the least. Mama was depressed again and rarely left the house or her bedroom for that matter. Luckily between my Daddy dying and my grandparents leaving her everything they had, she hadn’t had to work ever. When Mama wasn’t depressed she would volunteer at the elementary school or the library, but times like these when she was depressed nobody ever saw her—not even me.

“Mama,” I tapped on her door with my knuckles. I was taking the car out and wanted to tell her bye.

“What?”

“I’m leaving, I won’t be late though.” I always made a point of getting home on time and doing my best to make her life easy.

“Where are you going?”

“To see a friend,” I said. I had been seeing a guy for awhile but I didn’t really want to tell her that, especially not with her feeling down about her love life.

“Alright, be careful.” She said, so quietly that I almost had to unscramble the words in my head.

“I will.” I was always careful. I drove the speed limit, ate right, made good grades, abstained from sex, wore safety goggles in science lab. I just didn't want to do anything that would add stress to Mama or put her at risk of being disappointed in me. I guess the funny thing about it was that she always seemed disappointed in me anyway.

I stepped out into the balmy July air and felt a little freer than usual. I shouldn’t sit at home painting just to “be there” for someone who didn’t even notice. I shouldn’t try so hard to make a naturally unhappy person happy. Nothing I did worked anyway.

 

 

“Would you do me the honor of taking a walk after supper?” John asked, setting his fork down and dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. I watched his perfect manners and wondered if he had ever worked a day in his life. His body was slender, but it was obvious that he had never spent a moment plowing the dirt or harvesting the fields of his family's plantation. He was nothing like Sam.

“Of course, I’d love to.” I lied with a forced smile. I just couldn’t imagine a life as his wife. I hoped that eventually I could come to terms with it, but so far I just couldn’t see it.

Mama and Daddy made small talk and I could see how proud they were that such a respectable man had asked for their only daughter’s hand. I didn’t want to disappoint them. Even if they were slave owners, they were good people. After all, they were only following the patterns set for them by society.

By the time John and I stepped onto the path toward the river, the sun was sinking fast. I linked my arm around his elbow and made sure to put on a pleasant face. The house was barely out of sight when he began to tell me how beautiful I was and how lucky he felt to call me his. I had to make an excuse about being chilly because when I thought of being "his," I cringed. John took this as an invitation to pull me closer, and I realized how hard pretending was going to be.

“The spring can’t get here soon enough!” John’s light brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and his sideburns stopped right above the deep dimples in his cheeks. His eyes were kind, and I supposed he was handsome, but I was in love with someone else and was immune to any charm that he possessed.

“Oh, I have so much to do before then. I can’t believe it is already September!” I wanted to change the subject. When we finally reached the water’s edge John asked if he could kiss me. I nodded slightly and prepared myself, trying not to cringe again. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, coming up for air after several minutes of short unfeeling kisses. “It seems like you’re worried about something tonight.”

I smiled and assured him that I was just tired. He took pity for me and suggested that we should head back inside, and I tried not to sound too excited when I accepted. “Maybe we can take another walk before you leave tomorrow.”

“Yes, maybe we will.” John wasn’t too pleased at the abrupt ending of our evening stroll, but I on the other hand was very pleased.

Not long after I headed upstairs for bed, I snuck down the back staircase and out to the tree where Sam and I often met. I didn't know if he would be there or not, because I wasn't supposed to sneak around with John visiting. It really was risky. Thankfully as I got closer, I saw his silhouette against the moonlit sky and felt my heart fill up again. “Sam!” I whispered as I approached.

“I told you not to come.”

“If you didn’t want me to come you wouldn’t have been here waiting!” I pointed out as I melted into his arms.

“I came to think," he lied.

“Let’s go, I don’t have much time.” I tugged at his arm and he followed me to our spot.

“I saw you kissing Mister John.”

“I’m sorry Sam. I don’t love him one bit, you know!” I hated the thought of him watching that.

“I know, Florence.” Sam brushed my hair back with both hands and began to kiss my neck. “I know,” he murmured into my skin. He pulled up my night dress and went to work. He always knew how to take all of my troubles away.

“I can’t do it, I can’t leave you tonight.” I whispered as he shook above me, catching his breath and wiping away sweat. “I don’t want to go.”

“Well you can’t stay.” He was always so realistic. I guess one of us had to be.

“Can we run away? Can’t we just go somewhere together and be happy?” I was young and naïve. There was nowhere that our relationship would be viewed as okay.

“We’re happy now. We have until April to make peace with it.” Sam looked so handsome and hearing him say that made me realize how close together April and September were. Every day that passed felt like a death march an inevitable doom. One day I wouldn't be his anymore. I would never be Sam's wife, and it hurt. “Every thing will be fine.”

I shook my head and blinked fast to get rid of the tears, but it didn’t work. Sam wiped away a tear and pulled me close again. It wasn’t long before I realized that he was crying too. Together we cried and cried. We were mourning the life we could never live together. We were mourning the children we would never have. We were mourning the death that spring would bring to our hearts. Even lying there crying felt alright, as long my body was entangled with his. His dark skin against my pale porcelain skin was a beautiful sight, the candlelight flickering around us made our still bodies look almost as if they were dancing. 

“I will never forget this. I will always love you.” I told him, meaning it. He didn’t say anything, but as he kissed me I knew that he felt the same.

 

 

Fall came sooner than I expected it. The world was coming to life with colors and I couldn’t wait to paint the red and orange fiery colors that surrounded me. My sun tanned skin was starting fade and I knew that change was in the air. I was a senior in high school now, and in less than a year I would be leaving for college. I had been spending a lot of time away from home lately, I guess I was giving Mama a taste of what life would be like once I was gone. She would have to find happiness somehow. Maybe once I was gone she would really start to live again. 

I decided to stay home and paint a fall scene and to eat with Mama instead of meeting my friend, I still called him my friend even though he was more like a steady boyfriend by now.  She didn’t feel like cooking so I heated up some Campbell’s soup and tried to make small talk as we slurped it up in front of the TV. “Have you gone on anymore dates lately?”
               
“Of course not.” She sighed. “I’m destined to be alone.”

“You aren’t.” I insisted, I knew she had many lives ahead of her and one of them was bound to be happy. “You’ll find someone someday.”

“Maybe so, but it doesn’t feel like it… The soup is good.” Her hair was pulled back in a little ponytail and I could see how smooth and young her face was. She looked very pretty with the blue glow of Jeopardy dancing across her face.

“I’ve been seeing someone. I’m not sure if I’ve told you that. Carey…” I didn’t look her way, but could feel her studying me.

“A he? Or a she?”

“A he.” I laughed. Wondering why she would think otherwise, had I ever done anything as scandalous as exploring my sexuality? “Carey, as in a guy named that.”

“Ah, like Carey Grant, sounds handsome already.” She teased.

“Yes he is handsome.” I confirmed. “And he’s really a great guy. He’s a junior at the University, and we’re getting kind of serious, I guess.”

“I’m happy for you, Ana.”

“Thanks.” I felt like she meant it and I really was glad to be spending time with her. “Love you, Ma.”

“I love you, too.” I faintly heard her say it and I believed it. She was a good mother despite her flaws and her depression. I understood her and saw through her anguish. No matter what life she was in, Mama would always be dear to me. I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d get it right in our next life together. I really hoped that we would. She interrupted my thoughts, “Your birthday is coming up, Saturday!”

I jumped a little and laughed. “It is! Two days away!”

“Eighteen. I can’t believe you’re almost an adult.” Mama shook her head and set her empty bowl on the coffee table.  “Maybe you can bring Carey by sometime.”

“Okay, I will.” I smiled, I couldn’t help but feel like her fog was lifting again. I was familiar by now with her cycles of depression. It definitely felt like brighter times were ahead.

I woke up on my eighteenth birthday to an empty house and a note that read: Ana, I’ll see you and Carey tonight for your birthday meatloaf. I have errands to run and a lunch date with a fellow from the website. XO, Mom

I smiled and tossed the note aside. No matter how depressed she happened to be on my birthday she always managed to make a meatloaf and cupcakes for me, and no matter how vegetarian I happened to be at the time, I made an exception for her meatloaf on my birthday.  I couldn’t help but hope that her lunch date went well, I knew how quickly a bad date could send her over the edge. I hated to see her happy streak end, especially on my birthday.

 

 

“Florence, John is here!” Mama called up the stairs. It was my eighteenth birthday and we were having a special dinner in my honor. Eunice, Sam’s mother, powdered my nose and hummed as she put the finishing touches on me. I watched her thoughtfully. She was a kind plump woman, she had dressed and bathed me since I was an infant, and sometimes I felt like she was more of a mother to me than my Mama was.

“Eunice, do you think I’m making a mistake?” I asked, almost surprised to hear my own voice.

“Yes ma’am.”

“You do? I shouldn’t marry John?” I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest.

“No ma’am. John is a good husband for you. I’m talking about my Sam.” I was shocked to hear her say it, I thought we had everybody fooled. My eyes grew wide and she looked in them squarely. “You two’s going to get somebody killed and it won’t be you.”

“Oh!” I felt like I was going to faint and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against the tall mahogany rail that reached up toward the ceiling. Eunice reached out and gently touched my hand. She wasn’t going to apologize for speaking her truth, but I could tell she hated to see me so upset.

“Listen,” she lowered her voice, stern but kind. “It needs to end ‘fore it’s too late. You know that well as me.”

“I do,” I said with a sudden realization that we couldn’t keep on sneaking away to be together. I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble or shame my father’s name. If Eunice knew, there was no telling who else knew. I couldn't keep pretending that we were in our own little world, because it was quite obvious that we were not. “I will take care of it.”

“Thank ya, Florence. I feel it is best.” Eunice straightened my dressing table and left the room without another word.

I looked at myself in the mirror and shuttered. I was going to have to tell Sam that it was over even if it broke his heart and even though it was breaking mine. I had to end it before it was too late. I gathered myself and headed downstairs to my future husband, John. He was in a jovial mood and I did my best to laugh along with him and enjoy the evening.  It was my birthday after all, sadness had no place at such a gathering. My mind kept wandering to Sam, but I reminded myself that John was my future and that I owed it to him to try and be a suitable fiancé. When it was time for him to leave for the evening I leaned in for a kiss willingly. I could get used to his slender lips I supposed. “Goodnight, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Goodnight, my dear and Happy Birthday again. I look forward to the next time our eyes meet.” John was a gentleman and I felt myself blush a little.

“As do I,” I gave his hand a little squeeze, thanked him for the lovely broach he had given me, and headed inside to escape the chilly fall air. Maybe I could make a life with him after all once I put my relationship with Sam to rest. Maybe the fact that I was still involved with Sam was what was holding me back from building a bond with John. I knew that I at least had to try and make things right.

Not long after I told my parents good night and went upstairs to bed, I headed down the back stairway and out to our tree. Sam was there of course, but instead of falling into his arms with passion like I usually would have, I walked up and leaned against the trunk beside him. “Beautiful Florence,” he said with a sigh, not noticing the nerves that his mother had stirred up in me. "I member when you were born. Every person, animal, and blade of grass celebrated. Eighteen years later you are mine, at least for a while longer."

“I had a talk with your Mama, Sam.” I blurted out, almost interrupting his lovely words. “She said we have to stop this. How does she know? Who else knows?”

“Oh she knows everything. If anybody else knew they wouldn’t keep silent, believe me.” His unwavering confidence immediately soothed my fear. I looked at him and almost laughed at how very different he was from the man I was going to marry. They were total opposites in every way. How could I even consider cutting my time with Sam short? I needed to soak in as much of this love as I could before it was gone.

It didn't take much to push my discussion with Eunice out of my mind completely. “Kiss me!” I demanded, realizing that it had been several days since we had seen each other. He did as he was told and suddenly the cool fall air didn’t feel so cool anymore. I was warm and at home in Sam’s arms. No matter what Eunice had to say about it, our moments together were worth the risk! “Take me right here, please.” I whispered. Knowing that it would be the best birthday gift yet.

Again, consumed with passion, he did as he was told. It was the first time we had ever made love under the stars. Usually we headed down to our hideaway, an empty shed away from everything. We usually lit our candle and laid out our blankets, but tonight was somehow different. Tonight my body longed for him in a way that it never had before and I knew that I couldn’t let another second pass without feeling his strength above me. I wanted to be one with him again. Maybe it was because I had almost let him go. Maybe it was because I had almost let my heart soften towards John. No matter what it was, the mingling of our bodies washed away any fear or doubt that had ever worried me.

It was beautiful, simply beautiful. I loved him so wholly and ached for him to release within me. It was as if he read my mind and he let out a primal sound and threw his head back in delight. It was a moment of both beauty and imminent tragedy.

“Florence!” I heard my father’s voice just as my eyes met Sam’s.

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered, his voice shaking and his eyes wild. “I love you my Florence.  I always will, I always will.”

I didn’t understand the weight what was about to happen. Everything would be okay, I would just explain it. We would make them understand “Sam,” I pulled my night robe around me as I stood up. I loved him and I would just have to admit to it and face the shame. "Daddy!"

I could see the moon on my father’s gun. I could see the pain in Sam’s eyes. I suddenly realized what would happen and couldn't breathe. “I’m sorry, sir.” Sam held his hands in the air after pulling his pants up and stepping away from me.

“No,” I whispered. “No, Sam.” I wanted him to run!

“You were having your way with her?” My father demanded, the hatred and anger in his face made him nearly unrecognizable.

“I was.” Sam nodded. What was he doing? He should tell Daddy how in love we were! He shouldn't apologize for anything we had done. It was honest and loving! “I saw her out walking and couldn’t resist. I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“Sam!” I was shocked and speechless. What was he doing? What was he saying? "No, Sam, No!”

Daddy raised his gun and the sound is one that I will never forget. I let out a shriek as Sam fell to the ground in a pool of red hate.  I ran off into the woods as fast as I could get away from the terrible scene unfolding before me. I had killed him, it was my fault! My Sam! My love! Now my father thought he had raped me and his name would forever be smeared by a lie. My Sam! Limp and lifeless under our tree! Still warm from our love making, he was gone.

I collapsed onto the ground and felt my father’s arms scoop me up, his warm gun pressing hard into my leg. I was numb and heartbroken. My Sam. My poor Sam. No words can express the pain and sadness and anguish that ripped through my body. I gathered my words and asked my father to hide it all, to pretend it never happened. He said that he would. He didn’t want anyone knowing what that man had done to his little girl. Part of me wanted to defend Sam, but I knew that I couldn’t. Sam had set this in motion by the things he had said. He was protecting me with his dying breath. I gathered my strength and headed upstairs to bed. Numb and alone.

 I ached for Sam for months and months, but eventually spring came and it was time to become Mrs. John David Hamilton, III. Eunice helped me get dressed in my fancy Parisian gown, and I couldn’t even look her in the eyes. I would never forget my Sam, her Sam, but I couldn’t change the reality of what had passed. “Ya look pretty.” Eunice whispered with tears in her eyes.

I nodded and fought back my own tears. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was. I wanted to fall into her arms and tell her that I too had been counting the days and breaths I had taken without Sam in my life. I wanted to explain what had happened and tell her she had been right and that I should have listened. I wanted to wail and mourn some more, but instead I muttered a polite “Thank you,” and headed out into the spring air to become a wife to a man who’s arms and lips and heart could never compare to Sam’s. My Sam.

   

 

When Carey and I pulled into the driveway the house was dark and I could feel my stomach knotting up. We headed inside to a house that suddenly didn’t feel like home anymore. The air was absent of the smells I expected-- no birthday meatloaf or fresh baked cupcakes. I knew that something was wrong and I squeezed Carey’s hand. “Mama?” I called out.

I could see the worry in Carey’s eyes and I shrugged my shoulders, trying to disguise some of the pain that I already felt. I tapped on the bathroom door and could hear the faucet dripping into a full tub. Maybe she fell asleep in the tub, I told myself. “Mama?” I said desperately as I turned the knob.

You probably know the rest. Mama was reclined in bath, water up to her chin, an empty pill bottle bobbing at the top of the water lazily. The bubbles were still gathered in clusters around her knees and breasts. Her empty wine glass was shattered on the tile floor. She looked peaceful and almost happy. I told Carey to call for a coroner and heard him shuffle down the hall hastily. Some first meeting this was for them. Some eighteenth birthday this was for me. “Oh Mama,” I whispered as I leaned my forehead against her lifeless arm. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you.”

I thought back to her life as Sam and the fact that I had failed him. I thought back to the months I spent in her womb and knew that she had done her best to overcome the pain. I wished that I could’ve loved her enough in this lifetime to take away her depression and sadness. I wished I could have made her want to live, but sometimes life just hurts too much. I felt a warmth around me and knew that she was there consoling me. I felt her, I felt them, and I couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes remembering feels like a burden, but at that moment remembering was the only piece of reality that was worth clinging to.

I studied her lifeless face. She looked peaceful and like a huge weight had been lifted from her. I noticed a scar on her ribs that I had never seen before. It was right where Sam had been wounded on my eighteenth birthday as Florence. Maybe things had come full circle after all. Twice now I had had eighteen years with them. Twice now I was spending my eighteenth birthday under a cloud of death and loss. "I love you," I whispered, I heard sirens in the distance and headed out into the hall to Carey's waiting arms.

As the ambulance pulled out of the driveway I leaned against Carey, who had really handled the situation with dignity so far. He wrapped his arms around me and we both cried. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered into my hair. For the first time I recognized his energy, I wondered why I didn't notice it before. I had once called him Daddy and he had called me Florence. Maybe he did understand my pain after all, this time he could help me through my loss instead of pretending it hadn't happened at all.

The funny thing about remembering is that you can’t blame anyone for pain that they caused or for the way they were. You wouldn’t dare blame someone for something they had done because there is plenty of pain and hate that could also be blamed on you. I knew that even though Mama was gone that I was going to be okay. Finally she wasn’t hurting anymore and maybe just maybe we would have a chance to try it again. I owed it to Mama and to Sam to be as happy as I could be. I would give my life as Ana all that I could give, and I couldn’t help but hope that it would be enough.

 

FOUR YEARS LATER

Carey and I became man and wife when I was twenty and found out a month before our first anniversary that I was pregnant with our first child, a baby boy due a week before my twenty-second birthday. We were very happy together and made a lovely home in the house that I grew up in. I was painting a lot and selling the paintings at a price that I almost felt guilty about. After all I didn’t need the money—Mama had left us a fortune and Carey had a good job.  I often felt the presence of Mama and knew that she was around me still. With time I worried less about who I had been and focused more on who I was going to be. Life was really beautiful.

Carey’s strong arms supported me as I gave birth to our son. Through tears I watched him cut the umbilical cord and puff up with pride. He was beaming!  He didn’t remember like me, and I was glad he didn’t. It would hurt too much for him to remember some of the roles we had played together. Not everyone was strong enough for those kinds of memories. The doctor wrapped up the pinkish screaming baby that had spent the last nine months growing inside of me and placed him on my chest. I looked over at Carey and smiled. We were parents! I loved him so much and was proud of what we had accomplished together. I looked down at our son and realized that HE was HER. Mama’s kind eyes were gazing up at me, not crying anymore, just taking in the face that she/he had missed for so long. “Oh it’s you again…” I whispered, feeling gratitude and joy mingling together with the new yet familiar feeling of motherhood.

Carey leaned over and kissed my forehead and asked what we should name him.

“Sam,” I said as tears rolled down my face. It was my chance to love them again and to soothe away any pain that was leftover from before. I knew that everything was going to be okay and that we were going to live a long and happy life together this time, “My Sam.”

“Our Sam,” Carey corrected, and I couldn’t help but smile. Our little Sam. Happy Birthday to us.