Operation Soulmate (20 page)

     Her mind flashed back to her harrowing relationship with Andrew and the way he had taken out his latent aggression on her until she had finally come to her senses. The times she’d gotten dressed up to go out, and he’d found some small thing to criticise. “Black and purple together! Aren’t they funeral colours?" or... "I'm not so sure about wearing a flower...it's a bit 'out there' isn't it? I'm just saying?" or.. "Why are you getting upset?!! All I said was that I don't think that kind of skirt looks good on women with your body shape...” Or the times he would wax lyrical about the seemingly endless talents of some singer, or the youthfulness and creativity of some woman he'd met on the music scene. But of course, when she began to feel insure, he was always "Only telling the truth!!!!" And, after all, what did she
want
him to do... lie!?! No, she didn't, she would argue, she just wanted him to stop volunteering the information so freely every time it had looked as if she was beginning to like herself again! Or, maybe she just wanted him to occasionally say something nice about her as well... the woman he was supposedly in love with. Then of course, he'd usually fly into one of his rages about it, and yet another evening would be completely ruined.

      Then there was the time she’d accidentally spilled some detergent on the kitchen counter and Andrew had flown into a rage and complained about all the dreadful chemicals in everything, and how it all had to be cleaned up immediately in case any of it crept into his food while she was chopping vegetables. Andrew was always flying into a rage about things, usually completely unexpectedly. They would simply flare up out of nothing! And it was the unpredictability and unreasonableness of his rages that made them so unsettling, and that made him so difficult, and sometimes even frightening to be with. Then there were the times she'd had to cancel shifts at work, because Andrew had flown into several rages, and an entire evening of arguing over absolutely nothing, had left her feeling anxious, drained and battered. There were a lot of shift cancellations around that time. So many, in fact, that it wasn't long before her income was reduced to a third of what it was when she'd first started living with him, and then, of course, the more dependent on him she became, the more cruel and unjust his outbursts seemed to be. There were even times when the apology for one violent rage had barely left his lips before he was flying into yet another one. Then there was the time she'd been instructed by her doctor to wear a heart monitor for a day because of the erratic beating, clenching and thumping in her heart.

       Oh, he never hit her, of course. He didn't need to. She was already more battered and broken inside than any good person had the right to be. No one knew how awful her life was, or why she could barely hold down a job and had become a virtual recluse. She spent half her time trying to convince them that everything was great, and the other half trying to make things better for everyone else. And all the while she was slowly dying inside and wishing he would just kill her and end the misery. Too ashamed to tell anyone, too hopeless to ask for help and too deeply, deeply concerned that she might one day reach out for help and be refused it, proving, once and for all, that there was absolutely no goodness in the world, whatsoever.

       Who would have believed her anyway? Andrew could be such a charming man among his circle of friends and acquaintances. But they didn't live with him; they didn't see the Andrew she saw. They weren't there when she’d shared her first article with him and he’d laughed at the ridiculous premise upon which it was based. She could still remember how hollow and burnt-out she’d felt as she’d deleted the document and closed her lap top, carefully putting it away in a drawer. Two years later, she’d seen an almost identical feature in a copy of an international glossy magazine. And when she’d shown it to Andrew, he’d said, “Wow, you were ahead of your time, babe.”

       Then there were the times he'd criticised her hair, her nails, her grammar, the way she sat, the way she stood, her taste in music, her friends. The very same friends who soon stopped calling, and who, when she’d finally plucked up the courage to ask them why, had told her, “We just thought you seemed really busy.. with Andrew,” as if looking after Andrew was a rather demanding full-time job. Then there were the times he simply withdrew all affection. No touching, holding, stroking, nothing. It was as if she didn't exist, even though she sat right next to him, reaching out through the emptiness, trying to make sense of it all.

       Thankfully, Andrew didn’t believe in marriage, but she’d still waited five years for him to change his mind, or to get that big break touring with some big-name band or show, or to get a couple of songs published. The kind of break that might make him a bit happier and more fulfilled, more satisfied with himself and less angry. She tried hard to convince herself that when something good finally happened for him, he might actually become a happier, more settled person, the kind of person who was a little more willing to make some sort of commitment. But the years had come and gone, taking most of her youth and self-esteem with them. Looking back, she was often filled with a rare combination of relief and loathing. Relief that she had never had the misfortune to marry him, and loathing for both of them: him for what he had done, and herself for what her weakness had allowed him to do to her.

        Eventually, she’d woken up early, one Saturday morning, when the birds were singing and spring was springing, and without warning or ceremony, had moved in with her mum for a month, to get things straight in her head. In that first month, she had somehow managed to achieve more career wise than she had done in the previous year, and, in time, the month became two month and then three, and by the time she was ready to stand on her own two feet again eight months later, her life had changed dramatically, and she was working full time on a well known women's glossy magazine. After that, her life had taken on a life of its own, and her career and destiny had taken off in leaps and bounds, as if making up for lost time. Her troubles with Andrew were a dim and distant memory, and she had somehow bounced back, once again..

      She couldn't even bear to imagine where she might be now if she hadn’t moved out when she did, but some inner impulse had risen up inside her and propelled her to make a move that day, and that same incisive impulse had never failed her since.

      Her mum had never asked what had happened. Maybe she just couldn't bear to hear it. She’d just seemed happy to hear that her baby was finally ready to move on with her life.

As soon as she sat down on the comfortable, leather chair, Geraldine felt happier. She was, finally, doing something different. Different behaviours, different results, she mentally parroted from Ben’s pattern-interrupt sheet. She smiled as she imagine how pleased he'd be that she'd actually taken the time to read and absorb it. But it wasn't always easy to work through these things alone, and she'd already taken up enough of Ben's time. She also knew with every inch of her being that the last thing she wanted was for Ben to become her therapist.    

     The therapist she had eventually chosen, Cassia, was a kind-looking woman who walked, gracefully and purposefully, over to her desk, sporting a bohemian reconstruction of the twinset and pearls school of dress. Geraldine could see that she made a habit of trying to look professional without completely betraying her obvious hippy sensibilities. So instead of pearls, she wore a selection of amulets and African-inspired, chunky pieces. And instead of court-shoes, she wore black flip-flops with a slight heel, a gold ankle-chain and selection of toe-rings. But she
did
wear a pink, cashmere cardigan over a pink, cashmere sweater and that was still, by anybody’s standards...a twinset.

     Cassia oozed gentleness and compassion, and listened carefully while making seemingly endless notes, as Geraldine gave her a complete breakdown of her entire relationship history. Eventually, she stopped writing, and Geraldine sat reeling as she suddenly realised that actually, she’d been through a lot of crap! For a while, she simply let her mind wonder as she tried to digest some of it. So much for all this legendary over-sensitivity of hers...she was one tough cookie! She shook herself to attention when she realised that Cassia’s lips were moving but her ears didn’t seem to be taking in any new information.

     “So, okay, Geraldine,” she was saying, “Before we start, I’d like to just clarify a few points about hypnosis and to completely reassure you, regarding any concerns you might have about the process. Geraldine listened politely as Cassia went through a list of salient points, and was a bit disappointed to hear that, throughout the process, she’d remain aware of everything that went on in the room. She already knew what a mildly altered state felt like, having practiced meditation for several years. She wanted this experience to be more than that. She wanted to be out cold and completely transported to another world, another time and place, one she could believe in, one that would effortlessly reveal all the answers to her current dilemmas and struggles, without any tiresome, left-brain interference.

     By the time Cassia completed the excessively detailed and tortuous explanation of hypnosis, Geraldine felt as if she was already slipping into a trance. In fact, if there was much more of
that
coming, total unconsciousness was going to be a breeze. Just when she had almost given up hope of ever leaving the room in that lifetime, Cassia seemed to change gear slightly. Something was about to start happening. Good.

     “So just sit back and close your eyes and notice how your body’s feeling” Geraldine could feel herself melting into the couch with sheer
relief,
as the induction, finally, began in earnest. She had no idea how long she’d been lying there, but after a while, she almost laughed out loud when she suddenly became aware that she was a little boy, with curly, blond hair, sitting in the middle of a clearing, somewhere that appeared to be the vast plains of the “Wild West”. She giggled, nervously.

       Cassia’s voice drifted through the mists of time to join her in that new reality. “What’s your name?” She said. Geraldine struggled with the space between the two worlds, for just a second, before a feeling of certainty dawned upon her and she heard a strange little voice using her own lips to say, “Patrick.”

     “And how old are you, Patrick,” said Cassia, skilfully reinforcing the new reality.

    “Eleven,”

    “And, do you know where you are, Patrick? What country you’re in...?” Patrick sighed.

     North America.”

    “Oh... I see, and how old are you Patrick?”

    “I’m twelve years and seven months old...”

    “That's nice Patrick. Thanks you. And what are you doing, right now?” 

    “I’m rubbing down some wood for my Pa. We have to make a new rifle to go and shoot them there pesky Injuns.”

    “Gosh,” Said Cassia, “that sounds like a big job for a little boy.”

     “I ain’t a little boy!! Pa, says any boy who can hold a rifle ain’t a boy no more.”

     “Is that so? And does
Pa
say you have to shoot Injuns too, Patrick?”

     “Yep! Gotta keep ‘em off our land, don’t we? Orse they come and steal it!”

     “Okay, Patrick, I want you to move ahead in this life now, to a time when you experience something which is important to Geraldine in
her
life.” Geraldine felt the ground shaking beneath her as she, somehow, quickly came to terms with the fact that she was on a battle-field.

     “What’s happening?” said Cassia, remaining calm and reassuring. “Tell me what you see Patrick.”

     Geraldine struggled in the consciousness of Patrick, to make sense of the depth of feeling and the turmoil that seemed to be happening all around him. “It’s horrible,” she said, shaking violently. “I don’t want to kill nobody. My Pa makes me kill 'em Injuns, and I don’t wanna kill ‘em. They ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Pa says they’re the enemy, but I don’t believe ‘im.” Patrick began sobbing softly.

    “Patrick... Did you used to believe him, Patrick?”

    “Sure I did... When I was jus a l’il kid an’ din, know no better!! But I ain’t a kid  more, am I?”

     Cassia’s instincts picked up on a softening in Patrick's voice, and sensed another story beneath Patrick’s latter-day epiphany.

     “Patrick, do you know any of these people, the ones you’re being told to kill?”

     Geraldine, as Patrick, felt herself going hot, and she knew that he was blushing, deeply.     

     “Yeah,” he said, “But I ain’t supposed to tell nobody. I can’t... just my best friend, Josh. Pa says white folks and Injuns don’t mix. It’s wrong. The Bible says so.

     “I see... That’s very sad, Patrick.”

Patrick smiled, sadly. It felt nice, being understood.

      “Okay, Patrick, I want you to go ahead in this lifetime, to a much happier time. Where are you now?”

      “Over at Josh’s house. We’re makin’ up a plan to go and get Jaybird Song and run away with her. We’re gonna elope at sunrise...”

     “Is that the woman you’re in love with, the one who makes you want to protect the Indians?”

    Patrick smiled, “Yeah,” he said, shyly, “She’s beautiful. She understands me better than anyone in the whole world... ‘cept Josh. We’re gonna run away, somewhere far away from here, and I’m gonna make her my wife.”

     “That sounds lovely, Patrick. Patrick... can you see
Josh
now?”

     “Yeah, I can see Josh." Patrick said, blushing ferociously now. "Oh Jiminy! I love Josh so much. I wish it could be just me and Josh... all the time, but Pa says that ain’t right, neither; It ain’t natural. Pa says it's in the Bible too.”

      “I see... That’s very sad, as well, Patrick." Patrick shrugged and looked very sad. "Oh Patrick, I want you to take a really good look at Josh now. Look deep into his eyes and tell me if he looks like anyone Geraldine would know in this life-time. Geraldine felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she suddenly looked closely at Cowboy Josh, and saw the deeply compassionate, twinkly eyes of Ben shining back at her. She let the tears fall copiously as Cassia gently soothed her back into the Great Plains.

   “Okay, Patrick, that’s really beautiful? Thank you so much for sharing that with me. Patrick, can you move ahead in time now and see what happens ... when you go to collect Jaybird Song?”

    “Geraldine’s breathing began to quicken, as she sat shaking, gasping and sobbing loudly. “It’s horrible.” She said, “It’s so, so...
awful.
” The last word sent a chill through Cassia, as she sat there listening, poised between various dimensions of human suffering and sorrow.

    “Tell me what’s happening,” she said, as Geraldine/Patrick sobbed almost uncontrollably.     

    “I’ve gone to Jaybird’s village and... it’s been massacred. All that’s left standin’ is a single tepee. Oh, God, It’s so...merciless!! Dyin’ children and people cryin’ all over ‘em....and the blood; the endless, endless blood. I can see Jaybird, cryin’ over her baby brother. We were gonna take him with us but he’s dead now.” Geraldine shuddered as Patrick took in the full scale of what had happened. “Oh, God....” Geraldine, suddenly, froze, as if she’d seen something terrifying and painfully sad. She struggled to contain her feelings and to allow Patrick to get the words out. Cassia leaned forward in her chair. She could feel that something monumentally important was taking place...

      “Can you tell me what you just saw, Patrick?” Geraldine shuddered again.

      “I...It’s Jaybird...her eyes, they’re so....
cold.
They remind me of something but I’m not sure....” Patrick seemed to stop himself from speaking as if some new horror he was witnessing was just too dire to give a name and a voice to. “Oh, God....She’s lookin’ at me with such ....
hatred.
It’s all too much to bear. I can’t bear it. She blames me for it. She’s says she can never forgive me. I’ve dishonoured her as a woman and destroyed her people. She dun’t know I ain’t had nothin’ to do with it. She won’t listen to me. She won’t listen...Oh God, Oh God... I tried to stop ‘em...Oh God, she’s bleeding!! Oh, no! She’s been shot. Oh no, oh no, Jaybird. ...She needs help but she won’t let me help 'er. She’s saying she can never,
ever
forgive me for what I’ve done... Oh God!” Geraldine was in agony on all levels of her being as she lay there, clutching her stomach and weeping helplessly.

      “Okay,” said Cassia, “I know his is really hard for you, Patrick, but, this seems
really
powerful.... You said that there was something familiar about Jaybird’s eyes and the way she was looking at you. Do you think you can look into those eyes? It might help Geraldine...”

      Patrick nodded and Geraldine inhaled deeply, the breath shuddering through her like an unfamiliar presence suddenly finding itself introduced to her slightly unwelcoming body. She tried to steady herself, as Patrick looked deep into the eyes of the woman he loved and who now so deeply reviled him. “Oh my God,” she said, flooded with new remorse and sudden realisation, of the sad truth and, perhaps, the very crux of the entire experience. 

       “It’s Andrew...”

      “Ah...” said Cassia. “Thank you, Patrick. Thank you. Okay... Patrick, I want you to just go forward to the
end
of that life now and tell me
how
it concludes.”

       Geraldine felt herself growing cold, as Patrick, carefully placed the thick rope around a high branch of a tall oak tree, standing on a stool he had carefully crafted himself. She described the scene to Cassia.

      “Tell me what you’re thinking now, Patrick”

      “I deserve to die. I don’t deserve to be loved by anybody. I can’t love anybody ‘cause all the love inside me, died that day. I’m just a hollow shell. I can never make Jaybird understand, unless I suffer now...to prove my love....A life for a life...”

     Cassia sighed, deeply. In all her years as a past-life therapist, she had never ceased to be amazed at the scale of a human being’s capacity for love...and for self-punishment.

     Geraldine was blissfully spared from the final moments of death, as Cassia’s voice skilfully redirected her out of the body. But she was soon aware of Patrick’s soul wandering around the site of what had previously been Jaybird’s village.

     “Can you see Patrick, any way that Geraldine might be letting these old,
old
feelings of guilt and remorse affect her ability to be happy in her present, new life?” Patrick nodded, solemnly.

      “And can you see how none of this was
really
your fault...or hers? Can you understand how this was all just a very, very unfortunate and cruel set of circumstances?”

    Patrick nodded again and Geraldine’s lips twitched slightly. “But I didn’t do nothin’ to stop it...I should have stopped it. I shouldn’t have killed all them people... I was young...I just didn’t know...”

     “That’s right Patrick, you
didn’t
know. You just did what Pa told you to do, didn’t you?” Geraldine nodded, slowly. “Yes, that’s right Patrick. You did what you thought you were supposed to do. And I can tell that you are deeply,
deeply
sorry now, for
everything
bad that happened in that lifetime. Maybe.... Patrick...it’s time to stop punishing yourself now...You learned a lot in that life didn’t you, Patrick?”

     Geraldine nodded, again and sighed. “And now Geraldine is a beautiful person, because of what you learned...about how to
respect
life and treat
all
people fairly and without judgement. Do you think you can forgive yourself now, and allow Geraldine to let go of this guilt and this pain you’re feeling? Take your time to think about it. Make your peace with that lifetime....and just let me know when you feel ready to let go of this pain...Perhaps, you could just nod...”