Moondance (41 page)

“Althea, how many times have you been betrayed in love?”

Althea was silent.

“What if I told you that your soul likely created the experience of betrayal for you, so that you’d more deeply connect with your emotions.” Althea’s mind was blank.

“I don’t know what I think about that.”

“I think that it’s true. I also think that your soul created these experiences so that you’d start asking bigger questions about life. Questions that have nothing to do with your senses, and have every
thing to do with what you believe and what you feel.”

“Scorpio again.”

“Right. Have you thought about what your soul contract was between you and Kevin? How you knew each other in a past life?” Althea’s fear spiked, the room quaked, and it was as if the floor opened, exposing a gaping maw that was hungry for her. She dug her nails into her palms, her fists locked on the arms of her chair.
She wasn’t ready. Albert was wrong. She wasn’t ready
.

His voice:
I’m here to help you remember.

A sheath of grey mist unraveled around her, and Ivana dissolved into a fugue. Her dancers stood at attention, their backs to the wall which breathed and glowed. Hidden behind the curtain of daylight, the moon whispered: show yourself.

His arms encircled her body, kissing her cheeks, her eyes, once again her protector, and Althea let go, allowing herself to descend further inside herself than she’d ever gone before, exploring the mirrors of her mind, the murky recesses of her soul, seeking memory buried but not forgotten, memory wanting to breathe. Guilt, shame, something else
.

“What did you do?” Ivana said, her disembodied voice echoing. For a flicker in time, Althea was sitting in Ivana’s chair again, absorbed within the belly of the house that had grinned at her.

“Don’t think about it. Trust your instincts,” Ivana said. “In a past life, what happened between you, Tori and Kevin. Your unconscious knows.”
Show me. Show yourself
. Althea’s eyes twitched, rolled up, and her jaw fell slack. With a moan, she lost her balance, falling on her side until she was

standing in a room with curved pearl walls, soft light and trickling water. He stood next to her, holding her hand, and they rotated counter-clockwise on a grand stage. A curtain of burgundy gauze opened slowly to reveal a pulsating screen, stretched and lucent like newborn skin.

Are you ready? Here, she knew.

Yes, Althea said. I’m ready.

chapter 68

The present

AT THE AIRPORT, CELIA emerged from behind the sliding glass doors. Her eyes widened as she saw Althea waiting for her. She let go of her bag and they hugged.

“Hey. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I have today off.” They walked toward the parking garage.

“How’s Sophie doing?”

“On morphine, it’s not good. I go to see her every day, but she doesn’t always know I’m there.”

“I’m so sorry, I know it’s tough.”

“Thanks. It’s hard, but it’s okay. When she got sick, we began talking on a different level, you know? She became more open, about herself, about her past. Since she’s been sick, she’s had to let others do things for her and let go of all that control she’s into. She struggled at first. I mean, she
really
struggled, so that was a lot harder for me.”
Why do you think you created a heavy-Scorpio mother, Michelle once asked her. Althea had replied: so that I could learn how not to do Scorpio?

They approached Althea’s car, a Volkswagen Golf, and loaded Celia’s
luggage. Althea’s heart pounded, she felt nervous, on pins and needles.
She was really going to do this
.

“Listen, I know you’re tired and jet-lagged, but I need to ask you something, and it’s okay if you can’t, but I didn’t want to ask on email.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, but it’s a biggy.” Althea exhaled, and handed Celia the newspaper clipping. Celia read it, and her head slumped.

“Oh fuck. And you want to —”

“Yes. I want to, and I’m scared and I also think it’s really important.”

“You don’t need to explain. I’ll go with you.”

“I’ve been a mess ever since I found out. When it was the same day you were arriving, I couldn’t believe it.”

“Coincidence.”

“No such thing.”

chapter 69

Three years before

AS ALTHEA TURNED COUNTER-clockwise on her ethereal stage, the burgundy gauze lifted, inching its way closer to show time. The skin-screen surrounded them, pulsing and radiant. A likeness emerged as if shot from a roaming camera. Watching the images unfold before her, Althea was transfixed, immersed in an otherworldly virtual reality — one in which she knew that she was more than a witness
.

Framed on the curved screen was a tall man with lustrous black hair and a well-trimmed beard, sitting astride a galloping horse in a rainstorm. He wore a loose, embroidered tunic and tights and Althea could feel the dampness of his clothing, his burning thighs, and could smell the horse’s sweat. Within his thoughts, she deciphered a name: Amadora.

As the man rode through the countryside, lightning pierced the black sky. Two medieval towers grew slowly, like sentinels on the horizon. Inside the castle’s stone walls, the man dismounted, disappearing through an arched doorway. Inside, his voice echoed in the cavernous and dimly lit rooms, which were deserted and opulent with carved wood and golden furniture, tapestries and portraits.

In the castle’s small chapel, a woman prayed by candlelight, a red hood covering her face, and an ornate crucifix around her neck. At the man’s abrupt entrance, the woman screamed. Althea could feel the woman’s heart, which was filled with panic and defiance. The man argued with her, and at first, the woman argued back, her eyes flashing, her hands expressive. As the man hit the woman across the face, Althea cringed, feeling the searing sting of the blow, and an explosion of pain in her hip as the woman fell to the floor, one arm up, the other shielding her body.

Horrified, Althea watched felt as the man straddled her, Althea’s screams of anger transformed into terror, and as Althea fought the crushing pressure on her chest, the scene opened up, and Althea was no longer an empathic witness, but a full player in the drama that was unfolding.

Hands hit the side of Althea’s head, and her shoulder ground painfully against the stone floor. She felt hot breath on her neck, fingers like claws in her face, and her own muscles straining with the deafening screams. All she wanted was for the screams to stop, and as the woman’s body writhed underneath her, her rage ruptured and a circular pool of red and thrashing silver grew —

cold steel in her palm

the splinter of bone under her fist

flesh giving way like butter

then silence

blood, sticky and metallic, pooling under her knees

Althea plunged the knife into the woman again and again, long after she stopped screaming, the knife she held buried to the hilt in the softness of the woman’s generous white belly.

Like the porcelain skin of Amadora.

In Ivana’s living room, Althea screamed, her voice spiraling into the howling wail of a wild animal. The memory exploded in her mind’s eye, the memory that she had buried in her unconscious for lifetimes.

His voice:
My love. Now you know
.

Slowly, she became aware of Ivana’s hand on her shoulder, and her own voice, incoherent. Tremors wracked her body. Gingerly, Ivana helped her sit up. Still convulsing, Althea struggled to hold her knees to her chest, gulping air. How long had she been lying on Ivana’s polished oak floor?

“Whenever you’re ready,” Ivana said. “Take your time.” The man that had delivered them tea handed Althea a cool cloth, and Ivana motioned for him to stay. Minutes passed. Slowly, Althea returned to her body. When she spoke, her voice was small and hoarse.
Now she knew
.

“I killed her.”

“Who?” Althea remembered the screaming argument, the feel of the woman’s body under her.
Amadora
. She didn’t know for sure until she said it.

“Kevin. The woman was Kevin. Kevin was ... my wife. I was a man, a horrible man. I had a knife. There was so much blood.” Now that she knew, it was so obvious to her. Gently, Ivana continued.

“Where was Tori?”

“Tori was ...” Althea stopped until the truth came clearly into her mind. “Tori was my mistress. Her name was Amadora. I wanted to leave my wife for her.”

“What else,” Ivana said.
What else, he whispered
. The final realization entered her consciousness and her stomach turned to stone.
How could she
...

“She was p- pregnant. Seven months.”

“Who?”

“My wife. Kevin. She didn’t want me to leave. I k- killed my wife and unborn child.” Althea’s teeth began to chatter. Ivana
wrapped a blanket around her.
The Queen of Cups is you
.

“Do you know the child?” Ivana asked. Althea shook her head. She didn’t know the child.

Althea looked up through her tears, and Ivana was smiling at her. She had just confessed to murdering someone, and Ivana was smiling. It didn’t make sense.

“This was a long time coming for you, wasn’t it? You were so ready. What if I told you there was a way to let this go for good, would you want that?”

“Yes.”

Althea sat quietly, allowing the horrifying memory to fade, allowing herself to be where she was now, who she was now, no longer a man who would murder someone, but here in Ivana’s study, hurting so terribly, and wanting to understand her life. Her heart was drained, her mind was blank, there was so much to absorb. She didn’t know what lay ahead for her. But for the first time she could remember, she felt hope.

Althea looked out Ivana’s window into the sunshine and flowers beyond. The scene she had imagined had felt so real. If it was true, and there was such a thing as karma and past lives, what had happened with Kevin and Tori would make sense. Why she had carried so much guilt and was terrified of her own anger would make sense. Not only that, but her vehement objections to becoming a mother would make sense.

Even if the memory wasn’t literally real, it still made sense.

Simply because it
felt
right.

chapter 70

The present

ALTHEA PARKED IN A space close to the exit. They were early. Even so, the parking lot was filling up.

“Are you ready?” Celia asked.

“No. But I’m going anyway.” She knew what she was doing was right. Anger didn’t work, running away didn’t work, pretending to rise above it didn’t work.
Make a new choice
. That’s why she was here.

As they drove, Celia kept the conversation going. The last fifteen minutes, they drove in silence and Althea felt the tension rising inside her. She had no idea it would be this hard. Her hands were cold, her stomach was a tight knot, radiating into an uneasy sensation down her legs. Her heart thudded. She had to keep moving. If she stopped, she wasn’t sure if she could get going again.

“Just keep me going in the right direction, okay? I don’t know how I’m going to be.”

“Just do what you need to do, Al. Don’t worry about me, I’m here for you.”

Althea got out of the car on rubbery legs and they walked across the parking lot toward the church. As she approached it, she remembered being here before, with different people, on different occasions. She gripped the iron railing on the way up the stairs, and each step felt like three. Her legs morphed from rubber to lead.

She forced herself to look up as she entered, the melancholy notes of an organ echoing off the cathedral ceilings. Kevin’s mother and father stood in the front row of the church. Althea remembered when she had disliked Kevin’s mother so much that she didn’t even want to look at her. Today, she looked fragile. She glanced by Althea, distracted. Althea looked straight ahead and kept walking.

The casket at the front of the church was open. Tori was paler in death than she was in life, though her features remained just as fine. Her hair was longer than Althea remembered, fanning out all around her. Tori had drowned while running in a triathlon. Just like that. She could feel Celia standing behind her, her hand on elbow.

“I’m okay.” Althea stepped forward, and looked into her childhood friend’s face, reflecting on a friendship that had gone so wrong. Yet one that had helped her understand the most elusive shadows of herself. Years ago, she had worked with Ivana to forgive Tori and Kevin for betraying her and, more importantly, she had forgiven herself for what she believed was her role in previous lifetimes together. But now, three years later, Althea had never anticipated this ending.

Althea stood over Tori’s casket and sobbed. She cried for Tori, a life cut short. She cried for those that loved her. She cried for her own heart that had been ripped open again and again, self-punishment for deeds she believed she had committed lifetimes ago. She cried because she missed her friend, had missed her every day since her heart had broken, and because she had never had a chance in person to say goodbye.