Introduction
My world is your world—only you can’t remember any of it. A barrier exists between what you think is real and what you know to be. It had been put in place during the transition into the world you currently know and will be removed upon your return.
In other words, this is not your real life.
My name is Harmony, and I am going to let you in on a little secret. I am a student at the biggest, most famous school ever known. And so are you! It’s called Earth.
Yep. Earth is a school. Are you shocked? If you are, it’s okay. That is the most common and expected reaction to this news. I will give you a moment to let that sink in…
Just kidding! Based on the fact you’ve chosen to read this; I am going to bet that you’re a lot like me. You’re probably fine, and not shocked by this at all. If you do, however, find this news to be at all surprising, perhaps it would be best if you stopped here. This story may not be for everyone, and I am not looking to upset anyone’s beliefs. Our extreme diversity is an important part of what makes us who we are. So, this may be where we will agree to disagree and possibly part ways. Hopefully as friends.
For everyone else, I will move on.
Yes, life is about learning, and Earth is our school. I’m sure you have heard someone on Earth say this before. I know when I am there, I hear this often. Some people know, but it’s not because they remember it is. They know because people cannot get through a single day there without learning something, somehow. On Earth, learning is unavoidable.
If you’re sitting there right now searching your mind for a tiny clue that this is true, you’re wasting your time. You won’t be able to find anything.
Please don’t misunderstand me. Your memories are there. You carry them along with you, buried deep within your subconscious, hidden by a special barrier. This barrier will remain throughout your entire life on Earth, keeping you from remembering the world you came from. Not to worry though. You’ll get your memories back, along with your new ones once you…ahem…return home.
No one knows why we need this barrier, but we all have our theories. Personally, I think it’s because it gives us a chance to start off with a clean slate. We can let go of our fears and opinions. We can forget any mistakes we have made too. It also teaches us that what we think we feel about something can change, depending on the situation.
Of course, that’s just my theory. I’m sure you have your own. One thing I think we can all agree on is that birth is the only time that we can truly forget about the past.
Of all the things you will end up taking away from this story, the most important thing to remember is that there is always an exception to every rule. All of them. Using this logic, I have discovered ways of getting around and through the barrier. Yes, that’s right. I said through. It is a common misconception that the barrier blocks everything. It doesn’t. It’s like a coffee filter. It keeps the bulk on one side while only allowing what is important through. So, it’s not that we can’t remember anything. We only remember what we need to. And if you concentrate hard enough, you can get vital information through it that will help you succeed in ways you never thought possible.
A wise person once told me that all good things must come to an end. Respectfully, I must disagree. All stories have a beginning, but the best stories start at an end.
Chapter 1
Veronica Edwards
June 1980, Moodus, Connecticut, USA
As I shifted my car into park, I thought about the last time I was here at this cemetery. How stupid I was to believe that I could somehow escape what had happened. Anger boiled within me. I should’ve never believed any of those idiots who kept saying that I needed to just move past it. That I needed to just forget everything. That over time, life would get easier.
Well, it had been five years, and I begged to differ.
Every single one of us deals with loss in their own way, at their own pace. I couldn’t help but wonder if any of that so-called advice was just big fat lies people tell when they are uncomfortable around grief. Stupid jerks.
I kept my hands on the wheel, and my eyes fixed forward, while I worked on finding the courage to get out of the car. I couldn’t decide what scared me more: facing what had happened or going through the rest of my life as severely depressed as I had been.
What if I faced this and walked away the same as I came in? What if it didn’t matter? Or what if I made myself worse? The longer I sat there, the harder it became to determine whether this really was a good idea or if I was just really stupid. I had already accepted that the chance of this helping was slight. But it was still a risk I desperately was willing to take.
I turned off the car, and the silence that followed hit me in the face like a sack of bricks. And I began to cry.
This day felt as fresh as the day he died. The sadness consumed me, and my anger fueled it like I poured gasoline into a fire. I leaned forward, covering my face with my hands, and I sobbed. I hit my hand against the steering wheel a bunch of times and stomped my foot on the floor. A soft breeze blew, and a shiver, much like a mild electric shock, washed over me, and then it was over. I was done crying and became as calm as could be.
I sat back in my seat, feeling a little confused and wiped the tears from my eyes with my palms. I glanced around the car, mostly at the ceiling, trying to figure out what had just happened. The convertible’s top was up, and the windows were closed, so I had no real answer.
I picked up my bag to get a tissue and uncovered the mementos his grandfather had been nice enough to let me take from his room when I had visited their house earlier. His Led Zeppelin T-shirt and the pair of sunglasses he always wore. I ran my fingers across the T-shirt’s print, allowing myself to feel the ache in my heart. Doubt creeped back in, but I would not give up.
I glanced up into the rearview mirror, bloodshot brown eyes staring back at me. “You are tougher than this,” I told myself.
I took in a swift cleansing breath and grabbed my bag, slinging the strap over my shoulder. I then grabbed the sunglasses and stepped out of the car before I could give myself a chance to have second thoughts.
My legs wobbled a little as I walked. A breeze I could barely feel howled eerily through the trees. I paid no mind to the clear blue sky overhead or the warm June air. All I focused on was putting one foot in front of the other while making my way along the row of headstones over to his.
All those bodies lying underground tended to create such an awkward, uneasy feeling. I always ended up walking as gently as possible on the tips of my toes. I knew it sounded silly, but I felt like I was stepping on people, disturbing all those poor souls who were trying to get some rest. If this had been another occasion, I would have been apologizing.
My heart thumped hard against my ribs as his stone came into view. A dry lump rose in my throat. My head swirled, but I paused, took a deep breath, and let it out.
“Get a grip, Veronica!” I whispered.
A strange feeling came over me as I moved closer to him. Much like in the car. A soft breeze followed by a light shiver from head to toe. It confused me, because the closer I got, the easier the walk became. I worried this good feeling wouldn’t last; that it was only temporary. But no sooner had I thought that the worry was gone, and a sense of enthusiasm took its place. I couldn’t move my feet fast enough.
Once I finally reached where he was, I put on his sunglasses and smiled. “Honey, I’m home.”
I knelt in front of his headstone and placed my bag on the ground beside me. Clearing away a few leaves that had gathered, I read the names.
Seth Chase
August 28, 1956 – August 11, 1975
Joan Chase Wright
July 24, 1933 – April 17, 1967
I took off the sunglasses and placed them on the ground right under his name. As I traced the letters in his name and then in his mother’s, I stayed quiet. No words were good enough to describe how genuinely wonderful both of these people were to me. It saddened me to know that the world was without two very good souls.
“Hi, Joan.” I smiled. My eyes fixed on her name. “I hope you don’t mind that I came to visit your son today.”
I picked at the grass and turned toward his grave. “Hi, Seth.” My eyes welled up. This was the first time I had said his name willingly in years. “It’s me…Veronica. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit you until now. I moved to San Francisco after you—” Out of habit, I stopped myself before stating the obvious. “—left. I hope things are going well for you, wherever you may be. I hope you’ve found happiness there.”
A soft smile crept across my face as I babbled away, filling him in on our time apart. It helped me relax a little, and my one-sided conversation became easier. But I still continued to pick at the grass and fidget with my fingers to help keep myself talking.
I felt scared and it churned in the pit of my stomach as I approached a more sensitive topic. But I would get everything I needed to say out. I took a deep breath and let it out, fidgeting even more. As I started to really ramble, my voice became high-pitched and speedy.
“I stopped by your house today to visit George… I am sure you know he’s doing well… Do you remember the roses we planted out front? They look so good! See? I told you planting those was a good idea…” My voice drifted off. “Oh… I should confess that I went into your room while I was there. As you can see, I took your sunglasses. I hope you don’t mind.” I ducked and made a face. “I also took your Led Zeppelin shirt.”
I jumped as I realized that I had almost forgotten a small part of my plan and dug through my bag. “Oh! I almost forgot! I brought you a little treat.” I pulled out a cassette player and placed it on the ground. Then I went through my bag again, dug out a cassette, and held it up toward the headstone. I put the tape in the player and pressed play.
“Oh… What’s this? A little… Toys in the Attic?” I said, sounding dramatic. “I knew you would love this.”
I placed my back against the headstone and closed my eyes, making myself comfortable. I sang along to some of the songs. It was enjoyable at first, and, as intended, it brought memories from our time together to the surface. My hands weren’t fidgeting anymore.
Tears streamed down my cheeks. “It’s so hard not being able to talk to you, and it’s just so unfair. I’ve watched people who didn’t love each other half as much as we did get to be with each other for years, but you and I only had five months—unless you start counting from when we met in the third grade.
“But really?! Five months? That’s all we got?!” I shouted, tossing my hands up. “Just five months of happiness… And then it was just…gone.” I hung my head, cupped my face with my hands, and sobbed.
After a few moments, I wiped under my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “A year ago, my stepmother suggested that I should get back out there. I know she meant well, but I almost threw up right there. Until she said something, that thought never once crossed my mind.
“I’ve had a few guys ask me out at school, but I told them all no. I just can’t do it. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t love anyone else the same as I love you.” I wiped under my eyes again and sucked in a jagged breath. “So, I decided…that I’d rather live the rest of my life alone, loving you, than try to pretend with someone else. That’s why I came here. To tell you that.”
I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be one of those ladies with, like, forty cats.” An image of me surrounded by a house full of cats filled my mind, and I laughed. “Uh… On second thought, I think I’ll minus thirty-nine of those.” I chuckled again.
Pain shot across my forehead. I clutched my head, leaning forward in agony as the pain wrapped around my skull. I rummaged through my bag, grabbed the Tylenol and Coke I had brought with me, and took two pills. I had been carrying them everywhere I went nowadays. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I leaned forward and rested my head against my knees.
“Ugh…I just don’t get it,” I muttered through the pain. “It was like I was hit by some sort of plague when you died. The aching and the chills… I can’t breathe right. Ugh… And these headaches! No matter what I do, it just won’t let up either. It’s like I literally can’t live without you.” I grimaced from the pain. “How am I going to get through the rest of my life like this?”
I took a deep breath and exhaled. “Our love for each other has always been exceptionally strong though, hasn’t it?” I forced a weak but determined smile. “Remember, Seth? The closer you are, the better I can breathe.”
I sat there for a while, waiting for the pills to dull the pain just enough that I could function. Once they kicked in, I picked up my mess off the ground and stood.
Brushing off the back of my pants, I smiled at his stone. “I’m going up to Devil’s Hopyard now to go sit by the falls. I would have done it before while I was up that way, but I wanted to see you first, so I could invite you to come with me… I hope you follow me there… I love you so much, and I’ll never stop.”
Tears flowed down my face as I walked back over to the car and started it. I tried to stop them while I was driving, but I couldn’t.
I turned onto the road that ran over the top of the falls, pulled into the parking lot, and parked the car. The sound of rushing water greeted me the moment I turned off the engine. Like the falls were welcoming me home. I smiled.
Seth and I spent a great deal of time visiting Devil’s Hopyard State Park. It now just seemed like a good way to cap off my visit and hopefully bring me the closure that I had been searching for.
The falls were loud and energetic. I crossed the road and headed down the rocky path that runs along the side. I moved closer to the cedar fence to watch the water cascade down. Leaning against the railing, droplets sprinkled my arms and I inhaled deeply. The scent of the honeysuckle that grew by the fence hit my nose.
To my surprise, relief and happiness coursed through me the moment I did. I was more alive right here than I had been in the last five years. Maybe doing all of this was really what I needed after all.
I continued down the path and traveled across a small wooden bridge with a slight skip in my steps. Just like I did the last time we were here. I followed it down to a secluded little spot, where he had asked me to be his wife.
I sat on a rock and curled my knees in, just staring down at the water. Through the water’s reflection, I caught sight of my red and blue friendship bracelet with the little white beads. A gift from Seth from when we were eight; the day he and I decided to be best friends.
It looked a little tattered now. The white beads were a bit scuffed and had darkened over time. The red and blue woven threads had darkened too but remained strong and had never frayed. It had been so big on me when he had first tied it on. Now it fit perfectly and served as a brilliant symbol of our everlasting friendship.
I ran my fingers across the woven threads, feeling the beads. The way I always did whenever I thought of him. Instead of the sadness I had felt at the cemetery, happiness from my memories of him filled me.
It was starting to get late. I had to head back to have dinner with my grandpa.
I stood and brushed off the back of my pants. When I turned to walk up the path, intense pain shot forcefully across my head again. It brought me to my knees, and tears to my eyes. I clutched my head in my hands, doubling over in agony. Crumpled up on the rock, I cursed myself because I knew my bag with the pills was in the car.
The pain intensified, paralyzing me. My vision went askew, and a loud pop sounded inside my head.
