The Honeymoon

Whitney and Max could not believe their eyes. As Americans traveling through Europe on their honeymoon, the surreal beauty of Annecy, France almost came as a shock. Old buildings and quaint walking paths lined a clear, blue-green river that ran straight through the town. Flowers were in bloom everywhere and stone bridges carried people back and forth across the water. Nature and civilization cohabitated here in a medley of historical charm and natural beauty. The newlyweds walked hand in hand, gawking in childish wonder.

“Is this Heaven?” Whitney asked.

“Maybe,” Max replied. They stepped inside a small café and bought a baguette and a bottle of wine. They sat on black iron chairs and ate and drank, the sound of the rushing water soothing to their ears. This trip was to celebrate the beginning of a life lived together, a symbol of the journey on which they had just embarked as husband and wife. They were unaware how quickly their future was rushing toward them and, for this small period of time, they were at peace, discovering what it means to be two souls traveling the same path together.

Whitney looked down to see crumbs and an empty bottle.

“Wanna look around some more?” she asked.

“Sure,” said Max. They got to their feet and headed toward the town center. The air was crisp and the sunlight kissed their skin pleasantly. Whitney briefly closed her eyes as she walked, savoring the feeling of it all. She wanted to hold on to this moment so badly, to keep it in a mental folder that she could always take out and study as their lives moved forward. She breathed a deep sigh of nostalgia for a moment in which she was currently experiencing.

“What’s wrong? Asked Max.

“Nothing,” replied Whitney. “I just don’t want this to end.” She opened her eyes again.

“We’re still here for another couple days,” Max said.

“I know. Don’t worry, I’m just being overly emotional,” Whitney said. Max began to reply, but Whitney’s attention was already somewhere else. There was a nurse passing by them, pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair. The woman had shoulder length hair, big round sunglasses and a blanket over her legs. But that wasn’t what caught Whitney’s eye; it was the way the elderly woman was staring at her, like she knew her. But Whitney had never seen her before and was thousands of miles away from anyone she knew. As they passed one another, Whitney began to study her as much as she was studying Whitney. She felt so familiar, but she couldn’t quite place the woman. A silly thought popped into her head: That woman looks like me when I’m older. Whitney tried to push the thought away but still found herself craning her neck backwards to watch the elderly woman be wheeled away. She felt it in her bones that she knew the woman both intimately and not at all. The thought of that moment would be a kernel of curiosity that she would find herself gnawing on for years to come.

****

“Are you ready, Mrs. O’Connor?” the assistant asked.

“Yes, I think so. I mean… will I ever be?” Mrs. O’Connor asked. The assistant smiled kindly. “Will it hurt?”

“Not at all,” the assistant replied. “You won’t feel a thing. Do you remember the rules?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“As a formality, I must ask you to repeat them to me. It’s just our standard procedure, but I know you’ve got it down.”

“Okay, of course. Rule one is not to talk and to hold the mouthguard in my teeth. No communication whatsoever. Not even with you.”

“Yes, very good,” the assistant confirms. “Please continue.”

“Rule two is to stay in the wheelchair no matter what.”

“Yes, good.”

“Rule three is to wear the glasses you gave me.”

“Yes, that’s right. We will get there and stay only briefly. Many people find it… difficult to leave once they’re in, but this is all the time we have allotted.”

“Okay, I understand.”

“Okay Mrs. O’Connor, I think we’re ready. Are you warm enough?”

“It’s actually very chilly in here.” The assistant walked to a shelf on the other side of the room and pulled out a large plaid blanket.

“How’s this?” she asked as she tucked the blanket snuggly around Mrs. O’Connor’s legs.

“Much better, thank you.” The assistant took her position behind Mrs. O’Connor.

“If you’re all set, we’ll get going now.” Mrs. O’Connor took a deep breath in and released it.

“Let’s do it.” The assistant began pushing Mrs. O’Connor’s wheelchair toward the machine. At first glance, it looked almost like a normal doorway but, as they got closer, Mrs. O’Connor could see a haze beginning to form, almost like the steam from dry ice. But, as the haze began to clear, she realized she no longer saw the other half of the room. In its place, bright sunlight shone fiercely, causing her pupils to shrink and she shielded her eyes from the intensity. The smell of fresh flowers and mountain air rushed through the door. She felt a small jerk of the chair as the assistant pushed her over the threshold. Once on the other side, the sights and sounds of a small southern French town filled her senses. The people were dressed differently than what she had grown accustomed to and she had to consciously regulate her breathing to overcome the shock and emotions that were threatening to consume her. She bit down hard on the mouthguard. The assistant put a comforting hand on her shoulder and they continued to move forward into the town square. The assistant bent down and whispered into her ear.

“We have studied this sector and they will be approaching from that sidewalk within the next few seconds. Please remember that I am here with you. If you feel overwhelmed and want to leave, just tap the armrest twice. No need to say anything or nod. I know you heard me.” The assistant continued rolling Mrs. O’Connor ever so slowly forward. She stared steadily ahead, anticipating their arrival. She remembered all of it: the soothing sound of water, the smell of fresh flowers and bread baking, the feel of the gentle breeze coming off the stream. Then, as if out of a dream, they appeared. She stared at them in pure and total awe. They were young. Their skin wasn’t wrinkled. They were twenty pounds lighter. Their hair wasn’t white and their faces were vibrant. He didn’t seem to notice her, just kept walking and talking to the young woman. But, as she knew she would, the young woman stared back at her, locked on her face. They studied each other and all time stood still. Ripples and waves of memories spanning decades passed between them in an instant, seeming to circle around and around one another in a never-ending cycle. The young woman felt it. She could see that. It passed like electricity between the two of them. She knew the young woman was watching her as the assistant wheeled her away, but she could not look back. It was against the rules and the rules were there for a reason.

“You’re doing great,” whispered the assistant. “We’re going to head back now. You may feel a slight pressure as we’re returning.” Suddenly, the light was very bright again. Mrs. O’Connor braced herself as they crossed the threshold once more. The bright sunlight was gone and the soothing sounds and colors of the procedure room returned. Mrs. O’Connor removed her glasses and began wiping away tears with the backs of her hands. The assistant got a tissue and knelt down, gently dabbing at the elderly woman’s cheeks.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Mrs. O’Connor managed to say through choked tears.

“Yes,” said the assistant, smiling up at her. “How are you feeling?”

“Very raw,” replied Mrs. O’Connor. “And a little dizzy.”

“That’s normal,” the assistant hesitated. “Did you see what you were hoping to see?”

“Yes. I miss it very much. The life we had together. I suppose we still do but I miss when it was all out in front of us.”

“Please tell me if I’m overstepping but, who’s to say it’s not still? If you believe in that sort of thing.”

“You’re right. And I do. I suppose I just wanted to see it one last time. It’s so long ago that it almost feels like it didn’t happen.”

“Does it look the way you remember it?”

“Yes and no. It felt brighter then, more vibrant. But it was still a wonderful thing to see.” The assistant smiled and helped the elderly woman to her feet.

“I’m really happy you chose our company and that I was able to go with you on your journey.”

“Thank you. You have been very kind.” Mrs. O’Connor wipes fresh tears from the corners of her eyes. “What happens now?”

“We take your vitals and make sure you are safe to go home. It only takes a few minutes. Would you some time alone to process everything?”

“Yes, thank you.” The assistant got up from the floor and gave Mrs. O’Connor one more genuine smile.

“Take all the time you need,” she said, “I will be just outside the door if you need me.” Mrs. O’Connor gave her a weak but grateful smile and nodded. The assistant gently shut the door. Mrs. O’Connor sat staring at the gateway. There was no longer any trace of the steam or sunlight. It was just a mechanical-looking frame standing dormant in the center of the room. Somewhere in time she and her husband were still strolling through the streets of Annecy. They were young and happy and ignorant of the future. Somewhere in the giant loop that connected them, they were having kids and celebrating milestones and growing old together. All of these memories were just dots on an infinite circle happening and then rehappening. But she was here. This was the present and she had to continue living it. She turned her attention away from the gateway and walked to the only door that mattered now. Her frail hands turned the knob and she walked outside to see the assistant at her desk. Sitting in a lobby chair, Max looked up in hopeful anticipation. His older features more clear and endearing after just seeing him again as a young man.

“How was it?” he asked her as he rose from his seat.

“It was beautifully terrible and terribly beautiful,” she replied.

“But… you enjoyed it?”

“Yes, very much so. Thank you.” She approached him and he took her into his arms.

“Happy Birthday, Whitney,” Max said, “I love you.”

“And I love you. For all of time.”