Double Tears
Chapter 131
“The truth is far, far stranger.”
—M. Suddain, Theatre of the Gods
THE GRAY HAZE hung over my eyes. I couldn’t see the dashboard or even the steering wheel that I held in a death grip. Yet irrelevant details blossomed in my vision. Straight ahead, across the railroad tracks, was the Etna Elevator, its flaking paint still displaying a Purina logo. In the rearview mirror, I could see the gazebo built on stilts as if some raging flood were expected. Beyond, a pastoral mural painted on the side of a building. I wondered where in Indiana the artist thought there were towering mountains like those in the painting. To my left was the post office and across a street wide enough for a four-lane highway was a deserted bank. These things were all perfectly clear in my eyes, yet I couldn’t focus on Beca’s hand that gripped my arm like I might try to escape.
“Please,” I whispered again. The sound I heard in reply was a strangled whimper as her grip on me tightened some more.
“You’ve held that in for two years?” she cried. “My poor Jacob. My darling, darling Jacob.” Her arm wrapped around my chest and she hugged herself to me. “Those things you remember… the recovered memories of your past life… those things really happened to you, didn’t they?”
“Yes,” I croaked. “Eighty years, ten months, and twelve days. I lost my first wife, Rebecca, to cancer. My second wife to a deteriorating heart. I left behind a son and a daughter and four grandchildren, one of them pregnant. And I can’t even call their faces up in my mind anymore.”
“But you don’t remember bidding on Desi’s virginity or learning to play the guitar,” she sighed. “Jacob, I’m so sorry. Sorry for all your losses, I mean. But I am so happy that you are here with me. I love you so much it hurts. Don’t turn away from us.”
“You don’t hate me?”
“What changed in the past ten minutes? Have you just become someone different? Are you not the boy I fell in love with? Do you no longer love me? Those were the questions you asked me when I told you I was transitioning. And then you sealed it with a kiss.” She pulled my face down to her and kissed me with both passion and compassion. And she held me and wept with me.
“I’ve been so afraid everyone would think I was a perverted old man,” I whispered. “I thought so for a long while. I still have moments when I think, ‘If they knew the truth, they would run from me.’ I’ve constantly been afraid I would slip. Have on many occasions. The history of my reality is different than this one. So many things are the same that tiny differences trip me up.”
“You need to tell Rachel. No one else needs to know but Rachel and I do.”
“I suppose. Why?”
“Because if everyone else left the pod tomorrow, Rachel and I would still be with you.”
After a few more kisses and wiping our eyes, we got back on the road to Chicago.
“Was there a version of each of us in your world?” she asked as we chatted. I’d mentioned knowing Rachel in 1952. I think it would have been easier on Beca if she thought I died in 2084 and came back in time than it was knowing I’d been born in 1937. We were exploring my past with the same care we took when I explored her sex. It was a private area that had changed but that we wanted to share with the other.
“No. For example, Rebecca was the name of my first wife but I didn’t and don’t recognize you as her. You just happen to have the same name. Or a variant. On the other hand, seeing Rachel almost sent me into shock. She was a flirtatious teen I fantasized about for sixty years. Then, suddenly she was flesh and blood, holding my hand and eventually making love to me.”
“But she wasn’t part of this world?”
“No. The variant of this world I came from had no National Service, for example, and would never get one because our politics are so divided that the mention of anything mandatory would bring attacks from every side. The liberals would consider it ultra-nationalistic. The religious right would consider it a plot of godless communists and worse yet, part of the gay agenda. The rich would want deferments. The poor would be the only ones who actually ever served.”
“Those all seem so strange. No wonder you had trouble with US History.”
“Worse are the old man opinions I carry hidden in dark places of my mind,” I said. “When you age, you tend to grow in your opinion of superiority. I was terribly critical of Millennials, for example. Spoiled brats. And the next generation after them—those who were actually born near and after the turn of the century—were worse yet. When I was given a fourteen-year-old body, I thought it would be when I was fourteen in my timeline… to live it over, so to speak. Instead, I was in the body of one of the kids that my old man had despised. I haven’t caught up with my new generation yet.”
“You know, we’re a lot alike,” Beca mused. She still held my right arm as I drove, though lightly now as she leaned against me. “We both got new bodies. We both have to adapt to a new way of life. The only ones in our pod that I’ve told about it are you and Rachel. She’d already guessed. She’s probably already guessed about you, too.”
“If someone came up to me and told me they were an eighty-year-old in a seventeen-year-old body, I’d think they were lying at best and insane at worst. Possibly even dangerous.”
“If anyone who’s seen my cute ass and perky titties was told I used to be a boy, they’d assume the same thing. You didn’t. I don’t. Rachel doesn’t and won’t.”
“Beca, I would die if I lost you as my best friend.”
“Won’t happen, Love.”
Beca and I got to Joan’s condo shortly before she did and Debbie, Joan’s stepmom, let us in. Something smelled really good.
“I hope you don’t mind me acting all domestic for a change,” Debbie said. “I thought we could eat in tonight instead of fighting the rush of crowds in restaurants. I think this is the busiest night of the year for restaurants.”
“Thank you, Debbie. What can we do to help?” Beca asked.
“Something smells incredible,” I added.
“I thought we’d try Cornish game hens tonight,” she answered. “I hope they taste as good as they smell. I expect Ray and Joan will be home in about half an hour. Rebeca, you know where all the dishes are; would you mind setting the table? Jacob, you’ll find some white wine in the refrigerator. Let’s start with the Riesling. You can uncork it to breathe and pour me a glass if you don’t mind.”
“Your PNSAT results are fascinating, Jacob,” Ray said as we enjoyed the hens and even the three of us teens had a little wine. “Our analysis says that the government may be broadening the scope of NS Occupations and is moving even more aggressively into areas in which there is little government influence today. Olivia had a similar result in her invitation to try out for an athletic berth. And for you, an offer to audition at the National School of the Arts.”
“I was pretty surprised. I haven’t responded yet since they asked that I contact them in February, but since Cindy has been invited to audition with me, we probably will. I still don’t get what it means, though, in regard to starting at a school before National Service.”
“Our investigation so far is revealing some interesting things. First, we’ve discovered there are now nearly a third of the students at the school who are in the National Service. They are also in various orchestras and other musical groups, including the American Youth Orchestra that was mentioned in your letter. Second, we’re seeing more pressure to move up or move out. Mostly to move out. The corps is looking at too many managers in the coming months. That’s something we in business could have told them a long time ago. They were very aggressive about signing up management track candidates in the first few years and contracting them for an additional six years. That means they now have as many management candidates as they have corps personnel. If the candidate hasn’t moved up in their status by year four, they are being asked to leave the service.”
“Wow! That’s harsh.”
“It’s military management. There are always new candidates coming in, so if you aren’t on track to advance make room for someone who is,” Ray said. “Rebeca, how did you feel about the results of your test?”
“I found it hard to read. It mentioned levels of aptitude in marketing, management, administration, logistics, language, and social services. But it didn’t really point out what any of that meant,” she said.
As I listened to Ray talk about what all our testing meant and why some things were bound to be vague at this point, I got to wondering what V1 had missed. Aside from nearly ending my marriage, what had I missed by screwing Sharon Long instead of becoming friends with her husband. I found Ray to be sharp, helpful, concerned, and a real mentor as we struggled with learning what our service was going to do to us. And as we talked, I discovered our pod was not the only group he was working with. He was a good guy and I was glad I got to know him this time around.
Christmas Eve. I was back home after leaving Beca with Joan. Unless called back, Joan was free for the holiday weekend. We had a loving time Wednesday night and I left pretty early on Thursday.
Traditionally, our family went to church for Christmas Eve midnight service. It was a long shot, but I asked Rachel if she’d go with us. She talked to her parents and said they were fine with me picking her up at ten as long as she was home for family Christmas at eight in the morning. That was perfect.
I held her hand as we sat in the church with my family and sang ‘Joy to the World’ at the end of the service. It was beautiful and, if you must know, I cried. I’d played over in my mind what I would say to Rachel all the way back from Chicago. Now that Beca knew my secret, I needed to tell Rachel as soon as possible. Having her in my bed overnight on Christmas Eve would be the best opportunity I would ever have.
“Thank you for taking me with you tonight,” Rachel said as she kissed me. “I feel like I know you so much better now.”
“You’re about to find out more,” I whispered. We were cuddled naked in my bed after we’d had hot chocolate and cookies following the service. Mom, Dad, and Pey went straight to bed and wished Rachel and me sweet dreams with visions of sugar plums. It was cute. I still had moments of not understanding at all how my parents tolerated… accepted that I would periodically have one of my girlfriends in bed with me on an overnight. Those occasions had become less frequent since we often spent the night at Donna’s. I didn’t do Sunday concerts any longer, so it was unusual for anyone to stay the night.
“Are you going to tell me secrets?” she whispered, nibbling on my ear. I clutched her to me desperately, wanting to make love and put this off a little longer but knowing I needed to get it out in the open between us. Then, if she was still my girlfriend, we could make love maybe or just fall asleep together. If not, I could dress and take her home.
“Yes. It’s about who I really am. Rachel, I’ve told Beca. I don’t want to tell anyone else. If you decide you can’t live with me, all I ask is that you not tell anyone else,” I said.
“Is this about you not really being Jacob Hopkins? Or at least not the Jacob Hopkins who tried to commit suicide?” she asked. I was truly alarmed.
“You know? How? Does anyone else know?”
“Shh. Baby, don’t panic. No one else knows. Donna might suspect based on all the ‘fiction’ you’ve given her to read. But I don’t think she consciously knows.”
“How did you find out?”
“I don’t know everything, lover. Probably not even as much as I think I know, or have deduced. I want you to tell me everything. I started trying to figure out what happened to you soon after we met. I’m pretty smart and I know how to read and do research. There isn’t any kind of known amnesia like you seem to have. If anything, it’s more like you have a few spotty memories of Jacob Hopkins but they are less real to you than your so-called recovered past-life memories. And unless he has been raised in an environment that encourages such fantasies—and you weren’t—it is not normal for a fifteen-year-old boy to be so attracted to older women. Or to be able to seduce them so easily.”
“I didn’t seduce anyone!”
“Shh. Of course not. Donna might eventually have come around, but she would never have quit her job and broken off her engagement for one of her students. Sophie—sure, she has an attraction to teens. Maybe it makes her feel young to have given in to Brittany first and let her talk her into wanting you. But Nanette? Nan is the most level-headed of all of us. She would never allow herself to become infatuated with a teen—even if he showed promise as a runner or was one of her clients. Especially if he was one of her clients. There had to be something special about you to attract those three.”
“I’ve always been attracted to older women.”
“Of course you have. But even Emily would not have succumbed to her brother’s charm. Deep inside, she’s convinced herself that you aren’t really her brother and your relationship is fine. But she holds that in a delicate balance because I don’t think she’d survive if she thought her brother was dead. He is, isn’t he, Jacob?”
“Yes. He died on August 29, 2018. The same day I died. Only I got transplanted whole into his crippled body.”
“It was the only logical explanation,” Rachel giggled. “Though calling it a logical explanation makes my head spin. Tell me your story, Jacob. I love you and I will always love you. I think I loved you before I ever knew you.”
“You kept it well concealed back in 1952,” I sighed.
“1952? How old were you when you died, my love?”
“Eighty years, ten months, and twelve days.”
“And I knew you in your other life?”
“You were my fantasy girl. You sat across the room from me in ninth grade English. I loved to look at your legs when you wore a poodle skirt with bobby socks and saddle shoes. But I could never get the courage up to ask you out.”
“We must both have been pretty stupid to pass up that chance at life together. It won’t happen again.”
“Really, Rachel? It doesn’t shock you? Horrify you that you are in love with an eighty-year-old man. Eighty-two now.”
“Mmm, no. It might have made a difference if I’d encountered you when you were old—I mean in an old body. I’m sure you were handsome and studly as a grandfather, but I’ll bet your butt cheeks sagged. Probably even had a pot belly. Those are things you can only grow together with and let pass. My vain teenage hotness would never consider coupling with him, no matter how marvelous a man he was inside.”
“Yes. I’ve always thought that was a fundamental flaw in a lot of erotica. Old—or at least older—man gets hot young chick who can’t resist him. But, you can’t imagine how young and hot Nanette looks to the eighty-year-old me.” Rachel laughed.
“Well, if you hadn’t captured her heart, it’s unlikely any of the rest of us would have made the move. Having made it, though, I can’t thank you enough for bringing her into our pod,” she said. “Who else in our pod did you know?”
“Well, Desiree, but she wasn’t anything like the Desi we know and love. She was a college psychology professor who was a dominatrix and had me under her thumb for the better part of a semester.”
“Hot!”
“Not. Donna was our English teacher in ninth grade. She got married and quit teaching after just one year. And Joan… er… her mother.”
“You didn’t know Joan but you knew Sharon?”
“We had a torrid affair in my forties that almost ended my marriage,” I sighed. “It would have if Rebecca hadn’t gotten sick. I hurt her so much and could only sit by her bed and watch as she faded away.”
“Oh, Jacob. I’m so sorry. How awful that must have been for both of you. Knowing Sharon, though, I can see how she could have trapped you.”
“It’s a two-way street. I was pretty full of myself.”
“How about making me full of yourself?” she asked, stroking my cock. The slightest touch from Rachel turned me on and lying here with her naked in my arms had never let my cock get more than half-soft even with the heavy subject matter we were discussing. “I want to know much more about the life you lived and the world you lived in, Jacob. But it doesn’t make a difference. I fell in love with who you are now. That includes your lifelong memories and your teenage body and the hidden talents emerging from the combination of the two. Make love to me. Then tell me more. We have all night.”
25 December 2020
Talking to Rachel was like it always is. She is so wonderful and I would do anything in my power for her. We made love last night and then talked the rest of the night. By the time we got out of bed so I could take her to be with her family on Christmas morning, we’d made love again and told each other about our dreams and feelings and why I thought I was put on this new earth.
I wonder about the others in our pod and whether I should come completely clean and confess the truth to all of them. I love them all. But that doesn’t seem to be enough. I trust Rachel and Beca to the depths of my soul. I know they would never betray me. And now, I know they would never leave me. As Beca said, if all our other mates left us, there would still be the three of us forever.
It feels good to have someone I’ve shared my secret with. And at the same time, I know it has pushed us even closer together and I hope that doesn’t mean the others are further away. If Donna’s analogy is correct, we are the carbon atoms and the other girls are elements that have attached themselves to us to make the organic compound of our pod.
As we approach the New Year, I know that I love them even more than I did before.
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