While I’ve been seeing visions of this stranger for quite some time, I never knew what to make of them. I could never be sure they’d manifested from any connection to reality.
Now, I know the truth.
This mysterious young woman turns her gaze back toward the sunset, avoiding eye contact and attempting to act natural. She’s pretty good at it, but the subtle tension of her body language quickly gives her away.
I gaze out at the dying light of the day, then back at the stranger, struggling with how to approach this situation. Maybe she really is a random girl who wanted to catch the sunset and would rather not be pestered.
Still, I’ve gotta find out for myself. Of all the qualities that may or may not survive my currently transforming identity, nosiness is still one of them.
I hop off the hood of my car and start walking over, hoping to find a balance between casual stroll and confident stride that only makes me breathtakingly awkward. I’m sure the girl senses me at this point, but she refuses to offer a glance of acknowledgment.
I stop next to her, not quite sure where to begin.
“Hey. Do I know you from somewhere?” I finally ask.
She doesn’t even look up. “I don’t think so.”
“Really?” I press onward. “You look super familiar. You’re not a member of the congregation, are you?”
She scoffs at this suggestion. “No.”
My heart hammers away as my mind struggles to connect the dots, this mystery a little more difficult to parse than I’d expected. I briefly consider turning around and leaving it be, but with one final surge of desperation I take my shot.
“Mind if I sit down?” I ask, affixing the mask of a cool, confident young woman. “I was watching the sunset from my car, but it’s a little uncomfortable.”
“Yes, I fucking mind!” the stranger snaps, whipping toward me in a flare of anger and frustration.
The second I see her face up close, however, everything changes. I recognize this girl immediately and deeply; she is absolutely the one who has been haunting my dreams and clouding my mind with strange, passionate visions. Up until now this connection has been strong but abstract, a tug in my subconscious that I couldn’t fully comprehend.
Now, however, there’s nothing abstract about it.
Suddenly, entirely new visions are erupting through the depths of my mind, glimpses of some other life that’s been lurking in the shadows far too long. I witness an endless ocean of the past, memories cascading over one another like crashing waves. I see a birthday cupcake with a single shimmering candle. I see a movie night. I see a chance meeting in a bookstore. I gaze deep into her eyes, knowing that I’ve seen them thousands of times even if I don’t understand how.
She’s crying, tears spilling down her cheeks as she stares back at me with fury, defeat, and aching sorrow.
“Leave me alone,” the mysterious girl growls. “I don’t fucking know you!”
“I’m sorry,” I flounder, backing away. “I just … You seem so familiar.”
“I don’t fucking know you!” she repeats, even louder this time.
The gang playing Frisbee nearby halts abruptly, glancing over at us with concern.
Not knowing what else to do, I turn and make my escape back toward the car. My whole body is shaking from the adrenaline of this conflict, an avalanche of brand-new emotions filling me to the brim with no release in sight.
When I reach the vehicle I open the door and throw myself inside, slamming it behind me and erupting in a fit of tears. My body is quaking, not just from the emotions throttling my senses but thanks to the chill that has suddenly enveloped my form. I’m freezing cold, as though I’ve found myself trapped in some invisible icebox.
My hands trembling, I reach out and start the car, blasting the heat and still finding myself without a shred of relief.
Maybe leaving the old me behind wasn’t such a good idea, I suddenly realize. Maybe this is just a taste of what happens when you turn your back on God.
I glance over to discover the girl has gathered her blanket, camera, and beer before disappearing into the gloaming. The whole park has plunged into relative darkness, stars flickering to life above me in a river of spilt glitter.
My phone rings through the car stereo, prompting me to jump in alarm. I answer quickly, pressing a button on the dash.
“Hello?” I start, terrified of the tone that will soon announce itself on the other end of the line.
“Honey?” comes my father’s voice, not nearly as fuming as I expected. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I blurt, sweet relief overwhelming me. “I just had a … weird session with Dr. Smith today.”
Dad lets out a long sigh. “It’s alright, hon. I understand.”
My father keeps talking, but as he does the signal begins to crackle and cut out. I can tell he’s trying to be supportive, but the words are too choppy for me to understand.
“I think I’m losing you,” I explain. “Service is bad out here.”
There’s no response, just waves of static washing across my ear. I listen intently, struggling to make out my father’s voice through the fuzz, and gradually a faint vocal tone begins to rise above the din. It’s a peculiar and distant sound, tough to place with all this noise swirling around it, but gradually I begin to comprehend the unexpected wail.
It sounds like someone’s screaming, not in anger but blinding pain.
The more I listen, the louder this tortured choir grows, and soon a whole cascade of shrieking and groaning has overtaken the static hum coming from my car speakers. Suddenly, the dashboard lights of my car begin to flicker on and off wildly, and my headlights follow suit.
I hang up the phone and toss it onto my passenger seat, prompting an abrupt end to the chaos.
The car falls into silence once more, headlights holding steady as warm air billows across me.
Thump! Thump!
I jolt in shock as someone knocks hard against my driver’s side window.
The girl with dark hair stands stoically in this unlit parking lot, her eyes dry but puffy. She makes a cranking motion with her hand, a sign for me to roll down my window.
I follow her instructions, retracting the glass that separates us.
“I-I’m so sorry,” the young woman stammers, a desperate thing swimming in her large black sweater. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“What are you talking about?” I reply, confused.
“I shouldn’t even be doing this,” she mumbles, the words tumbling under her breath before she barrels onward in a state of panic. “Fuck!”
The girl shakes her head from side to side, abruptly shifting emotions.
“What’s wrong?” I beg. “Can I help you?”
“No!” she cries, suddenly finding her direction. “You can’t help me, Rose. That’s the point!”
My breath catches. She knows my name.
Gradually, her expression softens as a potent realization washes through her.
“They really did a number on you, didn’t they?” She finally sighs. “All to avoid this exact moment.”
“Whatever it is, looks like it didn’t work,” I retort. “We’re here.”
For the first time, the girl cracks a smile. Truth be told, I’m not exactly sure what I meant, but I’m glad she found the slightest kernel of joy in it. I find myself compelled to ask a question that seems ridiculous at this point, especially given the intimacy that we may have once shared.