17 Messages

When she woke up, there were 17 voicemails from a stranger. Or so she thought. As she listened to the first message, it was a voice from her past.

All at once she was 18 and at Missy Granger’s house. She was having a class graduation party. Zoe was balancing a paper plate with chips, onion dip and a slice of cake on top of a cup of Coca Cola. The room was crowded, and the music was loud. Suddenly Missy came bursting in, nearly knocking everything out of Zoe’s hands.

“Oh, sorry Zoe.” Missy said in passing, “Everyone I want you to meet my boyfriend Ty Connors.” Missy announced, as if she had won a prize. She was always competitive. Like a neon sign, always flashing for attention. Thinking on it now, her being with Ty Connors was one of the most unlikely matches ever made.

Missy looked at her and said, “Ty this is Zoe Sinclair.” Zoe awkwardly offered her hand. Ty smiled and said, “Nice to meet you, Zoe.” As their hands touched a shock instantly hit them both. Not a spark, not an attraction…the shock of recognition. She knew the warmth of his palm, the slope of his shoulders, she even recognized his smile, though she had never seen him before. His blue eyes widened, as if the same impossible truth had hit him too. For a breathless moment, they stood locked in each other’s gaze, completely stunned and silent.

Finally, her hand still in his: “I…” Zoe started, but no words came.

“I know,” Ty said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I feel it too.”

“Have we…” she whispered, “Have we met before?”

“No…but yeah, somewhere, somehow… I…don’t know.” Ty was just as confused as Zoe.

“Ty!” Missy’s voice cut through the moment like a blade. “Come on!”

Before either could say another word, Missy was pulling him away. He looked back over his shoulder at Zoe, mouthing “I’m sorry” as he disappeared into a crowd of their friends.

That evening, as she walked home, the warmth of summer was all around her. Especially in the sounds of crickets and the smell of the magnolia trees lining the neighborhood streets. She thought about the feel of Ty’s hand in hers and the look of surprise in his eyes. She whispered his name: Ty Connors. Two words, she’d tucked away like a secret she didn’t understand.

Her life moved forward. Years passed, college, jobs, failed relationships, but Zoe never forgot that impossible moment of recognition. Through it all she never forgot the warmth of his hand or her whispered truth: I found you, again.

Never in a million years did she ever expect to hear his voice. Seventeen messages? Her curiosity got the better of her. She listened to the first message, again. It started with the sound of static and a crackling sound much like when a radio station isn’t completely tuned in. Then there he was. It was Ty; she hadn’t forgotten his voice. “I don’t know if this will reach you…or if you even remember me. I had to try.” Then the static took over.

With each message the static grew worse, as if something was trying to interrupt the call. Zoe wondered if he was somewhere he couldn’t get a clear signal.

The messages revealed bits and pieces of Ty’s life after the party. College, marriage, raising two children alone after divorce, his pride in them as they headed off to college.

After that, the sixteenth message caused her to gasp. She listened to it a few times trying to comprehend it.

His voice came through soft, almost completely clear: “I often thought of you, wondering if you felt the same thing I did that night. That impossible recognition.” The static increased blocking out some of the message, then clearer: “I know now why you seemed so familiar. I’ve seen us living and loving throughout many lifetimes. Here, time has no boundaries…” his voice grew fainter, “No boundaries here because I died, in a car accident 2 years ago.” Then the static consumed everything.

Zoe sat frozen on her bed. Slowly, lowering the phone. “Can this be possible?” She whispered. The silence in her room after she asked the question felt heavier than the static. She set the phone down slowly and carefully as if it might shatter. This is insane. She thought to herself. People just didn’t come back from the dead to leave voicemails. Past lives weren’t real, or were they?

Many lifetimes?

Even though her rational mind fought against it, something seemed so familiar about it all. Like a dream you can’t quite recall. That night at Missy’s party, she could never explain what happened when their hands touched. She told herself it was just a crush, or a weird moment of teenaged fantasy. But it stayed with her for years, the memory of his touch, the way his gaze held her, and his smile, all of that in just a moment.

She needed answers. She stared at the phone, trying to figure out who to go to for answers, someone who didn’t think she was losing her mind, someone who believed in the unusual and impossible.

Marlena Jarvis. She had known her mother for years, and she was Zoe’s godmother. A self-proclaimed psychic who was a bit strange, in the best way. Zoe had never taken her psychic readings seriously, but right now, she would take what she could get.

She didn’t waste any time. She drove to Marlena’s house, which sat at the end of a winding dirt road. Her small cottage looked like something out of a fairytale, nestled between two very old oak trees that formed a canopy overhead. The wraparound porch had flower boxes with different wildflowers and herbs growing in them.

Her footsteps crunched on the gravel as she approached. Before she reached the porch steps the front door was open and there stood Marlena as though she had been waiting for her. She looked the same, like she hadn’t aged. You couldn’t tell she was eighty years old. Her now silver hair was braided in two thick plaits, wild tendrils framing her tanned, weathered face. Her eyes were still sharp and as blue as a bluejay’s egg. Her arms were wide, “Zoe, sweetheart.” Zoe melted into her embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and sage that always surrounded Marlena. For a moment Zoe was twelve again, being comforted after her mother’s funeral, feeling safe in those same arms. She was always the one constant in Zoe’s life.

“I was just making some tea,” Marlena said softly, pulling back to study Zoe’s face with love and gentle concern. “Chamomile with a touch of honey, your favorite. Come on and tell me what’s brought you here with such confusion in your eyes.”

Wrapping her hands around her cup, savoring its warmth, Zoe slowly started with what happened at the party so many years ago between her and Ty, then about the seventeen voicemails. She explained how crazy it all seemed, how it defied rational thinking, she asked what on earth was she supposed to do with it all?

Marlena listened patiently, not interrupting. However, when Zoe mentioned something that struck a chord with her.

“Wait, seventeen voicemails?” Marlena asked, sitting forward in her seat.

“Yes, why?

“I’ll tell you in a bit. First, spirits have been using all types of ways to communicate. Electronics is the easiest way. The veil is always thinnest around this time of year anyway; All Hollow’s Eve is tomorrow.” Marlena said.

“Is that important?” Zoe asked.

“There are certain times a year the veil that separates the living from the dead gets thin and it gets easier for spirits to visit the realm of the living.” Marlena said, as she poured herself another cup of tea. “A living person has to participate in the conversation for the connection to work.”

“What do you mean by participate?”

“A spirit can send messages, leave signs, even call out to the living. But for a true connection, for you to be able to communicate back, you must consciously choose to invite them in, to open the door between worlds.”

“What if, a person chooses not to open the door, what happens then?” Zoe asked.

“The door closes, and that direct communication is lost. They might still reach out to you through dreams, but the genuine connection would be lost.”

“Is this ‘door’ opening dangerous?” Zoe asked.

“Not for the average person. Most people become afraid and choose not to respond. But there are special circumstances.” Marlena said, avoiding looking directly at Zoe.

“And exactly what would that special circumstance be?”

“In the case of soulmates, especially if they have shared past lives together. Sometimes, the pull to be with that loved one becomes so strong…”

“The choice becomes easy.” Zoe added.

“The choice becomes easy, yes. But it doesn’t mean it should be taken lightly. Have you listened to all the messages?”

“No, why? I’ve only listened to 16 of them. I wanted to see you first before I listened to the last one.” Zoe said.

Marlena looked deeply into Zoe’s eyes. “Sweetheart, the numbers hold a significance.” Marlena reached for her Tarot cards. She pulled the number 16 card. “This is the number 16 card, The Tower. It symbolizes destruction, upheaval, and transformation which is necessary for spiritual growth and awakening, the emergence of truth.”

“That’s why I had to come to you. What does the number 17 symbolize?”

Marlena pulled the card, looked at it, then covered the card with her hand. “This card is The Star, symbolizes inner strength and renewal."

Zoe looked at Marlena, “I never gave much thought to your readings, and the times you told me about the conversations you had with my mother after she died. I understand now.” Zoe stood to leave. Marlena went to her and hugged her.

Marlena pulled back and cupped Zoe’s face in her hands, “My darling girl, whatever you choose, I’m here for you.”

Driving home, Zoe thought about how much she loved her life. True, she had no real friendships, or relationships, except with Marlena, but it was her life. She thought of her quiet apartment, how the sunlight would stream into the window next to her bed. Her morning rituals: coffee and chocolate croissants, reading the newspaper. Simple things, but they were her things. A life she created. It wasn’t by any means extraordinary; it was real, tangible and safe.

When her thoughts drifted to Ty’s messages, she thought of the many past lives he referred to. What had they been to each other? Did they marry in Victorian England? Had they been lovers in ancient Rome? Had they experienced being other cultures, exchanged genders in various lives? The possibilities made her heart race with both excitement and terror. Was love supposed to be this impossible? Was it still love if it required her to leave behind everything she’d ever known?

Each question made her grip the steering wheel tighter. When she arrived home, Zoe threw her keys onto her coffee table and headed straight for the kitchen. The kettle went on the stove. Her favorite cup came down from the cabinet, placed carefully on the counter. She measure the tea leaves precisely into the tea ball. It gently clinked against the cup. Wiping down the already clean counter she realized what she was doing…stalling. The question she’d been avoiding: Will she listen to the last message?

She could leave it. Delete it. Go on with her quiet safe life and never know what Ty needed to tell her. Or she could press play and let whatever came next change everything.

Remembering an old saying her mother told her, “Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought her back.”

She picked up her phone; her finger hesitated over the delete button. What would be the harm in listening?

There was more static this time, Ty’s voice finally came through.

“Tonight, the veil is thin. If you agree, dial your number at midnight. The line will open. We can talk more directly just once. But be careful, Zoe. The call might draw you closer to my side than you intend.”

The message ended in a rush of crackling noise, as if something had cut him off.

For the rest of the evening, she tried to ignore the ticking clock. Every glance at her phone pulled her back to the question; what would she do?

She thought of his voice, he sounded tired as if his energy was giving out. She could also hear the hope that was in it.

Midnight came, her fingers trembling, she dialed her number. The line never rang, instead suddenly she heard his voice not through the speaker, but everywhere, as if the walls themselves were speaking his words.

“Zoe…”

Suddenly warmth spread across her palm. She looked down, there was no phone, just the feel of his hand covering hers exactly as it had that night so long ago.

The air seemed to shimmer and glow. Time stopped. A brilliant golden light filled the room, and out of it stepped Ty. He looked the same as he did at Missy’s party. He reached for her; she gasped his name…

And the world vanished.

***

Marlena had an overpowering urge to visit Zoe. When she arrived she knocked, then used the spare key that Zoe had given her years ago. She went in calling Zoe’s name, but the rooms were silent.

In the bedroom, she found her, lying on her bed, her phone still in her hand. Zoe’s eyes were open, no breath, her face serene. She was smiling.

Marlena touched her hand gently. “You went with him, didn’t you sweetheart? You made your choice .” she whispered.