Operation Soulmate Read online

  But surely he still deserved a proper apology from her. Sure, she’d said she was sorry a couple of times but, in the heat of the moment, he’d been too angry to really take it in. He’d had time to think now and the weekend was upon him. A weekend which suddenly felt depressingly like the weekends he’d somehow plodded through without a date with Gerry to look forward to. He was a fine one to talk anyway. He’d hardly been entirely clear with Indira ...or Geraldine about his own dating situation. As far as Indira was concerned, the two of them were, probably, having a full-on relationship.

  It wasn’t so much that he didn’t trust Geraldine. After all, she’d convinced him that there was nothing going on between her and Ben, and he believed her... but there was just something about his general proximity that remained...irritating. That and the fact the he so obviously fancied her. But then, what man wouldn’t? The more he thought about it, the more he realised that he’d been a bit unfair towards Geraldine. It wasn’t her fault she was beautiful, and she had taken the trouble to explain to him, the circumstances through which she had come to be living with Ben. And drawn his attention to the rather ambiguous conversation they’d had that had led to the misunderstanding. Where was his sense of humour?!!! Geraldine hadn’t really done anything wrong! Ben was the one who had to be carefully monitored. He was, so clearly, just waiting for his moment to pounce.

  Toby decided he hated Fridays with a passion. Why couldn’t school just roll right on through the weekend, leaving no time whatsoever for socialising, complex emotions and modern dating protocol?

  He was just leaving school and enjoying the rare experience of an early finish when INDIRA appeared on his screen.

  He sighed before answering. “Hey Indie.”

  “Daaaaaahrling, how are you? What sort of day have you had?” Indira listened sympathetically, as Toby sifted through some of the more interesting details of his day. “ “Mmmm hm. Uh hu...Ohhhh, sweeeeeeeetie,” she said, “Sounds to me like you could do with a nice hot meal and a looong, luxurious back-rub.” Toby could almost imagine how amazing Indira’s cooking would taste, even though she’d only ever made him sweets, cookies and cakes so far. And his shoulders were actually feeling quite tense, what with all the stresses of work and his recent problems with Geraldine. Of course, he’d always known, somewhere deep inside, that one day Indira would simply catch him in a weak moment, and he’d be powerless to resist her fairly substantial charms and offers of comfort food. He knew that if he let her in even an inch closer, she'd probably completely take over the running of his home life and eventually snag him for good. He didn’t care. At that moment, it was worth the risk. He was tired of the guessing games. He wanted incessant, inappropriate phone calls, predictability and baked goods, and he wanted all emotional decisions to be taken out of his hands once and for all.

  “That sounds like exactly what I need right now.” He said, welcoming refreshing clarity of intent. He sighed deeply and banished from his mind, all thoughts of reconciliation with Geraldine.

  Geraldine had felt weird all day. She had no idea what she was feeling weird about; it was just a general, amorphous kind of weirdness. The guilt about her encounter with Ben and the subsequent misunderstanding about his sexual orientation had now evaporated completely, so there was nothing left to feel weird about. She'd felt fairly numb when she'd completely ignored an earlier, incoming call from Carl, and had thought for a while that it might be because she was missing Toby, but wasn’t entirely sure. She needed Ben to help her figure it all out, but he’d been peculiarly vague about the whole topic of relationships just recently. She’d thought a couple of times about calling Toby, just to say hi and to maybe apologise again. But, at the last minute, she’d thought better of it.

  What was the point when there was probably barely even any chance of a friendship with him. She decided to maybe give the whole dating thing a break for a while, regardless of her impending and now fast-approaching birthday .

  For some reason, she suddenly remembered Ben’s promise to marry her if all else failed, and laughed quietly to herself as she checked the appointments diary to see what the working day might have in store. She could certainly do a lot worse, but that wasn’t the point. Had things really gotten so bad that she was now prepared to accept an offer of marriage, which had simply been made out of pity? How dare he offer to marry her out of pity... and how deeply, deeply humiliating it all was.

  It was at that moment that Geraldine decided she needed help and she needed it badly. It wasn’t the kind of help that Ben could offer. He was a brilliant coach and certainly had all the necessary skills to help her, but it suddenly dawned on her that for far too long now, she had done absolutely nothing to help herself. The break-up with Andrew had obviously had a devastating effect on her confidence with all men and she was suddenly forced to admit to herself, right there among the little crystal Angels, that something would have to change, drastically. Some new and dramatic strain of self-healing or self-awareness was going to have to permeate her consciousness if she was ever going be able to truly move on. She’d messed up Operation Soulmate, she’d messed up the whole thing with Toby, she’d almost destroyed her precious friendship with Ben and now she was on the verge of messing up the most important relationship in her life...the strained and tenuous one she had with herself.

  She met Carl, immediately after work, having absent-mindedly agreed to a sort of semi-date with him when he'd called again and caught her between readings while her guard was down and she was feeling altogether more hopeful. She made no effort with her appearance, whatsoever, aside from a quick lipstick touch-up and a squirt of perfume and, as promised by the general lack of enthusiasm she'd experienced during the call, the date felt much more like a friend’s catch-up. It could have been Carl’s easy, laid-back manner, or her recent disappointment over the Toby debacle. It could have been her new resolve to get help or that strange amorphous weirdness she was feeling. It could have been the growing numbness that seemed to penetrate her very being at the just the thought of any more button-pressing heart-to-hearts with Ben about where she was going wrong in her love-life... or it could have simply been the general disenchantment she felt at the thought of going on any more dates, with anyone else...ever again!!

  Whatever it was, Geraldine found herself thinking about past-life therapy all evening, instead of concentrating on some of the clearly gripping stuff Carl was sharing with her about his recent trip to The Sudan. She suddenly felt as if she’d heard everything before, said in every possible way, pouring out from secretly cynical mouths like flavourless honey, from overworked hives ...received by equally jaded old ears. She wanted new ears now: new ears and new, innocent eyes through which she could once again truly see the world and its inhabitants for the essentially beautiful things they were. She demanded right then, before it was too late, the ears and eyes of a woman who could surrender completely to the beauty and mystery of pure, unadulterated and unconditional Twin Flame love, and who, by the truest and most natural laws of attraction, would then inevitably draw to her side, a wonderful man who was able to do the same. Her life now depended on it. Her soul cried out for it, and her heart, surely, deserved to know that it was still possible.

  Her mind flashed back to her harrowing relationship with Andrew and the way he had taken out his latent aggression on her until she had finally come to her senses. The times she’d gotten dressed up to go out, and he’d found some small thing to criticise. “Black and purple together! Aren’t they funeral colours?" or... "I'm not so sure about wearing a flower...it's a bit 'out there' isn't it? I'm just saying?" or.. "Why are you getting upset?!! All I said was that I don't think that kind of skirt looks good on women with your body shape...” Or the times he would wax lyrical about the seemingly endless talents of some singer, or the youthfulness and creativity of some woman he'd met on the music scene. But of course, when she began to feel insure, he was always "Only telling the truth!!!!" And, after all, what did she want him to do... lie!?!
No, she didn't, she would argue, she just wanted him to stop volunteering the information so freely every time it had looked as if she was beginning to like herself again! Or, maybe she just wanted him to occasionally say something nice about her as well... the woman he was supposedly in love with. Then of course, he'd usually fly into one of his rages about it, and yet another evening would be completely ruined.

  Then there was the time she’d accidentally spilled some detergent on the kitchen counter and Andrew had flown into a rage and complained about all the dreadful chemicals in everything, and how it all had to be cleaned up immediately in case any of it crept into his food while she was chopping vegetables. Andrew was always flying into a rage about things, usually completely unexpectedly. They would simply flare up out of nothing! And it was the unpredictability and unreasonableness of his rages that made them so unsettling, and that made him so difficult, and sometimes even frightening to be with. Then there were the times she'd had to cancel shifts at work, because Andrew had flown into several rages, and an entire evening of arguing over absolutely nothing, had left her feeling anxious, drained and battered. There were a lot of shift cancellations around that time. So many, in fact, that it wasn't long before her income was reduced to a third of what it was when she'd first started living with him, and then, of course, the more dependent on him she became, the more cruel and unjust his outbursts seemed to be. There were even times when the apology for one violent rage had barely left his lips before he was flying into yet another one. Then there was the time she'd been instructed by her doctor to wear a heart monitor for a day because of the erratic beating, clenching and thumping in her heart.

  Oh, he never hit her, of course. He didn't need to. She was already more battered and broken inside than any good person had the right to be. No one knew how awful her life was, or why she could barely hold down a job and had become a virtual recluse. She spent half her time trying to convince them that everything was great, and the other half trying to make things better for everyone else. And all the while she was slowly dying inside and wishing he would just kill her and end the misery. Too ashamed to tell anyone, too hopeless to ask for help and too deeply, deeply concerned that she might one day reach out for help and be refused it, proving, once and for all, that there was absolutely no goodness in the world, whatsoever.

  Who would have believed her anyway? Andrew could be such a charming man among his circle of friends and acquaintances. But they didn't live with him; they didn't see the Andrew she saw. They weren't there when she’d shared her first article with him and he’d laughed at the ridiculous premise upon which it was based. She could still remember how hollow and burnt-out she’d felt as she’d deleted the document and closed her lap top, carefully putting it away in a drawer. Two years later, she’d seen an almost identical feature in a copy of an international glossy magazine. And when she’d shown it to Andrew, he’d said, “Wow, you were ahead of your time, babe.”

  Then there were the times he'd criticised her hair, her nails, her grammar, the way she sat, the way she stood, her taste in music, her friends. The very same friends who soon stopped calling, and who, when she’d finally plucked up the courage to ask them why, had told her, “We just thought you seemed really busy.. with Andrew,” as if looking after Andrew was a rather demanding full-time job. Then there were the times he simply withdrew all affection. No touching, holding, stroking, nothing. It was as if she didn't exist, even though she sat right next to him, reaching out through the emptiness, trying to make sense of it all.

  Thankfully, Andrew didn’t believe in marriage, but she’d still waited five years for him to change his mind, or to get that big break touring with some big-name band or show, or to get a couple of songs published. The kind of break that might make him a bit happier and more fulfilled, more satisfied with himself and less angry. She tried hard to convince herself that when something good finally happened for him, he might actually become a happier, more settled person, the kind of person who was a little more willing to make some sort of commitment. But the years had come and gone, taking most of her youth and self-esteem with them. Looking back, she was often filled with a rare combination of relief and loathing. Relief that she had never had the misfortune to marry him, and loathing for both of them: him for what he had done, and herself for what her weakness had allowed him to do to her.

  Eventually, she’d woken up early, one Saturday morning, when the birds were singing and spring was springing, and without warning or ceremony, had moved in with her mum for a month, to get things straight in her head. In that first month, she had somehow managed to achieve more career wise than she had done in the previous year, and, in time, the month became two month and then three, and by the time she was ready to stand on her own two feet again eight months later, her life had changed dramatically, and she was working full time on a well known women's glossy magazine. After that, her life had taken on a life of its own, and her career and destiny had taken off in leaps and bounds, as if making up for lost time. Her troubles with Andrew were a dim and distant memory, and she had somehow bounced back, once again..

  She couldn't even bear to imagine where she might be now if she hadn’t moved out when she did, but some inner impulse had risen up inside her and propelled her to make a move that day, and that same incisive impulse had never failed her since.

  Her mum had never asked what had happened. Maybe she just couldn't bear to hear it. She’d just seemed happy to hear that her baby was finally ready to move on with her life.

  Chapter 18

  As soon as she sat down on the comfortable, leather chair, Geraldine felt happier. She was, finally, doing something different. Different behaviours, different results, she mentally parroted from Ben’s pattern-interrupt sheet. She smiled as she imagine how pleased he'd be that she'd actually taken the time to read and absorb it. But it wasn't always easy to work through these things alone, and she'd already taken up enough of Ben's time. She also knew with every inch of her being that the last thing she wanted was for Ben to become her therapist.

  The therapist she had eventually chosen, Cassia, was a kind-looking woman who walked, gracefully and purposefully, over to her desk, sporting a bohemian reconstruction of the twinset and pearls school of dress. Geraldine could see that she made a habit of trying to look professional without completely betraying her obvious hippy sensibilities. So instead of pearls, she wore a selection of amulets and African-inspired, chunky pieces. And instead of court-shoes, she wore black flip-flops with a slight heel, a gold ankle-chain and selection of toe-rings. But she did wear a pink, cashmere cardigan over a pink, cashmere sweater and that was still, by anybody’s standards...a twinset.

  Cassia oozed gentleness and compassion, and listened carefully while making seemingly endless notes, as Geraldine gave her a complete breakdown of her entire relationship history. Eventually, she stopped writing, and Geraldine sat reeling as she suddenly realised that actually, she’d been through a lot of crap! For a while, she simply let her mind wonder as she tried to digest some of it. So much for all this legendary over-sensitivity of hers...she was one tough cookie! She shook herself to attention when she realised that Cassia’s lips were moving but her ears didn’t seem to be taking in any new information.

  “So, okay, Geraldine,” she was saying, “Before we start, I’d like to just clarify a few points about hypnosis and to completely reassure you, regarding any concerns you might have about the process. Geraldine listened politely as Cassia went through a list of salient points, and was a bit disappointed to hear that, throughout the process, she’d remain aware of everything that went on in the room. She already knew what a mildly altered state felt like, having practiced meditation for several years. She wanted this experience to be more than that. She wanted to be out cold and completely transported to another world, another time and place, one she could believe in, one that would effortlessly reveal all the answers to her current dilemmas and struggles, without any tiresome, left-brain interference
.

  By the time Cassia completed the excessively detailed and tortuous explanation of hypnosis, Geraldine felt as if she was already slipping into a trance. In fact, if there was much more of that coming, total unconsciousness was going to be a breeze. Just when she had almost given up hope of ever leaving the room in that lifetime, Cassia seemed to change gear slightly. Something was about to start happening. Good.

  “So just sit back and close your eyes and notice how your body’s feeling” Geraldine could feel herself melting into the couch with sheer relief, as the induction, finally, began in earnest. She had no idea how long she’d been lying there, but after a while, she almost laughed out loud when she suddenly became aware that she was a little boy, with curly, blond hair, sitting in the middle of a clearing, somewhere that appeared to be the vast plains of the “Wild West”. She giggled, nervously.

  Cassia’s voice drifted through the mists of time to join her in that new reality. “What’s your name?” She said. Geraldine struggled with the space between the two worlds, for just a second, before a feeling of certainty dawned upon her and she heard a strange little voice using her own lips to say, “Patrick.”

  “And how old are you, Patrick,” said Cassia, skilfully reinforcing the new reality.

  “Eleven,”

  “And, do you know where you are, Patrick? What country you’re in...?” Patrick sighed.

  North America.”

  “Oh... I see, and how old are you Patrick?”

  “I’m twelve years and seven months old...”

  “That's nice Patrick. Thanks you. And what are you doing, right now?”

  “I’m rubbing down some wood for my Pa. We have to make a new rifle to go and shoot them there pesky Injuns.”