I Know You

I Know You

By


storyteller

2130 wds

The last notes of the song hung in the air as the four band members ambled toward the bar for their complimentary drinks. The Starlight Lounge, a spacious, dimly-lit and peacefully quiet place on the far-west side of town, was nearly empty on this chilly October night. Tom sat alone at the long darkly stained bar sipping at a beer, wondering if he should go home, but not wanting to. The few conversations drifting around him were low murmurs that he could not understand.

Tom Horn was on the hunt; looking to his right, he saw no one that he might strike up a conversation – or more -- with if she were willing.

“I know you,” a soft voice suddenly whispered from the bar stool at his left.

John turned quickly; he didn't know her, he was sure of that, but she had been here last Tuesday night. He recalled that she seemed to merely be watching him. In fact, he thought he had seen her several times during the past few days. “You know me?”

She nodded. “And you know me.”

“From where?”

“We've known each other for a very long time.”

“Grade school? High School? College?” Tom waited for her to continue, but she just smiled. Earlier he had caught her eye in the bar mirror as she sat alone at a little round table behind him. Slightly uneasy at her boldness, he asked, “Care for another drink?”

“Not right now. But don't you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The old attraction,” she whispered in his ear.

Tom didn't know what to say. The sweet odor of her perfume wafted gently at his nose. He was greatly attracted to her. She was petite, dark haired with the classic cheekbones, and beautiful eyes.

“If you're trying to tell me that you don't feel anything toward me, I don't believe you.”

Tom took a long pull at his drink. He caught her eye in the mirror behind the bar. “Well, of course I ... think you're ... very attractive.”

“I don't mean just physically.” She gazed directly at him. “I mean spiritually, too. The connection that goes deep down into the soul. Can't you feel the cord of our love reaching down through the ages, surrounding us?”

Tom wished he'd gone home. His flirtation had attracted the wrong woman. He wanted a one-night stand, no strings - and nothing to do with love. He didn't believe in love; lust described the feelings inside him better. “Look, I was just trying to make a little conversation with you. This past lives, New Age metaphysical stuff is beyond me.”

“There's nothing New Age about it. Our bonds of love are ancient. Almost from the beginning of recorded time.”

“Look, ... I've got an early meeting in the morning. I'll order you a drink, then I'm going.”

“You've been avoiding me,” she said. “I've been looking for you much longer than most times. Usually it was all over when we were in our twenties. But this lifetime you've managed to elude me.”

Tom's lust for this woman was waning quickly. He wanted her physically but didn't want involvement with a crazy person. She didn't look crazy; just talked crazy. He thought for a moment, weighing the pleasure she implied against the trouble it could bring. “Well, I'm going to continue to elude you ...”

“Are you married this time?” She placed her hand firmly on his arm.

Her soft warmth soaked through his sleeve. Her touch calmed him. “Divorced,” he lied. But it was almost the truth; he and June slept in different bedrooms, did nothing together. The only reason they weren’t divorced was that she was rich and Tom loved money more than anything else.

“This wife you don't have, I resemble her, don't I? Or should I say she resembles me.”

Tom hesitantly nodded. She was right, though this woman was far more beautiful. “People are attracted to general patterns. A good guess on your part puts you in that category. After all, I was flirting with you. And how about you? Am I your type?”

“Definitely,” she said, glancing directly into his eyes. “You are the only one I ever look for, in whatever era we are living.”

“Then I take it you are not married.”

“I've never married anyone but you. We've been married at least two or three dozen times.” She paused and finished her drink. “It all depends on you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Sometimes you are very cruel and pretend not to know who I am.” She turned to stare out the window, “That puzzles me.”

“What puzzles you?” Tom rubbed the stubble on his chin, pondering the best way to extract himself before he was in too deep. He decided to be polite and gentle, but leave as soon as possible.

“That I always know you, but you don’t know me.”

“How about that drink now?” He asked, stalling while he considered whata to do next. He decided to go home.

“Sure.”

Tom took five dollars from the small pile in front of him and put the rest in his shirt pocket. He motioned to the bartender. “Give the lady a drink.” He stood up and turned toward her. “I've got to go to the bathroom. Be back in a few minutes.”

“Don't forget your coat,” She said
.
“My coat?”

“You weren't planning on coming back. It's cold out.”

“Oh,” Tom said. He wondered just how crazy this beautiful woman was and how safe he'd be with her.

“What do you call yourself?” She asked.

“If you know me as well as you say, then you should know my name,” Then he looked into her sad eyes. “Tom,” he whispered.

“I am Savannah.”

“Unusual name.”

“It's just a name my parents have given me this time. We've had many names, you and I.”

Tom's suspicions became alerted again as Savannah leaned heavily against him, her breast crushed against his bicep.

“I liked living in ancient Egypt best. How about you? Wasn't that your favorite life?"

"I don't recall any past lives. Though I find the Egyptian stuff ... interesting.”

“You do that because it's part of your past memories. If you think long enough, the past will come alive again for you. Then you will remember me. Hypnotic regression might also help.”

“Is that how you recall your past lives? Through hypnosis? You don’t do drugs, do you?”

Savannah shrugged. “Sometimes. It helps me to see all the details. After so much time has passed, everything gets fuzzy. Sometimes I get lives confused.” She laughed softly.

The sound of her gentle laughter pleased Tom. He seldom heard any laughter from June. They had little in common anymore. Savannah could be a pleasant diversion: overpowering with her "past lives" line, but he liked her looks very much. He was, however, worried about being caught with another woman. He didn't need a divorce right now. “What other eras have you lived in?”

“You mean, what other eras have we lived in, Tom.”

“Right.”

The band reassembled and Tom and Savannah talked through the next set. They left The Starlight Lounge after that. Tom left her apartment at 2:00 AM.

Tom began seeing her discretely at first, then his passions took control. He did not believe in her New Age mysticism, but she was right about the chemistry between them. Sex with June had never been this passionate. Then, after a month of increasingly less discrete meetings, Savannah began making demands of his time.

“I want us to live together.”

Tom couldn't do that easily. Nor did he want to. Savannah was a fling; June is a socialite with connections and power and money. Tom intended to keep all of his possessions, including June. Nor could he see himself spending years with someone who seriously believed that they had first met in ancient Egypt and their love was forbidden and cursed. Her views on life just didn't coincide with his. He hadn't thought of much beyond an affair with Savannah. And affairs always ended.

They were in her bed in the small, one-bedroom apartment she had decorated with all the Ancient Egypt replicas she could afford. Savannah had cooked an exotic meal with an unusual taste. The food wasn't as good as the lovemaking after.

“I can't. Got too many commitments." Tom always gave her vague answers. "I don't need a live-in lover in my life just yet.” He thought it better not to reveal much about himself to her. Though Savannah never asked for details or explanations, the look in her eyes told him that she knew of his deceit.

“I know that you are married,” Savannah said. “And that you don't love your wife. So get divorced. This time things will work out between us. You won't kill me this time.”

“Do what?!” Tom rolled toward her in the big bed.

“Kill me,” Savannah said. “That's how our lives together have always ended; you kill me. Then you kill yourself. When we are reborn, I have to search for you again.”

“Why would I kill you? If I don't want to see you, I'll just stop coming around. And I definitely do not intend to kill myself.”

“It's the curse. I find you, but our love cannot continue for long. You are cursed to murder me and then kill yourself. Forever.”

Tom licked his lips. Savannah was fast becoming a woman he would need to avoid. “Well, ... maybe we can change all that. How about I give you ten thousand dollars and you move to California with the rest of the New Age kooks and leave me alone.”

“I can't. Our fate was sealed centuries ago.”

“You're like a broken record with this past lives shit. I don't believe any of it.”

“I've noticed that in the past five or six lives you seem to be growing tired of me.”

Tom threw back the sheet and grabbed his pants off the carpet. “You're right about that.”

“But if something could be changed ... some action ... or a part of the sequence, then we would live in the love we have for each other in the next life.”

Tom yawned. It was well past midnight. “I don't love you, Savannah. It's been fun, but you know how it is. You'll have to find someone else to work your scam on. I'm walking through your door for the last time in a few minutes.”

“No,” Savannah said, firmly. Then she cocked the pistol.

Tom paused, one leg in his pants. He turned slowly toward Savannah . The muzzle was aimed directly at his heart.

“Well, Tom, the change I'm thinking about is ... that I am going to kill you this time. Usually you kill me, so by killing you I change the pattern.”

Tom realized that he could, if he moved quickly, grab the pistol before she pulled the trigger. “But if you believe in the curse, then you must also believe that I am the one to do the murdering.”

“But that doesn't change the pattern.”

“The pattern cannot be changed because of the curse. You said so yourself, Savannah.”

While Savannah pondered that though, Tom quickly reached out and grabbed the pistol. Savannah fought him, twisting the weapon from side to side to break his hold. Tom swung his legs up on the bed and pushed the gun away from him. In the struggle, the pistol fired. Savannah slumped against the headboard, a ragged dark red tear under her bare left breast.

As she died, a strange dizziness seized Tom. He felt himself being drawn into a whirlpool. All the times he had murdered her flooded into his mind. She had been telling the truth. Suddenly he saw the pyramids being constructed, saw himself being cursed, saw Savannah being mummified. Then, like a long movie reel unwinding, time sped by. He re-witnessed all the past lives and deaths. All of her blood that he'd shed through the centuries flowed from that small wound.

“I know you," He admitted to Savannah . The curse must be fulfilled again. Unable to control his movements, Tom held the pistol against his temple. He hoped that he would remember this moment in his next life. “Yes, I know you.”

End