MEETING MY SHADOW
MEETING MY SHADOW
BY JOHN TUFT
Justin turned seven that May. His parents threw him a big party in the back yard. Friends and family came, so many that it was hard to count them all. They played games and ate hot dogs and chips and birthday cake. Dad was assigned the job of photographer for the occasion. He tried to corral people into group shots but that proved difficult, so he resorted to candid shots whenever the spirit moved him. It was a grand day with everyone enjoying themselves and eating too much. The presents were perfect and a few days later Dad brought the pictures home so that they could relive the happy events.
There was a picture of all the decorations before the event got underway. One of the clown making some kids cry. Aunt Elsa trying to eat two hot dogs at once. Skippy the dog running off with one of the gifts. And one that held a mystery. Dad had pointed the camera at Justin as he ran through the back of the lot, near where the trees came right to the property line. Back in the shadows of the woods appeared the image of a woman. She looked to be in her 40s, dirty blonde hair, penetrating eyes and a small smile on her lips. Everyone was baffled. They did not recognize her, and no one remembered seeing her during the party.
Eleven years later, Justing graduated from high school. Naturally, it’s the occasion for a grand party indeed. Twenty newly released graduates took over the back yard for a celebration. Mom and Dad watched from inside the house as the newly minted adults reveled in their hoped-for freedom. Everyone had a cell phone out recording the celebration and giving each other heartfelt good wishes for the future. Later that night, Justin reviewed all the videos he’d recorded, wanting to continue the vibe. He suddenly hit pause and rewound a few seconds. There where the fence met the treeline stood a woman with dirty blonde hair and penetrating eyes and a small smile playing across her lips. The same one from his birthday party. She looked exactly the same.
Years later, Justin is in New York. He’d just turned thirty and is out on the town celebrating his new promotion. His new friends from Wall Street are buying him drinks and giving him a hard time about making more money now. Jokes are loud and bawdy, plans are extravagant and hopes for only more good things ring loud and clear. A young woman approaches Justin, clearly interested in getting to know this up-and-coming titan of finance. He smiles at her. But then his eyes fall upon the window at the front of the bar. There’s the woman. She looks exactly the same. In her 40s, dirty blonde hair, penetrating eyes and a small smile playing across her lips. Justin runs to the door and pulls it open, runs out onto the sidewalk. It is empty.
Justin is sitting on a bench in a rail station. He is in his mid-40s now. He is waiting for the train to take him back home. His father died yesterday. His elbows are on his knees as he studies the floor, trying to wrap his head around the tremendous loss he is feeling. Dad retired after forty years of running the small furniture store. He had reveled in his son’s success, urged him to find a good woman and settle down, start a family. When Justin’s mother died, Dad kept going as best he could. Justin knew that his dad was lonely and a bit lost, but his work in high finance kept him so busy. The few times that he did get back, he felt restless and distracted, spending a lot of his time on the phone.
Justin felt someone sit down on the bench beside him. It annoyed him and looked up with a sharp remark on the tip of his tongue. It was her. The woman. Looking exactly as she always looked. Her penetrating eyes held his. “I’ve been waiting,” she said. Justin simply stared. Was he hallucinating, he wondered. Finally, he managed, “Who are you?” The small smile broadened. “I’m Hope.” Justin kept staring. “What do you want?” She sighed. “I’m to be with you. We’re a new story.”
“New story?” asked Justin. Hope smiled and touched his arm. “Do you believe in soulmates?” Justin shook his head. Hope kept her hand on his arm. “Do you believe in shadows?” “Everyone has a shadow,” he said, a bit brusquely. “Yes, yes they do. And sometimes, shadows have a life of their own.” Hope looked pensive. “While we sleep, our shadow can roam. And sometimes, when it roams, it finds other shadows roaming in the night. When the shadows recognize each other, its because they are soulmates.” She looked at him expectantly. Justin cringed. Hope continued on, “Those times you thought you saw me, it was my shadow. Seeking its soulmate.”
Justin sighed. “So, you’re saying that we’re soulmates.” Hope nodded. “That’s why you kept seeing me. I wasn’t really there. My shadow had found you long before and was trying to get us together.” Justin studied her face, trying to resist the sense of being drawn to her. “Why now?” Hope lived up to her name when she replied, “Why not now?” She continued, “Every relationship is a story. But now, we get to write the rest of it. Together.” Justin thought about it. “So, it’s up to us now whether we write the story together.” Hope smiled. She held out her hand as the train pulled in. “What do you say?”
Words are magic and writers are wizards.
