Chapter 6
“She’s a friend from therapy,” he said for the fourth time, his tone terse, as his patience clearly waned.
“Well, you look very friendly eating out of one another’s hands.” The photos were everywhere and everyone wanted to know who was the mystery woman sharing an intimate moment with the famous rocker.
Thirty-six hundred miles away didn’t diminish the weight of her anger pressing down on him like a lead blanket, the kind dentists use as a precaution when snapping X-rays. In his mind’s eye, he could see the look on her face, that look, the one he knew so well, and he knew she was pressing next, next, next on her keyboard, scrutinizing the photos of him and Kylie in Starbucks.
After a solid minute of silence, he finally asked, “Are you still getting home next Thursday?”
Another silence followed, “I was thinking maybe I’d take a few extra days and join some of the girls in Formentera. One of their families has a ranch with bungalows on the beach right off of Platja de Migjorn.”
“Formentera?” It wasn’t really a question, just more of a surprise at her seemingly sudden decision to vacate to the quiet island off Spain’s coast. The models typically headed to Ibiza for the pulsating nightlife, not chilled-out Formentera.
The first thought that crossed his mind was, I’ll bet Nick has a place on Formentera, and that was followed by an immediate instinctual testosterone surge that rapidly cooled and dwindled, replaced by relief. Nah, I don’t want to beat the shit out of the guy. Take her. Just take her.
“Sounds like the perfect relaxing break.” He wasn’t quite sure whether he was talking to her or himself.
••••••
Looking at the picture brightening her phone screen as it accompanied the opening strains of Faith Hill’s “Mississippi Girl” ringtone, Kylie couldn’t help but smile.
“Sip,” Kylie greeted the caller.
“Gracie,” the heavily southern accented voice returned.
“What’s up?” Tossing herself down onto her couch, Kylie was thrilled to hear the voice of her old pageant circuit roommate, Hayley Taylor, the reigning Miss Mississippi, hence the nickname, Sip.
“You tell me. You seem to be having all the fun adventures these days.”
Kylie laughed. “I assume you’re talking about my little java rendezvous.”
“Heck yes. Give it up, Gracie.” Hayley’s nickname for the former Miss New Jersey referencing another Miss New Jersey, the diamond-in-the-rough movie character, Gracie Hart, from the Miss Congeniality movie franchise.
“Nothing to give up, Sip. He and I have an acquaintance in common and were just having coffee.” Kylie knew it wasn’t her place to reveal that the acquaintance was a psychiatrist and that Jesse was in therapy.
“Sugar, your voice is like an octave higher when you are lying or talking about your commitment to world peace,” Hayley chuckled. “When you’re ready to divulge this little secret, you know I’m here to listen. And I want every single detail about that hot, hot man.”
Kylie was smiling as she listened to her friend speak. DYE-vulj. Her classic southern accent and smoldering emerald eyes could charm the pants off any man or woman and the latter was a huge issue for her on the pageant circuit. Many a night Kylie would cover for her roommate and friend who was successfully seducing yet another sweet young thing.
“I know you are, Sip. And I appreciate it.”
“Seriously, Gracie,” her voice became soft, almost nurturing. “This is Jesse Winslow we’re talking about. Somehow I don’t imagine boyfriend material is part of his set list.”
“It’s not like that between us, really. It isn’t.” She wasn’t sure what it was, but it certainly wasn’t anything that had her fantasizing about a happily ever after. They were just two souls on a journey of discovery who no longer had to forge an uncharted, scary and potentially painful path alone.
“Are you seriously telling me that you’re not attracted to Jesse Winslow?”
Pausing to formulate a response denying any attraction, she wasn’t quick enough as Hayley jumped in.
“Hell, woman, I love pussy and even I’m attracted to him. Everything about that man exudes pure carnal energy. So, I don’t believe for a single second that you’re not attracted to him.”
Kylie just sighed. She couldn’t even begin to tell her friend the truth. How insane would all this sound?
“Gracie, you need to take a look at those pictures. The way the two of you are looking at each other, mmm…mmm…mmm hotter than an egg frying on a Texas pick-up truck in July. It’s like there’s no one else in the world. You have the look of absolute bliss on your face. What was he feeding you?”
“An éclair.”
“An éclair? Seriously, sugar? Our backwoods Starbucks don’t carry éclairs.”
“Ours don’t either. Jesse brought it for me from my favorite bakery in Paris.”
There was a snicker on the other end of the phone. “Paris? As in Paris, France? He brought you éclairs from Paris?”
“Yes. From my favorite bakery. It wasn’t éclairs. It was just one single, lone éclair. He ate the other one,” Kylie giggled.
“Did he know it was your favorite bakery?” Hayley was digging.
“I may have mentioned it.”
“May have mentioned it,” she laughed. “Claudine, your days are numbered, you stuck-up bitch.”
“Seriously, Sip, it’s not like that.”
“Gracie, turn on your PC and take a look at those pictures and the way you two are looking at each other. Every woman dreams of a man looking at her like that. And for you, it’s a man half the women on the planet have fantasized about.”
Hanging up the phone, Kylie grabbed her iPad and googled Jesse Winslow. Her screen immediately populated with hits.
“Jesse Takes a Bite”
“Rockers Prefer Redheads”
“Claudine Who?”
“Rocker and Mystery Woman Share a Moment”
“Jesse’s New Love”
The same four pictures appeared in all the articles. As Kylie studied them closely several things crossed her mind. I need to see Zac more often and work out harder because I look like a beast in profile and Hayley is right! Look at the way we are looking at each other.
There was no denying it. She and Jesse Winslow were sharing a connection. A very special connection. But it wasn’t the connection the rest of the world, including his very famous girlfriend, thought it was. But even Kylie couldn’t tell them exactly what their bond actually was.
••••••
“We were scheduled for a regression today,” Claire commented, perusing her notes.
“We’ll see,” the tone in Jesse’s response revealed a dark mood.
“Let’s talk about what has you out of sorts today.”
Unlacing his boots, the rocker kicked them off, lying down on the couch and pulling a throw pillow behind his neck.
“Lots of shit. Detoxing is hard. Staying sober is hard. I’m trying to substitute positive things for the destructive, but I’m on edge, my fuse feels short. People say shit to me and I just want to punch their faces in.”
With a pencil in her mouth, Claire absentmindedly ran it back and forth through her lips. “So, what are you doing to counteract all the aggression and negativity?”
Running his fingers slowly through the long dark spikes of hair, Jesse remained silent as he focused on a spot on the ceiling. Finally, “I’ve been working out like a motherfucker and I do it at the gym so that I’m getting my ass out of the apartment.”
“You don’t have a problem being stalked in the gym?” Claire was envisioning the gym packed with women in brightly colored, tight sports bras and yoga pants on the days Jesse worked out.
He laughed. “The owner has a gym within the gym set-up for people who need privacy. It’s card access only with the owner’s permission.”
“Well, that is certainly convenient,” her remark ended with a smirk.
“Yeah. It is. So, when I was in Paris with Claudine there was no connection there between us and I’m pretty sure there’s some guy in her life. I know making more changes in my life while in recovery is probably not the smartest thing I can do for myself,” his thought trailed off.
“Changes are triggers. We know that. But staying in a situation that is either negative or destructive is not healthy either. Is staying going to make it easier? How do your interactions with her leave you feeling?”
Snickering, Jesse shook his head, “Like shit. We’re both miserable.”
“Are you happier when she is not around?”
“Infinitely,” he didn’t miss a beat in responding. Chuckling, “Well, there’s my answer. You know what, Doc?” Turning his head, he looked at her. “I really think I’m okay this time. I’m not in some bullshit place in Malibu. I’m taking responsibility for myself, by myself. I’m writing. I’m working out. I haven’t missed a session with you.”
Just verbalizing his accomplishments lifted the funk that had walked through the door with him. “Ya know what, let’s try this thing.” And he reached over to the end table for the headphones and glasses.
Closing the shades and dimming the lights, Claire began her relaxation monologue, listening intently for the changes in Jesse’s breathing patterns. As they became deep and regulated, more so than she had seen in previous sessions, she began to ask him to focus on events in his childhood.
“Jesse, can you take me back to when you were three years old.” She paused and watched the expression on his face change. His brows drew together in a questioning line. “Where are you?”
“In the basement.” His voice was tentative.
“At your house?” Claire probed.
“Yes.”
“Are you alone?”
“No. Daddy is here with his band. They are practicing. The music is loud.”
“Do they know you are there, Jesse?”
Shaking his head, “Nope, I’m sitting on the stairs. They can’t see me from there. Daddy is really mad at Marco.”
“Who is Marco?”
“He plays bass. They are taking a break now. Daddy is still mad. I can smell smoke. They are all smoking.”
“Cigarettes?” Claire clarified.
“Yeah and a pipe, too. Marco is putting a lighter under a spoon. And Scotty, the drummer sounds mad, too.”
Holding her breath, Claire could feel the hairs on the back of her neck grow stiff. This three-year-old was about to watch a man shoot up.
“Icky. He’s getting a shot and he’s not even at the doctor’s office.”
“Tell me what you see, Jesse.” Maybe this would shed light on some of his demons.
“Marco has his head back on the couch. I think he’s going to take a nap. Scotty is slapping him. Telling him to wake up. Daddy’s trying to help but Marco is just shivering and shaking, except it’s not cold. His eyes are white and he’s turning red and now purple. Everyone is screaming. Mommy is running down the stairs. She sees me and is screaming my name. Now Daddy sees me. Daddy is yelling at her to get me out of there. He looks like he’s mad at me.” His face crumbles.
“What happened next, Jesse?” Claire makes note of his shallow, rapid breathing.
“Mommy is trying to pick me up but I’m holding onto the handrail. I’m scared. I don’t know what I did wrong to make Daddy so mad at me. I just wanted to hear the music. I love the music.” Pulling at his spiky bangs, his anxiety is manifesting physically.
“Go on, Jesse.”
“They are trying to carry Marco up the stairs, but I’m in the way. Daddy is yelling at me to move and I’m crying.” His face screws up in pain, “Oww,” as he grabs his right shoulder.
“Jesse, tell me what’s going on.” Claire’s voice remains calm, detached.
“He just picked me up and threw me to get me out of the way. I hit the wall.”
“Okay, I’m going to count to three now, Jesse. I want you to take a deep, cleansing breath with each count and at three you will be back here and present.”
Claire counted. At three, Jesse’s exhale emptied his lungs as he stared into her eyes.
“I had no conscious memory of that.” His voice was shaky. Putting his face in his hands, he shook his head. “At three years old, I watched a man overdose and die. Ironic, huh?”
“He died?”
Nodding, “Yeah and I’d always known that my Dad’s bass player overdosed. I just didn’t know that I was there watching it. I didn’t think that I remembered anything from that far back.”
“It was there. Just not a conscious memory.”
“Wow.” Jesse continued to shake his head as he absentmindedly kneaded his shoulder. Finally, he looked up at Claire and smiled. “Big breakthrough today.”
“Very big. You’ll find the process will accelerate quickly now.”
Patient: Jesse Winslow
Session: #36
Date: January 7, 2015
Regression: #7
Length: 10:15 A.M.–10:35 A.M.
Entity: Jesse Winslow (age 3)
Location: Basement of his childhood home
Year: 1991
••••••
Just leaving Dr. S’s. I had a memory, he texted as soon as he got down to the street. Meet me
Where? The response was almost immediate.
Are you familiar with L9?
I’m a member.
Excellent. Jesse typed with both thumbs. Meet me in an hour.
See you then.
••••••
“Hey Red, you’re not on my schedule today.” Zac was walking past as Kylie entered the vast rotunda of L9/NYC. It was almost impossible not to gasp every time you entered the iconic space with its mythological figures painted on the domed ceiling above the SkyTrack.
“Surprised to see me, huh, when I don’t have you cracking the whip.” Smiling at her trainer, the shock on his handsome face was almost comical.
“Understatement doesn’t begin to sum it up.”
“I’m meeting a friend,” Kylie explained, her eyes scanning the premises.
Zac followed her gaze, which had landed on two men, his father, the owner of the facility, and a very famous bad boy of rock ’n’ roll.
With eyebrows raised, he smiled at his client. “You are full of surprises today.” And then, “Have a great workout.” He patted her on the shoulder, leaving her to meet a client as she headed toward the two men.
Seeing her approach, Jesse acknowledged with a smile, causing the taller man to turn in her direction. Kylie was struck at the man’s resemblance to Zac, older and just as handsome, she immediately decided it must be his father.
“Kylie, you made it.” Jesse looked pleased.
The older man greeted her with a warm smile. “Hello. How are you today?”
“Hi. I’m great.” Kylie returned the greeting.
The man turned back to Jesse, handing him a keycard. “Same door as you used last time.” He motioned with his head to the far right.
“Thank you so much for this. It’s truly brilliant.” Jesse looked at the keycard.
“Let me know if you need anything else. You should find everything you require in there, but if you need any assistance at all, just pick up the house phone and we’ll take care of whatever it is.”
“Where are we going?” Kylie asked when the man left.
Leaning in to whisper in her ear, “To a secret gym within L9.”
“Seriously?” Kylie broke into a huge grin.
Nodding, “Seriously. Is that not the coolest thing?” Jesse steered her to the door and swiped the keycard.
Entering the private space, they gave one another conspiratorial looks like two kids who just hopped a fence and were going to explore the haunted house on the edge of town.
Motion sensor lights lit the space. Gasping, Kylie took it all in, “I want to move in here. This is like a gorgeous apartment.”
Retaining the tall ceilings and ornate moldings from its turn-of-the-century origins, the private gym had a living room area with couches, reclining chairs and tables, a large-screen TV mounted to the wall, sound system, fully equipped kitchen with breakfast bar and two VitaMix blenders for making smoothies, multi-stall and private bathrooms, massage room, sauna, steam room, hot tub and state-of-the-art exercise equipment.
“Perfect, isn’t it.” Jesse looked around, trying to take it all in from Kylie’s first-time perspective. “I just need to call ahead or book it for times I know we’ll want to use it.”
We’ll want to use it. Kylie’s heart skipped a beat.
“I’m sorry I bolted on you at Starbucks,” he began.
“I’m sorry that they got those photos of us.”
Smiling, “Well, redheaded mystery woman, you’ve definitely caused me some grief.”
Kylie’s eyes misted slightly at his words, not wanting to cause him pain. Ever.
“No. No, no. Don’t feel bad.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it, before leading her over to the couch.
“With your girlfriend?”
Nodding, “Yes, my girlfriend who is shacking up with some guy named Nick on an island off the coast of Spain.”
“I’m sorry, you must be upset.” Kylie was surprised the rocker was confiding in her.
“From an ego standpoint, I’m kinda pissed. But honestly, it’s a relief not to have her around. There’s a whole stress factor to everything about our relationship, from expectations we have of each other to the public’s expectations of us. And right now, I just need to worry about me getting clean and staying clean.”
Kylie nodded and Jesse went on. “Also, I’m a shitty boyfriend. Addicts and drunks are notoriously self-centered and self-absorbed.”
“Did you cheat a lot?” she asked, wanting to know everything and fearful of the blatant truth.
“Did I cheat a lot?” he repeated the question and looked Kylie straight in the eyes. “You are really direct and I like that.”
She held her breath waiting for him to answer what was now his question.
“I had a lot of sex with other people. I really didn’t consider it cheating, though.”
“Seriously?” she laughed, wondering what set of personalized rules he had created for his life.
“Seriously,” he was now chuckling. “Had I fallen in love with someone or even grown an attachment, then that would have felt like cheating, because my heart would have been involved.”
“So, sex to you is what?” She was trying hard to understand.
“Release,” he answered without giving it any thought.
Kylie nodded. Note to self: This is not a guy to get involved with in any serious way. Raise walls. Engage force field.
As if reading her mind, he began to explain. “Kylie,” he reached forward and took a long lock of her hair and let it run slowly through his fingers. This time, although she didn’t back away physically, she was emotionally preparing barriers. “Kylie, after a show I’m spent. I’ve expended all my energy, given everything I have to give. It’s a control thing for me when I’m up there. I not only have complete control over my own life, but also the surroundings and the energy and the people engaged in this magic with me. And that makes it very safe for me.” He laughed, “It is my circus. And they are my monkeys. It’s the only time in my life that I get to be the puppet master of all the variables. And I’m focused because it is my responsibility to deliver something that transcends just the here and now. And to create a moment that is alive with so much energy that it lives for a million years. Like light from the stars making its way to Earth. And that is my responsibility and usually I do a good job with it, because I really take it very seriously. But every so often, like in Australia, I fuck up. The pain becomes too great. And I’m lost and even the footlights can’t illuminate my way.” Stopping for a moment, he ran his hand through his spiky bangs. “When I walk off stage, I am done. And then the adrenaline leaves my bloodstream and I am totally depleted. Gone. So, when I sit down and someone hands me a cold beer and throws some lines on a mirror, I am kicking back and stepping out of myself. I’m kinda gone already. Next thing I know I’m inside someone’s mouth and looking at the top of their head. I close my eyes and I haven’t got a clue who I’ve been with. Half the time I don’t see a face.”
The rush of emotions momentarily overwhelmed Kylie, rendering her speechless. He wanted to make everyone happy, relieve them of their pain and transport them elsewhere. “But you’re clean now.”
“Yeah, and not on tour,” he paused, then laughed. “And celibate.”
The conflict in her mind, heart and soul began waging a fierce battle. Was he like no man she’d ever met before? Or were all men like this and he was just the first honest one? It was hard to tell, but this conversation had pulled her too far out of her comfort zone, making the real Kylie want to shrink deep within her outer shell. As he shared deep truths with her, retreat was her response instead of meeting him with some of her own. She needed to steer the course back to her comfort zone and away from any nook the raw truth might reside.
“Tell me what happened in your session.” Changing the subject quickly put her back on ground that was easier to navigate.
Jesse’s face lit up. His eyes wide. Putting his hand on his forehead, he began to shake his head. “I can’t believe it happened. It was a memory from when I was three. I’d totally repressed it because it was really freaking traumatic.”
“What happened?” Kylie leaned in. They were back on safe ground.
“I was three and I snuck down into the basement to watch my dad’s band practice. They didn’t know I was there and I watched his bass player shoot up and OD.”
“Holy crap. That’s horrible.” Kylie pictured this little boy trying to make sense of it all. “What happened to him?”
“He was convulsing and they took him out of there. And he died. The guy died.”
“That’s not something a three-year-old, or anyone for that matter, should see.” Horrified, Kylie wasn’t sure what to say, as her feelings were now turning protective. And her next thought was, it’s going to be impossible to protect myself from him.
“I was on the stairs and I wouldn’t leave. My dad literally picked me up and threw me against a wall. I thought he was mad at me. That somehow everything was my fault.” Jesse was visualizing the memory as his fingers absentmindedly slid up and down a lock of Kylie’s hair.
“I think it takes time to process it and figure it out and to understand how to apply it to how it’s impacted other things in your life.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I have no clue yet. Pretty ironic that I’ve had a substance abuse issue most of my life. I can only think that I was trying to hide from this, keep it repressed and music and writing have been my release and my savior.”
“I think the more you get to see, the picture builds and pieces fit and make sense.”
“Is yours making sense yet? Have you put any puzzle pieces together?” he probed as if Kylie held the key to unleash all his secrets.
She nodded, “Yeah, it’s definitely starting to. I had a really significant regression.” Pausing, she took a deep breath before being able to verbalize her fate. “I was going to tell you about it when we got made in Starbucks. I had just come from Claire’s and I was still reeling at that point.” She paused, and looking him straight in the eye, confessed her painful truth. “I starved to death in a past life.”
Jesse’s eyes widened as his head snapped sharply. “Really?”
Nodding, “Mmm-hmm. How’s that for telling.”
“That is crazy. How did it happen?”
“I was traveling across the Atlantic by ship, being sent to Louisiana to work in a silk factory. I became ill on the journey and other passengers were stealing my food rations and water.”
As Kylie shared her tale she could see the emotion in Jesse’s eyes, gathering like storm clouds on the horizon. “Where was your family? They couldn’t protect you from the thieves?”
Shaking her head, she looked down at her lap, “I was an orphan by then, so I was an easy target. I had been abducted. That’s how I ended up on the ship in the first place.”
“Abducted?” he repeated in a ghost of a whisper.
“I’d lost my last living relative. My brother.” Mon moitié. Kylie could feel the pressure at the back of her eyes as tears threatened and she thought they felt like the storm clouds bursting in Jesse’s eyes.
“Wow. The amount of detail you know.” He was entranced by her tale.
Nodding, Kylie searched for the words to share with him. “It’s not just what I can remember, it’s how heightened all my senses are of the memories.” Her nose twitched, as if just mentioning her senses overwhelmed the limbic portion of her brain with the horrible stench of sulphur and now it would forever be equated with death. Quickly pushing that away, she refocused. “And the feelings. Love, hatred, fear. I can feel them. They are so strong. How can I feel such deep love for someone I don’t know?”
“Was it a boyfriend or your husband?” Jesse’s hand stopped midway down the lock of Kylie’s hair that he absentmindedly continued to stroke as if running a strand of beads through his fingers.
“No. It was my brother. He took care of me. We’d lost the rest of our family, so it was just us.” Looking at the famous rocker, she continued. “My heart aches at the loss of him. This person I don’t know, who died like two hundred and sixty-five years ago. How could that be?”
“This is intense, Kylie. The fact that you now possess memories.” His hand dropped from her hair and he grasped her hand. “It’s like you never thought you’d see someone again and you just saw him.” Squeezing her hand, he was clearly trying to process it.
“But only a memory and I’m feeling pain from someone else’s memory. Not mine. It’s really overwhelming. I’m not sure how to deal with it.”
In a move that surprised them both, Jesse pulled Kylie into his chest, wrapping both arms around her. “Know you can call me, day or night, Toots. If you need to talk through it or the emotions are closing in on you. Text me. Call me. I know what I went through with unlocking my memory was overpowering, I can’t imagine yet what it is like to unlock someone else’s memory that is yours.”
Pulling her face off his chest to look at him, “If anyone heard this conversation, Jesse, they’d think we were nuts.”
Laughing, “Well, then we’d better pray Schooner doesn’t have hidden cameras with recorders in here.”
“Who?”
“Schooner Moore, the owner of L9 who you met earlier,” he explained, standing and reaching for her hand. “Treadmills?”
Kylie just nodded as she followed Jesse to the side-by-side treadmills. Outwardly, a silence accompanied them as they walked and jogged mile after mile. Inwardly, loud dialogues raged as they each sought answers to questions they were yet to formulate.
••••••
“There’s always the possibility that she was walking down that street in Paris and saw the plaque and it somehow stayed in her subconscious memory.”
Looking at Marshall, Claire shook her head in disagreement. She knew in her gut after watching and listening to Kylie recount her tale, and the detail in which she told it, that her patient was truly experiencing a past life memory.
“Marshall, unless she researched it–and then had no recollection of doing so–she was relating a memory. Let’s consider some of the historically accurate details. To know that Bicêtre was a prison as well as a hospital in 1749 or that the accuseds’ shirts were stuffed with sulphur or that they were executed at the Place de Grève versus the Place de la Concorde, which is much more famous because of Marie Antoinette’s execution, is pretty remarkable,” Claire plead her case.
“It is compelling. I’ll give you that.” The older psychiatrist acquiesced. “What bothers me here is that they weren’t just obscure people. There is a researchable history to the story. Have you been able to locate a Geneviève?”
Shaking her head. “Not yet, but I am working on it. I’m waiting to hear back from an archivist at Saint-Eustache.”
“It will be interesting to see what they come back with.” Moving on, Marshall flipped the page on his legal pad, a vestige of the past of which he couldn’t let go. “Any success with your star patient?”
With a telltale squirm in her seat, Claire tapped her iPad screen. “As a matter of fact, we’re actually making headway. We achieved a first full memory under hypnosis.”
“Oh?”
“I was able to successfully regress him back to a traumatic memory from when he was about three. And it was haunting and harrowing.”
“What happened?” Marshall encouraged her to continue.
“He saw a member of his father’s band shoot up and overdose in their basement.”
Looking up from his legal pad, Marshall’s trademark implacability disintegrated. “Did the man die?”
Nodding. Claire offered one word. “Yes.”
“Did his parents seek help for him?” Marshall was no longer looking at his pad.
“Sadly, no. And what makes it even worse, they never sat him down to explain it to him, so this three-year-old somehow thought his presence had been the culprit. That he was responsible for the man’s death. He had repressed the memory.”
“That is an unfortunate burden for a small child. Especially a sensitive one. So, he is actually punishing himself for this event through his own addiction.”
Claire nodded. “It would appear so.”
“Interesting.” Marshall flipped over the pages on his pad now that their session was nearing completion.
“Very,” Claire agreed. “My self-proclaimed narcissist is, in fact, an empath.”
“Not a surprise when you look at the lyrics he pens. Clearly the work of a highly sensitive person.”
How did I miss it? Claire wondered. Was I just buying the rock-star hype?
With a rare smile, Marshall’s gaze took on an almost amused look. “Now that he is successfully regressing, I look forward to seeing if he is able to access any pre-birth memory. Will there be any correlation to the magnitude of his personality and fame in this lifetime with past experiences? Or was he just a common man? I can’t wait to see what you uncover.”
Leaving Marshall’s office and stepping out onto upper Fifth Avenue, Claire stood for a moment looking out over the winter’s bare tree branches of Central Park. Something was bothering her about her supervisor’s last statement, “I can’t wait to see what you uncover.” But she couldn’t quite put her finger on the source of her discomfort.