11 comments/ 25407 views/ 17 favorites Love Heals By: Solitary_Thinker I sat up slowly, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I let the cool air of the night wash over my naked sweat-covered skin. My breathing was labored, and I looked resolutely out the dark widow to the twinkling street lights below. I could feel her movements through the mattress before her feet swung into existence next to me, and she slid up to sit beside me. Close to me, but not touching, an awkward distance already between us. I didn't want to look at her; I felt the pain already growing in my heart, as I knew it would. Her voice was soft, barely a whisper then, "We'll be alright then?" Such a simple question, and so heartfelt, and yet it cut me, pounding on my already inflamed heart. Unable to trust my voice I just nodded and continued to stare out the window, as if I expected to find the answers there. She fidgeted beside me, and I knew it was time to go. I rose slowly and walked to the chair where I had carefully laid out my clothes. I dressed with my back to her, taking my time, listening to the bubbling of the fish tank across the room, and the dry rattle of the air conditioner. "Thank you Brian. I...I'm sorry. If things had been different I could have loved you." Her voice was filled with pity, and with empathy. I turned and looked at her now, as I knew I would. She was a beautiful woman, her skin tan and slightly flushed. Her large breasts hung down in beautiful curves to meet the rising swell of her large belly where her daughter slept, growing. I could feel the love in my heart for her, the love I had so carefully cultivated that now pierced me. I nodded and tried to smile, a fake smile like a theater mask but it was all I could do. I turned and walked through the cluttered apartment letting myself out, and walking the long flights of stairs down to the street. The night air was fragrant with the smell of the blooming spring trees, and the sounds of frogs chirped somewhere nearby. The apartments were on the edge of town, threatening the remaining wetlands that lay nearby, but it filled the air with that wonderful smell of green growing things. A car door opened in front of me and I saw Michael, illuminated in the harsh glare of the dome light. His face was pained, a mix of restraint, fear, and anxiety. He rose from his car, and walked toward me at an even pace until he stood facing me. For a few seconds I thought he would say nothing, or that he might strike me, it had happened before with others. But instead he held out his hand to me, and when I took it, his grip was firm but not overpowering. Then he was gone, rushing toward the building leaving only the faint smell of sweat and cologne that was his particular scent. My heart ached again as I wished it was I that was ascending those stairs to the woman above. I wished the child growing in her womb was mine, and not his. Once I had such a woman, but my gift, my curse, would not allow it to last. All the relationships never lasted, eventually I just stopped trying. I looked up at the dark heavens and cursed god for the thousandth time in my life; cursed the universe in its majesty and frailty. 'God damn this place, this life.' I thought. Then like so many other nights I walked to my car, and drove to my empty home to pick up the gun again, to contemplate my pain and if it was worth it to go on. Like so many other nights I wasn't sure what my answer would be. ************************************** 1 month earlier... Damn I was tired. I should have been in bed hours ago really, but like so many other nights I sat in front of my computer clicking through the endless miles of cyber trash looking for something. The question that inevitably comes up, is what am I looking for? To be honest I am not really quite sure anymore. At first I thought I might find a cure, or a way to control my problem. Then I thought maybe I would find community, others like me or with similar problems. But I soon realized that there was no one else like me, and that every other person I met was a fraud, or insane, or worse. So over time it just became a search. I figured I would know what I was looking for when I found it. I often felt like Neo from the original Matrix movie, driven to find something he couldn't quite put his finger on. The websites I frequented were those for enthusiasts for paranormal events, psychic powers, UFO sightings and abductions, magic, and all manner of fringe new age crap. Frankly after ten years of looking at it, I had become convinced that there was no hope for me, that I was meant to be alone in all ways. The small icon in the lower corner of my screen suddenly turned blue informing me of the arrival of new email. A few clicks brought it up, and I read through the short mail. It was a referral from a woman I had helped several years ago. They were usually easier then the ones I stumbled upon, for often they really didn't need my help. Sometimes though, they did. She wanted to meet me tomorrow. I hesitated, thinking of the consequences, wanting for the thousandth time to just hide away from the world. Then I drew a deep breath and set up a meeting at a small but crowded coffee shop a few blocks from my home. It was a place I used frequently. It allowed me to see and be near the person without them seeing me. Often it allowed me to learn what I needed to know, and avoid talking to them if it wasn't necessary. Her response was swift; popping up in a few minutes confirming the meeting. I could almost picture her sitting at her computer late at night. I am sure the woman I helped had told her all the gory details, and I wondered what devastation my aid might cause in her life. I rubbed my eyes, my head heavy. 'Why fucking me?' I thought for the millionth time in my life. ************************************* It was hot for early June as I walked the couple of blocks to the coffee shop. It was one of the small neighborhood ones that had survived the Starbucks assimilation. Not that it had stopped Starbucks from building one right across the street from them, but all the locals refused to abandon the local shop. It was called The Espresso Bum. I don't know how they came up with the name, but the owner, Mike and his wife Julie, ran the place and kept their customers as much through their personalities as through their good coffee. I slipped in the side door taking my usual table in the corner. No one ever sat at it since it was wedged in a nook by the side door, and had only one chair. I loved it. Julie saw me and smiled and gave me a nod. Mike and Julie were the only friends who knew about what I did, and they still cared for me. I had helped her sister. I hoped she never needed my help. I sat and watched the crowd for a few minutes until Julie came over and put a mug of plain black coffee on the table for me. I smiled at her mustering as much sincerity for her as I could. "New one today?" she asked cleaning her hands on her apron. "Yes, maybe" I said and she nodded. "Well if you need anything..." she let the sentence trail off and I nodded; my fake smile still firmly in place. She placed her hand on my shoulder for a moment before moving away. The place was very busy as it almost always was, but I spotted her the minute she came in. She was too thin, and even with the nice wig I could see the ravages the Chemo had left on her body. She looked around the room, her eyes passing over me without slowing. I had always been one of those people others didn't notice. Most of the time when people met me here they would buy a coffee, then sit watching the front door. This one was so nervous though she just sat at the nearest table, and stared at the front door. I often wondered what they expected I should look like, since they always seemed sure I was not here yet. Of course they usually showed up early, as she had, not counting on me to be here. I rose then, draining my coffee and made for the restrooms, making sure to pass behind her by a few feet. I wove through the crowed tables and only slowing slightly as I walked behind her. It hit me immediately. I have tried to describe the sensation many times, but I find it is like trying to describe the flow of water. Mutable and changing, and hard to understand if you don't see and feel it. Nonetheless, I will try again. It is like a combination of vertigo, nausea, and the extreme heightened awareness you get of things when you are in a life threatening situation. So in other words, it is like you feel in a car crash. Well, at least that is the initial feeling, sometimes I think it is just to get my attention. Then comes the understanding. It isn't clinical, or diagnostic, or graphic, it just is. Suddenly I know, and there is no doubt, what is wrong with the person that triggered this response in me. The only people who trigger it for that matter, are ones who are very sick, deathly ill in fact. I almost staggered as I walked by her, but too many years of this feeling had trained me to not be betrayed by it. She had Breast cancer, and it had metastasized. There were tumors in her liver, and in her lungs. But what she didn't know was that she was winning the war. She would survive through the chemo or whatever other regimens the doctors had her on. I don't know how I knew, but I did. I used the restroom and headed for the door giving Julie the thumbs up. She smiled and headed over to the woman's table. We had arranged this many years ago; she would tell her I had seen her, and that I would email her. I headed home to tell her that she didn't need my help. ****************************************** The next day I thought I would walk across the street to the Albertsons and pick up some milk, and some dinner. The evening was beautiful, warm but not hot, and fragrant as spring was starting to come on. I was feeling lighthearted for a change since the woman in the coffee shop yesterday was not going to need my help. In fact I felt like I had been let off on probation instead of having to go to jail. I wandered through the aisles, looking for something to appeal to me for dinner, and as usual ended up at the deli looking at the food I didn't have to cook. I stood there lost in thought, contemplating roast beef or pastrami on my sandwich when it hit me. It is always bad when I don't expect it. I stood and held my breath for a moment as the sensation passed and the knowledge came. She had walked up beside me and I heard her voice just as the knowledge of her impending death washed over me. I turned to look at her as she asked the clerk behind the counter for a pound of organic cheese. She was tall for a woman at probably close to 6 feet, and wearing running shorts. Her legs were tone and muscled, and very tan. Her breasts were large and full in her tank top, but the most prominent feature on her was the swelling of her pregnant belly that was just starting to show. I knew I would see that, for in this instance the feeling had told me. Both of them would die, god how cruel. I could see the beautiful ring on her finger from here. I could almost envision her husband at home excited about the birth of his little girl. As always the doubts and the feelings of self loathing raged through me. Every time I wanted to retreat, to run away, to not face the pain again, yet every time I did. This time was no different. There were times that I had been unable to help, but that was early on when I had just learned a little of my fate. I didn't fully understand how it worked, and what was required of me. I do now, though that doesn't make it easier. The next step was always the hardest, and the most dangerous. I have not been attacked or even caused a disturbance in a long time. Experience is the best teacher, and after more than ten years of this I had found what works and what doesn't. I began to follow her around the store, at a distance and very discretely. She did not notice me pass her aisle or get in line behind her at the checkout counter. I watched her covertly as she paid for her groceries. After she paid I pretended to have forgotten something and left the back of the line, leaving my cart to follow her out of the store. She walked to her car, and I called to her once she was getting ready to get in. I made sure I was on the other side of the car. I had learned this barrier and separation made people feel safer. "Excuse me Ms.?" I said my voice steady over my pounding heart. She looked up, unafraid, but guarded as we all are of strangers these days. I walked to the edge of her car. "I am sorry to bother you, but I need to tell you something important." I said slowly and carefully. Her eyes narrowed a bit now. I know this look, many think I am about to solicit for them to buy something, or ask for money. I charge ahead to avoid being cut off. "I am an intuitive. You are gravely ill, and it puts you and your baby at risk. You need to go to the doctor immediately and have your blood checked. It could kill you both. " Her face registers shock, then anger. "How dare you try to frighten me, who do you think you are?" Her voice is rising. "Just someone trying to help, that's all. I'm very sorry." I take a card from my pocket and deposit it under her wiper and walk away. She looks as if she is going to yell at me, but decides better of it and gets in the car. I hear the engine start and she drives away. I hope the card flies off her windshield, that she doesn't email me. The card is blank except for an anonymous email address, my email address. But they always write me. They always check into what I tell them. Always, and I am never wrong. I think it is the fear that lives in all of us, that we are mortal, and that death waits crouching behind the next corner for all of us. I have talked in the past to others I have helped, and they said that when I told them they were sick, they didn't want to believe me, but some part of them knew they were. We underestimate the power of our minds and our bodies. Most of them try to ignore the warning for a few days, but eventually it begins to nag at them. They have the long arguments with themselves about how silly it would be to go to the doctor because some nut told them they had colon cancer, or leukemia. But eventually they all go, that fear of the reaper overcoming their fear of being made a fool of. Later, they will email me, full of questions and fear. The pattern has become regular for me, like the swing of the pendulum as I lie on the torture table of my life. *********************************************** I spent the next couple of days at home; waiting for the email I knew would come. It finally arrived on the fifth day and read much like many before it. How did you know? Jill I sat staring at the screen for a few moments before I began to type my reply. I sometimes wondered if I should write a stock answer and save it for these first replies, but I had always felt that was not fair. For me this was the hundredth time I had done this, but for this lady it was her first. By slowing down and writing each person I felt it somehow humanized our interaction. Jill, When I was younger I learned that I had a gift, or a curse depending on your point of view. I am an intuitive healer. When I pass closely to those who are gravely ill I can sense what is wrong. I feel it is my duty to tell them. I am so sorry for your troubles and your pain. I wish you all the luck with your treatment. If I can help in any way please don't hesitate to contact me. Brian I hit the send button and waited, but no reply came that night. I had found it was better to let them explore all the medical options surrounding their condition and to realize there was nothing that modern medicine could do for them. Often then, they would write me again. I always used the word healer in my first email to them, and they remembered it. Funny that when faced with death even someone as crazy as a person who calls themselves an intuitive healer can appeal to us. ******************************************** I spent the next few days working on my next book, and trying to prepare myself for what would come next. There really was no way to prepare of course, what this really means is I spent more time at the coffee shop staring out the window moodily with my laptop in front of me. I guess I should mention that I don't really have to work to support myself. I write romance novels, and have been successful enough at it that I could never write again and I would have enough money to retire and live comfortably in my small condo. When you have had your heart broken as often as I have I guess it gives you a unique ability to share the joy of love found, and the pain of its loss. The Bum was a good place for me to hang out at times like this. Julie and Mike understood what I was going through, and they would give me some small comfort of friendship. Also, the wireless network allowed me to work, keep tabs on my email, or continue my search through the labyrinth of the internet for an answer to the meaning of my life. A week later while I was still waiting to hear from Jill I stood to go to the restroom in the Bum, and passed behind a table with a young mother and her two daughters. The feeling hit me so hard that this time I did stumble. Julie and Mike looked up at me with concern before I shook my head at them and stumbled the final few steps to the bathroom. I shut and locked the door before sliding down it to sit against on the floor. The pain rose up through me then and I began to sob. Not the clean tears of grief one feels at loss, but the great wracking sobs of pain that come from unending torture and duty. A pain that permeates through the entire being of a person so that when it explodes out it shakes them like a small tree in a hurricane. One of the woman's daughters had bone cancer. She had looked to be about eleven or twelve, and she would be dead in six months. There was nothing anyone could do for her, not even me. I had tried to help a child in the early days, before I fully understood, but I could not do it. I am no pedophile, and no matter how hard I tried I could not love her in that way. I grew to love her as a parent might, but never as a lover, and without that connection, I knew I could not help her. I had gone through the same pain with men as well. I felt their impending death, but I was powerless to help them. I did try, again when I was younger. I thought I could force it, but I was not capable of loving a man in that way. I loved them as friends, as brothers, even as fellow human beings, but not as a lovers. Can you imagine the pain of seeing a father with his family and knowing he will die and there is nothing you can do to help him. Knowing that within you resides the power to help, but not the ability. Well in six months time the little girl out there would be gone and that beautiful mother would be plunged into despair so deep she will feel she can never climb out of it again, and I was powerless to help her. So I sat on the floor of that bathroom and sobbed. I sobbed like a child without comfort, like a mother who has lost her child, or a man who knows he will die and leave his family behind. I sobbed for all the people I had helped and not helped. I cried out to god to take this burden from me, but the only answer I received from him was the knowledge of the little girl dying not ten feet from me. The door handle jiggled and I jumped. I dragged myself to my feet, splashed some cold water on my face and dried it with one of the brown scratchy paper towels. My eyes were swollen and red, and my body still trembled as I turned and headed out the door. I passed the family again as I made a beeline for my stuff. I began jamming papers and computer into my bag as quickly as I could. Love Heals As I slung my bag over my shoulder I looked up and Julie and Mike were watching me intently from behind the counter. Julie wore a pained expression on her face as she pointed to the woman with her two kids. I shook my head no and I saw the realization dawn on her. "The Kids?" she mouthed and I nodded the tears beginning to spill down my face again. Julie covered her mouth, a look of tender sadness on her face. I almost ran for the door, holding myself in check only through force of will. As I passed through the door a small pale woman with short cut black hair and a pixyish face was walking up the sidewalk to enter the Bum. I looked down at the sidewalk as I passed her and the sensation hit me. It had never been so strong. It drove me to one knee and made me pant for breath. There was no sensation of one thing being wrong, just an overwhelming sense of sickness. I heard the woman stop beside me. "Are you okay? Do you need help?" Her voice was anxious, but not hysterical. I shook my head no and stumbled to my feet and began to run. I couldn't take anymore. I ran all the way home, stumbling into my condo and bolting the door as if it could keep out my pain. I stumbled into the office, opened the bottom drawer of my desk and pulled out the 357 magnum I had inherited from my father. For the thousandth time I opened it, checked that it was fully loaded, closed it and stared at it. Every time I went through this ritual the longer I stood there holding that weapon; this time when I put it back in the drawer with reservation, and a shaking hand. *********************************************** Later I found an email from Jill waiting for me. It was short and to the point, as many of the ones I received was. I sat and stared at it for a long time. The next steps were always tricky, always painful. I read through her message again. Brian, I don't know how you knew I was sick, but you were right. I have been diagnosed with a terminal form of brain cancer. The doctors want to try chemo and radiation, but it is likely they will be ineffective against this type of cancer. In fact they say it is 98% fatal. If I even try the chemo it will kill my baby, and I won't live long enough to see her born even if I don't undergo treatment. My husband and I are faced with our lives ending together before they even got started. You said you were a healer, and you knew I was sick. It seems crazy to me to even ask, but can you help me? Jill I sat with my hands poised above the keys, the words that I must say tumbling through my mind. When I began to type it almost felt like someone else was writing. I watched the words scroll across the screen and realized I was weeping again as I wrote. Jill, I know you will find this hard to believe, but yes I can help you, in fact I can cure you completely. Unfortunately the price is very high for both of us. I am not speaking of money, but of deeper more painful sacrifices. If you wish me to help you, you first must meet with three people who I have helped. They will explain to you what they went through, and prove to you that I can help you. If at that point you wish to walk away, I understand. If after you meet with them you still wish my help, then you should email me and we can arrange to meet. The only payment I ask of you should we get to the point where I help you, is that if I ever ask you to meet with a new patient of mine to explain how I helped you, that you will do so, and that you keep my help a secret. Brian Her email response can back fifteen minutes later. It said simply; "Tell me when and where and I will be there..." ********************************** I set up the meeting for a few days later after calling three people who had helped me with new clients in the past. All of them were good people, and understood the sacrifices I had to make to help others. All of them could almost be called friends if it was not so painful for me to be around them. They agreed to meet with Jill and her husband and explain things to them, to help them understand the implications of my curse. Jill would agree; they always did. Only once had someone chosen death over my help, and she was a rather special case. I was not surprised at all when she chose for her life to end. I had been rather cloistered since my experience at the Bum a few days ago. The little girl and the woman outside had been too much for me. I had ordered food in, and spent time calling and arranging the meeting of Jill with the others I had helped. I found my mind drifting back to the woman outside the Bum that had staggered me with the degree of illness radiating from her body. It was not how sick she was that intrigued me, but the fact that my gift had not told me exactly what was wrong with her. That had never happened before. Every other time in my life when the sensation came over me I had an intuitive understanding of exactly what was killing the person. In her case though I was simply overwhelmed by the strength of the sickness I felt in her, and the fact that it seemed to have no locus. In addition, I had no idea how long she had to live. Normally I knew to within a week or a few days at times. I was puzzled. Finally after a few days of the boredom and isolation in my house, and on the eve of Jill's meeting I decided to make a trip down to see Julie and Mike. I walked down in the early evening, after the end of day rush, but before the nighttime college kids moved in. The place was nearly empty when I came in and Julie rushed around the counter to give me a hug, and Mike clapped me on the back. "Brian, are you okay? We have been worried about you. We were gonna come by but..." Julie's face was scrunched up in concern, and her husband Mike nodded in agreement behind her. "It's okay; I'm fine guys, just got a little overwhelmed. There was the little girl, then I ran into that woman outside and she was...is sick..." I shook my head and looked down fighting the emotions that threatened to well up again. "Hey it's okay, we understand. You know that woman from outside asked about you. In fact when I told her I didn't know who you were she asked everyone in the place if they knew you. She kinda creeped me and Mike out." I felt a tingle of something go up my back, perhaps fear. "What did she want?" I asked "We don't know." Mikes deep baritone rumbled out. "She said she just wanted to talk to you. She has been back in the store twice more, bought a cup of coffee, looked around and left." I stood there thinking for a minute. She was sick, she probably needed my help. Maybe she had heard about me and was trying to track me down. It wouldn't be the first time it had happened that way. I reached in my pocket and took out one of my blank cards handing it to Julie. "If she comes in again, give her this, okay? She is very sick, might be she was one of the rumor folks who comes looking for me. Anyway, no sense in running away if she is determined to find me." "You sure Brian?" Julie asked concern in her voice. I nodded and smiled, putting the mask back in place. ********************************************* The next day I waited at home. Jill was to meet with the others in the morning, and I wanted to be around if she emailed me. I always got nervous on the day that these meetings happened. I had, in the early times, had a few that went very wrong. Time is a great teacher, and I knew now how to have the people that met with a new person approach the whole thing. I spent some time surfing my usual hangouts, and then going for a short run when my anxiety and cabin fever reached a level where I just had to do something. It was a short 3 mile run, but the spring green and the chill in the air made me feel invigorated and alive. When I came back into my apartment dripping with sweat, my tee shirt clinging to my back I had an email waiting for me. I grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and gulped a large mouthful down as I plopped into my chair in front of my computer. I could feel my shirt sticking to my back, and the chill of the air conditioner blowing on me. The email was from Jill. When people responded after the meeting with my advocates I found they usually fell into a couple categories. The first was skepticism, with a hint of aggression. The second was complete disbelief. The third was the easiest, that of acceptance. Fortunately Jill seemed to be the last. Brian, My husband and I met with the others you have helped this morning. All of them told us their stories. I saw copies of doctor's reports, medical charts, x-rays, and printouts of cat scans. They were all dying; they made sure to prove that without a doubt. Gina, the doctor, even deciphered the materials for me and Sean so we could understand it all. All three of them were dying, now they are all perfectly well. I guess you have to start there, convincing us that you can really help us. I want you to know I knew you could from the minute I went to the doctor and he told me what you already knew; that I had brain cancer, that I would die, and that my child would never live. I am a trusting person by nature, and a spiritual one. I accept that there are more things under heaven and earth then we can understand, or even believe. My husband and I believe that you can help us. We understand that you will tell us the method. None of the people in the group would tell me how you heal, but they wanted it understood that you could, and that you had helped all of them the same way. I understand it may be something unpleasant, and I don't care. I want to live. I want my baby to live. Tell us when to meet you, and we will be there. Jill I took a deep breath as I finished the letter. It never got easier, knowing what came next. I sat for a moment letting my mind churn; letting the knowledge that I had to do it all again sink in. Mostly I sat thinking of the recovery time, of the despair, and the loneliness. I acknowledged it all, accepted it, and reached out to respond to Jill's email. *********************************************** I met her the next day at a small out of the way park in town. I had asked her to come alone. I told her that her husband could come and watch from the car to make sure she was okay, but I must speak to her alone. I did this as a precaution to my safety. In the early days I had encountered some dangerous boyfriends and husbands, and had learned it was better for the woman to pass the news on to them. I sat a t a table in the shade, my car parked on the road only twenty feet behind me. I saw Jill when she pulled into the parking area for the park I had given her directions too. It was 150 feet across a green lawn. I always met here if I could, gave me time to observe the person as they approached me, and gave me a buffer between them and me if I felt that I needed to leave in a hurry. You may think I am paranoid, but you would do the same if you had seen some of the reactions I had over the years. It never ceases to amaze me that I can help people so much, but that to do so exacts such a high toll. It has caused me to loose my faith in gods and religion. It has made me a cynical man I hate to say. Jill got out of her car and I was relieved to see she was alone. It spoke to a level of trust that usually made this meeting go smoother. She turned and shaded her eyes looking across the park. I rose and waved to her, and she waved back and began to walk toward me. She carried herself with grace, and walked at an even pace as she approached me. She did not wring her hands, or look at the ground, or glance around nervously. In fact she looked right at me as she walked steadily across the bright green grass to meet me. I remained standing behind the picnic table, keeping it as a barrier between us. This too I had learned helped them feel more safe. She wore a long brown dress of the kind popular with ex-hippies, or women who were into a natural lifestyle. It was attractive on her, and her belly was only a small rise in the front under her large breasts. This one would be both easier and harder I thought. She walked all the way up to the edge of the table before stopping and looking at me. We stood for a moment looking at one another. The tension was less then in some meetings, but still present. Just as I was about to speak, she broke the silence. "Brian?" her voice was soft, quiet, and gentle. I simply nodded. She then did something that I had not encountered before. She walked around the table, and hugged me. There was no hesitation in her actions, no falseness, just a gentle hug that she held for a moment before pulling away from me. I have to admit I was so surprised that I just stood there through the whole thing. When she pulled back she smiled slightly, a beautiful smile, and said. "Brian, thank you for meeting with me. I'm...I'm so scared." She said her eyes shinning now a little. I nodded. "Don't be afraid. I promise you I won't hurt you, and I only want to help." She barked out a small laugh. "I'm not scared of you, I'm scared of the damn cancer in my head." She said with a sad grin. I nodded again smiling now. "Sorry, I misunderstood." She waved her hand as if dismissing it as nothing and sat on the bench. I sat next to her, both of us on the same side, again a first for this type of meeting for me. She sat waiting then, quietly, looking at me intently, but not with the level of intensity I had seen from some. I realized there would be no small talk now, that she was waiting for me to explain things to her. "Jill, first let me say how sorry I am that you are sick. I know I can help you, but as I said before the price is high for us both. I don't want to sound like I am all doom and gloom, but in my experience I have found it is better not to sugarcoat things. This will be hard. If at any time you wish to walk away from me, this meeting, or any interaction with me know I completely understand." She nodded her face now thoughtful. Then she spoke cutting me off. "You have to sleep with me don't you?" her voice was quiet, thoughtful. She could not have shaken me more if she had thrown a bucket full of live mice on me. I sat there with my mouth opening and closing trying to find the words to speak. "I...I...yes but...I need to explain..." I said stumbling over own surprise. I was used to being the one to orchestrate these meetings, to giving the information out in a structured way that prepared the person I was to help for the news. Then with it came the understanding of what the real cost was too. Jill reached out and placed her warm hand on my arm and smiled slightly. "Brian, it is okay. I put it together for myself. All the people who met with me were woman. They wouldn't answer me how you worked, and my intuition put it together. I'm not surprised. I am a massage therapist Brian, and I do Reiki on my clients. I have read about sexual healing, and after meeting with the others I believe you are legitimate." I shook my head and rubbed the back of my neck. This was by far the strangest meeting yet, but she still didn't understand. I tried to gather my thoughts. "Jill, yes I have to sleep with you to heal you, but there is more to it then that. I..." My voice broke and I felt the emotion rising up in me and overwhelm me for a moment. "Hey, it is okay." Jill squeezed my arm. "I can tell this clearly bothers you, but I talked about it with my husband, and we both agree that me having sex with someone else is clearly better then death. Sure he doesn't like the idea, but he prefers it to me and his child being gone. We would be grateful for your help." I shook my head no as she finished speaking. "You don't understand Jill. If I just sleep with you, it won't work. I...I have to love you for it to work." I said now looking up into her kind face. She sat for a moment as what I said sank in. "You mean you have to make love to me?" she said quietly? I shook my head no. "No Jill, I have to be in love with you. I suppose that means I have to make love to you too, but my emotional connection to you is what will allow me to heal you. I have been through this so many times, it is always hard to explain but please let me try." Jill nodded her head, her face now concerned. "When I was young I began to be able to tell when people were sick. Not like a common cold, but sick as in gravely ill. I could sense in them this terrible truth, and slowly I began to have faith in it. I started telling people to go get help, just like I did with you. But I didn't know what I was doing, I made a lot of people angry, I got beat up a few times. But I was troubled. You see I could tell, I knew, which ones would recover from treatment, and which would not. I knew which people would die no matter what. Can you imagine what a terrible knowledge that was to have, and to feel powerless about it?" "Oh Brian, how horrible." Jill said in a whisper. I rushed on, unable to stem the tide of my speech. "Eventually I stopped telling people that couldn't be helped. I figured let them live in peace while they still could. The others I told to go get help. It was a few years before I learned that I could help, and it was by chance really. A had a friend through my work that I was close to who got breast cancer. I met her for lunch one day, and I knew she was going to die. She went to the doctor, and they wanted to do chemo, radiation, the works. Nothing worked. Eventually she ended up at home in the care of hospice. I came to visit her every day, we grew very close. I grew to love her, and it broke my heart to see her in pain. One night, she asked me to make love to her. She was close to the end, more skeleton then flesh at that point, but love sees past such things. I made love to her. We caressed each other for a long time before we did it. As I made love to her I could feel something strange happening with my sense of her illness. You see, even now near you I can sense the sickness in you, I can feel its progression. In a sense I can feel you dying. That night as I made love to her I could feel the illness retreating, but only slightly within her. I admit I did not think of it much at the time other then to rejoice in the feeling of that small retreat." Tears were running down my face now as I spoke. I didn't know why I was sharing this most intimate of stories with this woman, but somehow her candor and trust had pushed aside my barriers for a moment. "When she came, with her climax came my own I felt something truly remarkable. Well, more remarkable then just an orgasm shared with someone you love. I felt, as my cum entered her, the disease vanish from her body as though it were removed with an invisible hand. I felt, for the first time in months, no sign of the disease. I felt life flooding into her." Jill squeezed my arm as I let out a great sob trying to continue, my voice temporarily lost to emotion. "She was well. The doctors couldn't believe it. Miracle they all said. But my lover had felt the healing take hold in her when we made love. I had told her about my ability to sense when someone was ill, she was the one to put two and two together that I could heal as well." I lowered my head as the tears fell to the bench below. "She encouraged me to help others; she said she was strong enough that it wouldn't hurt her. I slept with another woman who had breast cancer that was her friend. It didn't work. It is a long story but in time we came to realize I had to love the person I slept with for the healing to work. I healed her friend, and she left me. It was too painful for her, and for me" "No relationship for me lasts, how can it? I must love, and be alone over and over again in this life. That is my gift and my curse. I don't know why I am the way I am, I only know I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try to help people. " Love Heals "Oh god Brian, I am so sorry." Jill said in a whisper. I looked up at her through my tears and tried to smile. Her own face glistened with tears. "So Jill, you must understand that for me to help you I must love you. Love in many ways is a voluntary choice. I need not love you as deeply as your husband, but I must find something to love about you, and to make it worse it must be romantic love, not the love of a friend. I have learned this over time as well. This is why I can't help men or children. I tried with men, but could never even try with children. This is why there is such a cost for me to help you. I must give you my heart knowing that as soon as you are healed that you will be gone. Then I will suffer alone, through the pain again. I will do this for the next woman too, and the next, until I can stand it no longer." My tears had stopped as I spoke these last words and I looked up at the beautiful woman in front of me. Her face was pained, and her hand warm on my arm. I could feel the cancer inside her head eating away at her. My heart already ached for her, such a kind soul. It would not be hard to fall in love with her, but it would hurt all the more then afterwards. As I said to myself earlier, easier and harder with this one. "What do I have to do?" Jill asked. I began to speak and my voice took on the sing song quality of someone repeating something they have said many times before. I did not look her in the eye as I spoke. "I will need to spend some time with you, alone. A few days, a few weeks, a month, whatever it takes for me to fall in love with you. You should try to encourage that in whatever way you can. You need not be in love with me for it to work. We need have no physical contact until I feel the connection with you, though I find that some amount of snuggling, or touching or kissing speeds up the process. However, this is not necessary if you are not comfortable with it. Most women with husbands or partners are not. You will at all times set the boundaries of what kind of intimacy we have. After you are healed I may ask you to meet with someone else to help them understand how I helped you. This makes this painful process easier for me to go through because you will pave the way, as the ones who met with you did. Some people choose to do this more then once, that is up to you. I ask that you keep all of our interactions and my gift a secret. If you have someone you think I can help, you can contact me by email, and I will arrange to be near them to see if they need my help. Oh, and one last thing. You must explain all this to your husband. I have nearly been killed by jealous men in the past, and I don't wish to repeat that experience. Do you have any questions?" As I finished, I looked up into her face. There were fresh tears streaking down her face and she looked pained. She leaned forward and threw her arms around me and hugged me fiercely. I could feel the wetness of her cheek against my neck. I hugged her back this time with a need I could not contain. For long moments she held me, and when I felt her arms loosen I reluctantly let go of my hold on her and she pulled back to look me in the face once more. She took both my hands in hers as she spoke to me. "You poor beautiful man. Thank you for helping me, thank you for all the women you have helped. I am so sorry that I can't love you and try to be the one to endure this with you. I love my husband, I want my life with him, but I promise you I will do everything in my power to try to make this easier for you. I'm so sorry for your pain, for the pain I will have to cause you to live, but I want to live Brian, I so want to live." I nodded and in her face I could see she spoke truly. I could see my pain reflected in her eyes at my dilemma, and it made me begin to love her right there on that bench. We talked some more, and she said she would email after she had spoken with her husband. ******************************************* The drive home from Jill's was the worst I had ever experienced. She was true to her word to try to share with me the burden of this gift. I had spent a week with her at her home while her husband stayed at a friend's. She was affectionate, kind, gentle, and even passionate. We had sex the first night I was there, and every night after. I told her I was not ready and she took me to bed anyway. She showed me more kindness and compassion then any woman I have helped. At the end of the week, when I made love to her and I felt the healing pour into her I found myself torn like I was so many times before, but with an intensity that was crippling. I was overjoyed that this person I loved was healed, that they would live. But I was also in the depths of despair knowing that they would pass out of my life. Jill had told me she could love me, she said this as consolation, but it only made the pain worse. Many of the women I helped were not ones I would choose to have a relationship with. They are not people I would want to love. But as I told Jill in our meeting, love is often a matter of choice. You can choose to open you heart to someone, to find in them something to love. Sometimes this is easy, the people match you in spirit and interests, other times they may only fulfill one deep need in you. I had become an expert at loving. At giving myself over to it in the face of the destruction I knew would follow. Jill had been easy to fall in love with, such a kind and generous soul she was. When I stumbled into my home that night I walked straight to my desk, and pulled the revolver from the locked bottom drawer. I placed it on the desk as I had so many times before. The same arguments as always raced through my mind. "I had a great gift, how many lives had I saved? How many families had not lost a mother, or a sister? Could I throw it all away from my own selfish pain? But how much was any man to endure? What was the limit to the load we are supposed to suffer under in this life?" I picked up the gun, the light shinning on the oil of the barrel, the jet black metal reflecting the overhead lights. I pulled the hammer back, watching the smooth operation of the machine in my hand with detachment. At that moment my computer chimed in front of me, the signal that I had received mail. It was a trivial thing, a sound I had heard a thousand times, but at that moment it was like cold water in my face. I reached out and set the gun down, the hammer still cocked. My hand brushed the mouse, my movements more from habit then desire. Hello. I got your email address from the woman at the coffee shop. I have been looking for you for a long time. Can we meet? Please? Sasha I sat rereading the mail several times as my numb mind tried to engage. Another woman who needed my help. Then I remembered the sick woman outside the Bum, the one with no specifics about her illness. I looked down at the gun above the keyboard tray. Slowly I picked it up, un-cocked the hammer and replaced it in the drawer. Sasha, Why do you want to meet me? How do you know about me? Brian I typed the email slowly, rechecking it twice before sending it. I stood to go to the kitchen to grab a drink, the adrenalin from my evening and my subsequent meltdown had left me shaky and drained. I had barely made it across the room when the new mail chime sounded on the computer again. I finished pouring myself a large glass of ice tea before heading back to my desk. On the way I took long deep draughts of the cold tea. My mind was slowly beginning to come back online as the tea settled in my stomach. I looked at the email; it was a reply from Sasha. She must be online right now. Brian, As I said I have been looking for you for a long time. I have searched the internet, natural healing blogs and magazines, paranormal sites, health and new age fairs, temples, shrines, and anything else I could think of to find you. At least I think to find you. I want to meet you because if you are what I think you are, maybe we can help each other. I mean you no harm. I only want to meet you. Please. Sasha A tingling started at the base of my spine and moved up my back making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This was not the usual drill. This woman seemed to be aware of what I was, and she was holding all the cards. I reviewed what I knew about her. She was sick, that much I knew, though how badly remained a mystery. This in itself intrigued, puzzled and worried me all at once. I had never not known what was wrong with someone. Perhaps this woman had an illness that was as mysterious as my ability to heal. Perhaps her illness was spiritual, or something that her only chance for healing would have to come from someone like me. In the past I probably would not have agree to meet this woman at all. The situation was too strange, and the interaction too atypical. You see one of my great fears would be that one day my curse would be made public, and in addition to having to go through what I do to help, I would also be barraged with many more requests for help then I could ever deal with. Still, I was at a low like none I had ever felt. I figured that if this was a trap, or someone out to do me harm then perhaps I would even welcome that. Maybe it would be the meeting that would finally make me put that gun to my head and pull the trigger. I wrote Sasha back, asked her where she wanted to meet. She said she was staying in a trailer she towed behind her truck in a RV pack outside of town. She gave me directions, a phone number for a cell phone, and a time for the next day. I printed the email out, and then went to my room to fall into a dark and troubled sleep. *********************************************** I had driven by the RV park a thousand times probably over the course of my life, but had never really paid any attention to it. For one, I didn't own an RV, and second who pays attention to places that travelers use when they are in their home town. It was a nice park really, shaded by a number of giant cottonwood trees, and with enough spacing between the parking hook-ups that there was a small amount of privacy. It was the off season this early in the spring, and the park was not crowded. I found a green pickup truck parked in front of a small silver Airstream trailer in the spot number she had indicated. I pulled up parking my car, and saw a curtain drop back into place in the trailer. I got out walking to the door and smelled the scent of incense on the air coming through the open window on the trailer. The door opened before I even reached it, and I stood looking at the woman I had passed on the street outside the Bum. I could feel the sickness in her as I had before, but this time I allowed myself to look at her. She was small, maybe four eleven or so, and very slender. She wore a long tye-died sundress over her small frame. She had large breasts for her size, and the faint outlines of her nipples could be seen through the thin material. Though her figure was attractive, it was her face that was truly beautiful. Her skin was very white and smooth without a blemish. She looked to be in her late twenties. Her eyes were the palest of blue over a cute button nose and a small mouth now smiling one of those soul revealing smiles that lights up a person's face. Her hair was black, and cut to frame her pretty face. Through the open door I could hear the sounds of the Grateful Dead softly playing in the background. When she spoke, her voice was soft and deeper then one would expect from such a small person. "Hello Brian, thanks for coming. Would you come in? It is small, but you can take the chair, I'll sit on the bed." She backed into the trailer as she spoke and I followed her in. "Sure, sounds fine." I said It was small, but very cozy. A small built-in chair was beside a table that folded out from the wall right across from the bed. I walked over and sat down, Sasha closing the door behind me and taking two steps to bounce onto the bed. I realized I felt both at home with her, and very uneasy. The tingling in my spine was back, stronger then before. She situated herself on the bed and looked at me, her smile dropping from her face. When she wasn't smiling she was still quite beautiful, but it was as though the sun had gone behind a cloud. I found myself wanting her to smile again, and wanting to make her smile. Instead my inane practicality won out when I spoke. "Sasha I am sorry to be blunt, but why am I here?" I asked with raised eyebrows. She studied me intently for a moment, and when she spoke her voice was barely over a whisper. "Brian, can you heal people?" After she spoke she stared at me with such intensity I found I could not tear my eyes away from her. She sat completely unmoving, as if her entire being waited for my answer. Then, as if against my will I answered her, and I felt that the only thing I could offer was the truth. "Yes. Though not people really, only adult women. Though it is not that simple..." I said and she began to smile again. It was as though a fire had been kindled in her, and the heat and radiance of it shown through her face. It both alarmed me and captivated me. "You have to love them." She said this with a firm voice, as a statement, not a question. I found myself floored, much as I had been with Jill a week ago. I sat with my mouth hanging open, and only managed a brief nod of affirmation. Her smile beamed at me, and then she began to speak in her low melodious voice. "When I was 14 I got my period for the first time. After that, whenever I passed near someone I could feel if they were sick, but only if they were gravely sick. It drove me crazy. I tried to kill myself twice before I turned 18, but apparently it is really hard for me to die." I could feel a tremendous power of emotion building up in me. As she spoke inside me something took fire, and began to grow like light in the darkness. "When I was at college I still wanted to die, so I started going steady with a boy who had AIDS. He didn't know he had it, and I had unprotected sex with him a lot. I never caught it though. Eventually through his kindness, I came to love him. Then one night when we made love I took his sickness into me." The room was shifting under me. My lungs felt tight, the air sweet and rich. I wanted to yell, to take her in my arms and swing her around in joy. She could understand, in fact she did understand. "He got well. I got sick but it passed with time. In time I came to realize that if I loved a man, and made love to him I could take his disease from him. It never kills me, though I am sick all the time now. I thought that if I did it enough it might kill me, but instead I just live on with the sickness. That doesn't bother me though. What bothers me is..." "Being alone." I said cutting her off. She looked at me with that same radiance in her face and nodded. "Yes Brian, being alone. That is why you are here; I'm tired of being alone. Aren't you?" she said in a whisper. I stood then and took her in my arms in a fierce hug, unable to stop myself from being propelled forward by the force of my emotions. She embraced me back with an unexpected strength for such a small body. I pulled back to look into those pale blue eyes again, so that I might see that radiant smile. Instead I was met by her warm lips pressing against mine with a hunger and passion I felt reflected in my own heart. I kissed her back, the fire of emotion in me blazing against my chest, the need for connection overwhelming the strictures of society and practicality. She pulled me toward her as she lay slowly back on the bed. I followed her descent down with my own body, still kissing her full red lips, looking into her open ice blue eyes. Every ounce of my soul cried out to this woman, to this soul who alone could understand me, who alone carried the same burden I carried. As I kissed her she pulled my shirt un-tucked from my trousers, and yanked it over my head. Her slim soft hands caressed my back sent chills of pleasure through me as I probed her sweet mouth with my tongue, her own dancing across mine. My hand found her firm breasts through her dress and her nipples were hard through the thin material. I pulled at her dress and she lifted her hips to wiggle it up her legs and then her torso, and finally over her head. We broke our kiss for only a moment as she pulled it off. Her naked body was beautiful and pale, and her skin as soft as silk. I pulled my mouth from hers to take one of her large hard nipples in my mouth. She moaned and arched her back pushing her breast to my hot mouth. Her hands worked at my belt and pants, releasing them and pushing them and my boxers down with urgency. My hard cock sprang forth bouncing with the beat of my heart, the tip coated with a thick stream of pre-cum. I worked my pants down and off, letting them pull my loafers off with them. Her small hand circled my large cock, stroking it gently as I sucked first one nipple then the other. Her low moans of pleasure were like a song to my ears. Every fiber of my being wanted this woman. Every part of me needed to be with her, to keep her close, to have her always around to share my pain and loneliness with. My desire for her body was nothing compared for my desire for her heart and soul. I slid down her body kissing her belly and pierced belly button. Her pussy was shaved, and her large pussy lips stood out glistening wet and swollen from her own need. I took them in my mouth with no teasing, so intense was my desire. I sucked her lips into my mouth and gently flicked my tongue back and forth across her swollen lips directly above her hidden clitoris. Her hips bucked and swayed as I sucked her, and I could hear her panting for breath. She grabbed my hips and pulled my cock towards her face. I slid around not taking my mouth off her pussy so that I could straddle her face. She took my cock in her mouth with the same abandon that I had taken her pussy into mine. The pleasure of her hot mouth on me made my cock twitch and jump with the intensity of the sensation. We stayed locked in this embrace of pleasure for long minutes each of us near to release. At last I could take no more, and I tore myself free and turned to mount her, and once again look into her pale shining eyes. For a moment I paused, nestled between her legs looking into those eyes, my cock resting against the heat of her sex. Her eyes shown with tears, and I realized mine too were filling with the joy of this meeting. Gently I lowered myself onto her, and as our mouths met for a long kiss my hard cock slid slowly into her swollen pussy. I could feel the exhale of pleasure into my mouth from her as I sunk into her. We began to move together then; a slow and passionate lovemaking that seemed to go on and on. Our bodies grew sweaty and slid on one another as our passion and pleasure grew. We kept our eyes open and fixed looking deeply into the others. It was as though I could see the years of pain of my life reflected in her eyes, and in the understanding of each other both of us were healed. Finally, we both began to shutter and shake as our climaxes approached. It was not a physical climax only that we rode, but a spiritual and emotional one as well. Years of life spent in loneliness, in desperation, and in need dissolved away. I felt the rush of my climax race through my body as the first jet of my cum shot into her, and I felt her tremble and moan into my mouth as I kissed her in her release. Wave after wave of pleasure rocked us both. I felt every ache and pain in my body vanish, I felt energy and vitality through every limb of me. Then, in my mind I felt the sickness in her retreat and vanish as I had felt it banished so many times before. Tears spilled down my face to mingle with hers, and as our bodies slowly stilled, I heard the deep silence around me. Love Heals The tape had ended and the trailer was quiet except for our rapid breathing. Outside I could here the leaves of the cottonwoods rustling, and the distant sounds of frogs singing. Slowly I raised myself up on my elbows, still deeply buried in my lover's warmth to look into her face. Her face was no longer pale, but flushed and pink with health. Her blue eyes shown from the tears that matched my own, and the smile was as radiant as the sun. I wanted to tell her everything about my life. I wanted to share with her even the tiniest details of my strengths and weaknesses. I wanted to transcend all the boundaries life placed between two people with this woman. But I am only a man, and she is only a woman. In the end I just lay my head on her chest, and let her caress my face and run her fingers through my hair. For once, I did not have to go home.