I came up out of the water, sputtering and struggling against the waves that were pushing me around. "Damn," I thought. "That was a rough ride." There had been a stiff breeze the last few days, and the waves were bigger than usual, so I was out body surfing. It was one of my favorite things to do since childhood. It never got old. My wife and I lived on the beach, and I had grown up here, on the Gulf of Mexico, so I felt safe even in the rough water. But that last wave had beat me up.
I wasn't sure how I had got to shore, because the last thing I remembered was being tugged on by the undertow and struggling to get back in a little closer to the beach. I must have got picked up by a wave and pushed to shore. One moment I was trying to catch a wave, and the next moment I was being washed up on the sand; and I couldn't remember anything in between.
As I came up to my feet, shaking the sand and water out of my hair and straightening my swim trunks, I became a little embarrassed This stretch of beach was my back yard. My friends and neighbors were here. I glanced around sheepishly to see who was watching me take that tumble. At first I was happy to see that no one was paying any attention to me at all. But that was because everyone was running toward something that was happening just down the beach. It was obvious that someone had been pulled from the water. I started running towards the scene, thinking maybe I could administer CPR. But as I got closer I could see one of our neighbors was already doing it.
There was a large crowd, and I was trying to get close enough to see who it was. But before I got there, I saw my wife, Karen, leaning over the body, sobbing hysterically. Our friends were trying, unsuccessfully, to pull her off.
Now, Karen is a very emotional person. She tends to suffer with everyone she cares about; and she cares about everyone. But still, I was curious who she had this depth of feeling for. She was really beside herself. I had never seen her like this. I tried to work my way through the crowd to get to her, so I could comfort her. But before I got there I caught a glimpse of the poor soul washed up on the beach; and my blood froze. It was me, and I was beyond help.
Time stood still for a moment as I stared at my lifeless body lying there in the sand. I tried to process what I was seeing, but I just couldn't. If that was me, who was I? I looked down at myself for the first time and was astonished at what I saw. My body was at least twenty years younger, and much fitter than the overweight, out of shape middle aged guy lying on the beach. "Jesus," I thought. "I had no business being out in that water."
I just stood there for a moment: deaf, dumb and stupid. I couldn't wrap my brain around it. Karen believed in reincarnation, but I rejected the notion out of hand. I was an engineer and really only believed in things I could see or come to by logic. Reincarnation was neither. But here I was. I would have to re-think my spiritual beliefs altogether.
But who was I? I needed a mirror. I looked down at my arms and legs and -- oh, my god -- my belly was flat. I had six pack abs. My arms and legs were muscular. I was in better shape than when I was at my youthful, gym-rat best. I discretely flexed my muscles just to see how it felt. It felt awesome. But I didn't recognize the body. I didn't have long to think about it. The lifeguards showed up, breaking me out of my stupor, with the sheriff's deputies right behind. The crowd began to disperse, to make way for the EMT's.
I panicked a little. I didn't understand what was happening. I didn't know who I was. I didn't know where I belonged. One thing I did know, though, was that I couldn't go to Karen. Every fiber of my being wanted to hold her and tell her everything was OK. But I couldn't. How could I explain what I didn't understand? And even if I did, how would she feel about some young man approaching her just after her husband died? A little smile came over me. I was a young man. I flexed a little again. And as I did, I felt a little tug on my arm.
"Are you OK Tom?" It was one of Karen's friends, Judy. I knew her, but not well.
"Huh?" I responded stupidly. And then thought "Tom? Who's Tom?"
"Are you OK?" she asked again. "You seem a little shaken."
"Yeah," I said as I struggled to pull my thoughts together. "That last wave rolled me pretty hard."
"Well, come over and sit with us for a while," she said, pointing to where she and her husband were camped out under a giant umbrella.
"Umm, thanks Judy, but I don't feel well. I think I'll just head back up to the apartment for a while." Karen and I lived in a nice apartment complex on the beach. Judy lived in the same complex. And since she knew me -- or Tom, rather -- I figured Tom lived here, too. And I was betting that Judy knew which apartment.
"I do feel pretty shaken. Would you mind walking me up?" I patted myself on the back a little for my cleverness. A small, sly smile formed on her lips. I thought I saw her eyes widening under her sunglasses. "Sure," she said. "Maybe I should hold your arm to keep you steady." And with that, she practically wrapped herself around my arm, called to her husband that she'd be right back, and led the way. We ended up in a third floor apartment with a view of the ocean. "Sweet," I thought. This apartment was nicer than mine.
"Would you like me to stay a while? Make sure you're OK? Would you like a drink?" she asked as she headed for the kitchen. It didn't escape me that she knew where everything was. And before I had a chance to answer she was back in the living room with two martinis, kicking off her shoes and plopping on the couch right next to me.
"Are you OK, baby?" she asked. "You don't seem like yourself."
Baby? I wondered. Were we lovers? I didn't want to be having an affair with Judy. I liked her husband and suddenly felt awful for him.
"Thanks, but I think I need to rest now," I said, as I gently lifted her from the couch and steered her toward the door.
"Ok," she said. "Call me."
"OK," I said in my best sing-song voice, as I eased the door closed behind her. Of course I would never call her. I didn't even know her number, but it was a pretty safe bet that Tom did.
I wondered, for a moment, which other wives in the neighborhood Tom was screwing around with. But I didn't dwell on it. It never occurred to me in that moment to even wonder If my wife was one of them.
As soon as the door was shut I raced to the bathroom, so I could look in the mirror. Nothing. I didn't recognize the face I was looking at. It was a nice face. Strong features, clean shaven. Nice. I looked like a nice guy. But one that I didn't know. Yet there was something slightly familiar about that face. I felt that maybe I had seen it, but I couldn't think where. I guessed he was new to the complex and I had just seen him at the mailbox or something. Or maybe at the beach.
Didn't matter. I started snooping around the apartment to find out who Tom was. Who I am now. It didn't take long. Since he had been at the beach, his wallet, phone, keys, everything were still in his apartment. The car key was for a Jeep. Was that the new yellow Wrangler that was parked on this side of the complex? I rummaged through his closet and drawers. He had good taste. His furniture was nice, too. It seemed like Tom had a pretty nice life. Well, until he died, anyway. I thought I might not mind being him for a while. Except, as him, I couldn't be with Karen.
I wanted desperately to be with Karen, but I couldn't figure out how. What would it look like if a young, single man on the other side of the complex came calling just hours after her husband died? What would I say if I did go to her?
My head hurt, and I laid on the couch to take a nap.
I jolted awake when the sliding glass door in the apartment below me slammed shut. Sitting up groggily rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I was trying to focus a thought that was forming in the back of my mind. I noticed Tom's phone on the coffee table in front of me. That's it! I could get into his phone. I have his face and fingerprints. No sooner had the thought formed than I snatched his phone off the coffee table and unlocked it. God bless face recognition software.
There were several unread text messages, so I went there first. I felt kind of creepy about doing it. I was very keen on privacy. I had never been through Karen's phone. Or her drawers, for that much. If she had secrets, I had no idea what they were. Nor did I want to know. But this was a different story. This was necessary. I took a deep breath and clicked on the text messages.
Most of the unread messages were from someone named KK. "That's funny, I thought. Those are Karen's initials." What a coincidence. The texts were flirtatious, but I couldn't tell if they were having an affair or just teasing. One thing I did notice was there were no texts to Judy, so that little seduction routine of hers was just wishful thinking.
I dug a little deeper in the texts, and a clearer picture emerged. Tom had a bad crush on KK, whoever she was. But KK was obviously married and not willing to cheat. It seemed like she probably lived in the complex with us. Maybe there would be a picture of her. I clicked on the photos app, and for the second time today the earth stopped spinning. The photos that jumped onto the screen were obviously KK. My KK. Karen. My heart sank into my stomach. Karen and I were so happy. I couldn't believe she was having an affair.
I looked through more pictures. Tom had several of her on the beach. She was wearing different bikinis, so it wasn't just one afternoon. But I noticed there were no selfies. Karen takes a lot of selfies, and the fact there were none on his phone was all the proof I needed that she wasn't having an affair with him. I looked back at the texts. There was definitely a lot of flirtation, but it was mostly on his part. He was obviously crazy about her, but she was only guilty of accepting his attention and not pushing back.
I sank into the couch, wondering where I had gone wrong. What had I missed? I loved Karen, and I knew she loved me, Why was she carrying on with this young man -- our new neighbor? Was it a harmless dalliance, or something more? I needed to know, and now that I knew Karen and I -- well, Karen and Tom -- were friends, I decided to walk Tom over there and pay her a visit. I was in luck. She was outside, puttering absently in her herb garden.
