Chapter 1 - A Parallel Dimension?

Working In The Twilight Zone



Chapter One: A Parallel Dimension, or...?





         Jeff Ambrose felt just like he had the first day he walked into his high school to start classes. "New kid on the block. Don't know anyone, or where anything is," he laughed softly as the elevator rose floor by floor. "Only this time it's my career that's on the line." The elevator stopped on the 15th floor.

         "Six years studying architecture, and I'm starting at the bottom," the 25-year-old thought silently as he searched the suite numbers for 1543. He found it at the end of the long hallway. "Still, it is a well-known firm, even if it is a bit small, his mind continued silently as he reached the door. "Martin, Martin and Burnstein," he recited quietly as he opened the door. The girl at the desk behind the little "Receptionist" sign immediately caught his eye.

         "Oh, God," he thought quietly as he walked up to her desk. Six years of architecture schooling had kept him from thinking about Annie, his high school sweetheart; now, here she was, sitting right in front of him. "Oh, God," he muttered quietly again.

         "May I help you?" she asked.

         "Um... yes. My name's... Jeff Ambrose. I... start here today as an assistant." He'd found it hard to finish that last sentence. "It's Annie's face, and hair, but not her voice," he said, the shock just beginning to settle down. "What the...?"

         That one only took a second. A hellish second.

         "Yes, Mr. Ambrose. We're expecting you. Please have a seat for just a moment."

         "Um... sure," Jeff said numbly. "Um... would you mind if I asked you your name?"

         "Not at all," she said, blushing a little. "It's Annabelle. But I just tell people to call me Annie."

         "Oh, Lord," he silently stammered, then cautioned himself to keep his composure. He couldn't afford to "fall apart" the first day on the job. "I'm Jeff," he managed to say, extending his hand.

         "Nice to meet you, Jeff," she smiled.

         Jeff fumbled his way to the nearest chair in the waiting room and fell into it, his mind shooting back to June 24, 1993 . "No, not that night," his heart was saying. "Let's start from the beginning... let's at least get some warm feelings of love out of this tangled mess of memory, pain and emotion." He heard himself silently consent: "Okay, okay." His mind took over as he relived it all.



         September, 1992. First week of school. Annie and I had been dating for a year by then, and already decided we were seriously in love and wanted to get married after college.

         Our parents gave us the typical reaction at first: "It's a crush. You'll get over it," or "How can you be so sure, at your age?" I found that frustrating, especially since Annie and I had known each other since we were ten. But, as time passed, our parents saw us going only with each other, with no interest whatsoever in dating others. Their generation called it "going steady". We just knew it was right for us. Period. It only took about four to five months before both sets of parents realized how serious we were. Hers even said they admired our knowledge of what we wanted at such a young age, and our determination for working toward those goals.

         But soon the nightmare began. The nausea, vommiting and headaches. CT Scan showed nothing in her head that looked abnormal. But the symptoms continued. The doctor's prescriptions seemed to lessen the frequency or intensity of them, but nothing would stop them.

         By December, Anita's skin had started to go pale, she noticed she was more tired than in the past, and she'd started bleeding, but it wasn't time for that yet that month. Her parents took out a second mortgage and took her to the Mayo Clinic for a thorough evaluation. I cut school and went with them. Much to my surprise, my parents understood my need to do that. I think they knew I couldn't concentrate in school until I knew the whole story on Annie.

         Diagnosis? Viral infection, but nothing they could identify. Some new strain. And it had now reached her liver. They gave her six to eight months to live at the most. They gave her parents prescriptions for the strongest possible antibiotics known, and, for later, the strongest pain killers known, saying not to use those until absolutely necessary.

         As we drove home from the clinic, that 3-day trip gave us plenty of time to think, reflect, and decide what was important. Important to us. Our love was priority one for me. I'd made up my mind. And nothing was going to stop me now. I'd reach my goal, or die trying. I literally had nothing left to lose. I was already losing the only thing in my life that truly mattered, so I had no reason to hold back.

         A week after we got back, Anita and I were sitting in my Pontiac Bonneville on our town's version of "Lover's Lane". We'd always come here for our first date each month once we knew our love was permanent. And I wanted to keep that permanence. "Anita?" I asked as we sat, looking up at the stars on a cold, January night, huddled together in the front seat, her head on my shoulder.

         "What, darling?"

         "Look at me, honey."

         "What, sweetheart?" she asked as she looked deeply into my eyes with those deep blue pools that were hers.

         "I want to know that we succeeded in our love before... be... fore..."

         "The end comes?" she finished, obviously getting as emotional as I had already become.

         "Yes, honey. I just couldn't say it."

         "I know, darling. I'm the one that really has to be able to come to terms with it, you know."

         "No, honey, we both do," I jumped in. "Because you are my life, too. That's why I want to know we succeeded before that happens."

         "What are you getting at, Jeff? Our love is already a wonderful success, dearest."

         "Marry me, Anita," I blurted before I lost my courage. She sat bolt upright and stared at me wide-eyed. She started to say something but I couldn't let her. I had to finish while I had the words I needed: "If we can get our parents to understand, and I think they might already, marry me. I want us to make it to the altar before the end. I love you!"

         "Oh, my God!" Anita screamed. "Your serious, aren't you?" she wailed, stalling for time and trying to take it all in and deal with the flood of tears in her eyes, all at the same time.

         "Marry me, darling!" I said again, shouting just a little to make sure she heard me through her numbness. Desperate for an answer, I quickly added, "We were planning to anyway, honey. I just want to move the date up a little." I cracked a smile. "Like... about 5 years?"

         "Why... why would you... want to do that to yourself, honey? I won't be around long after the honeymoon. If we can even afford one."

         "I want it because I want you. As my wife," I said without hesitation. "I want the wedding, the honeymoon, and you in my bed. I want it all. That's what I want. All because I love you. Marry me, Anita."

         "God," she said quickly. "Jeff, we don't even know what will happen to me toward the end. Will my mind go? Will I be a different person? We don't know. Are you sure you want to take all that on yourself?"

         "Darling, if we were out of college already, and married ten years and you just got this thing it would be the same situation. We still wouldn't know the end, would we?"

         "No, we wouldn't," she slowly admitted.

         "And, the vows we've talked about say 'in sickness and in health,' right?"

         "Right."

         "Then marry me, Anita. Give us as much time as a married couple that we can possibly have. Let's prove to everyone how right we were - for each other, and about our decision to marry in the first place. Marry me, Anita."

         After what felt like an eternity of seconds, she smiled widely, hugged me with all she had and said with a river of love and determination in her voice, "Okay, my love. Let's tie that knot so tight they'll have to cut us apart!"

         "I LOVE YOU, ANNIE!" I shouted. I wanted the world to know.

         "I love you, too, you courageous, wonderful, devoted guy!"

         When my parents asked me if I really wanted to marry a dying girl, I said simply, and calmly, "It's my Annie." They saw my calm demeanor, they said, and knew I meant it. They said they'd sign. Dad even said he'd call the courthouse, explain the situation and see if anything could be done to cut through the waiting period that's mandatory for kids our age.

         Annie's parents couldn't believe that my love for Annie really was that deep. But in that same instant, they realized it was. Her mom even broke down with tears of joy at the idea once they knew I was serious. She loved the idea of seeing her only daughter walk down the aisle after all. Naturally, Annie and her mom agreed it had to be a church wedding. And I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

         It had to be a simple wedding because of the toll Annie's medical bills had taken on the family. But, all the important details were there. The full length, white strapless gown and veil, with the longest possible train. Large displays of her favorite baby's breath flowers on either side of the altar. My niece, the flower girl, tossing red and white rose petals as she walked slowly up the aisle to the strains of the traditional Wedding March.

         To show how much we both appreciated the support of our families for our decision, I'd asked my dad to be Best Man, and Annie asked her mom to be Matron of Honor. We invited all our friends, but we didn't tell them why we were doing it so soon, and so young. We knew they'd find out soon enough. We just wanted to share this moment with them, show them how real our love had always been, and enjoy the fun with them while we could.

         I knew, too, that I would remember the entire ceremony, word for word, forever. But one line would stand out in my mind for the rest of my life: as the ceremony neared its end, the minister asked us to face the pews, and said, so that all could hear, "I now have the most wonderful pleasure of introducing to you Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey Allen Ambrose." The very moment he finished those words, the happiness I felt at hearing them for the first time overtook me. I lost my composure completely, grabbing Annie in a bear hug and holding on with all my strength as the tears streamed down my face. I knew my sobs were audible, but I didn't care.

         "Look at me, darling," Annie said softly.

         I raised my head from her shoulder, leaning back a little to look at her without letting go of her. I decided she wasn't leaving my arms until she left this world. I wiped away the tears on my sleeve and looked into those wonderful, loving, compassionate pools of blue again.

         "Sweetheart," she began. I could tell by her voice that she, too, would lose her composure in moments. "I want you to know how very, very proud I am to be your wife. How very thankful I am, to you and God, that you were able to persuade me to do this, and that you love me enough to want to do it. Thank you for making my... um... no... our dream come true. I love you!"

         With those words, we both lost it again. As the recessional began, we clung to each other for dear life, both crying our eyes out for joy as we walked back up the aisle.



         As the reception at my parents' house got into full swing, we both dodged the question of "Why so soon?" that we were hearing from everyone. Then the depth of our love really made itself known to Annie. It became too much to resist.

         "Sweetheart," Annie said lovingly as she pulled me aside into one corner of the hallway. "I... want to tell them. I ... want to shout to the world how wonderful you are to do this for me. For us. I'm too proud of you, and too filled with love for you to hold it inside any more. Would... you mind?"

         I was nervous, but I knew it was because I never liked being the center of attention, not because of what she wanted to do. And the look of love and devotion I saw in her eyes left me no choice. "No, honey, I don't mind," I smiled. "Do it your way. That's what this day is for. It's your day."

         "For most brides, it is that way, honey. But for us, it's not my day. It's our day. Thank you, my love! Come with me Mr. Ambrose she almost shouted as she grabbed my hand and ran for the head table at full speed.

         I stood nervously next to her, my arm around her waist, as she waited to catch her breath, picked up the cordless microphone, and began:

         "Ladies and Gentlemen, there's something very important that I need to say to every one of you." I squeezed her. She looked at me lovingly, appreciating the support, and went on: "Throughout our lives, we read about true love, we hear stories of true love, and dream that we will be one of the very few that will be privileged enough to find true love in our lifetime. I am fortunate enough to be able to stand here, now, and tell you that I have found true love. Real love. Lasting love."

         The guests started to applaud, but she stopped them with a strong wave of her hand. Tears were beginning to fill her eyes after she heard herself say those last two words, and she wanted to finish before she lost it completely.

         "Most of you know that Jeff and I have known each other since we were ten years old," she said as the tears from her eyes crept into her voice. "But none of us in this room, myself included, could have ever known, or predicted, how deep the devotion between Jeff and I would become."

         "Most of you also know that Jeff and I had planned, since our freshman year, to be married once high school and college were behind us and we could build a wonderful life together. I want to tell you, now, why our plans changed, so that you can see what true love and devotion really are."

         "A few months ago I was terribly sick with what looked to all of us like a flu, or virus infection. But it never went away. Doctors at the Mayo Clinic have confirmed that it is a viral infection, but one that no one has ever seen before. There is no treatment, and now it has spread to my liver, and likely, other organs.

         "I was devastated, and could hardly tell Jeff once I knew. I thought our life was gone, my dream was gone. Especially my dream of being his wife. But as we sat in his car on Lover's Lane just one month ago, this wonderful, compassionate, loving and devoted man knocked me over with his words. Knowing my condition, and that I now have only months to live and that most of them are gone, he looked me straight in the eye and asked me to marry him NOW."

         "I cried tears of joy for what felt like hours before I pulled myself together. I swallowed hard and told him I couldn't do that to him. That I loved him too much to take his feelings to the sky only to have them dashed to the ground the moment I'm gone. What does this dream of a man do?" She slowly turned to me and kissed my cheek. "He lets me say my piece, then with tear-filled eyes he tells me that if he has to live his life without me he wants to do it secure in the knowledge that our ultimate goal - to be man and wife - was reached. That we truly succeeded in our bond of love. What in the world could I say to that but YES?"

         The crowd started a round of applause again, but she stopped them again. "Please. Let me finish while I have the courage, and the energy." The room went totally silent. "Thank you. Um... our wonderful parents, God bless them, completely understood and signed for us. Not only that, they are splitting the cost of a small - VERY small - apartment where Jeff and I can live as a normal, loving couple until I... have to leave. My goal now is to simply leave this world while he holds me in his arms, when that day does come. I just wanted you all to know that genuine, real, authentic true love does still exist in this world, and that you see it today, before you, at this very moment. Thank you all."

         The tears had been building in her eyes and voice as she approached those last words. That done, amid a standing ovation and thunderous applause, she collapsed against my shoulder and I embraced her tightly as we both cried those tears of joy and love that we felt. Both for what we shared between us, and for the obvious respect and support we got from our guests.

         Fifteen weeks after I carried her over the threshold of that little apartment doorway, we lay in bed. Annie had been too weak to do, or eat anything all day. We knew the time was near. I was already holding her in both arms, the way we both wanted it to end.

         “Darling, I think it’s almost time,” she said weakly. “I’m feeling a little light-headed, as if my life is leaving.”

         “I wish it didn’t have to happen, sweetheart,” I said as the tears started again.

         “I know, darling, so do I. But listen, darling. I need to say something while I can.”

         “What, my love?”

         “Thank you, darling, for loving me enough to make all my dreams come true. I love you!”

         “Thank you, sweetheart,”I said as the tears began falling from my eyes, “for making all my dreams come true. I’ll always love you.”

         “We made it, darling! We reached the goal of our lifetime of love!”

         “Yes, we did, sweetheart! The proof is on your finger, Mrs. Ambrose,” I said deliberately.

         “Gee, I love the sound of that, darling!”

         “So do I, my love. So do I,” I said warmly. I leaned down and gently kissed her. We both lingered there, our tongues searching, trying to hold on to time that would not wait. I gently squeezed her. Her smile was weak, but the shimmering sparkle was still in those wonderful blue pools that looked at me with more love and devotion than most men see in their entire lifetime.

         As if it had been planned, and with our eyes still locked on each other, as they had been since we lay down, we said “I love you!” to each other, quietly and in perfect unison. With that, her eyes gently closed and her head leaned just a fraction of an inch more on my chest. At 8:52 PM on June 24, 1993, she left this world exactly as she had dreamed of doing. Her dream of leaving as I cradled her in my arms had been fulfilled. With that, I suddenly realized that literally all her dreams had been fulfilled. In that sense she had been luckier than everyone we knew. That singular thought warmed my heart as my tears began in earnest and continued throughout the night...



         "Mr. Ambrose?"

         Jeff involuntarily jumped at the sound. Looking up, he saw a slender redhead standing in front of him, her hand outstretched. Mechanically he extended his hand and stood. "That's me," he said as he tried to regain his earlier, more cheerful manner.

         "I'm Ellen Martin. You'll be working for me. Exclusively. Sorry if I startled you."

         Jeff noticed the warm smile on her face and immediately began to relax. "No, that was my fault. I'm afraid I was doing a little... reminiscing. My um... wife passed away eight years ago today."