Transplant

Disconcerted I followed her out watching her eyes drift back to the restaurant. It was as if she was leaving something important behind, something she didn't understand and it puzzled her.

The second hiccup was our intimacy.

I mentioned we regained it, but oh boy did we regain it. If you had to ask me before I'd have rated our love life at a seven, maybe eight out of ten. Suddenly it was a twelve out of ten. New positions I'd never heard of before. Things she disliked were now on her like list. She rode me hard and put me away wet more than one night. I couldn't believe the change in her. I wondered if she was spending time online looking stuff up. Maybe she felt the need to show me she was still a healthy woman and deserving of my staying with her. That was bullshit, but they'd warned us there could be psychological fallout from her illness and near death.

She laughed when I finally got up the nerve to ask, and told me she'd hadn't spent time looking up anything new. It was in her mind she said, somehow she knew the moves and what they were called.

So what did I do? Hey, I'm a guy. I manned up and took it like a champ. If she wanted to swing off chandlers I was her man. Make love on the dock doggy style while looking out over the placid moon-lit lake. In like flint!

Other guys might complain about the lack of sex in their marriage, but not me. If anything it had gotten a little too adventurous. We'd almost been caught a couple of times in her public escapades.

The third hiccup, well that one was an asteroid impacting our marriage.

***********************

Emmy

Mark has covered a lot of our history of the time our lives went sideways. I won't bother covering them again.

He's alluded to a couple of incidents that were so out of character for me. I wish that was all. There's stuff I've never even dared to confess to him they're so bizarre.

Shopping in Walmart after my recovery I rounded a corner of an aisle and literally bumped into a woman coming in the opposite direction. Without thinking I reacted.

"Margie!" I exclaimed before realizing I'd never seen this woman before in my life.

She looked puzzled, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

I must have blushed fifty shades of red, I knew her name and her husband's name. I could remember her children and her dog. I remembered their house and the street on which she lived. I knew her birthday. Yet we'd never met.

"But your name is Margie?" I ventured unsure, perhaps I was losing my mind.

"Yes," she said cautiously, "and you are?"

"Emmy and it's weird, but the second I saw you I knew your name. Yet I can't ever remember meeting you either."

She looked really uncomfortable her eyes shifting away from me, "well that's very strange, I really should get going," she threw out obviously flustered and walked away.

I stood watching her leave feeling completely and utterly baffled by the incident. I couldn't even begin to explain it. She looked back a couple of times maybe checking that the nutcase wasn't following her. I'd made her nervous and I couldn't blame her.

Another time I was heading across town to a shoe store with a pair of shoes I wanted on sale when a beauty salon caught my eye. The compulsion that I'd been there before hit so I circled the block and parked. Inside I looked around. I knew this place, I'd definitely been there before. I'd had my hair done there. I knew the names of the girls busy cutting. One in particular stood out I knew she'd cut my hair many, many times.

Yet I had never so much as set foot in this place in my entire life prior to this.

"May I help you," the girl at the counter asked.

I panicked, "no thanks, I just wanted to have a look," and dashed out the door.

I leaned against a pillar outside, feeling faint, my heart pounding and my skin in a cold sweat. My stomach was threatening to vomit my lunch up.

The girl at the reception desk followed me out, "are you Ok?" she enquired sympathetically.

I nodded my head, "maybe coming down with something," I offered.

"You should get home, can I call you a taxi?"

"No my car's here. I just need a minute Darlene." Shit, shit, shit! How would I explain knowing her?

She was quiet for a few seconds, "how did you know my name? I haven't seen you here before."

I turned around, thank God she had it on, I pointed to her name tag.

"Oh," she laughed, "I didn't think of that. You're welcome to come in and sit down till you feel like driving or if you need that taxi just ask."

"Thanks, I'm feeling a little better. I'll head for my car."

In my car I slumped back closing my eyes. How could this be? Sushi? Margie? This beauty salon? The people?

But that didn't cover the stray thoughts running around in my head. Names, places, events none of which I had been to, yet remembered like they were yesterday.

But then came the next one, the big one, the one that shook me to my core...

I was at the greeting card rack, not exactly the setting for a horror moment. Valentines was approaching, exactly one year since I'd been hauled back from death's door. I needed a card that expressed my love for Mark and all the unconditional support my husband had shown me. Standard cards didn't fit the bill. I finally found something I thought would do and I could add a few lines of my own. My eyes flickered back to a humorous card I'd gotten a real laugh out of. It was wickedly funny. I picked it up again and laughed aloud all over.

I decided then and there I would get the loving one for Mark and this funny one for David, it was right up his alley humour wise. David with his little cowlick he couldn't tame that I teased him so much about...

My hand froze reaching for the accompanying envelope.

I didn't know a David, and certainly not one I'd be buying a Valentines card for. But I knew Carmen would like it. Confused I shook my head. I didn't know a Carmen either.

I stood there balancing those two cards in my hands, my thoughts puzzled. Finally I calmly picked out envelopes for both and headed for the cashier. If nothing else I'd have a card for next year and by doing something for the future, it kind of stated I'd live long enough to give it to my love.

A unilateral declaration of survival right!

In the back of my mind though I knew that was a lie, a sorry excuse. I was buying it for David because I was giving into a strong, unexplained compulsion.

The cashier eyed the two cards and then teased me with an impish grin, "that sucks, you've got two and I've got none. Can you lend me one?" Then her eyes focused on my wedding rings.

She blushed a deep shade of red, "I'm sorry ma'am. I shouldn't have said that."

Maybe she thought I was having an affair.

"No harm," I lied, "just getting one for my best friend's husband. She broke her leg and can't get out."

"That's kind of you," she said with a smile.

Back home I sat down and wrote erotic loving messages on both cards, not understanding the compulsions holding my brain hostage. I felt a little, no make that a lot, freaked out.

I had just written an erotic Valentine card to a David I didn't know. Worse, I'd signed Carmen!

*********************

Mark

Valentines was approaching this Friday and I was determined to make this a huge celebration. A year ago I'd been crying over my dying wife's hand and now I had her back whole and sound. I'd made reservations at the most expensive restaurant I could find. White linen service and a real band for dancing after.

Dinner was exquisite even by my barbecue hamburger and beer tastes. Emmy went off her diet and drank two glasses of the champagne I recklessly ordered. Nothing was too good for her tonight. Dinner and dessert cleared away we ordered coffees and listened to the band just starting.

I'm not much of a dancer just standing in place and wiggling whatever body part I felt like moving. Emmy loved to dance. The band was doing a lot of ballroom music and those were dances neither of us had ever learned. Still I was determined that if she wanted to dance I'd go wiggle with her. After her brush with death, embarrassment was a thing of the past.

It wasn't much later when the evening took a turn to the Twilight Zone.

A couple of band members pulled out acoustic guitars approaching the microphones.

"Flamenco!" one of them screamed to the audience with huge enthusiasm.

The fast fingering guitar work started and Emmy pulled at my hand, "let's dance!"

"I have no idea how," I said.

"I'll teach you!" was her response.

Say what? I was stunned. To my knowledge Emmy had never danced a Flamenco in her life.

And there she was while I wiggled in front of her. Her heels pounding, hands swishing her skirt and waving in the air while she strutted what I had to assume was a Flamenco. Her movements were sure and precise. Whatever she was doing, she'd done it a lot. That was apparent.

Everybody else was like me standing in one place moving their bodies to the beat. Things got even weirder when the band leader got on the microphone, "look at her go, ladies and gentlemen."

And they did.

Gradually everybody stopped dancing and there was Emmy in the centre of the floor strutting it up like a professional dancer showing everyone how it needed to be done. Emmy was wearing a blood red dress with a longer skirt that seemed to just fit into the music. She was erotic as all hell and I saw envy in more than a few guys eyes while they watched her.

Her finish drew enthusiastic clapping and whistling of appreciation which I joined. I mean what the hell else do you do when your wife becomes the unexpected dancing queen.

We weren't finished. The band leader got on the microphone again, "awesome ma'am. It's always nice to see a professional dancer. Hey, it's the night for lovers, do you know the Love Dance?"

Emmy nodded her head.

"Castanets?" he offered. She nodded affirmative again so he tossed them to her.

She struck a pose in the middle of the dance floor head tilted to the side looking downward and holding her arms up, hands in a descending curve, the castanets on her finger. The shape of her arms and hands looked like a heart. She was ready.

The band struck up and she was off. Castanets clicking loudly in rhythm like she knew the music. Her hands writhed, her skirt swirled and her heels pounded the floor while she twirled. She danced over to each man sitting at the edge of the dance floor while I watched baffled. It looked like she was examining each and everyone of them and finding them wanting before moving on to the next. Several held their hands out to her in supplication even with their wives sitting at their side. Fortunately everyone took it in good humour. Emmy just smiled and danced on.

Finally after several minutes she danced over to our table, writhing suggestively around me, examining me like she'd never seen me before in her life. Finally she grabbed my tie and dragged me out onto the floor like she'd made her choice, getting a wild cheer from everyone. She danced around me a few times then stopped in front pressing her body tightly against me. Her hand found the back of my head pulling me down into a scorching kiss.

The music hit a crescendo and she suddenly slid down in front of me onto one knee her head submissively pressed against my crotch. The music quit suddenly and in the silence I heard the definite sound of my zipper sliding down. Then her hot lips were blowing blistering hot air on my iron hard erection.

Emmy looked up, her look of utter love for me palatable on her face and I felt like someone kicked me in the stomach watching brilliant blue eyes gradually fade back into the green I was familiar with. I shook my head was I suffering from hallucinations?

My wife's eyes were green. Yes the shades varied as light struck them at different angles, but blue?

Never!

She was in a great mood leaving the restaurant snuggled under my arm her hands weaving around in the air clicking the castanets the band had given her and shouting, "woo hoo!"

I got her belted in the car and sat there while she found some music and starting bopping to the music, clicking castanets keeping time with her.

I knew who I was, I knew where I was, but I no longer had any idea of who was sitting beside me.

This had become the most bizarre night of my life. I'd be calling the doctor on Monday. It was time for a discussion.

Little did I know we'd only got to the 'Z' in bizarre.

We hit a major intersection on the way home and she suddenly pointed to the left, "go that way."

"But that's not..."

"Humour me please Mark, go that way."

We drove that way for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes.

"At that traffic light ahead turn right," she directed.

A couple of miles later, "go left here."

Two streets later, "turn right here."

We were into a residential area by now.

Then immediately, "left and park in front of that house."

There was a small white bungalow, lights still glowing through the drawn drapes.

Emmy unbuckled herself and jumped out of the car.

"What is this place?" I asked.

"It's David and Carmen's place." was her baffling answer heading for the door.

"Who are..." but she was gone.

She hadn't said come and she hadn't said stay. I waffled, but somehow I knew I needed to see whatever was coming. I went after her.

She'd rung the doorbell by the time I arrived. A tall, skinny guy with blonde hair opened the door.

"David," she whispered to him and even I heard the passion in her voice.

"Do I know you?" he asked confused. He'd heard it too.

"It's Carmen," was her next stunning statement.

"What?" he looking very upset, "what are you two playing at?"

"It's me David," she started to step inside, *"tu eres mi vida mi amor mi pasión por siempre," flowed from her mouth like she'd been speaking it all her life. *(you are my life, my love, my passion forever)

"What!" he stumbled backward losing his footing landing on his ass, the pallor of his face dead white in shock, "how do you know that?"

"You need to grease that cowlick down before I shave it off," she came back with.

"How?" He looked stunned again, his gaze shifted to me, "what's going on here?"

"I have no idea," the look on my face probably telling him I was as confused as he was. "She's been acting weird like this ever since her transplant."

"She had a transplant? When?" he was suddenly very interested, scrambling to his feet.

"Last Valentine's Day, a year ago."

"Oh my God, Kings hospital?"

"Yes," I responded, "why?"

"My wife Carmen was killed that night. We were on our way home from our Valentines evening when some drunk plowed into the side of our car killing Carmen instantly. I agreed to donate her organs at the hospital."

"So her heart...?" this was stunning.

"Yes, they told me they had a young woman dying from congestive heart failure and she wouldn't survive the night without it."

"That was me," Emmy answered, "but I've been having these strange memories about you, Carmen, our friends and this house. I remember so much about her life. Things have happened that I can't explain except by accepting that Carmen has somehow become part of me."

She dug into her purse and pulled out an envelope, "here, happy Valentine."

He opened it, read a moment and his eyes widened in shock, "Carmen," he cried taking her into his arms met by an equally eager Emmy-Carmen? I wasn't sure who I was dealing with anymore.

He was bawling his face off tears streaming down his cheeks, "come in, come in," he urged.

I introduced us, "I'm Mark and she's Emmy." We shook hands.

There were love seats on either side of the living room and a coffee table between. I sat on one and he sat on the other. I expected Emma to sit beside me, but to my shock she sat on his lap, wrapping her arm around his neck and whispering into his ear.

It disturbed me, but under these weird circumstances I decided to go with the flow.

"Do you have a picture of Carmen?" I asked.

"Over on that table."

They were busy whispering so I helped myself. I stared down into that picture. A very pretty Latino stared back with jet black hair and stunningly brilliant blue eyes. A brilliant blue that matched what I'd seen in my wife's eyes on the dance floor a short while ago. I guess we missed her hair turning colour as a clue too. Her hair matched Carmen's now. I had to assume the all over.

I took it over to my otherwise occupied wife, "look."

"I've got her hair too! Wow," was her response. She turned to David, "my hair was brunette until after the transplant. It gradually turned black like hers.

"So what other Carmen things have been happening?" David asked eagerly.

I explained the sushi, she explained the beauty shop and the cards.

"So that was you that ran into Margie at Walmart," he clued in. "She's still talking about it!"

"It must have freaked her, it certainly freaked me. I knew her name, where she lived, her kids, her husband and her birthday. But I didn't know how."

That one was news to me Emmy had never mentioned that encounter, the beauty shop or the Valentine cards.

"Anything else?" he asked.

I told him about the dancing tonight and then reluctantly mentioned our suddenly over the top sex life.

He laughed, "that's Carmen all right. She taught PE and sex education classes at the high school. She was determined that the kids would never catch her out over some new sexual thing she didn't know. She was religious about keeping on top of current sex trends and the 'how to'. She'd find something new and use me for a guinea pig. She also loved Spanish dancing. Her mom was Spanish and taught her when she was young. She let the girls in her gym classes have one or two days a month to dance. They loved it. Do you now that close to fifteen hundred of her kids and other teachers turned out for her funeral. She was pretty popular."

Then I told him about Emmy directing us here tonight without a hitch. She knew where she was going and who was going to be here.

He looked at Emmy cuddling in his arms and his finger instinctively traced down her scar. It was strangely intimate touching the bare skin between her breasts, but Emmy made no move to stop him. I bit my tongue.

"Carmen?" he said wonderingly, then burst into tears again.

Emmy held him tight and stroked his head while he cried.

"I never got a chance to say goodbye to her. It all happened so fast. One second we were talking and the next a horrendous crash and she was gone. There's so much I wanted to tell her, so many times over the last year I wanted to show her how much she meant to me. I'll never be able to do either."

That was my revelation about how wrong my thinking had been when my Emmy lay dying. Many times I'd thought that an accident or heart attack would have been faster and ended her suffering. But here was the reality of someone who suffered losing his love in an accident, and never had the chance to talk to her before she died. If Emmy had died that quickly she and I wouldn't have had the last year together.

"Can I borrow your computer?" I asked.

I googled 'transplant recipients personality changes'

It took a few different queries till I hit on a web page that discussed ten cases where a transplant recipient had taken on characteristics of the organ donor. It was fascinating reading and in it's totality gave me a good idea what we were dealing with here. There were other web pages acknowledging the phenomenon. It seemed like it was showing up in a small percentage of cases. They were doing scientific surveys to determine the extent it was happening.

I showed it to them, "it seems there's a lot of situations like this that are being investigated. They think it works by memory in the body's cells. That makes some sense to me after all, people like boxers or high performing sport figures practise for hours to develop muscle memory so there must be some memory capacity in the body. Now Carmen's transplanted cells are part of Emmy and she's experiencing her memories.