III. Amelia

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Amelia was sadly representative of the first generation of kids to experience distant memories. Whether or not they actually had memories, they believed that they had done something unredeemable in their past life—something that deserved harsh retribution. Even though depression was common among teenagers living in a hyper-competitive society and had been trending strongly upward years before the phenomenon, many would attribute a feeling of dread to a past life. Their reasoning was usually “Whatever I do, I lose. It must be because of something I did a long time ago.” This tended to create a downward spiral, where every perceived negative was attributed to bad karma. As a result, there was a profound sense of hopelessness among many of the young.

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“Can I at least get yo’ first name?” asked the volunteer, who Amelia immediately recognized was a young black woman from the inner city.

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“Amelia.”

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Amelia lived in an affluent, mostly white suburban neighborhood, where she rarely encountered anyone who didn’t look or talk like her. She suddenly felt that she might have made a mistake by calling.

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“Amelia, I just wanna make sure yo’ safe. Can you tell me where yo’ currently at?”

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“Um…” She paused, wondering whether to hang up. “I’m alone at my mom’s house, sitting in the bathroom.”

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“Okay, Amelia. Do you feel yo’ currently in any danger?”

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“No… No, not really. Just another day with thoughts about killing myself,” she said sarcastically, her voice trembling.

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She wasn’t about to tell a stranger that she was holding a large kitchen knife in her hand.

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“I understand, my dear, and I’m here to help. We all have thoughts. If you don’t mind, can you tell me what you think is triggerin’ these thoughts?”

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Amelia felt extremely vulnerable, but at the same time, she figured she had nothing to lose.

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“I just feel so bad all the time. I don’t know what to do. It’s like I’m carrying this huge weight around, and I can’t seem to put it down.”

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She began to cry at the desperate situation she found herself in.

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“What kind of weight, hon?”

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“You know… stuff I did.”

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“Excuse me fo’ asking, but is it somethin’ you did recently, or is it somethin’ from a previous time?”

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“A previous life.”

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“Oh, okay, I see,” sighed the volunteer, who let a few moments pass before continuing in a softer voice, “Do you think you can tell me ’bout it?”

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“I’d rather not. It’s too embarrassing. It fills me with too much shame.”

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“Okay. I want you to try somethin’ fo’ me. Can you do that?”

“I guess,” she sniffled, wiping her nose.

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“All right. You can see these ‘distant memories,’ as they like to call ’em, but can you see that none o’ them yo’ fault? I mean, did you choose yo’ previous life, or to have these thoughts about it?”

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There was no response from Amelia.

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“I’ll take that as a no. Look,” she continued, “you say you had this previous life, and that it fills you with shame to think about it. But that wasn’t yo’ life. That was just somethin’ you inherited. It’s like it came from some other person or somethin’. That wasn’t you. Are you still with me? Is this makin’ any sense? I know it’s hard.”

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“Yes. Yes, I’m here,” Amelia finally answered, blowing her nose.

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“I have some numbers you can call to get mo’ help, but I want you to remember that you are not that person who came befo’ you. Can you do that fo’ me? Can you remember that?”

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“I don’t know … I don’t know. I don’t want to go through this anymore. I just want to be done with it all.”

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“Look, I’m gonna be straight fo’ward with you—because that’s my job. I’m not here to tell you that life is all beautiful and that you just need to relax and take it on the chin like a big girl. But to be very frank with you—if that’s okay—you either take care of yo’ shit now, or you do it later. Because if you don’t do it now, it will just be waitin’ fo’ you when you come back next time ’round. I don’t think that’s what you want, is it? Do you want the next person to inherit what you have?”

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Amelia gave no reply.

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“Hello?” said the volunteer.

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“No!” Amelia finally answered.

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“Well then, okay. I think we’re making some progress,” the volunteer said in a sort of you go girl way that made Amelia smile.

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She couldn’t resist the change of mood, accompanied by a feeling of overwhelming appreciation for the beautiful stranger on the other end who had given up her Friday night to answer her distress call.

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“I want you to take a deep breath. Can you do that fo’ me? Let’s do it together. I’m here fo’ you, Amelia.”

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Continue to Part IV: William

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