IF

by Kathleen Chamberlin

Felicia Latimore seemed to dwell in a perpetual state of regret, bemoaning every poor decision she had made from her early childhood to the impulsive pixie cut she’d gotten last week.

“If I had the chance to do it over again, I would do things very differently.” She let out a deep sigh, shaking her head from side to side, looking into her coffee mug rather than meeting her friend’s eyes. She knew what she’d find there: the patient and kind expression of Jordan St. John attempting to mask her frustration over Felicia’s dissatisfaction with the status quo. The two life friends met for lunch or coffee every Wednesday, a pact they had made during high school that, no matter what they would make time for one another.

“Really, Flea? Do you truly believe it would be that easy? That you could reinvent yourself if you could somehow step back in time and choose a different path? That that choice would lead to a completely different life and, consequently, to a totally different person than the one you are now?

Felicia met her friend’s green eyes full on. “Why not? With all that I know now about who I am and what I want, I would do things very differently. “

“For argument’s sake, let’s suppose that there was a way to go back for a do over. Then what? What moment do you choose to change? And what if by going back, you have no recollection of this life and, consequently, nothing to guide your choice? You know more now about who you are and what you want because of all you’ve experienced. If you went back, you wouldn’t have any more insight into what you want now than you did the first time you encountered the same choice. Not only that, my dear friend, what if things simply turned out the same in spite of your trying to change them? And if you are able to change things, who’s to say that you’re going to be any more satisfied with the outcome than you are now? Isn’t it just as possible for things to turn out worse? “

Felicia’s expression soured. “I suppose, but I choose to think that making a different decision in my past would lead to a more satisfactory existence now.”

“But which decision?  Every decision, no matter how inconsequential it may seem at the time, eliminates an entire array of possible outcomes. Remember the butterfly effect?”

“I know. I know. I just think about it sometimes. All the years wasted. The time squandered on a life not fully lived. And I wish it could be different. Don’t you have any regrets? Don’t you ever think about the life you could have had, if only…”

“What’s behind this? You and I have been friends for over twenty years and you’ve never wanted to undo your life. Sure, there were some hard years, but everyone has those. There’s no such thing as ‘They lived happily ever after,’ so what’s going on?”

Felicia reached into her briefcase and pulled out a newspaper clipping from their hometown paper. It showed the picture of a smiling man under the headline KEN YOUNG RE-ELECTED.

“I thought you were over that particular episode of your life. At least, that’s what you told me.”

“There’s unfinished business between us, Jordan. Things left unsaid. It’s like what they say people experience after losing a limb. You know it’s gone, but somewhere in your consciousness, or unconsciousness, it lingers. And awareness of the pain of the experience remains.”

“Whatever is unfinished between you was meant to be that way. Do you honestly think that going back to some point in that relationship, you’ll be able to salvage it?”

“I ran away, Jordan. And for a long time, I question whether or not I made the right choice.”

“Look, I don’t know if you did or you didn’t. I only know that you did choose a certain path because it seemed to be the right one at the time. Let me ask you this: Are you willing to risk losing all aspects of your current life, your real life, for the unknown? If you say yes, then you are seriously troubled.” Jordan tried to say it jokingly but her concern gave her smile a strained look. “Everything would vanish: your career, your kids, even our friendship might cease to exist. That’s not something I would be willing to risk. Especially not for a relationship that died decades ago. Don’t play Scarlett O’Hara, for heaven’s sake! Ken Young might prove to be your Ashley.”

“Relax Jordan. Nothing’s going to happen. It’s just one of the activities I indulge in when I hold a pity party. Mom sent me the clipping. Her way of saying ‘you had a chance but you blew it’ and it got me imagining what life with him would be like.”

***

Later that evening, Felicia sat in her living room, feet curled up under her on the couch and surveyed her surroundings. She had a lot to be thankful for, she thought, and that, too, was a consequence of the choices she had made. The children were watching TV in the family room and her husband was in his office in the basement finishing up some paperwork. She had tried reading, but her conversation from this afternoon kept replacing the scene the author was depicting. She set the book aside and took the newspaper clipping out and allowed her mind to drift along the currents of the past. There he was, as she remembered him: tall, and firmly built, a mane of brown hair that was always wind-tossed, smiling that heart-stopping smile that even in memory made her catch her breath. “Are you my Ashley Wilkes?” she asked the vision. But being only a vision, he didn’t answer. He just kept smiling.

Felicia walked over to the picture window and took in the night sky, a deep ebony, sprinkled with scores of sparkling stars, overwhelming in their beauty. “Too many for that child’s game of wishing on a star to make a dream come true, but if I could have one wish granted, I would go back to my senior year of high school,” she confided to world outside the window.

As her words floated upward, spiraling across the sky, she glimpsed a shooting star, and thought that the universe had heard her. She turned toward the family room and called to the girls. “Caroline!  Yvonne! Bed time!” Then she called down to her husband. “Eric? I’m going to bed. Don’t work too late.” Eric wished her goodnight and said he’d almost finished working. She followed her girls upstairs and readied herself for bed, her mind racing through kaleidoscopic, conflicting images. She got into bed, pulled the covers up and buried her head in the pillows, willing herself to sleep. When sleep finally came, she found herself at the ocean, in deep debate with her college philosophy professor about fate and free will. Her thesis was that the two states were not mutually exclusive, that they could, in fact, coexist.

“Take Macbeth, for example. Let’s suppose that the three witches did know that Macbeth’s destiny was to become king. That’s fate. However, Macbeth exercises free will when he chooses to murder his cousin Duncan to ascend to the throne. He might just as easily have chosen to do nothing and wait, if he believed the witches knew the future. But he feels that future slipping away, so he acts. The same is true for Adam and Eve, according to Milton’s Paradise Lost. The pair have free will to choose, to follow their one prohibition as well as to accept or reject the Serpent’s words, even if Milton’s all-knowing God knows they will eventually fall.”

“Yes,” her professor replied, biting into an apple. “but what about the tale of Death and the servant? He sought to avoid Death by fleeing the city where he first encountered him, fearing Death had come for him. So, he borrows money from his master and heads to Samarra. When his master meets Death in the marketplace to ask him why he frowned upon his servant, Death replies… “

“I know. I know,” Felicia interrupted. “Death replies, ‘I was just startled to find him here because I was supposed to meet him tonight in Samarra.’ It’s another example of the simultaneity of fate and free will.” 

Her professor’s face faded and was replaced by Jordan’s.

“It’s what I tried to tell you! The path we choose may differ as a result of the decisions we make, but we will, inevitably end up in the place fate intends us to be. You believe this! Why do you think you’d be any happier with where your life is if you had made different choices?”

As she struggled to find an answer, a huge wave came out of nowhere, knocking them off their feet and choking them with its churning waters. Felicia swam to the surface and turned in a circle, treading water, searching for Jordan, trying to call her name, but finding her voice paralyzed. Frantically, she tried to scream for help. The effort woke her up. She glanced at the clock as her mother called upstairs to her.

“Felicia Anne! Hurry up and get down here. Jordan’s mom is on the way to pick you up for school.”

***

Felicia Young sat in the corner booth and stared at the divorce papers in front of her. She sipped her coffee, reflecting on the volatile relationship she and Ken had had over the years. The once sweet romance that had blossomed in high school had soured with each of Ken’s political successes until the only remnants were bitter tears and angry fights. His latest transgression, the infidelity she had discovered, had been the last straw. All that was left to do was to sign the papers and she could begin her life anew. Her thoughts were interrupted by someone saying “Well I’ll be damned. Felicia?  It’s been years! Do you mind if I join you?”

Felicia looked into the eyes of Jordan St John.

“Jordan! Oh Jordan, yes! I mean no, please have a seat! I can’t believe it’s you! How are you? You’re looking great!”

Jordan slid into the booth opposite Felicia and shrugged off her coat. The first few awkward minutes saw them engaging in small talk, but soon the two were laughing and reigniting their once very close friendship, bemoaning the fact that they had allowed it to slip away.

“How’s Ken? I see him on the news frequently. Did you ever imagine, when we were in high school that you would be married to such a political dynamo?” 

Felicia smiled a sad smile, debating whether to confide in Jordan about her impending divorce. “You know, Jordan, I had no idea back then that the choices I made would bring me to where I am today. And sometimes I think that knowing who I am and what I want...I think if I had a chance to do it all over again, I would do things very differently.”
 

* * * * *

Kathleen Chamberlin is a retired educator living in Albany, New York. She began writing creatively during the quarantine period of Covid-19 and her writing has appeared in both print and online journals and anthologies. In addition to writing, she enjoys gardening, genealogy, and her grandchildren.