Read On the Divinity of Second Chances for Free Online Page B

you’re a man! You’re even a hunky man! Oh, my God, you really did mean what you said!
    “I’m your new neighbor,” he states.
    No, you’re not! You’re my old best friend! “Oh, welcome.” I try to sound casual.
    “I just moved in yesterday.”
    “Nice.” I look at his eyes for any sign that he remembers me, even on a subconscious level. I think I see a glint. Don’t you remember me? Don’t you remember me? I want to shout jubilantly and hug him. I know better.
    “Well, see you around,” he says and gets into his Pathfinder.
    “See you around,” I reply, as if nothing huge just happened, as if I hadn’t just been reunited with one of my favorite souls in the universe.
    Wow, Nisa. How nice to see you again. I let myself inside my condo and remember the last time I saw her. I remember we were sitting under a tree on a hill overlooking thatched huts in our village below. We were wearing layers of beads around our necks and not much else.
    “I’m getting married.” She broke the news to me in Swahili, and began to cry. “My father picked him. He lives to the south.”
    “I’m so sorry,” I replied, also in Swahili, and began to cry myself. I knew what this meant. She would be moving away. She was the closest thing I had to a sister in that life, and the severing I felt at her news was gut-wrenching. She rested her head on my shoulder and cried awhile, and I tried to comfort her, but really, there’s no way to ease that kind of pain.
    “I wish one of us was a man so we could marry each other and never be torn apart like this,” she said earnestly.
    This made me giggle through my tears. “Which one of us would have to be the man?” I asked.
    Her offer was more than generous: “You can be the woman. You’re prettier.”
    Well, Nisa, here you are to heal old wounds. I sure wish I could ask Josh how the rest of that life turned out, but I know he won’t remember and will only think I’m more nuts than he already must, thanks to the superhero cape.

Olive on Choices
(May 20)
    If I could have taken any road instead of the one I took and ended up in a different place or position than I am now, I would have chosen something different—I’m just not sure what. I look around and wonder who I would swap lives with. Is anyone out there experiencing contentment? I look around the bank where I work and don’t see any content-looking people here.
    On the drive home, I look for contented people. No contended people today. No contented people yesterday. Maybe I’m just seeing the world through my own experience. Maybe I wouldn’t recognize contentment in someone even if I was staring right at it.
    I pull into my parking place, get out, and walk toward my apartment. The afternoon breezes blow distinctive smoke down to the courtyard. I look up to see Todd, Dave, and Chad pass a fattie on the deck above my door. I watch as they take turns inhaling deeply. They look temporarily content, but I don’t think that’s the answer for me.
    As soon as I’m inside my apartment, I go straight to my calendar and count the weeks until I’ll have to move out. Since I can’t afford this place on my own, I used my savings to pay for June’s rent and gave my landlord notice. Five weeks and five days. I flip to July and wonder where I’ll be living then—my parents’ house? That would be a new all-time low. As I look at the Fourth of July, panic strikes me. When was my last period? Let’s see, it was St. Patrick’s Day. Yes, that’s right. I remember it distinctly now because my period always begins on major holidays, giving me cramps and wrecking all special occasions. When it missed Easter, I thought it was weird. That’s one, two, three (flip the page), four, five, six, seven (flip another page), eight, nine weeks ago. Five weeks late? Uh-oh. Let it just be stress. Please, God, let it just be stress.
    I get back into my Honda sedan and drive to the drugstore. I pick up a plastic shopping basket and toss in a