Cohen - Lindens Last Life

ALSO BY ALAN COHEN

LINDENS
LAST LIFE

The Point of No Return
Is Just the Beginning

ALAN COHEN

HAY HOUSE, INC.

Carlsbad, California New York City
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Copyright 2009 by Alan Cohen

Published and distributed in the United States by: Hay House, Inc.: www.hayhouse.com Published and distributed in Australia by: Hay House Australia Pty. Ltd.: www.hayhouse.com.au Published and distributed in the United Kingdom by: Hay House UK, Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.uk Published and distributed in the Republic of South Africa by: Hay House SA (Pty), Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.za Distributed in Canada by: Raincoast: www.raincoast.com Published in India by: Hay House Publishers India: www.hayhouse.co.in

Design: Tricia Breidenthal

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or otherwise be copied for public or private useother than for fair use as brief quotations embodied in articles and reviewswithout prior written permission of the publisher.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Cohen, Alan.

Lindens last life : the point of no return is just the beginning / Alan Cohen. -- 1st ed.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-1-4019-2415-7 (tradepaper : alk. paper) 1. Spiritual life--Fiction. I. Title.

PS3603.O328L56 2009

813.6--dc22

2009008400

ISBN: 978-1-4019-2415-7

12 11 10 09 4 3 2 1
1st edition, October 2009

Printed in the United States of America

For Dee,

who teaches me daily

how worthwhile is life

and how present is love.

Contents

For as many times as I wondered how I would die, I never imagined it would be at my own hand.

I stood on the burnt-orange railing of the Golden Gate Bridge, my knees shaking violently, staring into the icy water 200 feet below. The full moon cast an eerie glow over the angry black churning swells, about to swallow me whole. Fear clutched my naked throat like an icy hand, and my body stiffened. A voice in my head screamed: Get down and save yourself while you can! But I had made up my mind. Even a painful death could be no worse than the agony that had ravaged me for so long.

The night I found them still tortured me. Through the fogged window of a dark green Mercedes I saw my girlfriend straddling her boss. Vickys dress was up around her waist, and she was riding him like an animal. Jesus they couldnt even wait until they got into her apartment, just steps from the car.

Crimson fury exploded through my brain. What the hell do you think youre doing, Vicky?! I yelled as I pounded on the window.

Jarred, Vicky straightened her dress and rubbed the fog off the inside of the window. When she saw that it was me, she made a pained face and lowered the window. Im sorry, Linden, she called through the darkness. I didnt plan on thisit just sort of happened.

Take a hint, man, Ian muttered from the shadow. This woman deserves to be with a man who can take her places.

Vicky caught my eyes for a brief moment, and then the electric window silently rolled closed, shutting me out like a stray dog. I slammed on the roof and stumbled away, crazy with humiliation and outrage.

The next six months were pure hell. The following day Time Out laid me off, and on my way home, my cars transmission died on the 101. By the time I gathered the money to have it fixed, the city had towed and junked it. Within two months I couldnt make my rent; my landlord locked me out and left my stuff on the sidewalk; when I returned, it was pillaged and gone. I tried desperately to find another job, but nobody was hiring. Finally I called my mom, hoping she would send me a little cash. But before I could even ask her, she told me that my best friend from high school had hung himself in his living room three days earlier. When I heard that, the bottom dropped out of my gut. I started walking the streets for I dont know how long. Eventually a blister grew on my foot, and it got infected; when I went to the emergency room, they wouldnt treat me without insurance.

I made my way to the bridge.

Vicky wasnt the only girlfriend Id ever hadjust the only one I loved. Her stunning looks and coquettish smile melted every guy who came into the Time Out office, and I was no exception. When I dropped off my movie reviews, her velvet voice disarmed me and our conversations turned into hypnotic interludes. I would walk out of the office all aflutter and find excuses to come back just to see her. When she agreed to go out with me, I thought my heart would leap out of my chest. Our dates evolved into marathon lovemaking sessions seasoned with metaphysical discussions and childlike laughter. Yet when Vicky practically drooled over dresses she saw in the Macys window and she seemed overly impressed by her ego-bloated bosss new C350, I should have seen the bomb coming. But my hope for what could be blinded me to what was, and I had to learn the hard way that betrayal lurks behind even the sunniest moments.

But none of that mattered nowin a few moments it would all be over. I steadied myself for a moment against a thick upright cable, took a breath, and held it. This is your last chance to turn back, that voice pleaded with me. But there was no turning back. I had to stop the pain in my heart. Just one little step and it will all be over.

Suddenly I felt something touching my foot. I looked down to see a hand wrapped around my ankle. It wasnt grabbing or forcingjust firm, yet gentle.

Dont try to stop me! I shouted as I broke free and scampered up to the roof of a small maintenance shed to my left, my fingers in hole-ridden gloves stinging against the windswept steel. I strained to see down into the foggy night, but all I could make out was a silhouette against the stream of passing headlights.