A Second Chance at Love

The fountain of youth. A second chance in life. That’s what they said.

John and I needed that second chance. We paid our dues. We raised our kids. We were ready to reclaim our life. 

John had the procedure before me. He sent me a photo, but we promised not to see each other before I was done with it too. He wanted to fall in love with me at first sight again.

We signed up for this two years ago. It’s been a long wait. I checked our application for status update a million times a day. I spent hours on end of forums chatting with other applicants. I couldn’t help but tear up a little bit when I saw someone else getting a chance. But I was patient. Each success story in the papers made me more hopeful. We would be a success story too.

We knew the risks, of course. But it didn’t matter. The chances were low. We didn’t think about it. It wouldn’t happen to us. 

John and I were in our early twenties when we met. I was dressed like Cinderella and he was Spider-Man at a Halloween Party. I didn’t even see his face that night but he captivated me with his sense of humor. He says he immediately fell in love with me in my blue dress. I did have the perfect hourglass figure, I must say. Thin but curvy, just right when it matters. Of course, now I think it’s all a bunch of BS. Beauty fades. But John fell in love with the beautiful young woman I once was.

I quickly glanced at the fine print. I didn’t let myself read it. It was going to be okay. I was ready. I was ready to wake up as a new woman.

We got married quickly and I was pregnant two months later. My beautiful figure was gone and soon, we didn’t have time for each other. It was all about diapers, breastfeeding, and childhood illnesses. We raised three beautiful children. A boy and a pair of twin girls. We didn’t even have time to breathe until suddenly, twenty years later, the house was empty.

“Now, Mrs. Hawke, you will only feel a little pinch, nothing else. You will fall asleep right away. And when you wake up, it will be like 30 years ago. You will have all the memories of your entire life. You will retain all your wisdom, knowledge, and skills. But you will have a youthful body and a second chance in life. Are you ready?”

The kids left. We had no purpose. We went to work. We came home. We watched a show. We barely looked at each other. Then one day, I noticed him looking at other women. Don’t get me wrong, we all have eyes. You can look. You can like what you see. But there are boundaries. 

I knew he was crossing those boundaries. He never admitted to cheating. I never asked either. It didn’t matter. I knew we had to do something. “I love you, Kara,” he said and he agreed to therapy. We tried it all. Therapy. Date nights. Toys. Swinging. You name it. But something was still missing. The spark. There was love, but more like a friendship. We needed spark. We needed butterflies. We needed to be 25 again.

That was our aha moment. We’ve read about these procedures and laughed them off. Who would do that to themselves? Just accept your age. How silly. I wasn’t even doing botox. 

But suddenly, it all made sense. We had a privileged life: a beautiful home and lots of savings. I will be honest, we didn’t have to work. We only kept our jobs because we enjoyed it. — Okay, that wasn’t honest. We went to work because we couldn’t stand the idea of being with each other all day long. 

Now you see, we needed that spark. We could fall in love again. We could be 25. But with money and without the pressure to raise children. We would be full of energy. We would be beautiful. We could travel. The sex would be wonderful. We signed up the same day.

I looked at the nurse and nodded. I was ready. I closed my eyes. I pictured John in front of me. John, from the picture he sent in his youthful 25-year-old body. The same John I met 30 years ago — but with all the love and memories we had over the years. I couldn’t wait to wake up. To feel beautiful. To be seen as beautiful. To fall in love all over again.

“Mrs. Hawke, good, you are awake”, it was the first sentence I could make out. I slowly opened my eyes. “Can I have a mirror?” I couldn’t wait to see myself. The nurse seemed a bit agitated. Long shift, I assumed, but that doesn’t explain bad customer service. I wanted a smile. This was the best day of my life after all — the first day of the rest of my long life with my John.

She handed me a mirror. I thought it was a joke. It had to be the joke. Then I remembered the risks. One in a million. What are the chances? It’s not right. I must be dreaming. But I knew I wasn’t.

As I teared up, I looked over to my left. And there was John standing behind the glass door in his new 25-year-old body. His eyes filled with tears. He didn’t make any eye contact. He looked down and walked away.