My Tomorrow, Your Yesterday

by Jason Ayres

  She was just as I had seen her in the pictures on my phone. She had quite a chubby face, fringed by a sharply cut bob of dark hair which complemented her face perfectly. Instinctively I reached across and cuddled up to her.

  She seemed much more petite than I had imagined, her feet seeming barely to go down much below my knee, but to be fair, she was quite curled up.

  I kissed her and she awoke, smiling. “Morning, gorgeous,” she said. She had an infectious, cheeky grin and I couldn’t keep my hands off her, running them along her body, wanting more.

  “Mmmm, you’re frisky this morning,” she remarked. “Didn’t you have enough last night?” And with that, she pushed me over onto my back and wriggled her way down the bed. I really hoped she might be about to do what I thought she was about to do, and I wasn’t disappointed.

  The next ten minutes were a blur of ecstasy. Afterwards, Lauren reached across to a tiny bedside table, took a cigarette out from a packet, and lit up. “Want one?” she asked.

  “No – I don’t smoke,” I said, though I was sorely tempted. I’d learnt to manage my nicotine cravings, but having this cute, sexy girl, who had just done what she had done, coolly lighting up next to me was extremely tempting.

  “You could have fooled me,” she said. “You were chaining them last night.”

  I realise I’d made a slip and quickly said, “Yes, I know, but I’m supposed to be giving up, New Year’s resolution and all that.”

  She looked across to the clock, which read 9.12am. “I’m going to have to get moving, I’m due in work at ten.”

  “What do you do?” I asked, and then quickly realised I’d made another mistake. She looked annoyed as she replied, “I told you all about that yesterday, obviously you weren’t listening. I’m working as a beautician in a salon in town.”

  “Will I see you later?” I asked, hopefully, slightly disappointed that our morning together was going to be cut short so soon.

  “I can’t tonight. I’m going out with my friend, Kaylee. I’ll text you tomorrow, yeah?”

  “OK,” I said. I had no reason to be bothered. I already knew she was going to dump me the next day, and I had all the pleasures of the previous days still to come.

  We left at the same time, emerging out into a busy Walton Street, the low winter sun making me squint. We kissed goodbye and she headed into town, whilst I began the two-mile walk home back to North Oxford. It was cold and frosty, but I was still well and truly basking in the afterglow.

  I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t hear from Lauren again that day. I already knew that there would be no text messages, and she didn’t call. I pondered over what she’d said and the text that had come the day after.

  The most obvious explanation was that she’d gone out with her friend, met another bloke, and decided to drop me for him. I didn’t feel particularly bitter: after all, I’d been punching well above my weight to have got with her in the first place.

  The next day was Sunday, and I did not wake up in Lauren’s bedsit, but back home in my own bed. I checked my phone. The message about fucking my brains out had disappeared.

  How was I going to play this? I should have asked her what we’d done the previous day when I had the chance, but I had been rather distracted on the Monday morning and then she’d rushed off to work.

  I remembered that she’d sent the message just before midday, so I waited until about a quarter to twelve, and then rang her.

  She sounded genuinely pleased to hear me and full of enthusiasm when I asked her if she fancied meeting up for Sunday lunch. There was a lot of flirty talk on the phone, and sure enough the famous “brains” text arrived shortly afterwards, word for word exactly as it had done before. I was in for a good day.

  I met her in a riverside pub by the Thames, which I had heard did a fantastic Sunday roast. I wasn’t disappointed. Over a huge helping of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and all the trimmings, I asked her more about herself, choosing my words carefully, being mindful of the mistake I had made before.

  I found out that she was nineteen years old, younger than I had originally thought, and had been living in Oxford for about a year. She had moved to be with her boyfriend who was an undergraduate at the university, but they had split up a few months ago.

  Now she was eking out a living working as a beautician at a salon, but was struggling to make ends meet. Although she only had a rented room in a shared house, rents in Oxford were prohibitively expensive and she was considering moving back to her home town, around fifteen miles away, to live with her mother.

  Between us we downed two bottles of wine over lunch, by which time Lauren was very much ready to act out her promise from the text message. Months of anticipation were welling up inside me as we took a taxi back to her bedsit. Once we were there, I wasn’t disappointed, and thankfully, I’m pleased to say, neither was she.

  Despite my age and relative lack of fitness, it seemed I’d still got it. Maybe it was a little sick, a 51-year-old man having sex with a nineteen-year-old, but realistically, how many men of my age would turn down such an offer?

  After a couple of amazing hours in the sack, she lit up and flicked on the TV, a fairly small and old-fashioned flat-screen model which sat atop her chest of drawers.

  “Oh, I love this movie,” she exclaimed. “Let’s watch.”

  It was one of the old Back to the Future movies of which I was vaguely aware, but hadn’t seen before, at least not in this lifetime. We snuggled up together under the duvet and watched as the lead character jumped back and forth between 1955, 1985 and 2015.

  “Wouldn’t it be great if people really could travel in time?” I commented, fully aware of the ironic nature of my statement.

  “Oh, they can,” replied Lauren casually, taking me by surprise. “I should know. I’ve seen it.”

  “Really?” I asked, intrigued. “Tell me more,” I said.

  “I shouldn’t, to be honest,” she said. “I made a promise with a group of friends that we’d never talk about it to anyone else.”

  “You can’t say something like that and then not elaborate on it,” I said. And then I added: “You know, I may well know more about time travel than you might suspect. What if I told you that I’d travelled in time myself?”

  “I’d probably think you were making it up,” she said.

  For all I knew, she might be making it up as well. But there was no harm in finding out.

  “OK, how about this, then?” I said. “Whether we’re making it up or not, why don’t you tell me your story, and I’ll tell you mine. If it’s all one big fantasy, then what harm can it do?”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Lauren. “I like fantasies.”

  “I bet you do,” I said. “Come on then, you first.”

  And so Lauren told me the tale of how she and her friends had discovered a Time Bubble in a railway tunnel and how they had used it to jump forward in time. Although she hadn’t personally travelled through it herself, she’d watched as her friend, who’d mysteriously vanished for two days, reappeared before her very eyes.

  She said she had to keep some of the details secret, such as the time and location where all this had happened. This was for the protection of someone who was currently travelling inside the Time Bubble. Lack of details notwithstanding, it certainly was an interesting tale.

  If it was true, it meant that I was no longer alone in the time-travelling world. Up until now, I had not told anyone about my own situation, firstly because there did not seem a lot of point when they would not remember it the next day, and secondly because I just assumed anyone I told would assume I was mad.

  So I decided that I would tell Lauren everything. Right from the first day when I’d woken up in the hospital bed, all the way back to today, including the fact that I had known for several months that we were destined to meet as we had done.

  She listened intently all the way through, asking occasional questions for clarification. When I had finished I asked her what she though
t.

  “Well,” she replied, “had you told me all this three years ago, I would have said you were insane. But after what I’ve seen since then, I guess anything is possible.”

  “I wish there was a way I could prove it to you,” I responded, “but unfortunately one of the drawbacks of my journey backward through time is I can’t bring anything with me. Otherwise, I could have given you a copy of tomorrow’s paper.”

  “That’s convenient,” she said, and then added, “I’m only joking – I really would like to believe you.”

  Then I remembered something. “OK, there is a way I can prove it. Unfortunately you won’t find out today so it won’t be any good to me, but at least you will know I was telling the truth when it happens.”

  “Go on,” she said.

  “Right, it’s quite simple really. Oxford United are going to win 4-0 this Saturday,” I said.

  “Now I know you’re making it up!” she said, laughing. “When was the last time Oxford managed to win 4-0?”

  “I know, and that’s what makes it all the more likely I’m telling the truth when it happens.” Oxford were currently just above the relegation zone in their division, with little sign of any improvement to come.

  “If you know the results of football matches, you should bet on them,” remarked Lauren.

  “I thought about it once,” I said, “but then I realised it was pointless as any money I won would be gone the next day. However, now you’ve mentioned it, I might sometime, just for the thrill of it. But I am telling you now, Oxford are going to win 4-0 this Saturday.”

  “What are the odds on that?” asked Lauren. “Must be pretty good, don’t you think?”

  I didn’t know very much about gambling, so couldn’t really answer her question, but 4-0 seemed a quite unlikely scoreline, especially where Oxford were concerned. “I’ve no idea,” I said, “but they’ve got to be good. I really think you should put a bet on it. You said yourself you were struggling to afford the rent on this place. I think you should go down to the betting shop and put every penny you can on Oxford winning 4-0. It could make the difference between you staying in Oxford or having to move back home.”

  “OK, you’ve convinced me,” she said. “I’ve got about a month left here at best with the money I’ve got, so what is there to lose?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “In fact, I’m so confident I am going to give you the money myself,” and I reached down to my trousers which had been discarded in a heap next to the bed in our rush to get into bed, and pulled out two £20 pound notes. “Take these, and promise me you’ll put the bet on.”

  “Ooh, I’m excited now,” said Lauren. “Don’t you think this is a bit dodgy, though, you handing me over cash after what we did earlier? I’m not that kind of girl, you know.” She laughed again, her eyes flashing me another one of her naughty looks that I was getting to know so well. I was becoming really fond of this girl, and was going to miss her when our short time was over.

  “Well, since you are helping me out,” she said, “maybe I can do something for you, too.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, my mind immediately imagining a further feast of sexual delights.

  “I think you should go and speak to my ex, Josh. He has been obsessed with time travel ever since he discovered it was possible. Since he’s been at the university, he’s been getting involved with some time travel experiments they are doing there.”

  Now this was very interesting. I had assumed my journey was one-way only, always going backwards, never being able to see the results of my actions on future events. What if it was possible to change that?

  “I think I’d like to meet him,” I said.

  “I’ll give you his number,” she said, and wrote it down on a piece of paper. I took it, but before I could memorise it, she pounced on me once again and all thoughts of time travel were very quickly forgotten.

  The following morning, I again awoke in her bed, cuddled up to her. I reached across to the bedside table for the note she had written, but of course, it was gone. I really had to stop making that mistake.

  “Hey, sexy,” I breathed in her ear as I gently woke her. She turned and smiled and we kissed. It was Saturday and she had to work, so there was little time to talk. I needed to get Josh’s number from her again, but since all memory of the conversation we’d had would now have been erased from her mind, I couldn’t just come out and ask her.

  It wasn’t urgent. The fact that I’d woken up in her bed on Saturday morning meant that I’d be seeing her on Friday night, so I’d find a way of getting it out of her then.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t seem anything like as receptive to talking about her ex on Friday night, perhaps because she’d only known me a day or two at that stage. She seemed mainly interested in getting pissed and having a good time.

  With some reluctance I allowed myself to be dragged along to a club, bearing in mind my only previous visit as a sad, single, middle-aged man had been a dismal failure. This time was different. With a sexy young girl in tow I no longer felt like a loser and even managed a few steps on the dance floor, amazed at my bravery.

  For a while I forgot my age, and found myself really enjoying myself in public for possibly the first time ever.

  Unfortunately, I was about to have my very own Cinderella moment. I had stayed up until 3am before, but always in the safety of my own home. I had been having such a good night that I had lost all track of time.

  Lauren and I had left the dance floor to get some more drinks and move to a quieter area of the club. Here there were small, circular recesses set into the walls like bay windows, with a small circular bench just big enough for a couple to sit in.

  We were sitting in one of these cubicles when suddenly the world around me vanished and I found myself at home, on the toilet, having a sitting down wee. To say this put a bit of a dampener on proceedings would have been putting it mildly.

  Usually when my 3am jump back in time occurred I was asleep either at the time I left the future, or at the time I returned to the past. I couldn’t recall another occasion when I had been awake for both.

  It got me wondering what had happened to my future self in the club. Was I still in the booth, after 3am, kissing Lauren, and if I was, would I still be me, or would I be another me, starting another timeline? There was still no way of knowing these things.

  All I knew now was that my best lead so far towards answering these questions was to find Josh.

  Horses

  December 2021

  I had only one day left with Lauren after my Cinderella exit from the club, and that was the day when I first met her. It was quite a bittersweet moment for me, knowing that I wouldn’t see her anymore.

  I knew where and when we’d initially met from our conversations, and so it was that I made sure I was in the coffee shop at the appointed time. I needed to engineer things to ensure that our chance meeting took place on cue.

  Apparently I had bumped into her and knocked her coffee out of her hand at which point I’d offered to buy her another. In the original timeline, it was no doubt a simple accident.

  My attempt to re-enact the scenario this time round must have looked like a blatantly contrived effort, but it still did the trick. It got us talking and we had a very enjoyable day together which ended with us arranging to meet again the following day.

  Now that our little fling was over, I pondered what it was she’d seen in me. Perhaps I was something different, a father figure perhaps? I guess I would never know now. I decided just to be grateful for whatever good fortune had brought her into my life for all too brief a time, and move on alone once more.

  Her departure from my life was something I realised I was going to have to get used to with other people in the future. Just as my tomorrows would be everybody else’s yesterdays, I’d be saying goodbye to people for the last time while they were meeting me for the first time.

  I hadn’t needed to ask Lauren any more about Josh, as I’d already found
out everything I needed to know from social media. Having checked out her profile on Facebook, I was pleased to discover that it was open to public view for all and sundry to browse, friends or not. And she certainly had a lot of friends, as well as followers: mostly male, it seemed.

  It was a relatively simple task to find Josh on Lauren’s Friends list. Before long I knew that his name was Josh Gardner; he was twenty years old and a second-year undergraduate at one of Oxford’s most prestigious colleges.

  I also knew from his profile picture exactly what he looked like. All I needed to do now was to work out how to meet him.

  By the time I had done this detective work it had been early January, and he had gone back to his home town for the Christmas period. So I decided to wait until mid-December when he would be back at college and then try to work out a way to approach him.

  Social media again proved very useful for this purpose. Just as with email, text messaging and Wikipedia, Facebook was a rich source of information to help guide me through my life.

  Josh also had an open profile, and by reading back through his status messages I could establish a number of places and times where he would be. I just needed to pick the right moment. I also needed a good “convincer”.

  This was a term I had seen on TV in a programme about confidence tricksters. I was no conman, but I knew if I was to ensure that Josh was to believe my story, I’d have to find some way of backing it up.

  As luck would have it, a scroll back through Josh’s profile revealed the perfect opportunity. It seemed that one Saturday in early December he had gone to the races at Cheltenham with his dad and brother.

  So, I wouldn’t need to contrive a way of meeting in Oxford after all. It looked like I was about to pay my first of many visits to the racetrack.

  I had a vague interest in racing from watching it on Channel 4, mostly during that first year or so when I hadn’t felt up to leaving the house very often.

  I got quite a kick out of knowing the results in advance, particularly when I heard the channel’s experts confidently predicting that such and such a horse (usually the favourite) would win when I knew otherwise.