The Surviving Trace

by Calia Read

  The problem is my mind will not rest. Even though my body is ready to collapse from exhaustion, I know when I lay my head on my pillow, I’ll be haunted by Étienne. His face refuses to leave my memory. His eyes taunt me with the knowledge that I left him when he needed me the most. I didn’t want to go, but I had no choice.

  Does he know that? He has to know that.

  I know it sounds crazy, but I smell him. Moments when I seem like a functioning human being, I’ll get the smallest sniff of his cologne, and it sets me into a frenzy.

  I keep thinking about the night left Étienne’s time and went back to my own.

  What did I do wrong?

  What did I not notice?

  The questions swirling in my head are enough to drive anyone to the point of delirium.

  “Yoohoo? Is anyone there?” Liz snaps her fingers in front of my face, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  I straighten my shoulders and give her a smile that never reaches my eyes. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.”

  “I can tell.” She’s standing across the desk, a stack of old magazines between us. We’re supposed to be organizing them by year, yet at this point, she’s doing all the organizing. “You’ve been out of it all day. What’s going on with you?”

  I grab the first magazine and pretend to be busy. Exactly how much time does Liz have? Because I’d need a whole day to explain what’s happened to me. Instead, I say, “I’ve been having a hard time sleeping.”

  She lifts her head. “Really?”

  I nod.

  Liz drops the magazine in her hands, drags a chair from across the room, and sits next to me. “I’m all ears. Tell me what’s keeping you up.”

  Just then, the bell attached to the front door dings. Her shoulders sag as she sighs.

  “Shit. I better go back out there. Hold on one second.” She holds up a finger for emphasis and disappears through the door. Before the door clicks shut, I hear her happily greet a customer.

  That should be me right now—interacting with people, taking an active interest in my business. But I’m so detached from the present; I can’t, for the life of me, think of anything but the past.

  For the umpteenth time, I glance at the calendar hanging next to the corkboard. No matter how many times I look at the date, it still says December 22nd. The year is 2017. I squint my eyes, willing the numbers to disappear and turn into 1912.

  It doesn’t happen.

  With a groan, I drop my head into my palms and close my eyes. What am I going to do? The picture is gone, as though it was never taken. In my mind, it’s my only link to the past, but there has to be another way back to Étienne.

  There has to be.

  Moments later, Liz walks back into the room. “Okay. What were we talking about?”

  “Me not sleeping.”

  “Yes!” She snaps her fingers and drops back into the chair. With her elbows resting on the desk, she leans forward, her attention riveted on me. “So why can’t you sleep?”

  I toy with my cuticles, trying to figure out how I can tell her the truth. There’s no way of knowing how she’ll react. True, she’s a lover of the past, but what I’m about to confess is more than finding an antique at an estate sale. What I’m about to tell her requires her to suspend belief in reality. I know that’s asking a lot, but I need to tell someone the truth.

  Liz covers my hand, and I lift my head. “Serene, tell me what’s going on.”

  With a sigh, I sit up straighter in my chair. “Do you remember the conversation we once had about how amazing it would be if we could time travel?”

  Confusion clouds Liz’s expression. “Yes.”

  “You said you wanted to go back to 1820s and I picked the 1930s. We talked about how surreal and fascinating it’d be to experience that time in real life. Remember?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “I did it.” I lean in and whisper, “I time traveled.”

  Liz carefully backs away. “Come again now?”

  Now that I’ve said the words once, they slip off my tongue much faster. “I time traveled.”

  “I…” Liz’s mouth opens and closes. She shakes her head. “What do you mean you time traveled?”

  I stand and pace when I feel the adrenaline coursing through me. “I’m telling you I went back in time. Well, to 1912 specifically.” Whirling around, I face her. “You know I was there when the Titanic sank? Well, I wasn’t there-there, but I saw the newspapers. I was actually in Charleston.”

  “Charleston, South Carolina?”

  I nod vigorously. “Yes. I wore the clothes of that era, brushed shoulders with the elite, walked the streets, carved my name into a tree. I saw it all. I even had a husband.”

  Liz frowns, but I’m too pumped up to care. It feels so good to get this all off my chest. I can’t stop now.

  “His name is Étienne. Remember those boxes you brought in a while back from the flea market? There was a photo of four men, and he was in it. We didn’t get along at first. In fact, I hated him. But then I got to know him better, and now I love him.”

  Liz is silent, absorbing everything I told her. “So you were in 1912, where you had a husband you loved.”

  I nod and faintly smile. “He’s amazing. He’s intimidating to most people, but once you get to know him, you can’t help but fall in love with him.”

  She blinks at me. “How long were you in Charleston?”

  “Almost two months, but when I came back to the present only minutes had passed.” I take a deep breath and smile. “Can you believe it?”

  Liz, my understanding and kind best friend, does not return my smile. She stands and approaches slowly, places her hands on my shoulders, and looks me in the eye. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. I’m just trying to find a way back to Étienne. He’s in trouble and needs my help.”

  “This is quite a story,” she says speculatively.

  I stop and get a good look at my friend. She’s looking around the room, at her feet, at the chair. She looks at everything but me. Liz is such an honest, open person, and the fact that she seems so nervous and closed off should’ve made me nervous. But I was so focused on opening up to her, I didn’t notice.

  Until now.

  “You don’t believe me,” I say numbly.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But I can tell. You think I made this all up.”

  “I think you’re exhausted. We’ve been working long hours, and maybe you’re sleep deprived.” She guides me out of the office and toward the front door. I’m in such shock that this conversation epically backfired that I let her. When we reach the door, she turns and faces me. “I’m your best friend, and I appreciate the fact that you told me this.”

  “That’s what someone says right before they have their loved ones committed.”

  She avoids my gaze. “You know what you need to do?”

  I’m so lost, so desperate for some sort of direction, that I stare at her hopefully. “What?”

  “You need to go home and talk to Will. Your fiancé,” she enunciates the last word slowly. “The one person who loves you the most. Once you do, the two of you will figure everything out.”

  You are so stupid, Serene, my mind whispers. Why did you ever think she would believe you?

  “If you give me a second, I’ll lock up the shop, and walk you back to your apartment.”

  Her words jerk me back to the present. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not a baby. I can walk myself across the street to my damn apartment.”

  The doubt in my best friend’s face causes anger to fester inside me. She thinks I’m crazy. I brush past her toward the back of the store.

  “Where are you going?” she says.

  “I’m getting my stuff,” I mutter as I walk into the office. I grab my purse and coat and an unopened box on the floor that hasn’t been itemized. “I’ll work from home.”

  Liz blocks the entrance. “Serene, I’m—”

 
; I hold up a hand. “Not now. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “When is later?”

  I brush past her. “When you decide to believe what I’m telling you.”

  “You understand what you’re saying is insane, right? You sound like a crazy person!” she calls behind me.

  It is crazy. But it happened. I know it happened, yet I can’t prove it.

  Before I leave the store, I turn around. Liz is standing near the cash register, something akin to fear in her eyes.

  “Fuck off.” I slam the door behind me.

  I’VE BEEN HOME for two hours and have over ten missed calls from Liz. I don’t answer; I have more pressing matters. Like what I’m going to say to Will when he comes home. If I gleaned anything from my conversation with Liz, it’s that I do need to talk to Will and come clean about everything. He deserves to know the truth.

  As I pace, Will walks through the front door and jumps back when he sees me standing in the living room. “God, Serene! You scared the shit out of me.”

  I’m too nervous to smile or even reply. Straight away, Will notices that something’s not quite right. He shuts the front door, keys jangling in his hand, and hurries over to me.

  Loosely, he curls a hand around my wrist. “What’s wrong?”

  He won’t believe you, my mind warns.

  There’s a good chance he won’t, but I need to know that I tried. Even if it costs me the relationship we’ve had for so long.

  Exhaling loudly, I gesture to the couch. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  My palms are sweating so profusely that when I sit down, I discreetly wipe them on my jeans. It doesn’t seem to help.

  Will sits next to me. “What’s up?”

  With my eyes fixed in front of me, I start at the beginning. From finding the photo to time traveling, I tell Will everything. Except for Étienne. I save that part for last because I’m anxious. This could go one of two ways: he’ll believe what I’m saying and be crushed by the fact that I cheated and fell in love with another man, or like Liz, he’ll think I’ve gone completely unhinged.

  I stop to take a deep breath and glance at him from the corner of my eye. His brows are furrowed in confusion. “There’s also something else.”

  Will patiently waits for me to continue.

  “I was married to someone else in 1912. His name was Étienne Lacroix. At first, we couldn’t stand the sight of one another, but over time, we grew to understand each other, and I fell in love.” In desperation for Will to place confidence in what I’m saying, I grab his hands and hold them close to my chest. “Now you know why I was so upset when you threw the photo in the fireplace. It’s my only link to him.”

  Will stares at me, blinking slowly as though he’s seeing me for the first time. He pulls away and rubs the back of his neck. It’s a mannerism he does when he’s pissed off.

  “Do you honestly expect me to believe that?” Will jumps up from the couch. He drags his hands through his hair. “What you’re saying makes you sound crazy. You get that, right? Absolutely fucking crazy.”

  My hands drop into my lap. “You don’t believe me.”

  “No, I don’t believe you because it’s not possible!” he yells.

  I stand and face him. “What could I possibly gain by creating this story, huh?”

  “I don’t know. For starters, how about attention?”

  I throw my hands in the air. “I’m not doing this for attention!”

  Will steps closer. “You can tell me the truth. Am I not spending enough time with you? I know my schedule—”

  “It has nothing to do with attention, and I’m trying to tell you the truth. You just won’t listen.”

  “Oh, I’m listening. That’s the problem.” He backs away and derisively snorts. “I just hope you haven’t opened your mouth and told anyone else this little story.”

  Fuming, I take a deep breath. “I told Liz.”

  His eyes widen, and he stares at me as though I’ve grown three heads. “You told her? You’re fucking nuts!”

  “She’s my best friend.”

  “Ex-best friend if you keep it up.”

  “You know what?” I open my mouth, practically salivating to hurl a string of curse words his way, but I don’t. So many things are being hurled out into the open right now, and I don’t want to say something I’ll regret. That’s the things about words. Once they slip from your lips, you can never get them back. I lift my hands and drop them to my sides in a gesture that says, I give up. I walk toward the bedroom.

  “Don’t walk away. Say what you were gonna say,” Will says.

  Abruptly, I whirl around. “I told you my story because I figured you deserved to know the truth. I was hoping you would listen to what I was saying and truly believe me. That’s all I want because I’m trapped between the past and the present. My life has been put on pause. I’m trying to find the play button, but I can’t. And you know what? It’s terrifying.”

  Will falls back onto the couch and stares at the ceiling. He takes a deep breath before he looks at me. “Serene, I love you. That’s why this story is so worrying. I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about you.”

  “I don’t care what the world thinks of me. I just care what the people I love think about me.”

  “Your fiancé doesn’t believe you.”

  “Then we have a big problem.” I close the bedroom door.

  THE PAST TWENTY-FOUR hours have been tense between Will and me, to say the least. We never fight or have wild, crazy arguments. The majority of the time, we’re cordial to each other.

  The simple relationship we once had is gone. Both of us know it. Neither of us has made a point to talk about it. Our relationship is hanging on by a thread. I imagine that tends to happen when you tell your fiancé that you love another man, but I don’t regret telling him. He has the right to know.

  The only thing I regret is hurting him. He doesn’t deserve that.

  Last night, I slept on the couch. He took the bed.

  This morning he announced he was working from home. The entire day, I’ve felt nothing but his eyes on me, as though he’s waiting for me to go off the handle. It’s inching closer to seven and he’s still hovering around me like a mother hen.

  He thinks I’m fucking crazy.

  It’s almost impossible to reconcile the Will I fell in love with to the man he is now.

  He never changed, my mind whispers. You did.

  Numbly, I’ve gone through the motions of doing inventory on a few items for the store. In my time, I was hardly gone but in Étienne’s world, eight weeks went by. My life has been altered, and with that came changes to my heart. It’s been restructured, and now I see everything differently. Simple tasks that I usually wouldn’t have thought twice over, I now compare to Étienne’s time.

  I spin my engagement ring around my finger. I used to go on Pinterest and look up wedding reception ideas and beautiful locations in Virginia. I no longer do that. Soon I’ll have to give back this ring and explain that he may not believe my story, but I can’t go back to how things used to be. Everything has changed for me.

  Out of nowhere, the door buzzer off. Will and I typically avoid answering the door, but today he’s there, pressing the intercom button with a renewed vigor.

  “Come on in,” is all he says.

  I push back from the kitchen table and twist to face him. “Did you order food?”

  “No.”

  “Then who is it?”

  “Just some friends,” he replies without making eye contact. He tucks his hands into his pockets as he paces between the kitchen entrance and front door.

  I watch him, trying to piece together what’s going on right now. Minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. Will all but runs to the door and flings it open.

  Who is on the other side? My brothers, Bradley and Ian.

  To say this impromptu visit is bizarre and unexpected would be the understatement of the year. My brot
hers and I saw each other months ago. Typically, we talk via group text. Occasionally we call one another. But visiting? Never.

  For a few seconds, all I can do is gawk at them. They smile awkwardly and give Will the signature bro-hug before they ask how he’s doing. They make small talk ranging from the weather to how their drive was. Then my brothers look my way and the energy changes. From their stiff smiles, I know they’re not here because they want to be. Someone has been talking behind my back.

  “Hey, Se. How’s it going?” Ian asks in his jovial voice.

  Instead of answering him, I look at Will. “What’s going on?”

  He doesn’t reply. Instead, he shifts from foot to foot.

  Standing, I cross my arms. “What’s going on?”

  Finally, Will looks at me with guilt and sorrow in his eyes. “I’m worried about you.”

  I stare at him in disbelief. “So you called my brothers?”

  “I didn’t know what else to do! You scared me.”

  “He means well,” Ian says. “Will told us what’s going on. And I think—”

  “You told them?” I cut in.

  Will holds his hands out in front of him as if I’m a wild animal about to attack him. Which just fuels my anger even further. He went behind my back, and who knows how he relayed our conversation to my brothers to cause them to be at my doorstep?

  “I talked to your brothers and we’re all in agreement that maybe you should take some time off from work. They suggested you come back home for the holiday and relax.”

  “Mom and dad would love to see you for Christmas,” Bradley says.

  It’s the day before Christmas Eve. Normally, Will and I always have Christmas with one of our family’s. It’s clear to see that’s not happening this year. I’ve been so consumed with Étienne to even think about the holidays.

  “And how long do you all think I should ‘relax’ for?”

  The three of them stare at each other.

  Ian speaks on behalf of their newfound trio. “For however long you want.”

  I can’t believe this. It’s bad enough that I haven’t figured out a way to get back to Étienne. Even worse that I have no one to vent and explain my story to. I’m in a lose-lose position.