Wealth of Time

by Andre Gonzalez

  Martin brushed his thoughts aside. Dreams are nothing but a collection of subconscious thoughts. He knew this, as his mother was big into analyzing dreams, but she always reminded him of this simple fact.

  There was no Izzy, no Larkwood Middle School posing as Columbine High School, no locked doors that led into darkness. Izzy was always on his mind, and being so close to the actual events that followed her disappearance, the details came back vividly from wherever they had lain dormant after all these years.

  “Just a dream.”

  He looked over and was relieved to see he hadn’t woken Sonya as she continued her light snoring. Today would be the longest day of her life and she needed to be as rested as a cat on a Sunday afternoon.

  Was it a sign? he wondered. What if Chris put that dream in my head? Considering everything that had happened so far, it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination for the old man to do such a thing. But why would he have given Martin this opportunity to come back in time only to be told to go back home when the time came? Just a dream.

  Martin lay back down, the damp sheets now cold on his flesh as he stared into the darkness of the bedroom. Today is the day your life changed forever. It’s not the anniversary of the day where you drink a little more to bury the pain. It’s the actual day and you’re living in it. Save her life, save your life, and go back home.

  Martin would toss and turn for another two hours before falling into a light sleep. Shortly after, the sun rose from the eastern plains, cracking dawn on the morning of September 9th, 1996.

  46

  Chapter 46

  Martin woke several hours later to find it was almost noon, sleeping while Sonya would have dressed and gotten ready for her final day at school. He panicked at first, worried that he had slept through something important, but relaxed once he remembered that he had nothing to do until that night.

  One last day of waiting around.

  He expected the suspense to kill him. What could he possibly do to make the day pass, knowing what awaited when the sun went down? The game plan was set: Sonya would follow Izzy home one final time to make sure she didn’t venture off, come straight home to meet Martin for a dinner that would surely go untouched, then return to watch the Briar house until the sun went down and Martin would show up in his all-black camouflage for a front row seat to the big show.

  Martin warned Sonya of a boring stakeout. Every report Lela had filed in those following days mentioned that Izzy had to have gone out in the middle of the night—she had kissed her goodnight just after nine before turning in for bed herself. All he could rely on now was Lela’s word from 22 years earlier.

  The one good thing about suffering such a tragedy was the ability to remember every single detail. He could practically recite Lela’s police statements after all of these years and hundreds of bottles of whiskey.

  When he finally got out of bed, a lump filled his body from his intestines up to his throat, and would stay there all day, thanks to the nerves that refused to settle down. This caused a lost appetite and a constant urge to sit on the toilet and pray for it all to end.

  He didn’t bother with breakfast or lunch, instead stepping outside with hopes of passing the time and taking his mind off the night ahead. Some flowers in Sonya’s garden needed final tending before they would close up shop for the upcoming winter, so he poked around with some lilies to find that a whole twenty minutes had passed.

  Is there anything left that I need to get done? Martin ran through a mental checklist of things he needed to have done before returning to 2018, and for the first time he welcomed the thought of returning home, not knowing if he could bear the stress of another day in the past.

  Everything was in order. He had invested money to cover his life in 2018, and had his return pill ready in his pocket, buried deep in the bottom where it had no chance of wiggling out. He had decided it would be best to keep the pill on his body rather than leaving it at the house. There was a chance he would need to make a quick decision and take the pill, having no time to return home, but the original plan was to convene at home after saving Izzy and decide when they would want to make the trip into the future.

  Martin returned inside to find his body randomly trembling and his teeth chattering. He couldn’t recall ever being so nervous. He shuffled into the living room and threw himself on the couch.

  Relax. This is what you came here for. Did you think the day wouldn’t actually come?

  The way his life was going before he had swallowed that pill, he thought he’d have a few weeks to live before dying from alcohol poisoning or a self-inflicted gunshot. He never expected the past to provide a cure for his escalating alcoholism.

  What if I relapse in 2018?

  He had considered this possibility before, but didn’t know how much stock to put into it. Did the past really cure him? Or did he take advantage of a fresh start in a familiar era? He believed the latter. Besides, whatever happened tonight would change the course of his life in 2018. He could wake up and no longer have to go to the post office. Maybe he really did catch a break and would live in Littleton if his daughter had never disappeared. His own life could look unrecognizable, and the thought didn’t help settle his nerves.

  If everything went smoothly and he saved Izzy, returned to 2018 with Sonya, and no longer had an itch to drink every bottle of booze in sight, there was still Chris. What exactly did he mean by taking away Martin’s ability to feel emotions?

  If someone tells a joke, will I no longer laugh? If someone dies, will I no longer cry? What precisely does it mean and how severe will it be?

  He feared becoming a zombie, a shell of his current self, for Sonya. He had an obligation to keep her happy and safe in 2018, and anything less than that would result in a lifetime of regret for her.

  I’m gonna marry that woman when we get to 2018. And we’ll have the most luxurious honeymoon.

  While wedding bells would have to wait, Martin at least had something positive to look forward to, should everything go horribly wrong tonight. He still couldn’t rid his mind of Izzy telling him to go home, and deep down felt it was a sign that he’d be right back at square one after tonight: clueless as to what had happened and left with another two decades of heartache that would tear apart his soul like a vulture on a dead animal’s carcass.

  Snap out of it. You’ll only fail tonight if you keep having these negative thoughts. Get your shit together and be confident.

  “Easier said than done.” He never had soaring confidence, even before his life had taken a turn for the worst. His only confidence in 2018 came in knowing that a hangover awaited him in the morning if he dared drink another bottle of whiskey.

  The thought of pouring what remained in Sonya’s alcohol stash had crossed his mind—the nerves had taken full control, after all—but he couldn’t push himself to put his entire mission at risk. What if he passed out on the couch while Sonya went on her stakeout, and he missed the whole thing?

  Go one more night without it, and you can drink all you want tomorrow. A new life begins soon. One with money, and no job to go to. Just a full bank account and a woman who loves you, and hopefully, a daughter who thinks the world of you.

  Martin pushed the negativity aside and tried to imagine a universe where he, Sonya, and Izzy all lived in 2018. A world where they could laugh over dinner for having pulled off the impossible and reflect back to this specific day as the moment that shaped all of their good fortune.

  These thoughts settled his nerves a bit, although not completely. He had passed a good amount of time and didn’t realize the clock on the wall read 2:45. Sonya would be off work within the next hour to follow Izzy home for the final time.

  The time was finally here, and he just needed to hang on to his last shred of sanity for a few more hours.

  47

  Chapter 47

  Sonya wished her students a great rest of their evenings. The 3:15 bell had struck within the last minute, and Ms. Griffiths had her class ready
to head out immediately.

  “Bye, kids,” she said while they herded out of the room and into the traffic jam in the hallway. She loved her eighth graders and felt a pull in her chest at the thought of never seeing them again with their big glasses, pimply faces, and squeaky voices.

  Time for vacation? she thought. While the workday certainly had that final-day-before-vacation feel, she had to fight off the thought of what was actually happening within the next handful of hours. At home, Martin was probably a nervous wreck. She’d noticed how much more distant he seemed as this day had grown closer, and she was partially glad to be at work instead of home with him all day.

  If he’s this nervous, is it really best to be going with him?

  Her mind had refused to fully accept that she was leaving her life in 1996 behind to run off with a man she had recently met, but wasn’t taking a chance sometimes all you could do? She didn’t have any serious intent on staying behind, but the thought wouldn’t quite leave her alone.

  She glanced at the clock with studious eyes. 3:20. It’s time.

  Her classroom had actually emptied in five minutes, a new record. Normally a couple students would hang back to ask for help, or maybe a parent or two would drop in for a quick word. But today was her lucky day, despite a longing for something to stall her from leaving and officially starting the next chapter of life.

  She had parked on the rear side of the school this morning so she could easily slip out of her classroom’s back door and remain uninterrupted en route to her car. She grabbed her purse and paused, looking over her classroom that she had called home for the last twelve years. The vacant desks looked back at her sadly, begging her not to leave. The chalkboard had been freshly cleaned by her students and showed her the blank canvass that awaited on the other side of the door. Her students’ artwork hung on the walls, giving the room a homey feel.

  In two short weeks she had already formed a bond with her students that only a teacher would understand. Her students loved her, and she loved them.

  Please don’t be hurt when I’m gone.

  Martin hadn’t given her a clear answer on what would happen after she arrived in 2018. The thought of her students showing up tomorrow morning to an empty classroom with no word from their teacher tugged on every moral string in her body. Martin had promised she could get a teaching job in the future, but how similar would it be? Schools had already changed drastically since the time she was a student, and now with all the technology on the rise, would her job mainly consist of how to use computers?

  She realized that she was getting ahead of herself, and blew a kiss to her abandoned classroom. “I promise it’ll be okay,” she said to the desks, and turned out the back door.

  Some students ran around like uncaged animals on the open grass field between the school and the parking lot and she maneuvered her way through them like a native New Yorker pushing their way through Times Square.

  She pulled her car around the building and found Izzy approaching the schoolyard’s outer gate like clockwork. Izzy had apparently been a child of strict routine, going through the same exact motions every day in the way she packed her backpack and re-tied her shoes for her walk home.

  Sonya crept down the road at a snail’s pace as she waited for Izzy to cross the street. Keep a safe distance.

  Martin had assured her that she had a much longer leash than he. Sonya actually existed in Izzy’s current life, so if she accidentally drew attention to herself it wouldn’t have a negative effect like it would if Izzy saw her father from the future.

  Sonya kept close to the sidewalk and watched Izzy finally cross the street in her familiar pose with her hands crossed over her books and, this time, two pigtails bouncing behind her head with every step.

  Sonya had gone through this same routine for the past week, but felt an extra flood of adrenaline today. What if something did happen right now? What if a creep in a van pulled in front of her and followed Izzy all the way home? It was only a two-block route and it would be impossible for an innocent child to be aware of a stalker. Sonya had done it every day, after all, with not so much as a glance over the shoulder from Izzy.

  What exactly would you do if someone else got involved at this point?

  Sonya had played out the scenario in her mind, and vowed to intervene should danger present itself. She kept a crow bar in her trunk and wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Part of her hoped this would happen. If she could save Izzy before Martin had to get involved, they could return to a hopefully normal evening while they figured out their next steps.

  Sonya turned onto Cherry Street and kept a distance of five car lengths behind Izzy as she trudged down the sidewalk. Her eyes bounced from the rear view to the left and right sides of the road in search of anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing but cars parked on the street and lawns covered with the first layer of browning leaves.

  Izzy strolled along at the same pace as any other day, minding her business, oblivious to the teacher trailing behind. Sonya had never actually spoken to Izzy, but had seen her around the hallways in between classes. She kept to herself for the most part, occasionally giggling with two other girls during lunch and recess. Sonya had considered asking Izzy’s teacher, Mrs. Weller, her opinion on Izzy, but decided it best to keep quiet should anything go awry.

  By the time Izzy arrived home, Sonya’s mind had drifted so far that she had to speed up to see the young girl step inside her house. She drove two houses down and waited for five minutes to see if anything would happen.

  Sonya’s heart raced at the thought that she might have just been the last person to see Izzy (aside from Martin’s ex-wife) before she went missing. “Well, I guess that’s that,” she said into her empty car. So far, the day had gone according to plan. Izzy was home safe, undisturbed, and likely diving into her piles of homework. Sonya drove to the end of the block and took the long route home where she and Martin would sit down for a brief dinner before she’d return to watch the Briar house until nightfall.

  Martin had insisted that she leave once he arrived—he’d be walking over—but she was starting to think she might want to stick around and see what happened. Besides, it would be beneficial for Martin to have a car handy in case he needed to chase someone down in another vehicle, or possibly flee the scene. This was one thing he had refused, claiming he would stop anything from even reaching that point. But she liked to prepare for any situation that might arise. If they didn’t need the car, then no harm done. But if Martin found himself in a bind in the middle of the night while someone drove away with his daughter, what would he do? Chase them on foot?

  She pulled into her driveway and took a deep breath, knowing a long night was ahead.

  * * *

  When Sonya entered the house, tension mixed in the air with deafening silence.

  “Martin?” she called. The smells of baked bread rushed to her nose, sweet and tempting, despite her lack of appetite.

  From the doorway she could see the kitchen, living room, and a glimpse into their bedroom. He wasn’t in any of them.

  He wouldn’t have made me dinner and left. Dear Sonya, I changed my mind and am going back to 2018 without you, she thought, then giggled nervously. He hadn’t been himself over the weekend, so she gave the thought heavy consideration.

  “Martin, I’m home!” She shouted with more energy.

  She dragged herself into the kitchen, where the bread scent was strongest, and felt an instant relief when she saw Martin’s figure through the back window. He appeared to be rocking on one of the patio chairs, staring over the lawn that would be covered in blankets of snow in the coming months.

  Sonya went outside and sat in the rocker next to Martin. He looked up to her and offered a warm smile.

  “How was your day?” he asked, flat and distant.

  “It was okay. Tough saying goodbye. How was yours?”

  He rocked more before replying, and Sonya noticed how much of a shell he was of himself from just two we
eks ago. He had lost a notable amount of weight, dark circles covered the spaces beneath his eyes, and thick streaks of gray had filled in across his scalp.

  He traveled back 20 years only to age another 20 years.

  She thought she wanted this all to be over, but Martin clearly needed it to be finished. Hopefully he’d have what he wanted in a few hours and could sleep easily.

  “I’ve been losing my mind today,” he said. “I’ve done so much thinking and I feel like I can’t form another viable thought. I’ve never been so nervous for anything in my life.”

  She heard a tremble in his voice, but there was no visible sign of a pending cry, just the ragged expression of a man who has reached his breaking point.

  “When I first got here I thought September 9th was so far away. It got here fast, and I know it’ll pass just as quickly. Tomorrow will be here before I even realize it, and by then I’ll know if my life stays the same or becomes what it was meant to be before all this shit happened.”

  Sonya wanted to suggest that maybe his life had become how it was meant to be. Martin stared at the ground as he spoke and was clearly riding his final train of thought.

  “It’s so hard going into this and not knowing what to expect. I need to be ready to react to anything. I don’t know how many times I’ve imagined my own death today. I know that shouldn’t be at the front of my mind, but it is. I have to acknowledge it as a real possibility.”

  He stopped talking and stared to the ground where a roly-poly crawled slowly along the concrete. Sonya didn’t know what to say to address his fears of death, but knew she needed to give him some comfort.

  “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through today, but just know that I’ll be here every step of the way. You’re not alone.”

  She reached over and rubbed his arm, and felt a slight tremble coming from it.