by Abra Ebner
Looking around the neighborhood, I was relieved to see that no one was around to witness what I was about to do; not that it mattered anyway. I walked up the drive, where I knelt behind Kenzie’s mother’s car. I took a deep breath and peered around the bumper, looking into the front windows, seeing there was no movement. Exhaling, I stood and walked a circle around the car, discreetly piercing the knife through each tire, flattening them as the air squealed through the slits.
The neighborhood dogs began to bark, and I quickly ran around the back of their house toward the kitchen window were I saw her mother look toward the front door, a concerned frown on her face. She wiped her hands with her apron, leaving the pie she was about to place in the oven on the counter. I smiled, finding that though it was wrong, it was also fun to watch.
Kenzie sat at the other end of the counter at age seven with a bowl of cereal, unfazed by her mother’s worries, her face still beautiful and her eyes full of happiness and hope for the future. I heard a yelp from the front of the house and saw Kenzie jump, her eyes lifting from her bowl to the front door, her mouth hanging open.
Kenzie’s mother stormed in then. “These neighborhood hooligans,” she muttered.
“What’s wrong, mommy?” Kenzie dropped her spoon and swallowed a mouthful of Cheerios, placing her doll on the counter and adjusting her doll’s dress.
“Oh, nothing, honey,” She grabbed the phone from the wall and began dialing. After a pause she opened her mouth. “Hi, doctor LeRoy? We need to cancel our appointment. There’s been an incident here. Can we reschedule?”
A smile grew across my face. It had worked. Feeling content, I snuck back out from behind the house and walked down the street toward my own. Walking through the tall weeds and into the backyard, I quickly tried to imagine what the intersection at Southampton and Massachusetts Avenue looked like, getting there just a few moments later as I appeared in the street out of thin air, my arms flailing as they tried to pull through time. I winced as a large semi blew its horn on the street, masking the noise I had made as I crashed through time.
A bum that was resting in the doorway I had ducked into jolted up from his sleep and looked at me with shock, appearing drunk and confused. I gave him a hard stare as the pain in my bones subsided, threatening him in a way that made him shut up and look away. He receded into his grungy sleeping bag, where I heard the clank of glass bottles and tin cans.
I leaned against the building, watching the people pass by. After about an hour, I saw the semi-truck that had caused the accident come down the street, stopping at the light, and then heading on as though nothing had ever happened. I always liked to watch the things I had changed, half out of ego and half to make sure I hadn’t harmed someone else by doing so.
Content, I left the streets and ducked into a dark alleyway, headed out of this time and into another, anxious to see Kenzie again. I had put an end to one path of her life, leaving nothing but the life she now lived. It felt good to purge it away, erase the pain and start over. It was time to concentrate on the future now, and make the shift to a better life.
Statement from Dr. Ashcroft,
Vincent Memorial Hospital, Boston
August 3, 2009
01:56 a.m.
Dr. Ashcroft:
So that’s it, that was who slashed our tires. (pause) Did you know my mother was so furious that she called up the local news and had them report that there was a gang out there, vandalizing the neighborhoods?
Agent Donnery:
Really? Now that’s funny.
Dr. Ashcroft:
I suppose it is, if not a little drastic and a little too easy perhaps. I can’t believe a few flat tires were all it took to change my fate.
Agent Donnery:
So what really happened? What happened in your real life? Where is that part where he let you remember meeting him?
Dr. Ashcroft:
Well, he came back to that same day when I had originally met him at the bus stop, except now I was beautiful. You should know how weird that felt, as though someone had taken tracing paper and copied the life in my dreams, but added onto it. My life felt layered that day, and I see why now.
Agent Donnery:
Well, I can say this at least. It seems Jordan had a thing for busses.
Dr. Ashcroft:
You know, I never saw it that way, but you’re right. The first two times I met him, he was on a bus.
Agent Donnery:
Nostalgic man, I suppose.
Dr. Ashcroft:
(laughter)
Told by Dr. Ashcroft,
Stories from the journals of Patient #32185
November 12th, 1994
7:32 a.m.
I was running now, my pink dress fluttering in the wind and my black patent shoes slapping against the cement with little traction. Since my house was right on the corner, there was no point in waiting at the bus stop. Besides, my mother finally allowed me to buy mascara, and I wanted to try it on. My chest was burning as I arrived at the stop, just in time to see the bus barreling over the hill, headed toward the stop.
Slowing as I arrived at the corner, my shoes slipped across the road and I had to flail my arms to balance myself. When I looked up, I noticed for the first time I was not alone. A boy stood there, his back straight and his hands clasped in front of him. He looked at me from the corner of his eye, and I tried my best to stand tall and look somewhat gathered. The bus screeched to a halt and the stop sign squeaked out from under the driver’s window as the new boy took the first step toward the bus.
As we walked around the front toward the doors, I watched his stride, noticing how confident and unfazed it seemed. I had never seen him before, but I knew there was a vacant house on our street, and I wondered if he had moved in with his family, or if he had simply come from one of the adjoining neighborhoods, hoping to outsmart the bus.
I hooked my thumbs into the straps of my backpack and prepared myself for the barrage I would receive from my friends on the bus. Another day meant another day of having to act fake, and I hated it. Sometimes I wished people would just leave me alone, sometimes I wished I were ugly. I stopped then, noticing the boy was waiting for me.
“After you.” He looked me directly in the eye, allowing me to go first, but I shook my head.
“Oh no, after you.” I gestured with my hand out and giggled, noticing he was sort of cute.
He smiled and went up the steps, and I followed after, the driver watching us with a blank stare that suggested he could care less. As we walked down the aisle, my friends stood and waved at me as though competing to see who would win the chance to be my seat mate on the ride to school.
“Kenzie, sit here!” they begged.
I sighed. I hated this part of the morning. I hated being popular, but what could I do? All I really wanted was to sit alone. Sometimes I wished I were invisible.
The new boy took a seat toward the middle, the last empty one. I bit my lip as a strange feeling washed over me, and I looked at the empty spot beside him. My palms were sweating in a way they never had before, and for the first time in a while I began to feel nervous. He didn’t look directly at me, but I knew he saw me; every boy always did. I blinked then and looked over my shoulder at the driver watching in the rearview mirror, a sour look on his face and his patience running thin. Taking a deep breath, I walked toward the boy as all my friends pouted at me, sinking back into their seats in defeat.
“May I sit here?” My voice cracked.
The boy let out a snort as he looked out the window, slowly turning to face me with a strange but amused look on his face. “Of course…” His voice trailed off as he moved his tattered bag into his lap and shifted over.
I sat and situated myself a safe distance from him, his green coat engulfing much of the seat but making his body seem large and mature. He looked older than I, but that didn’t matter. At ten, I was just discovering the world of boys, and I liked it. He was just the excuse I needed to get away from ever
yone. I watched him as the bus lurched forward. There was something about him, something I knew but couldn’t understand. Goose bumps erupted across my arms, and I was quick to hide them, feeling shy for the first time in my life.
Pressing my lips together and drawing a deep breath through my nose, I pressed my hand toward him and brushed my long auburn hair away from my shoulder with the other. “Hi, I’m Kenzie.” My friends gawked at me over the backs of the seats, but I ignored them.
He smiled then, his eyes sparkling in a way I’d never seen from anyone before. “I know.”
Statement from Dr. Ashcroft,
Vincent Memorial Hospital, Boston
August 3, 2009
02:01 a.m.
Agent Donnery:
So he slashed a few tires, and that was it? Sorry to reiterate, but you’re right. It seemed too easy.
Dr. Ashcroft:
Yep.
Agent Donnery:
And then he was cocky enough to come back and meet you on the bus like that?
Dr. Ashcroft:
He was still young then, and he hadn’t yet decided whether or not he wanted me to know him, or know what he was doing. Eventually, though, it was no longer his choice.
Agent Donnery:
I still don’t understand how the high school test incident could happen first, then the scars.
Dr. Ashcroft:
A timeline is hard to explain and understand, but if you can wrap your head around it then you’ll see. He once explained it to me in college. At the time I had thought to myself that it was eerily perfect when it pertained to the memories I had been having, but I said nothing, just as he said nothing to me for all these years.
Jordan already had the intent to change the scars, and fate already knew he would, just as fate can formulate a future for him to travel to. So because fate already knew that he would be going back in time to change the past, then two lifelines were created for me. In one life I had scars and in the other life I didn’t, but I only remember the life where I didn’t because that was the life he eventually decided for me, and the other one died out.
These are the parallel lives. Jordan Shifted between these two if he needed, in order to determine which things to change and which to keep normal. If you think about it, every time our life offers us a decision, two paths are created from it like a web.
Agent Donnery:
I see. You mean to say that I could go get a cup of coffee right now or not, so fates already created two paths for me: the one that gets coffee and the one that doesn’t.
Dr. Ashcroft:
Exactly, but for you, it’s still your choice. This is the choice that was stolen from me. I was never given the second option. For Jordan, it was always the decision to get coffee, so to speak.
Agent Donnery:
This may seem unprofessional, but do you want some?
Dr. Ashcroft:
(pause) Sure.
Statement from Dr. Ashcroft,
Vincent Memorial Hospital, Boston
August 3, 2009
02:09 p.m.
Agent Donnery:
Better?
Dr. Ashcroft:
Yes, thank you.
Agent Donnery:
So tell me about college. How did that go?
Dr. Ashcroft:
By then I suppose you could say Jordan had known me for twelve years, but I still didn’t know I knew him, at least on this life path. During pre-med at Boston College, not much happened. I remained with Max though I knew there were better things out there, but as a pre-med student I also didn’t have time to date or even deal with a break up, so I just put our relationship on autopilot.
After pre-med, I finally made it to Harvard as I’d always planned, and I felt like a new person, free from all the popularity and expectations of my youth. When I moved across from Boston College to Harvard, my relationship with Max began to crumble, and I don’t think he liked it. I knew there were things he did behind my back, but I figured if I was dumping him anyway, what did it really matter?
Besides my personal life, it was here, at Harvard, that I began to have the intense memories and dreams, and when I saw Jordan there for the first time, it triggered something. I know now that he was always watching me, but nothing horrible in my life had arose since the test incident in high school, so there was no need for him to make himself seen, or create a Shift for my life during my time at Boston College.
Agent Donnery:
So your brain made an imprint of him from your dreams, like déjà vu?
Dr. Ashcroft:
Exactly. At this point the dreams were so frequent that he could no longer hide. It felt as though I’d spent a lifetime with Jordan in my dreams, but because things were blurry, I had no idea who he was, and he had no idea I knew about him. I believe this was when things began to get dicey for him, too, and he began to get clumsy.
Told by Dr. Ashcroft
September 31, 2005
5:58 p.m.
“Max, give me a break.” I held the phone to my ear. I was so over him, so tired of his childish behavior. I had put up with it through pre-med at Boston College, but now I no longer had the patience.
“You really do think you’re better than me, just because you’re there.” I heard him laugh in the jealous way he always did.
“Max, seriously. You chose football at Boston College and now I’ve chosen Harvard. Can’t you understand my angle on this? That I am doing something I’ve always wanted?” My flip flops pounded against the pavement as I headed back to my dorm. “Besides, Boston College is right next door! We’re not that far away and you’ll see me just the same as before. You only have one year left anyway, and you’re going to be so busy with pro scouts and training, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“Yeah, well, you haven’t even made the effort to come see me this week, not even at practice.” He was whining now.
“Max, you know how crazy the first week at Harvard med can be! I don’t have the time.” I sighed, knowing that was a lie.
“Whatever Kenzie, I’ve got to go.” I could hear the sass in his voice; the sass of a man that had been pampered his whole life.
“Yeah, fine.” I hung up then, refusing to allow him to hang up first. I grumbled as I tossed my phone back into my bag, pulling it up on my shoulder with a feeling of irritation.
This week had been my first at Harvard, and it had been tough on my relationship with Max. Through college, I had stayed with him because what else was there? But now that I was here, I wanted to be free. I took a deep breath and looked up at the ancient trees, smiling and finding the silver lining.
I had been given a blessed life, but I wasn’t sure I liked it. Everyone had always expected things from me, always assumed. I was the person who was always meant to be the Homecoming Queen, the cheerleader, and I played the part, but I never felt it was me. Being here was my chance to change all that, to become someone new; someone mysterious and troubled, perhaps?
I arrived back at my dorm where I unlocked the door, looking around the room and seeing my roommate was not yet back. I threw my bag on my bed and slumped into the desk chair in front of the expensive computer the school had supplied for me because of my scholarship. I let out a heavy breath, causing a stack of flyers to flutter on my desk. My mother had wanted me to join any number of clubs while I was here, but I wanted nothing to do with it, so I grabbed the pile of flyers and threw them in the trash.
There was a loud slamming noise as the door to my room shook. I heard Amy curse under her breath and the jingling of keys as she unlocked the door.
“I can’t seem to get used to these auto-lock doors,” She looked flustered as she walked into the room.
“Hey Amy,” I gave her a half-hearted wave. Amy was my roommate, and until this past summer, she was someone I could never imagine being friends with, but now that I knew her, I saw that I wished I had more friends like her from the beginning. She was an English scholar, and hopelessly clumsy, but her ins
atiable need for fun amazed me. Though she looked like your run of the mill nerd, she was far from it. It seemed as though she had two sides, the one she went to class with, and the one she went to college parties with.
There was no lack of things to do at Harvard, and I was surprised to find that most nights there was always a party. Amy loved to go out, whether to the local pub for a beer or the craziest party the boxing team could throw. I never understood why she hid herself away until the moon rose, but it made sense. Amy was gorgeous, but during the day she draped her body with frumpy cotton and covered her face with large glasses. At night, the change was astounding, as though she were a werewolf.
The first day when I met her, I was a little surprised. I had pictured her as someone different over the phone. It was that night when she pulled out her “evening wear” that I realized she had a dark side. She was one year older than me so she took it upon herself to be the leader and introduced me to the hidden world behind the Ivy League exterior of Harvard. So far it had been a whirlwind, but I liked it. I never told Max that I had already met far superior men, but I had promised him I’d try to make it work, though in reality I was no longer sure I even wanted to.