by Abra Ebner
Her words were eerie but true, and I bowed my head. She nodded and I took it as my cue to leave, so I pushed past her and went into the restroom, finally getting my chance to pee. When I came back out, she was gone, though I still felt her presence watching me from somewhere nearby. I scanned the crowd but did not see the familiar sweatshirt. I felt my heart sink. A hand grabbed my arm and I jumped, turning around and coming face to face with Kenzie.
“Oh, there you are. Did you fall in? The race is about to start!” She was jumping up and down with excitement. I laughed, forgetting Molly as I took her hand and we walked to the rail where we stood as the horses rattled in the gate, anxious to run as they loved to do.
The trumpet played and Kenzie was beaming. It was nice to see her so happy, perhaps the happiest I had ever seen her in all her life; or rather, lives. I saw then that this was truly meant to be, that we were destined to be here in this life together, at this moment.
The gun went off and the gates opened. The horses leapt onto the track, mud flying in their wake. To my surprise, I saw Big Brown at the back, slow out of the gate. I chuckled to myself as Da’ Tara sped for the lead, thinking of Molly and the fact that this win was pure luck for the first time in my life.
I reached into my pocket where I felt for the ring, rolling it around in my fingers. I took a deep breath and pulled it out as the horses rounded the track, my gaze now stolen by its beauty and its meaning. I wanted to do this before the excitement of winning. I wanted to make sure she knew that it was for love, not money. I nudged Kenzie as the ring sat in my palm, grabbing her hand. I let go then, leaving the ring behind as a strange look crossed her face. I watched her in amusement as her brow crinkled.
The horses had made it half a mile now, but she pulled her attention away from them and to the ring, all life dissolving around us and leaving only the sound of our hearts beating. She gazed at it in her hand for what felt a long while, her face frozen and her eyes reflecting the light from the diamond.
She looked at me. “Really?”
I nodded. “Really.”
The crowd around us came screaming back, the sound now deafening as a smile grew on Kenzie’s face. A voice boomed over the speakers, announcing the winner, “Da’Tara wins the two thousand and eight Belmont Stakes.”
Her face did not flinch when she heard it, instead she remained focused on the ring, plucking it from her hand and placing it on her finger. Her eyes welled with tears.
“I love you, Kenzie, always have and always will.” I touched her cheek where a tear began to fall.
“Always, Jordan,” and she kissed me, pulling back moments later with a big smile on her face. “And we won!”
I laughed as the joy in her bubbled over and she jumped up and down in circles, the spectators beside us watching her as though she had gone stark mad. I glanced past her where I saw the crowd part, and Molly stood along the rail, her arm leaning against it in a relaxed pose. Though her eyes were hidden under her hood, she could not hide the fact that she was smiling. I smiled back, giving her a wink before she turned and walked away.
“Jordan,” Kenzie stopped bouncing and touched my arm. “How much did we win exactly?” She looked confused but cute.
My mouth felt dry at the thought, afraid to say it. “Almost a million dollars,” I grinned.
“Are you serious?” She started jumping up and down again, her eyes even wider than before.
I nodded with a cool look on my face, trying my best to stay calm though it felt good to finally live. I had to admit, her choice on a horse with 38/1 odds was no longer anything to frown about. And after all, it was a good present for the future, a future that was still a lie, but by now it was a lie I felt I could live with.
Statement from Dr. Ashcroft,
Vincent Memorial Hospital, Boston
August 4, 2009
04:59 a.m.
Agent Donnery:
There she was again, though.
Dr. Ashcroft:
(pause) Sorry, Agent. I’m just shocked.
Agent Donnery:
Something horrible was about to happen, wasn’t it? Was it this? You in the hospital, and Jordan…
Dr. Ashcroft:
Yes. Yes, I believe so.
Agent Donnery:
But he did nothing to try and find out what it was from Molly?
Dr. Ashcroft:
I often caught him sitting in the library in deep thought, but when I asked him about it, he blew it off. I suppose he was worried about the outcome, worried he would die if he tried to Shift to the future to see. As far as I know, Molly never told him, she never came back, but then again, I didn’t even know about Molly to begin with.
Agent Donnery:
Of course. So then, what was it that made him finally decide to Shift?
Dr. Ashcroft:
I think you know, Agent.
Agent Donnery:
Well, I can see that, but where was Molly in all this? Why didn’t she stop it?
Dr. Ashcroft:
I honestly don’t know. After reading all this, you’d think she would have tried, especially when she wanted to save him and their kind. Why invest the time, then let him die?
Agent Donnery:
And you haven’t seen her at all?
Dr. Ashcroft:
(pause) No.
Agent Donnery:
Tell me then, what happened next?
Dr. Ashcroft:
We got married in the summer, too anxious to wait much longer. It was a beautiful day; rainy, but still beautiful. After that, we settled into a routine. He never did go get a job, though. He never wanted one. I always felt he was waiting for the right thing to come along, something that fulfilled him in a manner that would bring joy to his life, much like my work as a doctor did. Besides, since the race, we really didn’t need to work. I just continued because I loved it, and he respected that. For me, it was fun.
Agent Donnery:
So he sat at home all day?
Dr. Ashcroft:
(laughter) Hardly. He was always doing something. Always tinkering with his bikes or going to the nearby park. He liked to run and play tennis as well.
Agent Donnery:
What about the bruise on his stomach. What did you think?
Dr. Ashcroft:
Honestly? I just figured he had a residual scar, tissue that had been so damaged that it remained grey and dark. It’s not unheard of. He told me that it was from that night at the Rugby House. So, I never thought otherwise. If I had known he had literally micro-waved his organs to the point that they were holding on by a thread, I certainly would have never let him drink as he did.
Agent Donnery:
Certainly that did little to help the healing.
Dr. Ashcroft:
No, it didn’t, but it’s not like he drank much, not when his father had the alcoholic gene. He typically only had one drink a day, unless it was a bad day.
Agent Donnery:
What were his bad days like?
Dr. Ashcroft:
Just depressing. He would recede into the study and sit for hours. About once a year it happened, right around the anniversary of his mother’s death, which I understood.
Agent Donnery:
Did your parents love him?
Dr. Ashcroft:
Like their son. They still do. I haven’t told them about Jordan’s secrets yet because I figure it would scare them. Besides, they have enough to worry about right now, considering the circumstances.
Agent Donnery:
So what next? What happened?
Dr. Ashcroft:
He got restless.
Stories from the journals
of Patient #32185
December 15, 2008
02:38 p.m.
“There you are. Have you seen how much snow here is outside?” I took a few steps into the room and halted.
He looked up from the book he was reading. “Oh yeah, look at that.”
I sighed, sensing he w
as in another mood. “Are you doing alright?”
He looked at me, his face drawn. “Yeah, sure.”
He always tried to hide it from me, but I knew. “No you’re not. What’s going on?” I sat in the leather chair beside his as he closed his book and placed it on his lap.
“Do you still dream like you did in college?” He breathed slowly.
I shrugged, wondering where the question came from. “Sure, from time to time, but a lot less now than before, and I no longer have dreams about events that could have happened, the déjà vu stuff. It’s all repeats now, and that’s all.”
He nodded. “Well, that’s good.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Do you ever wish you could still see those things, though? I mean, do you miss that other life of yours?”
I looked back at the book he was reading, noting it was The Time Machine by H.G. Wells. “Is that why?” I pointed to the book. “I doubt my dreams had to do with time travel.”
He shook his head. “No, that’s not it.” He flipped the book over and stashed it away. “I was just wondering if you missed your dreams, that other life you told me about.”
I tilted my head and looked toward the stacks of books on the wall. “Sure, at times, but I also enjoy getting a good night’s sleep.” I leaned forward in my chair and put one hand on his knee. “That life was never real. I figure it was my mind’s way of coping with the popular life I was subjected to growing up, and once all that ended in college, so did the dreaming.”
He looked at me. “You didn’t like your childhood?”
I shrugged. “It’s not that I didn’t like it, it’s just that it was a burden at times. But it was a burden for the Kenzie in my dreams as well. She had other issues to face that caused equal pain. She just seemed freer, that’s all.”
He let out a long, sorrowful breath, and picked up The Time Machine once more. “I was just thinking about how he tried to save his fiancé so many times, but no matter what, she still ended up dead. She was meant to die.”
“Well, sure. You can’t change fate, Jordan. It is what it is, one way or another. Like I said, the person in my dreams suffered in a different way. She suffered for her looks, her bad luck, and her failed career. I suffered for my looks in the same way, but opposite, and though I love my career, it has its pressures and a certain honor that I have to uphold.” I leaned back in the leather as it creaked in protest. “Jordan, life is what it is, people die and people suffer.”
He nodded. “It’s true, there was never anything I could do to try and save my mother. No matter what, she was meant to die.”
This week was the anniversary of her death, and I feared this week more than any other every year. Losing her had taken something out of him, something I could never understand. “I know you may wish that you could go and change things, Jordan, but it won’t. Saving her won’t make things better. I need you here with me now, and she wants that for you as well.”
His jaw tightened.
I looked away from him, figuring I’d said enough.
“No, it’s just, I…” he paused and sat forward. “I’ve lived a unique life, Kenzie.”
“Of course you have, Jordan. I know…”
He cut me off. “But you don’t know, Kenzie, and it kills me. You don’t know how beautiful you were as a child, how amazing and innocent, you don’t know how cared for you were.”
I nodded with wide eyes. “But I do, Jordan. I know I had a wonderful family, and I know that it kills you that God did not grant you the same, but you cannot blame me for that. You cannot compare our lives in the hopes of finding answers.”
He leaned forward and grabbed my hand. “Kenzie, I know that. That’s not what I’m trying to say. I chose my childhood. I know the life I lived, and I wouldn’t change it, not anymore.”
I frowned. “Jordan, I’m trying to understand, but I can’t…”
“Kenzie, do you remember the day when your family moved into the house they live in now?” His eyes were intense.
“A little, sure, why?” I was confused.
“Do you remember going to the park that day?”
His words shocked me as they jogged my memory. “Yeah, sure I do, but how do you know that?”
“I was there, Kenzie. I was the boy in the park.” He shook my hand, his eyes full of a storm I had all but forgotten.
“That was you? You were the boy? But…” The thought began to gain strength in my head. “But where did you go? How did you know that was me?” My eyes searched his but the storm had faded, and the window to his soul had closed.
He sighed and sat back. “I lived down your lane, but I moved out soon after.”
I pursed my lips, trying to remember which house and which memory was real. “The green house down the lane? The abandoned one where the sad old man had lived?”
“Was he sad?” His eyes seemed to gloss over.
I shrugged. “Yeah, sure. At first he seemed angry, but after a while he grew sad and lonely. Stopped working, stopped caring for anything, really. He didn’t live long, though.” And that’s when it hit me. “He was your father, wasn’t he?” A rush of shock sent a cooling wave across my body, and I shivered, seeing the old man’s face.
He nodded. “Yes, he was.”
I had nothing to say then as sadness fell over me, the room now filling with thick emotion. The eyes of the old man should have given it away, but how was I to remember such a seemingly infinitesimal moment with such clarity? My friends would tease and taunt the old man, but I remember I’d always felt grief for him, as though we were connected. Now to find that we had been connected by the future.
“I still own that house, you know.” I saw a tear fall from his eye as I looked at him.
I could understand why he never told me about his family, so I wasn’t angry, just surprised that they had been so close to my own life. Exhaling, I tried to wrap my head around the thought of owning a house, and not just any house, but that house. “We do?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
I waited a moment before saying anything more. “Do you ever go back there?”
He continued to nod. “All the time.”
I thought for a moment about the fate of it all, and how he’d saved me so many times since. Was that a coincidence? Were we really so star crossed that all our past had been fate? I thought about the man in my dreams as he again resurfaced on the walls of my mind, looking more like Jordan than ever before, though that was still absurd. It was a dream, that was not possible, a dream where a human could change the past and future, or at least try to. I shook it off, figuring that I was manifesting the thought because of my love for Jordan and the fairy tale it created in my mind. Life wasn’t like that.
Jordan was watching me now with a close eye. “What are you thinking about?”
I quickly came up with something viable. “Just the house.”
He leaned back and clutched the book to his chest.
I cursed myself and bit my tongue, my mind screaming to ask but my sanity telling me to hold back, that the day would come when I could explain my thoughts to him. Perhaps he didn’t know, perhaps there really were these parallel lives, and his and mine were truly intertwined, and the man in my dreams was the puppeteer for us both. A smile grew across my face, like a mad man dreaming. Perhaps what he wouldn’t say was the fact he had dreamt too. But why wouldn’t he tell me when he knew so much about my dreaming? Of all the people out there, I understood.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Kenzie?” He lifted one brow.
“Oh, yes fine. Just thinking about the house as a kid, that’s all.” I stood then and left the room like a stunned bird, leaving him in his solitude.
“Kenzie, wait.” I heard him stand.
I turned on my heel very slowly, finding he was right behind me. He placed one hand on my cheek.
“I’m sorry for being such a downer.” He traced his fingers behind my ear and down my neck. I felt goose bumps cover my body. The man in my dreams was screaming at
me now, angry that I didn’t recognize him, angry that I couldn’t figure this puzzle out.
“That’s alright,” I replied. His grey-blue eyes searched mine as he leaned in and kissed my neck, then my collar bone.
Time stopped as his nose grazed back toward my face and across my cheek. I was still shaken, but I felt the fear slowly fade as the heat returned to my body. I looked up at his face and put my arms around his chest. His smirk was irresistible and I leaned in for a kiss, but he leaned back with a grin instead.
“Will you forgive me?” His eyes glimmered.
I laughed. “I think that’s what I was doing.”
His hand traced up my spine and he pulled me toward him, our lips intertwining for a moment as I closed my eyes, thinking of my dream man and making it him; a sense of guilt washing over me as I did so.
When he leaned back, a smile lit across my face as he plucked me off the ground and I began to laugh. “Jordan! What are you doing?”
His smile stretched from ear to ear. “Having a little fun, my love.”