It was the first time in years I had come out and actually enjoyed myself…the first time I enjoyed myself since my father died. I knew what I had been doing all along. I was keeping too busy to notice that he was gone. Maybe I had to do more in life than just keeping myself busy. I had to live my life instead of making myself forget. In order for someone to honor the memory of a loved one, we must live on. I didn’t want to think of my father so much. Just then, my mood turned sour. Thoughts and memories crept in my mind like raindrops falling against the windowpane at night. Thank goodness Audrey didn’t see the tears that threatened to come down from my eyes.
It began to rain.
Nudging my coat as if to wake me from my horrible thoughts, Audrey spoke softly. “Mira, we should be getting back home. Won’t your mother worry about you? I want to get out of the rain.”
“If you’d like to go home, catch a cab,” I replied. “I will give you some fare to get home. I don’t want your parents to worry. I would like to walk around a bit more and take in some of the sights. It’s been a while since I’ve been outside.” Audrey nodded as I handed her a couple of dollars for the fare. The last I saw of her, she was opening the cab door to get inside. Waving, I smiled, then wiped away stray tears as they fell upon my cheeks when the cab disappeared within the traffic of the day.
While the rain came down harder, I found myself running to get some cover. As I walked down the street, there stood a five foot eight inch tall, brooding young man with blond hair, jeans and a white shirt. He looked very familiar to me, but I couldn’t place him. A friend was trying to console him. But this man could not be consoled. He shoved his friend away, grunting, and his friend went back into the bar, very angry. Drying myself as best as I could, I pushed the water droplets off my coat as I came in under the small roof provided by the bar. The young man looked at me, the corners of his lips lifting in a small smile. Being polite and in a different time, I smiled back. When he came into the light, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was James Dean! This was not the same James that I had seen in pictures or read about. Tears were threatening to spill on his face. He had small circles under his eyes confirming the talk about his insomnia.
“Want a smoke?” he offered as I stared at the box of Lucky Strikes he shoved in my face. Declining, I shook my head. “You don’t smoke... So, what’s your name?” he asked as he looked at me, leaning over closer, offering me a close-up of himself.
“Mira, and you are…?” I offered my hand as a puff of his cigarette smoke passed me.
“James Dean. Pleasure to meet you.” He grinned as he took the cigarette from his mouth, flicking the ashes to the side of the street. “What brings you here? You don’t look like the type of girl who’d come to a bar.”
James Dean gave me a once over! His eyes never left mine as I spoke to him. This had to be some sort of dream, because I was meeting my lifelong idol. “I was here with a friend, but she went home due to the rain. I still wanted to walk around. You looked angry there when you pushed your friend. Is everything okay?”
He came closer. At first, I was rather intimidated by his body being closer to mine, but after a few minutes it didn’t bother me. He had this comfortable way of doing it, so as not to scare someone away.
Grinning shyly, he looked down to the sidewalk, scratching the back of his head. “Nah, it wasn’t his fault. My father missed some commercial I was in. Got a good acting gig and he wasn’t there to watch it. Says he missed it.”
I’d heard rumors things were not right with his father. Between his reaction and admitting his feelings, I could see the rumors were true. I reached out and touched his hand, looking him straight in the eyes. “You did a great job in that commercial. I’m sure of it. Besides, I have a feeling you are going to do well and be famous one day.”
Laughing, he took my hand, kissing it at the knuckles. “You’re a sweetheart. That made me feel better. Famous, huh? Me, famous? You don’t even know me.” Modest as he was, he never would have suspected that his life would leave such a legacy behind it. He would not know how he was commemorated in so many ways, played and admired by so many. He became infinite, immortal.
“I know a good person when I see one. My father always said you could tell by someone’s eyes how great their desires are.” Before I could even finish, James had flicked the cigarette, throwing his arms around me. His embrace was warm and loving. I missed hugs, especially those of my father.
“You okay, Jimmy?” his friend Willie said as he came out. William Bast was a very close friend of James. I remembered reading his work on James called Surviving James Dean. It was such a beautiful book about James, Willie, and their friendship.
Nodding, James yelled, “Hey, Willie, get a camera!” James then grabbed me, pulling me into a hug and having Willie take the photo.
“Let me take you home,” he said, taking my hand as we walked down the street. Even more shocking, I got to ride his motorcycle. The engine roared to life as I yelled directions to James and held on for dear life. I was getting soaked the entire time, but I didn’t care. I was with James.
My life couldn’t be more complete. As we reached the apartments, I slowly got off the bike, surprised at myself that I had done this. Ordinarily, I’d never get on a motorcycle. James leaned over and caressed my cheek. Before I could open my mouth to tell him what was to happen to him, he gave me a quick peck on the lips. I couldn’t let James walk away, not now.
Something in me grasped his wrist; my breath caught in my throat. I no longer cared about the rain. I must have looked like a drowned rat to him. “I have to tell you something,” I blurted as I waited for his reaction.
James smiled, then chuckled as he caressed my face. The rain was preventing me from seeing clearly. “Sweetheart, it’s raining and you’re soaked. I hope this is important.” Pulling him toward me, I faced him. I could change history. I could have him live out his life as he was meant to. If I couldn’t save my father, I could save him.
“In the future, when you become famous, please be careful. Remember this: there will be a day that you are off to a race. You will not see a car until it’s too late. James, please promise me. It could mean your life.” I must have sounded like a complete and total idiot to him. Geez! I think I watched Back To The Future too many times. I sounded like Marty talking to the professor about his impending death.
Chuckling, he shook his head, expelling the rain off his head and onto me. Laughter erupted between us as I covered my face. He then cupped my face, kissed my forehead. “Are you sure you’re not an angel? I cannot promise anything, but baby, I can promise I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll pick you up here and you can ditch your responsibilities. Ride with me.”
Sighing, now I knew how all those girls felt when they looked at him. What an offer that would be. Ditch school to ride with the man who was loved by so many. I was determined he’d listen to me. Gripping his hands from my face, I gazed into his eyes. “I’m serious!”
Before I could utter another word, his lips descended on mine. My body went toward him and melted. I couldn’t help but respond as I brought him closer. I was lost in his warm lips as they caressed mine. Lingering near my lips, he breathed, “I know you are.” Then, winking as he kissed me again, smiling that beautiful smile of his, “How else can my angel guard me if she isn’t with me?”
Leave it to James to take the moment from a sweet one to a humorous one. Laughing, I caressed his face. James then took my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist. Just like his kisses, he surely knew how to turn up the heat. If he kept this up, I would forget about the rain altogether. Deep inside, I knew that this whole going back in time thing could end at any minute. I would have to trust that destiny and fate would do their part. I hoped that whatever governed fate or destiny would let me stay to convince James.
Before I knew it, James kissed me on the lips and ran off into the pouring rain, jumping on his motorcycle. Too tired and soaked to care, I ran inside my home. I was just in time for supper
as I promised. Walking to my bedroom, I felt a bit dizzy. Was it because of the kiss or was it because I was tired again? I peeled off my wet clothes, managed to dry off and get into something dry. After dinner my mother went to bed, her door closed. Finally I fell upon my bed once more and into a deep slumber.
My body stretched and my eyes peeked open. It was hours later when I awakened back in 2008. After such a dream, my limbs hurt and my lips were still tingling. Could it be real? I couldn’t help but smile. Of course I had fallen asleep on all my books and photos. This was always a problem for me. Peeling a book from under me, I saw a photo of James and myself from a book displaying some of Jimmy’s personal photos. The captions below the picture were my name and “Consoling Angel” written in by James himself. According to the notes scribbled on the back, he had come looking for me where he dropped me off. He had come back! He was disappointed that I was not there, but he left wondering where I went or if I truly was his angel sent just for that night. My cheeks felt warm as tears ran from my eyes. Those tears were for what could have happened. Fate could have chosen differently, but it was not so. Unfortunately, history had to remain the same; that saddened me. I would have loved to have seen James in his older age still being the rebel that he’d always been. In the end, I would have to be happy. I got to meet him and understand why his legend lived on. Smiling, I touched the photo, picking the book up as I hugged it to my chest. Hugging that photo reminded me of the good things he did with his life, the amazing movies he made. He made peace with his father, and left a legacy that continues to this day.
When I came back, I never realized that the time had changed just a bit. I had slept through dinner and well, frankly, I did that sometimes. Mom understood because I was so overworked, in her opinion. I began to think this was an intervention of some sort or was someone higher up granting a lonely girl’s wish to see a man that her father and she once admired?
Later that night, I sat in the kitchen eating my favorite meal which consisted of spaghetti and meatballs from a bowl, overlooking the city around me from my patio. Maybe this was my lesson to loosen up and enjoy my life. Looking up through the fog and the city lights, I could see the faint lights of the stars. I closed my eyes, wished they would heed my call and help me start something new.
That night in my dreams I relived all that I had done with James. Sadly, I could only relive the moments in my dreams, but it seemed like all I needed for now. As Audrey and I walked to school, she looked at me funny and noted I looked different.
“It’s the amazing sleep that I got last night,” I praised, clutching my bag closer to my shoulder. That being a sufficient answer, we parted ways to our classes. Walking into my art class, I noticed a guy with a leather jacket speaking to the art teacher, Ms. Winkler. He looked and felt familiar and yet I did not know him. Sitting down, I waited for the others to come in and for the teacher to begin.
Finally, all the other students came bustling in and sat down in their seats. I found myself mesmerized as this stranger eventually turned around to face the crowd of students and myself. He was almost the spitting image of James Dean! He looked at me and smiled as our gazes met in the sea of eyes staring at him. I could hear the girls giggle and make comments about how cute he was. My brain must have melted as it tried to process the whys and hows of this whole situation. Had fate brought him back for a second chance? Except for different clothes and some different mannerisms, he just oozed of the James Dean.
The teacher hushed everyone to settle as she introduced him. “Class, we have a new student from California, James Byron.” She then proceeded to tell him to sit at my table as there were empty seats where I was. As Ms. Winkler began her lesson, James sat next to me. Tapping me on the arm, he introduced himself.
“Name’s James and you are?” He never took his eyes off me. It was like our meeting on the streets of New York in the 1950’s.
“Mira,” I chirped, as I had to keep my jaw from falling off my face.
Smiling, he said, “I feel like we’ve met before, but I can’t place where. Have you ever been to California?” Déjà vu hit me, but obviously he was still trying to piece everything together.
Shaking my head, I whispered, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to get caught talking. “No, not unless you count past lives.” My heart was practically in my throat at this moment as I wondered if he would remember or call me a freak of nature and never speak to me again.
Chuckling softly, he touched my hand and I froze. “Maybe we have met.” Hearing his voice with the warmth of his hand upon mine, I nearly dissolved, feeling nothing around me. This had to be James reincarnated. As Ms. Winkler continued her art lesson about drawing, I turned my head and smiled at him. This was the gift fate was willing to hand me along with the message: I guess you can find love across time or maybe it just finds you. James and I looked at each other again with knowing smiles.
This was the start of something new in my life.
Traveler
The sun rose over the elms and maples, the clouds turning the dark purple and orange that signals a beautiful day to come. The dew hung in the air, turning the air grey and thick with moisture. The trunks and limbs of the massive trees sliced through the ghostly light. It promised to be a hot day, though it was only the beginning of April. The baby birds began their frantic chirping, announcing to their mothers that they were ready to eat now. Mother birds flitted here and there, pecking at the earth to find the early morning worms or picking the crickets out of the air as they attempted to escape becoming an offering on the breakfast menu.
Dew glittered like diamonds on the dark green, perfectly kept grass. Frogs croaked out their territorial warnings in the large pond as they woke and claimed their respective lily pad. The snapdragons and petunias that grew wild in haphazard patches at the water’s edge seemed to droop a little under the weight of the weather they weren’t expecting.
William McKay walked slowly up the path that lead away from his home, the white gravel crunching under his soft and worn leather boots. He inhaled deeply as a warm breeze blew the smell of spring in his face, ruffling slightly the shirttails that he kept untucked. He pushed the sleeves of his fresh, white cotton tunic up his bare, sinewy forearms and listened to the songs of nature all around him. A peace began to go through him as he was able to forget for just a moment where his feet were taking him. Running his hand through his tousled black hair and closing his eyes, he turned his face toward the heat of the sun.
The walk he was on seemed to take forever and yet he was at the end in no time at all. He reached his destination and as if his body had taken complete control of itself, his feet stopped at the edge of the path, unwilling to step off the lane and onto the thinning grass. Pausing at the small fence, William put his hand carefully on the little wooden gate and gazed intently into the little graveyard. This was the place where his family had been buried for generations. He scanned all of the headstones. Some were large, like the grand and ornate veined marble one with the beveled edges and the deeply carved letters signifying where his grandfather was resting; some small, like the plain brown slab that showed where his mother was placed after she died giving birth to him.
His gaze wandered slowly and absently to the far corner, across from those of his grandfather and mother. There his eyes locked on one special little stone. It too was made of marble, small and square and not nearly as elaborate as his grandfather’s, and not nearly as fancily decorated. The mound of dirt was still brown and fresh, the grave so new that there was not even the slightest hint of grass beginning to grow again. The gleaming white stone bearing the names of his wife and young son, carved and chiseled by his own hand. They were buried together, one casket for them both. Together was where they belonged, and William was determined they would be that way for eternity.
He pushed at the gate, kicking it gently with the toe of his boot to get it to give way. It hung at a strange angle and bobbed when he took back his hand, and he made a mental not
e to work on repairing that gate, straightening it and refastening the hinges so that it swung open properly. This was a place of reverence that deserved to be kept right. When he was younger, it was just a place that his father made him go to mourn for people he never knew. But now the people he loved most were there. It would be kept properly, and would look respectable. Anyone who came to visit his home would know that important people were buried here, and that they were loved.
William walked to the pile of earth and stood for a moment, unable to move, unable to breathe. His legs couldn’t hold him up anymore and he dropped to his knees, jostling the breath he had been holding out of him. Gingerly he touched the etched words, his fingers shaking as he traced each letter. He bowed his head, his mind calling back the last visions he had of them.
“Are you here again?” a gruff voice said behind him, startling him a bit, but he didn’t flinch.
He withdrew his hand and sat a little straighter, but didn’t turn around. He hadn’t heard the old fence creak under the strain of being opened past its limits. But nobody and nothing could tell Elias McKay anything, not even a fence gate open as far as it was going to go.
“Yes, Father. I am here again,” was all William would say.
He could feel his father’s foreboding presence get closer without needing to see anything. His biggest wish at the moment was that his father would just leave him alone. It was hard enough for him to be here, to have to kneel before the graves of people who meant the world to him, who never should have died. He didn’t need to listen to his father’s lecturing and disapprovals again. He straightened the tiniest bit without even thinking about it. Habit? Or was it training?
Destined ~ A Time Travel Anthology Page 3