The Day Before Forever

by Anna Caltabiano

  Henley blinked at his lap.

  “And for the record, she cared about you. That day you took me out to get ice cream, she was there. You caught sight of her, remember? You thought she was a friend of mine from home. I suspect she was there hoping to catch a glimpse of you. And you know what? She asked about you. She would ask after Mr. Beauford’s son specifically. So think what you want about your own mother, but you can’t think she didn’t care.”

  Henley’s hands were trembling. They started to shake, with bigger tremors moving up his arm and to the rest of his body. Henley shuddered.

  There, with a jar of peanut butter in my lap, I touched the back of his neck, and he took a deep breath. His body let out the first sob. A second one slipped out. A third, a fourth . . . until his whole body was racked with them.

  I sat there with my hand against his warm neck. His body didn’t want to be soothed. His body only wanted to get it out.

  When he was done, Henley silently stood up and walked to the bathroom. He didn’t look at me. Once in the bathroom, I heard the shower turn on.

  We didn’t talk about it afterward. We only got dressed—me in one of his large shirts and him in his pants—and got ready for bed. With the sheets tucked to my chin, Henley patted my hair gently as I drifted to sleep. His hand kept stroking my hair. It was as if I had been the one crying.

  SEVEN

  SOMETHING SHOVED ME in the shoulder.

  “Rebecca.”

  Henley was being awfully loud for morning. I turned, burying my face in the pillow.

  “Rebecca, get up.” He began tugging the sheets down.

  My arm flailed, trying to grab onto the sheets so he couldn’t take them.

  Henley chuckled. “Rebecca, you’re like a child. It’s almost ten . . . Don’t you think it’s time to get up yet?”

  We were sleeping well for people whose room had been snuck into, but it just didn’t seem to be enough. All the worrying, all the preparations—it left us exhausted at the end of each day. It seemed like I couldn’t ever sleep enough.

  “Shh,” I mumbled into my pillow.

  I felt the weight distribution change on the bed. Two hands grasped my legs. Henley was now trying to pull me out of bed by my ankles.

  “Rebecca!”

  “No, no you don’t,” I said, though by this point I was already up. I noticed that he was already dressed. Typical Henley.

  “Oh yes, I do . . .” Henley pulled. He dragged me out of the sheets and half onto the floor with him.

  We were both laughing as we slid the rest of the way down onto the ground.

  “What was that for?” I said, wiping my hair out of my eyes. “Look what you’ve done. Now the comforter and the sheets are on the floor.”

  “You were asleep till ten!”

  “And . . . ?”

  “And today I thought we would do something special.”

  Henley chuckled again when he saw me visibly perk up at the word “special.”

  “What are we doing?” I asked.

  Henley took my hands and helped me stand. “We are going to go on a date. Our real first date.”

  I thought back to all the time I had spent with Henley. I guess all of our experiences in Tudor England didn’t count since he technically didn’t have a body and didn’t have a choice of being there or not. The latter part of the time we spent in 1904 was difficult thanks to Henley’s father’s death and the growing unease I had felt from being in one time period for too long. And the beginning of our time in 1904 . . . well, I suppose that had been a little closer to what a real date would be like. I remembered Henley taking me shopping and for ice cream—that was what people did on dates in the movies. Of course, the shopping was for clothing to fit into the time period and pose as Henley’s cousin and fool his father . . . And the ice cream was cut short by my seeing Miss Hatfield there and being reminded that I was on a mission. There was also the fact that I hadn’t been able to tell Henley anything about me. I had to either lie to him or keep everything vague. So I guess that wasn’t a date either.

  “Rebecca?” Henley’s brows were furrowed.

  “Yes?”

  “Is that all right with you?”

  “What?” I said.

  “If we went out on a real date.”

  I laughed. “Of course. Why would it not be?”

  “Well, you hadn’t answered and . . .”

  I thought it was funny that Henley could think that I would say no to my first official date with him when I had been with him for centuries, and often as my only confidant.

  “So what are we going to do?” I asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” Henley said. “There must be a lot to do in London. But first get changed.” Henley walked across the room and tossed me my black dress.

  “Hmm . . .” I fingered the fabric of the dress.

  “What is it this time?”

  “My dress feels a bit damp.”

  “I washed our clothing while you were still asleep,” Henley said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I much prefer my women clean.”

  I rolled my eyes at him and began to change.

  Ever the gentleman, Henley turned to face the wall for me. I wondered if that would ever change.

  “You can turn around now,” I said when I was finished.

  “You look stunning as always,” he said, grabbing the backpack with all our things in it.

  “You sound sarcastic as always.”

  “I’m just trying to give you a compliment, but if you can’t take it, that’s on you.”

  Henley got the door for me as we left.

  In the lobby we ran into Aaron.

  “Beautiful day out for a walk,” he said.

  “That’s what we intend to do,” Henley said.

  “Oh, where to?”

  Henley glanced at me. “We’re not quite sure yet. Maybe we’ll do some of the most touristy things.”

  “The London Eye, perhaps?”

  I didn’t know if Henley knew what that was. It most certainly didn’t exist in the early 1900s.

  “Whatever my lady wants,” Henley said, looking at me so sincerely, I couldn’t help but feel a bit shy in front of Aaron. “I’m spending a day with her, after all.”

  “Right you are.” Aaron looked like he was about to swoon. “I wish my partner was that romantic.” He winked at me. “Oh, before I forget, Alanna and Peter were asking after you. They were going to a comedy show and wanted to know if you would join them.”

  Henley looked at me.

  “Tonight might be a bit difficult,” I said. “But we’re hoping to catch up with them later.”

  “No worries,” Aaron said. “I’ll just let them know.”

  Henley put his arm around me.

  “Have a lovely day out,” Aaron said. His head was tilted, as if we were the sweetest things he had ever seen.

  As we walked down the road, I kept waiting for Henley to pull out his map.

  “You’re not going to look up directions?” I finally asked.

  “Directions? To what?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Something you want to see?”

  “Wandering is best when you don’t know what you want to see. Let something come across you for once,” Henley said. “This road will turn onto the main street soon, and there’s bound to be something there if we keep walking along it.”

  Henley was right. As we neared the main street, we heard the bustle of people and traffic—that much was normal—but then we started to hear music.

  “What do you think it is?” I asked, as we got to the street.

  For the most part, traffic was at a standstill. People clogged the sidewalks, jockeying to buy food and snacks sold on the street in little carts. A stilt-wearing, eight-foot-tall man slowly walked past us. A clown was also making balloons for a mass of children on the other side of the street.

  “Some kind of festival, I guess,” Henley said. He grabbed my hand. “Here, let’s walk down that way a bit. The people wit
h popcorn and balloon animals seem to be coming from there, so that must be toward the center of all this.”

  Henley pushed into the throng of people on the sidewalk. I was glad I had ahold of his hand, as I would have lost him otherwise.

  “Do you see this?” From between heads in the crowd, I saw Henley’s eyes twinkle from excitement.

  When I caught up to him, I saw that the road was closed off. Games, shops, and various kiosks were set up. Every two feet there seemed to be another stall of some kind.

  “Isn’t this better than the London Eye, whatever that is?” Henley said.

  I laughed.

  I could barely hear him over the crowd. He had to step closer to me and stand by my ear.

  “Now what should we do first? Games?” Henley was raring to go.

  “But Henley, don’t these games and things cost money? They probably ask a bit for each game,” I said, but Henley couldn’t hear me.

  “Hmm . . . Let’s try that milk bottle game first. I think you’d be good at it!”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said, but he didn’t hear that either.

  I had to tug on his shirtsleeve like a child for him to notice and hear me.

  “Don’t these games and other kiosks cost money?” I said. “I know we have a little more than we began with, but I don’t want to spend it on frivolous things.”

  “I’m not sure . . .” It was obvious the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Of course, we could just be killed tomorrow and all this saving money would have been in vain. There was no telling where the murderer was. We could be dead by the end of the day. Maybe we might as well have some fun while we’re still alive.

  We watched the little boy in front of us in line. It didn’t look like he handed the man any money when he received his plastic rings for the ring toss, but it was hard to tell.

  When the boy was done, it was our turn.

  Henley pushed me forward. “Ten rings for this lady here.”

  The man in charge simply handed me the rings. I guessed it was free then.

  “You want to toss them onto the bottles there,” the man said.

  I nodded gravely and tried to throw my first one.

  The first ring missed the bottles completely.

  “Why don’t you try throwing it like a Frisbee?” the man in charge said.

  I had no idea what he meant or even what a Frisbee was. I looked to Henley, but he looked like he had no idea either.

  The man had to walk over and show me how to throw the ring.

  “Firmly plant your feet. And then it’s a little snap of the wrist,” he said.

  “Okay . . .” I tried again. This time the ring hit one of the bottle necks.

  “Very close!” Henley cheered from the sidelines.

  “I just can’t get it over,” I said, walking to Henley to pass the rest of the rings to him.

  “No, no,” he said. “At least give it another try.”

  I did, and the ring hit the bottle lip this time.

  “I’d like to see you give it a try,” I said. “Bet you can’t do any better.”

  Henley wrinkled his nose, and I laughed at the goofy expression he made.

  “Is that a challenge?” He took the rings from me and made a show of firmly planting his feet.

  “Go on already,” I said, but I was giggling.

  Henley whipped his wrist back and sent the ring flying. It hit the first bottle and perfectly dropped around its neck.

  My mouth gaped.

  Henley immediately looked over to me and flashed a cocky grin.

  “No fair!” I said. “You saw the man teach me how to hold and throw the ring before you went.”

  “That’s called strategy,” Henley said. “You go first so I can learn from your mistakes.”

  I made a show of pouting.

  “You look too adorable when you do that.” Henley threw his second ring, and it slid into place on top of the first. “Third time’s the charm,” he said, and his third ring slipped around another bottle neck. “I think I just found my new favorite game.”

  “Now you’re just showing off.”

  “Finally something I’m naturally better at than you,” he called, as he continued throwing his rings and continued making them go around the bottles.

  “Hey, you had horseback riding too.”

  Henley gathered his rings and gave them back to the man, thanking him.

  “Your prize,” the man said, handing Henley a small plastic bag emblazoned with a large company logo.

  There was a fuzzy mascot walking past us with the same company logo on his shirt. I think the mascot was supposed to be a cow. This whole carnival event must be sponsored by the company.

  Henley withdrew a disposable camera from the bag and slowly turned it over, inspecting it. He marveled at how the dial clicked as he wound it. “I’ve seen these so often when I was . . .” He trailed off, but I knew what he meant. When he was without a body.

  Before I could say anything, he took a photo of me. “Naturally better,” he said, returning to our previous conversation, as we began walking again.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I was only better at horseback riding than you because I grew up around horses at the country house. You had probably never seen a horse before, and in a month you already had the skill it took me years to build up.” Henley wound the dial again on the disposable camera.

  I almost stuck my tongue out at him. “I still wasn’t as good as you.”

  He smiled at that. I thought he was going to jokingly pat my hand, but Henley took out the camera again and took another photo. “We can’t all have everything we want, my dear.”

  “Someday,” I said. “If we ever go horseback riding together again, I’ll practice till I’m as good as you.”

  “I’m looking forward to that.”

  “Excuse me, sir?” Henley tapped a random man on the shoulder.

  The man was wearing a baseball cap backward and looking as confused as I was.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  Henley handed the man the camera. “Would you mind taking a photo of us?”

  “Not at all,” he said, peering through the viewfinder. “Should I take a few?”

  “That would be great.”

  Henley stood next to me, our shoulders touching.

  “Smile,” Henley whispered. “We don’t have any photographs together.”

  “One. Two. And three . . .”

  I smiled. This was exactly the kind of thing Henley would do.

  “One more . . .”

  “Rebecca?”

  I squinted up at Henley.

  “Thank you for humoring me,” he said.

  After a round of photos, Henley thanked the man and retrieved the camera. He stuck it in the backpack.

  “Do you want to get something to eat soon?” Henley asked.

  We ducked into the shade of one of the nearby tents. It was a face-painting one, filled with kids asking for princesses, mermaids, and Batman on their faces.

  We had been playing carnival games like the ring toss for the better half of the last hour. Henley won most of them, but I beat him during the sack race, so all was forgiven. Henley also continued taking photos throughout the festival until the camera ran out.

  “Sure. I was just getting hungry.”

  Henley and I scanned the food carts near us.

  “Any idea of what you want to eat?” he asked.

  We continued walking to see the various food carts. We passed giant pretzel stands, cotton candy trollies, and popcorn pushcarts. My mouth was watering thinking of all the different possible sweet and salty flavors.

  “I think I’ll go with a hot dog,” I said, spying a cart selling gourmet hot dogs with every possible topping a person could think of.

  Henley handed me five pounds to give to the woman selling the hot dogs. Wrapped in tinfoil, it was warm in my hands. I
t smelled absolutely delicious, but I wanted to wait for Henley to get something.

  “What are you thinking of getting?”

  Henley was already talking to the owner of another cart, and he was waiting for his food.

  “I got a corn dog,” he said. “It’s a similar thing, but an amazing idea. Imagine a sausage wrapped in something like corn bread . . .”

  I shook my head. Henley’s amazement at the simplest things would never cease to amuse me.

  “And it comes on a stick!” Henley looked pleased when it was handed to him.

  “We should probably find shade to eat,” I said.

  The sun was hotter than usual today, or maybe we felt it more because we hadn’t spent too much time outdoors in a while. I felt it most on the back of my head, which was blazing hot to the touch.

  So Henley and I walked until we came to a square granite stone jutting from the sidewalk. The top was flattened and polished. It was one stone of many in a row. They were all set evenly apart, dotting the sidewalk by tall buildings that blocked off the sun. I didn’t know if they were actually supposed to be benches, but I saw that other people were sitting on them, and one stone seemed to comfortably fit two people easily.

  “Here?”

  Henley sat to my left at such an angle that to see his face when talking to him, I’d have to turn my whole body a little.

  “This corn dog is divine.” He stretched out the word.

  “You’re eating already?”

  “Wasn’t that the plan?”

  “I mean you’re not waiting for me.”

  “Everything’s better when it’s still hot.”

  I followed suit and unwrapped my hot dog. I took a bite and relished the warmth of the sausage, how it was a little salty but tasted just right with the sweetness of the ketchup and the little kick of the onions and peppers.

  “Exactly what I needed,” I mumbled.

  “I never thought of warm food as a privilege before.” Henley laughed, setting down his food momentarily.

  “It’s always the little things . . .”

  And it was always the little things that made the biggest difference when you traveled from one time to the next. It was the little things that you missed and—thinking of Henley in the grocery store—it was the little things that you were astounded by.