by Amalie Jahn
The only thing I cared about in that moment was finding the shortest route to Brooke. I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on getting myself out of the mess I created until after I was given an opportunity to see her.
“Any chance you’d be willing to come back tonight? I really need some time to wrap my head around what’s going on. Maybe you could look into my options, and we can talk about them after dinner?”
He glanced at his watch and picked up his computer bag. “Sure. I can be back at seven. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Charlie. I’m just sorry it’s under these circumstances.”
“Me too,” I replied, shaking his hand.
I followed him down the hall, until he turned left in the direction of the exit. Ms. Cavanaugh headed right, hurrying me through a series of narrow hallways until we reached a hectic office at the far end of the facility. An older gentleman, wearing a seersucker suit and reading spectacles, was being escorted through the doorway as we entered. His presence did little to curb my growing apprehension.
“This way,” Ms. Cavanaugh called over her shoulder, as we approached several rows of chairs, reminiscent of unpleasant trips to the Department of Motor Vehicles.
“Have a seat here. Your name is already in the queue so when a booking officer calls for you, I’ll take you over to his window. Once you’re finished being processed, another officer will take you to your assigned location.”
“What about visitors?”
“After you’re finished.”
“How long will it take to be finished?”
She scanned the room of waiting detainees. “An hour. Maybe more.”
“Maybe less?” I offered hopefully.
She suppressed a smile. “Doubtful. I admire your enthusiasm though.” She scrolled through a file on her tablet. “I have a couple others to check in on. I’ll be back when I hear your name called.”
“Thanks,” I replied thinly.
After watching her approach a haggard looking businessman, I scanned my fellow offenders seated around the room. I was struck immediately by the severe lack of diversity among the group. Most were men. Middle aged. Caucasian. Their clothing suggested affluence. I wondered what would account for the lack of women. Or elderly. Or impoverished. Regardless of the composition of the group, it was evident there was no shortage of people breaking the traveling laws. I never considered how many violators there actually were in the world. I couldn’t help but wonder just how much of my life was affected by time travel. Judging by the lack of open seating in the room, it was probably more than I had ever imagined.
I thought about Brooke and the changes she made during her trips to the past. It dawned on me that she had never been arrested, even though she admitted a life was lost as a direct result of the changes she made during her second trip. Would taking a life not be more of an offense than saving one? I was disturbed by the obvious inconsistencies in the agency’s accountability standards and arrest methods. Clearly I was missing something.
Dozens of names were announced over the intercom. I watched as one after another, the men around me were escorted to the glass windows. While I waited my turn, I reflected upon my father’s return to my life. From the second I heard his voice on the phone, I couldn’t deny my feelings of disappointment. As I sat picking at the ripped corner of the vinyl chair, facing imprisonment as a result of his presence, the disappointment I felt quickly turned to resentment.
His life had been spared. Mine was being taken away.
“Charles Johnson,” the intercom announced.
It took several seconds to register that my name was being called. Ms. Cavanaugh appeared out of nowhere and walked me to the counter where a uniformed officer waited. She wore a look of indifference and a severe looking hair style.
“Identification?”
I handed her my card. She swiped it across the computer screen.
“Charles Johnson, you have been accused of breaking the time travel code, section 17, article 2 during trip 396DIB92. You will have a hearing to discuss your case later in the week. Until that time, you are required to remain here at the facility. After your hearing, if you are found not guilty, you will be free to go. If you are found guilty, you will receive your sentencing immediately and will be transferred to our long term housing facility. I understand you have chosen to have an attorney present at your proceedings?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Then I think we are done here. Do you have any questions?”
“Long term housing facility? Isn’t that just another name for jail?”
She glared at me over the top of her glasses. “We prefer long term housing facility. It’s reserved only for violators of traveling laws. Any other questions?”
I thought of Brooke. “When can I see visitors?”
“You may make a formal request to the floor supervisor when you arrive. Officer Gordon will escort you there now. Have a good day, Mr. Johnson.”
I was taken aback by her lack of compassion. “I didn’t mean to change anything. It was an accident,” I said.
“Yeah. You and everybody else around here. Have a good day.”
I ignored her sentiments, said goodbye to Ms. Cavanaugh, and begrudgingly followed Officer Gordon back out the way I came. We stopped at the elevator adjacent to the main entrance to take us below ground to the holding cells. As we waited for the doors to open, I craned my neck in an attempt to see into the front lobby.
She was there. Her hands were folded in her lap, and her face was streaked with tears. She stared straight ahead at the wall, engrossed in her own thoughts. I called to her.
Her reaction was immediate. She rose from her seat in one fluid motion, turning in the direction of my voice. She began running toward me, pushing past everyone who stood between us.
“Where are you going?” she cried.
“Downstairs. I have to stay for now. Wait for me. They said I can see you soon.”
The doors to the elevator slid open and the officer directed me inside.
“I’ll wait for you,” I heard Brooke call as the doors shut, blocking her from my view.
As the elevator descended into the depths of the facility, I shuddered, wondering how many years she would be willing to wait.
C HAPTER TWENTY THREE
After over an hour of processing, which included taking my statement as well as a lot of other useless personal information, my name finally made its way to the top of the visitor’s waiting list, and I was escorted to the visitation area on the main floor of the building. I sat alone, rubbing my temples at one of the six plastic picnic tables in the room, willing myself to wake up from the nightmare my life had become. I glanced around, half expecting a TV personality to breeze in and announce the location of the hidden cameras. We’d all share a good laugh, and I’d go home.
The joke was on me. No celebrities arrived.
Instead, three additional travelers sat at separate tables around the room. Behind me, there was a frazzled, middle-aged man shouting obscenities at a woman in a crisp, linen pantsuit. I hoped for her sake she was his lawyer, not his wife. An older gentleman embraced a considerably younger woman at the only table beside the window. She repeatedly cried out, as though her grief was causing her physical distress, each time startling me from my thoughts. My final companion sat alone, as I did, elbows on the table, cradling his head in his hands.
After several minutes, a buzzer sounded and I watched in anguish as the guard hoisted himself from his chair and shuffled to the metal gate.
“Visitor for Charles Johnson,” he announced. “Thirty minutes begins now.”
I stood up as she crossed the length of the room, her footsteps echoing off the concrete floor. I had never seen her so haggard, with her hair piled haphazardly on top of her head and her eyes wild with despair. It was like a knife to my heart, knowing I was the reason for her grief. I folded her into my chest where she began to sob uncontrollably.
“Oh, Charlie! I can’t believe they came for you!
”
I led her to the table, and we sat wrapped in one another’s arms, each supporting the weight of the other.
“My father’s still alive,” I said, after she calmed down.
“Yes. The accident never happened. He never fell into the ravine. You and I thought for sure they’d have come for you already, if they were going to. I guess the government was waiting for you to return to the present timeline.”
“What happened on the day he was supposed to have died?”
“We waited for it to happen. We knew it was coming. And then you called me that afternoon to tell me he came home. We were really worried because we couldn’t figure out what was happening. At first we were scared because we thought he lived because of something you did, but when the authorities never arrived, we assumed someone else caused the change. I guess we were right to have been worried after all.”
I mulled over the new information. “I don’t know how to feel about it. I wish I was happy. But given the circumstances…”
“I know. But to be honest, you haven’t known how to feel about it since it happened. Or didn’t happen.” She shook her head in disbelief. “We thought the authorities would show up right away, but then they didn’t and we were so relieved. We knew the entire timeline was going to change after that, so we tried to keep things the same as they were the first time around. It was really hard though, considering everything was completely different.” She paused to look at my face, brushing the hair off my forehead. “I headed to your house this morning, just like we planned for me to do after your extraction from the past. Your family was freaking out. They told me about your phone call, and I came straight here. I’ve been waiting in the lobby ever since. Your mom and dad and Melody got here about half an hour ago. They’re second on your list of visitors.”
As excited as I was about seeing my mom and Melody, I couldn’t stand the thought of being in my father’s presence. Knowing how he treated my mother, I still couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same room with him. And yet, I was indebted to him. The lawyer he supplied provided my only chance of avoiding prison.
“What am I going to do, Brooke?” I asked, resting my chin on the top of her head.
“I don’t know. What did they tell you? Are there any loopholes? Is there any way out of it?”
I shook my head. “No. It sounds like a pretty cut and dried case. My father is probably the only evidence they need. The lawyer said he would try to figure something out. Maybe the fact I didn’t do it on purpose will count for something. Who knows?”
“How long do we have until the hearing?”
“A couple of days.”
“And if the lawyer doesn’t come up with anything?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
She prodded. “What’s gonna happen, Charlie? Tell me.”
“Prison. Ten to fifteen years.”
It is possible to see a person’s spirit drain from her body, because that’s what I saw happen to Brooke. One second, she was there. The next second, she was gone.
I wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay. That we would get through it. That it would make us stronger. Better.
But I couldn’t lie to her.
“I don’t expect you to wait for me. I don’t even want you to. You should go back to school. Find someone else. Enjoy a wonderful life. It’s what you deserve.”
She didn’t blink, sitting motionless beside me, in a daze, as our allotted visitation ticked away. Finally, she tilted her head ever so slightly to gaze up at me. A tiny smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.
“I was going to say yes today. Yes to your marriage proposal. I’ve been holding off saying anything because I told you I was going to make you wait until you got back. It’s been hard, keeping my answer from you all this time. When I woke up this morning, the excitement of telling you nearly overwhelmed me.”
“We don’t have to talk about it, Brooke. Please don’t torture yourself.”
She stared at her hands, picking at a cuticle which began to bleed. “It’s a long time, isn’t it? Fifteen years?”
“Yes. A very long time.”
“Is there any hope at all?”
I knew there wasn’t. I wasted our second chance. But I didn’t have the courage to say it aloud.
“There’s always hope,” I replied, taking her hands in mine.
Tears pooled in her eyes. “I have faith,” she said. “Faith that I wouldn’t have been led to you if I wasn’t meant to be with you always. Somehow we’ll be together.”
There were a thousand reasons to love Brooke. As I sat holding her, straddling the plastic picnic table bench, I added another reason to the list. She was tenacious. As exasperating as it was inspiring, I had never witnessed anyone so confident in her life’s path. I’d never known her to question why things happened. She just accepted and worked with the hand she was dealt the best she knew how. I guess that wisdom came from trying to save Branson. The experience had obviously taught her a lot. I wondered what wisdom I would gain from my experience.
I couldn’t look at her any longer. “But if it doesn’t work out…”
“Something will work out. It might not be what we want. It might not be what we’re expecting. But something will work out.”
The overhead speaker crackled to life. “Charles Johnson, time is up. Your guest needs to leave the visitation area,” the guard announced.
Her face was only inches from mine. I could smell her cherry lip balm. I breathed it in deeply, hoping to capture the memory and carry it with me into the night.
“Don’t go,” I said, brushing my cheek against her forehead.
“You heard him. I have to leave. Your family wants to see you too.” She kissed me. Passionately. I felt the longing pass between us. “I’ll come back tomorrow. First thing.”
She stood up and hurried to the door. I knew she wouldn’t dawdle. Quick goodbyes, she said, were less painful.
She glanced over her shoulder as she passed through the metal gate. She mouthed the words, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I replied.
Less than five minutes later, Melody appeared at the gate, waving frantically alongside my parents. After being admitted, she raced between the tables and nearly tackled me with her embrace.
“Charlie, when are they letting you go?” she asked.
“Don’t know, kiddo. I guess we’ll find out in a couple of days.”
“What’d you do?”
“He used his stupid trip, that’s what he did!” my father bellowed as he strode across the room. “And royally screwed everything up, just like always.”
“That’s not fair, Phil,” Mom chimed in, kissing me on the cheek. “You should at least give him a chance to explain what happened.”
Without so much as a hug or a handshake, he sat down and folded his hands on the table. “Yes. I’d like nothing more than to hear how exactly you got yourself into this mess. And there had better be a reasonable explanation.”
I sat down across the table from my father. Melody slid in beside me, and Mom took the remaining seat next to my father. “Whatever I did was an accident,” I said.
“Oh, fabulous. An accident. I guess that makes it all better.” He sneered at me. “How in the world is it going to look for a United States Senator to have a son in prison? Do you have any idea what this will do to my career if it gets out? You never think about how your actions affect other people, Charlie. You never have.”
“That’s all I ever do!” I replied. “I’ve spent my entire life considering how my every move is going to affect your precious political career.”
“Obviously this time you didn’t!” he countered. “What you’ve just done could kill my campaign for reelection.”
I couldn’t help but smile at him. “Kill it, huh? It’s funny you should bring up death. I suspect no one’s told you why I’ve been arrested?”
“We keep asking,” Mom said, blotting her eyes with a tiss
ue, “but they refuse to tell us anything.”
I reached across the table to take her hand. I could not ignore the tormented look on her face and wished there was something I could say to ease her pain. “I’m here because during my trip, I ended up saving someone’s life.”
“Why would you do that? You know it’s against the law!” my father said, cursing under his breath.
“I assure you,” I replied, matching the intensity of his stare with my own, “it was an accident.”
“Who did you save?” Melody asked.
“I saved him,” I said, gesturing toward my father.
“What?” my mother cried. “Phil died?”
“Yeah. In a freak climbing accident. Went on one of his buddy weekend expeditions and ended up dead at the bottom of a ravine.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. He was never going to change.
“You don’t have to believe me, Dad,” I said sharply, spitting his name like poison from my tongue. “There will be a hearing later this week, and you’ll get to hear all about how I inadvertently saved your life.”
“Then why did you go back, if it wasn’t to save Dad’s life?” Melody asked.
I turned to my sister. It was obvious she’d been crying as well. I quickly decided to edit the story of what happened to spare her feelings. She didn’t need to hear what a horrible man her father was. At least not right away.
“After he died, I convinced Mom to tell me something they hid from me my entire life. She told me I was adopted. I started looking for my biological mother and found out she died too. There were some answers I needed to get that could only come from her. You had the idea of going back in time to see her so I could find the closure I was looking for. And that’s what I did.”
Everyone was silent for several moments, allowing the truth of what transpired to sink in fully. My father looked at me skeptically, knowing I intentionally chose to share the abridged story of my adoption. I knew he couldn’t fathom why I would spare them the truth. Empathy was lost on him.
Finally, Mom spoke.