Not believing he was being followed, he put the items in his trunk and started driving away. He smiled, but he couldn’t help feeling his job was not yet done. I did it, I’m free and clear. Why can’t I leave? Damn.
He pulled over and looked at the map again. He found a spot where he could see Dale’s car, but far enough down the street that Dale wasn’t likely to spot him. He didn’t know what would come first: Dale, an angry neighbor, or sirens (either because of Dale’s actions or his own break-in). He did some breathing exercises while he waited.
At last, Dale appeared, walking quickly around the corner. It looked like he was cursing to himself as he stormed toward his car. When he realized his car had been broken into, he became visibly irate, waving his arms around as he paced back and forth. He even kicked the car a couple times.
Arnesto was really hoping Dale would give up and leave. Instead, Dale opened the trunk, got something out, and slammed the trunk shut. He started storming back to Angela’s house when Arnesto realized what it was.
Dale had his own tire iron, of course.
Shit! Arnesto may not have prevented Angela’s death after all. He had only changed the murder weapon while making the murderer even angrier. Good job.
Arnesto jumped out of the car and opened his trunk as fast as he could. This is so fucked, he thought as he grabbed the gun. He shut his trunk then sprinted as fast as he could after Dale.
When he was in sight of the house, Dale was already there, trying to kick the front door in. The door was starting to give. Arnesto knew Angela would be calling 911 if she hadn’t already, but he also knew there was no time. He had to intervene.
“Dale!” Arnesto yelled as he slowed to a walk, the gun in his hand hanging at his side.
Dale turned to Arnesto. “That’s my gun!” he said, walking the same angry walk straight at Arnesto.
Arnesto stopped halfway across the street. He raised the gun and cupped it in his left hand, pointing it at Dale. “Dale, stop! Get down on the ground! I’m making a citizen’s arrest!”
Without the slightest hesitation, Dale started running at Arnesto.
What the…?! Oh, right, he’s crazy. “Fuck!” Arnesto yelled, as he turned and ran back down the street where their cars were parked.
Their running speeds were close, but Arnesto’s legs were a little longer, he was in slightly better shape, and the pure fear he felt gave him the extra oomph he needed to start pulling away from Dale.
Arnesto realized he was one good tire iron throw away from being knocked out or worse. Then Dale would have the gun again. He briefly considered taking out Dale’s tires but decided under the circumstances it would be best to unload the bullets into the brush on the side of the street. Arnesto fired. The noise was deafening as one shot after another went into the ground.
It wasn’t until he was a short ways past Dale’s car that Arnesto decided to look behind him. Dale was way back, still coming at him, but only at a fast walk. Dale stopped as they both saw the flashing police cruiser pass by their street as it approached Angela’s house. Dale turned back to Arnesto and pointed behind him toward the house while he shouted something, but Arnesto’s ears were ringing too loudly to hear what he said.
Arnesto said nothing but flipped him off.
Dale turned and started walking back toward the house. He realized that Dale’s shouting must’ve been a threat to turn Arnesto into the cops. Are you kidding me?! What, is he going to tell them? That I stole the gun he was going to use to murder Angela? Whatever. The police can handle it from here.
Arnesto made it back to his own car, got in, and went home exhausted. It had been a long night full of violence and potential long-term hearing loss. He would anonymously deliver the gun to the police the next day.
When he woke up the next morning, first he checked his phone. No messages. Then he opened his front door. No police holding a warrant with his name on it.
Next, he checked Facebook. Nothing on his wall out of the ordinary. Just the usual nonsense posts from friends, including the myth about entering your PIN backward to thwart would-be muggers at the ATM.
After a quick search, he found Angela’s page. Though a little disappointed her profile was still public to strangers like him, he was definitely relieved to see she was still alive and well. “Nothing like gunshots and the psycho ex bashing in your front door in the middle of the night to give you a heart attack,” she posted. There were, of course, myriad comments from her friends concerned about her welfare. Angela answered many of the questions. Yes, she was definitely going to get a restraining order, for whatever good that would do. Yes, the police took the bad guy away. Yes, she and William were fine. No, she couldn’t explain the gunshots she heard while she was busy frantically getting William out the back. Nor could she explain the mysterious stranger who had tried to warn her.
Arnesto was happy for the anonymous shout-out.
Finally, he remembered to check his online dating profile. There was a message from Paige, which read, “You disappeared kind of quickly last night. I think you’re a really nice guy, but I don’t think we’d make a good match. I wish you luck in your future dating endeavors.” And to think, his former self dated this chick! Whatever.
The Wrong Date
Kelley Park
San Jose, California
Saturday, November 17, 2012
8:56 p.m.
Arnesto didn’t have an extensive romantic background. He dated even less than his former self, since, of the small number of women willing to go out with him, he had already met some of them. No point in having another awkward first date with someone when you knew it wasn’t going to lead anywhere.
That said, he did manage to date a new person every once in a while.
That’s how he met Evelyn, a chipper go-getter several years younger. She was one of the rare women to contact him through the dating site first. She didn’t have a picture posted, but she sounded like fun, so they agreed to meet for a walk through the park.
It was an excellent choice. It turned out Evelyn loved that sort of thing, maybe because it was a way to release some of her extra energy. She loved Mexican, too, so that’s where they went on their second date. The conversation started off well, revealing they had a bunch in common. Arnesto was beginning to feel a hint of chemistry.
But then she had to bring up the subject of work.
“So you’re not working now, but you do a little contracting every now and then?” she asked.
“That’s correct.” He was almost finished with his enchiladas.
“What do you do with all your free time?”
“I play video games and watch movies and… stuff.” He personally had no problem with his lifestyle, but it sounded a little embarrassing to say out loud.
“Do you travel?”
“I get around. When I need to.” He did travel, though he didn’t care for it. It was always stressful, and people constantly died almost everywhere he went.
“I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this,” she said. “I have two jobs, I’m interviewing for another job to replace one, I’m taking classes on the side, and I still feel like I’m not doing enough.”
Uh oh.
She went on, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I find your complete lack of ambition very unattractive." Did she have to emphasise the word, “complete?” Guess it was better than emphasizing “unattractive.”
He paid the bill. She thanked him. They sat in awkward silence, and Arnesto realized it was time for a Hail Mary.
“So, what now, Netflix and Chill?”
“I only watch Netflix when I’m depressed,” she said. First of all, that wasn’t what he meant, but to be fair, the term hadn’t been perverted yet. Second of all, who does that? He knew she would never be the one he could cuddle with on the couch watching a movie every night. “I need to go home,” she said.
They walked out and she got in her car before he could even offer her a handshake. As he drove home, he wo
ndered how someone with all he had to offer could have such bad luck dating. Then again, what did he have to offer? Lies? Secrecy? Low confidence and a “complete lack of ambition”? But he must have some good qualities. He hit it off with women like Katrina and… Rochel. He missed Rochel.
As he parked and walked to his door, he wondered where she was and what she was doing right then. Apparently, she was sitting outside his door waiting for him. Rochel saw him approach, gave him a slight smile, and stood up.
“Hi,” she said.
It took him a second to get over the shock of seeing her. “Hi.”
She looked him up and down and said, “You’re ever so slightly dressed up. Were you on a date?” He nodded. “How’d it go?” He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. He was nervous seeing her again. Rochel laughed, “That well, huh?”
“I don’t expect to hear from her again.”
“Her loss. Arnesto, I need your help. Can I come in?”
They went inside and sat down. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Hot chocolate?” she asked.
“S-sure.” Who the hell asks for hot chocolate? he thought. As he walked into the kitchen, he said, “Given your drink choice, this conversation is neither going to be brief nor serious, correct?”
He peeked out at her. She gave him a knowing grin in return but didn’t respond.
He brought out a hot chocolate and gave it to her.
“Where’s yours?” she asked.
“I don’t want one.”
“I wanted you to have one so it would make you more agreeable. Here, have some of mine.” She held out her cup.
“No thanks.”
“Arnesto, please, it’s important.”
“Fine.” He took the cup and drank a couple sips. “Mmm, good. So, what—”
“My cancer’s back. Don’t drink all of it,” she said, taking the cup back from him.
“What?! I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
She took some sips of her own. “I know you didn’t. It’s okay. Ooh, that is good. See? Aren’t you glad I didn’t ask for water? What are you doing?” She noticed him closing his eyes.
“Let me think.”
“No, Arnesto, it’s okay—”
He shook his head. “We changed history when we saved you. Rochel, you, how do I say this, you never made it this far. I can’t remember anything that might help at this point.”
“I know. It’s okay. Arnesto, there’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do. I’m dying from cancer, but I’ve accepted it, and I hope you can, too.”
“How long?”
“Maybe five months.”
He winced and covered his mouth.
She put down the cup and grabbed his hands. “Arnesto, look at me. I’m okay. Well, emotionally. Not physically, obviously.”
Was she joking?! “Could you hand me the hot chocolate?” he asked. He needed it now.
“Right?” she said, handing him the cup. “Hot chocolate is perfect for a conversation like this.”
“So, if I can’t help you, then how can I… help you?”
“Ugh, I feel sleazy for even having to ask, but you know my insurance won’t cover nearly all my medical costs. So, yeah, I’m doing the gold digger thing.”
“Money, of course. Yes, whatever you need.”
“You’re wonderful, Arnesto. I can’t thank you enough. But there’s more. Do you know why I broke up with you?”
“Because you’re an idiot?” He was lashing out, but he wasn’t angry at her, he was mad at the cancer. It was only her upbeat attitude that kept him from losing it altogether.
“Because I was afraid. Afraid of you, afraid of your memories, afraid of your lies.”
“And?”
She sidled up next to him so that their legs were touching and rubbed her hand through his hair. “I’m not afraid anymore.”
“You want to get back together.”
She nodded. “If you’ll have me. I should warn you, though, I’m not into long-term relationships.”
“My god, you should leave the jokes to me.”
“No, I’m dying, I can do what I want. Like this.” She climbed on top of him and started kissing his neck, but then stopped. “One thing, though, no more lies, unless absolutely necessary. There’s no more need, right? So if you have anything you want to tell me, sooner would be better than later.”
“Agreed.” They began kissing and caressing each other more heavily, and she introduced him to her replacement breasts. He whispered in her ear, “You know, despite the fact that our time together was so short, or perhaps because of it, you always were my favorite wife.”
She tensed. “We were married?!”
He nodded, unsure of how she would react next. “We only did it so you could get on my health insurance, which isn’t an issue this time.”
She shook it off. “Whatever, tell me later. Take off your pants.”
Breathless
United States
Late 2012 - Early 2013
Arnesto took Rochel on a whirlwind tour around the country, crossing items off her bucket list faster than she could add them. They ate exotic foods and stayed in luxurious hotel rooms. They golfed at Pebble Beach and mini-golfed at the Mall of America. They skated in Rockefeller Center and took a Segway tour around the nation’s capital, catching the tail end of President Obama’s second inaugural address. They saw Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark on Broadway and Cirque du Soleil’s O in Las Vegas. They watched from the stands as the Ravens edged out the 49ers in Super Bowl XLVII — once the power outage ended. They even made it to the Carolinas Aviation Museum in Charlotte to see what was left of the aircraft that had dumped them in the Hudson.
Until now, Arnesto had always shunned travel, seeing it as nothing more than a way of getting someplace he needed to be. Thanks to her, he remembered being much older and wishing he had seen more sights when he was able. He never imagined he could have this much fun.
When the list began running low, at his suggestion and after much discussion, they decided to visit her extended family in Ireland.
She would never leave the country.
When they arrived, they received what to Arnesto felt like a hero’s welcome — upward of a dozen relatives were waiting at Rochel’s aunt’s house, elated to see their little Rochie again and grateful to Arnesto for bringing her there.
Any misgivings Rochel had had about seeing her relatives vanished with their friendliness and hospitality. Had she been wrong about her immediate family back in the States? When that subject was broached, her aunts’ and uncles’ collective, profanity-laced tirade assuaged her fear. Arnesto heard phrases like, “bleedin’ thick gobshite pox wagon,” that he tried to file away in his brain for later use. Arnesto and Rochel had never laughed so hard together; she had tears streaming down her face.
At long last, Rochel had a real family again.
When the conversation turned more somber, the family insisted they stay “until the end” so that everyone could help take care of her. Though she didn’t need it then, a few weeks later, Rochel started showing symptoms of decline. To her pleasant surprise, she learned she could have an eco-friendly funeral with a non-religious ceremony. She even picked out a beautiful willow casket in which to be buried in the family plot. However, to prevent any future turmoil with her relatives back in the States, she chose to protect her Ireland family by being cremated with her ashes spread around her aunt’s garden. They did keep an urn with some decoy ashes in it to use as a peace offering should the need arise. As per Rochel’s wishes, they agreed not to inform her immediate family until six months after she had passed, and they were also not to mention Arnesto. They knew Rochel’s family would only come knocking if they thought they had money to inherit. Such gobshites.
Rochel’s condition continued to deteriorate. Just over a month later, while surrounded by loved ones, she turned to Arnesto at her side, smiled, and said, “Thank you, Arnesto. I had a gro
nd time.” She then closed her eyes and slipped away.
The autopsy revealed that Rochel’s cause of death was a tiny tumor on her pancreas that had spread atypically to her breasts, lymph nodes, and elsewhere. Nobody had made a mistake. It would be twenty years before medicine would be able to catch something as unlikely as that. Maybe if Arnesto had ordered the autopsy the first time she died… No, he couldn’t even blame himself as he hadn’t even considered time travel until many decades later. He felt too empty and numb for it to matter anymore.
***
When Arnesto returned to the states, his father was happy to pick him up at the airport. Since the events of 9/11 never happened, Karl was allowed through security and was waiting for him at the arrival gate outside customs. They gave each other a quick hug, then started the long walk toward the parking structure.
“What were you doing in Ireland anyway? Was this a game thing?” Karl asked.
“No, I was there for a girl.”
Karl nudged him with his elbow. “What, couldn’t find a date in America?” Arnesto couldn’t help smiling at the dad joke. “So where is she? Do I get to meet her?”
Arnesto did his best to hide his pain. “We’re not together anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Nothing I haven’t been through before.”
“At least you got to see some of the world. I know you’re not big on adventure. Actually, I’m glad you got into computers. It’s nice not having to worry about you being in a profession that’s unsafe. I was walking around the airport while I was waiting for you and saw a plaque down that way.” He pointed toward the next concourse over. “What was his name, Roy something… Ray! Ray Carroll. The plaque didn’t say much, just that he was a valued member of the security team who died in the line of duty. I mean look around.” He waved his arm around the airport. “Seems like a safe place to work. But what do I know? You can’t even go fishing without worrying about cars.”
Arnesto Modesto: The World's Most Ineffectual Time Traveler Page 25