The Five Times I Met Myself

by James L. Rubart

  Brock didn’t want to understand the analogy and didn’t ask for an explanation.

  “Yeah, I might not have a home, but I’m not homeless.” Yukon spread his arms wide and gazed over the vast array of mountains. “Got everything I need on my back, and this is my front yard, backyard, living room, and kitchen. No mansion on earth can compare.”

  Brock pulled himself out of the memory and gazed up at the jagged peak of Golden Horn in the distance. A moment later he saw movement on the trail one hundred yards away. A royal blue backpack moved along in quick rhythm. It took Brock only a few seconds to know it was himself. Brock strode toward his younger self, amazed at how real the dream felt. Not only what he was seeing, but feeling as well. The cool breeze, the strain on his legs as he pushed forward to catch himself.

  The scene morphed, and he stood on the beach in front of a home down on the Oregon coast while a storm raged out over the ocean. But he pulled it back in seconds. He was definitely getting better at controlling these dreams.

  When he got to within thirty yards, he called out. “Brock!”

  His younger self stopped, turned, and stared. “Yeah?”

  Brock closed the gap. “Can I talk to you?”

  “Do we know each other?” He stared at Brock with a puzzled expression.

  “Not really.”

  “You are?” But recognition swept over his face. He pointed at Brock with an incredulous look. “What in the world? It’s you, isn’t it? The bizarre guy from Morgan’s coffee shop last year. Unbelievable.”

  “You remember me?”

  “With that act of yours, you’re kind of hard to forget.” His countenance was full of caution. “It’s hard to forget a guy who predicts you’ll meet a girl named Karissa and then it happens. However you did it, that was a nice trick.”

  “How long have you been dating?”

  It would interesting if the dream version of himself would give the correct date they started seeing each other.

  “You tell me, Future Brock.” His younger self pulled off his pack and leaned it against a large boulder on the side of the trail. “What in the world are you doing up here?”

  “Looking for you.”

  The look on Young Brock’s face said that wasn’t the best answer. He understood why. Even inside a dream, his younger self would react in a realistic way. Bumping into himself at Java Spot was one thing. Seeing each other on a remote trail in the Cascade Mountains seventy-five miles from the closest town was another.

  “Without any kind of a pack? Water? Who are you really, and why are you stalking me? And tell me the trick. How did you know I would meet a girl named Karissa? Lucky guess?”

  Brock twisted his head and felt for a daypack. Nothing. “I’m not stalking you.”

  “You’re just a hiker out for a stroll, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  A marmot skittered across the trail as his younger self laughed and said, “Sure you are.”

  “I am.”

  “Where’d you come from? Rainy? Are you trying to get back there before night? That’s another twelve miles, so unless you’re planning to jog the rest of the way, I’d turn around.”

  “I’m in a dream, remember?”

  “Oh yeah.” Young Brock gave his forehead a mock slap. “Right. And I’m just a part of that dream. Not real.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  His younger self picked up his pack and cinched it up. “This is weird, I have to tell you. You coming up here, finding me.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll leave as soon as I tell you something.”

  “Fine.” Young Brock hoisted his pack higher on his hips. “Then get yourself back to the highway.”

  “Will do. First, you changed things. You went to Alaska two more times than I did.”

  “I did, huh?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Is that it? Are we done?” His younger self turned to go.

  “I want to try an experiment if you’re up for it.”

  “Oh sure, Future Me, anything to help you feel like you’re living like Doc Brown.”

  “In 2003, Steve Miller is going to release a more comprehensive collection of his band’s greatest hits. I bought his first greatest-hits album, but never this updated version. Buy it for me, all right?”

  “Again, why not?” Young Brock pointed at him and grinned. “I’ve always kind of liked Steve Miller, and if it makes you happy, F. B., I’ll do it.”

  Chapter 14

  SEPTEMBER 1986

  Brock’s sky-blue ’74 Volkswagen Super Beetle sputtered as he threw it into third gear. Two emotions fought for his attention. The first, excitement about his date with Karissa; the second, his frustration over not being able to stop thinking about the old guy who claimed to be him in the future. That was impossible, so then who was he? And why had he targeted Brock?

  At the park, Brock stretched while he waited for Karissa to show. She arrived a few minutes later wearing dark-blue spandex, a purple windbreaker, and that radiant smile that soaked him in warmth every time he saw it. No makeup, hair tied on top of her head, and still stunning. She grabbed him around the waist, squeezed tight, then released him and jogged away. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

  Brock grinned and broke into a run to catch up to her. When he did, she yanked on his sweatshirt. “Think you can keep up with me today?”

  “Gotta keep hope alive.”

  “Good.” Karissa picked up her pace. “I need a full workout and I don’t want any weak links in the chain holding me back.”

  “We’re chains?”

  “A chain of fools.”

  “You’re too young to know that song.”

  “So are you, but you still know it.”

  “That’s because I was forced to play it in my high-school rock band days. Morgan loved it, and since he was the leader . . .”

  They buzzed past walkers and slower joggers down the Burke-Gilman Trail—built over the top of an old Eastern Railway corridor—which ran from Seattle’s Gas Works Park all the way out to Lake Sammamish twenty-seven miles away.

  Cyclists decked out in sunglasses and bright form-fitting tops and shorts zipped past them, calling out, “On your left!” as they sped by. Women pushing baby strollers ambled past them going the other direction. The trail was bordered on each side with an ample assortment of maple trees, thick with huge green leaves that filtered the sun.

  When they passed Matthews Beach, the right side of the trail opened to opulent houses that sat on the shore of Lake Washington, and that’s when Brock broached the subject he’d hesitated to bring up.

  “I have something to tell you”—Brock sucked in a breath and tried to talk without gasping; Karissa might get the impression he was winded—“that’s on the far side of bizarre.”

  “Oh?” Karissa glanced at him with eyebrows raised and slowed her pace slightly.

  “I recently had an, um, interesting conversation with an extremely strange man.”

  “Where did you meet said man?”

  “First time? Last year, at Morgan’s, before I met you. Second time when I hiked the PCT a few weeks back.” Brock hesitated, then dove into the deep end. “He says when we met, he wasn’t really there, he was dreaming. And that I wasn’t real, just part of his dream.”

  “Okay, I’m starting to get the bizarre part.” Karissa glanced at him with narrowed eyes. “Who is he?”

  They passed a pair of young girls who struggled to stay upright on their roller skates.

  “I don’t know.”

  “He didn’t tell you his name?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “That’s the even more bizarre part.” Brock pointed his finger at his head and tapped it. “He says we’re related.”

  “How?”

  Brock waited till they passed a man riding a recumbent bike so slowly it seemed a miracle he stayed upright.

  “He claims to be me.”

>   Karissa jerked her head toward him and laughed. “He what?”

  “That’s what he says, that he’s me. Me from the future.”

  Karissa wiggled her fingers. “How exciting.”

  “He’s serious.”

  “Me too!” She grinned, maneuvered closer, and punched him lightly on his arm. “I’ve always wanted to talk to myself in the future. Can you ask him to send me back next time? I know I’d be up for it.”

  “Good news. I still have all my hair.”

  It helped to joke about the subject, but the anxiety inside still churned like an avalanche.

  “Wonderful. I like your hair.” Karissa’s smile faded. “I can tell this is bothering you. Who is he really?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  Brock fell in behind Karissa for a few paces as a slew of cyclists approached from the opposite direction and whizzed past them.

  “I’m thinking riding this trail might be more fun than running it.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me you’re out of shape and can’t hack my torrid pace?”

  “Can’t admit that. Twenty-four-year-old males are required to maintain their macho image at all times. No weaknesses allowed ever.”

  “What about late last summer when we did the Crystal Mountain Summit run?”

  “You mean me throwing up at the top?”

  “Um-hmm.”

  “That was to make you feel better.”

  Karissa smiled and slowed to a steady jog. Brock’s breathing grew more rhythmic and his lungs stopped burning with the fires of Hades. “Will I ruin your image of me if I say thank you?”

  “Not in the slightest.” Karissa slowed a bit more and gave him a serious look. “Can we talk a few more minutes about this future you?”

  “Sure.”

  “When he showed up last year at Java Spot, did Morgan talk to him too?”

  “No, I’m sure Morgan saw him, but the place was busy and he didn’t come over to the table.”

  “Why haven’t you told me about it till now?”

  “Because I thought he was some harmless wacko, but the more I think about it . . .”

  “You don’t anymore? You think he’s dangerous?”

  “No, not dangerous. I actually kind of like the guy.” Brock paused to breathe. “It’s just that . . .”

  “What?”

  “There’s no way he should know some of the things he knows.”

  “In other words, Morgan is playing one of his practicals on you. The Joke Master strikes again.”

  “Exactly what I’m thinking.”

  A few paces later, the trail opened up on their right to the parking lot for Log Boom Park. Twenty or so cars dotted the concrete. Halfway to the end of the lot, Karissa slowed to a walk and Brock followed her lead.

  “You ready for a break?” Karissa glanced at her watch. “We’ve been doing seven-and-a-half-minute miles for forty-five minutes now, and I’m feeling the burn.”

  “Sure, if you need to.” Brock stopped and grinned as he leaned forward with both hands on his knees and drew in deep breaths of the crisp September air.

  “I’m getting the distinct feeling this guy’s knowing things he shouldn’t know is the precursor to a serious conversation.”

  “Could be.”

  “Then let’s go out to the end of the dock and have a serious conversation.”

  They strolled out to the end of the pier that jutted two hundred feet into Lake Washington. Only a few boats dotted the water.

  They reached the end and sat with their legs hanging over the water.

  “I can’t get some of the things he’s told me out of my mind.” Brock glanced at Karissa. “Like I said, impossible for him to know them.”

  “You’re not serious.” Karissa pulled back and narrowed her eyes. “You don’t actually think this guy—”

  “No way. Of course not.”

  “You do!” She laughed.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Why would you even entertain an idea like that?”

  “Probably because of Paul.”

  “Paul your cousin?”

  “No. Paul in the New Testament, the one God took up into heaven to take a look around.” Brock turned and faced Karissa. “If God can do something like that, or take Enoch up without him physically dying, or take John into a vision where he’s a time traveler, seeing the future, why couldn’t he do something like this?”

  “I’m not saying he couldn’t, but even with bringing God into it, you do realize how completely insane you sound?”

  “Without question.” He grabbed a splinter of wood that had come loose from the dock and tossed it into the water.

  “And you also realize you can’t talk to anyone about this, right?”

  “I didn’t even want to talk to you about it.”

  “Just so you know . . .” She took his hand. “I don’t think you’re crazy to consider all possibilities.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So when do I get to meet your imaginary friend?” Karissa giggled. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

  “Not funny.”

  “I thought it was.”

  “Okay, it was a little funny.” Brock sighed.

  “So what’s the biggest thing this guy knew that he shouldn’t have known? The thing that keeps you from letting it all go?”

  Brock studied Karissa’s face. She still thought it was a joke, he could tell, but this might push her out of the world of humor. And that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.

  “At the first meeting, he told me I was going to break up with Sheila and start dating a girl named Karissa. This was a whole month before I met you.”

  Karissa’s eyes went wide. “Okay, that is definitely weird.”

  “I realize it was probably just a lucky guess, but still . . .”

  “What else did he say about us?”

  “He apparently thinks a great deal of you.”

  Karissa smiled and told him with her eyes she knew what that meant. She was definitely a treasure, without question the greatest thing in his life. And by the time the Pacific Northwest leaves dropped from the trees next year, he would ask if she wanted to commit to going through the rest of their earthly existence together, forever and ever amen.

  He took Karissa’s hand and she squeezed it tight. “Your older, wiser self seems to be saying there’s an extended future for us.”

  “Apparently, yes.” Brock drew her face to his and kissed her deeply.

  When they pulled away, Karissa took Brock’s face in both her hands and peered deep into his eyes. “I think I like Future Brock.”

  “Yeah, I thought you would.”

  “So you really think Morgan set this whole thing up?”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out tonight.”

  Chapter 15

  That evening, Brock sat at his usual table in Java Spot, waiting for Morgan to close up his dad’s business, and tried to make sense of his two encounters with the old guy who claimed to be him. The guy’s hair had thinned and was going gray, but the color still showed a healthy amount of the dark brown it must have been earlier in his life. Same color as Brock’s. Then there was his amber eyes. Again, the same color.

  And there was a quality about the man that mesmerized Brock. Confidence? Maybe. But it was more than that. The man carried himself in a way that reminded him of . . .

  He shook it off and stopped trying to figure it out. He glanced over at Morgan as his friend wiped down the reclaimed-wood countertop. Morgan was the answer. Had to be. All this was one of his friend’s strange practical jokes. What other possibility was there? If only he could get rid of that infinitesimal shred of doubt. No, there was no doubt. There were only two possibilities: Morgan had set him up, or the old guy was crazy. But the old guy had been over-the-top sincere, which is the part that weirded Brock out the most. That and the things Future Brock knew.

  A few minutes later, Morgan finished up and sauntered over to him with a ceramic m
ug full of coffee.

  “Why the night visit and not out with Karissa?”

  “I saw her earlier today.”

  “What else? I see it pushing to get out.”

  Brock motioned toward the chair across from him, and Morgan plopped into it.

  “Last year, I had a strange encounter with a man right here in your shop. I blew it off. Wasn’t worth mentioning to you, although now I wish I had. But then he showed up again during my hike on the PCT a few weeks back. Just wondering if you had anything to do with the guy.”

  “Do with him?”

  “Like putting him up to messing with my mind.”

  “How is he messing with you?”

  There wasn’t a hint of playfulness in Morgan’s eyes. Didn’t surprise Brock. In the years they’d played poker together, his friend had never shown any tells. Stone Face was the nickname Brock and his friends had given Morgan.

  “Is this the moment where you tell me you had nothing to do with my two meetings with the guy?”

  “I had nothing to do with your two meetings with the guy.”

  “He put on a masterful performance. Did you coach him on what to say?”

  “Who is him?”

  “You serious?” Brock tilted his head forward. “You didn’t set this up?”

  “I didn’t set up anything.” Morgan stared deep into Brock’s eyes. “You’re a little freaked, pal. I can see it. What’s going on?”

  If Morgan hadn’t set it up and Future Brock wasn’t crazy, then someone was playing him. Someone who knew more than most people did about Brock’s life. But who? And more importantly, why?

  “You know what he told me?” Brock shook his head. “Told me he was me, thirty years from now. I guess it would be twenty-nine years at this point.”

  Morgan’s thin smile grew into a full-out grin. “You have got to be kidding.”

  “No. Told me I was going to meet Karissa a whole month before you introduced us.”

  “This guy should call himself Amazing Brockdini.” Morgan pulled the towel off his shoulder and wiped the maple-wood table. “That it?”

  “Told me the first time we met I should go on a fishing trip with my dad, then the second time told me I’d done it.”

  “But you haven’t done it yet, because it’s still in your future.”