by Tyra Lynn
He kept his hand on the gearshift the entire time, staring straight ahead. He had gone from smiling and light-hearted to quiet and focused in the blink of an eye. No, in the space of a question. Why had I opened my big mouth?
When we pulled into the driveway, he put the car in neutral, foot on the brake. “My house or yours?” The first words he had spoken the entire drive.
I thought for just a moment. I wasn’t up to seeing his dad. “Mine.” I answered.
He shifted the car into first and turned it off. “I’m sorry, Jessie. I thought this would be easier. It never gets easier.”
Before I could ask what, he was out of the car. He opened my door, put out his hand, and I reached up. I had been so self-absorbed on the drive that the electric jolt nearly made me jump. It didn’t hurt, it never hurt, but it could be jarring when it was unexpected and your mind was preoccupied.
“It’s open,” I told him, looking at the door.
He swung it open and we walked inside. “Something to drink?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
He went straight to the cabinet with the glasses. It felt strange watching him in my house. I was so used to it being Dad and me, sometimes Julie, but never anyone else. He seemed to have purpose, moving from the cabinet, to the refrigerator, pouring lemonade. He looked comfortable, like he’d done it before, just like this.
He handed me a glass and took a drink from his own, then took my free hand and turned toward the door, heading, I knew, for my room. I didn’t feel ‘squinched up’ going through the house this time. I simply followed him, feeling his fingers and the palm of his hand against my own.
When we reached the third floor, instead of going to my room, he led me to the library. He opened the door, releasing my hand, and walked to the roll top desk, sliding it open. He leaned down, pulled out the cigar box, and opened it.
On top was the picture of my mom, the one with the name ‘Analise’ on back. He picked it up, setting the box down. “This is your mother?” He asked.
“Yes, Eliana. That’s my mother.”
He flipped it over, ran his finger across the name on the back, closing his eyes. He flipped it back to the front and held it up. “You are your mother’s daughter.” Just like my dad had said.
He looked around the room, saw the scanner, and walked to it with the picture. He opened the top, placed the picture in, and closed it. He pushed the ‘copy’ button and waited until it printed, then removed and folded the paper carefully. He put it in the pocket of his jeans, never looking at me.
Gabriel placed the photo carefully back in the box, closed it, put it on the shelf, and closed the roll top. He crossed to me, taking my hand, and led me out the door and to my room.
“What are you doing?” I asked when it became too much.
He stopped and faced me, his face softening for a moment. “Perhaps the most important thing I have ever done, but hopefully not the most important I will ever do.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. I searched his eyes for a clue, but found none. “I’m still trying to help you find out about your mother.”
He turned and walked straight to my mirror. I watched him closely, intently. He just stood there a moment, and then brushed something off his shirt, letting out a deep sigh. I didn’t see a thing, but it felt like the air fluttered, then he turned back and smiled, put his arm around me and guided me to the bed.
He sat on the edge, pulling me with him. When he put a hand on my cheek I could feel what he was doing, I could feel the energy surrounding me, warm and crackling. He was staring into my eyes, and then glanced at my lips. I felt the pull and moved toward him.
He kissed me softly, slowly, deeply. The slowest, most delicious kiss ever, and all the fireworks before paled, were replaced with something bigger and brighter and all consuming. I could barely think. It felt like he was inside of me, tangling every part of us together in such a way that we could never be untangled. It felt like ribbons of energy, twining around every muscle, every bone, and every organ.
I wondered if I could do the same to him. I could feel his presence like a living thing, inside and out, but could he feel me that way? I wanted him to, I wanted him to feel me being a part of him, and I wanted him to know I was there inside, inseparable.
I imagined the ribbons of energy I could feel wrapping around me, generated my own, and sent them in search of every part of him, weaving like vines in and through flesh, blood, and bone. I felt him tremble against me, his mouth still locked on mine in that deepest of kisses. He pulled me as tight, as close, as flesh allowed—but even our flesh felt like no true barrier.
He pulled his mouth away a moment. “I believe that is the closest two separate beings can come to being one in every way.” His breath was raspy, and labored.
I took a deep breath and held it. “Not in every way, Gabriel.” I whispered.
He put his lips to my forehead. “Not this time, Jessie. Not until I find you again. Not until there’s nothing but death left to try and separate us.”
I could feel that vibrating conflict inside him again; I could feel the restraint it took, wondered if there was a weakness there to take advantage of. I was sure I could find it, if I tried. Would it be so wrong to do? Would it be wrong to manipulate, to find a way to break him down?
I let out a sigh. Yes, it would be wrong. If I had to think of it as ‘breaking him down,’ then it would be wrong. I couldn’t ‘break’ Gabriel. I loved him, and you don’t break someone you love. I gasped. Ohmigod.
“What? What’s wrong?” He leaned away enough to look into my eyes.
“I love you.” I felt—stunned? Why did the thought surprise me? Hadn’t I always known?
His eyes closed slowly, and then reopened, blazing, burning into my own. “That’s the first time you’ve told me.”
“It is?” I was surprised. How could I have gone sixty-two days before and not told him?
“Yes.” His expression looked wounded.
“Is that a bad thing?” My heart suddenly hurt. Why didn’t he look happy?
“You’ve just done the impossible.” He pulled me back close, tight.
“What? What did I do?”
“Made the most difficult thing in the world even more difficult.” He whispered.
It was my turn to lean back, to look at him. He wouldn’t meet my eyes at first, kept them looking down and off to the side. I had to take his face in my hands and will him to look at me. I was shocked by what I saw in them, sadness, and fear.
I could barely take in enough air to ask. “What are you so afraid of?”
His eyes closed and I willed him to open them again, to look me in the eye as he answered. “I’m afraid of losing you.”
“But—but, you said time would go back, and that you would find me again. How could you lose me if you can find me? I won’t—I can’t—forget you. You’re part of me, I feel you.”
“You feel me now, here. That will change.”
“No, it won’t change. I remember things. I remember things from before. I’ll remember again.” I insisted.
“Jessie, it was only days. It was only days, and they were repeating. Of course you remember something. You already saw me, it’s never gone beyond that, not once. It won’t be the same with years between.”
Did he say years? Years? “Did you say years?” I had to have heard wrong. I prayed I heard wrong. He wouldn’t look at me again, so I shook him. “Answer me, Gabriel!”
His eyes opened. They were watery. I wasn’t sure if it was tears, or had been caused by him squeezing his eyes closed so tight. His shoulders shook just a little, and fear raced up my spine.
I felt dizzy. “Gabriel, please tell me. Please.”
He let air out through his nose. He had been holding his breath, and I felt his shoulders sag with the release. It reminded me of the old cliché about sails losing their wind. He felt limp.
He said one word. “Yes.”
“How many?” I tried to stay calm. I had been prepared t
o lose a few months, maybe, but not years. My mind reeled.
“I honestly don’t know. I have an idea, but it’s only an idea, only a guess.” His eyes told me he was being honest. His father didn’t want him to know. This was why.
“How long? How long do we have—before?” My temples were starting to throb.
“Not long.”
I wanted to cry, but there were no tears. “Can you stay with me? Can you stay until it happens?”
“It’s why I’m here. I’m here for you.” It’s why I’m here. I’m here for you.
“I’m afraid, Gabriel.”
“So am I.”
I released him and crawled up in my bed. When I was stressed or anxious, I always grabbed a pillow, held on to it and squeezed. “Come be my pillow.” I said.
He seemed to understand. He crawled up beside me and I wrapped my arms around him, let him enfold me in his. I placed my head on his chest, listening to the fast rhythm of his heart. It began to slow beneath my ear, became steadier. I could feel my own finding the same rhythm as our breathing fell into sync.
I wondered if this was how inmates on death row felt on the day of execution. You knew it was coming, were helpless to stop it, all you could do was wait for the inevitable. I wanted to talk, but I couldn’t find words. Words seemed meaningless, and they would change nothing.
“I love you, Gabriel.”
“I love you too, Jessie.”
“I won’t forget you. I don’t care how many days, or years, or decades, or beyond.” I leaned back, pulled him to kiss me.
It wasn’t a goodbye kiss. It was an ‘I’ll always love you’ kiss. Souls intertwined. I was afraid, but I believed with all my heart that we would find each other. I had to believe that, or nothing in the world would mean anything. There would be no purpose to life. I loved him, and he loved me. There had to be fate.
“If today were all I’m to ever have, it’s more than I deserve,” he whispered. “More than I should have had.”
This moment of joy was worth all the moments of sadness that would surely come. I would remember him this time. This one moment is what I would hold on to—in my memory, in my dreams, in my heart.
“Succumb tempor adiuvat.” He said quietly, almost to himself.
“What does that mean?”
“Who yields to time finds time on his side—loosely translated.”
“You’ll come back?” I asked.
“Pro te, milies aeterno.” He placed my hand on his heart.
“And that means?”
“For you, a thousand times eternity.”
I believed.
I could feel a shift in the air, could hear the faintest crackling sound. I thought of my dad at the store, of Steve, of Julie and Auntie. They would all be here; they would still be here, no matter when it started over. Maybe I had somehow learned something, something that would make life better for us all. Probably not, but I could hope. I would pretend it was an adventure, a do-over. I would be a better me somehow, until Gabriel found me again.
I felt his arms tighten. “I love you. Please don’t forget me this time. I’ll be there somewhere, in your heart.”
I felt those ribbons reach out and inside again and I did the same. Arms, bodies, souls—everything possible within us we wrapped around each other and held on as tight as possible.
“I love you too, Gabriel. I won’t forget. You’ll see.”
His lips met mine one last time, and then I heard the snap.
CHAPTER XXX
There is no fence or hedge ‘round time that has gone.
You can go back and have what you like—if you remember it well enough.
—Richard Llewellyn
One week left of summer. One week until my last year of school.
It had been a good summer. Julie came home early from Houston and we had spent the last week running all over everywhere, just being kids before we had to buckle down for the school year. I had stayed at her house last night, and we’d had a great time.
After Steve freaked me out asking for a date last week, I’d decided to play matchmaker. I tried to convince Julie she should consider going out with Steve. He was such a sweet guy, not like some of the morons she had dated. He might not be my type, but he was hers, and besides that, he was gorgeous. I would have to work on Steve a little more, convince him to ask her out. They obviously liked each other, so I couldn’t figure out what the hold-up was. Oh well, whatever was meant to be would happen, eventually.
I parked the Toyota in the driveway and unlocked the back door. I was so glad I’d be driving myself to school this year instead of having to ride with Julie. I couldn’t believe my dad had convinced Steve to sell it to him. I’d had it since my birthday, but I still looked out my window at night sometimes to make sure it was really there.
It was Monday, and the house was empty. I carried my stuff upstairs to put away, then took a quick bath. I glanced at myself in the mirror as I got out and dried off. I still loved my new hair. Julie had convinced me to get a makeover last week, and I was happy with the results.
We’d also gone shopping, so my chiffarobe was full of new clothes. Even so, I pulled out one of my older shirts, a little white eyelet blouse, and a pair of faded cutoffs. I felt like feeling comfy today.
I heard a car pull into the driveway below so I peeked out my window. I saw the little silver Malibu and figured I had better pick up the pace. I should have been home earlier, but Julie and I had lost track of time and I’d had to rush.
I grabbed my phone and purse and took off down the stairs. I was in such a hurry I almost forgot to lock the door behind me. I had no idea what was up, but it sure seemed important. At least to some people.
I opened the car door, plopped down in the seat and buckled in. “So what is this big important thing, Mom?”
Mom looked at me with those huge, innocent brown eyes. “Just something.” She laughed as we backed out. “You’ll have to be patient.”
“Mom!” I said in a whiny voice, stomping my feet in mock irritation.
“Let’s just say I met someone on one of my travels. He owns something that I want you to have. We have to go to his house to pick it up, though. Besides, you’ll love the house. Trust me.”
Sometimes she could be so cryptic. I guess that comes with keeping secrets, that habit of never quite saying exactly what you’re saying. I did it too, but only when Mom and I were around other people. Even then, if you did it too much it became obvious to others. It was a fine line, and better just to not talk about stuff at all in front of others, unless absolutely necessary.
“It’s just the two of us, we can talk you know.” I muttered.
“I know, but this is supposed to be a surprise, don’t you get it? I’m not telling you anything because it’s supposed to be a surprise. Don’t ruin it for me.” She poked out her bottom lip.
“You are so goofy.” I shook my head at her.
“It’s why everybody loves me.” She grinned.
That was true. Everybody did love Mom. She had a magnetic personality. What they didn’t know is that it really was—magnetic, that is. I laughed.
“What?” She asked.
“Nothing. Just thinking about your ‘magnetic personality.’ Doesn’t seem fair since you sell people things.”
“It helps the business.”
“You don’t think of it as cheating?” I asked.
“Not at all. People have free will. I just ‘suggest,’ they still get to choose.” Free will.
We drove out of town a ways and she started slowing at the entrance to a driveway. I recognized the place. Farther up the road, if you looked back, you could just see the mansard roof peeking over the trees.
Mom had always been curious about this house, so it made me wonder what in the world she would be buying from here. Normally she was the level-headed one, but if she was going to get in that house, she might buy anything.
The driveway wound like a giant snake through tall, stately trees.
I looked all around the property and got the strangest feeling of déjà vu. “I think there is a gazebo over there somewhere.” I said, pointing.
Sure enough, it game into view as we got closer to the house. I could vaguely picture the inside of it. I looked around at the gazebo, the front of the house, the trees. It felt like watching through giant heat waves.
“I feel weird.” I said.
“Weird how, honey?”
“I don’t know. Like I’ve been here before. It’s not like glimpses though; I don’t ‘see’ anything.” I explained.
“You never checked it out in the past? I did, once.” She put the car in park.
“No, I never have. I don’t come here, it’s just too weird. It’s easier when it’s not people you know, or their families.”
“I just made sure I went far enough back.” She smiled mischievously.
“Whatever works for you. I don’t want to do it.”
A man appeared at the door. He looked about Mom and Dad’s age, but more ‘distinguished.’ He just had that certain look. He smiled a friendly smile and waved.
“Open your door quick if you don’t want it opened for you. He’s the old-fashioned type, I think.” Mom grinned and opened her door.
I opened mine, too, and got out before he could make it down the stairs. He continued forward anyway and met us at the bottom of the stairway. His eyes met mine, and there was something so familiar about them. They were so blue, a beautiful mixture of darks and lights. I imagined he was quite a handsome young man back in the day. He was handsome now, for an older man. And he was one of us.
“Jessie, this is Mr. Knight. Mr. Knight, my daughter, Jessie.”
He held out his hand for me, and I placed mine in it. “Hello, Jessie. So good to see you.” He kissed the back of my hand politely.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Knight.” Thomas. It sounded like the last echo in a series of echoes. I held still until he released my hand.
He greeted Mom similarly, and they exchanged brief pleasantries. I looked up at the house while they talked; my eyes were drawn to the third floor window. It was open, and white curtains were dancing in the breeze. I couldn’t see behind them, but I kept imagining someone was there. I wondered if I could reach out to them, see who they were. I could feel them trying to block me, trying to protect themselves, maybe. Interesting. It made me nosey.