by Jahn, Amalie
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he added. With that, he moved around in front of me to where his mother and sister were sitting and caught them in a similar embrace. The noise of the swimming complex made it impossible for me to make out their conversation, but it was evident through their body language as I watched Charlie speaking to his mother, that there was mutual love and respect between them. Finally, he turned to welcome Branson.
“Hey Buddy!” he called. “Thanks for coming.”
Branson smiled. “This will be fun!” he said back. I alone knew he was not referring to the swimming.
Charlie climbed back up the bleachers so that he could sit beside me to explain how the meet would progress. I made every attempt to follow along with what he was saying, but with his close proximity, I was forced to dedicate most of my energy into remembering to breathe.
It seemed that, for a majority of the evening, Charlie would be restricted to the pool deck with his team. However, he promised that he would try to visit us if time allowed. Unable to form a coherent thought, I thanked God silently that I would not be in a position to have to make a lot of conversation with him in his current state. I could not believe I had been so completely unprepared. Surely I had not thought he would be swimming in a parka. I admonished myself for being so stupid.
As I watched Charlie carefully maneuvering his way back down the bleachers to the deck, I let out a huge sigh of relief. Branson, who had been surreptitiously watching my every move, could no longer contain himself, erupting into a fit of hysterics.
“That was worth the price of admission, Sis,” he declared when he was finally able to speak. I responded by punching him in the arm.
“Stupid bathing suits,” I said finally, sending Branson into yet another spasm of laughter. “It’s not funny,” I continued, suddenly unable to contain my own giggles.
“Yeah. Imagine that. Bathing suits at a pool. Never saw that coming,” Branson continued to tease.
I watched Charlie standing with his team directly across the pool from where we were seated. He was smiling and joking with a small group of boys. It was interesting to watch him from a distance and I was reminded of the first time I had seen him from across the vacant lot during my first trip. I closed my eyes, grateful for the miracle of second chances.
The swim meet itself turned out to be fascinating. I was eventually able to look past the fact that everyone around me was practically naked and could concentrate on each individual race. Charlie was swimming in five events, which included two relays and three individual races. In a word, he was amazing. Watching him swim was like watching poetry in motion. He was flawless, his limbs masterfully propelling him through the water as though he was more fish than man. He qualified in each event, which ensured that he would be swimming the following night at the final competition. By the end of the evening, I was left with but a whisper for a voice, having spent so much energy cheering for Charlie’s team.
Showered and fully clothed, Charlie found the four of us waiting in the parking lot for him. After the immediate hugs and congratulations, we all piled into the SUV. Melody and Branson sat on the center bench and Charlie and I sat in the back.
In the privacy and darkness of the back seat, Charlie pulled me close, practically sitting me in his lap. I laid my head against his chest, exhausted from the excitement of the night. He ran his fingers through my hair, brushing my cheek each time.
“You are an amazing swimmer,” I told him.
“It just takes practice,” he said humbly, “like anything else.”
“No. You are really good,” I continued. “I loved watching you. Thanks for inviting me.”
“You are coming to finals again tomorrow, right?” he asked.
“Of course,” I replied. “At least I’ll know what to expect now!”
“Yeah, it’s a little overwhelming,” Charlie agreed, assuming I was referring to the swimming portion of the evening.
“No kidding,” I said, laughing at my own inside joke.
We sat silently, hand in hand, for the remainder of the drive home, listening to Branson and Melody singing along with the radio together in the seat in front of us. As the car pulled into my driveway, Charlie kissed me gently on the top of the head.
“See ya tomorrow,” he said happily.
I kissed him on the cheek. “See ya tomorrow,” I said.
The final competition was very similar to the preliminaries. Branson was working at the hardware store, so I was on my own for the second night with Mrs. Johnson and Melody. Even though I tried to prepare myself mentally for seeing Charlie again in his revealing racing suit, I still found it difficult to look him in the eye with so many people around. I spent the entire evening smiling and blushing and trying not to fixate on imagining Charlie out of his suit all together.
My favorite events of the meet were the relays. Charlie swam in the 4X100 men’s freestyle relay as the anchor leg and swam butterfly in the 4X100 men’s medley relay. Watching him compete with his teammates, cheering them on and using every ounce of strength within him, I could feel his passion for the sport that he loved. Not surprisingly, Charlie placed in all five of his events, and I beamed with pride alongside his family as he accepted his medals on the podium at the conclusion of the meet.
Holding hands as we crossed the parking lot on the way to the car, a few of Charlie’s teammates approached us.
“Hey Charlie, are you coming to the party Friday night at Pasta Palace?” a short boy with shaggy brown hair inquired.
“We’re going to do our end-of-the-season superlatives and give Coach his gift,” a slender, exotic looking girl added.
“Yeah. Sure. I’ll be there,” he replied. Then he continued, turning to me, “Brooke, do you want to come too?” he asked.
“Are we doing team members only?” the girl asked the brown haired boy.
“I don’t think so,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess girlfriends can come.”
Charlie smirked slyly at me, evidently pleased with the newfound knowledge that, according to the members of the swim team, he and I were official. I could hardly believe that for the first time ever, Brooke Wallace had a boyfriend.
“So, do you want to come?” Charlie asked again.
“Can’t refuse an invitation from my boyfriend,” I smiled.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
As winter progressed, my life fell into a blissful routine. There were days that went by that I forgot altogether that I was not living in the present. When the realization would creep up on me that I was, in fact, on borrowed time, I consoled myself with the knowledge that everything that was happening was resetting my timeline and would be my new past when I did eventually return to the present. Branson would be there, and so would Charlie.
Despite the two and a half year difference in age, Branson and Charlie had become fast friends. I found no greater joy than seeing them together, roughhousing or discussing class assignments. On several occasions, I even heard Branson asking Charlie for advice about Jill. It warmed my heart to know that Branson looked to him as a confidant. And where some girls might have been annoyed at having to share their boyfriend with their brother, I was relieved that I did not have to choose to spend time with one over the other.
On a particularly snowy Sunday afternoon in January, Branson, Charlie and I were playing video games together in Branson’s room. Out of nowhere, Charlie brought up time travel.
“Have you guys ever thought about using your trip?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Yeah, all the time,” Branson answered. It was news to me.
“Oh really?” I encouraged him, raising an eyebrow. “What for?”
“Nothing specific yet, but I would like to use mine at some point,” he said. “I wish it was different though. I wish you could go back to whenever, not just in your own life. There’s so much history I’d love to witness first hand. I’m waiting for something monumental to happen during my life so that I can go back and watch it a
gain, knowing it’s going to happen, to observe how people react. Like, wouldn’t it be cool to go see the moon landing, not for the actual landing itself, but to see people’s reactions in real time? Or the fall of the Berlin Wall? Or September 11th? I guess it would be like a sociology study. Maybe the Mars mission will pan out soon and I’ll go back to see how that went down. Or maybe there will be a gigantic volcanic eruption!”
Charlie and I just stared at him, taking in his soliloquy.
“You’re a smart kid Branson,” Charlie observed.
“Nah, I just love history,” he said, attempting humility. However, the smile on his face revealed the pleasure he took from Charlie’s unsolicited compliment.
Charlie turned to me. “What about you Brooke?”
It took considerable effort to keep from laughing aloud, given my state of affairs. Without time to come up with a plausible response, I decided just to tell the truth.
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” I replied.
“Oh really?” Branson piped up, mimicking my response. “What for?”
“Well,” I began, “I’d use it to save a life if I had to.”
“That’s against the law Brooke,” Charlie said. “You can’t change the past.”
“You can,” I replied smiling, “you just can’t get caught.”
“Save a life, huh,” Charlie said, clearly deep in thought. “Whose life would be worthy of a trip?”
“Yours,” I replied, and then turning towards Branson, “and yours.”
“That’s a big deal,” Charlie reflected. “What if you messed up and ruined everything? What if it didn’t work and you made things worse?”
“At least I would have tried,” I said.
“What about fate. And destiny?” he continued.
“What about them?” I replied, winking at him as I climbed onto his lap. “Maybe I make my own destiny.”
“You can’t change fate Brooke,” he said seriously, holding me at arm’s length. Then suddenly, his demeanor changed, and he pulled me close saying huskily, “However, this is a side of you I haven’t seen before. I didn’t have you pegged as a rebel, breaking all the rules. It’s kind of sexy.”
There was a cough from the other side of the room. “I’m still here guys,” Branson declared.
“Okay,” I said, pulling away from Charlie and turning to face him head on, “what about you? Do you have a plan for your trip?”
He did not speak immediately, as if reflecting upon the best way to explain what he was about to say. He scratched at his forehead and bit on his thumbnail for a few seconds. At last, he spoke.
“There was a time, when I was smaller, maybe four or five, that I walked in on my parents having a conversation. I don’t know exactly how long I was there before they realized I was listening, but when they did, they ended their discussion abruptly. They were talking about me. Something important about when I was born. I’ve tried over the years to bring it up with them again, together and separately, and neither one will discuss it. I’ve snooped through files and broken into locked desk drawers. I can’t for the life of me figure out what they were talking about. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it is better that I don’t know and I should just leave it be. But my curiosity about it has never waned. If no other need arises throughout my life, before I die, I’d like to go back to hear that conversation.” He paused for several moments. “But I probably never will.”
Both Branson and I were silent, neither one of us knowing quite what to say in the wake of Charlie’s revelation.
“It’s okay guys. You asked. It’s really no big deal,” Charlie laughed nervously, smiling at me. “It’s probably nothing at all. I was a little kid. Little kids have huge imaginations. Maybe I dreamed the whole thing. Who knows?”
We were all quiet for a few minutes, none of us able to make eye contact with one another.
“So let’s recap,” Branson said finally, breaking the tension. “I am going to do some social experiment and Charlie wants to spy on his parents. But Brooke here is gonna go all renegade and become a superhero.” He looked at Charlie, “We suck dude!”
“We totally suck,” Charlie agreed, smiling broadly.
“Do you think we should start calling her Brooke the Bold?” asked Branson.
“How about Brooke the Brave?” Charlie said, poking me playfully in the ribs. “I know! Let’s get her a superhero unitard!”
“With boots! And a lasso!” added Branson. “But no capes. They can be dangerous.”
“Absolutely no capes. But what color scheme should we go with?”
“Okay you two,” I interrupted, “that’s enough. I’m hungry. Do you two want a snack?”
“Yes!” both boys cried. “I’ll come help you,” Charlie added.
Charlie followed me down the stairs and into the kitchen. I opened the pantry and rooted through the shelves searching for an appropriate snack for all of us.
“How about popcorn?” I asked. “Or I could make pizza bites.”
“Sure, either one,” Charlie replied, sitting casually on the kitchen counter. A moment later he added, “I think you would do it.”
“Do what?”
“Use your trip to save a life. It’s so like you to think with your heart that way, without regard to the consequences.”
“Oh, I would definitely think about the consequences. And what about you?” I said, changing the topic quickly, as I pulled the pizza bites from the freezer, “You think you’re adopted, don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” he answered.
Charlie joined me in placing the pizzas on the cookie tray. His hand brushed mine and he grabbed it. Instinctively I froze. He pulled me from the snack preparation and drew me to his chest, as if he needed me close if he was going to be able to say what needed to be said.
“What did you hear them say,” I probed further.
“I heard them say something about my mother.”
“But your mother was the one talking to your father.”
“Yes.”
“Oh,” I hesitated. “I’m sorry Charlie.”
“It’s okay Brooke. I have wonderful parents. I just wonder why they’ve never been able to tell me the truth, assuming that is the truth. I’m eighteen years old. I figure if they were going to tell me, they’d have done it by now.”
“Maybe there are circumstances that are messy or something that would be painful to you. More painful than being adopted, I mean. I’m sure they are only doing what they think is best for you.”
“I know. That’s why I’ve given up asking. But maybe someday, it would be nice to know the truth.”
“I can see that.”
“You know what?” he asked, holding me at arms’ length, “I’ve never told anyone that before. About maybe being adopted.”
“Well, your secret’s safe with me. I am a superhero after all,” I said coyly, turning back to the pizza bites.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
January rolled into February and my relationship with Charlie developed into a genuine love affair. We spent most of our free time together and, although Charlie had become a fixture at my house, I had spent very little time getting to know his family. I was initially thrilled when he invited me to his Grandmother’s eightieth birthday party at the country club. However, as the date approached, I became anxious knowing that I would be on display, not only for his immediate family, but for countless extended family members as well. And with Charlie’s father being the senator, there was the chance that the paparazzi would make an appearance.
Sarah and I spent the day before scouring the mall for the perfect attire. She convinced me that a simple empire waist dress with a sweetheart neckline was a flawless look for an eightieth birthday celebration. It was a deep plum color, which she assured me would make my hazel eyes pop. I worried that I was overdressed until Charlie arrived wearing a grey tweed suit and tie.
“I don’t know how I like you better,” I commented as he helped me with my coat, “all dress
ed up like this or in that little racing suit of yours.”
“Very funny,” he replied as we walked to the car, “maybe I have the suit on underneath.”
“That sounds like an invitation to me,” I said wrapping my arms around his waist.
“You, Madame, must be on your best behavior,” Charlie scolded, kissing me on the nose.
“Aren’t I always?” I said smiling as I slid into the passenger’s seat.
We drove fifteen miles to the west side of town where the Mountain View Country Club was located. Charlie, of course, had eaten many meals there over the years, but the occasion marked a first for me. I would also be meeting his father for the first time. Charlie sensed my apprehension.
“You look amazing,” he said reassuringly as we pulled into the parking lot.
“Thank you,” I said, “but I don’t feel amazing. I think I might throw up.”
“Why are you nervous? They’re going to love you. Just like I do.”
I held my breath and allowed myself to repeat his words over again in my head.
“What did you just say?”
Charlie turned to face me straight on and took my hands in his. “I love you,” he said.
“That’s what I thought you said,” I laughed.
“And that’s funny?” he countered, openly dejected.
“No,” I admonished him, leaning across the console so that I could kiss him firmly on the lips. “I think it’s a miracle. And do you know what?” I asked seriously.
“What?”
“I’ve loved you longer than you’ve loved me.”