The Clay Lion

by Jahn, Amalie

  The mere mention of his name elicited yet another round of hysterics, and with that, Charlie slowly began putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

  “It’s Branson, isn’t it?” he asked. When I did not respond, he continued to travel along his own line of thinking. “This all started last weekend. This week he has a cough. You think he’s sick?”

  I refused to look at his face for fear that I would surely give myself away.

  “Brooke? He’s fine. He’s going to be fine,” he consoled me, pulling me into his chest and wrapping me in his arms. After a moment, I wriggled free from his embrace and walked across the room.

  “I need to be with him alone for a while. I need to sort some things out. Please know that you are the only miracle I’ve ever had in my life and that, if for some reason, things don’t work out with us, it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t because you weren’t amazing. Because you are. Okay?” Charlie did not respond. “Okay?” I repeated.

  “Are you breaking up with me?”

  It is possible to shatter a heart twice in one lifetime. I know because just when I thought there was not a shard of my heart left that was large enough to break, I felt it explode inside my chest into a thousand tiny pieces. The pain was excruciating. I forced myself to look at Charlie and found that he had tears streaming down his face.

  “I love you,” I said, “I’m so very sorry. Please, I just need some time.”

  Charlie took my face in his hands as he had on our very first night together and he pressed his lips tenderly against mine.

  “I’ll wait for you,” he said and with that, he walked out of my room and out of my life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  In the subsequent weeks, Branson’s illness progressed as it had in both previous timelines. He visited doctor after doctor and was subjected to test after test. For my part, I attempted to appreciate having his spirit around for what I knew would be the final months. I kept close to him always, apparently to the point of suffocation. Eventually, he asked for space, saying he wanted to be alone - a devastating blow as now I found myself being forsaken.

  Finally, mercifully, Branson received his final diagnosis. Only I remained stoic. As the report findings were disclosed, I remained dry eyed. Numbness had taken over.

  I gave up completing schoolwork, as I had no regard for my future endeavors. My grades dropped and I skipped more classes than I attended. Lost in a sea of my own pain, I was unable to provide any solace to my parents or my brother. I moved through the days as a ghost, transparent and unnoticed.

  My transfer day arrived and as I prepared to return to the present timeline, I found myself at Branson’s bedside for the first time in days. He slept frequently but opened his eyes as his bedroom door opened. Without a word and with great effort, he slid his frail body to the side so that I would have a place to sit beside him. I took his hand and turned it so that his palm was facing up. From my pocket, I produced the clay lion.

  “Where’d you find this?” he asked, wheezing after each syllable.

  “I’ve had it for a while,” I responded.

  “I remember when. You made this for me,” he said, stopping to catch his breath mid-sentence.

  “Me too,” I said. Neither of us spoke for a while. Finally I continued, “It’s time to be brave now.”

  “Okay,” he whispered.

  “I love you. I’m sorry. For everything.”

  “I love you too, Sis,” he replied.

  I left the lion in his hand and placed a kiss on his cheek as I rose from the bed. I gazed at my baby brother for what I imagined would be the last time.

  Sequestered in my room, I was anxious for the transfer to take me from my past. But as the bright light signaled that the time was upon me, I painfully acknowledged that I was leaving the frying pan to enter the fryer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  When the average person uses his or her trip, it is usually quite a simple process. The person chooses the date to return to within his or her own timeline, the duration of the stay, and the date to be extracted back to the present. In the present, virtually no time is lost as the send-off and extraction occur within hours of each other. Therefore, you can travel without missing any of your own life. After the trip is complete, the traveler resumes his or her life along the present timeline, which, if all rules have been followed, is exactly the same as it was before.

  It was no surprise that a considerable amount of the required pre-trip instruction emphasized why a traveler should never make changes to his or her timeline. One of the many problems that arose from making significant changes was that the life experiences between the extraction date in the past and the return date in the present became unknown. For example, when the rules were followed and no changes were made during the trip, the life the traveler returned to would be virtually unchanged. Therefore, it would not matter whether a span of days, months, or even years had passed between the date of the extraction and the present day because all of the traveler’s original memories for that period of time would be near replicas of what actually occurred. Life for the traveler would resume seamlessly.

  The length of time between the date of my extraction at the end of my second trip and the date to which I returned in the present was thirteen months. Because the changes that I made to my timeline were drastic by anyone’s standards, my memories of those thirteen months no longer applied to the timeline into which I was reintroduced. My mental state was completely different than it was after my first trip. As was the mental state of those around me. Additionally, there was an extra person’s life to consider… Charlie’s.

  Upon my return to the present, I found my parents in a far worse condition than I had left them on either occasion. In fact, I despaired to find that my father was no longer living in the house with us as he separated from my mother five months prior to my return. Apparently, the stress of Branson’s death partnered with my difficult behavior had been sufficient to drive a wedge deep enough between them to dissolve their twenty-three year marriage.

  For my part, I discovered that, like the first time Branson died, I had severed ties with everyone in my life. Along with the severe depression that I suffered from after Branson died in the original timeline, apparently anger played a more dominant role for me in the aftermath of the newly augmented reality. More than despondency, I treated everyone in my life with hostility, and so my friends had long since given up on attempting to pull me from my depression. Most had been away at college for the year since Branson’s passing and none had initiated any contact with me during that time. Not a single one. Not even Charlie.

  I confided in my mother about my trips. I reasoned that, perhaps if she knew that I had tried to save Branson it might improve her spirits. However, instead of making things better, telling her only served to depress her even more. She became angry with me for meddling with our lives and told me repeatedly that she had known in her heart that something was wrong and clearly, it was my fault.

  When I inquired about Charlie, she revealed to me that he had visited Branson in the hospital and attended Branson’s funeral. He also tried on several occasions throughout the summer to rekindle his friendship with me. She confirmed that he was met with resentment and antagonism, so despite his best efforts, we remained estranged.

  Devastated by the loss of not only my brother, but also my parents, I quickly decided there was only one remedy to the solution. I would have to travel one last time to right the wrongs I had caused. I confronted my mother about it one morning, having found her alone in her bathroom crying in the corner of the floor. She had been going into work sporadically and I doubted she would be kept on staff for much longer. I sat beside her, my back leaning against the wall, and handed her a roll of toilet paper with which to blow her nose.

  “I have to try again,” I told her.

  “No,” she replied without hesitation, knowing exactly what I meant.

  “Mom, you have to let me fix this,” I pleaded.
/>   “Brooke!” she said raising her voice, “You have done enough already!”

  “You said you believed in me once Mom. Please, believe in me again! I can do this. I will figure it out. I will make it all right. I can use Dad’s trip.”

  There was dead silence. My mother attempted to wipe the makeup from her red and puffy eyes, but only succeeded in smearing it across her face into a haggard expression.

  “I said no,” she repeated.

  “Then I’ll ask him myself!” I yelled at her, as I rose to my feet, leaving her in tears once again.

  After storming out of the house, I drove the six miles across town to where my father was staying at what was once a boarding house for unwed mothers. The building was now divided into four distinct apartments. My father resided in the smallest. In addition to a fresh coat of paint and new shingles, the entire house was in need of an overhaul. It reminded me of my life.

  In the ten months since Branson’s death, my father appeared to have aged ten years. His skin hung limply on his face and his eyes where sunken within their sockets. He greeted me with a hug that did little to encourage me. After briefly discussing my previous trips and explaining my plan to travel one more time, my father reacted in the same manner as my mother, immediately discouraging me from giving it any more thought. He flat out refused to even consider letting me use his trip. It appeared that I was out of options.

  Outside of my father’s apartment, I sat in the car and concentrated on my breathing. Unwilling to accept my current life as my fate, I considered the only other person I knew that might have allowed me to use their trip. Assuming he would have been home from college on summer break, I pulled the car away from the boarding house and headed west through town towards Charlie’s house.

  As I drove the familiar roads on the way to the Johnson estate, I recalled the last thing Charlie had said to me. He told me he would wait. I only hoped he would still be waiting for me now. I pulled into the circular drive and parked in front of the door. Suddenly, the courage drained from my soul and I found myself unable to get out of the car. I restarted the engine and engaged the transmission into first gear when the front door of the house opened and Mrs. Johnson appeared. Recognition crossed her face, and she smiled at me with a mixture of sadness and concern. Waving me into the house, she disappeared inside, leaving the front door wide open. I turned off the engine once again and made my way into the house. I found myself standing awkwardly in the foyer by myself. After several moments that stretched on for an eternity, Charlie appeared at the top of the staircase.

  My heart stopped beating and it was all I could do keep myself standing upright. In the fifteen months since I had seen him last, Charlie Johnson had become a man. He was a few inches taller but more than that, he was bulkier. His chest had filled out and his shoulders were broad. His hair was longer and his face was covered in a layer of stubble. He was dressed sharply, sporting a Harvard University t-shirt, and he exhorted an aura of power and confidence. I was shocked that so much of his appearance had changed. I searched desperately for something familiar. I met his gaze and looked into his eyes. They were the same. And they bored into me with such anguish that I felt instantly that it was a mistake to have come.

  “What do you want Brooke?” he asked, not angrily but with a tone of annoyance.

  “I need your help,” I whispered.

  “I can’t help you,” he remarked.

  “You don’t even know what I need,” I said. “Please, hear me out.”

  He marched down the stairs and stepped past me into the parlor. He took a seat in one of the arm chairs and I followed suit. Neither one of us spoke for quite some time.

  “You broke my heart,” Charlie began.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I broke mine too.”

  “You knew all along, didn’t you? About Branson?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you dragged me into it knowing you were emotionally unable to handle the situation?”

  “I thought it was going to work out.”

  “I spent a long time being angry with you after I figured out about the time travel. Then I felt sorry for you. It’s taken me months to get to the point where I finally feel nothing. And now you show up here after over a year and you want me to do what? Pretend it all never happened?”

  “No.”

  “There’s someone else Brooke. I met her at school. I’m happy. I don’t want this.”

  “I need your trip,” I said quietly.

  “My what?” he responded, raising his voice. “My trip! You have the nerve to come here, to my house, to ask to use my trip? To what end Brooke? You have to stop this! You are never going to get him back!”

  “I want to try one more time. I can’t leave it this way. I’ve ruined more than just my life. I’ve destroyed my parents. I’ve hurt you. I’ve failed Branson. Please Charlie…”

  “No Brooke. No more,” he paused considering me across the room. “I loved you.”

  “I loved you,” I replied. “Please.”

  “No.”

  Charlie sat silently for several minutes and I could see he was considering his words carefully. Finally he continued, his voiced laced with compassion, “I know you think you are doing the right thing, but you aren’t supposed to do this. We aren’t supposed to be the authors of our own lives. We are not in charge. Life is just life. You don’t get to fix it. But I know you Brooke. I know you won’t give up. So I will ask you this – if you manage to find a way to go back again, don’t find me. Don’t meet me. Pretend you don’t know who I am. I can’t do this again. You almost destroyed me, and my life will never be the same again because of you. If I had a chance to undo what you did…” he trailed off. “Promise me you will leave me out of it.”

  “I promise,” I said, unable to look him directly. “I’ll see myself out.”

  I rose from the chair and made a beeline for the door. As I was turning the knob, I felt Charlie’s presence behind me. I briefly considered continuing through the door without turning around, but I did not have the courage. Slowly, I turned to face him. He was only inches away. He reached out to touch my hair, placing a lock behind my ear with great tenderness.

  “Goodbye Brooke,” he said.

  “Goodbye,” I said, reaching up to touch his hand that was lingering on my hair. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to imagine what might have been. And then I walked away, out of Charlie’s life forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Convinced that there had to be a way to make another trip, I pulled myself together and headed to the public library. On the way, I passed by Cooper’s Hardware Store and found that it was partially demolished. The roof was caved in on one side and there was a sign in the front window that read “condemned.” I immediately thought of the box of letters tucked away in the eves. I had taken them during my first trip but had never returned to the attic during my second voyage, assuring they would have still been in the attic when the roof collapsed. Given the scope of the damage, I was sure they had been destroyed. I parked in front of the building and got out to peer through the window, hoping to gain some insight into what had occurred. Mrs. Frederickson from the florist next door popped her head out of her shop.

  “Hi Brooke,” she said.

  “Hi Mrs. Frederickson. Where are the Coopers?”

  “Honey, you know about the cave in last winter,” she admonished me.

  “Oh. Oh yeah,” I stammered.

  I quickly returned to the car without saying goodbye and continued toward the library. Once there, I cornered the first librarian I encountered.

  “Do you have newspapers?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she replied. “Over there with the periodicals.”

  “Oh. No. I meant from a while ago,” I explained.

  “How long ago are we talking?”

  “Less than a year,” I replied.

  “We have them on digital file in the computer lab. Is that all?”

  “Thank you. No. I also need ev
erything the library has on file about time travel. Specifically non-governmental publications. Probably from the invention period.”

  The librarian balked at my unusual request. “Those documents are from decades ago. They would be filed in the basement. It could take hours to dig through all that we have down there.”

  “It’s okay,” I responded. “I can wait.”

  She sighed heavily and headed in the direction of the basement stairway. I made my way into the computer lab and within a few minutes found a news story regarding the cave in at the Cooper’s. Apparently, during a particularly large snow storm at the end of February, the entire left side of the roof caved in from the weight of the snow. The roof debris fell through the attic floor and landed on Mr. and Mrs. Cooper on the second floor as they slept. Mr. Cooper escaped with only minor injuries. Mrs. Cooper suffered extensive internal injuries, which, after days of hospitalization, took her life. In addition to the snow, rotten roofing material was listed as the cause of the cave in.

  The tiny cubby in which I was seated closed in around me and the room spun. The enormity of what I had just read sunk in fully. Because of the events that transpired during my second trip, I knew that the ball on the roof played no part in Branson’s death. However, it had effectively saved Mrs. Cooper’s life. The list of lives I had destroyed was quickly mounting. After several minutes of forced meditation and labored breathing, I calmed myself to the point where I was able to stand. My resolve to return to the past reached a pinnacle.

  Leaving the computer lab with the article still on the screen, I explored the library in search of the employee assisting me with the time travel research. I found her in the basement, among stacks of discarded books. She pointed me in the direction of the volumes she had selected. The pile was extensive and I got right to work. After four hours of solid research, I discovered a handful of privately funded corporations who continued to hold patents for time travel technology. I wondered if the government had the control over traveling that everyone assumed they had.