He went back to cleaning his room with the strong urge to discard the items found under his bed. He emptied the garbage can into the bin in the garage and returned upstairs to sort out the objects. After several minutes, Max heard arguing downstairs.
Mom must’ve just arrived home.
Max’s heart sank. This was the situation he remembered all too well. His parents would argue, keeping their voices low during their disagreements. Inevitably things would get out of control. He’d hear yelling. Accusations. Suddenly, there’d be a moment of silence as both parents headed in opposite directions, angry. His father’s retreat was in the den; his mother’s was the family room.
Max went and put his ear to the bedroom door. Downstairs he heard:
“Mabel, you’re not listening…”
“I told you, Bill, I don’t want anything to do with her! Why did you invite her and Chuck over? We’re having company. Now you’re ruining the plans!”
“I’m ruining the plans?!”
“You need to think of your family first,” his mother snapped. “Is that too much to ask?”
Max felt the anger in his parents’ voices. The rhythm was familiar and unwelcome. This time around, he had to do something.
He flew down the stairs.
He found his parents in the living room. His dad had his fist raised, a vein throbbing in his temple.
Max leaped in front of his parents, inserting himself between them.
“Max!” his mother exclaimed. “You’re home early!”
He gazed at Mabel, his mother. Gone was the gray hair, and the wrinkles in her forehead from years later. She was young and vibrant, and wore a conservative navy blue dress with a white neckline. Max recalled how she’d stocked up on professional attire when she worked—and continued to wear them when she retired. She always emphasized how appearance was important.
“Mom!” Max exclaimed. He grabbed her shoulders, staring her up and down. “You look really good!” he said to her with a smile.
Mabel blushed. “Why, thank you for noticing, Max.”
“Doesn’t she look great, Dad?” Max pressed.
His dad said nothing.
Max was so glad to see his parents together. Not as strangers passing by each other at obligatory family events like weddings or graduations. He wanted to reach out and hug them both.
“It’s good to see you…” He was going to say “together,” but at the last minute, substituted it with “…um, you know, both home.”
“You won’t believe it, Mabel,” Max’s father said. “Go check out what Max did to his room!”
“Oh my gosh, what happened to it?” Max’s mom bugged her eyes wide, letting them drift up the stairs in fright.
“Go and see, Mabel!” his father hollered. “For cryin’ out loud, do something for me for once!”
“You can’t talk to me like that!” his mom shrieked.
“Oh no??” retorted his father.
“Enough!” Max cried out in utter frustration.
His parents, startled, turned toward him.
Max felt their bewildered eyes on him. With an impassioned plea, he stepped between them, putting an arm around both of their shoulders.
“Don’t you see what you’re doing? You guys’ll divorce two years from now.”
His mother’s hands flew to her mouth in horror. “Max! How could you say such hurtful things?”
His father waved his hand. “We’re not getting divorced. Hell, we’ve never even talked about it, Max.”
“Yes, you are!” Max said hotly, his emotions still raw from his entry into Life II, “You guys are going to get a divorce and then sell the house. Once Jenny and I are gone, you’ll realize you have no reason to stay together under the same roof …” He trailed off, holding back before he revealed everything he knew to be true about their future.
Bill stood up. “Max,” he said, “I’m sorry if our bickering has upset you.” He hugged Max warmly, lingering with his distraught son. Not letting go just yet.
Mabel said, “Max, you know how much we both love you.”
She placed her hand gently on her son’s shoulder, and Bill released his grip, and offered a kind smile to Mabel. “I’ll help in the kitchen.”
That was close, Max said to himself. His head ached, and he felt suddenly tired. Maybe he’d need more sleep tonight than normal, he thought. Whatever normal was, in Life II.
Later Max went out in the backyard to lie in the hammock and to play with Cherokee. He truly felt like a sixteen-year-old again.
Bill was setting the table on the deck outside, something Max rarely saw his father do. He smiled over at Max. “Oh, Jenny’s on her way. And Len’s joining us for supper.”
A rage rose in Max hearing Len’s name. He felt his fists clench, sparked by a lifetime of spite built up in Life I. Without warning, he growled out loud:
“Her husband’s coming here?”
Max’s dad cocked an eyebrow.
“I mean…”
Max’s father squinted at him, then back to setting the table. “Boyfriend, you mean. Thank God. Honestly, I hope to hell they don’t get married. They’re still way too young. I’m sure Jenny’ll find someone else.”
No, she won’t, Max thought.
Bill sighed. He turned to his son. “The only thing we can do is wait for her to…” he straightened himself out and then said, “…see things better.”
“But she won’t, Dad!” Max said fiercely. A light came on in his head. Too late, dummy. You’ve blown it now. In Life I, he’d cursed Len numerous times, from the comfortable environment of his own home and within the sanctuary of his own family—Abby and their children. Now, his sanctuary was shrinking rapidly.
“Max,” his father said to him firmly, “you really need to stay out of it.” His eyebrows curved. “I thought you liked Len. Last week, you were saying how cool he was, and you wanted to ask him for tips on how to ride his motorcycle. I admit, he’s not someone I would choose for Jenny, but they’re young. This won’t last.”
Max totally forgot that he’d idolized Len, a bad-ass guy who had his own motorbike and wore a black leather jacket. But that was before Len ran off with my sister. Max’s adulation back in Life I was short-lived, and recalling it now made his face grow red with the memory.
“How ya doing, dude?” a deep male voice said from behind Max. He whirled. There stood Len Rostuk, tall, slim, and towering. Len was wearing a battered jean jacket, and sported a three-day beard on his chin.
Max’s sister, Jenny, walked in behind Len. She was wearing a T-shirt with “Official Valley Girl” in faded letters. She sported a pair of designer jeans and a black studded belt like her idol Madonna.
“Give me a high five,” Len said to Max. He lifted his hand up and stretched it out for Max to respond.
But Max ignored the gesture and instead replied with a disapproving glance, which Len seemed to miss, but his sister didn’t.
Her smile disappeared quickly. “What’s wrong with you, Max? Did something happen to you today?” She wrapped one arm around his shoulder and gave him a squeeze.
They were as close as siblings could be in Life I, and he remembered the times where they could talk about just anything. She used to offer to do Max’s essays in history and geography—an offer he usually took her up on—when he wanted to hang out with the guys.
The shock of seeing his sister carefree again galvanized Max. She was so beautiful right now—long before she gained twenty pounds and started dyeing her hair. Today, her hair was its natural color, a mousy brown, changing hues in the sunlight. It was brushed meticulously straight on her sides, extending past her shoulders, before curling off upwards at the tips. Jenny deserved someone better than a guy like Len, someone who would give her an unfulfilled future.
“It’s…nothing. Today has just been weird,” Max began.
“I’ll say,” said Bill. “He cleaned up his room, without any threats from his mother.”
“Excuse me, but I d
on’t threaten.” Mabel appeared in front of the screen door, holding two steaming plates, waiting for someone to open the glass sliding door to let her out on the deck. “Dinner’s ready.”
As he ate supper, Max was largely speechless, absorbing the ramifications of the sudden change of the streams of time, stealing glances at his family—and Len—as if he were seeing them all over again.
While his parents were cleaning up the supper, Max whispered to his sister, “What time does school start tomorrow?”
“8:45,” Jenny replied. “Why?”
“Uh, you know. Just wanted to make sure they didn’t change the schedule,” Max lied. Jenny gave him a weird look. “Hey, it’s the new school year,” he said, shrugging.
Jenny laughed at him and knocked him on the shoulder. “You’re such a dork!”
Max sighed. Yes, he thought, I am. I really am.
*****
As Max lay in bed that night, he couldn’t sleep. His mind kept replaying what had happened. This morning, he was a 42-year-old man thinking of his nagging wife and his two problem kids. Now he was a sixteen-year-old who didn’t even have a car.
He’d taken a shower and afterwards, stood in front of the mirror to inspect himself. Dammit, dude, you look good. Not an ounce of fat. Long wavy hair. Beaming smile. A nice six-pack. He’d flexed his arms, and was pleasantly surprised. He could see why he had to be at the peak of his attractiveness at age sixteen to eighteen—he’d have to date more girls than he did in Life I.
I can’t believe how my feelings overpowered me when I’d met people from my past. It must be the weirdness of reappearing in Time. Plus I’ve got all those raging hormones again!
He thought of the lacrosse tournament today.
History was already changing.
A chill skittered up his back. What if he changed the future, and screwed everything up with the wrong consequences? He recalled the butterfly effect, which purported that a small change in the present could lead to great ramifications in the future.
Could it happen to him?
He thought of Abby. Where was she now? And what about Brandon and Angela? He couldn’t wait for the day when he could hold his children again. Only this time, he’d be the man he always could have been.
Maybe Dr. Time could show him some way. Dr. Time had instructed him to visit her predecessor Dr. Time. But did he have the cash to pay for a flight to Athens, Greece? He didn’t even have enough in his pockets to buy a candy bar. He remembered having a bank account in high school, but not much was in it.
Maybe I can log in, right now, on my smartphone, and check the prices to Athens and…
Oh crap.
Max sighed. He’d forgotten again. Have to be careful about that, he reminded himself. People would toss him in the loony bin, if he started talking about the Internet in 1987.
Oh well. He sighed, plopping back on his bed. He’d find out tomorrow.
Chapter Ten
September 17, 1987 at 8:00 a.m.
“Max, wake up!”
His mom ripped the covers off Max. He woke with a start, expecting to see the familiar light green hues of his Life I bedroom, and Abby standing there with a frown on her face.
Instead, he was startled by the sight of his mother. A shock of reality hit him. This was really 1987, and not some dream of traveling back into his past.
“Uh, hey, Mom!” Max stammered, “I’m getting up! Thanks!”
“Your breakfast’s on the table,” she said as she left.
Max’s dad had already left for work. Jenny’d finished breakfast, and Max could hear the shower running, meaning she was in one of her usual long-ass sessions of grooming herself. Max’s breakfast stood out on the table, all alone: a bowl of freshly washed and cut strawberries, a bowl of hot oatmeal, a container of brown sugar, a spoon, and a plain piece of white toast, with butter.
Max looked at the clock and thoughts raced through his brain.
How would he actually get to school?
What room was he supposed to report to?
Where were his books? Crap, I don’t even remember what subjects I’m taking!
Dude, how are you going to get through your “first” day of high school?
Leaving behind a half-finished breakfast, Max raced upstairs to his room. His mother had already left in her car. He checked his bookshelves in his bedroom, and found just one textbook—Introduction to Calculus—among his large volume of sci-fi books.
Racing into the hall, he passed his sister, wrapped in a giant towel, with her hair wet and hanging down. “Jenny,” he said, “Where are my high school books?”
“How should I know?” she snapped back.
Frantically Max dashed back to his room. He dug through his closet and found a gray and black backpack hanging on the wall. He grabbed it and stuffed the calculus book into it.
He heard beeping of a car horn from outside. HONK! HONK! HONK!
He ignored it. The beeping resumed. HONK! HONK! HONK!
“Max!” he heard his sister holler, “for Chrissakes! Would you please let Garfield know you’re here, before he pisses off the whole damn neighborhood?”
Garfield?
That’s right! Max remembered. Garfield had an old, cherry red ’64 Chevy he’d inherited from his aunt. Awesome! I can get a ride!
Max hurled open the front door. From the car, Garfield waved and called out, “Hey, Max!”
Just like he did yesterday with his family, Max took a second look at his friend. Impish, with a boyish grin, Garfield gazed at him from behind the steering wheel of his beloved car. He still had that pointy elf-like chin, a forehead that was too large, and eyes that could be described as “squirrelly.” Gone was his bald patch, and once more an unruly tuft of hair brushed by his eyes.
Yep, that’s Garfield, Max sighed in sweet delight.
“C’mon, Max! While we’re young!” Garfield yelled out. “What are ya waiting for?”
Max raced out, and threw his stuff into the backseat. “Nice backpack you have here,” Garfield commented dryly.
He put the car into drive and stomped the gas. The car zoomed off, snapping Max’s head back as the Chevy chugged into second gear.
“You know, I’m still mad at you,” Garfield drawled. “I mean, I know you don’t like it, but you still have to do it.”
Max was bewildered. “What are you talking about?”
Garfield slapped the steering wheel. “You know what I’m talking about, Max! Dude, you’re just trying to weasel out of it.”
“Garfield, what…”
“Imagine me telling old Mr. Davis that my best pal doesn’t even want to do this stupid assignment anymore. That’ll tick his ass off.”
Max focused his memory, squinting. Mr. Davis… Hmmm. Must be a teacher at Confederation. What subject did he teach? Geography maybe? What was Max supposed to do? His mind came up blank.
“Garfield, man, I’m sorry!” Max said.
Garfield grunted.
“You stood me and Leo both up,” he snapped. “So I told Leo, let’s phone Max. And you know what Leo said? He said, shit, maybe Max’s not feeling well, let’s do it for him.”
Max said, “Sorry, Garfield. When did you want to get together again to finish that geography assignment?”
Garfield stared at him. “Geography? Dude, we’re not even taking that this term! It was for consumer studies, about how the automated banking machine has revolutionized customer relations.”
He said nothing further. They rode in silence, reaching the Confederation High parking lot. Max watched Garfield lock his car, and then strolled to school with his old buddy.
“Hey, uh, I gotta hit the student office,” Max said as they stepped out of the car. He and Garfield high-fived, and headed off in different directions.
Max hustled to the front counter in the Student Affairs office. Immediately he skidded to a stop.
“Oh, hell no!” he grumbled. His shoulders slumped. “Not her!”
He recognized the
middle-aged woman with carefully coiffured hair working there. In Life I, they’d had a mutual dislike of each other. Max had been sent to the office a few times for talking smack to his teachers.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, Max thought, as he took a deep breath and stepped up.
The woman looked at Max and rolled her eyes.
Her nameplate reminded him. Mrs. Shuster.
“Mr. Thorning,” she cooed, “what can I do for you?”
“Ummm,” Max stammered. “It’s the second week of school.”
“Umm-hmm.”
“And, uh, I’ve forgotten where my locker is.”
Mrs. Shuster cocked her eyebrow.
“Ah-ha,” she muttered, “I’m not surprised.” She sighed heavily. “Let me look up it up.” She walked to a cabinet and pulled out a file. “Thorning, Max,” she read. She squinted at it and then said to Max, “562.”
“Could I, uh, could I have the combination please?”
“The combination?”
“Uh. Yeah.”
She gave Max a look of disgust. “I don’t recall you sharing that information with moi.”
Max’s heart sank. “Then you mean it’s not in there?”
She clicked her tongue. “Mr. Thorning, all students are responsible for buying their own locks.”
“I know, but…” Max stopped, and thought for a moment. “Never mind. I’m going to check it. Thanks!”
He raced out of the office, and searched all over the school for the locker. Where the hell is it?? Finally he found it, in a corner on the main floor. He approached locker 562 and grabbed the lock and his spirits sank.
It was an ordinary combination lock. With a dial on it.
Max returned to the office.
“I’m afraid I’ve forgotten my combination.”
Mrs. Shuster sighed, and clicked her fingernails on the counter. “You should’ve kept a copy of it at home.”
“Listen. I know,” Max panicked. “But I have classes all day and… I just really need my stuff. Can you get someone to come in and cut the lock? Please?”
The secretary sighed heavily. “Due to liability issues, you have to be present when the lockmaster comes in.”
[2013] Life II Page 7