Unfortunately, his buddy Garfield hadn’t come. As an outsider, he wasn’t invited by the clique running the party. Max begged him to crash the party and celebrate New Year’s Eve with him—but Garfield had turned him down flat.
“No thanks,” Garfield said. “I’m just gonna watch some old Dr. Who videos and the Star Trek marathon on TV, and go to sleep with a Coke and a smile.”
So Max had gone with Brigitta, his New Year’s date, and she’d sparkled and chatted up everyone at the party, often outshining him. Watching her mingle freely, Max thought to himself: If only I could be as carefree as her! Sure, she’s shallow. But Brigitta’s also somebody I’m deeply attracted to, because she’s so fun. She really enjoys being a teenager—something I still struggle with! And she loves being with people. Max shook his head, looking at Brigitta as if Cupid had fired an arrow into his chest. I came back in time to be a different person, and now I am. He sighed. Too bad some people, like my old self, had to miss all these opportunities while they sorted their shit out.
Max vowed to himself not to make that same mistake the second time around—in Life II.
But right now? Right now Max blinked hard as he lay there staring at the ceiling.
Wow. It’s really 1988.
Actually, 1988 had come a few hours ago, with the bubbly and the couples kissing and the New Year’s countdown with Dick Clark, who always looked the same. Now that he was away from the pandemonium and the noise and the excitement, all alone, Max could feel 1988’s presence. I’ve gotten so sensitive to the passage of time!
It is 1988. Wow.
You already said that, Max scolded himself. He’d been in Life II for how long?—three and a half months?
And he wasn’t sure if it was better or worse.
It was just different.
No, he tried convincing himself, rolling over and staring at the floor. I am happier! I’m doing the things I always wanted to do. I’m already a positive change for good, right? I’m changing people’s lives for the better.
Right?
*****
I played paintball at the birthday party, Daddy! Angela signed to him, in the dream Max experienced that night. It was fun! But the paintballs really hurt.
Did you shoot many people back? Max grinned as he signed back to her.
Yes! Angela signed excitedly. We set up a trap. We hid behind some windows, and when some guys wandered down there, we all just took aim and fired like crazy! Angela mimicked holding a rifle, and pretended to shoot it—BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!—three times.
Max laughed. Did the guys get mad at you?
Naw. They just held up their hands high, Angela giggled. And we started a new game.
I love you, baby, Max sighed.
Angela sat there, kicking her feet on the ground. The dream was so real that Max felt the chill of the ice-cold bottle of Mountain Dew he held in his fist. Then his daughter looked up at him.
Dad, she signed, why did you leave me behind?
Angela stared at Max unblinkingly. Max sighed, suddenly feeling a knot in his gut.
I didn’t leave you behind, he signed back. I wanted to go back to my own life to change things I should’ve done, and to help people.
You left me behind.
Max felt the tears building inside him. No, I didn’t. I’ll see you again. I just have to live the years again to get to you. And when I do, I’ll be a doctor. Someone who will know a lot more about deafness when you’re born. I’m going to see Dr. Time very soon.
Hurry up, Daddy, Angela signed and started to walk away.
Angela! Don’t go! Angela! Max signed desperately. But Angela kept walking. Max’s dream self walked fast to catch up with her. She’s deaf, Max reminded himself. You know she can’t hear you, dumbass!
He started to run after her.
Angela stopped and turned.
We’re waiting for you, Daddy! she said with her hands.
Max reached out for her—
And suddenly woke up with a start. Sweat covered his body as he fought to steady his breathing. As his eyes adjusted, all he could see was the pitch black of his bedroom.
He looked around for Angela, hoping the whole thing—the trip to Athens, meeting Dr. Time, and going back to relive his life—was nothing but a dream. But he was in his childhood room at his parents’ house. In his own bed.
It wasn’t a dream.
“Angela,” Max whispered to himself, plopping his head back on the pillow. “I’m coming back to you, baby! You too, Brandon!”
He tried to sleep. But his eyes remained open the rest of the night.
*****
When morning arrived, Max found himself arguing with his mom.
“No, Max, you can’t go off to Greece by yourself!” she declared. “You’re only sixteen!”
Max thought hard. Before going to his mom, Max had thought about getting Nathan and Stan to help him cover up, by pretending they were all going to Nathan’s family chalet on Whistler Mountain on a three-day ski trip. But Max knew a wild-ass scheme like that would require not only Nathan and Stan going along with it, but also their parents. So Max felt he had to tackle it head on.
“Mom, c’mon, it’s my money! I earned it in the stock market crash! I’m old enough to decide what to do with my money!”
“But where are you going to stay? Who’s picking you up? Do you even know anybody in Greece? My God, Max, you don’t even speak the language!”
Max’s father stepped into the room, a beer in his fist.
“For God’s sake, Mabel, give the kid break, will ya? If he could figure out how to beat the stock market, he’s perfectly capable of finding his way around freakin’ Greece! Besides, it’s an adventure. How often in a lifetime do you get to go on an adventure?”
Max’s mother sighed. “Bill, this isn’t a game! What if he runs out of money? Or loses his passport? Or what if his money’s stolen, and he can’t get home?”
“You’re too damn protective,” Bill snapped, chugging his beer. “Hell, I remember the days when boys were allowed to quit the farm and head to the city when they were sixteen. They even got married at that age!”
“It was a different world then, Bill.”
Max felt hot inside, as if his frustrations were about to make him explode. I’m a 42-year-old trapped in a teenager’s body! But I still need permission from his mom just to buy a plane ticket!
“Look, Mom. Forget it,” Max said, knowing she would never relent on the issue.
His mom softened and hugged Max. “You know I love you, Max! It’s just that you’re growing so fast! Listen...how about if I call up Shirley in Seattle, and have her arrange for you to stay at a hotel, just for one night, close by her house to see how you like it? That way, we can be sure you’re safe!”
His dad grunted and looked off in the distance, sipping his brew, seeming to appear disinterested.
“No, that’s okay, Mom.”
As a parent in another time, he fully appreciated his mother’s concerns. And he also knew he didn’t really need her permission.
Chapter Seventeen
January 3, 1988 at 9:23 a.m.
The next day, Max stood in front of the door that said M. Tempus, at 37 Minona Street in Athens. Everything looked exactly the same as he’d remembered it.
He’d left a note on the kitchen table back home saying: I’ve gone to Europe. I’m only going for two days. I have a return ticket. I promise I’ll be back by Monday night. I sincerely promise. Love, Max.
Max stared at the name on the door, and trembled. He hesitated, feeling his stomach knot up, then knocked on the door. He waited. Dr. Time was always a bit slow when it came to answering the door.
When it finally creaked open, standing there was a thin, tall young man, who seemed to be in his twenties. Like the previous Dr. Time, he was wearing a lab coat. His hair was slicked back, his teeth were white as snow, and his glasses were black and horn-rimmed.
The man opened his mouth, and feverishly spoke in German.
Then French. Then Spanish.
Max shook his head, and held up his hand. “Whoa, wait, dude. I can only speak English.”
“Ah,” the young man replied, examining Max closely. “Are you looking for Medicus Tempus?”
Max looked warily around. “Yeah,” he answered cautiously, scrutinizing the young man. “Hey, I know who you are,” he said with a smile. “You’re Dr. Time.”
The man’s eyebrows rose. He squinted hard at Max through his eyeglasses. “Why do you say that? Is this the first time you’ve met Dr. Time?”
“Naw,” Max said, a little exasperated. “Listen, I know who you are. I know all about the Time Weaver.”
The man in the doorway shook his head, his eyes open wide. “Incredible,” he sighed. “Just incredible.” He stared at Max, then composed himself. “Please, come in.”
The layout of the house looked exactly the same as Max remembered from before. He stopped in the middle of the room and extended his hand to the young man.
“Deducing from the fact that no Dr. Time has told me about you,” he said, “I assume you’ve traveled back into Time. Am I correct?”
“Yes,” Max said. He wanted to get this thing going.
“And, I deduce, since you had the Book of Time in the future, you do not have it now. Is that correct?”
“That’s right.”
“And your name is…?”
“Max Thorning.”
“Max Thorning. Any middle name?”
“Nope.”
“Date of birth?”
“July fifth, 1971.”
“Tell me the exact date and time in the future that you left.”
“October twenty-seventh, 2013.”
“What an extraordinarily long period to time-travel! We’ve never had it that far back. Tell me, Mr. Thorning, at what moment did you arrive in Time?”
Max was getting anxious now. The man’s questions were pissing him off. “How come the Time Weaver’s never up when I come here?”
“We always work on the Time Weaver. We shut it off before we answer the door.” He held up his right hand, pointing across the room. Jesus, Max thought to himself. Can we just get on with this?
The new Dr. Time saw his frustration. “Fine, let’s start the Time Weaver. I need to ask you some questions.”
“Great. More questions,” Max said with a sigh.
Dr. Time walked to the wall to pick up a solid blue cube. He placed it on the same spot on the floor as Max remembered. “Dr. Time,” he stated clearly and crisply, “one thousand, nine hundred and eighty-eight, zero one, zero three, nine, thirty-seven, and eight.”
The cube emitted a bluish-green pulse of light and then relentlessly expanded to within a few feet of the two men.
“All right, Max,” Dr. Time said. “I will enter, for the record, the Time in the future that you left.”
Max furrowed his brow. “Whoa, hold on. The first Dr. Time said you can’t program it into the future.”
“That’s correct. But I can enter the data you’re giving me, and plot the correlation with Time as it marches on.”
Max’s brain hurt. He felt cold, frightened worry. He ached to ask about his new future, and if his kids Angela and Brandon were intact. But he waited.
“First of all,” asked Dr. Time, “have you done any other time-travel?”
“You said I couldn’t travel to the future.”
“No, but you could travel back in the past again. I take it you haven’t done so?”
“Uh. Nope.”
“Can you describe the Dr. Time you met in the future?”
Max rolled his eyes, wondering why this was important now.
Dr. Time nodded at him. “Never mind. I have your arrival in Time. Let’s find it on the Time Weaver with the location, Confederation High School, 739 McMillan Drive, Vancouver.”
The Time Weaver zoomed in on the exact spot. Max felt an overpowering sense of déjà vu. He once again guided Dr. Time to the exact spot on the lacrosse field, as it was on September 16, 1987. Which version of that moment would play out? The part where he led his team to a 8-7 victory? Or the part where he fell on his ass, and blew the game?
Suddenly Max saw the moment in Time where he would leap up to retrieve the ball.
“There!” he yelled. “Stop!!”
Dr. Time froze the Time Weaver. “15:18:24, affirmed.”
Then he let the moment move forward. Max saw his slightly younger self stumble, and slam to the turf, as his teammates groaned. It’s true! I’ve changed my own history! He heard boos that he wasn’t fully aware of when he’d been there himself. Only his hair looked different; longer, and soaked with sweat. Otherwise, he could’ve walked over to the middle of the hologram and taken his own 16-year-old place.
“Look, before we do anything else,” Max interrupted, “I need some questions answered.”
“Of course, Max.”
“In the present—no, my future—actually, I mean the present that I left—I had a daughter, named Angela Emilia Thorning. And a son, named Brandon Thomas Thorning. I need you to assure me that... ” Suddenly his breath caught in his throat. “Uh, I need you to tell me that they will be born, and that I still have something to look forward to.”
He paused, near tears, and tacked on a heartfelt: “Please.”
Dr. Time grunted in a disconcerting way.
“Max,” he said, “Look, I’m sorry, but your previous Dr. Time should’ve explained that to you.”
“Explained?” Max blurted out. “Explained what?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“She should’ve warned you that by going back in Time, you were in essence starting your life over again.”
“Yeah…?” Max said slowly.
“And that there was no guarantee that anything that ever happened to you in your previous life would happen again.”
“Wh-wh-what? Holy shit, Doc! She didn’t tell me anything like that!”
“Max, you can never go back to that exact timeline,” Dr. Time said. “The people, the situations… that only exists in one manifestation of your life. You alter one thing—one moment, one thought, one action, anything—and it changes everything. Your Dr. Time was very irresponsible not to explain this to you.”
“Well, she didn’t,” Max snapped, struggling to breathe. “She just said I could have the career and the life I always wanted. She never said I’d never see my own chil—”
Max stopped. Fear gripped his heart like a vice. How could this be? Angela? Brandon? What had he done?
Dr. Time placed his hand on Max’s shoulder. “Max, each human coupling produces different results in the offspring. There is no possible way to duplicate those eggs and sperms from you and your partner that created your particular children without knowing the precise minute, second, millisecond of the point of conception that—”
Max stood, stunned. His daughter and son’s faces exploded into a million specks of memories never to be made. Tears burned the corners of his eyes and he couldn’t stop them from falling.
He grabbed Dr. Time, straining to get his wits about him, to plead his case—to plead Angela and Brandon’s case—anything.
“Doc! Please! You mean I can’t—”
“That life is completely gone, Max,” Dr. Time said.
Max rubbed the tears away with the back of his hand. “Look, uh, Dr. Time, there must be a way! I never would have done this if I’d known. I wanted to become a doctor and heal people and make things right but I never—“
Max gripped Dr. Time’s collar in a stranglehold, let loose a bloodcurdling scream, and then collapsed again.
“Max,” Dr. Time said, standing tall over the distraught teenager curled up on the hard floor, “Time is our Master, as it is yours. We can move around in Time, but not overcome it.”
Max’s stomach roiled in nausea over the horrible realization. Why hadn’t the first Dr. Time told him the truth? Hearing the reality of his situation was too much… he was stunned silent. His thoughts dried up ins
tantly and disappeared.
Wow, he thought, have I screwed up! Max felt sick. In his mind, he had made the worst trade possible. He’d caught a glimpse of what his life could be, and seen a lifetime dream fulfilled. But the first Dr. Time had manipulated him and screwed him over, for the sake of getting to “observe” him. In the meantime, Max had sacrificed everything he’d loved most in the world—the same thing that had happened to him in Life I.
And as he left Dr. Time’s warehouse, and staggered through the Athens streets, he realized the weight of that sacrifice was impossible to bear.
Chapter Eighteen
January 5, 1988 at 8:53 a.m.
After school, Max pedaled madly on his bicycle as he glanced down at his watch. He had to swing about ten blocks out of the way to that used bookstore where he’d first bought Account of Time Travel on Earth Using Wave Theory. It could be the link between Life I and Life II. Dr. Time had said he couldn’t help him get back to his old future.
But Max had his own suspicions.
If I could search for more clues in that book, maybe I could go back to Life I whenever I wanted. Or, at least that was what Max hoped. Every fiber of his being refused to believe that Angela and Brandon were gone. How could his curiosity over a simple book and the desire to escape from his original humdrum timeline have cast the die on his children’s entire existence? They had to still exist out there somewhere in time.
And if they did, he would get to them.
Max biked and pedaled furiously to the intersection of Hanover Street and Smith Avenue, eyes peeled for that used bookstore. In Life I, it had been next-door to a gun shop and a pawn shop. It would be incredible if he could find the Book of Time there!
Max rounded the corner. He pedaled harder. And suddenly came to a screeching halt.
To his disappointment, in the place of the future Raymond’s Books and Comics was a music store.
Nooooooooo! Max’s mind reeled.
He hustled into the retail space and raced up to the lone clerk. Clearing his throat he asked, “Hi, uh, um…have you ever heard of Raymond’s Used Bookstore?”
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