If You Were Here

by Stephanie Taylor

  “Mom?” Sara poked her head into the doorway. Jenny turned her head, her hand still on Daniel’s leg. “You almost ready?”

  “Two more minutes,” Jenny said, giving her daughter a sad smile. “Just let me say goodbye.”

  Sara nodded and left her.

  “I wish we could have had more time together,” Jenny said, feeling the tears on her cheeks as she pleaded with Daniel’s unresponsive figure. She put one hand to her face. “I wish for a lot of things…”

  Jenny’s eyes went to a potted plant on Daniel’s windowsill; it was a poinsettia with a Christmas card stuck in it. She stared at the jolly face of Santa Claus on the card as she waited for the words to come.

  “I wish prom night had ended differently.” She looked back at him. His cracked lips were wrapped around a respirator and it nearly broke her heart. “I knew then that I was pregnant, you know.” Jenny drew in a breath, remembering. “And I wished for so long that you’d come back.” She wiped at her tears again. “But you didn’t,” she said, sitting up straighter. She’d had to be strong all these years, raising Sara on her own and making something of her life without him. “I just wish I could have stopped you from leaving the dance with Roger that night. I didn’t know then that I wouldn’t see you again for thirty years.”

  “Excuse me, visiting time is over,” a nurse said, butting the door open with her shoulder as she walked into the room. “You’ll have to say goodbye.”

  Jenny stood up and smoothed the spot on the bed where her weight had left a mark. She looked at Daniel for a minute, wishing she could lean over and kiss him on the cheek. The nurse cleared her throat and the moment passed.

  “Goodbye, Daniel,” Jenny said, reaching for her coat and bag. She paused at the foot of his bed, coat draped over one arm. “Remember in the bookstore when you asked me whether any place on Earth would feel like home, even if it was at a different time? The answer is yes—it would. Right here, right now feels like home with you.”

  Jenny walked out into the hallway and waited for Sara to stand. They looked at one another for a long moment before Sara took her mother’s hand and led her to the elevator.

  19

  January 28, 1986

  Space Oddity

  I walked into my history class with my book in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other.

  “Throw that away, please, Mr. Girch,” Ms. Nelson said. She pointed at the garbage can. “No food in class.”

  I crunched into the apple one more time and then chucked the core into the metal wastebasket on my way to my desk.

  “Take a seat, everyone,” Ms. Nelson said, holding both hands up, palms facing out to quiet us. “We’re about to watch the Challenger space shuttle leave Cape Canaveral in about five minutes.” She switched on the television that sat on a cart at the front of the room.

  I slid into my seat and turned around to give Roger a look. He lifted his chin in response.

  “Today we’re going to watch an historical event take place,” Ms. Nelson droned on in her monotone voice. “We’re going to watch the first teacher go into space.”

  I set my book on my desk with a thud. The girls in front of me were facing each other across the aisle, their feet nearly touching as one of them filed her fingernails. The other blew a bubble with her gum.

  “Who cares if a teacher goes into space?” said the one filing her nails. “They should send them all to the moon.”

  I turned again and looked at Roger; he was watching the girls in front of me with a half-smile.

  “Now, I want you to pay attention to the takeoff and watch this momentous event unfold, because when we’re done watching, I’m going to ask you to write a short essay about the space program and I’d like you to include information about the Challenger and this particular mission.” Unhappy chatter broke out around the room as people complained about the writing assignment. “Okay, here we go.” Ms. Nelson moved to her desk and rolled her chair into position so she could see the television screen.

  “Wait,” I said out loud without meaning to.

  “Daniel?” Ms. Nelson spun around in her chair and looked at me. “Is everything okay?”

  I didn’t respond. My eyes were glued to the screen as the countdown to liftoff began. I knew what was about to happen in the next few minutes, and for the first time since I’d arrived in 1986, I felt a detachment from my surroundings that felt more monumental than seeing my mom as a kid or walking through the halls of my high school when it was still fairly new. I felt like an invader—a potentially dangerous one—with information that could both help and hurt people.

  “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, we have main engine start,” the man from ground control said. My heart started to race. Could I still stop this? I needed to stop this. I stood up at my desk.

  “Daniel?” Ms. Nelson said again, turning around fully in her chair. Most of the kids in my class were looking at me now, and the girl who’d been filing her nails was gaping at me, mouth open.

  “Five, four, three, two, one. And liftoff.”

  I shook my head. My eyes stayed glued on the screen as I waited for impending disaster. We’d just talked about the space program and learned about the Challenger recently, so the minute Ms. Nelson had mentioned the first teacher in space, I’d known. But what could I do now? The shuttle moved away from the earth, its ascent slow and unstoppable.

  I couldn’t remember how long it had been in flight before the explosion, but I knew it separated in mid-air, and that no one had survived.

  “Daniel, have a seat,” Ms. Nelson said, turning back around to watch the screen.

  “But,” I said, gesturing at the image of the shuttle as it made an arc through the sky.

  “What’s his problem?” asked the girl in front of me with the gum. The other girl shrugged and went back to filing her nails.

  Their voices penetrated the thick layer of shock and anticipation that surrounded me. I looked at them with narrowed eyes.

  “My problem is that we’re about to watch a bunch of people die,” I said, glaring at the girl with the nail file. She threw her friend a look that said, “Can you believe this guy?”

  “Daniel Girch,” Ms. Nelson huffed, standing up from her chair and making her way down the middle aisle. “What is going on with you today? This is totally out of character—”

  “It’s about to blow,” I said, nodding at the television. “Any second now.”

  “What’s about to blow?” Ms. Nelson turned back around and watched the shuttle as it crossed the blue sky.

  Suddenly, the Challenger exploded into a ball of fire on the screen, separating into two different trajectories as the class watched, mouths hanging open in shock. There were gasps from a few people in the room, and cries of surprise from the hallways and the classrooms around us.

  Some of the girls in the room started to sob, and more than one person stood up at their desks, staring helplessly as the pieces of the shuttle drifted through the clear morning sky over Florida. Ms. Nelson pushed back her chair and stood up to face the class. She reached over and turned off the television with the push of the button.

  “This is a tragic event,” she said. Her words were slow and drawn out. Her eyes looked like glass. “We’ve just gone from watching the first teacher board a space shuttle, to watching the spacecraft explode before our eyes.”

  “Are they really dead?” a girl in the corner of the room asked. It was clear from the look on her face that she wasn’t convinced. Or maybe it was just that she was hopeful.

  “Yes, Savannah, it looks that way.” Ms. Nelson held one arm out to the side as a girl named Jenna rushed to her and leaned her head against the teacher’s shoulder. Ms. Nelson held onto Jenna while she addressed the class. “We’re going to need some time to process this,” she said, the first shocked tears falling from her eyes as she looked at all of us. “And it’s okay for us to feel whatever we’re feeling as we do.”

  Pulling Jenna to her side protectively, Ms. Nelson lo
oked at me again. “Daniel,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Why did you say that? How did you know?”

  I could feel the eyes of every person in the room on me. There wasn’t a good enough answer to explain how I’d known.

  Roger cleared his throat from the back of the room and I turned my head to look at him. He cocked an eyebrow and his look said stay cool.

  “I don’t know,” I said to Ms. Nelson, resisting the urge to say anything that would alarm her. Had I been smart, I would have said nothing and just watched the Challenger explode. Calling attention to myself had been a dumb move. “I don’t really know.”

  Ms. Nelson looked skeptical as she patted Jenna and pushed the cart back towards the blackboard. “I’m in shock.” The realization of the incident set in and her hands began to shake uncontrollably. “And the fact that one of our classmates said something—hopefully as a joke—that predicted such an event…” Ms. Nelson’s words trailed off as she stared at me again, this time with the suspicion you might give to someone who’d just predicted your future correctly.

  “I don’t know,” I said again, shaking my head. It was my only defense.

  The girls in front of me turned and stared openly. I couldn’t tell if they were more surprised about the shuttle actually exploding, or by the fact that I’d known it was about to happen.

  Two rows over, a girl had her forehead on the desk. Her shoulders shook as she cried.

  “Daniel, can I see you in the hall, please?” Ms. Nelson walked across the room, her wide hips swaying as she opened the door and waited for me to join her.

  Outside, the hall was quiet. The door closed and we stood there facing each other.

  “I think this is serious, Daniel.” Ms. Nelson folded her arms across her chest. “Making a statement like that is dangerous anyway, but the fact that it actually happened raises even more questions.” She twisted her hands nervously. She couldn’t meet my gaze.

  I dragged the toe of my shoe across the floor until it squeaked. “I didn’t mean to,” I said half-heartedly. “I was kidding.”

  Ms. Nelson pressed her lips together. “That’s the thing, Daniel. I don’t think you were. You seemed very sure of yourself, and frankly, I’m a little alarmed.”

  “Okay. So maybe I can just say sorry for freaking people out?” I offered.

  “I’d actually like you to go and see the principal. I feel like having you in class right now is a poor choice.”

  “But am I in trouble? I didn’t mean to say that,” I said. “I don’t want to get suspended.”

  “Suspended?” Ms. Nelson looked surprised. “No one’s talking about suspension, Daniel. I just think the best way to diffuse the situation here is to have you leave the room for today.” She reached out and put a hand on my arm to reassure me. “It was just strange. It’s an unsettling situation.”

  “I understand.” I took a few steps back. “I’ll go see Principal Walker now.”

  Everyone in the office was gathered around the small television on the counter when I walked in. The head secretary had a Kleenex bunched up in her hands and there were tears in her eyes.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said, holding the Kleenex to her nose. “I just can’t believe it.”

  No one looked up as I walked into the office, so I stood there at the counter, waiting for someone to ask me what I was doing.

  “Hi,” I finally said, rousing the secretary. “I’m supposed to see Principal Walker.”

  She looked at me from behind the hand with the Kleenex. “Have a seat, hon,” she said, nodding at a vinyl chair next to a potted plant. “He’ll call for you in a sec.”

  I sat down and waited, listening to the news report that blared from the television set.

  “After seventy-three seconds in the air, the space shuttle Challenger has exploded over the Atlantic Ocean,” the news announcer’s voice said.

  “I can’t believe it,” the secretary said again, “I just can’t believe it.”

  The phones rang and went unanswered. Principal Walker didn’t materialize. In the end, he came out for a minute looking worried, his necktie loosened and hanging at an angle.

  “Daniel?” He frowned at me. “I heard about what happened in Ms. Nelson’s class. Very bizarre coincidence. Seems that Ms. Nelson and some of the kids in class are feeling strange about you saying that, so I think the best thing to do is to have you go home for the day.”

  I leaned back in my chair and put a fist to my forehead. How was I going to explain this to my grandparents?

  “We couldn’t catch your parents at home, but we did manage to get your brother on the phone,” Mr. Walker said. His hand drifted to the knot of his tie and he seemed to realize for the first time that it was off-center and made him look like he’d been drinking at his desk. He yanked the knot into place at the center of his throat. “Andrew was one of our finest athletes,” he said. A wistful look passed over his face. “I’ve followed his college career closely.”

  “Right,” I said, staring at Principal Walker. His man-crush on Andy’s athletic abilities was both obvious and embarrassing. “So is Andy coming to get me?”

  “He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Walker said, turning his back to me. “Sit tight.”

  Ten minutes later I heard the rumble of Andy’s car as it pulled up to the curb out front.

  “Looks like my ride’s here,” I said to no one in particular. “Should I, like, sign out or anything?” The secretary had disappeared and a woman in a janitor’s uniform was emptying a trash can into her larger barrel on wheels. She looked at me and we shrugged at each other. “Guess I’ll just go.”

  I took the steps two at a time and jumped down onto the pavement. As I did, I realized that I’d left my backpack and textbook in Ms. Nelson’s room. I was sure they’d be there tomorrow when I got to school.

  Andy leaned over and unlocked the passenger side door of the Camaro. “Get in, dipshit.” I climbed in next to him and he gunned the engine. With a final push on the gas, he tore out of the lot, leaving a trail of smoke in our wake. “So where should we go?”

  I looked at Andy. Weren’t we going home to face the music? Surely my grandparents would have to hear about how I’d shouted out something in class that made everyone think I was some sort of terrorist. I’d undoubtedly have to account for my stupid remark turning into reality, and I’d need to explain myself over dinner, promising them that I’d never do anything so stupid or juvenile again. After all, I didn’t want to get into trouble before graduation, or to jeopardize my chances of going to a decent college.

  “Huh?” Andy prodded me, swinging his car onto the freeway onramp. “You got a plan, or should we just ride?”

  I shrugged. The sky outside the car windows was as blue as it had been on the television screen as the Challenger had crumbled into fiery bits. But it was cold. A cold, clear winter day in New York. I had no idea where we should go.

  “How about the falls?” Andy asked, punching the accelerator and gunning it so that we could pull in front of a semi-truck. There was a small dam not far from Westchester that resulted in a rushing waterfall. All the local kids referred to it simply as “the falls.” I’d gone there in 2016 a number of times (the falls were the best place to go if you wanted to do something you weren’t supposed to be doing) and I was completely familiar with the graffiti-covered bridge that kids like to sit on while they spit or poured beer into the waterfall.

  “The falls are fine.”

  Andy had one hand looped lazily through the bottom of the steering wheel. He looked over at me. “You’re skipping school, man.”

  “Not really. They kind of sent me home.”

  “Can I give you a word of advice?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Let’s not tell Mom and Dad. There are things they don’t really need to know.”

  “And me getting suspended for the day is one of them?” I put one hand on my knee and watched as the trees alongside the freeway whizzed past us.

 
; “Let’s not think of it as ‘getting suspended,’” Andy said, punching me lightly on my left shoulder. “It’s more like you weren’t feeling well this afternoon and they called to have someone pick you up. That someone just happened to be me.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  He pulled the Camaro off at an exit and we stopped smoothly at a light. “Of course it makes sense, little man.” Andy reached over and ran a hand roughly over the top of my head. “And it’s not even a lie—you were clearly feeling weird, right?”

  “Yeah, definitely.”

  Andy drove us to the parking lot near the bridge over the falls. We went out onto the ledge together, walking carefully along the narrow bridge that no longer held car traffic. I knew it had once been working and was the main thoroughfare between two counties, but both ends of the bridge had been blocked off, and the sides looked almost dangerous with their crumbling rails and loose chunks of concrete.

  “Sit,” Andy said, pointing at a spot that had a sturdy stretch of handrail. We sat behind the rail, our legs dangling out over the loud waterfall beneath us. “I come out here a lot to think. Just hearing the falls clears my head.” Andy stared at the rushing water for a second. “And I’ve been out here with a lot of different girls.” He looked out ahead of us.

  “I’m sure.” I smirked.

  “Not like that,” Andy said, kicking my foot with his foot. “I joke around all the time about chicks, but it’s not really as bad as I make it sound. I treat them right.”

  “I’m sure you do,” I said, unable to keep the creepy, suggestive tone out of my voice.

  “No, I’m being serious.” Andy folded his hands together and put his elbows on his thighs as he watched the water spill over the side of the dam below us. “As your big brother, I feel obligated to teach you my ways,” he said, squinting at the bright sky. “And I’m telling you, no matter what else you do, treat girls right.”