By and By

 

“I can see the whole world from up here,” I said between breaths as I gazed upon the view from the top of the straw yellow hill that stood tall at the edge of town.

“I can see the future from here,” he whispered into my ear, his breath grazing the spot on my neck that always caused goosebumps to rise down one side of my body and back up the other.

“Oh yeah, and what does that look like?” I turned back, away from the edge, and met his gaze. His brown eyes were a cliché, alluring and playful.

He grinned, and he placed his hands on my shoulders and gently turned me back around, before pulling me back into his embrace. “There,” he said, raising one arm away from my waist and pointing out across the valley. I followed his finger, but saw nothing in particular, just the endless rows of suburban housing grid, repeating itself across the valley before stopping abruptly against the hills on the far side.

“Where?”

“You don’t see it? It’s the English countryside, and across those green fields is our stone cottage. You are inside, still asleep.”

“Oh,” I replied, “but why aren’t you sleeping next to me?”

“Because our daughter woke up early, but I thought I would let you sleep, so I took her out to feed the horses.”

“We have horses?” I turned back to face him again.

“Of course,” he smiled, and he pulled me to him again.

As I stared at his face, I could almost feel his lips pressed against mine, the way they had on that hill top twenty years ago. For so long those eyes, the ones I now saw staring back at me from my computer screen, had only existed in my memory, but now here they were again, though now they were framed with the creases of the time that has passed.

I scrolled down to the “view profile” button. I clicked it and silently wished that he wasn’t one of those that hid everything from those not on his friends list. A second later the screen refreshed, and I wanted to take back my wish.  

There on the screen in front of me was exactly what I did not need to know. His relationship status, married. His current home, Leicester, UK. Children, one. The life he had dreamed about with me, he was now living, with somebody else.

A voice broke my trance, “what’s wrong honey?”

I closed the incognito tab, “nothing.”

“You sure? You looked like you were about to cry.”

“Just allergies,” I replied as I shut the laptop and set it on the table, “hey, how about we go to dinner tonight, perhaps that new pub that just opened? I have a sudden craving for fish and chip

Over and Over

 

Steve’s right index finger hovered over the blue button. It wasn’t the right color blue. The one on Amazon had been more turquoise, and this one was definitely royal. That’s not the color he’d imagined, the billion times he had day-dreamed about this exact moment. Oh well, there was nothing that could be done about it now. And at least it glowed, so that was something.  

He pressed it, and held his breath.

Nothing changed. The room was exactly the same as before.

Then he realized he was talking to himself, only his mouth wasn’t moving. He whipped around, and, wait a minute, had there always been a mirror there? Except it wasn’t a mirror, it was him, another him, same clothes, same hair, everything. Except this second him was talking, and he was pissed.

“What the fuck is this?” second Steve was screaming.

“I don’t know, this wasn’t supposed to happen.” Replied original Steve.

“Right,” replied second Steve,” I was supposed to jump into another timeline, not create a carbon copy of myself.”

“Exactly, wait, you’re the copy, not me! I’m the one who pressed the button, then you appeared.”

“No, I pressed the button,” before first Steve could react, second Steve had shoved past him and was now standing poised with his finger hovering above the button, “just like this.” Second Steve pushed the button.

First Steve hadn’t noticed it the first time, but this time he was aware of a barely perceptible change when the button was pressed. It was as if the universe held it’s breath, just for a second.

And then there were three.

“What the actual fuck.” Were Steve number three’s first words.

Second Steve shrugged.

First Steve rubbed his temples, “great, just great, now there are two of you.”

“You mean THREE of US.” Second Steve seemed to have anger issues.

“The good news is I’m pretty sure I know what I did wrong, and all I have to do is,” before the first two Steve’s could react, the third Steve pressed the button.

And then there were four, but before the newest Steve could speak the original threw his hands up in the air, “DUDE,” he exclaimed, “why would you do that? You didn't do anything different, you just pressed the button!”

The first three Steve’s started arguing about who, exactly, was at fault for the predicament they were in. Things were said, words were exchanged, there was posturing, and gesturing, and as fists started to ball in anger, Steve number four cleared his throat. 

“Guys,” he said.

The other three Steve’s stopped what they were doing, suddenly aware of how crowded the room had become.

“Oh fuck, how many of us are there now?”

Dozens of eyes blinked back, wordlessly.

“WELL?!”

“Now Steve, just calm down, yelling never solved anything.”

“Yeah, and I suppose you have the solution, hmm Steve number… wait, what number are you anyway?”

“That hardly matters, because at least I’m not you. I would never make a mistake this idiotic. Because what do you do when you press that button, hmm? You make a choice, which creates a new timeline. But the button, it prevents the new timeline from breaking off into it’s own new reality, and now this one is clogged up with far too many Steve’s. I figure, though, there are enough of us now that if we put our heads together, we can set things right."

Four by Four

 

The sun came in through the gauzy curtains warm and syrupy, like summer. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, and as my brain pulled itself from the fog of sleep, I realized, it was summer. As of yesterday, I was free for the next three months. I rolled over the pulled the blankets up over my head. The entire summer stretched out before me, no sense in starting it off sleepy.

Someone screamed. At first it worked its way into my dream, but when it just kept going, I woke up. I don’t know how long I had been sleeping for, but the sunlight in my room was different. I leaped out of bed and pushed the curtains outside, but no one was out there. Still the screaming persisted.

I ran across my room and threw open the door. The screaming got louder.

“Hello?” I called out.

The screaming stopped, and suddenly she was there. My eight-year-old sister, wearing her pajamas, and holding her left arm to her side at an unnatural angle.

“Miranda, what happened?!”

Her eyes glassed over with tears.

“Okay, okay, where’s mom?”

“Work” she sobbed.

That’s what I was afraid of. Mom worked on the bay. It would be nearly impossible to get in touch with her.

I pulled Miranda close to me, as my mind raced with what I should do. Just then there was a knock at the front door. Miranda froze, her tears momentarily quelled by fear.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, “just wait here, keep quiet, I’ll go see who it is.”

I carefully padded down the stairs, making sure to avoid the one that squeaks, and slid in my socks across the hallway to the front door. I peered through the peephole, where I saw a young man waiting on the other side. I recognized him as the son from the family that moved into the house across the street a few weeks before. I exhaled with relief and opened the door.

“Is everything okay in there,” he said, “I heard screams.”

“Yes,” I said, “well, no actually, I think my sister has broken her arm, or dislocated it at least.” I hesitated, should I tell him we were alone? I could hear Miranda start to whimper again upstairs. “And our mother is at work,” I continued, “she wont be home until tonight.

“Oh, your mother works?”

Miranda started wailing again, saving me from the questions that were soon to follow.

“Oh gosh, I need to get her to a doctor, you don’t happen to have any gas we could borrow? I know its expensive, but I’m sure we could pay you back.”

“Of couse,” he said, as he turned and trotted back down our front drive, “just stay here, I’ll be back in just a sec.”

A few minutes later I heard the distinct sound of hoofs, trotting up the driveway, and in the next minute he was there, in a wooden cart pulled by two chestnut horses.

“Come-on” he patted the empty bench seats next to him on the cart.

By now I had helped Miranda to the porch, where we both stood waiting.

“But you said you had gas?”

“Not me, them,” he gestured to his horses.

I cocked one eyebrow at him.

“Hop on, let’s go. We’ll get you to the doctor,” he winked at Miranda, “and after a few minutes of sitting behind these girls,” he gestured to his horses again, “you’ll have your fill of gas.”

“Eww,” Miranda exclaimed. She seemed to have forgotten all about her pain.

I put my arm around Miranda, and helped her into the wagon. A free ride was a free ride, even if it was a bit stinky.

Two by Two

 

There is a small room behind the principal’s office, and inside is a molded plastic chair, which is orange, a chipped white Formica side table, and an eight-year-old girl with stringy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a neutral expression on her face. Her name is Anne, and she knows she is in trouble. How much though, she isn’t sure. She’s been trying to listen to the whispered discussion on the other side of the door, but its hard to hear, and she’s been told to stay in her seat until her mother arrives. It didn’t matter though, she knew what they were saying, plus she figured it was best not to add to the list of reasons why her mother was going to be lecturing her on the car ride home.

The moment the whispering stopped the heavy wooden door swung open, and there was Anne’s mother. She didn’t say anything, which was to be expected, the lecture wouldn’t start until they were alone, in the car.

Anne took her mother’s lead, and wordlessly fell in step behind her, as she turned and headed out of the office into the bright spring sunshine.

The first three stoplights between the school, and Anne’s house, were green, but the fourth one was red. That was when Anne’s mother spoke.

“Holding hands?” Anne’s mother said, while making eye contact with her in the rearview mirror.

Anne didn’t respond, she just looked away.

“And with three different boys, Tom, Lance, and Brian? Why would you do that, you know you’re too young!”

Anne continued to avoid eye contact, perhaps if she didn’t look at her mother.

“ANNE”

The scream caused Anne’s head to swivel forward. Her mother had turned in her seat and was now staring directly at her, no reflection in the mirror to soften the glare.

“I’m sorry mom, I just…”

“You just what?”

“I just wanted to find my pair, like Sarah, I thought if I could then maybe I could leave, and go be with her at The Station.”

The look on her mother’s face softened, but the sound of a car horn signaled the light had turned green. Her mother turned forward again and resumed driving toward home.

A few minutes later, she spoke again. “Anne, I know you miss your sister, but you are far too young to find your pair. Even if you did somehow manage to locate them, and hold their hand, a link wouldn’t occur, not yet. That part of your mind won’t even develop for another couple of years. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Anne looked up; her mother was watching her in the mirror again. Her eyes were glassy, as if on the verge of tears. Anne nodded.

 “Good,” she sighed, “and listen, when you sister is done with her year one mind control, we can go visit her at The Station. Does that sound good?”

Anne nodded again, but inside she was thinking “are you hearing this?”

“Yup,” came Brian’s voice in her head, “but she’s lying.”

“I know,” Anne thought in return.

One by One

 

Sarah went first, well before the sunset, but it wasn’t a surprise. She was sick. The sick never lasted very long.

Then it was Kevin, snatched away so quickly he didn’t even finish his beverage. It sat, half drunk and quickly warming on the table, forgotten.

Taylor and Thomas were next. It was fitting, since they rarely left each other’s sides. They were twins, after all. Fraternal, not identical, but they still seemed mostly the same to me.

There were five of us left when the sun started to set, and it was decided we should probably go inside. 

For a long time, nothing happened, then Katie had to go to the bathroom. Katie was my best friend. We both had blonde hair and blue eyes, and we were both only children, so we had a lot in common. And just like Taylor and Thomas, we rarely left each other’s sides, but Manny thought it would be safer if he went with her to the restroom. So, I stayed behind with the others in the relative security of the room.

When Manny returned, he was alone. As he walked back through the door without Katie, my heart dropped. We locked eyes, and then I looked away. He didn’t say anything to me, he didn’t need to.

Now there were just three of us left. Me, Manny, and Chaya. We sat quietly in the room, alone together. Manny was behind the desk, writing. Chaya was at the table, reading a book, or at least pretending to. And I was on the floor, with a puzzle, that just a few minutes before I had been working on putting together with Katie. I looked at the picture on the box, a horse. Katie loved horses. With a sigh I started pulling the pieces apart and putting them away. There was no point in finishing it now.

I was trying to shove the puzzle box back on the overcrowded shelf when there was movement by the door. In the blink of an eye Chaya got up and ran, and before I could say anything, she was gone. I couldn’t believe it, now it was just me, left here alone with Manny.

At the front of the room Manny sighed. I could tell he was upset. He stood abruptly, the chair scraping across the floor as he did. Then just as suddenly he sat again.

“Sorry,” he said, “it’s not your fault.”

I just nodded.

Time seemed to be passing slower now. I watched the hands of the clock march around it's face. It was nearly 6:30. Manny was now tapping on the desk with a pencil, an outlet for his exasperation. Then, just as the minute hand settled on top of the 6, the door flew open. It was my mother. A wide smile spread across my face, and I stood to run toward her.

Manny stood too. “Mrs. Cockcroft, this is the third time this month. Daycare closes at 6, if you can’t pick up your daughter on time, you will have to find somewhere else to take her after school.”

 

Step by Step

 

I could just say it I think as I lie there in the pitch-black room, staring at the ceiling, listing to the rumble grumble slumber coming from the pillow next to me. I could just open wide and let the words tumble out. I even tried it, opening and closing my mouth several times, like a fish caught high and dry on the muddy shore, gasping for air. And I realize that is exactly what I am, stuck, and floundering.

I roll over, pull the covers up, and bury my head under my pillow. It works to drown out the snoring, but not the din inside my head. “Tomorrow”, I whisper, “just let me go to sleep tonight, and I’ll start tomorrow, I promise.”

A sliver of sunlight pierced my slumber, and before I even open my eyes, I know I’m going to have to hold up my end of the bargain.

“Fuck” I whisper.

“What’s wrong” comes a concerned voice from downstairs.

Fuck Fuck Fuck! I think

“Honey,” I say out loud, “can you come in here?”

The sweat sprouts from my brow in anticipation of the next words I’m going to say. It’s 64 degrees in the bedroom, but my skin is hot and damp.

I hear footsteps in the hall, then on the stairs. Any moment now. My brain tries to organize my sleepy thoughts, but its no use, everything is still sluggish, thick like molasses. There will be no sugar coating it. Eloquence is not yet awake. I’m just going to have to blurt it out.

My partner steps through the door, he looks more confused than concerned. I take a deep breath, my brain grasping one last time for a way out, but this time my mouth overrides it.

“I have a problem,” I say. My voice is threatening to catch. My brain is threatening me with tears, but I hold them back.

My partner cocks an eyebrow, but otherwise reveals no emotion.

With a sigh of resignation, I reach for the handle to my bedside drawer, and yank it open dramatically. My shame tumbles out into a giant crinkly pile on the floor.

“Wow”, my partner says, stifling a laugh, “that’s an awful lot of candy wrappers.”

I lose the battle with my emotions and feel tears escape, and start to roll down my cheeks.

“Oh no, no, don’t cry, why are you so upset?”

“Because we’re meant to be doing No-Sugar-November. I didn’t even make it a day.”

“Well clearly,” he said, still trying to reign in his giggles, “we’re only five days into the month, but that looks like the remnants of a Halloween size bag of Hershey’s.”

I could feel my lip quivering.

“Wait,” he said, “is that why we ran out of candy so early on Halloween night?”

I nodded

“We had to turn off the porch light and hide from the trick-or-treaters!”

“I know” I wailed.

“Oh, it’s okay honey,” he put his arm around me, “we’ll work though this together, baby steps, we’ll slay those sugar cravings!”

 

Side by Side

 

The pulse of the day is a heartbeat growing louder as the Grey May morning gives way to a bright and sunny summer Saturday. Sometimes I feel like I’ve been choreographing my life. Two stepping through the morning routine, coffee, toast, yogurt, fried eggs if I’m feeling fancy, all while ignoring my neighbor in his kitchen, dancing the same dance as me, separated by single paned glass, and about twenty feet . Briefly our eyes lock, me wielding a spatula, him a frying pan, but we spin away, sashay-shante, I didn’t see you, you didn’t see me. That’s life in the little city.

Breakfast done, chores begun. The Saturday shuffle is in full swing now. But it’s summer, which means at some point in time we all dip into our backyards. A million lives played out side by side in our postage-stamp green oasis. A patchwork of gardens, a patchwork of blocks, a patchwork of neighborhoods, the quilt of humanity.

The kids are first. Yelling in the backyard that backs up to mine. Their brand-new Christmas swing set hasn’t yet lost it’s luster, but then again, summer has just begun. Next it’s the new neighbor in the one bedroom rental next door. She’s throwing a garden party today. Then the raking starts from the other new neighbor on the other side, the one who so kindly pretends he can’t see me in my jammies every morning as I make breakkie in my kitchen because I refuse to close the blinds to the morning sun, but then again, so does he.

I come in on my que, joining the symphony with the rhythmic tinkling of water from my hose, coaxing the plants I had failed to water for a bit too long back to life. From elsewhere in the neighborhood, dogs barking, and more kids, a birthday party probably, and the sound of a basketball thumping against a slab of concreate.

The beat of the neighborhood is an orchestra accompanying my outside chores, while the breeze shakes the leaves in the trees like maracas, where the birds sing their melodies, but then a scream brakes through the piece. It wasn’t part of the song, it was as if the conductor said stop, the mike dropped, and record scratched to a halt. Something was wrong.

The shriek left a rift of silence, but no sooner had it fallen then the murmurs began, and as if on queue the shuffling of feet as we all ran to our front doors to stand on our porch scratching our heads.  Where had it come from, was somebody dead? All up and down the street, neighbors on their stoops, wondering what to do next. Then the sirens started. We shuffled about, exchanging looks of concern, as the wailing drew near, then passed us by.

 So that was it then.

Perhaps this is a musical, off Broadway of course, the script snatched up cheap and destined to become made for tv movie, with an ultra cliche ending. This is the last number, the scene is drawing to a close. The camera pans out to a bird's eye view of the great tapestry that is life in near suburbia as we all head inside, instep, and follow the beat to our own backyards to resume our scripted chores. Fade to black.

But what happened with that scream? Well, stick around to find out because after this commercial break, we'll be right back.