Remember Me (24 page)

It was the first time I’d prayed since the day Emily hadn’t been born. I had no idea what tomorrow would bring—only that it would indeed bring something.

When I awoke in the morning, the picture wasn’t any

clearer than it had been the previous night. The only difference was that most of my anger had abated. I was no longer blinded by my fury. My mind was focused and intensely sharp. I had found a purpose! That would be the better term for my state of mind. In all of my dealings with Thurington I’d learned one thing: there would be no ready answers to all of my whys or what ifs. It was a copout. His answers did nothing for me then and definitely offered little comfort now. The very uncertainty made everything I did or didn’t do all the more excruciating.

There was no promise that any damage I did in this world could ever be undone. In one of his intellectual banters, Thurington pointed out to me, that I very well could be the lone isolated case in perpetuity for successful time travel. There might never be an answer or a solution to the quandary in which I found myself. It was a thought which made me even more uncertain.

The malevolent theories of “time” cursed my dreams and

attacked my daily thoughts. If this was the same timeline, then the wormhole would appear again. But the paradoxical views affecting time didn’t fit the professional assumptions on time travel. Thurington brushed this notion away as neatly as a maid cleaning house. There was no previous data to compare it to in the first place. No one really knew! Everything written or theorized was purely speculation.

For better or worse, my life had already taken on a calling S 178 S

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to help others. After seeing Amy yesterday, it was a much different road I’d be traveling on. I made the contentious decision to become involved and personally interfere in the life of someone I loved. I had originally planned to make a difference in the world. Now I would try to make Amy’s life better also.

It felt right, yet I knew it could go all wrong. Was I being self-absorbed? Who knew? I didn’t care, because no one could ever relate to my situation. To me; not interfering would be worse than whatever the outcome might be.

I would have to do this all on my own. If I even tried to communicate my idea with Thurington, he would most determinedly try to talk me out of it. I even expected he would be more than willing to tie me to a chair and leave me there. I had made my decision, and there was no turning back.

In trying to find Tom, I had one thing to go on. He drove a mint-condition, dark moss-green, Ford Mustang. It even had a set of fluffy, white dice hanging on the rearview mirror. In two thousand and ten he still had his “baby.” He drove it around in all the local parades. If only he’d had put as much care and love into his marriage.

I didn’t try to outthink myself. I didn’t want to prevent Amy and Tom from getting married, but only to help Amy keep the sanctity of her marriage vow by becoming a watchdog on Tom. I had lots of time to formulate a plan as I drove around the campus scouting for his Mustang. Trust and responsibility were two of the most important beliefs that Amy and I shared.

The Andrew and Amy of this time and place had not met. It was a safe bet that they never would if I accomplished what I intended. I could live with that, provided they each found a way to be happy in spite of my meddling.

There was one conversation I remember having with Amy.

It was one of those what if moments. I told her that I wished we had met when we were first starting out with our lives. We S 179 S

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might have shared a lifetime of happiness together. I could only imagine what having children with her might have been like. Her reply was not what I expected, “What makes you so sure I would have even liked you back then or you me?”

I stammered in my reply, “Because I think we are the two halves of the whole, meant for each other.” I was naïve in my romantic notions, and if the truth bears me out—probably too much so. Amy loved and needed me, but she was also a realist.

She lived in the world of the here and now. I learned a lot from her. In many ways she grounded me from soaring too high

above the clouds. I never let it deter me from flying above the ground though. If I couldn’t be her knight in shining armor, then I would be the man who, every day, made sure that she knew how much I loved her.

Amy saw the past for what it was and not for what it should have been. Life was all about today. And; even though the past shapes the lives we live today, we all have the choice to either live for tomorrow, or deluge ourselves with the short-comings of the past. To dwell and wallow on what did or didn’t happen was to continue wishing for a different outcome. It was something that you couldn’t have. It was the easy way out. It was full of blame and broken promises. It was not taking responsibility for, and not living your life. Living is all about today and being thankful for what is right and good in your life. It’s learning to deal with and overcoming the bad things that occur along the way. Living was standing up, saying you were sorry with sincerity, and taking the next step forward.

She was wrong this time, because I could make a difference in her past. She just didn’t know it, and there would be no way to tell her. I could make a difference and make sure she had the kind of life she worked so hard to achieve. It also meant that I would need to watch over the other Andrew as S 180 S

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well. He was the one who was going to be hurt the most. I took little comfort from the fact that he wouldn’t ever know it. But then again, maybe time had already been reset to make his life fulfilling. Who really knew?

Amy was one of those truly rare individuals. She was

kind-hearted and cared about everyone around her. She could forgive without effort and love with all her heart. She had touched me and made me a better man just by knowing…

and loving her. That kind of love never leaves you. Once it has touched you, you are forever in its embrace. I would use some of the guiding spirit she instilled in me to also help the Andrew of this world. If life was preordained—as suggested by some, then in the end what I attempted to do would have little to no bearing on the ultimate direction of the future. It was but a tiny glimmer of hope, should I succeed or fail in my task.

A loud rumble shook me out of my deep thoughts. I didn’t see the Mustang, I heard it. It was two-thirty and I was cruising through one of the dormitory parking lots. I heard the deafening roar of a muscle car and stopped my Blazer to listen. I already had my window rolled down. The side street to my right and running parallel with the parking lot was empty except for a dark moss-green Mustang. The car accelerated down the road and headed south. I hit the gas, made a right hand turn at the end of the parking row, and sped to the nearest exit onto University Boulevard.

Thank goodness for a red light or I might have lost Tom. He was heading away from the campus and towards downtown. I wondered if he was meeting Amy there or if he’d already said his goodbye to her. I reached on the seat next to me, where I had placed a roll of duct tape and a baseball bat. I ran my hand over the bat. What I would do with either of them—I hadn’t a clue. The bat was more for my protection in case Tom decided to become physical with me. I wanted to let him make his first S 181 S

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move with whomever and then corner him before it could

escalate. I was going to document his indiscretion on my cell phone. I only had half of the battery life left. It was too late now, but I wished I had stopped to purchase a camera to use instead.

I stayed far enough behind Tom that he shouldn’t notice

me. There was enough other traffic moving around us to cam-ouflage my surveillance. He was headed towards the college district of shops, restaurants, and taverns. He found a parking spot right in front of a bar called, “Clancy’s.” I had to keep going. It was nearly two-blocks before I could find a parking spot for my Blazer. I left the bat and tape where they sat on the seat.

I didn’t need to don a disguise; Tom wouldn’t have a clue who I really was. I felt pretty certain that Amy wouldn’t be at the bar either. She wasn’t a drinker and never had been.

Clancy’s had a double-door entryway into the bar. As I

opened the outer door, a suction of air caused the inner door to rattle in its frame. Dimness greeted my eyes as I stepped into the bar. Clancy’s was probably similar to every other college-town bar. Dark paneling lined one side of the bar. Booths ran all along its wall. The booths were large enough for six people if you liked to be crammed in like sardines. They ran all the way to the back, where the wall ended. It was the same on the other side, but halfway down, the booths stopped where the bar began. Without counting, it looked like eight or nine stools were propped in front of the bar. Two televisions were mounted above the bar at either end. Wrought-iron lamps

hung over each of the booths, barely casting enough glow for anyone to read a menu. The floor was wood and well worn.

Bare patches showed through the varnish like wounds earned during a hard-fought battle.

It was Saturday—the last Saturday before finals, so the bar was nearly full. The music was playing too loud for my taste.

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I doubt anyone else cared about my opinion. This wasn’t the ideal place to come for a meal and quiet conversation. My already nervous stomach did a flip-flop, when I caught the aroma of hot cheese and garlic coming from the kitchen. The tiny kitchen was behind the bar and stuffed into a closet-sized space. I figured Clancy’s was mainly interested in catering to the drinkers. The food was extra filler and not the main staple of the place. It was a place to get drunk and play the games of lust. A big banner hung over the booths to my right, “Happy Hour, EVERY HOUR.” In smaller type, below the larger slogan it said, “Ask about today’s specials.”

“Hey Mister, you meeting someone or are you here by

yourself?” a girl in a pink Clancy’s polo shirt asked me. Her neck line was cut way low, showing off her cleavage. She had auburn hair, lots of freckles, and used way too much make-up.

Her jean-shorts were extra short and extra snug. Her white tennis shoes rounded out her uniform. “If you’re not meeting anyone, could you sit at the bar? We only got a few booths left, and we try to fill them,” she asked impatiently.

“Not a problem,” I replied and gave her my best smile. I felt way out of my element. I remembered the time I visited my oldest daughter at college and she took me to one of the campus establishments, as she called it. It was one of those defining moments in your life. My little girl was now an adult.

We shared our first drink together. As Samantha and I tried to talk and eat the food that she declared to be “the best ever,” I looked around at all the pretty girls and young men. I officially took note that they were the same age as my daughter. I felt old for the first time in my life. That’s the way I felt now—even older and more out of place.

I moved to the bar and took one of the two remaining

empty stools. From my vantage point, I could make out who sat in many of the booths along both walls. I’d given a cursory S 183 S

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glance at the two booths directly behind the stool I’d claimed, right before I sat down. Tom hadn’t been in either of them. I didn’t see him in any of the others as I walked towards the bar.

For an instant, I panicked. I wondered if I’d been had and he bolted out the back exit. I needn’t have worried. I no more than put in my order for whatever draft was on tap, when he emerged from the bathroom to my left.

I had laid a five on the bar and was rewarded in turn with two glasses of beer. I looked up at the bartender and catching my eye he said, “Twofers.”

I nodded. Grabbing one of the glasses, I raised it to my mouth and downed half of it. I used the moment to spin on my stool and watch Tom make his way back towards the front of the bar. He stopped by a booth that had two girls sitting in it.

They had been hard not to notice when I entered, lots of hair and not much in the way of clothes to cover their assets. They had been sitting across from each other and Tom slid in next to the one whose back was towards me. I was too far away to hear any conversation. It would have been impossible anyway with the loud music blaring out from multiple speakers hanging from the corners of the bar. The dim light inside of the bar would help me to not be too obvious while I kept an eye on them.

Tom had balls, I’ll give him that. All it would have tak-en was for one of Amy’s friends to have spotted him, and she would have known the truth about him so much earlier. He didn’t care about getting caught—that was clear. I shook my head in revulsion at his obvious disrespect. I watched as the girl opposite him got out of the booth and came towards me.

I guessed she was heading to the ladies room. She had the kind of body that most man lusted for, but one of those faces that said, “Don’t cross me.” She was wearing the warning sign fully as she walked by. The bartender mumbled, “Slut” under his S 184 S

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breath. I smiled and replied, “Without a doubt.”

The moment she entered the bathroom Tom and the other

girl began to kiss. My anger rose instantly, and it took everything inside of me not to rush over and confront him. I wanted the baseball bat in my hand. The visions of hitting him on the head with it ran rampant in my mind. I had to control my escalating anger. I reminded myself that it had already happened in my time, and I was here to be Amy’s watchdog. I put my beer glass back down on the bar. I was afraid I might actually break it in my clenched grip. I reached in my pocket and retrieved my phone. It would be useless from this distance and in the darkness of the bar. I would need to get closer if I was going to get incriminating evidence on Tom. With my left hand in my pocket, I turned on the phone. No one heard it chime its welcome tone as it booted up. I left the second glass of untouched beer and the change from my five on the bar. I slid off the bar stool and headed towards the door at the front entrance.