Unhappenings (58 page)

“Mmmmm,” said Helen, not quite awake. “Paris.”

That answer threw me for a bit of a loop, until I remembered that she still attached fond memories to her time in France, and did not share my association of that country with the horror the world had, hopefully, averted.

“Okay,” I said without offering an alternative. “
When
do you want to take our honeymoon?”

“Affer the wedding,” she said to her pillow. “Soopid.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I let that hang in the air for as long as it took to sink in, which was at least a quarter of a minute. Then she rolled over, with a smile of delight.

“Why, Mister Doctor Walden, are you offering to take me through time?”

“Yes I am, Missus Doctor Walden.”

“Missus Doctor
Clay
, thank you very much.” She sat up. “I thought you didn’t want me to do that.”

Apparently we had some version of that conversation in this timeline, and it hadn’t ended quite as badly. I shrugged.

“I don’t. But you do,” I guessed. “And it is your day.”

“Hmm,” she said. “I’ll have to think on it. We kind of talked this through already. Is there a reason you’re bringing this up again?”

Yes, I thought. I wanted an escape plan for if things got bad again. I wanted to take Helen up on her offer—an offer she now would not remember—of a life a thousand years in the past, away from the threats posed to us here.

“Not particularly. I just wanted to give you another chance. It shouldn’t be entirely up to me.”

“That’s for damn sure. But you made some pretty good points last time. Besides…”

I waited. “Yes?”

She hesitated. “I know you find those unhappenings annoying, but I think they’re really cute. It’s like a game for me to figure out where our lives are the same.” She pouted. “Are you mad?”

I laughed. If my unhappenings were merely annoying, all of this concern might be for nothing. On the other hand, it might not. “Of course not. How long have we known each other?”

“I know that one! Stingrays! See? We won’t have that anymore if I become a traveler, right? I’d be like you.”

“You would,” I said. “Well, think about it. If you come up with a really great idea for time you want to see, let’s talk it out again.”

“Okay,” she said, and flopped back down on her pillow.

And while she sleepily contemplated times she wanted to visit, I started contemplating times where we could live.

discovered early on this revised Helen was well aware of Athena’s existence, and the fact she was our daughter. Beyond that, she didn’t volunteer much in casual conversation, and I knew better than to ask too many questions. I learned everything I needed to know in March of 2149, when Athena came to visit.

“Oh my God!” said Helen when Athena flashed into our kitchen. She ran and hugged her daughter, no evidence of fear in the embrace. It made me happier to see than anything I can remember. “Look at you! How old are you now?”

“Forty-two, Mom.”

“She’s forty-two and she calls me Mom,” said Helen, beaming. “I love that. Should I love that?”

“You can love that,” I said.

“You’re not taking him anywhere,” said Helen. “Tell me you’re not taking him anywhere. Because I won’t stand for it.”

Athena smiled. I had forgotten how beautiful her smile was.

“I’m not taking him anywhere.”

“Good! How long are you staying?”

“As long as you’ll have me,” said Athena. “I’m on a break right now.” She kissed Helen on the cheek. “Can Dad and I talk shop for a bit? I promise we’ll stay in the house.”

“You have to promise you’ll stay on this date.”

Athena laughed. “Done.” She gestured to the basement stairs.

Helen whispered to me, “Ask her the thing.” Then she shoved me toward my daughter, and went down the hall, no doubt to tidy up the guest room.

“It’s been a while since I saw you turn her into that person,” I said. “God, I missed that.”

“Me too,” said Athena. “What’s the thing?”

“Ugh. Um… I have no idea how to even broach this, so I’m just going to say it. She wants you to be her maid of honor. I told her I had no idea if that was appropriate, or weird, or cosmically impossible, or whatever, but I said I’d ask.”

“Ooooh,” said Athena, looking uncomfortable.

“Yeah. It’s okay. I’ll tell her you really wanted—”

“Of course I will,” she said.

“Oh,” I said. “Really? Wow. That’s great! I just… You looked a little weirded out there.”

“No,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. Tell her I’ll do it. Actually don’t. I want to tell her.” My daughter, nearly ten years my senior, had a girlishly innocent look to her at that moment. I would never see it again.

“Some things have unhappened,” I said. “Little stuff. Cat stuff, wedding stuff. Is that normal?”

“Normal is probably the wrong word,” she said. “But I have no idea if it’s a problem. That’s what I wanted to tell you as well. You know I haven’t seen you for more than five years.”

“It’s only been a few months for me.”

“I know. I didn’t want to make you wait too long to see me again. I was told to stay away from you. And I did. For five years. But you don’t have to put up with that.”

“Did you get in trouble?” I reflected on how most fathers would ask most daughters that question, and the vastly different contexts under which they would. My daughter assassinated a future dictator in cold blood as a young man, without a kill order. Most fathers my age might have to contend with a hair-pulling incident at school.

“No,” she said. “I got a commendation. And a restraining order. Which I honored for five years before resigning.”

“You quit?” I said. “Can you even do that?”

“Apparently. I guess they could have tried to stop me, but I don’t see how.”

“Why?” I asked, sitting down. This was my guardian angel, and she was now off the clock for good. I wanted to care more about her welfare than mine, but the ramifications were still daunting.

“Because they want to pretend this is all over. I killed the bad guy. Ding dong, the asshole is dead. But it’s not over. Things are still unhappening. And it’s not me doing it, and it’s not you, so there is some version of him still out there.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “Pathetic Old Me said there was another traveler. A pilot who disappeared. Maybe it’s him. The things that unhappen to you, are they big deals?”

“No,” she said.

“Me either. So maybe they aren’t attacks. Maybe they are just side effects of a neutral traveler.”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “But they won’t even talk about it. They are tracking the unhappenings. They know it’s real, and they’re claiming it’s just a series of aftershocks.”

“They can track them?” This was news.

“Yeah. The unhappening detector was the only good thing that ever came out of your standing wave research.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “Sorry, by the way.”

My heart sank.

“No, it’s okay. I always knew that was a long shot.”

“We need to get back upstairs,” she said. “I need to tell Mom I’ll be her maid of honor.”

Athena stayed for two days. She and Helen bonded over the wedding, although more than once she suggested that we push the date back to the following spring. The sight of them happy made me push aside any thoughts of threats on the horizon. My rogue traveler theory felt sound. I even liked the aftershock possibility, despite Athena’s dismissal.

Finally, on the third day, Athena abruptly announced she had to leave. There was no crisis, and no fear in her voice, but she was insistent in a way I found curious.

When she flashed out, Helen said, “That was odd.” After a pause, she asked, “When is that girl’s birthday?”

“No idea,” I said. “I guessed 2150 once, and she said that was close enough.”

“She wants me to push the wedding back,” said Helen. We both let that hang in the air for a bit.

“You don’t think…” I began.

Helen grabbed me by the collar and kissed me. “What I think is that you and I have work to do, mister.”

he next morning, I woke up in an alley, on a pile of loose trash, covered in a worn coat and a hat with earflaps. My neck felt scratchy, and I confirmed by touch the presence of a very full beard.

“Find Helen” I whispered.

I heard a vague whisper in my head in response. It wasn’t quite words, but it carried an idea, approximately equivalent to “unable to comply.” It responded similarly to requests of a jump back by one year, and a jump forward of five minutes. I was stranded in some unsavory revised timeline, without a functioning time machine. Not good.