The Time Traveler’s Lament
by
H.D. Timmons
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Published By:
The Time Traveler’s Lament
Copyright © 2011 by H.D. Timmons
Cover Art by H.D. Timmons
or https://www.hdtimmons.com
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Eric Montague saw the sky falling down around him. It came down in sheets as if from loosely assembled plywood construction. The sound was a deafening cacophony of crashing, roaring and cracking; more deafening than any massive bombardment of artillery.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the thundering was mercifully reduced to what sounded like a hundred roulette wheels clicking to a stop. The sky was restored and Eric found himself face down hovering three feet above the ground, poised as if he, and not the sky, had been the thing falling all along; stopped by an unseen force. Reaching his feet to the ground, as naturally as getting off of a bed, Eric touched down on the sidewalk. He was home.
This was not the first time this phenomenon occurred for Eric. Each leap through time brought the same experience, and surprisingly, he bore no ill effects save for the temporary shock to his senses upon returning back to present day.
He didn’t feel that traveling through time was an act of the supernatural, but rather it was as if the anniversary of his wife’s death – the exact day, time and location – and the sense memory of it all triggered the leap just as naturally as how the scents of fresh cut grass and wet laundry on a clothes line conjure childhood recollections. The mind is indeed a powerful thing.
The trips back to that tragic event always happened in the same way. On the anniversary of the accident Eric would visit the same street corner and wait. He would track the approach of the exact hour, minute, second, and with both dread and anxiousness he would close his eyes. It was as if God’s hand moved Eric like a chess piece to that specific moment in time so many years earlier. Eric was young again; not aware that he was reliving the moment, but rather he experienced it as if it were for the first time, yet with a strange sense of prolonged déjà vu.
The day of the accident was surprisingly pleasant for late winter. Eric had stepped out of the watch repair shop and saw his beloved Veronica crossing the street. He waved to her and smiled exuberantly, as newlyweds do when encountering each other unexpectedly. He could see her lunch companions bidding her goodbye as they went their separate ways from the front of the restaurant.
Flexing the band of his repaired watch into place it pinched his wrist as Eric stepped off the curb to greet Veronica. She approached his side of the street and their eyes locked in a lovers’ smiling gaze.
The car that struck Veronica was a non-descript blur in Eric’s periphery. Even after reliving this horrid scene for nearly two decades Eric’s focus always remained on Veronica.
Year after year, Eric watched the seemingly choreographed movement of Veronica’s body. From the initial impact when his wife’s gaze was torn away from him, her auburn hair whipped across her face; to the way her body lurched forcibly to one side and was abruptly thrown to the street in a slowly writhing heap.
Time and time again Eric would rush to his wife, throwing himself to the street in utter anguish; rage and despair intermixed. His heart would pound in his head and then his world would come crashing down around him.
The sound of the falling sky would reduce to a hundred roulette wheels clicking to a stop and Eric would be in the present. He had no control over his leaps through time and he was betwixt and between being thankful for the means to do so and hating it. Eric felt indignation toward the universe – toward God – for allowing him to go back in time but not to change the outcome. He was only allowed to relive having his wife die in his arms year after year; and only upon his return to present day was he granted the realization of that fact. How cruel, but he told himself that he would willingly live through the heartache a hundred times if it were the only way to see his Veronica again.
Over the years Eric remained reticent in his melancholy, never venturing out of the grieving world he created.
On a mild winter’s day Eric made his twentieth pilgrimage, but this time, as he was waiting in front of the watch repair shop, he heard a voice speak to him.
“You’re a little slow.”
“Pardon me?” Eric asked the bulky white-haired man standing in the shop’s opened doorway.
“Your watch. I couldn’t help but notice it’s running a little slow,” the man pointed out. “Step in and I’ll adjust it for you. No charge.”
“Thank you, but I’m waiting for… um…something,” Eric voiced his reluctance and looked up at the sky.
“Aww, there’s plenty of time,” the man said stepping behind the counter.
“I beg your pardon, but how do you know if I have time or not before…?”
“Sorry. It’s an old watch repairman’s joke,” the man said, waving his hands toward the clocks that filled the shop. “As you can see, there’s lots of time,” he grinned. “Now let’s have a look at that time piece of yours and I’ll have it fixed in a jiffy.”
Eric considered the offer then handed over his watch. “Okay, but make it quick.”
“Oh, it’s a fine piece of work,” the man said slipping on his glasses to admire the watch and then read the inscription on its back. “I am yours every second and every minute of every hour. Veronica.”
“My wife gave that to me on our first anniversary.”
“It’s lovely.”
“So was she. I lost her twenty years ago – twenty years ago today, as a matter of fact. She was hit by a car right outside,” Eric began staring out of the storefront window as if in anticipation and then instinctively looked at his bare wrist to check the time. “Is it going to take much longer to fix my watch? I really have to get going.”
The man looked up from making small adjustments to the watch’s mechanism. “Oh, I felt so sorry for that young couple that day. I remember you. I fixed your watch that day – like I’m fixing it now. You keep coming back for her, don’t you?”
“Pardon?” Eric said, his eyes piercing into the man.
“I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you return here every year like clockwork – right outside my shop, standing… waiting… going and then returning again. Don’t you think twenty years is long enough, son?” The old man asked.
Eric was taken aback by the old man’s words. Could he possibly know the truth? Eric wondered. “What do you know about my ‘going and returning,’ as you call it?”
“All I know about any man in your position is that you want your wife back,” the man said as he reassembled Eric’s watch. “Am I right?”
“Well, of course I want her back, but…”
“The question is do you want your wife back so she can continue her life? Or do you want her back just so she can continue to be in yours?”
“I want her alive again, so what does it matter?”
“It matters a great deal. It is a matter of unselfishness and selfishness. Do you want her alive for you or for her?”
Eric struggled to give reason to his emotion. He’d never thought it – only felt it. He missed her; yes, but did that make him selfish?
“All I ever wanted to do was make her life happy and for the past twenty years I have not been able to do that. You didn’t know us, sir. We were deeply in love. We had a profound connection and there was no ‘her life’ or ‘my life’ there was only ‘our life’. Without her I have no life… if I could trade places with her I would!” Eric’s upset tone made it clear that he did not wish to discuss it further. “Now, if you don’t mind, I really must be going.”
“Ah, true love.” The man handed Er
ic back the watch. “There. You’re right on time now.”
Eric said nothing further, but noticed the hour as he placed the watch back on his wrist.
“Beautiful weather for this time of year, don’t you think?” The old man asked as Eric exited the shop.
The weather was indeed unseasonably pleasant for winter Eric observed, flexing the watch band on his wrist, accidentally pinching his skin. He noticed the hour had come and he closed his eyes.
When Eric opened his eyes again he saw Veronica waving to him from across the street and he headed in her direction, bounding from the curb with the spryness of youth, smiling exuberantly. Their gaze was locked, but only for a moment. Everything suddenly became a blur and Eric caught a glimpse of Veronica as she lurched forward, her auburn hair whipping across her face as she ran to her husband.
The force of the vehicle hitting Eric shattered his hip before throwing him several yards where his skull was fractured upon impact with the street; the sound of popping and cracking bone echoing through his brain like artillery fire. He could sense Veronica at his side and he heard her crying, frantically pleading for him not to die; to come back to her.
Suddenly, for Eric, everything went black.
In due course, light began to seep into Eric’s sight once more, but uncomfortably so and brighter than he’d ever remembered. He could discern the presence of a nurse monitoring an IV near him – the clicking of the dosage adjustment switch reminded him of the sound of a small distant roulette wheel, and he could feel a small pinch when the nurse readjusted the tape holding the IV into his wrist.
Great fervor began as Eric showed signed of coming around. Doctors were quickly summoned and a woman clutched Eric’s hand while sobbing with happiness. She kissed his cheek and as she rose he could see that it was Veronica, but she looked different. Her auburn hair was now streaked with grey. Her eyes looked sorrowful and the slight wrinkles on her face belied the youthfulness he knew.
“Darling,” Veronica cried. “You came back to me. I knew you would.” Tears of joy streamed down her face as she hugged and kissed her husband while a doctor calmly explained to Eric the details of his accident and the resulting twenty-year coma. “I’ve missed you so.” Veronica continued. “I came to the hospital every day for the past twenty years to tell you how much I love you – hoping and praying you’d come back to me. I’m nothing without you, my love.”
Eric was weak and spoke not a word, but he felt great joy as his heart became whole again upon being reunited with his true love. Veronica was the one thing that made his life complete and Eric cried thinking of how his wife must have lived the past twenty years of her life longing for him as he recalled a life of longing for her.
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