The Fateful Time
By
Stephanie Flynn
Copyright 2014 Stephanie Flynn
License Notes
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Discover other titles by Stephanie Flynn:
Short Stories:
The Final Stand (Intergalactic Pandemonium Part 1)
Targeting Error (Intergalactic Pandemonium Part 2)
Avenger Arrives (Intergalactic Pandemonium Part 3)
Revenge and Chaos (Intergalactic Pandemonium Part 4)
Cyborg Program (Intergalactic Pandemonium Part 5)
Slave Job
The Intern
The Fateful Time
At the End of the Universe
Nessie
Summer Night’s Breeze
Novels:
Taming the Iris
Poetry:
Can’t Always Win
No Apologies
Table of Contents
Beginning of The Fateful Time
Personal Message from Stephanie Flynn
About Stephanie Flynn
Connect with the Author
The Fateful Time
You left me twice. I couldn’t forgive you the first time, but the second...
The second nearly killed me.
I still don’t understand what you saw in her. She was far too young and her skirt was so short. But after the fights and your subsequent apologies that I could not accept, we had a meeting with the lawyers where my world ended. What I never told you was I regretted that decision. Every day. I lost my best friend, my love, over a silly skirt.
With a strained friendship “for the kids,” I looked into your eyes with a yearning. I wanted to scream the truth, but a smile smothered it. After a while, hidden behind a dazzling smile and sparkling blue eyes, I started to see your pain. Your smile betrayed your truth. I wanted nothing more than to console you and rekindle our lost flame. But I didn’t have the strength to apologize. To open myself up to rejection and pain again.
The last time I ever saw your face, I felt your renewed happiness as you crossed my doorway. She was long gone, permanently. I basked in it. That final, fateful day, the words were at the tip of my tongue. The time was right: we chopped onions for dinner and as our favorite song played on the radio, we sang along, together. I opened my mouth to spill the apology, but the phone rang. If he didn’t call at that moment, how things could have been different!
You disappeared seconds later light-footed and in high spirits into the orange fading sun, promising to return with eggs. Watching you go while swallowing those words caused my eyes to water. Or maybe it was the onions. I think it was both. I am still angry I didn’t just spit them out. You’d still be with me if I had.
An hour later, that fateful knock on my door caused my veins to contract. Something in my soul knew it strange you hadn’t yet returned from the joyride with your friend. Why did he have to test out his new boost controller today?
Standing at my doorway, with cap in hand, stood a sorrowful man in uniform. My knees buckled as the officer uttered his sincerest apologies. Kneeling at his feet, shaking, I choked on the words I didn’t have the strength to spit out. Why did you have to leave me again? I never told you I regretted our meeting with the lawyers and now I will never get the chance.
#
The crowd slowly cleared out. The sea of empty chairs and flower arrangements casted the appropriate sadness. I didn’t use a single tissue for the whole ceremony. My brain was numb. As the murmurs dissolved, leaving behind a silent room, I finally found my legs to walk toward the long shiny box. I couldn’t imagine what you’d look like and a part of me was afraid to taint the last image I have of your healthy smiling face. But I must continue, I must complete this weighty task, I chanted. For me and for you. I approached the casket and peak inside. Your stillness was upsetting, your makeup a little off, but I breathed a sigh of relief. I was grateful for this final viewing to see you at peace.
I searched for my voice and swallowed back fresh tears. I thought I had none left. I placed my hands gently on the edge of the casket and I began slowly.
“I offer my apology now,” my voice cracked. I cleared my throat and forced the words out, “What we had wasn’t perfect, but it was worth keeping. I am so deeply, regretfully sorry for all the pain, and I will always love you.”
I turned away, quickly cleaning up my mess of a face, and walked straight for the only place I found comfort: Yesteryear’s Antiques. The little bell chimed as I walked through the glass door and the cedar aroma blanketed my tender red nose.
“Good afternoon, Cherie!” The portly store owner enthusiastically waved to me from his register. I walked over to him.
“Anything new today, Frank? I could use a little pick-me-up.”
Frank the store owner eyed me carefully and the lines around his eyes softened. “You’re in luck. The DeKeyser estate just rolled in. Have at her.” He waved to the corner on his left, then thrummed the counter and cleared his throat. “Um, I uh, I heard about...” He trailed off, looking down at his hands, “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you, Frank.”
I turned to the indicated corner and browsed for a while. Beautiful pieces of glass and mahogany adorned the floor, pieces someone loved, while lamps sparkled under the fluorescent lights. I upturned one, Tiffany, and gently placed it down. A shiny ivory square flickered from the corner of my eye. I searched and found a small jewelry box. I placed it in the palm of my hand and it seemed big enough for only a single pair of earrings. The curious trinket had four claw feet like an antique bathtub. I flipped it over to search for a price and there wasn’t one. Bringing it over to Frank, I asked, “How much for this?”
He rubbed his chin while eyeing it from my fingers. “Peculiar. I don’t remember that.” He shrugged. “Twelve bucks.”
“Deal,” I said and pulled out the worn bills, handing them over quickly. “Later Frank.”
“Take care, dear.”
I took the trinket back to my house and open it. Inside there was a solitary bright red button with a wear pattern in the center and on the hinged lid a single unmarked dial. I only then noticed how quiet the house was. The refrigerator wasn’t humming, my old cuckoo clock was silent. I looked at the hand-carved wooden hands and they were still. An eerie tingle crawled along my arms. What was this little trinket?
My curiosity overpowered me. I turned the small dial and immediately my world was washed white. My home was gone, my antique collection, my photos of the kids, everything. I saw white—white floors, white walls, and an endless white ceiling. Large block numbers swirled across the white wall as I turned the dial, almost like a countdown. I turned the dial a few more clicks and the digits reversed further. I realized the digits were the time and date. Could this be real? This insignificant-looking trinket had the power to control time? I turned the dial more, knowing exactly when I wanted to return to.
As the numbers on the white wall stopped at the precise time, I closed the box. My kitchen reappeared around me as if nothing were touched, but now I smelled dinner. The clock was ticking, the refrigerator humming, and now water was rumbling in a pot on the stove. I turned to my side and there you were. You’re here! Alive! I could barely contain my excitement over a second chance when I noticed you staring at me with a vacant expression, stillness holding your body firm.
“What just happened?” you asked.
A flutter in your voice worried me.
“What do you mean?
” I slipped the trinket into my pocket.
“Your apron disappeared and your spatula. You stopped singing. Not like you chose to but almost like you—glitched.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I dismissively waved my hand and realized my opportunity. I spun around to the phone on the wall and pull the line. Then I turned back to the counter and slipped my hand in your back pocket. No cell phone either. I pulled it out, turned it off, and tossed it across the kitchen and onto the living room couch. It bounced once and fell gently to the floor. No cruising with your friend now. I brushed my hands together and smiled. There, I thought, everything’s different. You don’t die today, you don’t leave in five minutes, and I get my chance to rekindle our flame.
“So,” I started in, a little too happy, a little too casually, “I’ve been meaning to—”
A quick bang outside startled us both.
“What was that?” you asked and cautiously walked to the living room window.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. You know, David, I’ve been meaning—”
But I was too late.
You opened the window to investigate the noise outside and a sudden thump caused your legs to give out. I watched in horror as you plummeted to the carpeting.
I raced over to you, and saw a crimson puddle rapidly forming under a small caliber hole in your chest. Why? Was your death meant to be? This cannot happen!
“David! Oh, David!” My face falls into a panic. I tried to stop the bleeding, now pouring out on top and underneath. Sputters came