An Idea Root Without A Flower (Yet)

Trying to push myself to do more creative writing on this blog. I’ve been struggling and did not come with anything. So I rummaged around in my files for things that had started but hadn’t turned into a finish product yet. I’m not sure where the idea for this originated, but I really like it. The problem is where does the story go from here? That’s eluded me so far. But I need something to share, and I do like this. It’s probably the first chapter/section of a longer piece. A novella or a full novel.

It’s probably the longest piece I’ll share on the blog. It is what it is.

But it could be the whole thing here. I’ve mentioned before, I have an affection for open endings. I know they annoy the snot out of some (probably most) people. What appeals to me is the chance for the reader to go where they will, to fill in the blanks. In the end, it’s my story and I’m ready to share it as is.

Let me know what you think.

No Time For This

His wristband chimed, then flashed “15:00”. The countdown, the precious seconds to achieve his goal. A quick look around showed no one showing any interest in him. It also assured him he was where he should be. Meadville at the corner of Waterford Street, facing his favorite bar, the street curving away to his right toward the traffic light. Exactly as he knew it. Jingling the coins in his pocket, it was time to get moving. The nearest payphone was a half block to his left, in front of the borough building. Then two more blocks to the meeting spot. A quick scan showed still no unusual attention. Good.

Crossing the street, Frank Jackson walked along the sidewalk, refusing to allow his memories to distract him. At the phone, he dropped in the coins and dialed the number he’d memorized. It rang three times before he heard the voice at the other end. A voice he never thought he’d hear. For a moment, his throat closed, and his breath wheezed. No time for this, no time for this, no time for this!

“Hello?”

“Hey, kiddo!”

The greeting they knew so well was the first gamble. That familiarity and the sound of his voice to get this over the first hurdle.

“Dad! This is unexpected. Mom usually calls.”

A memory rose like a spirit to an enchantment. That voice, so long ago…

No time for this, no time for this, no time for this!

“Yeah, I got called up this way unexpectedly, and thought I’d stop by to see you. Today’s your light day, right?”

He knew the answer already, but the opening he was trying to thread was tight. Everything had an order, a requirement. It needed to be exact. Otherwise, the variables would spin out of control.

“Yeah, I’m done already. Where are you?”

“I’m finishing something up, but I’m on the other side of campus from you. It’ll take me about five minutes to wrap this up. Where can we meet?”

His breathing stopped. This was the variable, the step they couldn’t guarantee.

“You’re close to the theater then. You know how to get there, right?”

The variable settled right where it needed to be.

“I do. That’ll be great. Five minutes or so?”

“I’ll hop on my bike and be there in three!”

After mutual goodbyes, Jackson hung up. Staring at the phone, he blew into his hands, which has gone cold. A deep breath, and then moving towards campus. This was according to the plan. Establish time and place. It was three short blocks to Normal Street. The plan favored turning here and walking across the sidewalks to the theater. But he’d decided to walk farther along Meadville Street to the arch entrance from the days of the original college. Through it was the theater building, almost as old as the arch. Red brick with canopied stairs leading into the main doors at the base of the tower. This was a special place for them both. It also fit with the plan. That was why it was the choice. He would arrive from the left, so Frank stood facing to the right.

The rear brake squealed, the way it always did.

“Hey!”

He turned to face the younger man. He watched shock and confusion move across that face.

“You’re not my dad.”

No anger, that was good.

“But you look a lot like him,”

The younger man’s face showed he was thinking. Undoubtedly deciding if he would stay or turn and get the hell out of there. That’s what he would have done in the circumstance.

Focused on the next variable, he missed the tone of amusement. He held up a hand.

“Don’t take off. Take a close look at me. Tell me who you see.”

As the sentence finished, a different look flashed across the younger man’s face. Good, he was realizing some of the truth. A wide smile spread appeared. He set the bike down on the grass.

“It’s you. You’re back!”

“I…”, No, that wasn’t right. Damn!

“What did you say?”

Fear and confusion swept over him. This wasn’t…it couldn’t be…this was not in any possibility.

“You visited me twice before. I’d almost forgotten about it. I was just a kid. You said we’d meet one more time.”

“What are you saying to me? No, no!”

It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t possible. As the thought swirled through his mind, the world followed. Total panic swept over him. A knee began to buckle. The blood rushed from his head, making him dizzy, his vision dimming at the edges. This was bad. So very, very bad.

Two steps brought the younger man to his side, reaching to support him as he wavered. Together, he lowered them both to the worn stone steps.

“Jesus, it’s OK, it’s OK. I forgot you don’t know. It hasn’t happened yet.”

This. Was. Wrong.

“It’s OK, I promise,” concern filled his voice.

“You told me that this would throw you. It’s just been so long, I’d forgotten about it all. It’s like a dream from when I was a kid.”

It felt like his heart would pound its way out of his chest. Wrong, wrong, wrong! What the hell had happened? What was happening?

“How do you…you can’t possibly! Oh my god, oh my god, what’s happening? What have I done?”

He’d been stupid. Playing with forces no one understood yet. This was catastrophic. When Frank had put together the plan, he saw a thin chance. Thin, but workable. Two birds, one stone. All he had to do was stay on the razor thin edge of the variables. He thought he was going to be sick, and his body shook.

“Wait, what did you tell me? You told me,” the young man looked into the distance, trying to find a memory. A memory buried in years of experience, till he thought of it as a dream. When he found it, he turned and grabbed the other’s arm. His voice was urgent when he spoke.

“You told me you’d be shocked and scared. You told me about the coins in your pocket, the phones, and walking to the arch.”

Now the panic was on his face. It was clear this was making it worse. He’d never seen someone’s world fall apart before.

“It’s OK. You told me it would be OK. You said your plan was to talk to me about science fiction.”

A deep, shuddering gasp and then a long breath out. The plan was to talk about their shared love of science fiction, to draw upon that world to begin the conversation that needed to take place. A way of referring obliquely to what could not be said directly.

“Then you know…”

“That we can’t talk about it? Yes. I’m not sure I understand why, but ti…” he stopped himself, “…that kind of travel always comes with weird twists, right? But we both understand that. That’s why the science fiction, right?”

He nodded rhythmically, almost mechanically. This couldn’t be, but it was settling into a more familiar track.

“I didn’t understand everything.”

He smiled, “I mean, I was eight years old, right? That was ten years ago. But you made several things clear, things that I was to make sure I told you now.”

Frank’s thoughts raced as he listened to the story. The more he considered it, the less he liked it. None of this made sense, none of this was even possible.

“I don’t understand something. This,” Frank gestured toward the ground, “this is the first time we’ve tried this. It’s an experiment, a test, and one with a limited time span.”

That reminded him to check his wristband. The majority of the allotted time was gone. There were only minutes left.

“You said…,” he was struggling with a concept. Finally, he gave up with a “whatever” shrug, and went on.

“You said you would be confused. That you’d have a thousand questions, that you’d want to figure out what was going on. You told me to say this.”

He paused, then emphasized each word with a push of his hand.

“There is no time.”

Words out of his own head. This kid, for despite all the vigor of youth he saw the immaturity of childhood was not long gone, knew what was inside his mind. There’s was no way for that to be true, except for the impossible. He had to get back, had to figure out what was going on. There was no time, indeed. The clock on his wrist said they were under two minutes now.

“I need to get back, I need to work out…”

“Wait, there are three things I’m to tell you!”

Another glance at his wrist.

“Hurry!”

Now the young man paused, swallowing against the pressure building inside him.

“Ok, first, you said that you won’t be going back to where you think. It’s changed. You said the line has changed. And that you had no one to blame but yourself.”

Eyes closed tight, pain contorted his face and his chin dropped to his chest. A stupid, stupid idea. And he’d known it from the beginning. His voice was soft and angry.

“God dammit.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds terrible.”

He shook off the feeling. Less than a minute now.

“I was right. My own damn fault. Hurry, my time is almost done.”

“Second, you said, ‘You cannot see her.’ Does that make sense?”

He looked away. The pain, the longing was too much for him in that minute. Too much had happened too fast. It had been a hope for a glimpse, but there was no time left. He had changed the plan for that infinitesimal hope. They had met and fallen in love here. The him here would hold her, the him before him. The him that he envied. To envy yourself, how strange. The wrist band buzzed a warning of ten seconds.

“Never mind. What was the last thing? Quickly!”

“He said to say this last, but it was the most important thing. He said…”

The peculiarity of the conversation caught the younger version of himself,

“You said, we said, whoever it was, said to tell you just before you left…”

Five, four, three…

“There is no time! What did I say?”

“Don’t trust Douglas. Whatever you do, don’t…”

The chime at his wrist.

There was no more time.

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