The Pace

by Shelena Shorts

  “No, I can’t,” I told him. “I want some answers.” I pushed my way past him into his house. He followed me into his living room until we were both standing in front of the large window. This is what I’d been waiting for since the night he’d left me in my room. I had wanted an explanation so badly for so long, and here was my chance. Now, all I had to do was figure out how not to let it go all wrong.

  For several moments, I just looked at him, and he looked at me. He was so beautiful. Looking at him, I felt every single moment we had ever shared come back to me. The laughing and talking, just the talking for hours, was something I’d missed. I wanted it so bad, and the rush of the emotions coming back to me made my shoulders feel heavy.

  “Tell me what you want,” he demanded, sharply enough for me to pull myself out of the recollections. His tone made it clear that he was agitated. I tried to reassure him that I meant no ill will towards him.

  “Look, I know it’s not in your nature to feel cornered or attached, but I need some answers anyway.”

  He looked at me, confused. “My nature? What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing, I just read some things.”

  “Wait a minute, what did you read?”

  I thought it was my turn to ask questions and somehow he had flipped the script.

  “Just forget it.”

  He was curious now. “No, tell me. What did you read?”

  I wished I hadn’t said anything. I sifted through the best possible responses before settling on a mediocre one. “I just read a book on the behavior of cold-blooded creatures is all.” I tried to dismiss it. It did sound stupid. He started laughing, which made me angry. “What’s so funny?” I growled.

  “You think I’m acting this way because I’m a cold-blooded creature?”

  I stood there without commenting. He shook his head in disbelief. “Sophie, you are way off-base.”

  “Well then, tell me why,” I demanded.

  He let out a deep sigh and looked at me. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Maybe I don’t, but I do deserve some answers.”

  “Fine.” He stood there, motionless, and I took it as an opportunity to get what I needed.

  “Why won’t you talk to me anymore?” I asked.

  “Because I’m trying to stay away from you,” he said, more easily than I appreciated.

  “Why?”

  “To change the future,” he said, flatly.

  “How is staying away from me changing the future?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered quickly.

  “Then why are you doing it?”

  “I don’t know,” he gritted through his teeth.

  I felt like I was grasping at straws, and I didn’t have enough experience in this matter to pick the right one. I wanted real answers. I needed a question that required him to give me a real explanation. I thought of one quickly, because I was running out of room on this one-way street. “Okay, why are you so distant and mean one minute, and the next, you’re popping up out of nowhere?”

  He thought about that for a few moments and answered, “I want to stay away from you, so that’s why I’m distant. And if you took better care of yourself, then I wouldn’t need to keep popping up.”

  I was fuming. “Well, don’t do me any favors,” I said, taking a step around him. He was back in my path in an instant.

  He gently grabbed my arm. “Sophie, please don’t leave like this. Calm down first.”

  “Calm down? Two weeks ago you were telling me you loved me and then you went AWOL, and you want me to calm down?”

  He was frustrated now. “What do you want from me?” he asked, glaring into my eyes.

  “I want you!” I shouted. I was shocked at how easily I’d blurted that out. “But . . . you know that already, and it doesn’t matter.” I hung my head for a moment.

  “It does matter to me,” he said softly.

  “Well, I can’t tell it! You’re doing a pretty good job of making me feel like crap.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, realizing the truth in it.

  “I don’t want apologies, I just want an explanation.”

  He turned away from me. “Why is this happening to me again?” He seemed to be talking to himself, but I took it upon myself to chime in.

  “You keep saying again. What do I keep doing?”

  He turned back around. “You keep finding me. And I don’t know how or why.”

  “You’re the one who showed me where you live,” I reminded him.

  “That’s not what I mean. You know where I live now, but how did you know what states, what towns?”

  “Listen, you’re not making any sense. I didn’t know what town you were in until I saw you that day.” I was truly confused now, but I tried my best to keep up with him.

  “No,” he said. “You just appear in my life over and over and over and on one hand I’m so happy to know you, to see you. I feel so alive, so strong when you’re near me. I feel like I can do anything I want when I have you with me, but then there is that other part. There is that day where I know you will leave again.”

  “Why do you keep saying again over and over?”

  He tilted his head up toward the ceiling, and he let out a deep breath. Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned toward me.

  “Please, just tell me the truth. What is going on with you?”

  “You want an explanation for what is going on? Fine, I’ll give it to you. I have loved you already, in two lifetimes. Two lifetimes cut way too short, because you died in both of them. And I can’t stop thinking about it happening again.”

  I wasn’t sure how to react to that, so I looked at him for a few seconds and asked, “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay um, so, give me just a minute here. I need a moment.” I sat down on the couch and stared at my feet. He took a step toward me like he wanted to help me, but he decided against it. Instead, he just watched me closely, waiting for a response.

  I was finally getting the chance to stare him in the eyes and get the answers I wanted, and I was staring at my feet. I knew I looked like an idiot, but I didn’t care. I wanted to get this right, so I needed a minute to think, and I used every second of that minute. I didn’t want to lie to him and act as if I believed this, but I didn’t want to insult him either. I wanted to choose my words very carefully. “Okay…what makes you think this?” I asked. He looked at me and sat beside me on the couch. Now, he was the one staring at the ground.

  “Sophie,” he said, “I’ve been around for a long time, and there are a lot of things that I don’t know, but what I do know is that I’ve been with you before, and each time you go away.”

  “I haven’t gone anywhere. I’ve always been right here. You’ve been the one not wanting me. I am—”

  “You don’t understand, Sophie,” he said. “What I’m telling you is that I have loved you three separate times. Once in 1916, then again in 1963, and now…so that makes three.”

  I looked in his eyes and then back at my shoes again. My right foot started to tap in a constant rhythm while I was trying to go over what he was saying.

  There must have been someone I reminded him of, someone he’d loved in 1916. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I had no idea that you loved someone so much from your past. It was selfish of me not to realize—”

  “Aren’t you listening?” He sighed. “I didn’t love someone from my past. I loved you. You were the one I loved then. I do not expect you to understand or believe me, which is why I’ve never tried to explain it to you, but I can only assure you that for whatever reason, and by whatever power, you lived then and you live now. You.” I could tell he was concentrating very hard to stay focused. “What I don’t understand,” he added, “is how to change the outcome. I can’t get away from this….” He quieted, searching for his words. “Hell,” he finished.

  Now the tear I was holding back finally escaped with one blink. He reached over with his hand and gently wiped it away.
“Why are you crying?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “I think it makes me sad to hear you describe being with me as hell for you.”

  “No, Sophie. That’s not what I meant at all. It’s not being with you that is my hell. It’s losing you that is, and I don’t want to go through it again.”

  “You’re not going to lose me,” I said. He didn’t seem convinced, but he was more at ease. There was still that sense of hesitation and apprehension between us, but I felt my heart swelling again, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. I needed more information.

  “So how do you know it’s me? How do you know I’m the one you knew?” I asked gently.

  He paused. “Well, you are different, but you’re also the same,” he said. “When you ran into me that day, I had this feeling inside of me that bolted to life when I saw you. You look strikingly similar. I suspected it was you. Then I saw your necklace, and—”

  “My necklace?”

  “Yes, how many people do you know who wear Axinite crystal jewelry? It’s a very rare choice, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know that.” I looked down at my necklace. “I found this in a consignment shop, and I liked it.”

  “I know you like them. You used to collect Axinite jewelry.”

  “I did?” I asked, sounding surprised, but a little convinced.

  “Yes, you did, and it is no coincidence that you picked that one.”

  “So you had a feeling and then you saw my necklace, and that’s how you knew it was me?” I recapped.

  “Well, I was pretty sure, but to be certain, I waited for you to show up again on campus. That’s when I asked you all those questions about yourself, and then I knew for sure. I have very good senses.” He paused for a moment to gather his words. “I can sense when people are happy, angry, afraid, and I can tell people apart with my eyes closed. I would remember you anywhere.”

  “So why did you start dating me and then change your mind? What did I do?”

  “You didn’t do anything,” he said. “I was just too selfish to walk away from you. The closer we got, the stronger the memories got. When I almost lost control on New Year’s, I realized how precious the time was with you. Then, I couldn’t shake the images of losing you again, and I figured it would be best for both of us to try to break the cycle.”

  “And by the cycle, you mean I—”

  “You die,” he answered absently.

  My eyes widened at the jolt I felt in hearing the last word.

  “When?”

  “You died when you were nineteen. Both times.” All of a sudden, a cold chill went up my spine, and I shuddered.

  “I never grow old?” I started to feel mournful about never getting married or having kids. What would be the point of falling for Wes if it was for nothing?

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to have to tell you.”

  “It’s okay. I wanted to know.” As soon as I said it, I wasn’t sure if I meant it. I think I did. I did want to know what he was thinking. I had no idea any of this was going on in his head. It was all so bizarre.

  I thought there was no way it could be true. I’m Sophie. I’m eighteen, and I’ve just met this boy this year. Well actually, he was not a boy. He is practically immortal. That was all so true, and I knew it. So if that was all true, then maybe, just maybe he was right when he said I’d lived before. I must have shaken my head a little at my thoughts, because he squeezed me tight and asked me what I was thinking.

  I told him I was wondering if what he’d said about me was true. I turned to look at him, trying to gauge his response, and his dark eyes looked deep into mine. It felt as though his mind was writhing in defeat. He touched his forehead to mine and murmured, “I wish it wasn’t.”

  “Is that really why you’ve been acting so erratic and irrational?” I asked.

  “I was not being erratic and irrational.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, you were being erratic by being with me one second, dating other people the next, and then following me around the next.”

  “Is that what this is about?” he asked.

  Ignoring his question, I continued. “I want to know how you can say you were so scared of losing me while you were taking walks with Blondie.”

  He shook off the accusation. “I was just trying to make you think I was over you. It wasn’t real.”

  “Right.”

  “It wasn’t. I’m telling you. There was no interest in that girl whatsoever. I just borrowed her.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Borrowed her? What is she, a car?”

  “No, she has a boyfriend. I’m study partners with both of them. I asked her one day if she would walk with me, so I could show someone I wasn’t interested.”

  “That’s great. Well, it did more than that. It hurt my feelings.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought that was the only way to make you think I’d moved on. I thought if you stayed away from me, you might have a chance at a different life and maybe a different outcome.”

  “So then why follow me places?”

  “To make sure you were all right.”

  “Well, that’s erratic,” I pointed out.

  “Fair enough,” he said. “But what about irrational? You called me irrational, too.”

  “You’re irrational because you think I’d be better off without you,” I said flatly.

  “Well, you’re more irrational than I am by far,” he countered.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Well, you know I’m not normal, to say the least, and I’ve just told you that you died twice already, and you’re still sitting here. I say you are.”

  “Fair enough,” I said, thinking he might be right.

  “What are you thinking anyway?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what to think. I’m just happy that you’re talking to me again. I’ll pinch myself later and decide if any of this is real. Why does all this worry you now anyway? I’m only eighteen,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Because I don’t know how to save you.”

  That took the light out of the mood. “Well, that makes two of us, because I don’t know how to save myself either. It’s a good thing we don’t have to think about it for another year,” I added.

  “You don’t have to pretend here.”

  “I’m not pretending. If what you’re saying is true, we’ll figure something out together.”

  He sat there without moving away from me, and I took that as a good sign. He offered to take me home that evening, and there was no way I was about to let him out of my sight after that revelation, so I quickly accepted. “What about your car?” he countered.

  “Maybe you can pick me up tomorrow and we can hang out. I can get it then.” I tried to sound hopeful.

  He considered the idea and wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we walked to his car. I took that as a yes.

  I had some time to think in the car while he was driving. There were certain things I needed to know in order for any of Wes’ explanation to make sense. One, what was the cause of this? Was it some sort of reincarnation? Two, if it was a reincarnation, how did it work? Three, why did I keep dying? And four, how come I couldn’t remember any of it?

  The more I thought about this, the more I started to feel confident that this was not such a bad thing. I mean, I know Wes just told me I wouldn’t live to see twenty. That was frightening, but I was trying to look at this like the glass was half full. If he knew all of this, then that meant we had been together. He must have loved me, and I must love him for us to keep finding each other. If that was true, then it seemed we were given more than one chance to be together. How many people could say they had more than one chance at first love? And not just their first love, but their only love.

  If I could only make him see that he didn’t have to look at this so negatively. There was nothing to fear. We could change this, and if we couldn’t, I was going to c
ome back if history repeated itself. Right? All I had to do was make him see this. It sounded good to me. Then again, I wasn’t the one living through my death over and over. I wasn’t sure if it was fair to ask him to just deal with whatever was to come, only to have to wait however many years for me to find him again. If I even found him at all. Maybe he was right. Maybe it would be better if I left him alone. He could experience a love that could last longer than what I had to give. I could release him from this hell, as he described it. I had no idea what I wanted. On one hand, I wanted to be with him more than anything, and on the other, I didn’t want to be the cause of his hell on earth. These were my two options, and I would have to decide.

  We pulled up to my house around 8:00. My mom’s car was in the driveway, so I needed to come back to reality. She would ask me all the normal questions: How was your day? Where have you been? Do you have any homework? I wasn’t sure I was up to putting on the façade, as if I’d had a normal day. Wes had just informed me that I was some sort of walking ghost. Yeah, Mom, I’m great!

  Wes opened my car door and walked me to my front steps. I invited him in, but he declined. “I need to take care of something,” he said. I let out a small, involuntary sigh of disappointment, and he stroked my cheek. “I’ll come back later, and we can talk about whatever you want.”

  I nodded.

  As I turned, I heard him say, “I love you.”

  I looked back at him, wanting to return the sentiment, but hesitated. He tilted his head forward and said, “I don’t know what to do about it, but I can’t deny it.”

  All I could say in return was, “I love you, too.”

  “I know,” he said, with a half smile. “I’ll see you later.”

  I watched him get into his car and drive off. All of a sudden, my swelling heart went idle. I took a deep breath, turned around, and put the key in the door.

  I wasn’t in the doorway two seconds before my mom asked me who I had been talking to. She was in the kitchen cleaning the dishes, but she took a break to peek around the doorway so she could see me. I hung my jacket on the coat rack, trying to prolong the silence as long as I could.