by Abra Ebner
The page was dated May 21, 2009 at 9:34 p.m. I skimmed over the entry, my mind remembering every moment we had shared when I had found him lost on the bus that first time, as though it was happening all over again. I felt the scars return to my face and I could feel the way the nylon nurse uniform cut into my skin. “You, this was you. But how? It says this happened last month, but…”
“But it didn’t, I know.” He would not look at me, as though he were ashamed of that fact.
“Why?” My voice was curt and a bit crazed at this point.
“I changed it.”
“Changed it?” I looked back at the page, reading the end where he explained his plan to save me from the horrible life I seemed to lead. “I don’t understand. You can’t change it.”
“But I can, Kenzie. And I did.” He paused. “I’m not proud of it, I can see now that I was selfish to do so, even if I thought it was selfless at the time. Your life was yours to lead, I should have never…”
“But, Jordan, that’s not possible.” My blood felt hot now, my stomach still churning.
“There’s something wrong with me, Kenzie.” His eyes met mine and I could feel every ounce of truth as he said it. “I can travel through time, or rather, I could and…”
“But that’s absurd. Crazy,” I refused to listen as I began to feel as though the word absurd had become a friend of mine. “How do I know you’re not lying?” I began to crumple the page in my hands as I clenched my fist, but Jordan took it back from me.
“It’s something I’ve inherited…”
“Inherited?” I interrupted.
He continued. “Yes. I assure you, I wish I was lying,” he flipped back through the book and handed me another page, the one I had been looking for before.
The entry was dated April 3, 1963. I took it with a gentle hand, watching the page shake as I brought it to my face. I began to read, swallowing though my throat was dry.
April 3, 1963
Something happened today that is hard to explain. I always thought my life was sealed in a horrible fate of sadness, but it seems I found a way to change my luck. I was in the closet of my mother’s house, hiding from my drunk and abusive father, rocking back and forth and trying to think of a happier time. I thought about that day in class a few weeks ago, when the gerbil and I got to sit in the corner and play games while the rest of the class cleaned their desks. I had done exceptionally well on the spelling bee so I won the opportunity. As I sat in the closet, I felt something funny begin to happen as the thought began to feel real, and before I knew it, that gerbil was in my hand and I was back in class.
At first I was frightened by what had happened, and the teacher sent me to the nurse. For the past few weeks, I relived the exact same life I already had and that dream I’d manifested in the closet never ended. It may seem strange, but I think that day I traveled through time.
Today, I will try to change why my father was coming after me in the first place. If this works, I think I may have discovered something amazing.
The entry ended, and with wide eyes, I looked back up at Jordan. “How old was she?”
He took the page from my hand. “I believe she was twelve.”
“How old were…” I paused. “How old were you the first time?”
Jordan looked me in the eye. “Six. I was six that day I came and you found me on the bus.”
“Six? You were that young?” I racked my brain, finding it made sense now, knowing that he was barely out of pre-school at the time. “But you traveled forward, she traveled back.”
Jordan nodded. “Yes, it doesn’t matter, as long as we can imagine ourselves at that age, it just sort of happens.”
I cleared my throat, finding the nausea was returning. “And you would also assume the age you were, in either the future or past? In other words, you can’t leap and stay twenty-seven so to speak?”
He shook his head. “There’s no exact science. I’ve never really met someone like me,” he paused. “Or rather, I’ve never gotten the opportunity to exchange stories.”
I figured he was referring to his mother. “What does it feel like?”
He laughed with a hint of sarcasm. “Like sticking your body in the microwave on high.”
An image of popcorn came to my head, but I shook it away. “That doesn’t sound healthy.”
His eyes became wide. “No, apparently it’s not. That’s why I’ve been here with you all this time. I’m stuck here.”
I lifted one brow. “Stuck here?” There was a hint of anger to my voice, heightened by the fact that I was carrying this man’s child.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He reached out and touched my hand, and I let him, too exhausted to care. “What I meant was that I can’t Shift anymore, or rather it’s been a while. The last time I nearly killed myself.”
I tilted my head, thinking back. “When was the last time you did? Was it when Max came and tried to kill Amy?”
He shook his head. “No, it was the night at the rugby house.”
I thought back to that night, a memory I had long suppressed. “You changed that? What would have happened?”
He looked at me from under his brows. “I believe you already know what would have happened. I’m sure you dream about it. I figure you’d repressed it, though. I wouldn’t blame you.” His eyes became glossy as he said it, as though the anger was still there. “I tried to change it many times, but it always turned out bad. The only solution was to let you know who I was so that you would remain with me and not run off to see Max.”
I took a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”
He brought his other hand up and placed in on mine, cupping my hand in both of his. “You have to try and believe me.” He let go to stand and grab the hem of his shirt. “See, you remember this don’t you?”
He pulled the hem up and I saw the remnants of the large bruise he had endured that night at the rugby house. “Sure, I remember.”
He ran his hand across it. “This was not from a fight. This was because my kidney was beginning to fail. See, my mother died from a cancer that she gave to herself by Shifting carelessly through time. I don’t really blame her. She did live through the sixties, seventies and eighties.”
I felt my nerves give up and I could no longer handle trying to understand any of this today. “I need to go lie down,” I said plainly.
He had a concerned look on his face as he offered me his hand. “Are you alright?”
I glared at him. “Yeah, sure. I just found out my whole life is a lie, and I’m carrying your baby that may or may not have the same traits you do. Things are great.”
He tilted his head as he grabbed my arm. “No, I mean are you okay. You look pale.”
I snorted. “Well I just threw up and my heart is racing, so of course I’d look pale.”
He picked me up against my will. “If you say so.”
I sighed. “I’d fight back but, I don’t feel like it.” It was almost painful to talk now, and I began to worry.
He laughed. “Maybe later, then.” We walked toward the stairs. “I really am sorry I never told you Kenzie.”
“Jordan.” I changed the subject fast. “Maybe I’m not okay.”
He looked at me with a sudden fear lacing his face. “What do you mean?”
“I…” I felt my head whirl as though he was twisting me in the air. “I don’t know, my stomach just...”
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned back down the stairs, out the door, and took me to the car. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
I coughed then, but this time it was laced with blood and my body erupted into a cold sweat. “Jordan, what’s happening?”
He got in the car, mumbling something under his breath, and it was then that I noticed the blood on his shirt.
“Jordan, look!” I pointed as he looked at himself, and then at my jeans.
There was blood all over the passenger seat of the car now, and it was then that everythin
g seemed to fade and I felt my body give. Though I tried to hold on I could no longer handle the rush of pain that was suddenly crippling me. In my heart, I knew the baby was already gone.
Story by Dr. Ashcroft,
Vincent Memorial Hospital, Boston
August 3, 2009
8:38 a.m.
I woke suddenly as a hand squeezed mine.
“Kenzie?” Jordan’s voice sounded weak.
“Jordan, is that you?” I looked toward the voice, finding his face. A sense of relief fell over me as it always did when I saw him, and it was then I realized I did not care what he said or did. I still needed him.
His face was tired and drawn. “Kenzie, I’m so sorry. This is my fault.”
“Is it gone?” It was the only thing I could think about, the only thing that mattered. My baby was gone. I knew it, though I desperately hoped he would tell me otherwise.
He nodded. “They believe so…” he trailed off.
“You saw, didn’t you?” I motioned for him to look at me, and as he did, I saw the truth.
“It was horrible, Kenzie. I never wanted to put you through all this.”
I didn’t like the tone of his voice. “Jordan, you can’t change this. This is how it was supposed to happen. Don’t you understand that?”
He nodded, but I didn’t trust it. He squeezed my hand again. “I want the best for you, for us.”
I took a deep breath as my stomach ached from the residual pain, “This is what is best for us, Jordan. A clean slate. Now we can start over with the truth, and re-build.”
He smiled, but I could see he felt lost, the look on his face like that of the man I saved from the bus. As hard as it was to believe all that he had told me, a part of me sensed the truth. I had been there all along the way, just as he had. I had pined for and loved the man of my dreams as much as he loved me here and now. I had no idea what had been happening to me, and I suppose if I had known all along, I would have tried to stop it, but here I am, with all I have.
“Do you want something to drink?” He rose from his stool. “I could use some coffee.”
I nodded. “Perhaps some water would be good.”
He leaned down and kissed me on my forehead.
I held onto his back as he pulled away, whispering in his ear. “Jordan, it’s alright. This is not your fault. You don’t need to change it.” I let go and he stood tall.
“I know, Kenzie.” He turned then and walked toward the door, pausing for a moment to smile before leaving.
I leaned my head back onto the pillow, thinking about what I’d lost. The baby was only two months old, no more than a tiny being. Perhaps the child saw what was destined for it when I found that book yesterday. Perhaps it knew by the way I had reacted that this life was not the one it wanted. I thought about the Kenzie in my dreams and the Kenzie I would have been. I had envied her freedom and her bravery, but perhaps that version of myself also envied me in a similar way.
Does it really matter if you change a moment in the end? For all the struggles I saw on her side of things, there were also the struggles here. In that other life I would have never been beautiful, while here that beauty haunted me. All I know is that it is what it is, and now it’s over. The best I can do is deal with the cards I have been dealt, and try to make the best of it.
I heard a crash in the hall as a woman screamed and I sat up in horror. I felt my blood curdle then as my mind began altering itself. Where the memories of our discussion about the journal in the office had once lived now lived the memories of the discussion never occurring at all. I put my hand over my mouth as my head began to ache, finding that Jordan was out there trying to change my memories and the past, though it seemed it still ended with the same horrible fate.
I pushed myself off the bed and sat up, wincing as I grabbed the I.V. drip and ripped it out of my palm, the needle leaving a deep bruise. I stood on weak legs as I heard doctors running down the halls, rushing past my room. I began to walk toward the door, afraid of what I would find, but determined to see. As I rounded the corner, no one noticed me but what I saw left me clinging to the wall for support.
Jordan was on the ground in a puddle of blood, his shirt soaked through the side. He was still conscious but I saw there was little life left; he was dying. All attention was on him now as a crowd of people bustled around him, and I lost a visual. Filled with fear, I pressed forward, moving people out of the way until the crowd parted and his eyes met mine. I saw then the despair and sorrow, and I understood why he did what he had. If there was any doubt left in me, it was now gone, replaced by the truth and the driving force behind his life.
He blinked as his eyelids became heavy, a doctor finally noticing my presence as he walked away from Jordan to me, taking my arm and leading me back into the room. I never saw Jordan again.
Statement from Dr. Ashcroft,
Vincent Memorial Hospital, Boston
August 4, 2009
06:08 a.m.
Dr. Ashcroft:
They tell me he’s stable, but non-responsive.
Agent Donnery:
This is true. They are trying all they can, but they need a kidney. He has type O blood, so it’s hard to find a donor.
Dr. Ashcroft:
You’re speaking to the gallery, Agent. I know this. There’s a 16% chance.
Agent Donnery:
Unfortunately you’re not a match either.
Dr. Ashcroft:
I also know that, Agent.
Agent Donnery:
And his family members are all deceased, which I know you also know, so…
Dr. Ashcroft:
No, I understand what you’re telling me. You’re trying to say that there is little chance to save him.
Agent Donnery:
We are trying hard. We want him to live for obvious reasons. Just wanted to make sure you are aware of the facts.
Dr. Ashcroft:
I appreciate it.
Agent Donnery:
Well, I better let you be. You probably need some sleep.
Dr. Ashcroft:
Yes, that would be good. Thank you.
Agent Donnery:
No, thank you. This will be a tremendous help.
Dr. Ashcroft:
One last thing, Agent. If he lives, what will happen to him?
Agent Donnery:
Nothing other than questioning. It’s not as though he can go anywhere anymore. You’ve made that clear. This other one though, we’ll need to find her. It’s not safe to allow them to run around changing things. One day it could change something huge, and we may not have a nation or world to answer to because of it.
Dr. Ashcroft:
(laughter) I understand. Tell your wife hello for me, and that I’m sorry I kept you.
Agent Donnery: I will.
August 4, 2009
6:23 a.m.
I watched Agent Donnery leave as I lay back against the pillow. I was exhausted but still awake. Reading the stories seemed to put everything into perspective, and I finally felt free for the first time in my life. I ran my hands across the book in front of me, wondering if Agent Donnery had meant to leave it or not. I pulled it to my chest and hugged it, thinking of Jordan and falling in love with him all over again.
I felt at peace, a feeling I hadn’t felt since I was very young, before all the dreaming. The light outside was just beginning to rise above the nearby hill as it hit the blinds, splaying a striped shadow across the hospital floor. I had worked in this hospital for a while now, and I knew they had given me the nicest room on purpose, something reserved for those with great healthcare.
I wondered then what they knew about Jordan, if anything at all, or if they simply thought it was a failed kidney. I thought back to the events of yesterday, my mind now harboring two memories in Jordan’s attempt to save his child. His efforts were proof in my belief that you can’t always change the future by changing the past. In the end I was still here, and no matter what, it was still another miscarri
age.
I exhaled as I released my grip on the book and closed my eyes, allowing sleep to set in, too tired to push it away. There was a knock on the door then, and my eyes flickered open. I watched as light from the hall flooded the room and a shadow entered. It wasn’t until the door was shut that I saw it was a girl that stood there, dressed from head to toe in black. I felt my heart stop as a sharp breath caught in my throat, recognizing her from Jordan’s descriptions.
She stood like a shadow near the corner, her turquoise eyes just as I had imagined, but her skin was not the pale white that Jordan had suggested. I tilted my head, noticing it was now kissed with a bit of rose.
“I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen.” Her voice was angelic as it filled the room, echoing the same way it had that day in Biology.
“You’re Molly.” I was still trying to process the fact that she was really here, like a fictional character come to life.
