PLAY ON

by Marilynn Halas

  “You hungry? Chili’s almost ready,” Joe called from the kitchen. He was equal parts big brother, best friend, and surrogate dad to Maggie ever since their dad passed away.

  Maggie joked that she couldn’t stay. “I only stopped by to use the bathroom. It’s bound to be cleaner than the ones near the subway.”

  After Maggie left, the guys sat down to enjoy the nastiest chili either one of them had ever tasted.

  “Good Lord! What in the heck did you put into this? It’s worse than road-kill.” Clint pretended he was gagging.

  “It may be possible that I put in too much Tabasco.” Joe tried to smile. “The good thing is that unlike the Podunk place you come from, here in New York we can order in anything we want.”

  “No, the sad thing is that you are so pathetic, you have to rely on takeout because you can’t make a decent supper.”

  Joe laughed and called the Mexican restaurant down the street. He ordered chili, nachos, burritos, and deep-fried ice cream for dessert. When Joe came back from the kitchen, they talked about everything from Joe’s new job to the bad news from Sara’s doctor. It didn’t look like Clint and Sara were going to be able to have any kids. Joe didn’t know what to say, and they were both a little relieved when the food finally arrived.

  After dinner they played Joe’s old guitar and sang just about every song they knew until the neighbor knocked on the wall begging them to stop. “She has no respect,” Joe laughed. “This old guitar could very well have been played by none other than E. Princely! At least that’s what the guy who gave it to me said. We pulled him from a burning building and he insisted on rewarding us with his prized possession. I was glad no one else wanted it. I don’t think they believed it belonged to The Ambassador of Rock-and-Roll. I don’t think I do either, but it’s still a really cool guitar.” Joe felt like he was back in college, and when his friend was leaving, he made a decision. Joe offered Clint the prized guitar. Joe had no idea that his decision would have cosmic consequences.

  October 25, 1985

  Ryan tried to control the old Ford as it barreled down the street. He was practically standing on the brakes, but it was no use. This thing was out of control. He knew better than to do what he did. He knew better, but that hardly mattered now. He was a freshman at Southern State and it was rush week. He wanted to be a fraternity brother more than anything and now everyone around him would pay for it.

  He careened around a corner and tried again to slow down, but the old pick-up truck just picked up speed as it moved down the hill. The traffic light in the distance became his only hope. Just beyond the light was a field that he was sure would stop this wild ride. He would ram it into a barn or a haystack, something that would stop this useless heap of metal.

  An hour earlier, Ryan had been in the great room of the fraternity house on bended knee. The president of the chapter was issuing his decree on what kind of hazing Ryan would have to endure to prove he was worthy of becoming a member. After weeks of midnight beer runs and being left naked in a hay field to prove he could find his way back, tonight was the final challenge.

  Ryan had to drive the fraternity's old Ford down Main Street at midnight. Everyone knew it had lousy brakes, but when Ryan accepted the keys, he didn’t know that it had no brakes at all. Now as he held his breath and prayed for a miracle, he felt like a fool. Even if he survived, these fraternity brothers may not be worth all the risk.

  The light changed from green to yellow and Ryan wailed on the horn. In this small town no one would be out this late anyway, but even so, Ryan was praying that he would make it through unscathed. He moved closer and closer to the traffic light and began to look past the intersection to find a spot in the field ahead. It looked like he would make it, and Ryan relaxed his grip on the wheel. But then he looked into the field and saw a woman standing there, watching. At that moment the light turned red.

  Ryan once heard someone say that in moments of extreme danger a person’s life passes before his or her eyes. That’s a little bit like what happened next, only Ryan didn’t see his past; when he looked at that woman in the field, he saw his future.

  October 25, 2011

  Danny watched the sunrise and smiled when he smelled his mama’s biscuits baking. His dad would be making the coffee by now and bringing it out to the front porch. His parents spent most of their time together, but it had not always been that way. Danny remembered hearing that his parents once spent months apart. It had been during the mid 1980s, when getting the farm to turn a profit was getting harder and harder. There was even the first of a concert series called Farm Aid, to try to help America’s farmers. His dad had taken on some extra work as a long-haul truck driver to try and make ends meet. Sara missed him, but he always brought back a magnet for her from every truck stop he ever visited. She developed quite a collection. Then something happened, but Danny had never known what.

  Danny remembered hearing about the time that his dad came home just in time for Halloween and a couple of days later his parents had a visitor. A young man arrived on the farm and Sara figured he was looking for work. The young man and Clint went out to the barn to have a chat. When they were finished, Clint and Sara holed up in their room for hours. When Clint came back downstairs, he had his bag in his hand, and he was out the door saying he had to leave again on a very important job. That was the last time she saw him until Christmas Eve.

  Sara had said that nobody talked about it, but everyone seemed to know that there was big trouble in the Charles family. Then it was all over as quickly as it began. It still made Danny smile to hear stories about that Christmas Eve.

  Danny didn’t realize that even now, Sara could still remember looking out from the upstairs window of the bedroom. The snow was gently falling; it was a picture-perfect Christmas Eve, and then she saw a man in the distance. No car, no truck, not even a sleigh, just one man walking up the driveway with a cowboy hat on his head and a shivering bundle in his arms. Sara nearly fell as she scrambled down the stairs to reach the door. There was only one man she knew who looked like that and it wasn’t Santa Claus.

  When she opened the door, she got the best Christmas present she could ever remember. Still holding the bundle, Clint’s strong hands twirled her around the porch and gave her the biggest and best hug ever. On those rare occasions when she would talk about it, it was as if she could still feel the cold from the snow that was sticking to Clint’s beard, and she always smiled just thinking about it.

  “Merry Christmas, Sara. I’m hoping this is still a time for miracles.” Sara reached out her hand and ushered him inside and out of the cold. Danny never knew that when Clint handed her the little bundle, Sara fell to her knees as tears of joy fell down her face. “I’ll tell you all about it later, but I think we’d better warm up some milk first.” Sara held the baby bundled in her arms and could barely form the words she needed to ask. “What? How is this possible? Where is his family?” Clint promised to tell her everything, but when the baby let out a howl, they both decided the details could wait; this little one was hungry.

  It was years later before Danny knew any part of what had really happened. The young man who came to the barn that night to talk to Clint was not looking for work. In fact, he was in pretty good financial shape. His name was Michael McIntyre and he didn’t just have a job at the bank, he owned it.

  He had come by the house as a courtesy to let Clint know that the bank was considering foreclosing on the Charles farm. It was a disaster narrowly avoided. Clint went to New York and the "special assignments" he knew his boss could get him. Making deliveries in the New York area meant more money and more runs; the fact that he was delivering cargo with somewhat questionable paperwork was none of his business. Sara had wanted him to stay home and insisted that they go to family and friends to ask for help, but Clint refused. He believed his neighbors were busy trying to save their own farms and he wanted no one’s charity. Their fight was epic, but they survived and so did the farm.

  October 2
6, 2011

  Dillon had the perfect seat in Biology class, just out of the teacher’s view and right behind Marie. She was wearing the same pink high-tops she wore at the skate park and everything, from her white leather jacket to her faded blue jeans, was just about perfect. She had smiled at him as she sat down, and now every time she flipped her hair over her shoulder—which seemed to happen a lot—the most wonderful aroma wafted in Dillon’s direction.

  Dillon’s phone pinged. He glanced down. A text from Marie!

  “Hello <3”

  His teacher may as well have been on the moon and speaking Martian. All Dillon could concentrate on was figuring out what to text back. Something funny, but not stupid, something that meant please be my girlfriend but actually gave him a reasonable cover if she said no. He was floundering around trying to think of what to text when his phone buzzed again.

  “do u want 2 come to the play 2nite? I helped with the set design and the wrap party is right after the show :o) Marie”

  Sweet! Dillon had to read it twice before he could calm down enough to answer. “ok :) ”

  When the teacher warned him to sit up straight and focus, he just smiled and slid down in his seat even more. Talk about an out-of-body experience. His body was stuck in class, but the rest of him was home trying to figure out how this miracle happened.

  “You are kidding me!” Tom shouted on their way home that afternoon. “Show me the text.”

  “What? I’m hurt. Don’t you trust me? You believe I got a ghost in my guitar, but not that Marie asked me out?” Dillon had a twinkle in his eye as he feigned offense.

  “Trust, but verify, my friend. Trust, but verify,” Tom said as he scrolled down Dillon’s texts.

  When they bounded into Dillon’s apartment, their first stop was the kitchen. Dillon’s mom had left cookies on the counter and twenty bucks for pizza beside the phone. Dillon couldn’t see how this day could get any better. Tom placed the order for a large pie with everything, and Dillon went to his room. For the first time in his life, he actually cared about what he wore.

  “Put that back!” Tom was behind him. “There is no way you are meeting Marie in that!” Tom shook his head pityingly at Dillon, and then he threw the offending shirt on the bed. “Classic, my man, think classic.” Tom pushed Dillon out of the way and rummaged through Dillon’s clothes. A minute later he handed Dillon a pair of black pants, a blue oxford shirt, and a black leather jacket. Dillon hated to admit it, but he was impressed—and grateful.

  A couple of hours later Dillon was back at school. Kids ran in and out of the auditorium, but there was no sign of Marie. Dillon figured she was probably too busy getting the stage ready so he shrugged and took his seat in the audience. As soon as he sat down he heard Danny from behind.

  “I just have to ask, is this your first date?”

  “Not that it is any of your business, but no, it is not my first date,” Dillon whispered and tried to be serious, but started laughing anyway. “This is my second date. My first date was when I was two and I was the ring bearer at Uncle Joe’s wedding. Let me tell you, that flower girl was really nice and an older woman—she was five.”

  Just when Danny thought he couldn’t like Dillon more, he did. In fact, he loved this kid. “Yeah, you just have that look about you.”

  Dillon was suddenly self-conscious, never a good thing on a first date. “What look? What’s wrong? What do you mean?”

  “Relax. I can just tell when you’re nervous. You run your hands through your hair and you look like a church mouse trying to run the revival.”

  “What the heck are you talking about?” Dillon whispered.

  “It’s okay. The truth is, I do the same darn thing.” The house lights dimmed and the curtain rose. The opening scene was a mountaintop somewhere in the Alps, and a young girl backed into center stage. She spread her arms wide and turned around singing.

  When someone sat down in the empty seat beside him, Dillon wouldn’t have even noticed if Danny hadn’t gasped. Dillon looked over and then not only did he gasp, he jumped.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Marie smiled at him and settled in to watch the show.

  “Wow, you look beautiful,” Dillon stammered.

  Marie wore a navy blue dress with a silver shawl that sparkled in the stage lights. Her hair was swept up to one side with a silver clip nestled among the curls. Dillon was really glad he hadn't worn jeans. There was no doubt about it, Marie liked to keep him guessing, and she kept him on his toes for the rest of the evening, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he kind of liked it, or her, or whatever.

  March 17, 1996

  “Guess what?” Maggie was breathless with excitement. “We are going to have the best St. Patrick’s Day ever,” she gushed. “Come home quick.”

  Ryan put his key in the lock and thought he heard a cat crying. When he opened the door, he discovered that it was no cat. Maggie held a baby boy in her arms, and she was rocking him and singing him to sleep.

  “Look at him; isn’t he beautiful?” Ryan took one look and he was hooked. He sat down. “What’s going on?”

  That was the moment Maggie realized that the whole truth would be too much for Ryan. She had lived it and it was almost too much for her. There was no way she could tell Ryan that an elderly woman she met at the hospital sent her through a time portal to a field in Tennessee where the woman handed her a baby and told her he was to be her son. She couldn’t understand how they had gotten there or back, so how could she possibly explain it to Ryan? Even Joe seemed confused when she called him. Joe agreed to help her, but he could hardly believe it himself. In fact, he wouldn’t have believed it, but this was Maggie, so he did and together they came up with a cover story.

  Ryan was starting to tap his foot; he was losing patience.

  “Joe called today and said he needed a favor.” Maggie steeled herself. “Joe was headed to Tennessee. He asked me to take care of his buddy’s kid for a few days. Apparently the baby’s parents were killed in a car wreck and they have no other relatives. Joe went to see if he could locate the grandparents, but no luck.” Ryan looked over at his new houseguest and smiled.

  “How long is he staying?” Ryan asked. Maggie smiled and rubbed the baby’s back. “As long as he likes.”

  A year later Maggie and Ryan formally adopted Dillon.

  October 27, 2011

  Dillon was completely distracted. In the last couple of months he had gotten used to seeing a ghost and developed a working knowledge of string theory and quantum physics and its relationship to gravity. But right now he couldn’t seem to focus for more than a minute on anything that didn’t involve Marie. Tom clapped his hands to bring Dillon back from his daydream.

  “Man, it’s hard to believe you used to spend hours playing the guitar. Lately you seem to have the attention span of a gnat.”

  Dillon and Marie had spent the last two days stealing glances, sending texts, and even holding hands when Dillon walked her home from school. Compared to this, inter-dimensional time travel was a complete and utter bore.

  That night Dillon lay in bed, looking out the window. Even in New York City, the stars were shining bright and seemed so close that he almost felt like he could touch them. It wasn’t long before he closed his eyes and began to drift asleep. The last thought he remembered was hoping he would dream about Marie.

  Dillon was falling. In his dream, he fell down stairs that were endless and he knew the whole time there was no way he would land on his feet. The stairs were metal and dark, and the railings were covered in spikes. There was a smell of sulfur and rotting garbage, and the more he fell the stronger the smell became. Now instead of wishing for a dream that would include Marie, he was very glad she wasn’t there.

  Finally he landed with a thud and realized to his horror that he was back on the cold, damp floor of the cave and once again it was covered in broken glass. He was cut and bruised everywhere, and when he tried to stand, he began to wonder if one of his legs was actual
ly broken. He pulled himself to his feet and didn’t move for a few minutes. He just stood there panting. The cave was different this time: he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face when he was here before, but now there was a dim light glowing all around him.

  He realized it was more than just a light; if he listened closely he could hear a distant hum. Dillon looked around and was disgusted when he discovered that what he believed to be broken glass when he landed was actually shards of crushed human bones. That explained the smell of something rotting, but the source of the sulfur smell was still a mystery. Dillon wished he could float. He knew what he had to do, but he wasn’t ready to do it. The bones under his feet were smeared with blood and the walls were covered in desperate scratches. He couldn’t understand why he kept returning to this place. He didn’t understand why any of this was happening to him. Instead of feeling like a fifteen-year-old, he felt very small, and though he hated to admit it, he wished his mom were with him. He should have been more careful what he wished for.

  Dillon tried to steady himself. He remembered his Great-Aunt Moya telling him that when your back is against the wall, you have nowhere to go but forward, and so that’s what he did. He took the first step forward and heard the sickening sound of the bones crunching under his shoe. He tried to focus on the fact that, at least this time, he could see where he was going, and he headed for what looked like a hallway leading out of the part of the cave that he was in. The last time he followed a breeze, it led him outside. Unfortunately, the outside it led him to was war-torn Afghanistan. There was no breeze this time and Dillon didn’t dare to hope that the hallway would lead to a sunny meadow. The truth was that he didn’t want to think about where the hallway might lead. All he knew for sure was that, even if he didn’t know where he was going, he couldn’t stay where he was.