by Amalie Jahn
“So how did you end up accidentally saving Dad?”
“I have no idea,” I replied.
I watched my father, mulling over my revelation. I could see the torment etched in the lines of his face as he attempted to appear unaffected by the news of his own death.
“What’s done is done,” he said finally. “At least some good came of Charlie’s horrible lack of judgment. Now all we can do is leave it up to the court to decide your fate. I’ll pull as many strings as I can from my end. Lord knows, I certainly don’t need any sort of scandal this close to November elections.”
My mother bowed her head as she silently acquiesced to her husband’s assessment of the situation.
We were interrupted by the hum of reverberation as the speaker system crackled to life once again. “Charles Johnson, time is up. Your guests need to leave the visitation area,” the guard announced for the second time.
I stood up to acknowledge my family’s departure. Melody nestled herself against me in the space beneath my arm and began to cry.
“It’s gonna be okay, Mel,” I consoled her. “Someone will figure something out. Have faith.”
Mom scooted around the table and approached me hesitantly. “I always wanted to tell you the truth about your adoption,” she whispered as she reached to embrace me. “I hope you can forgive me.”
“You have nothing to be forgiven for,” I whispered back, hugging her tightly.
“I love you, Charlie,” she said.
“I love you too, Mom,” I replied.
I followed my family to the exit. As the metal gate began to close behind them, my father stopped short and turned to face me, grabbing me by the front of my shirt. I thought, for an instant, he was going to apologize as he pulled my face close to his.
“I don’t know what that little tramp Victoria told you, but I’m sure she filled your head with venomous lies. I stand by my decision to keep you in the dark about the entire situation, and I expect that you will keep your mouth shut about it, if you know what’s good for you.”
I pulled away from him. He released his grip on my shirt just before the fibers began to tear. “You’re a monster,” I said.
“Just keep your mouth shut, Charlie, and maybe I’ll see about getting you out of here,” he replied.
He slipped through the opening, and the gate latched behind him. As I watched my family making their way to the end of the corridor, I was thankful they came to see me. Especially my father. Speaking with him confirmed any doubts I had regarding many of the decisions I’d made since his death. I knew the insights I gained during my time with Victoria were invaluable, as they allowed me to see my father in a whole new light.
No longer did I fear his disappointment or feel the need to garner his approval. She showed me the truth about his character, and so, it was with disgust that I watched him turn the corner toward the exit, from the building, and also, from my life.
C HAPTER TWENTY FOUR
After a dinner of soggy fish sticks, burnt French fries, and overcooked string beans, I returned to the visitation area to wait for Miller. I clung to the hope he’d found a loophole in the course of the afternoon to procure my freedom. My entire future was riding on his ability to work the system in my favor.
I had never been so uncertain of anything in my life.
When the guard announced his arrival, I couldn’t bring myself to stand and greet him. He sauntered across the room, carrying several files in his arms. He tossed them on the table and plopped himself heavily on the bench beside me.
“How’s it going, Charlie?”
“Couldn’t be better,” I replied wryly.
He chuckled. “That good, huh?” he said as he shuffled through his paperwork. “I guess this isn’t really a happening kind of place.”
He hesitated, as if he was waiting for me to engage him in small talk. When, after several seconds, I didn’t respond, he finally continued.
“Well, I guess we should start by discussing what I found out about your case today. Unfortunately, the government only released parts of your file. The full account won’t be available until tomorrow, but I can share the little bit I have right now.” He paused to put on a pair of reading glasses from his jacket pocket. “As you already know, your father’s presence in the current timeline is a direct result of a change made during your trip. The government has proof the change was caused by something you did. Something about a glitch in the timeline monitoring module. I honestly have no idea what that means – I’ve never even heard of a timeline monitoring module before - but it’s what is listed as their evidence. Additionally, there is a second person listed in the report who is currently alive because of your trip. They haven’t released the person’s name, but I have to be honest, Charlie… It was going to be hard enough convincing them that saving one life was a mistake. Two is going to be nearly impossible.”
I stared blankly at the wall. The revelation of having saved a second life was more than I could wrap my head around. I thought about Brooke taking three trips to save one life on purpose. It was ironic that I saved two without even trying. What were the chances?
“Look, legally, there’s not really much I can do to help you. They have evidence you saved both lives from their timeline monitoring module. They know you broke the law. We know your father was one of the people you saved. It’s going to be hard to convince them you didn’t save him on purpose.”
I glared at him. I wanted to share my true feelings about my father, but I knew it wouldn’t help. Neither he nor the panel would believe me.
“I didn’t save anyone on purpose.”
“I get it. You didn’t mean to, but you did anyway. And there’s not much I can do about it now. The best we can do is to beg the board for leniency and hope for the best. There are no loopholes, Charlie. I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am,” I said.
He shook his head and gathered his papers. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure there are a lot of people who would be grateful to know you saved Phil’s life. The world needs as many men like your dad as it can get.”
There was no shortage of people my father sufficiently duped into believing he was the perfect man. Perfect husband. Perfect father. Perfect civic leader. I was sure at that very moment my father was spinning the story of my imprisonment in a way that would show him in the best possible light. A son saving his father’s life would be a captivating human interest story. By morning, he would have every major television network on the phone to discuss how I selflessly used my trip to save his life. Because my love for him was so strong, even the threat of prison didn’t stop me.
When I didn’t respond, Miller stood up from the table and placed his hand on my shoulder. “If I come across something to help, I’ll be in touch. Otherwise, I’ll be back just before the hearing. It’s scheduled for Friday morning at 11AM. We can review your testimony and make sure we have our ducks in a row, so to speak. Anyway, have a good night, Charlie.”
He saw himself to the exit. A guard escorted me to my assigned cell, where I proceeded to have the worst night of my life. I fluctuated between hopefulness and despair as I tossed and turned on the tiny mattress late into the night. Staring at a lengthy crack in the ceiling, I tried to convince myself all was not lost. Surely, upon hearing my testimony, the board would simply throw out my case and allow me to return to my life. I wasn’t a criminal. I hadn’t intended on breaking any rules. At least not that particular rule.
As the hours dragged on, I remembered the articles I read as a child, documenting the government’s strict enforcement policies. I knew they wouldn’t be concerned with my intentions. They only cared that I broke the law. The government wouldn’t miss the opportunity to make me an example for other would-be travelers.
Morning found me despondent and anxious. I knew Brooke would return at some point before lunch. The thought of seeing her was my greatest joy and also my greatest sadness, for I knew deep down that our relationship was about to end
. Our days together were numbered.
By the time the guard announced her arrival, it was midmorning. Depression cloaked me in its suffocating embrace.
“You look awful,” she said as she wrapped her arms around my neck.
“Thanks,” I replied, holding her tightly. “I probably feel worse than I look.”
We stood, holding one another, her head resting on my chest. I closed my eyes, absorbing her warmth and strength. I didn’t want to forget how amazing it felt to press my body against hers because I knew in the coming years, the memory of her embrace would be all I’d have to hold onto.
She pulled away, returning me to reality. My arms fell to my sides as she sat at the table.
“What did the lawyer say? Can he get you out?”
There was a strong possibility we would never be together outside prison walls again. I was hesitant to speak the words aloud, but I wouldn’t sugar coat the truth. I owed her that much.
“No. I don’t think so.”
Anger flashed across her face. “Why not?”
“Because it would have been hard enough if I had only saved my father. But apparently, there’s someone else as well.”
“Someone else? Who?”
“I don’t know for sure. But I have an idea.”
She rested her head in her hands, unwilling to look me in the eye. I reached out to caress her cheek, but she recoiled at my touch.
“Two lives, Charlie? Two!” she snapped. “How could you be so careless? How could you?”
“I’m sorry. I…”
“I’m sorry isn’t enough, Charlie! You were supposed to be my life! You were supposed to be my husband. I should have never agreed to any of this. I should have talked you out of using your trip!”
“I know. You were right. I’m so sorry.”
We sat together in silence, side by side on the picnic table bench for several minutes. She didn’t move, but I could tell her mind was racing.
“Your mother is the other one,” she said finally.
“Probably.”
“Do you want me to find out?”
“Miller said the file would be released sometime today. Then we’ll know for sure. My hearing is set for Friday.”
I followed her gaze out the window at two robins sitting on the ledge.
“Do you want me to go find her? To see what happened?” she asked.
She was looking at me again. Looking at me with the same compassion I’d seen on her face when she treated a wounded animal. Or studied with a struggling classmate. Or helped a friend mend a broken heart. I wasn’t worthy of her compassion, and yet here she was, giving it freely.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. If she’s still alive, then something you said or did kept her from dying. Do you want me to go find out what happened?”
“Why would you do that?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Your mother is the reason for all of this. You wanted to know her truth. Maybe knowing what happened might help get you out of here.” She turned from me again, throwing her hands up in frustration. “What do I know? It’s the only thing I can think of, and I can’t just sit here doing nothing. I want to help.”
And there it was. A funny thing about life is, regardless of the situation, you always are who you are. And regardless of the situation, Brooke Wallace was always a doer. She never sat on the sidelines. She always got involved.
“You’re one special girl, you know that?”
She blushed involuntarily, making a face.
“It’s a long drive. I hate the thought of you going alone.”
“Stop being overprotective,” she replied. “I’ll take Melody. We can leave this afternoon.”
“When will you be back?”
“I’ll make sure we’re back before your hearing, regardless of whether we’re able to find her.”
I smiled at her. I didn’t believe that anything she might find in South Carolina would help me avoid imprisonment, but I wasn’t going to stop her from trying to help. She slid across the bench, draped her legs over mine, and rested her head on my shoulder.
“I wish time travel had never been invented,” she said.
“Me too. But then again, if it had never been invented, you never would’ve tried to save your brother. Instead of going to college, you might still be at home, suffering from depression. And if you never went to college, you wouldn’t have met me.” I paused. “So it can’t be all bad, right?”
“No. It can’t be all bad,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t trade our love to avoid the pain we’re about to endure.”
“Hey. Don’t be so pessimistic. Maybe it will all work out,” I said in a voice that betrayed my true feelings.
“And maybe pigs will fly,” she sighed.
We held one another until the guard announced our time was up. As she slid from my arms, it dawned on me that I might never hold her again. I panicked.
“Don’t leave me,” I whispered, grabbing for her arm as she walked away.
“I have to go, Charlie. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“No,” I said, pulling her close once again, “I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Of you not being a part of my life.”
She stood on her tiptoes and draped her arms around my neck. “No matter what happens, I will always be a part of your life. I love you. Nothing is going to change that. Ever.”
“I’m not going to hold you to that,” I said.
“You won’t have to.”
She kissed me. Her lips were familiar. Soft. Warm. They reminded me of just how much I stood to lose.
“I have to go.”
“I know. Please be safe out there. Especially on the drive south.”
“I will. And stop sounding like my dad.” She smiled. “See you when I get back.”
“Okay.” She made it to the gate before I called to her. “If you see her, my mother… tell her I love her.”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
C HAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Aside from the brief visits with my mom each morning, I spent the next three days alone in my cell. The minutes dragged like hours. The hours felt like days. And I devoted each second to berating myself for every poor decision I made leading to my arrest. I worried endlessly over Brooke and Melody, hating that I had no means of communicating with them.
Mercifully, a guard arrived just after lunch on Thursday to announce there were two visitors waiting for me in the lobby. Instead of feeling elated as I expected, I was overcome by a wave of nausea, unable to stand for several moments. Only when the guard threatened to send them away, did I find the strength to leave my cell.
Brooke and Melody were waiting for me in the visitation area. From the doorway, I watched them huddled together like two schoolgirls with a secret. It was reassuring to know in my absence, they would continue to have each other, but I wondered how long their friendship would last when I was no longer a part of their lives. Would they become yet another casualty of my poor decisions?
Brooke must have felt me watching them. She looked up from their conversation, and as soon as she saw me, her shoulders relaxed. I saw relief wash over her.
The feeling was mutual.
After a quick round of hugs, they sat across the table from me, and I demanded to be filled in on every detail of their trip.
“She’s alive, Charlie,” Brooke began. “We lucked out with it being the first of the month, so Melody and I waited in the same parking lot by the bank for her to show up. It was getting late in the day, and we were about to give up, but then Melody spotted her coming around the corner.”
“She looks exactly like you, Charlie. Only she’s old. And a girl. So I guess she only really looks sort of like you,” Melody explained.
“Well, I guess I should be glad I don’t look like a girl,” I laughed, rolling my eyes.
“You’d make a horrible girl,” she teased. “Especially with your big, hairy toes!”
Brooke sighed heavily but couldn’t
contain a smile. “Stop goofing off you two! We only have 30 minutes, and there’s a lot to tell.”
“We’ll be on our best behavior, Drill Sergeant,” I said, saluting her. I couldn’t deny how much better I felt since they arrived. Love was undeniably therapeutic.
Brooke continued. “By the time we ran across the street, she had already finished at the ATM and was headed back the way she came. We followed her for a few blocks, keeping just out of sight, to see where she was going.”
“That was dangerous,” I said, interrupting. “She’s a drug addict, for crying out loud. Who knows what kind of place she might have led you.”
“Just let me tell the story!”
I acquiesced. “Fine. Tell the story.”
“She led us to this beautiful four story brick building. Looked like it might have been a municipal office at some point. Anyway, nowadays it’s a halfway house.”
“Get out!”
“Yeah. She’s clean and sober. Been that way since you went to see her last year.”
I couldn’t believe what she was saying but I needed desperately to hear the rest. “Tell me everything,” I said.
She took a deep breath. “So after she went inside, we decided to knock on the door. Somebody else answered it. Some old guy. But he let us in and called for Victoria. Of course she had no idea who we were, but as soon as I explained we were there on your behalf, she opened right up. Apparently whatever you said last year put her on the straight and narrow. She said the day after you left, she called a friend who took her to a narcotics anonymous meeting. She started going every day. They put her in touch with the halfway house where they let her stay as long as she tests clean every week. She got a job cleaning houses through another one of the NA members, and she seems to be doing well. She was happy. And grounded. I think she was a lot different than when you saw her during your trip.”
A lump formed in my throat. My mother was alive because of me. It was hard to imagine having such a powerful influence on someone I barely knew. And yet, she told Brooke I was the catalyst for her sobriety. My heart swelled with joy for my mother and the promise of her new life.
