AL: In so many words…
TS: Mine simply shook their heads and reminded me that I had a duty to my family. Now, I’m not saying my parents were in the wrong, and I’m sure you’re more than convinced that I’m excited for the path that I’ve been set on, but imagine being eight years old and telling your parents that you want to be a cowboy when you grow up. That is such a ridiculous dream, isn’t it? It’s not at all a job that one can attain in the twenty-first century. But instead of buying me a cowboy hat and one of those horse heads on a stick, at eight years old, I was taught about responsibility. I was taught the harsh truth of reality. I was taught never to dream.
OMITTED
AL: So, what’s your dream job?
TS: Does it matter?
AL: It does to me.
TS: You know, part of me still wants to be a cowboy.
“I like Italian.”
“What?”
“For dinner. I like Italian.”
“Are you saying you’ll go out with me?”
“I am.”
It was still that same Ashley who had walked into my Upper West Side home just an hour or so before. She was still shy and uncertain, still missing that layer of confidence. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.
She took two steps toward me, lifted to her toes, and lightly pressed her lips to mine. She kissed me ever so gently, but it was also ever so perfect. Maybe she wasn’t missing her confidence. Maybe this is what she looked like when she had all the confidence in the world.
“How about next Tuesday at six?”
“Next Tuesday at six is perfect.”
I walked her to the door and bid her goodnight, finding myself wishing I could fast-forward my week just for another hour with her.
But I never did get that dinner. Once my father read that article, he decided I was getting too close to her. Her saw her as my downfall. I didn’t shut her up; instead, I was reeling her in, I was letting her see a part of me that no one should be allowed to see. He made arrangements for her to spend the next few semesters studying abroad.
The night before she left she stopped by my place to say goodbye, but I wasn’t home. He had made sure of that.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Teddy
It was as if the projector turned off. I still felt as though I was sitting alone in a giant movie theatre, but the screen had turned black, and I was now sitting in complete darkness. I stared in the direction I had seen the flashes, just waiting for the next one to appear, but nothing happened.
What could this mean? Was that the end of my flashes? It was another year and a half until I saw Ashley again, but I did see her. If these memories that were haunting me in my final moments were meant to show me the parts of my life that I had taken for granted, the parts I shared with her, then they couldn’t be over. There was more.
It was funny, really. I’m not going to lie: watching the flashes was painful, but only because I knew I’d never get a chance to make things right. It was torture to see myself pull her in and then push her away over and over again, and I knew there were plenty more instances when that tug-of-war game occurred. A sane man would beg for it to be over, to not have to spend his last few seconds of consciousness being reminded of his failures. But not me. I wasn’t in denial. I knew my life was ending, and I knew I would never see her again. Because of that, I would endure every painful memory over and over again for the rest of eternity if it meant I was able to feel as though she was in the same room.
Wow, I was a sappy dead man.
Or maybe just an honest one?
But as I pleaded with my subconscious for more memories, for at least one more that I could treasure, I began to hear voices. They were quiet at first, but became louder and more earnest as the tones cleared.
“Clear!”
The room shook.
“Again… charging… clear!”
Another earthquake.
“I have a pulse!”
The room started to suction around me. You know in those sci-fi movies when they jump into light speed or hyper drive, and the stars stretch out around them? That’s what this seemed like. I felt as though I was being torn from my space and time. Does that make any sense?
Soon the streaks of light were gone and I was thrown into another sort of blackness. It was a reddish blackness, actually. You know when you close your eyes in the daytime and you can still see the light through your eyelids? That’s the reddish blackness I’m talking about, as opposed to the complete void I experienced when my flashes turned off.
“Mr. Stoneguard, can you hear me?”
Shit.
Was I back? Did my flashes end because they were able to bring me back to life? I tried to open my eyes, but nothing happened. I tried to will my body to react, but it refused.
“Mr. Stoneguard? If you can hear me, blink your eyes.”
I wanted to yell at her: lady, whoever you are, assume that if I could I would’ve already done that!
“Mr. Stoneguard?”
Wait… that voice, it sounded familiar, comforting. I knew that lady. At least I thought I did. Why couldn’t I place her? From where did I know that voice? Think Teddy, think.
I tried to focus all my energy into blinking my eyes so I could see the face of the woman I could swear I knew, but as I did, I began to feel. I felt pain. My entire body felt the accident. My bones felt crushed, my muscles raw, my throat hot and sore. My lungs were on fire and my heart felt as though it was pierced. I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough. I needed to escape from the pain. I thought I had been done with that part of the dying process. I just couldn’t…
“Heart rate is dropping again.”
“Forty… thirty-two…”
“We’re losing him!”
“Twenty… sixteen…”
I was back in the room, seated in front of the movie screen. I heard the projector warm back up before shooting a picture onto the white canvas in front of me. Five… four… three… two… one…
“You sound like that baby otter in the video where they put him in the water for the first time.”
“Excuse me?”
“See, now your voice sounds normal. Why is your laugh so weird?”
“I… I… can’t believe you’re making fun of the way I laugh.”
The flashes were back. They had started over again, but this time I was speeding through them, as if I was trying to fast forward so I could get back to the place I left off.
“Go ahead, call the cops. Tell them I’ll wait.”
“You don’t think I’d do it.”
“I know you wouldn’t do it.”
Five… four… three… two… one…
“Well maybe if you stopped twisting every little thing I do into a headline…”
“Think of me as your teacher. The more I tell the world of your immature ways, the faster you’re forced to grow up.”
“And the more you exaggerate them?”
“The better you’ll do at learning what it is to be an adult.”
I tried to slow them down, to live each moment again, but I didn’t have control.
“Son, you know better than to fraternize with the likes of her.”
“I wasn’t, Sir, believe me. She just showed up and ambushed me.”
“Will there be another article in the paper tomorrow?”
“Most likely.”
“Then you didn’t take care of her like you should have done.”
“She doesn’t need…”
“Do not step on my words, boy. You take care of her, or I will.”
Five… four… three… two… one…
“I’m going to the library to study.”
“Mmm, no you’re not.”
“I’m not lying to you.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that.”
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you drunk.”
I didn’t know what was worse: feeling the immense amount of physical pain from slamming into a tree at I’
m sure no less than eighty miles an hour, or watching your life flash before you for a second time, but this time not being able to live in the moment? Unlike the time before, I was separate from the memories. I was completely an onlooker. I couldn’t feel her there. It was absolute torture.
“Kiss me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Then kiss me, you coward.”
Five… four… three… two… one…
“Stop this now.”
“Stop what?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Ashley. You’ve, for some reason, put a bull’s eye on my back and you can’t stop throwing your knives.”
If it was possible, they seemed to be speeding at me even faster.
“If I ask you to leave me alone…”
“I can’t do that.”
“And if I promise it’ll mean we keep meeting like this?”
“Then I look forward to all the times I’ll be pinned up against the wall by you.”
Five… four… three… two… one…
“Ashley, I’ve been watching you in your window for twenty-seven minutes. I know you’re in there.”
Oh good, this one again. At least it was flashing by at triple the speed.
“Tuesday at six?”
“Tuesday at six it is.”
Five… four… three… two… one…
“Are you saying you don’t know your father?”
“I didn’t say that. I know exactly who my father is.”
“Care to enlighten us?”
“This is one of those questions that I would like to save for another time.”
“You said I could ask you anything.”
“Ashley, please. Not this.”
I was almost there, nearing the end of the string of memories. I was anxious, actually nervous, to see what my mind would choose to stir up next. The speed of the memories resumed to a normal pace, and I watched our last parting the way I did before I was brought back to consciousness.
“I like Italian.”
“What?”
“For dinner. I like Italian.”
“Are you saying you’ll go out with me?”
“I am.”
“How about next Tuesday at six?”
“Next Tuesday at six is perfect.”
Five… four… three… two… one…
“Teddy?”
“Ashley… you’re… you’re back.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HUNTINGTON HERALD
Back to the Bad Boy
By Ashley Leigh
Well, my loyal readers, you guessed it: I’m back! A year and a half has come and gone, I’ve travelled to ten different countries, met worlds of different people, and I’ve gotten to see and write about things I never thought possible. It’s truly been magnificent.
I received every single one of your letters letting me know what Teddy has been up to while in my absence. I particularly enjoyed learning that he threw himself a parade. What was that about? And please, I’d love to know who took part in such a wild experience. There were dancing monkeys? Were they real monkeys or just random people dressed as monkeys?
And hand gliding off the cliffs? That boy really does have a death wish, doesn’t he?
But now I’m back! I’m ready to pick up where you all left off, and that starts with a beach party!
Sources close to our billionaire say the party got a little wild, even for this rowdy group. Around midnight on Saturday night, the police showed up on the scene responding to a noise complaint. The partygoers refused to quiet down, which resulted in an altercation between two of the young men and three of the officers. The group was then taken down to the precinct where a handful of them spent the night in the drunk tank, while the two that assaulted the police officers were handcuffed and are now being charged with a Class C Felony. So, yes, the party got a little out of hand.
So which of these partiers was our Teddy? The answer, which may surprise you, is none. Teddy managed to slip away earlier in the night with an unnamed lady friend. The two were spotted in a “compromising position” about a hundred yards away from the bonfire. Sources also claim that the two fell asleep on the beach, only to be awoken by a flock of seagulls the following morning. They snuck away, seemingly unnoticed, but little did they know: we’re always watching.
So who is our mystery lady? If you have any helpful tips, ideas, or scoops, write the newspaper! I’d love to know your thoughts!
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Teddy
Five… four… three… two… one…
“Teddy?”
“Ashley… you’re… you’re back.”
Yes, I was shocked to see her. It’s not like I forgot about her, but after a year and a half with absolutely no contact, I started to believe I’d never see her again. I moved on with my life… or at least I thought I did.
But seeing her there, on that beach… well, had I been a smarter man at twenty-four, it would have been eye opening. And it was, at least for a time. My only regret was that I didn’t know then how to fight for what I wanted. Or maybe it was that deep down I didn’t think I deserved it.
Maybe I didn’t.
“I am.”
“What?”
“Back.”
“Right.”
“So…”
“When?”
“This morning.”
I didn’t stand. I didn’t introduce her to my friends. I just sat there, staring at her. Her hair had grown out a little, framing her face and resting on her shoulders. There was a slight wave to it, which was only accentuated by the summer breeze. She was wearing a navy blue, polka dotted swimsuit, with a white sarong tied high around her waist. She was carrying white flip-flops in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
“Did you know I’d be down here?”
My voice was quiet, unsure. I was still stunned by her, and unable to shake the yearning I felt in my chest.
“I didn’t. I was just going for a walk.”
She seemed to have the same problem I did. Our eyes were locked and the tone of our voices matched. Everyone else had disappeared, and we were alone on the beach.
Until we weren’t…
“Dude, are you going to introduce us?”
I shook from our stare. “Um, sorry. Everybody, this is Ashley. Ashley, this is… well, everybody.”
One by one, they went around the circle, introducing themselves: the girls commenting on her attire, the boys giving their drunken compliments. Two of the guys made a place for her around the fire.
“Care to join us?”
“Sure.”
“No.” I jumped up to my feet. I didn’t want her there, with them. I saw the way they looked at her, and I knew those guys too well. They treated women the exact way I did, the way my father did. But I couldn’t let that happen, not with Ashley. I couldn’t before, and I couldn’t now. There was something about her… that strange draw… I couldn’t just feed her to them. I wanted her for myself, but much more of her than I could grasp. It had been too long since I’d seen her. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to find out all the things I had wanted to find out a year and a half earlier. I wanted that date. “I was just leaving.”
“Dude, no you weren’t. We just got here.”
“Yes, I was.” I narrowed my eyes, hoping he’d get the picture. She was mine.
“Right, you were.” My say still had some clout. “Sorry.”
“Ashley, walk with me?”
She slowly blinked her eyes at me, smiled, and nodded. I found my way out of the circle, grabbed my blanket, said my goodbyes, and started down the beach with the girl I thought had gotten away. But I was tongue-tied. I had no idea how to start the conversation.
“Let me hold that for you.” I slid the wine from her fingers.
“Thanks.”
“Planning on drinking alone?”
“I was.”
“That’s kind of pathetic.” I shouldn’t have said that. Teddy the imbe
cile, even two years later.
“And here I thought this was going to be a nice evening where I didn’t get made fun of.” She giggled as she shook her head at me.
“Well, you obviously didn’t think you were hanging out with me, then.” That was a pathetic sort of save.
We walked in silence for a few steps. I wanted to hold her hand. Is that weird? It was so elementary, but the idea of slipping my fingers into hers excited me. But I was too nervous, too shy, to try it.
“I tried to say goodbye.” She finally broke the silence.
“I know.”
“You knew?”
Damn. I couldn’t very well tell her that I knew my father had deliberately seen to it that I was not around when she was leaving. I couldn’t tell her that the reason she was offered a scholarship to study abroad was completely my father’s doing so that he could keep her away from me. And I still couldn’t tell her the reason I ran away from her the night in her apartment.
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