“He was a good friend—a really good kid,” Andy said. “Should we pay our respects?” He pulled the keys out of the ignition and looked at Daniel. “He’s right over there.”
A chill ran down Daniel’s spine as his eyes followed the direction of Andy’s nod. Roger was right over there. Just beyond the line of trees was his best friend’s final resting place. He reached for the door handle and climbed out of the car.
The afternoon sunlight warmed Daniel’s skin. He walked through the grass, following Andy past weather-worn headstones that tilted like crooked teeth all through the graveyard. They passed by stones with letters and numbers that had been almost erased by time, stepping reverently around the freshly dug graves. Daniel avoided the piles of dirt that had been newly turned, instead looking up into the trees and watching as the sun poured through the green leaves.
“Here’s Roger,” Andy said quietly, stopping in front of a straight stone. He stared down at the grave.
Daniel stopped just behind his uncle. An unfamiliar feeling washed over him as he read the dates on Roger’s gravestone: December 12, 1967—April 11, 1986. Eighteen years old. Daniel’s age. But Roger had been there—he’d been real. And now he was gone.
Roger falling from the bridge was no longer just in Daniel’s memory, it was real. This gravestone was proof that he’d lived and died.
“He saved me,” Andy said, still looking down at the stone. “I owe him.”
Daniel wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he said nothing.
“His mom is right next to him,” Andy added, taking a step over and standing in front of the grave next to Roger’s. “She died on 9/11.”
The sunlight that had just felt warm and reassuring on Daniel’s shoulders and neck suddenly felt oppressive and hot. His field of vision blurred and went white. Roger’s mom was supposed to have survived 9/11. He’d given Roger the information fifteen years before the attacks and—
It hit him hard. And Roger hadn’t lived to tell her about it. He’d died and taken everything Daniel had told him about the future with him. By focusing with such single-mindedness on saving Andy, Daniel had—in essence—erased Roger. And Roger’s mother. And anyone else who might have come into Roger’s life. A wife? Children? He couldn’t even think about it. He’d changed the course of time and the future. Daniel’s grandparents were healthy and his family was intact. His mother was successful, and his own life was all he’d ever hoped it would be. But in order to get that, he’d sacrificed someone else.
“You want to see where they buried Blake?” Andy asked, not turning around. “I know you two were friends at one point.”
“Blake?” Daniel felt like he’d been punched. Double-punched, to be more accurate. Realizing the trickle-down effect of his life in 1986 combined with the reminder that Blake Schiller was rotting somewhere in this graveyard nearly brought him to his knees.
“Yeah. He’s got a headstone with a different name on it. They were worried people would vandalize it.”
“What name?” Daniel swallowed hard, suddenly wishing he had water.
“His middle name and his mother’s maiden name. He’s right over there.” Andy pointed at a grave several rows over. The headstone was smaller than the others and had no birth or death dates. The grass around it was still a slightly different color than the grass of the graves that had been there for years.
Daniel shook his head. “I don’t want to see it.”
They stood by Roger’s grave. A gust of wind blew the branches overhead, sending a rustling sound through the leaves.
“Do you know why he did it?” Andy asked. Daniel watched his uncle’s strong profile as he looked across the graveyard with narrowed eyes. “Was he being bullied, or what?”
“I don’t know,” Daniel said. “I don’t remember.” And he didn’t. For all the details he remembered about a time he’d lived in briefly—the smell of Jenny’s shampoo, the songs on the radio, the way his grandmother had moved around the kitchen in the evenings, making casserole and talking to Daniel’s mother she did homework at the dining room table—for all the things he remembered of that time, he had almost no memory of the day of the shooting.
Of course he’d looked up the details online and read about Blake terrorizing the school right before winter break, but for all the words written about the incident, he still had no idea why it had happened.
“I guess it doesn’t matter much now,” Andy said, turning back to Roger’s headstone. “What’s done is done, right?”
Daniel could do nothing but agree. What was done, was done. He stayed put for a minute or two after Andy had turned to walk back to the Camaro, paying his final respects to Roger. Maybe the whole thing had been a trick of time or of his mind, and maybe he’d never know the truth. But one thing he did know for sure was that he was standing in front of the grave of the best friend he’d ever had.
He and Andy drove back to his grandparents’ house in silence, windows down, music blaring all the way.
32
May 13, 2017
If You Were Here, Underneath The Purple Rain
The message arrived on a Wednesday. She’d found him on Facebook—an old account he barely touched anymore—and sent a short note:
I’d like to see you. Can we go to the city? Meet at the Starbucks on the street where Tower Records used to be?
Jenny. Daniel had thought of her so many times since he’d woken up, but the idea of actually seeing her made him feel all kinds of things. And the fact that she wanted to see him was almost too much for him to comprehend.
On Saturday morning Daniel got up early and went for a run outside. He’d gotten back into shape and was able to do most of the things he’d done before the shooting. He was almost as strong as he’d been before it had happened.
“Honey?” Lisa Girch knocked at Daniel’s bedroom door. It was still strange to him to think that he was sleeping in the same room he’d woken up in on New Year’s Day in 1986. Everything looked so different.
“Come in,” he said. He was standing in front of his open closet, buttoning a striped shirt.
His mom poked her head in. “Plans for the day?”
“I’m just going into the city with some friends.”
“Oh, good.” Lisa was already dressed in white jeans and a light sweater, her hair straightened and her makeup on. “I’ve got plans today, so I was hoping you did too.” She looked at her watch. “Do you need money?”
Daniel hadn’t thought about that. He and Jenny had arranged to meet at Starbucks, and other than what he’d wear and whether they’d still have any lingering feelings for one another (despite the obvious challenges to that scenario) he hadn’t really considered anything else.
“Could I borrow a twenty?” he asked.
“Sure. I’ll leave it on the island in the kitchen.” Lisa moved into the hallway, her hand still on the doorknob. “Have a good day, okay?”
“Thanks, Mom.” As he knelt in front of his closet, looking for the shoes he wanted, he noticed the floorboard that covered his hiding spot. He ran a hand over it.
The door closed downstairs and Lisa left the house, probably to spend the afternoon with the man she’d been dating recently. His name was Jon, and he owned a construction company in a town close by. Daniel had met him once and found him to be reassuringly boring and totally appropriate for his mother.
He pulled up the floorboard and felt around to see what was inside. His hand found the old iPhone and he pulled it out. The screen was shattered and the battery was dead. He turned it over in his hand, remembering the way it had skidded across the floor at the Barrel Room, landing next to some guy’s boot at the Psychedelic Furs concert.
Daniel plugged the charger into the phone and waited for the battery to come back to life. When he had enough to turn it on, he powered up the iPhone and went directly to his videos. There, amidst the images of his friends from 2016, he saw still shots of the videos he’d taken of Roger and of the Psychedelic Furs onstage. He cl
icked on the concert video.
Richard Butler sang onstage. The video was dark and grainy, but the night came flooding back to Daniel as he watched through the cracks on the screen. Valentine’s Day 1986. New York City. Jenny. And then suddenly, there she was, the back of her head bobbing in time to the music as she watched the show. Daniel put his fingers on the image of her. This was the Jenny he’d known. The Jenny he’d be seeing in just a few hours.
He finished dressing and took one more close look in the mirror. He’d shaved that morning and run his hands through his hair a few times so it didn’t look like he’d tried too hard. His shirt was untucked and he wore Vans with his jeans. Daniel felt ready to make the trip into the city, to sit on the train and look out the window, watching the suburbs disappear as he moved into New York with the rest of the day trippers and tourists.
But first, he walked through the house and took it all in, something he did every few days in wonder. Gone were the faded walls of the hallway he remembered from his childhood, and missing were the framed pictures of him next to the guest room door. The kitchen had been knocked out and remodeled. Its counters were white and clean, the windows large enough to fill the house with light. Even the furniture was different; the part-time jobs his mother had worked before his trip to the past had provided them with well-worn pieces that had no character, but as a dentist, Lisa’s income and tastes had changed enough that she’d filled their house with sturdy, comfortable couches and chairs in soft microsuede and leather. Daniel stood in front of the white mantel and looked at the framed photos of trips they’d taken to Disneyworld and Paris. Trips he didn’t even remember taking. So much had changed.
As he’d imagined, the ride into the city was peaceful and gave him time to just sit and think. He took deep breaths, trying not to feel nervous about the way his meeting with Jenny might go. Would they recognize each other instantly? Wait—of course she’d recognize him. His face was the same one he’d seen in the mirror every time he caught a glimpse of his reflection in 1986. He was essentially the same boy with the same face, brought to her by a wrinkle in time that he had no idea how to explain. But if she’d contacted him, then would he even have to explain it?
“Penn Station,” came a voice over the train’s speaker. Daniel stood along with the majority of the other passengers, tugging at the bottom of his shirt anxiously. He knew he could easily walk the blocks between Penn Station and Times Square, but instead, he switched to the subway and took a train to where Tower Records used to be.
Once he was above ground again, Daniel stood for a moment in the hustle and bustle of the Saturday foot traffic, listening to taxis honking and people shouting. A man on the corner was trying to sell something out of a suitcase. In front of the Starbucks that Daniel was looking for, a woman in a long, dirty coat stood on the sidewalk, shouting to the sky about demons and about her tax dollars being misspent.
Daniel blinked a few times, staring at the entrance to the coffee shop. Jenny was either already inside, or she’d be there soon. He spent a minute or two trying to decide whether it would be better to be waiting for her, or to walk in casually and let her spot him first. As he pondered this, a woman with a stroller ran into his right leg.
“Sorry,” she said, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes. She had two toddlers in the stroller and one of them reached out with a foot and tried to kick Daniel. “Would you mind getting the door for me?”
Without hesitating, Daniel walked over and pulled open the heavy glass door, holding it for her as she pushed the stroller into the coffee shop. This move essentially made the decision for him; he couldn’t just stand there looking like an idiot holding the door, so he walked in and stood in line behind the woman with the stroller, determined to order a drink and try to look casual.
Low key jazz played through the speakers inside Starbucks, and the scent of roasted coffee beans filled the air. There were people sitting at tables looking at their phones. An older man in a bow tie held a New York Times paper in front of his face. Two girls with multi-hued hair shared a piece of cheesecake while they laughed, and a businessman stood at the front of the line impatiently, drumming his long fingers on the counter as he waited for his order. Daniel took it all in, wondering whether Jenny was already somewhere inside, watching him.
When he finally made it to the front of the line, Daniel pulled his phone out and checked his messages. There was nothing new, so he slid the phone back into his pocket and stepped up to the counter.
“Coffee with extra half and half and vanilla, please,” he said, pulling out his wallet. The tall, angular man behind the register barely made eye contact with him as he punched the order in.
“Daniel?” Just like that, she was at his elbow. Jenny. Her face was inches from his and he held his wallet dumbly as it flapped open in his hand.
“Hey,” he said, struggling to find his voice. “Hi.”
“Can I order while we’re up here?” She moved in next to him and leaned across the counter to tell the barista what she wanted. Without waiting, Jenny opened her purse and took out a credit card to swipe for both of their drinks. “Find us a table?” she asked, looking him in the eye.
It was in that moment that Daniel was hit by the full force of seeing her. She was acting like they’d just seen each other at school or something, as if thirty years hadn’t passed for her since the last time she’d brushed her elbow against his arm. His nervous stomach flipped and suddenly he realized that in spite of the years and the things that had surely happened in between the time they’d been eighteen together and now, in spite of all that, she was still just Jenny.
“Jenny,” he said out loud, his lips forming the word like a man dying of thirst who’d just seen water. She picked up their drinks and handed his to him, leaning in close and putting her lips against his cheek at the same time. As she did, she took her free hand and put it on his bicep, holding onto him. She paused with her face next to his.
“Hi,” she said quietly, letting the moment live and breathe between them as they stood there. People moved around them, shooting them curious or annoyed looks as they blocked the way to the counter. “I missed you,” she whispered, putting her lips to his cheek again before she pulled back and looked him in the eye. “I really, really missed you.”
It was like a spell had been cast over them as they stood there in the midst of perfect strangers and fancy coffee drinks, and Daniel completely lost the ability to see straight or to care where they were. He had no idea how they might look to other people, and even if he’d been able to consider it, he wouldn’t have cared.
“Let’s sit,” Jenny said, taking him by the elbow and leading him to a small table next to the window. They went about the business of sitting, getting comfortable, and arranging themselves as people rushed by on the sidewalk outside, oblivious to the fact that a time traveller and the woman he loved were reuniting for the first time just feet away from them.
“You look…” Daniel paused. She looked like Jenny. Sure, years had passed. Her dark hair was clearly tinted to maintain its black glossiness, and the small lines around her eyes crinkled as she smiled at him in anticipation. Her lips were the same lips he’d loved to kiss, and her eyes hadn’t changed at all. Not one bit. “You look beautiful,” he finally said, glancing down at the coffee that sat on the table between his hands. “You haven’t changed.”
“Oh!” Jenny laughed. It came out too loud and she put a hand over her mouth. Her eyes danced as she looked at him. “You’re the one who hasn’t changed,” she said, letting her hand fall. They watched each other in silence for a moment. It was a strange feeling to consider the way things had played out for them, because life had handed them each other, but life had also taken that away and they both knew it.
“Tell me how you are. I want to hear everything that’s happened since 1986,” Daniel said, talking to her as he would have had no time passed. Had anyone been listening to their conversation, they would not have seen an eighteen-year-old bo
y acting awkwardly with an older, attractive woman, but a confident young man sitting across from a woman he knew well. Their nerves had simultaneously vanished, and what remained was the same connection they’d always felt in each other’s presence.
“Everything that’s happened since ‘86?” Jenny asked with a huge grin. She lifted her coffee cup and took a sip. “Okay, well, Clinton served two terms in the nineties, and then—”
“No, with you,” Daniel interrupted, reaching out a foot under the table and bumping the toe of his shoe against her black boot. She’d unbelted her lightweight trench coat as they’d sat down, and now she sat there in a thin, black turtleneck, looking at him intensely. “I want to hear about you.”
Jenny’s fingers worked around the lid of her coffee cup. Her eyes shifted and she looked out the window. There was a tangible moment where she weighed her words against their potential outcome.
“I work for a magazine,” she said. “I’m a music journalist.”
“No,” Daniel said, though a sense of pride washed over him and filled him with a warmth unlike anything he’d ever known. “You write about music? That’s your job?”
“I do,” Jenny said with a smile. She tucked her dark hair behind one ear. “I even interviewed Morrissey one time.”
“Stop it. You did not.”
“And I’ve seen everyone in concert,” Jenny said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Depeche Mode.”
“No way.”
“The Cure.”
“You’re killing me!” Daniel tipped his head back as he closed his eyes. He couldn’t even imagine seeing these bands live.
“I’ve had a good run,” Jenny admitted. She normally wasn’t impressed with her own job, but seeing it through his eyes reminded her of how cool it had all been. By recounting it for Daniel, she could actually see herself as an eighteen-year-old again, living with her dad in an under-furnished apartment and dreaming of a more glamorous life than the one she was leading in Westchester in 1986.
If You Were Here Page 25
