by Shawn Inmon
“Hello,” he said, turning to face her. “I’m Joe. Joe Hart.”
Oh! Oh, you poor boy.
The entire left side of Joe’s face was covered in a reddish-purple birthmark that extended from his forehead, across his nose, and all the way down to his chin.
His eyes acknowledged that it was normal for her to have a reaction to seeing him, but he didn’t mention it beyond that.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Veronica McAllister.”
“Do you have a group meeting here next? I know my time is almost up. What are you guys? Book club?”
Veronica shook her head, feeling like she was in a dream.
“Ma’am? Are you all right?”
“I think I need to sit down.”
Joe jumped up and hurried around the table with another straight-back library chair. “Here, here. Sit down.”
When Veronica was settled, Joe returned to his side of the table and began to pack up his few belongings to leave. When he had everything neatly stacked, he looked up at Veronica and said, “Wait. I assumed you were here for another meeting, because I’ve been sitting her once a week for months, and no one else has ever shown up. You don’t remember any of those things on the sign out there, do you?”
Veronica nodded, but had difficulty gathering her thoughts. Finally, she said, “Google. Search engine. Amazon. The everything store. Apple computers, and Starbucks coffee. But, how?”
Joe’s eyes lit up, and he jumped out of his chair so fast that it tipped over behind him. He pumped his fist like he hit a game-winning home run, then leaned across the table. He stared intently into Veronica’s eyes.
“Hello, fellow time traveler.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Sorry. That sounded cheesy, didn’t it?” Joe said. “Like a line out of an old B movie or something. I should have had a smoke machine, or lasers, or something. I’ve been sitting her so long, I’d kind of given up on anyone like you coming in.”
“So, you’re like me, then? You...“ Veronica paused, looking for a polite way to say “died,” then went on, “passed away, then woke up back in your younger self?”
“I can tell you’re the real deal, because that’s exactly what happened. I died,” he said, without elaborating, “then woke up when I was nineteen years old again.” He looked Veronica over. “How old were you when you died and then woke up?”
“I was seventy-eight years old when I died, eighteen when I woke up. As you can see, I’m not that young anymore. I’ve been living this life for twenty years now, not that I’m doing a great job of it. But, how many lives is this for you?”
“How many lives?” Joe asked. “What do you mean?” He snapped his fingers. “You mean, if you die again in this life, you just start over somewhere again?”
“Apparently. At least, I did. Not somewhere, though. The exact same place.”
“Holy Toledo. Like a save point in a video game. So, if I ran into traffic and got hit by a bus, I’d wake up where I did this time?”
“As far as I know, but I took that route once, and I don’t recommend it. Those few minutes between being run over and starting over are extremely painful.”
“How many times have you, umm, started over?”
“Twice. I’m about to make it three, though. See if my luck holds.”
“Why?”
Veronica shook her head. “We obviously have a lot in common, but there are things I don’t feel like talking about.”
“I can respect that.”
“My best advice is, don’t count on things staying the same. Just because someone died in one time frame, doesn’t mean they’ll do the same this life. Everything changes.”
Joe nodded. “I haven’t been back here that long, but I’ve already noticed that things change. In fact, that’s what I’m trying to do—change things. There are a lot of things I saw in my lifetime that I would have liked to change, and now, maybe I can.”
“You mean things in your own life, or ... “
“Both. I mean, I’ve already changed some things in my own life, but there are other things that I’d like to fix, too.”
Well, that’s interesting. Am I too self-centered? Here I’ve been worried about myself, instead of what’s going on in the world. But, then. But. Then. Veronica pictured huge happenings like JFK’s assassination, or Martin Luther King’s. What could I do, one single woman, to change a situation like that. I admit, that would scare me to death. I can’t even get my own life together, let alone try and change history.
“I wish you luck with that, Joe. I mean it.”
“It would be interesting to have someone else with me, helping me. Right now, there’s no one else I can talk to. I literally don’t have a friend in the world.”
Veronica shook her head. “I don’t have the strength. But, if I wandered by and saw your sign, maybe someone else will, too. For all I know, Middle Falls is crawling with time travelers.”
Joe cleared his throat. “Have you, umm, you know, made yourself rich? It’s not as easy as everyone would think, is it?”
“No, I haven’t. And you’re right, it’s not all that easy.”
“I suppose, though, if you are able to go back again and again, you could figure it out. My problem is, I never paid any attention to the stock market, so I don’t know what to buy. I suppose I could buy land where Microsoft will eventually build their campus in Redmond, but that takes a lot of money to get started. But, if what you say is true and we start over again, a little bit of research now could go a long way when we were back there again.”
That’s true. A little study these next few days could do wonders when I get back to 1958.
“It could,” Veronica said, smiling. “You’ve given me an idea. Thank you. I hadn’t figured it out. Just because I know Apple is going to build the iPhone, or that Blu-Rays are coming, doesn’t mean I have any idea how to build them. I’m not a technical person.”
Something about Veronica’s mention of Blu Ray players brought Joe up short. “You don’t have to answer, but how far did you make it in your first life? What year was it?”
“2018.”
“Oh, wow. 2018. That seems like an undiscovered future to me.”
These conversations feel so delicate. He doesn’t seem like the type to be offended, but still.
“How far did you make it, Joe?”
“Only to 2004. I’m guessing we probably didn’t get the long-promised flying cars by 2018, then?”
Veronica smiled and shook her head. “No. I’m sure there were lots of interesting developments those last fifteen years or so, but I was tuned out. I had retired, and was barely eking out my day to day survival. Not much fun.”
“You know, it’s hard to stand here, looking at you, still young and beautiful, and think of you as an old retiree, getting by on social security.”
Veronica’s cheeks reddened a touch. Young and beautiful? I’m old enough to be your mother.
“I’d say that none of us that are walking this particular path are what we seem at first glance.”
Joe nodded to himself. “You haven’t met anyone else like us, then?”
“No. Honestly, I’d never even considered it. I thought this was just my own personal heaven or hell, whichever I manage to make of it.”
Joe stared at Veronica intently. “I wish you’d change your mind. It’s been lonely.”
An image of her childhood home, standing empty and cold, popped into her mind. It was followed by the picture of that same home in 1958, smelling like her father’s pipe, her mother’s cooking, and the sense of life that had always filled the house.
“Thank you, Joe. You are very sweet. But I’ve got to go.”
Veronica stood and hurried out of the room, the library, the parking lot.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The next few days, which had stretched out in front of Veronica like a jail sentence, became busy. On her way home from the library, she pulled into the local branch of a national investment firm.
She walked into their office, filled with glass, brass, and thick carpeting, and was greeted by a pretty young woman sitting behind a reception desk.
“Hello,” Veronica said. “Can I ask who is the most junior investment person here?”
The young woman opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. “Did you say most junior person? People usually ask for Charles Schwab himself.”
“Yes. Well, that’s not what I’m looking for. I would like to find someone who is just getting established, and I would like to pay him to do some research for me.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t need to pay him. We provide free research and advice to all our clients.” She glanced down at an office roster and ran her finger down it, all the way to the bottom. “I think you’re looking for Todd. Todd Bellamy.”
“Yes. Todd will be perfect. Is he tied up at the moment?”
The young woman smiled. “No, he’s not. He’s available. Can I tell him who would like to see him?”
“Of course. Veronica McAllister.”
The woman picked her phone up, punched a button, and said, “Todd? Ms. McAllister is here to see you.”
Ten seconds later, a young man came bustling down the hall, full of curiosity and nervous energy.
I’m going to guess he doesn’t get summoned to the front desk too often.
“Hello, I’m Todd Bellamy. Would you like to come back to my office?” He led Veronica partway down the hall and into a small office that was one step above a cubicle.
Todd squeezed in behind a junior executive’s desk and indicated the chair on the other side.
Veronica slid in, and said, “I need you to do some research for me.”
“Of course,” Todd said, “Research and investment advice is what we—“
Veronica held her hand up. “I’m sorry, I don’t have much time. Please allow me to tell you what I need.”
“Of course, of course!” Todd said, pulling a legal tablet out of a drawer and uncapping a pen. “How can I help you?”
“I want you to pick one single stock that is the best possible investment for each year between 1958 and 1975.”
Todd sat back in his chair, non-plussed. “I’m sorry?”
“Here’s the scenario. If you had one thousand dollars to invest in each year between 1958 and 1975, knowing everything you know now, what would you invest in each year. One single stock only.”
Todd pushed his hand through his already-thinning blond hair. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t expect you to. I know this is an unusual request, and it will take up some of your valuable time.” Veronica reached into her purse, pulled out an envelope, and laid it on the desk. “I’m sure you normally work on a commission of some sort. I won’t be investing at this time, so I’d like to give you this to do the research for me.”
Todd tentatively reached across the desk, opened the envelope and gaped. He riffled through the bills, and said, in a quiet voice. “There’s a thousand dollars here.”
“Yes. I’d like to be able to stop back by and get that list tomorrow, which I know is a bit of a rush. Could you manage that?”
“Of—of course. Yes.” He wrote 1958-1975. One stock per year. On his pad. “Just to verify. You want to know the stock that would have performed the best within that single year. Not what would have necessarily performed the best beyond that.”
“Excellent question. If you could add a date when each date could have been optimally sold off, that would be very helpful.”
“I’ll have this ready for you by close of business tomorrow.”
VERONICA RETURNED HOME, and immediately couldn’t stand the way her footsteps echoed in the empty house. She called Ruthie. “What are you doing?”
“What I’m always doing when I’m not hanging out with you—nothing.”
“Good. I’ll be there in five minutes. Get your shoes and bra on.”
“I’ll have my shoes on. No promises beyond that.”
Veronica pulled up in front of Ruthie’s house to find her sitting on her front porch. She ran out to Veronica’s car and climbed in. “Heya, chickie. What’s up?”
“I had this insane craving to go to Artie’s, but it’s been closed for years now, so we’ll have to hit somewhere else. Have you eaten yet?”
Ruthie shook her head.
“Then off we go.”
Just for nostalgia’s sake, she drove the strip and by Artie’s, even though she knew it was closed. Zimm died of a heart attack, standing right behind the counter, like he always said he would. Now, it looks so sad and deserted. But, for me, very soon, it will be the same as it always was—fun, vibrant, and delicious. And, Zimm will be there, too. I can see where this restarting could get addictive.
She turned around in Artie’s parking lot and said, “Let’s hit that new Italian place over by the freeway.”
She reached out, grabbed Ruthie’s hand and held it tight. I’d say I’m going to miss you, but I’ll be seeing you again soon, too.
The new Italian place turned out to be just that—new. That was about all it had to recommend it, and they both wished they had gone to Verrazano’s instead. Newer isn’t always better. In fact, it’s usually not.
The food was a little bland, but the company was good, and she and Ruthie chatted about everything and nothing, just like they always did.
The waitress laid a bill for $12.65 on the table.
Ruthie turned it toward her and her eyebrows shot up. “Holy heck! Twelve bucks for a couple plates of spaghetti and two Cokes? Inflation is crazy these days. Did I tell you I had to pay ninety cents a gallon to fill up yesterday? That’s insane.”
Veronica nodded, laid a twenty dollar bill on the table, and said, “Let’s go.”
“Did you tip that girl eight dollars?”
“Not quite, but close. That’ll make her whole shift. What else can I do with that money that will make someone so happy?”
“Good point.”
As soon as they got back in Veronica’s car, she said, “I want to talk with you.”
“Am I in trouble, Mom?”
Veronica smiled, shook her head, and said, “I know this life hasn’t been great.”
But let’s be honest. You don’t have the options I do. Or, at least I don’t think you do. After meeting Joe at the library, I can’t be so sure.
“But, you’ve got to get out there a little more. You’re still young. You’re beautiful. I want you to promise me you’re not going to disappear into your mom’s house and pull the sidewalk in after you.”
“How can I, when you’re always asking me to go somewhere?”
“Even if I wasn’t here, you should go and do it on your own. Right?”
Ruthie nodded, but not vigorously.
“I haven’t asked you for too much, have I?”
“You asked me to forgive you for ignoring me all those years in high school.”
“You’ve got a memory like an elephant. You’re right. I did. I think I should get a new request every twenty years, though. And here’s what I want. I want you to promise me you’re going to get up and at ‘em.”
“I swear, you are my mother today.”
“It’s what she would want for you too, and you know it.”
Ruthie looked at her feet for a long moment. Finally, she raised her chin, took a deep breath, and said, “You’re right. I feel like I never got my legs under me after Dad died, and then when Mom died, too, I kind of lost any motivation.”
And now, you’re going to miss me, too. I’m sorry, Ruthie. I love you.
“But, I know you’re right. I need to quit making excuses and figure out what I want to do.” She turned to look at Veronica. “Is it crazy that I kind of want to go back to school? I think I can swing it, if I can find a part-time job.”
“No, that’s not crazy. That’s wonderful. That’s a great idea. What do you want to study?”
“I’ve always wanted to study nursing. I like helping people.”
“I think that’s
perfect for you. You are such a gentle, caring person. I’m so glad you came out with me tonight. I love you, Ruthie.”
So glad I had a chance to say good-bye.
THE WEEK AFTER WALLACE and Doris McAllister had died, Veronica had gone to Dr. Graham and told him she was having a hard time sleeping.
“Perfectly understandable,” he had said, writing her a prescription for Seconal. “That’s got two refills on it. If you’re still having a hard time sleeping then, come see me.”
Veronica had waited the minimal amount of time she could, then gone in for the second refill.
Now, two days after that dinner with Ruthie, she sat on the twin bed in her old childhood room, with sixty Seconals spread out in front of her.
She had spent the previous two days memorizing the list that Todd had given her. She felt sure she would remember them long enough to write them down when she woke up. She had collected the will from her attorney, signed it, and brought a copy of it home with her. It sat next to the small mountain of pills.
Damn it. I hate swallowing pills.
She considered writing a note to Ruthie, but decided to leave things where they were.
That’s as good an ending with her as I can hope for.
She looked at the small mountain of pills in front of her.
That’s it, then. I’ve done everything I can to make sure I have a good life next time around.
One by one, she swallowed the pills.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Veronica McAllister opened her eyes. A paperback book slipped off her lap, and she caught it before it hit the floor.
Here I am again. Another chance. This time, I think I’m ready.
She stood up from the low-slung orange couch, smoothed out her skirt, and walked into the kitchen. She opened drawers until she found a notepad and pen. She tore a sheet off, laid it on the counter, and began to write. She wrote down every stock Todd had found for her in 1979. She jotted a date afterward –the optimal sell date for each stock. Five minutes later, she was done, relieved she could let the information slip out of her mind.
