Tempus (11 page)

I tried to recall more of the dream, but all of it was fuzzy.  I remembered the kiss.  I felt tingly thinking about it.  I closed my eyes and could feel it, as if it had been real.  My crazy brain.  Maybe that’s how brains worked, but my conscience knew better.  With my eyes closed, though, I could blur the line between reality and my dream just enough, enough to want to keep my eyes closed a little while longer.  I don’t know how long I sat there, trying to recall other details.  The kiss, it was always
the kiss
my mind returned to.

I opened my eyes, feeling that same breathless feeling.  If that were only from my imagination, and unfortunately, it
was
, then my imagination was good.  It was probably foolish, wasting time on impossibilities.  No, it definitely
was
foolish.  I got up and walked over to the mirror.  “I wish you were in there.” 

I put my hands on it; saw the room I remembered last.  I could see it clearly, almost like looking in a window.  My eyes searched the room, once again looking for a clue, something concrete to give me a time period.  I could see the books on the bookshelves more clearly this time.  They were too far away for me to read the binding.  Some of them looked extremely old.  Others looked old, but not worn.

The books that had been on the desk were no longer there.  The room was different, as if time had passed since I last saw it.  I strained to recall what it had looked like before, to recognize objects I had seen in the dark.  I could tell there were more things that were different, I just didn’t know what.  I wanted to grab my notebook, to compare the drawing I had made of the room to what I was seeing, but if I let go…

I tried to take a mental picture of the room.  I concentrated very hard, especially on things that might be moved, smaller things.  When I thought I had enough, I let go and raced to the notebook, flipping back a few pages to the sketch of the room.  I knew it!

The globe was missing from the desk, the book or journal or whatever it was that had been open on the desk was closed now.  The books on the corner were gone.  There were more holes in the bookshelf, from missing books.  There was a coat or something now on the back of the chair in the right corner.  There were several things definitely different.  I made notes below the sketch and put the date.

I was going to check the mirror every day.  I was going to see something, eventually, I was certain.  Though it wasn’t always true, there were usually people, or a person, in my glimpses.  There were always people when it was an object that gave me more than one glimpse, like with Mary.  Mary was
always
with the hansom cab.  I didn’t always get glimpses from it, and they changed sometimes when I did, but Mary was there, every time.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand.  It was blinking, so I hurried to check my message.  It was from Steve.  “We’re all set.  Call me on this number later.”

Steve!  Julie!
  What time was it?  I was supposed to call Julies Aunt, she was going to come by and pick me up so we could go meet Julie at the airport!  My fingers flew dialing the number.  I
had
to set up speed dial later.

The phone rang a couple of times before she answered.  The second I heard her voice I said, “Auntie!  I was supposed to call you and tell you Julies' flight was going to be earlier than we thought!  You’ve got to come get me now, or go straight to the airport from your house if it’s going to take a little while!”

“I can’t leave right now; I have something in the oven.  It’ll be out in twenty minutes and I can come get you.”

“No, you won’t have time.  You’ll have time to go straight to the airport, though.”  This sucked.  I wasn’t going to be at the airport when Julie landed.  I promised her I would be there.

“Okay, sweetie, we’ll just have to swing by and pick you up afterwards.  See you then.” She hung up.

Julies Auntie wasn’t much for talking on the phone.  She was a firm believer in saying what had to be said, then getting off as fast as possible.  She rarely even said goodbye, she just said what she had to say and was gone.  It took getting used to. 

Well, now I had at least forty-five minutes or more to kill before they got here.  What was I doing before?  The mirror.  I looked around, spotted my notebook, and picked it back up.  I made a sound of annoyance.  I wanted to sketch the blue-eyed boy.  Was that a bad thing? 

I flipped the book open and found him in the pages.  I sighed, a deep, deep breath.  There was something about his face, something about those eyes—even on lifeless paper, they made me tingle.  I decided to work on the portrait I had promised myself to draw.  I closed the notebook and left it on my bed—I could work from memory.

I gathered my supplies and went to the desk in my library.  It didn’t take long to be engrossed in my work.  I wasn’t sure how long I had been at it, but the portrait was coming along nicely.  I was working faster than I would have liked, but I wanted it finished before Julie and Auntie got here.  I was working on the hair when I thought I heard a noise.  It sounded like someone was in my room.

I sat very still and listened.  I didn’t hear another sound after a while, so I must have imagined it.  I finished the hair, and called it done, for now.  This one was much better, his face almost life sized on the paper, and I could imagine I was looking directly into those deep blue eyes.  I had drawn him as I remembered, a lock of black hair falling over one eye.  The more I looked, the more I wanted to sweep it away from his eye, mainly so I could just touch him.  I was officially crazy.

I grabbed the portrait off the desk and went back to my room.  I intended to place it in the notebook on my bed.  When I walked through the door my eyes saw it instantly—the notebook,
open
.  I glanced around hurriedly, but nothing else was out of place.  I slowly approached my bed, I was certain I had closed it.  I
remembered
closing it. 

I could see the page that it was open to, even from this distance.  There were two columns, one much longer than the other.  Something looked wrong.  I approached slowly, staring at the bottom of the shortest column.  I had written there, and then scribbled it out.  There was something below that.

Someone
had written there, with my pencil, and erased it.  They had pressed down hard enough that the words were still visible, indented in the paper.  I sat on my bed and picked up the notebook, looking closely at the erased line.  It was not
my
handwriting.  It was a fine script, two simple words.

Too Old

Regret for wasted time is more wasted time.

—Mason Cooley

Simultaneously, somebody knocked on the door downstairs, my phone rang, and someone yelled my name. 
Julie
!  I shoved the portrait in the notebook, shoved the notebook under my pillow, and answered my phone.

“I’m in the bathroom; wait for me in the car.”  I hung up, grabbed the clothes off the end of my bed, and changed as swiftly as humanly possible.  I checked myself in the mirror and flew down the stairs, mentally checking off a list of things, making sure I didn’t forget anything.  Maybe if I ran, I wouldn’t have time to freak out.

Julie didn’t wait in the car.  She was standing on the porch by the door, and when I flew out, I nearly ran her over.  I was able to stop before a
full
collision, but we collided anyway, by choice.  We instantly grabbed each other, squeezed, and squealed with joy!  Julie had been my best friend for
ever
, and I loved her like a sister.  No,
more
than a sister, because sisters sometimes fight.

Julie was a good four inches taller than I was, and in appearance, we were opposites.  She had long, curly blonde hair, a porcelain complexion, and hazel eyes.  She always wore pastels in soft, elegant, feminine fabrics.  Her phone was hot pink, and she carried it in a tiny matching hot pink purse.  The best word to describe her? 
Lovely
, inside and out.

Arm in arm we strolled to her Aunties silver Camry and climbed in the back.  The instant the door clicked shut we were backing out of the driveway.  Julie and I talked continuously, barely taking time to breath, all the way to Aunties house.  The incessant chattering didn’t cease when we arrived, either, only slowed slightly as we unloaded the two suitcases from the trunk and checked the back seat for anything left behind.

Once inside, we rushed to Julies' room and flung the suitcases into the corner.  We faced each other, grinned, and hugged again.  I had so much I wanted to tell her.  Some things she would get every juicy detail of, but others—I wanted to talk to her so bad, but I just couldn’t.

I was being pulled onto the edge of the bed.  I complied and seated myself.  Julies' eyes were sparkling with excitement.  “
Well
?” she prompted.

I opened the floodgates, then.  I told her everything I had already told her, everything I had forgotten or hadn’t had time to tell her, and everything that had happened since we talked last night. 
Mostly
everything.  We flopped back, side by side, staring at the ceiling, our legs swinging off the end of the bed.

“So, are you gonna do it?  Are you gonna actually
date
Steve?”  She didn’t look at me while she asked.

“I don’t know.  Maybe.”  I didn’t look at her either.

“He’s really, really good-looking.”  She offered.

“I know.  Believe me, I know.”  I sighed.

“He said he was sorry.”  She added.

“I know that, too.”

“Do you believe him?  Do you think he was telling the truth about everything?”  She rolled over on her side to face me, propping her head up with her elbow on the bed.

I rolled over to face her, “Yes.  I believe everything he said was true.”  I looked down at the eyelet duvet cover and played with it with my fingers, frowning.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, you can ask me
anything
, you know that!”  She watched me attentively.

“Do you think there is something wrong with me?  I mean, when it comes to guys, you know.  I always find something wrong with them, even if I have to make it up, according to you and Katie anyway.”

She sat up abruptly.  “No!  I don’t think that at all!  That’s just
you
, you know what you want and don’t want.  There’s nothing
wrong
with that!”  She grabbed my hand and squeezed it.  “Hey, you remember when I dated Ronnie?”

Oh, yes, I remembered Ronnie.  He was such a weasel, and on his best day and her worst, he wouldn’t come close to being good enough for Julie.  Total jerk, piece of crap.  I would have removed his head from his body if it weren’t illegal, after the way he had treated her.  Thinking about it now, I’d still be glad to do it.  My face gave away my thoughts.

“Yeah, me too.”  She said, though I hadn’t said a word.  “I was so crazy about him, and you tried to tell me what a—well,
you know
.  But I didn’t listen.  I didn’t listen because sometimes he could be so sweet, he always said he was sorry.  In my heart, I knew nothing would ever change, but I kept hoping it would.  That’s the difference.  I let him break my heart three times a week for six months.  God, I was stupid.  But you, you saw right through him from the first day.  That’s what I’m talking about.  And if it had been you, you’d have gotten rid of him after the first date, if you even went out with him in the first place.”

I thought about that for a moment.  “But that’s different, he was a jerk.  I’m talking about guys that are decent,
good
guys.  Guys I broke up with because they walked funny or stupid reasons like that.  That’s just not normal.  I even feel bad sometimes.  I mean, well, they went on and dated other people and were happy and all that.  It’s not like I ever
destroyed
anyone.”  I laughed a self-depreciating laugh.  “But still, it wasn’t nice.  Was it?  It’s better than letting someone drive you crazy until you snap and get mean, right?  That was what I told myself.”

“I think you were right.  It’s not normal, but high school would be a lot easier if everybody was more like you.  Oh, god, remember Kellie when her and Pat split up?  I wanted to stuff a gym sock in her mouth!  ‘
I’m just going to die, you don’t understand.  I love him so much I can’t breathe.  I’m going to die, I swear!’
Gag!” She did a perfect imitation of Kellies' whiney despair.

We continued to talk until Auntie Anne called us to come eat a slice of Julie’s welcome home cake.  Auntie Anne.  It was just easier to call her Auntie and leave it at that. 

After we stuffed ourselves on lemon cake, we decided to stroll to the square and pop into some of the shops.  I knew one of the reasons Julie was determined to go
now
was because she wanted to see Steve and me in the same room.  She was especially intuitive when it came to
other
peoples relationships.  Wish she could apply that same intuitiveness to herself more.  She had a knack for finding broken people and trying to fix them.  I sometimes thought that must be why we became friends—I felt broken sometimes.

She never mentioned Steve as we walked, instead telling me about her time with her dad.  We stopped at a few small shops, darting inside and out hastily.  After only four shops, Julie turned to me and said, “We should go see your dad
now
!  I haven’t seen him all summer!”  Subtlety was not Julies' strong suit.  She turned to cross the street before I could answer one way or the other.