The Clay Lion (17 page)

I watched Charlie standing with his team directly
across the pool from where we were seated.  He was smiling and joking with
a small group of boys.  It was interesting to watch him from a distance
and I was reminded of the first time I had seen him from across the vacant lot
during my first trip.  I closed my eyes, grateful for the miracle of
second chances.

The swim meet itself turned out to be
fascinating.  I was eventually able to look past the fact that everyone
around me was practically naked and could concentrate on each individual
race.  Charlie was swimming in five events, which included two relays and
three individual races.  In a word, he was amazing.  Watching him
swim was like watching poetry in motion.  He was flawless, his limbs masterfully
propelling him through the water as though he was more fish than man.  He
qualified in each event, which ensured that he would be swimming the following
night at the final competition.  By the end of the evening, I was left
with but a whisper for a voice, having spent so much energy cheering for
Charlie’s team.

Showered and fully clothed, Charlie found the
four of us waiting in the parking lot for him.  After the immediate hugs
and congratulations, we all piled into the SUV.  Melody and Branson sat on
the center bench and Charlie and I sat in the back.

In the privacy and darkness of the back seat,
Charlie pulled me close, practically sitting me in his lap.  I laid my
head against his chest, exhausted from the excitement of the night.  He
ran his fingers through my hair, brushing my cheek each time.

“You are an amazing swimmer,” I told him.

“It just takes practice,” he said humbly, “like
anything else.”

“No.  You are really good,” I
continued.  “I loved watching you.  Thanks for inviting me.”

“You
are
coming to finals again tomorrow,
right?” he asked.

“Of course,” I replied.  “At least I’ll know
what to expect now!”

“Yeah, it’s a little overwhelming,” Charlie
agreed, assuming I was referring to the swimming portion of the evening.

“No kidding,” I said, laughing at my own inside
joke.

We sat silently, hand in hand, for the remainder
of the drive home, listening to Branson and Melody singing along with the radio
together in the seat in front of us.  As the car pulled into my driveway,
Charlie kissed me gently on the top of the head.

“See
ya
tomorrow,” he
said happily.

I kissed him on the cheek.  “See
ya
tomorrow,” I said.

The final competition was very similar to the
preliminaries.  Branson was working at the hardware store, so I was on my
own for the second night with Mrs. Johnson and Melody.  Even though I
tried to prepare myself mentally for seeing Charlie again in his revealing
racing suit, I still found it difficult to look him in the eye with so many
people around. I spent the entire evening smiling and blushing and trying not
to fixate on imagining Charlie out of his suit all together. 

My favorite events of the meet were the
relays.  Charlie swam in the 4X100 men’s freestyle relay as the anchor leg
and swam butterfly in the 4X100 men’s medley relay.  Watching him compete
with his teammates, cheering them on and using every ounce of strength within
him, I could feel his passion for the sport that he loved.  Not
surprisingly, Charlie placed in all five of his events, and I beamed with pride
alongside his family as he accepted his medals on the podium at the conclusion
of the meet. 

Holding hands as we crossed the parking lot on
the way to the car, a few of Charlie’s teammates approached us.

“Hey Charlie, are you coming to the party Friday
night at Pasta Palace?” a short boy with shaggy brown hair inquired.

“We’re going to do our end-of-the-season
superlatives and give Coach his gift,” a slender, exotic looking girl added.

“Yeah.
 
Sure.  I’ll be there,” he replied.  Then he continued, turning to me,
“Brooke, do you want to come too?” he asked.

“Are we doing team members only?” the girl asked
the brown haired boy.

“I don’t think so,” he responded, shrugging his
shoulders.  “I guess girlfriends can come.”

Charlie smirked slyly at me, evidently pleased with
the newfound knowledge that, according to the members of the swim team, he and
I were official.  I could hardly believe that for the first time ever,
Brooke Wallace had a boyfriend. 

“So, do you want to come?” Charlie asked again.

“Can’t refuse an invitation from my boyfriend,” I
smiled.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
O
NE

As winter progressed, my life fell into a
blissful routine.  There were days that went by that I forgot altogether
that I was not living in the present.  When the realization would creep up
on me that I was, in fact, on borrowed time, I consoled myself with the
knowledge that everything that was happening was resetting my timeline and
would be my new past when I did eventually return to the present.  Branson
would be there, and so would Charlie.

Despite the two and a half year difference in
age, Branson and Charlie had become fast friends.  I found no greater joy
than seeing them together, roughhousing or discussing class assignments. 
On several occasions, I even heard Branson asking Charlie for advice about
Jill.  It warmed my heart to know that Branson looked to him as a
confidant.  And where some girls might have been annoyed at having to
share their boyfriend with their brother, I was relieved that I did not have to
choose to spend time with one over the other. 

On a particularly snowy Sunday afternoon in
January, Branson, Charlie and I were playing video games together in Branson’s
room.  Out of nowhere, Charlie brought up time travel.

“Have you guys ever thought about using your
trip?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah, all the time,” Branson answered.  It
was news to me.

“Oh really?”
I encouraged him, raising an eyebrow. 
“What
for?”

“Nothing specific yet, but I would like to use
mine at some point,” he said.  “I wish it was different though.  I
wish you could go back to whenever, not just in your own life.  There’s so
much history I’d love to witness first hand.  I’m waiting for something
monumental to happen during my life so that I can go back and watch it again,
knowing it’s going to happen, to observe how people react.  Like, wouldn’t
it be cool to go see the moon landing, not for the actual landing itself, but
to see people’s reactions in real time?  Or the fall of the Berlin
Wall? 
Or September 11
^th
?
  I
guess it would be like a sociology study.  Maybe the Mars mission will pan
out soon and I’ll go back to see how that went down.  Or maybe there will
be a gigantic volcanic eruption!”

Charlie and I just stared at him, taking in his
soliloquy.

“You’re a smart kid Branson,” Charlie observed.

“Nah, I just love history,” he said, attempting
humility.  However, the smile on his face revealed the pleasure he took
from Charlie’s unsolicited compliment.

Charlie turned to me.  “What about you
Brooke?”

It took considerable effort to keep from laughing
aloud, given my state of affairs.  Without time to come up with a
plausible response, I decided just to tell the truth.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” I replied.

“Oh really?”
Branson piped up, mimicking my response. 
“What
for?”

“Well,” I began, “I’d use it to save a life if I
had to.”

“That’s against the law Brooke,” Charlie
said.  “You can’t change the past.”

“You can,” I replied smiling, “you just can’t get
caught.”

“Save a life, huh,” Charlie said, clearly deep in
thought.  “Whose life would be worthy of a trip?”

“Yours,” I replied, and then turning towards
Branson, “and yours.”

“That’s a big deal,” Charlie reflected. 
“What if you messed up and ruined everything?  What if it didn’t work and
you made things worse?”

“At least I would have tried,” I said.

“What about fate.  And destiny?” he
continued.

“What about them?” I replied, winking at him as I
climbed onto his lap.  “Maybe I make my own destiny.”

“You can’t change fate Brooke,” he said
seriously, holding me at arm’s length.  Then suddenly, his demeanor
changed, and he pulled me close saying huskily, “However, this is a side of you
I haven’t seen before.  I didn’t have you pegged as a rebel, breaking all
the rules.  It’s kind of sexy.”

There was a cough from the other side of the
room.  “I’m still here guys,” Branson declared.

“Okay,” I said, pulling away from Charlie and
turning to face him head on, “what about you?  Do you have a plan for your
trip?”

He did not speak immediately, as if reflecting upon
the best way to explain what he was about to say.  He scratched at his
forehead and bit on his thumbnail for a few seconds.  At last, he spoke.

“There was a time, when I was smaller, maybe four
or five, that I walked in on my parents having a conversation.  I don’t
know exactly how long I was there before they realized I was listening, but
when they did, they ended their discussion abruptly.  They were talking
about me. 
Something important about when I was born.
 
I’ve tried over the years to bring it up with them again, together and
separately, and neither one will discuss it.  I’ve snooped through files
and broken into locked desk drawers.  I can’t for the life of me figure
out what they were talking about.  Maybe it was nothing.  Maybe it is
better that I don’t know and I should just leave it be.  But my curiosity
about it has never waned.  If no other need arises throughout my life,
before I die, I’d like to go back to hear that conversation.”  He paused
for several moments.  “But I probably never will.”

Both Branson and I were silent, neither one of us
knowing quite what to say in the wake of Charlie’s revelation.

“It’s okay guys.  You asked.  It’s
really no big deal,” Charlie laughed nervously, smiling at me.  “It’s
probably nothing at all.  I was a little kid.  Little kids have huge
imaginations.  Maybe I dreamed the whole thing.  Who knows?”

We were all quiet for a few minutes, none of us
able to make eye contact with one another.

“So let’s recap,” Branson said finally, breaking
the tension. “I am going to do some social experiment and Charlie wants to spy
on his parents.  But Brooke here is
gonna
go all
renegade and become a superhero.”  He looked at Charlie, “We suck dude!”

“We totally suck,” Charlie agreed, smiling
broadly.

“Do you think we should start calling her Brooke
the Bold?” asked Branson.

“How about Brooke the Brave?”
Charlie said, poking me playfully in the
ribs.  “I know!  Let’s get her a superhero
unitard
!”

“With boots!
  And a lasso!” added Branson. 
“But no
capes.
  They can be dangerous.”

“Absolutely no capes.
  But what color scheme should we go with?”

“Okay you two,” I interrupted, “that’s
enough.  I’m hungry.  Do you two want a snack?”

“Yes!” both boys cried.  “I’ll come help
you,” Charlie added.

Charlie followed me down the stairs and into the
kitchen.  I opened the pantry and rooted through the shelves searching for
an appropriate snack for all of us.

“How about popcorn?”
I asked.  “Or I could make pizza bites.”

“Sure, either one,” Charlie replied, sitting
casually on the kitchen counter.  A moment later he added, “I think you
would do it.” 

“Do what?”

“Use your trip to save a life.  It’s so like
you to think with your heart that way, without regard to the consequences.”

“Oh, I would definitely think about the
consequences. 
And what about you?”
I said,
changing the topic quickly, as I pulled the pizza bites from the freezer, “You
think you’re adopted, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered.

Charlie joined me in placing the pizzas on the
cookie tray.  His hand brushed mine and he grabbed it.  Instinctively
I froze.  He pulled me from the snack preparation and drew me to his
chest, as if he needed me close if he was going to be able to say what needed
to be said.

“What did you hear them say,” I probed further.

“I heard them say something about my mother.”

“But your mother was the one talking to your
father.”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” I hesitated.  “I’m sorry Charlie.”