[https://i.postimg.cc/cCxYHKmN/The-Girl-who-could-taste-time.gif]
[https://i.postimg.cc/8P0LJXjp/Hi-my-name-is-Alice-1996.png]
It was Alice's turn to speak. She looked around the circle. She knew each face present. They were all of them grim and silent. None of them, like her, wanted to be here. This was a meeting for anger management, a bunch of misfits who were always angry. Grown-up adults sitten in a chair, forming a circle. The room smelled stale from lack of ventilation. It had been used as a gymnasium until recently when some new school building was built in another part of town. Now it stood empty except twice a week for angry, frustrated adults. And she was one of them.
'Hi, my name is Alice.'
'Hi, Alice'; replied everyone in unison.
'Today, I came back from my doctor, and it finally seems I beat cancer. I am cancer free.'
Everyone clapped and congratulated her. She proceeded:'But I'm still pissed. I'm so angry. And I'm angry at myself for being angry. I shouldn't be complaining. I'm one of the lucky ones, right? I had a fantastic childhood. My parents were loving and caring. And supporting, well, as long I was healthy. As a teen, I was an A in all my grades, I was popular, and I was loved. I had him. My high-school sweetheart. Isn't what it would be called today? If he were still alive, we probably would be married by now or divorced.'
A few people laughed at the last comment.
'I won't ever know. Day was special. He was my best friend. He was handsome, funny, laid back and a genius in his…, field. I loved him, I envied him, and I couldn't wait to build a life with him. And it was taken away from me, in front of my eyes. I saw him die. I didn't even have time to say something cheesy like in the movies. It took me a while to get out of that pit. Huge fucking pit. Then came cancer, that shit was hard. Anyone, especially my parents, suddenly had a perfect marriage torn apart. Until this day, I believe they think it is my fault. I graduated, got my dream job, and dated, and every time I wonder if all those achievements are because I'm the cute girl with cancer. It fucking annoys me. So today, I came back from my appointment, and it was gone. I'm no longer the cancer girl. I'm not sure what I am today.'
'Do you think that perhaps you need to forgive yourself, to give yourself time to heal your heart?'; the counsellor, a half-bald man with a green cardigan, interrupted her with what she considered the most stupid question ever.
'What the fuck! Forgive me of what? That a truck smashed my boyfriend's body until nothing was left? His fucking funeral had a closed casket, for fuck sake. Forgive me for what? To want to live? Is it not my fault my parents couldn't manage to have a sick kid? Why the fuck should I forgive myself? That comment itself just makes me angry. Why should I be sorry just to exist?'
She felt her blood boiling inside her veins. Her fists clenched up tightly. 'Is not my fault if everyone can't handle their stupid shit!'
The group went quiet. No one dared talk. But Alice wasn't finished yet. A vein pulsed in her forehead. She was going to let loose everything she had held deep down since the accident:
'I hate everyone. Because no one is him. Do you think I wanted my bitter mum to hold my hand while doing radiation? No, I wanted Day! I wanted Day to look at me when I did my graduation speech. When I fucked the first time, I didn't want that guy that I can't even remember the name. I wanted Day. I don't want to be here! I want to be with him! He was 23 at the time. He would be 33 now. And I am 30, and I still want him. I am angry because I lost him. I lost the love of my life. And I might be wrong. Maybe he would end up as an asshole. I don't know. I don't know! It was taken away from me. So, I'm sorry. I have nothing to forgive myself. I have every fucking right to be angry! I want to be angry. Otherwise, I will just be sad.'
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There was silence. Some tears ran down Alice's cheeks. Some of the others stared at her, recognising the pain. One woman put her arm on her shoulder and whispered something into her ear, which she pretended to hear but really ignored. 'And, you there with your phone, you are really pissing me off!'
On the other side of the room, a man with long hair completely ignored her and was playing on his phone. He felt everyone's gaze weighing on him and slowly lifted his yellow-golden eyes into her direction: 'I don't need to look at you to hear you. And I agree.'
Alice's face went red: 'What?'
The man put his phone in his jacket pocket and faced her:'You are right. People are idiots, especially when they don't understand the feeling of having lost. Not something that is expected, like parents or grandparents, but on people we seed a future with. Those are hard because there is no goodbye or closure. And it isn't your fault. You're right. You didn't push him in front of the truck. You miss him. That is an excellent reason to be pissed. I know I am.'
He smiled at her and looked at his watch: 'I think we are done for today, isn't it right, Mr Counsellor?'
'Hum, yes, but, hum…, is Matt, my name is Matt.'; the man tried to speak, but everyone was already standing up and leaving the gym.
'Who cares? Nobody is saving the world today.'; and he stood up, following the group to the exit.
Alice saw him in front of the building, with an unlit cigarette hanging on his lips, searching in each pocket of his jacket, vest and pants. She dug quickly in her purse and, with a firelighter, approached him: 'Maybe I can help?'
'Oh, you again. That is unexpected for an ex-cancer girl.'; he accepted the lighter, puffed on the fag, exhaled a long line of smoke and returned it to her: 'Thanks, see you next week, I guess.'
[https://i.postimg.cc/3x0mgjvg/2.png]
He was not really looking at Alice or anything else. Alice, from closer, could see his eyes dung into heavy black circles. He had very straight lines that gave him a stern expression, yet he was very attractive. His silked black hair was unusually long, hiding his face. But the most impressive was the colour of his eyes, so striking gold. She was not used to men nowadays dressing so formally on their day-to-day. He was wearing a suit with a vest and could notice his tie hanging out of his pocket. The clothes were clean but old-fashioned, which added even a more je-ne-sais-quoi.
'Are you waiting for someone?'; she asked.
'Aren't we all.'
'I was thinking of going for a drink. Want to join me?'
He looked at her curiously as if noticing something strange about her appearance, then shook his head: 'Are you trying to get me to hook up with you?'
'Oh wow, you are direct.'
'Yeah, I am. Look, Annie...'
'Alice.'; she interrupted.
'Right. Look, Alice, you seem nice, pretty and all, but I am not interested.'; he dropped the fag to the ground and stepped on it: 'So good luck to you, and as I said, see you next week.' He turned away before she could reply.
This is the story of how Alice met her future husband, the Time Traveller, Eske Schrodinger, the boy who could no longer hear numbers.
[https://i.postimg.cc/6q9LFb4w/The-Girl-who-could-taste-time-2.gif]