Him

“Remember how overwhelmed we were when we first got Penelope?”

“Yeah,” I answered.

“It’s like that but…on steroids. It’s like having fifty Penelopes.

“I can imagine…”

“You barely get any sleep the first few years. The mood swings are crazy. Everything, and I mean – everything, revolves around them. Before you know it, it’s been two days since you had a shower, a week since you washed your hair, eight months since you’ve watched a film. Two years later you ask yourself – who the hell am I, anymore?”

I nodded silently, still driving.

“But at the end of the day, it makes sense. It feels right. It makes you happy. Then it gets better. They grow up a bit and you find the time to find yourself again. To mind other things.”

“I believe you, Nat. No regrets. I didn’t expect anything else.”

“But?”

“But what?” I asked.

“There’s a ‘but’ in there. What do you want to say?”

“Nothing.”

“Jamie – “

“It’s nothing, what do you want me to say?”

“It’s like you understand what I’m saying, but you don’t necessarily agree.”

I was growing irritated and I was driving. Not a good combination. I truly understood her state, her feeling so fulfilled. I got why she decided to do things this way. What I didn’t understand was why she was so clueless as to why I couldn’t share her enthusiasm.

“Of course, I don’t agree, Nat. When looking at it in a vacuum, I’m happy for you, sure. But at the same time, I can’t stop thinking that we had the chance to have that together, but you instead chose not to have that with me. You went back to Theo.”

“But I explained this to you…”

“Yeah, you did. But just because this weird concept works for you, it doesn’t mean it works for me. Listen – we were together. We were happy. Some weird shit happened and as a response to that, you chose to throw it all away for a do-over. You totally embraced this ‘I’m 18 again!’ thing like nothing ever happened between the two of us. Like it didn’t really matter, because you wanted to fix everything from before independently – like you were scared of some weird butterfly effect thing all of a sudden. But not with me. You basically told me – wait your turn, it’s not 2018 yet. Sorry, but I am not able to compartmentalize things like this. I just can’t forget that you exist, that we had something together and that I need to wait for us to align to the original timeline, as if that matters in anyway.

I paused, sighing and drawing my breath.

“Here’s how I see it, Nat. I completely agree with fixing the mistakes of our past, but you don’t get to pick and choose like that – there are things that you were adamant to change, while others you preferred to keep, somehow thinking you’ll end up in the same place, but better, stronger, happier.”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“I will not ask forgiveness for saving my daughter’s life.”

“Maybe we were meant to have a daughter of our own instead, Nat. Ever think about that? Maybe you simply sacrificed one kid for another.”

“Maybe we can still have that. We could still be together, as we were originally.”

“But we’re not the same people that we were – originally. We’ve already changed, Nat. What makes you think that two years from now we’ll just find ourselves in the position to decide that it’s time to start again?”

“It’s what I’m working towards,” she said, tears in her eyes. “You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I believe that you believe it, but I don’t think it’s realistic. Two years from now – will you just decide to leave Theo, put your kids through a breakup – all that in order to suddenly be with someone with whom you haven’t lived in I don’t know how many years? No matter how hard you try to deny it, Nat, the truth is – we’re not the same people. Our bodies may have turned younger again, but our minds didn’t.”

“So you don’t trust me,” she replied.

“I pray and live every day for the strength to trust you and the hope of ending up back together but every day I’m scared that fragile plan will die a painful death.”

She touched my hand:

“You don’t have to be scared. You can trust me - I will make this work!”

“It’s not you that I doubt, Nat. It’s me! Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe in 2018 I will not be there, anymore? You may be there, ready to start again, but I may not. Did that ever occur to you?

“Of course,” she replied. “Every day.”

“So, you still think this was the best decision?”

**

Her

“So, you still think this was the best decision?”

Doubt and fear consumed me at that point. I finally admitted that yes, no matter how naïve I was – I feared losing Jamie for good. I feared that every day.

So how did I live with that? I closed my eyes and could simply see the faces of Kara and Mike – that’s what kept me going. That fear had always been kept under control by my kids. They made everything easier.

“It’s too late to think about whether it was a good decision or not,” I answered after a while. “It’s done. And no matter how many regrets I may have about us, about not saving dad, about everything else – they pale in comparison with having Kara and Mike.”

“I respect that,” said Jamie. “At the same time, you should respect that I disagree and that I think it was a mistake.”

He parked the car.

“Here we are. What do you expect to see?”

“Let’s just go and take a look.”

We got out of the car and walked a few steps until we reached the front of our house back in 2018. It was quiet. It was a Saturday (again), so the whole neighborhood was quiet. We already were quite emotional from our talk from the car. We kept quiet. The whole vibe of that place was peculiar. The air felt…heavy. Electrical. As if the smallest contact would make it react. As if our presence there initiated something. I got scared. I grabbed his hand. I wondered if he could feel it too.

Surprisingly, Jamie was actually quite calm. He did seem to be aware of something, but he didn’t say anything. We just sat there for a few moments – observing.

I began reminiscing that Saturday morning, again. How we got into the car (Jamie’s way less expensive car, at the time), how everything turned to white (or black?) and we suddenly found ourselves in 2012.

I started to ask myself again – what was the meaning behind it? Why did it happen to us? For that and every other question – a mental image of Kara and Mike would pop up in reply.

“Would you return there, right now, given the chance?” he asked.

I looked at him, no reaction on my face.

“Yeah, me neither.”

The wind started blowing. I squeezed his hand, bracing myself, as if something was going to happen. Something big. But nothing happened. It was just the two of us, standing there.

“Hear me out,” I said.

He let my hand go, pulled out a cigarette and ignited it.

“Spring of 2018. I will be ready,” I said.

He smiled bitterly.

“Let’s make it symbolic. The 24th of April, since it’s your birthday, let’s meet here. Let’s try and rekindle everything. Let’s try and see this thing through. We can then sit and decide if it was all worth it.”

He looked back at me for a long while.

“Okay,” he said, blowing some smoke. “I’ll be here.”