TIme After Time

“Son.” Dad draws out the word, nice and slow, like I need more time than usual to process what he’s about to say. “The accident happened yesterday. Do you remember what happened when we got home?”

I try to. I remember returning from the do-over and leaving his office. I walked upstairs, grabbed a postcard from my desk drawer, and stuffed it into my backpack. I closed my eyes and went to the cross country track at Westlake. I hid off the trail, listening to Anna and her teammates speculate about the mysterious postcard. She found me right after that, and we talked. I felt great until the piercing sound brought me facedown into the dirt. And then I was back here in Dad’s office. It all happened fifteen minutes ago, twenty tops.

But it wasn’t twenty minutes ago. It was yesterday.

“I need to know where you’ve been, Bennett. You need to tell me the truth. Why didn’t you come home all night?”

The truth. I look away from him and shake my head. I can’t tell him where I’ve been because I have no idea.

I look right into his eyes. “Dad, I honestly don’t know.”

He looks at me like he isn’t buying it, and lets out a long sigh to make it even clearer. “Don’t lie to me, Bennett. How could you not know where you’ve been for the last twenty-two hours?”

Twenty-two hours? My mouth drops open and I stare at him wide-eyed, shaking my head. I don’t know. I really, truly, in all honesty have no clue where I’ve been.

Dad must be able to tell by the look on my face that I’m telling the truth this time. “You seriously don’t know, do you?”

I shake my head even harder, bring my legs to my chest, and bury my face in my knees. This can’t be happening.

“What happened while I was gone?” I ask without looking up.

He hesitates before speaking, as if he’s weighing his words carefully. “I told your mom everything,” he says quietly, and my head snaps up. “When you hadn’t come back by midnight…” He trails off. I let my head fall into my knees again.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

I lie. “Sitting in my room, working on my report.”

“And then?”

I think about it for a minute, and decide to keep lying. “And then I was trying to peel myself off your carpet.”

I need to get back to Anna and tell her that everything’s okay. I left her standing in the woods, watching me fade away. I promised her I wouldn’t leave like that again. And then it occurs to me. What if I haven’t left at all? What if I’ve been there for the last twenty-two hours and just don’t remember it?

“Look, you did a great thing the other day. You should be proud of yourself.”

“But?” I ask.

“But this is dangerous.” He points down at the bloodstains soaking into the rug. “Bennett, you’re a smart kid and you already know this, but I feel like I have to say it anyway. This is it.” He scoots the ottoman even closer to me. “Whatever is happening to you right now is because of the traveling. You know that, right?”

I stare at him blankly.

“Your mom was right all along. This is too dangerous.”

I inhale slowly, processing his words. Mom’s not the one who was right…I was. I knew all along that I shouldn’t change things. There’s no such thing as second chances, even when they’re deserved.

It felt good after Emma. Even after the fire. There was the nosebleed after I returned from Evanston last time, but I didn’t even think it was connected. Now I can’t account for twenty-two hours of my life and I’m covered in blood; it’s pretty obvious that it is, in fact, all connected. I can use this gift of mine for good, but not without a cost.

“Where’s Mom?” I ask.

“Sleeping. She was up all night. I finally convinced her to get some rest. She’ll be happy to see you home safe.” Dad stands up and brushes some imaginary dust from his pants. “She’s pretty angry at me right now. She thinks I made you do it.”

“Why does she think that?”

He shrugs. “Because I told her I did. Besides, it is my fault. This might have been your idea but I’m the one who pushed you to do it.”

“No you didn’t,” I say, but it doesn’t help. He stares off across the room looking completely deflated.

“Dad?” He looks at me again. I think about my 50-50 grind down the side of the staircase and how I faked my fall at the bottom. I picture the look on that little girl’s face. I remember how hard Dad hugged me when it was all over. “It was really fun.”

“It was pretty incredible wasn’t it?” And there it is: the look I saw on his face when we first returned. He looks triumphant and proud, and I feel emptiness deep in my gut when I wonder if it’s the last time I’ll see this expression. “Actually, I was kind of excited to do it again, but…oh, well.” He shakes his head and rests his hand on my knee. “Thanks for taking me along.” He gives my leg a comforting little shake, and then, for something to do with himself, he reaches past me and grabs the glass off the table. “I’ll go get you some more water. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he’s out of the room, I stand up. My legs still feel wobbly and weak, and I grab on to the side of the chair to steady myself. Just as I’m heading for the door, the glow of the monitor gets my attention, and I feel the urge to see that news story for myself.

I hobble over to the desk, sit down in the leather chair, and reach for the mouse. I start to open a new browser window, but I don’t need to because there’s already one on the screen. It’s a news story from this morning, about a local boy who was last seen at his bus stop but never arrived at school.

Dad wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was looking forward to our next do-over.

He’d already found it.

24

I’m halfway up the stairs when Mom sees me from the top landing. She starts racing down the stairs and I grab the railing. “You’re home.… What happened to you?” She blinks fast, like she’s trying hard to focus.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Bennett!” Her eyes travel from my face to my jeans and back up again.

“It was just a bloody nose.” I stare blankly at my shirt.

“That’s a bloody nose?” She presses her lips together and her chin trembles. “Where have you been all night? Please, just tell me what happened to you.”

She looks at me with this glassy stare, and I can see how hurt she is. There are so many things I’d love to tell her, but I’m in so deep now I don’t even know where to start. When my eyes meet hers, I feel like a five- year-old who just fell off the play structure and needs comfort and reassurance. If I told her everything, I bet she’d give me that.

“Where have you been?” she repeats softly.

“I don’t know, Mom.” My voice cracks when I say it, and I suck in a breath. I can tell from the look on her face that she believes me. But I can also tell that it’s not enough. If I ever want to make it to the top of these stairs, I need to come up with something better.

Mom rests her hand on mine, encouraging me to say more. “I woke up in Dad’s office like this.” I pull my T-shirt away from my body and shake my head. Then I look down at the banister, hesitant to go on, choosing my next words carefully. I’ve never really talked with my mom about what I can do. We always just, sort of, dance around it. But now there’s no other approach than a direct one. “Dad told you what we did, right?” Mom nods. “I must have blacked out afterward.”

She crosses her arms. From the neck down, she looks angry, but her face gives her away. “This whole time?” she asks, and she shakes her head as if she can’t believe she’s asking such a ridiculous question.