“Of course.” She drives slowly, hands clutching the steering wheel like it’s a life raft on the Titanic and I know she’s lying.
“And don’t act crazy.” I pause, think about the ramifications of her running towards him, screaming like a lunatic, probably begging to bear his child.
Well, that would certainly get me out of having to see him again.
Which would get me out of having to risk my heart with him.
Which would guarantee my emotional and psychological safety.
“You know, maybe do act crazy.” I turn to her as we pull in front of the house. “Just a little bit.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says with a huff. “I can behave like a civilized person when I have to.” She grins, “I just prefer to live a life where I don’t have to.”
She pulls her car next to mine, both shaded by the overhanging boughs of the maple trees on the side of his garage.
“Isn’t this the old Hanson estate?” She peers across me through the passenger side window.
I shrug. “I don’t know. That must have been before I moved here.”
“Huh.” She puts the car in park. “You know I came up here for trick or treating a few times when I was a kid, but it sure looks different now. Did he do a bunch of renovations before he moved out here?”
I shake my head, eyes closed. “I don’t know.” I open my door and turn to her. “Look, he’s not up, so I’m going to grab my car and we’re both going to leave, ok?”
She smiles at me. “No, we’re not.”
“Why not?”
She grins and points past me. “Because he’s standing on the deck.” Before I can stop her, she’s opening her door, waving vigorously and shouting, “Good morning, David! Hope we didn’t wake you!”
17
David
She’s here. And she brought a friend. I glance at the paint-spattered overalls of the driver, the wild curly hair pulled back in a messy bun held together by paintbrushes, and notice the sawdust over her shoes.
“You must be Penelope,” I say as I come down the stairs, coffee mug in hand. I smile at Jane, noticing her wary glance as she slowly extricates herself from the ancient car.
“I am.” The woman walks towards me, eyes bright, grin wide. “How did you know that?”
“Jane told me you made her mailbox. You look like someone who could make a mailbox.”
“Well, thank you!” She grins as she shakes my hand. “I am indeed someone who can make a mailbox. Would you like one too? I can customize it anyway you like.”
“That’s very kind of you,” I see Jane rolling her eyes as she approaches us. “Maybe later. I’m still settling in. Good morning, Jane.” I turn to her, enjoying the soft flush to her cheeks, the dance of sunlight against her hair. I catch the slightest whiff of coconut as she moves closer and have a sudden image of her in the shower, soft and wet and covered in bubbles. I glance down and surreptitiously adjust my stance.
“Good morning,” she says, voice low. “I came to get my car.”
“How did it end up here?” Penelope asks, eyes between us. “What did you two kids get up to last night?” There’s a twinkle in her eye and I suspect she has a very good idea what we two kids got up to last night.
Well, almost.
“Penelope-”
“We went out to eat. Had a bit to drink. So I walked her home.”
“Ah,” Penelope nods slightly, glancing at Jane, as if she just figured out the answer to challenging equation. “You were drunk.”
“I was not drunk,” Jane glares at her friend. “I was modestly under the influence.”
“We both were,” I grin. “Would you like to come in? I have coffee.”
“Yes!”
“No.”
Both women speak at the same time, glance at each other.
I smile again. “Come on in. I ordered some cups and they arrived yesterday. It’ll give me a chance to use them.”
They follow me into the house. One significantly more enthusiastic than the other.
The coffee is fresh and I pour two more cups. I take the milk out of the fridge, and offer sugar, but both refuse.
Penelope stares at me over her coffee cup.
“You look like you want to ask me a question, Penelope.” I put my mug on the counter and gesture with my hand. “Go nuts.”
She nods, takes a sip and places her cup on the counter as well. “I have two questions, actually.”
Jane shoots a warning look at her friend.
“Ok. Shoot.” I lean forward, my forearms on the counter, and wink at Jane.
She crosses her arms and pins me with a pair of intimidatingly steely eyes. “In the first Saviors of Space film, your character ingests a super-serum that allows him to develop time-traveling properties.”
I nod.
“But in the second film, the quantum-time continuum that’s created by Dr. Oxblood seems to operate with the same multi-dimensional shifting capacity.”
I nod, more slowly this time. To be honest, most of the faux-science behind the films never made much sense to me.
“What are you asking?” Jane sips her coffee.
“My question is: According to the world-building of the Saviors of Space universe, and the scientific principles underpinning both time travel and quantum space-time theory…”
Jane and I glance at each other.
“…It would seem that multi-dimensional shifting and time-travel are the same phenomenon.”
I nod once, very slowly. She’s losing me quickly.
“But if that’s the case, why didn’t you destroy the quantum-time continuum using the super-serum? If both are essentially the same, but one is designed to ruin mankind and the other to save it, wouldn’t it make sense to get rid of the bad one?”
Jane turns to me, eyebrows raised, and smiles. “It’s a fair question, David. Why didn’t you destroy the quantum-time continuum using the super-serum?”
I shake my head. “Well,” I turn to Penelope, “I didn’t write the script, so I was not in control of my character’s actions.”
Penelope frowns, “But-”
“And I think the real answer, to be honest,” I smile, “is that, what you’re suggesting would radically shrink the size of the narrative. And
