Restless Heart

I sat at a table by myself at lunch. Not that I wanted to be anti-social, it was just that I must have had a glazed-eye look, and it probably freaked people out a bit, so in what probably looked like a variation of the parting of the Red Sea, the student body steered clear of me. I would have probably wanted to avoid myself as well as I stared blankly at my brown-bagged lunch and the watery ring of where my soda sat just a bit earlier…a soda that was now missing.
“Hey, Jase, what’s up?”
Keith stood on the other side of the table and sat down.
“Ah, no-nothing.”
“Well, I failed my English assignment. You might want to check your answers before seventh period.”
“I’ll do that, I—”
“Forget lunch?”
I reached at the bag and saw that it was empty.
“No, I think someone stole it. Are there any new people in your homeroom class?”
“Let’s see…there are thirty other people in my homeroom class, and I haven’t paid attention to them since the first week. Why?”
“Just wonderend…I…hey, I’m going to do it.”
“Do what?”
“I’m going to ask her today.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, and since it won’t happen, I don’t have to worry about missing it.”
“No, I think I have it all figured out.”
“How?”
“I’ll write her a note.”
“And if someone else reads it?”
“Well, I could write what I’m thinking but not exactly put her name on it.”
“Like a Valentine candy heart?
“Yeah. I—”
“Mr. Dennereck.”
Keith’s eyes went wide as he stared at the source of the voice behind me. I spun around to meet up with the eyes of the vice principal, Mr. Irwin.
“Come with me.”
We walked out of the lunchroom in total silence.
Suspension?
Detention?
I had no idea what was going to become of me. I had never met the principal of the school, and it was written on some form of ancient tablet or fortune cookie that if Mr. Irwin even whispered your name, you were destined to serve detention every day until the end of the school year or until you died, whichever likely came first. We turned a corner in the hallway when someone grabbed my arm.
“Sorry about what happened earlier.”
The older teen from earlier, Gabe, dragged me away from the vice principal.
“What?”
“Again with the questions. You know, I was told you were going to be difficult to deal with. I didn’t really want to believe it. I mean, yes, teenagers are difficult, but you…well, I guess he broke the mold with you.”
I looked to see Mr. Irwin, like Mr. Jackson earlier, frozen in place.
“Come on.”
We walked down the hallway—it was like a statuary of students as we weaved around them.
“Can I ask one question?”
“I’d rather you didn’t, but you’re going to anyway.”
“How are you doing that?
“Can I answer your question with a question?”
“I think you just did.”
“Ah, you’re catching on, excellent. This will be easier than dealing with the court of Belshazzar.”
“You said you knew everything about me.”
“No, I said I know your secrets. I didn’t say I knew everything about you. However, that being said, I do know everything about you.”
“Like what?”
“Do you want the long or the short list?”
“Short.”
“As you wish.”
He drew his sword and struck the floor with it. The flames burned with a blinding blue light. I closed my eyes, only to open them to see we were still standing in the same hallway.
I looked around to see students and parents walking up and down the hallway, and I saw one person in particular: myself.
The other me, I guess I should describe him like that, walked next to his, er, mine…our, mother.
“Let’s see you at your best, eh?” Gabe grinned as he leaned against the wall.
“Not here…no…”
“Oh, you remember this?”
“Far too well!” I yelled as I ran ahead.
“What happened?”
I turned the corner to witness the equivalency of having that dream where you’re speaking in front of the class in only your underwear: There I was, actually talking to her, but…but failing miserably at being anybody else but myself.
“You’re joining the band?” he asked as he stood less than five feet away from her.
“Yes.”
“Great, maybe you can play flute or drums.”
“Ouch…wow, she really must have thought you were weird.”
Gabe walked to the end of the hallway as I stood the middle of the conversation.
“Why did you say that? What was I, stupid?”
“You already know the answer.”
“Yeah, I was stupid.”
“You weren’t stupid, just uninformed. That fact still stands.”
I walked back to Gabe as they faded away.
“I suppose you’re going to teach me?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then what are you here for?”
“To help you find out for yourself.”
“How? It’s easy to see that I have absolutely no chance.”
“That’s because you don’t talk to her. You talk about her. You glimpse at her, and you say ‘hello.’ Let’s go over some things that you know absolutely nothing about: Do you know her favorite color?”
“No.”
“Do you know what kind of music she likes?”
“Not really, I—”
“C’mon, the real answer’s an easy one.”
“Fine, I don’t know.”
“Third question: Why haven’t you ever asked her these things? Forget about asking her ‘out’ or even starting anything at all…you don’t even know anything about her!”
“I know a little.”
“You know what you think you know…and how’s that working out for you?”
I slumped against the wall and slid to the ground. “I don’t understand.”
“About what?”
“I mean…can’t I just have feelings for her?”
“And what will you do with those feelings? Bottle them up for so long but never so a thing? Like it doesn’t matter or something like that?”
He picked up his sword…
“What can I do?” I asked.
…raised it over his head…
“We need to take it all back to the beginning.”
…and he struck the ground again with the fiery blade.
* * *
I opened my eyes to a view of trees, cabins, and…lots of mud on my shoes. We stood at the foot of a muddy hill on the far side of a campground.
“I have a few memories of this place.”
“Good or bad?”
“A little bit of both, actually.”
Gabe walked ahead of me. “Not going to ask, are you?
“I know where this is. It’s Camp Lee, in August…church youth group trip.”
“Is that the good or the bad part?”
“It’s the nothing part. I know what you’re going to show me.”
“Oh really?”
“This is where I initially blew it…isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t say it like that. You didn’t even know her at that point in time. So onward!”
I reluctantly followed him to the front of the campground where the pool was. It was as I remembered it: complete with dozens of pre- and “just turned” teenagers, myself being one of them, somewhere, maybe, possibly. We stood on the side, near the deep end of the pool.
“So you’re a part of this group—but you didn’t feel like you fit in with them.”
“I was new, so…yeah…it didn’t feel right.”
“Ah. Why was that?”
“We just moved here. Still didn’t feel comfortable around people, I—”
“Not sure about that, you got along with a few people.”
“This is where I first saw her.”
“Yep.”
“I can see I haven’t arrived here yet.”
“Actually, you’re over there, on the diving board.”
I glanced across to see myself standing at the edge of the diving board, ready to jump.
“There was too much spring in the board, and I flew into the air…landed wrong.”
And there I was, watching it unfold again.
“I remember swimming through the water, seeing her, talked to her for a little bit, and then it all degraded into splashing water on everybody.”
I felt foolish, seeing myself act like that. Here I was…this close…and I never said a thing.
“I-I don’t want to see this…I remember it, okay! I remember how stupid I acted. I thought it was funny at first, maybe she did too…but I think I was eventually annoying her.”
“Did she say that you were?”
“No.”
“Then you probably weren’t.”
“Well, she did ask me to stop splashing her.”
“Chlorine does hurt the eyes.”
“Why are you doing this to me? So far, all you’ve shown me are things I wish I didn’t remember.”
“We both know you don’t mean that.”
“I had a chance at one time…I should have said something more than ‘Hello.’”
“Agreed,” Gabe replied as he crossed his hands across his body.
“Agreed. You mean that’s it?”
“No. Let me ask you a question: Did you know someone else was new that day?”
“No.”
“Then we have to work on breaking the ice. It’s all up there.”
He tapped on my head, and yes, it did kind of hurt.
“Who are you?”
“Is it really that important that you know?”
“Yeah, considering that you’re jumping me around through time.”
“Not through time. Like I said, it’s all in there. By the way, don’t think for even a second that you can get by taking the easy way out. It won’t work, no matter how much you want it to.”
“You mean about this or the vice principal?”
“Both. Now jump in the pool.”
“What?”
“I said jump. Normally, one asks ‘how high?’ but since I know you won’t…”
He then pushed me into the water.

A Way

For some reason, and at the time, I never gave it another thought on how or why Mr. Irwin never came back for me. Yes, I sweated through history class, waiting and dreading that he would either appear through the door or hear his voice booming over the intercom. It never occurred though. Still, the period was smooth sailing because Tiffany sat three rows and one desk back from me.
Considering the way band class and lunch went, I figured that it would be best to not look at her…as much as I normally did, anyway. So I spent time, get this, actually reading from my textbook.
Which was kind of a half-truth. I was very good with history. I wasn’t great at “making history,” but I could recall the reign of Charlemagne and the population of Cairo, circa 1988.
“How would you like to get her attention?”
My eyes widened as that question boomed throughout the room. I glanced to the side and saw that…well…
“This is getting a bit…no, not a bit, it’s just strange, just outright crazy.”
I turned around to see same girl from PE sitting on top of a desk. The rest of the class, frozen solid.
“I can help you get her attention…get her to notice you. It’s heartbreaking that you’re struggling with this.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking of things to talk about. I’m going to send her a note, to start the conversation.”
“Talk only goes so far. Actions speak louder than words, you know.”
She jumped off of the desk and skipped to the front of the classroom.
“Do you want to know a secret?”
“Such as?”
“I know her favorite color is red. Perhaps you could get her a bouquet of flowers.”
“I can’t afford to get—”
“Who says it has to cost money? You could make something for her, but if you want to make a great impression…”
“I do.”
“Of course you do. So let’s start there. Only the greatest and best display of your affection will do. That’s how you’ll show her how you feel.”
The gears in my head were turning. A note, some small talk….yeah, that would work, but I needed something heavy in my arsenal. I couldn’t afford jewelry, and I was too young to drive, but I could ride a bicycle to the store and get a flower. Maybe two, three…perhaps a whole bouquet!
“I can place them in her locker in the morning.”
“Now you’re talking. See how easy it is?”
“Who are you?”
“You can call me Lydia.”
She then faded from sight, and I went back to reading my textbook…or at least I went back to reading the same sentence over and over as I thought about how I would accomplish everything.
My seventh period class might as well have been an exercise in slow torture: like sitting in the back seat of a station wagon on a 450-mile road trip with parents who believe that the car doesn’t stop until it needs gas or it blows a tire. Meanwhile, you have had two cans of Mountain Dew, an apple, and you hope that no one mentions anything to do with running water. The time ticked by ever so slowly until the final bell rang. When I ran out of the building, I was so worked up that I almost thought about running all the way home, or at least maybe across town, but, no, it was best to go home first to scrounge up what little money I had.
“Again, we hiked up here for what?”
I set my bike’s kickstand and got off while Keith merely stepped off and allowed his to crash to ground in front of a small grocery store.
“Flowers. I’m going to buy the biggest bouquet of flowers that…” I fished into my pocket and hastily counted as we walked inside. “…fifteen dollars and forty-two cents can buy.”
“For Tiffany?”
“Of course.”
We walked through the aisles, to the back of the store, where there was a single cooler filled with all types of flowers. They were all beautiful in their own ways, but I had to find the perfect bouquet.
“Jase, have you looked at the price list?”
“No, what’s it say?”
“Thirty-dollar bouquets for lilies…”
“What does it say about roses?”
“Forty dollars for a dozen, twenty for half, and single flowers for six bucks. The prices don’t make any sense…like you right now.”
I stared at the single flowers. If I only got one, then I would look like I was cheap.
“Do you think two will be enough?”
“Maybe one and some chocolates?”
“I don’t know if she likes chocolate.”
“But you know she likes roses?”
“Don’t all girls like roses?”
“And I think they all like chocolate too. My sister eats it like it’s the last thing on earth…hmm, I don’t think she’s ever gotten flowers before though.”
“So a flower and a box of chocolates?”
“If you’re looking to save some money, you can just buy a bag of Snickers—”
“And a handful of dandelions to go with it?”
“They’re free, right? Perhaps she loves the beauty of nature? Wildflowers can say a lot too.”
I opened the cooler as Keith continued with his pep talk.
“I’m just saying you should save your money. She might ask you to drop dead.”
“I don’t think she’d ask me that.”
I reached deep inside and moved the flowers around, in my attempt to find the perfect one. No droops. No damaged petals. No, it had to be just on the brink of blooming so I could surprise her with it in full bloom.
“This will help me. It shows tha—”
“That you have no idea how this works, do you?”
“You’re right, Keith…I have no idea how this is going to turn out. I’m kind of winging it, but I have a feeling that this will work. These will be my way of getting my foot in the door.”
“Getting your foot in the door? More like getting your face slammed in it.”
We walked up to a register. The clerk took the flowers and smiled at me.
“For a girlfriend?”
“I hope so.”
“Well, good luck with that.”
“Lady," Keith interjected, "I’ve been telling him that all along.”
I bolted out of the store so fast I still do not recall if I got my change.
I hung the bag on my handlebars as Keith scraped his bike off the ground.
“Keith, it’s the thought that counts. Girls like to be shown that they mean something to you.”
“By buying them dead flowers?”
“They’re not dead.”
“Ah yes, I recall your past science test score on plants. Go on.”
“If I could buy her a diamond, I would.”
“You do know what that means, right?”
“That I might possibly love her or that I’m crazy?”
“Both, but with more emphasis on the crazy!”
“I’m going to walk into that school, give her these, and then…”
We had biked over a hill crest, and at that time, I started to feel a pit building up in my stomach. It wasn’t the flowers, and it most likely was not the pent of fear of what I would say to her after she sees the flowers….no, it was the fact the brakes on my bicycle had stopped working. I squeezed the rear brake handle…nothing. The brake line was there, but it was dangling from my handlebar.
“Jason, bail, man!”
The bike continued to accelerate…to a point where I could no longer safely turn or stop, but I could move to the side of the road and jump onto the grass. I steered to the left, grabbed the bag with the roses, and prepared to jump from the bike. However, the bag didn’t exactly come off the bar with ease. I jerked the bag, which caused the front wheel to turn ninety degrees from the rest of the bike.
I don’t exactly remember what happened, but I remember the pain as I got tangled in the bike while it slid down the hill. In slow motion, I could see the flowers—the two that took so much time to find just THE right ones—become mangled and cut apart by the front tire like wood through a chipper.
“Jason!”
“Yeah,” I replied as I stared at the road.
“You okay, man?”
“How are the flowers?”
“Uh, shredded.”
With Keith’s help, I stood up next to the remnants of my bike…and the flowers. Let me also point out that my left leg and arm were bloodied, and my jeans were…well, I was early for the grunge movement.
“Keith, what flowers grow wild in Alabama?”
Later that evening, after my futile attempts to hide the damage done to my bike and body from my parents, I laid in bed with a notebook in one hand and an ice pack for my knee in the other. I had never written a love note to anyone. I had never even written a Valentine before. What does one write to someone without sounding like a complete fool? Simple poetry or epic sonnets? Should it describe how I felt? Should I compare her to a summer’s day…whatever that meant.
“I don’t have any ideas, no words to say, nothing to give, and nothing to show. Oh wait, I do have something. I can say, ‘I scraped my knee for you. Come, let me whisk you away as long as we don’t go too far because my bicycle is destroyed, I can’t drive, and my leg looks like a Halloween decoration.’”
I threw the notebook off the bed in disgust. My chances were now blown. I had no other options…Keith only knew about Alabama wild grass, not flowers.
“There’s another way to show her.”
I looked up to see Lydia, standing, no, more like leaning, on my bookshelf.
“How?”
“First, I need to let you know that sometimes people can steal your chance away from you.”
“What?”
“Anybody. People you don’t know or people you trust. Enemies or friends, they can plot to take things away from you.”
“Are you saying that—?”
“I’m saying you shouldn’t guard your heart but let it fight for you. Tomorrow, you’re going to go and ask her, but be prepared to fight for her.”
“Fight who?”
“This may be shocking for you to hear, but please try to follow me here. Whose bike were you riding?”
“Mine.”
“Who helps you fix it when there’s a problem?”
“Keith sometimes helps me. We had to work on the brakes last week and—he fixed it?”
“Fixed it…yes…He didn’t want you to buy those flowers for her, did he?”
“No, he tried to talk me out of it.”
“Exactly. Now think upon that.”
The next morning, I arrived at school and stood in front of the building. For weeks, I had felt apprehension, nervousness…butterflies all over my digestive system, but not that morning. No, this was the day that I would make my stand, in front of the whole school if I had to.
Today would be the day. I was going to ask her out…somewhere, maybe a movie, maybe just a walk together. Perhaps a dance, our school was known to have one every other week for some reason or another. It didn’t matter what we’d do later on. What mattered was what I was going to do that very moment.
I took one step forward. It was a booming step too, I must say.
“Gotta work beyond hello.”
I took another step. If I had an orchestra around me, they would have been playing a triumphant march to victory.
“No matter what…”
And another step. I didn’t need flowers or chocolates. I didn’t need trinkets or gifts of jewelry.
“People can trample on me, they can threaten my life, and they can—”
I opened the front door and took an earth-shattering, high-flying step into a new day.
I turned the corner, on the way to my locker, and froze. My vision sliced through the obstacles in the hallway and locked on something that I could not believe I was seeing. My hands clenched, and I could feel a deepening anger in me.
If looks could kill, I would have murdered the fifty-plus people in front of me. I dropped my backpack to the floor, along with my heart, with a sickening thud. Down the hall, in front of my unbelieving eyes, my friend, Keith, next to him stood Tiffany, their hands entwined.
“Imagine that,” Lydia said as she picked my backpack up and looked into my eyes. “They got together yesterday afternoon.”
“They did?”
“Isn’t he your friend?”
“Is, well, was now.”
“I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“You shouldn’t want to do that, but you should challenge him. You have to fight for her love.”
“Why? If she’s already made her decision?”
“There’s always a way to make people see the way it ought to be. Fight for her.”
I approached the band room with anger in my heart, well-hidden, of course, once I opened the double doors.
Tiffany looked at me, waved, and called out the center of the band room. “Good morning, Jason.”
I waved back to her. She was now talking to me…now that she was going out with Keith. But there was a chance…I had to prove myself.
My next three classes flew by in blur as I found myself walking into the lunchroom. I moved to the table I always sat at and stood next to Keith.
“Hey, Jase, I—”
I pushed him off his seat.
“Okay, what was that for?
“I think you know.”
“No, if I did, I wouldn’t have asked.” Keith stood up…he seemed a bit taller now.
“You’ve known how long…and now…”
“Now, what? You’re not making any sense, I—”
I punched him the chest, and he staggered back.
“You’ve asked for it now, Dennereck.”
Keith pulled back and moved to slam me with his right fist.
I was able to block the right, but his left hand collided with my face. The pain was unbearable as I reeled a bit but then recovered to take a run at him. If I had been thinking straight, I would have thought that a sling and a stone would have been a better weapon of choice than my feeble arms.
He swung out to strike, and I jumped onto the table and ran down it a bit. I skidded to a stop, ran back the other way, and took a running dive at him.
We tumbled to the floor, rolled a bit, and broke away for a second, but we were then locked in a wrestling grapple.
“What are you doing, Jase?”
“What do you think? Settling a score.”
“A what?”
I tried to break free and strike, but Keith was too fast, and he slammed me in the face and onto the floor.
When I was able to open my eyes, I looked around at the now-empty lunchroom. Empty except for me and Gabe.
“And this happened because—?” He reached out his hand to pull me up.
“Because of what he did.”
“Who?”
“Keith, who-who’s no longer here.”
“Which was?”
“He asked her out.”
“Really? You sure?” Gabe asked as he took a few steps away from me and jumped onto one of the tables.
“I saw it.”
“So you decided to show your strength, in front of her, so she could see how you feel? Well, look around. She’s not here. In fact, she’s in the band room.”
The eeriness of the situation was beginning to come on to me. The room even had an echo; it was so empty.
“Can I ask you one more question?”
“Yeah.”
“What time is it?”
I looked at my watch and then at the clocks on the walls.
“It’s eight twenty? That can’t be right.”
“Lucky for you, it is.”
I stood, once again in front of the school, with my backpack in hand and Gabe at my side.
“Let’s hear it for not going with our first impulse.”
“But he’s still going to ask her out.”
“Kind of hard to do that, considering he didn’t ride the bus this morning.”
“Right, he wasn’t on the bus this morning, but I know he’s in there, and—”
“Really? Well, stranger things have happened: water into wine, life on Earth in general. Let’s go see.”
We walked into the school, and I turned the corner, expecting my world to fall apart for the second time that day, but she wasn’t there…
“She’s not there, is she?”
“No.”
“Wow, how strange is that?”
“But I saw them, they were—”
“Remember when I said you know what you think you know?”
“Yes.”
We continued walking down the hall, dodging students who couldn’t care less they were not watching where they were going.
“You’re thinking of the bad things that could happen, and you’re letting those thoughts control how you think.”
“Kind of hard not to.”
“Then you’re afraid of her.”
“No, I’m just not sure of things.”
“Which is it: fear or confusion?”
“I’m not afraid of her.”
“You’re afraid of rejection. So you won’t try.”
We walked out of the first building.
“If I asked her and she said no, then what would I do?”
“Do you mean to tell me that you’re content with just looking at her each day?”
“I—”
“You do know how weird that is? I suggest that you never mention it to her—ever.”
“I don’t stalk her, I—”
And walked into second building, the cool air-conditioning was a welcome feeling, considering that I was’t feeling very well at that moment.
“You admire her by far.”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s time to get closer.”
“No.”
“No? No what? Let’s go.”
“I can’t.”
“Perhaps a change of scenery is in order.”
He drew his sword and struck the floor. The blade went through the tile, shattering it and the ground beneath it.
“May be a bit of a bumpy ride.”
The hallway collapsed into a deep chasm, taking us with it.

The Love Crusade

I opened my eyes and looked to my side. All I could see was tall grass and a caterpillar on a grassy reed.
“Am I dead?”
“No, far from it. Welcome to a whole new world…or a great kingdom, however you want to call it.”
I stood up and looked to Gabe. He appeared at ease and calm, like this was just another everyday, common occurrence for him.
“Care to take a look around?
“Look around for wha—” I looked to the distance to see a massive fortress.
“That’s where the king lives.”
“King?”
“Yeah, you know: kings, knights, knaves, princesses, chivalry, and all that.”
“Yeah, right. So I’m a knight on a quest? That’s your test?”
“Well, it was either to try and get you to go up to her in a modern sense with the teenage eyes of cruel judgment holding court over you or you could go against a fire-breathing dragon. I thought this would be easier.”
“Dragon? Whoa, you’re serious?”
“Look around. We’re standing in the shadows of a citadel.”
“That doesn’t mean there has to be a dragon.”
“How about a row of your peers and you, standing, in clown pants?”
“Bring on the dragon.”
We walked for what seemed like hours but was probably less than fifteen minutes. I could feel the sweat dripping off my head as we trudged through the rocky terrain. Gabe looked like he could run the New York Marathon—twice—with a backpack full of lead, and still not feel any pain. We finally stopped at the mouth of a large cave.
“Think you can handle it?”
“Why am I having to fight a dragon? “
“Let’s set the scene: We have a dark cave, you have a sword…oh, and we have to have the obligatory princess in distress, right?
“Princess?”
“Of course, the question still remains: what does a dragon do with a princess? Besides eating them, I don’t think that’s ever been looked into…Not like they’re very good with conversation.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Draw the sword, slay the dragon. Get on the bandwagon here.”
“Dragon?”
“Yep! Go get ’em!”
“Slay?”
“He’s not going to die anytime soon on his own.”
I walked into the mouth of the cave but then stopped. Not because I was afraid, but because I really didn’t see the point of it.
“This isn’t real…it’s just a—”
“Dream? Fine. Wake up then.”
“I don’t think you’d let me if—”
An ear-piercing screech filled the air as I crept into the darkness.
“A flashlight would be great right now,” I muttered to no one in particular as the darkness closed in. Soon, I found myself feeling around the rocks and shuffling my feet. If I was going to die, it was not going to be due to taking a leisurely stroll into a spike-filled trap or something. Of course, I could have slammed my head on a stalactite and receive a gash so huge I’d topple to the ground in agony. Either way, I was ill at ease.
The feeling of dread did not go away the further I went into the cavern. Every other minute or so, another “fingernails on a chalkboard” screech reverberated off the walls. Then I felt a hand tap on my shoulder.
I swiped my hand at it and felt nothing.
Then a finger tapped at my back.
And another one flicked my forehead.
“Very funny, Gabe…ha ha. Where have you been all this time while I’ve been crawling blindly around this ca—?”
Several hands grabbed me, and I slammed my back against the wall. Unless he grew three more sets of hands, it couldn’t be Gabe. Was it the dragon? Crazy thieves? Large roaches that wanted me to know how it felt to be squished? I couldn’t tell, but I chose to swing my arms and fists in a desperate attempt to connect with something.
“Let me go!” I darted forward and ran as fast as I could—even though I had the squeamish thought that I was going to collide with something in the darkness. “Oh, Mr. Bottomless Pit? Where art thou?”
I stopped running, eventually, and leaned against the side to catch my breath and to wince because my back was aching from…well, from whatever it was back there.
“What were you looking at?
“Gabe?”
“Who else would be in here with you?
“There were hands…hands—”
“Hands reaching out to get you and pull you into the shadowy darkness?”
“Yes.”
“Do you see any of them now?”
“No. I don’t really see much of anything.”
“You know, I forgot to give you something.”
“A flashlight?”
“A sword. Here, take mine.” I shielded my eyes as a blinding light shot out before me. I could barely see Gabe as he handed over the burning sword. “Don’t you have a princess to save?”
Grasping the sword's hilt with a new found bravado, I walked steadfast through the now brightly illuminated cavern. What was dark and foreboding was now lit up and…still looked foreboding. Not to mention the shrieking roar, which got progressively louder with each step. I finally stepped into a large open-spaced room—with a large crevice between me, a large, leathery-colored dragon…and…Tiffany, sitting rather calmly at a desk.
The gorge was at least…well, I don’t really recall how large it was…but I knew I had to cross it. I had a princess to rescue. How to do it? Stealth? Full frontal assault? Talk it into submission? I looked at the sword in my hand and then at the dragon.
“I’m not backing down.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and ran toward the chasm.
With sword drawn, I leaped down to the ground and locked eyes with the fiery beast. It reared back and opened its mouth.
A hail of dragon fire shot toward me, but I dodged to the left and circled around.
And it screeched again, and another barrage of flame came at me, this time over my head. I ran closer to the dragon and took a swing at it, striking at a bony plate that caused me to nearly drop the sword on impact.
The dragon was not amused, and it lunged at me. Deftly, I struck at its face, causing the dragon to recoil and scream. Time was now of the essence. The giant lizard was not in a good mood when I arrived, and striking at it would not earn me any points. I had to put it down.
Duck, parry, thrust, kick, strike.
Dodge, evade—a glimmer of sweat fell from my brow as I ran up the dragon’s tail to the center of its back and stabbed it in the heart. The sword burned through, down to the ground, and the dragon fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.
I drew the blade out, and it was clean, clear of any blood whatsoever.
I turned to where Tiffany sat against the wall.
“Hi, Jason.”
“Hi…uhh…” At that moment, any ounce of courage that I thought I had withered away. No amount of kryptonite could compare to it.
“Problem? Hey, nice sword.”
Gabe walked up from behind me and took his sword back in a quick grab.
“This is where I wake up. Right here. I never get to ask her.”
“Do you want to wake up now?”
“It doesn’t matter. She’s not real…this isn’t really her.”
“You’re wrong and you’re right. It does matter. And true, this isn’t her, but that didn’t stop you.”
“It’s just a dream though.”
“Maybe so, or maybe you’re just thinking way too hard about everything else except what you should just go and do. You’re in a cave with a sword. There is a dead dragon over there. Who killed it?”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“At any time did you think it was hopeless or impossible to succeed?”
“No.”
“Then do it for real.”
* * *
Once again, I could hardly sit still in seventh period English. Forget the fact that I could barely tolerate reading The Hobbit; there was so much more on my mind. I was never a clock watcher, but I became one for the remaining fifty-three minutes and twenty seconds of class. The clock hands moved at an incredibly slow pace, almost falling back a second for every two it moved forward. Yes, I felt that time was now against me. It would have been a fitting time for the world to end right at that moment, or any time after that.
I had it all planned out this time: find her after school, walk with her for a bit, and then pop the question. Well, no, not that question, perhaps that was a bit overzealous, considering the fact that I had no idea what she would think of such a question. Our student handbooks did mention married students…but I think it was because it was used for the high school and, to save money, they gave the same handbook to the junior high kids.
“Okay, back it up a bit, Dennereck,” I thought to myself. “Don’t walk up to her like you’re an insane maniac. Play it calm. Everything will work out. Nothing will go wrong.”
“Jason Dennereck?”
“Yes, Mrs. Jemison?”
“Since you don’t feel like reading, why don’t you march yourself to the office.”
“Can I read instead?”
“Are you telling me how I should run my class?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then read!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The bell chimed at 3:20 and I ran into the hallway. I was never one to push my way out of class, but on that day, I would probably shove a band of blind nuns to get where I was going to. The hallways were packed with a sea of bodies. If there was ever a superpower that I wished I could have, it would the power of flight or levitation—anything to rise above the masses and get to where I needed to be. At this time, I wanted that wish more than free pizza for life…because I could not find Tiffany anywhere. That, and I really didn’t know where her locker was to begin with.
“Think, Jason, think. You never see her at the front buses, so maybe she’s at the side.”
Keith stepped up beside me as I piled my books into his hands.
“I have to go do something…try to stop the bus from leaving.”
“How?”
“I’ll be right back.”
“You didn’t answer the question!”
I ran out the side door and across the front of the school so fast you’d swear the building was either on fire or that a rampaging lion was hot on my heels. Life was an obstacle course as I had to sidestep other students, some twirling backpacks, purses, or a tuba case. I passed by two buses until I saw her walking toward the third and final bus on the side.
“Tiffany,” I said her name without fear…of course, at this point I was at the point of no return. There was no going back now.
“Hey, Jason.”
“Umm…” I tried to not sound like I was out of breath, but it failed. “I really don’t know how to say this, umm…”
“What?”
“Okay…umm, there’s the dance tomorrow night, and would you like to go?”
“Yes, I would. I’d have to see if I can. Parents, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“But if they say yes, then yes. I’ll love to go with you. Can we talk about it tomorrow before band?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll see you then. Umm…well, I don’t want you to miss your bus.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Jason.”
“See you tomorrow.”
She walked onto the bus but looked back to me and smiled.
I stepped back from the sidewalk and turned to see Keith behind me.
“Well?”
All I could do was stand there with a stupid grin plastered on my face.
We stood on the side as the bus pulled away.
“Dude, did you ask her?”
“Weren’t you watching?”
“Yeah, but I thought she was telling you to drop dead or something, so— “
“Thanks a lot.”
“You set the expectation. Oh, and you’re gonna have to call your mom.”
“Bus left already?”
“Yep.”
Despite the short lecture I received from my parents about missing the bus, nothing could make me lose the high that I was on. I could feel it was truly the start of something that would continue on through high school, college…eternity even! The thoughts running through my head were dizzying. Where to begin? What would I say to move it to the next direction, and why didn’t I ask her for her phone number? Not a huge deal—there would be time to ask her tomorrow. Now that the hard part was over, there was nothing that could stop me.
We ate dinner with very little conversation, which was normal, as my parents never really asked me how my day at school was unless I volunteered the information, and usually, I never volunteered anything beyond “it was okay.”
My parents looked back and forth at each other, like each one wanted to tell me something but didn’t know how to phrase it.
“Jason, I have some news for you.”
“Okay?” I said in that manner that kind of sounds like a question but really means “I’m not sure I want to hear what you’re about to say.”
“We’re moving.”
“Across town?” I hoped this was the answer. Sure, I’d miss Keith, but perhaps a bigger house in a new neighborhood—with a pool maybe—would be fun.
“No, across country,” Mom replied.
“How far cross country?”
“Wyoming,” Dad replied.
At that moment, the food in my mouth tasted like dirt, and a giant pit grew in my stomach. I wanted to throw up right then and there, but if I did, I think that I’d start crying right after that, and I really didn’t want to do that either.
“We can’t move…we just moved here, like seven months ago, and we have to stay for three years or…or longer.”
“Not how it works, Jason.”
“Can you put in a request to stay, or can you defy the order? Don’t you have some seniority to say no?”
“If only,” Mom replied. “I have to pack the bookcases again.”
“Okay, so what if I stay here? I can take the bus to school, order pizza for dinner, and call you if I need help with homework.”
“Are you going to mow the lawn too?”
“I could.”
“Don’t think that’s going to work.”
“Why do you want to stay here?” Mom asked.
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“I just do, okay? Can I be excused?”
“Yes, but—”
“It’s just…you wouldn’t understand.” Of course they wouldn’t understand the issue. They were parents. If I was to tell them what happened, if I had stated that I finally acquired the nerve to actually talk with Tiffany, they would either not care or throw some pearl of wisdom like, “You’ll meet someone else one day.”
My parents would simply dismiss it as “that’s life” and say that I need to move on with it. I didn’t want to leave my school.
I didn’t want to leave Prattville.
I didn’t want to go somewhere new and lose everything I had. I didn’t have much, but I had a friend, and I had a love; and in my book, that was too much to let go.
I walked up the stairs to room and silently closed the door. Slamming it would only get the ire of my parents, even though at that moment I wanted to do something to ease the pain I felt.
“It can’t end like this. It just got started. It’s like getting ready to watch a movie and then you fall asleep and wake up at the end. I don’t want to miss this.”
Lydia stood at the other end of the room with her arms crossed.
“I know. I know. You got over your fears and you asked her and she said yes and you feel so much happiness right now. I’m sad that it feels like this is the end, but there is a way to stop it.”
“How?”
“At least I think you can do it. You’d do anything for her, right?”
“Yes.”
“You’d jump off a bridge?”
“I don’t think she’d ever ask me to.”
“You never know what people will ask of you, but you have to be ready to give up everything for them. Are you willing to give up everything?”
“Yes.”
“Your life?”
“Seriously?”
“It’s not just a saying, you know? When you love somebody, you give all you can for them, at the sacrifice of yourself to be with them. Do you want that?”
“Yes.”
“You just can’t say you love her. You have to show it. Show her the future of the two of you together. Would you like that?”
“With all my heart, I—”
“I don’t know. I don’t think you—”
“I’ll do whatever I have to do. I want a future with her.”
“We’ll work with that.”
She picked up a large book from off my bookshelf. The cover was leather-like, and it looked very old, and I had never seen anything like it at all in my room or in any library.
“I need to assign a little homework. You need to read this.”
“What’s it about?” I asked as she handed it over. It was pretty heavy, and the book’s weight seemed to increase with each passing second.
“I can’t tell you that, it would spoil the ending, but I’ll give you a hint: it’s not about an 'it' but more of a 'who'. The story of a lifetime. And I’m not referring to Bilbo Baggins”
“Whose?”
“Again, spoilers.”
I opened the book to the last page, it was blank. “What do I do with it?”
“Write the ending you want. But it’s best to start at the beginning…or the middle, if you choose.”
“The ending I want…”
I turned to the first page, and in a large, as in a “you couldn’t miss it even if you were blind” font, the title of the book sprung out: Tiffany Creighton.
“No way…”
“Keep reading…I think you’ll learn everything you want to know.”
I turned through the pages.
“This says everything?”
“Everything.”
“Is it divided into chapters?”
“I suggest you just read through it…be careful though.”
I kept turning through the pages, partially ignoring whatever Lydia was saying at that moment. It was just so cool. I could know her birthday.
The pages went by in a blur as I tried to read everything—locations, names, people—but soon, my eyes and brain were at odds on who would stay awake the longest. I don’t recall when I finally dozed off, but I woke up with my head hanging over my bed and the book lying on the floor.

Place in this World

I woke up early and nearly freaked out as I jumped up, grabbed the book from off of the floor by the spine, and placed it in my backpack.
“I’ll read it on the bus. Might have to skip a few chapters.”
I could tell that it was going to be a very good day. It didn’t matter if it started raining or if a hurricane struck, which would be quite the feat since Prattville was about three hundred and three miles from the ocean. Still, if that happened, that would say something about my resolve toward the situation at hand.
I met up with Keith at the bus stop.
“Hey.”
“I see you finally asked Erin out.”
“Who?”
“Yeah, good one, I’m the one who’s supposed to be surprised. So you didn’t ask her out yesterday after all?”
“You saw me ask Tiffany yesterday.”
“You mean Erin.”
“No, who are you talking about?”
“Erin.”
“Erin?”
“Yeah, Erin…is Tiffany her middle name?”
The bus arrived, and we stepped on.
“Erin?”
“Yeah, Erin Woodall. You really can’t stop talking about her, can you?”
“Wait. No, who are you talking about? I’m trying to get with Tiffany.”
“Who?”
“Who? Her name has been, is, and will be—well, maybe not one day—Tiffany Creighton.”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about. Is she new?”
“New? I only talk about her every day. You have even made it a part of your day to comment on how I can’t say anything to her.”
“What does she look like?”
When the bus arrived at the school, I was once again running across the front lawn to the band room. I stood near the front doors of the room and looked around a bit. I didn’t see her there, so obviously, she would be in the room, right?
The class was setting up their chairs and stands. I walked across the room to the instrument storage room. She wasn’t there either.
Perhaps she was sick? I grabbed my chair and a stand and placed them in my row. If she was sick, then her space would sit empty. But I could talk to her on the weekend, perhaps go on a walk or something. It could still work. I could try to look up her number if I had to.
At that moment, I turned around to see her space occupied by someone I didn’t know. The face, hair, body…I could not place her…she was someone I. Did. Not. Know. She looked up at me with an expression of “who are you looking at?” and for the first time since the first day of school, I couldn’t answer that question.

“I’m sorry, I don’t see her name.”
I stood in the front office, leaning against a rather large desk, as the school secretary thumbed through a card catalog.
“C-r-e-i-g-h-t-o-n.”
“There’s no one here by that name. Is she new?”
An hour later, I sat at my usual table in the lunchroom with my eyes closed. If the real world was a dream world, then in a dream world, everything would be the way it was supposed to be…or so I wished.
“Why are you moping?”
“Keith, I think the world has fallen apart.”
I looked around the cafeteria—still couldn’t find her.
“Why, because your dream girl doesn’t appear before your eyes?”
It was like she dropped off the face of the earth.
“She’s not a dream…there is no possible way that the past six months have been a dream, because I see her every day, so that would mean this is a dream too.”
“Only in your head.”
“She plays clarinet in band.”
“Almost everyone in band plays the clarinet.”
“She says ‘hello’ to me every day.”
“Anything else about her you’d like to say that would actually make sense? Just don’t ask me to pinch you, okay?”
“You tell me, when did I meet Erin? Because I don’t remember ever talking to her.”
“I think you said you met her at some ice cream shop in town, and you talked for a while, and you found her here at school yesterday, and well, you asked her out yesterday.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s what you told me.”
“Why can’t I remember? What’s she look like?”
“It’s kind of bad if I have to point your girlfriend out to you.”
“If you want to point out my girlfriend to me, then find me the girl who has reddish-brown hair—”
“Erin has brown hair.”
“I’m not talking about Erin. Where is she anyway?”
“Right behind you.”
I turned around to see Erin for the first, and what would most likely be the last, time. Perhaps in another time and place, I would have gladly and without any hesitation pursued her. However, at that moment, I didn’t know who she was, and she apparently had heard the entire conversation, so she responded by slapping me across the face. Then, without a word, she walked away.
“All that effort to talk with her and its over like that? I’m going to wait until high school before I work that hard.”
“Okay, so, back to what I was saying-”
“-Wow! That was a fast recovery.”
“She was in my first and fifth period classes.”
“But now she’s not?”
“I’ll find out next period, I guess.”
“Are you sure you’re not just recalling a movie you saw?”
“No.”
“Have you ever talked with her, in real life?”
“Yes…I’ve talked with her...briefly. Maybe not as much as I would have like to before she vanished off the face of the earth.”
“I’m thinking it’s either a dream or it’s someone else that you think you know.”
“This isn’t a dream, it’s a nightmare.”
“Pretty good nightmare then. Mine are usually about falling off a cliff or having some demon run me down and try to rip me to shreds.”
“Do what?”
“I didn’t tell you about it? Dude, this red-faced demon with black hair and two daggers started going all ninja on me. I could literally see myself tear in half.”
“This is worse, Keith.”
“What’s worse than getting your head served to you like a shish kabob?”
“Having your heart shattered.”
“I know I said I wouldn’t pinch you, but if you’d like me to punch you to wake you up, just say the word.”
It still did not make any sense. I sat at my desk for social studies and looked across the room at what would be an empty seat if she was just absent. However, someone else was there. Perhaps everything was a dream; it was time to just deal with it: Tiffany was gone, assuming that she was even real to begin with or simply my imagination running wild…like really wild…like wild enough to leave road rash burns on my legs. I stood up right in the middle of the classroom and rolled my jeans up to hopefully reveal massive scabs on my legs, but there was nothing. Not a burn, blister, or sign of crashing my bike just the other day. I sat down as other students and the teacher, Mrs. Bowling, filed into the room. If I needed someone to appear before me and help me out, I wanted it to be right then.
Which begged the question: who were Gabe and Lydia? Why did I listen to them? How did I see them and no one else ever did? Was I living a dream within a dream, and if I pinched myself, would I wake up from one of them; or would I find myself locked in a nice padded cell, staring up at the ceiling with a blank-faced expression while drooling all over a fitted straightjacket?
I moved to take my binder out of my backpack, and my social studies book took a fall from the desktop. It fell haphazardly to the floor with the spine and pages bending. At that moment, something clicked in my brain.
I pulled the book Lydia gave me from out of my backpack and turned to the first page. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, for a book, that is. I flipped through several chapters until I reached it: a large rip in a page. The reason she no longer existed…was me.
A sickening feeling of dread came over me. Judging by the appearance of the book, I couldn’t just photocopy the page and put it back in with scotch tape or staples. I had no idea how to restore it. I had literally killed who I wanted to be my best friend in the world!
At home, I stood in front of my desk and stared at the torn page. If only I could will it to be repaired. I closed my eyes and then opened them…the rip was still there.
Tighter, maybe? Would blood have to come spurting from my eyeballs before the page would return?
“Rough day?”
I turned to see Lydia standing in the corner of the room.
“Lydia, thank God you’re here.”
“I wouldn’t thank or much less think that way. What happened?”
“I ripped a page. Please say there’s a way to fix it!”
“I see.” She reached over and touched the page. “Hmmm. This is very bad.”
“Can you fix it?”
“No.”
It felt as if several bullets, fired at close range, with the force of a bazooka, blasted their way through my heart.
“No. No, you have to tell me that it can be fixed. No one knows her except for me. It’s like she doesn’t exist or—”
“That’s because she doesn’t. The page has been damaged, which wipes her off the face of the earth.”
“How do I bring her back?”
“It will be hard…but it can be done.”
“How?”
“We’re going to need another book.”
She then drew two daggers form her belt and cut, well, I can only describe it as a hole in space…I can’t really give it a lot of hyperbole because I still don’t get it myself, but standing in front of me was a, fine, I’ll say it: a portal to somewhere else. Lydia grabbed my hand and pulled me through the opening.
We stepped into a dimly lit hall filled with books. The shelves reached into the sky, and the room seemed to go on forever.
“What are all of these?”
“The lives of everyone are recorded here.”
“Everyone?”
“Yep. We need to look for one in particular, yours.”
She jumped onto a table and vaulted over a shelf as a series small books appeared beneath her. “Just hang on for a moment, Jason.”
I nodded and continued to look around. “Where do all of these books come from?”
“You mean, who wrote them?”
“Yeah.”
“You do; I mean that everything you do gets recorded page by page.”
“You mean even…?”
“Yes, even those times.”
“What?”
“I found yours. Be right back.”
I heard scraping and creaking noises, and then Lydia stood on top of the shelf with a large open book. She then jumped off the shelf and landed on her feet, a few feet in front of me.
“This is your book. If you want to bring her back, you have to place both books together, cover to cover. It will then repair the damage. It will be that easy.”
I placed the damaged book on the shelf and then took the other from Lydia.
“And everything will go back to the way it was?” I asked as I placed the book on top of the other.
“Yes, and then some.”
“And then some?”
I watched as the bindings of the books merged together. The newly formed “superbook,” I suppose, then opened to the first page and then the next, and the next—the text was all scrambled.
“What did I do?”
“What you’ve dreamt about.”
“What does that even mean? I dream about a lot of things!”
“When the pages have been rewritten, the life you wanted with her begins.”
“With her?” I asked as I looked at my hands as they faded from sight.
“What happens now?”
“Time to change your world. I hope it’s all you ever wanted.”

She Walks with Me

On September 16, 1993, I had the whole world at my feet. Gone was the lost boy of the past. The worrywart was wounded and withdrawn from a wondrous life. I was a new man. Now if you think that I’m gloating just a little bit, you’d be right. I could. Because I had it all: school, friends, a car, a job, and the girl of my dreams…who was not a dream but true flesh and blood, and I got to see her every day.
However, if I was going to be truly honest with myself, I didn’t want to just see her at school, or call her and talk on the phone for hours: I wanted it to be more than that. So on that Saturday afternoon, I dragged Keith—with the promise of pizza—to assist me on a quest that would rival Bilbo Baggins.
The trip into Montgomery from Prattville took about thirty minutes, finding a parking place took considerably longer. We walked into the mall and down the central corridor. I was a man on a mission that day.
“So what’s here that we couldn’t have stayed in town by going to Wal-Mart to get?”
“Something very important.”
“Such as?”
“I’m going to do it, Keith.”
“Do what?”
“I’m going to ask her.”
“Ask her what?”
“You seriously have to ask me that?
“I can think of a lot of things you’d ask. Consider my point of view: I don’t understand half the things you do anymore.”
I then abruptly turned and walked into a jewelry store.
“Hello? Don’t you recall what happened with the roses?”
I looked at the various rings behind the glass as Keith continued his lecture:
“You’re a junior…in high school. You have your whole life in front of you and…and I’m standing in a ring store with you. You’re absolutely crazy, you know that?”
“A bit.”
“A bit? No, a bit would be to let her drive your car whenever she wants to. You’re sixteen. You don’t think about these things until, I don’t know, twenty-five?”
“She means too much to me.”
“You do know what this means, right?”
By then, we had garnered the store manager’s attention. He walked over to us without a word.
“It means a lot of things. Can I see this one please?”
Twenty minutes later, we sat at a table in the bustling food court with a large pizza sitting between us.
“So how far does that set you back?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I’m all for you, man, you know, whatever makes you happy, but—”
“What?”
“You’re really that serious.”
“Yes.”
“So has she hinted to you that she wants this?”
“She doesn’t know.”
“Dude, you just spent—”
“And like I said, that doesn’t matter.”
“So you’re just going to hope she says yes?”
“What are you getting at?”
“You have been with Tiffany for how long?
“Four years, three months…”
“Yes, yes, I know you have it down to the nanosecond since you first saw her. Okay, thank you. Now, in that time you haven’t thought about anyone else?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, let’s stop and think about this for just a moment now…since you haven’t been thinking clearly for quite a while. Life, like this pizza, is out there for you to enjoy. And you’re going to just let it sit there?”
“First off, I’m not going to compare Tiffany, or anyone else for that matter, to a slice of pizza.”
“But I’m talking about pizzas with lots of cheese, pepperoni, and perhaps ones with big tomatoes on them.”
“Your train of thought has derailed before it’s even left the station.”
“I’m just saying you’re taking a big step.”
“True.”
“About how much thought have you put into this?”
“Plenty.”
“Right. Allow me to remind you about how much ‘thought’ you put into our biology project.”
“That’s different.”
“Better be, since we got a freaking D minus on it.”
I took the ring box, opened it, and looked at the reflection in the diamond.
“I know it’s a risk. There is a chance that she might say no…if so, then I’ll wait for her.”
“For how long? I mean, what if she wants to tour Europe or go backpacking in the wilderness for a few years? Maybe join the Air Force or go to Belgium or something?”
“I haven’t thought of that…because I know that it’s not going to happen. We will graduate together and…”
“And what?”
“I don’t know…I just know that I’ll have her by my side.”
“If you say so.”
I nodded as I closed the ring box.
We drove back to Prattville, and I dropped Keith off at his house.
“I’d wish you good luck, but instead I’m warning you.”
“Warning me of what?”
“Don’t give that to her. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. Rings make girls mad.”
“Like, crazy mad?”
“That, and just mad mad. It changes them. My sister got married, and she’s—well, I don’t think it’s going well for her.”
“What about the guy?”
“It’s worse for him.”
“I don’t think she’s going to beat me up if I give a ring to her.”
“Perhaps not physically.”
“You will be the first person I call if she puts me in the hospital.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of the morgue…when she says ‘no.’”
“Wow, aren’t you a shining beacon on a hill right now?”
“Just saying.”
“Thanks,” I replied as I drove off.
As I turned the corner and onto the highway, I took a glance at the glove compartment where I had stashed the ring box. Keith had some good points, but if I thought about every negative thing that could happen, then I never would have tried at all.
I walked up to the front door of her house, rang the doorbell, and then took a step back. The lock clicked and the door swung open.
“Hello, Jason.”
“Hey. Umm, I came by to see if you wanted to go out tonight?”
“Sure, where to?”
“You pick. What’s your pleasure?”
I had always made it a point to ask her where she wanted to go. Yeah, I could have made all of the decisions, but I was assured a long time ago that Pizza Hut was not the most ideal place to go out on a serious outing, so it was best to let her decide. Besides, I didn’t want to get pizza sauce on a gold ring.
“There’s a place in town I’ve always wanted to go to. It requires a little dressing up on your part though.”
“Well, I did just buy a few new T-shirts and shorts.”
“It’s more like a coat-and-tie type of place.”
“Okay,” I replied, “so, like some of the choir things we’ve done, we should coordinate on color and all that?”
“That’s a good idea. I’m thinking red.”
“Red. Sounds good,” I replied, remembering that I had absolutely nothing that was red except for a T-shirt that I used to mow lawns in.
“What time?”
“Six thirty?”
“I’ll see you then.”
I kissed her lightly on the lips and then walked back to my car. I was glad I didn’t have the ring box with me, as I would have probably given it to her right then and there, but where was the romanticism in that?
We arrived at the requested elaborate establishment at about seven. I got out the car, rounded over to the other side, and opened the door for her. She had chosen a beautiful dress that only added to her radiance. I had decided to wear black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a tie—just to complete the ensemble. Fortunately, it was the same shade as her dress; that’s always a good thing.
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. You should have talked me out of this.”
“What? Coming here?” I asked as I opened the menu.
“Have you looked at the prices?”
“I’m not going to look at any prices until I get the check.”
“Brave man.”
“I’m about to get even braver.”
“And what does that mean?”
“You know me. I’m unable to describe exactly how I feel.”
“You’d rather show it.”
I nodded as I looked at her from above the menu.
“Why do I get the feeling that you have something else up your sleeve?”
I have to admit, I always had an issue with keeping secrets, and that afternoon, I was dangerously nearing my threshold.
“Me? No, I’m just going to be a stuffy date. You know, stare at my menu and not say a word.”
“You say one thing, but your eyes are lying.”
“I just can’t seem to keep a secret from you.”
“I’d like some things to be secrets. Like on my birthday or Christmas.”
“Since it’s not either of those, I can give you this.”
I reached into my pocket, pulled the case out, and opened it in front of her.
“Is that?”
“What?”
“That.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Just because I have small box that contains a round, shiny, gold…thingy in it.”
“And with this round, shiny, gold…thingy, you’re asking me what?”
“I’m asking for your hand and the rest of you too.”
“And you want me to say yes?”
“I was hoping for a yes. You can say ‘oui’ or ‘si’ or another equivalent if you want to. But I’ll have to warn you: that’s my limit on foreign languages unless we’re planning to go to Taco Bell later on.”
I walked over to her side of the table and saw, out of the corner of my eye, a teenager running through past the tables. He ran at lightning speed and then, seemingly, vanished.
“I don’t suppose you’ll take a no?” Tiffany asked as I stood next to her.
“Are you giving me one?”
“No.”
“No? Yes, or no, no?”
“Yes.”
“No?”
“No to the no.”
“Let’s start over. Hi, my name’s Jason, and I would like to marry you.”
“So you really are asking me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re serious?”
“Do I really have to go down on one knee?”
“It would prove that you’re really serious.”
What could I do but follow through to what she asked?
“Well, what do you think?”
“I think you’re insane.”
“You’re actually the second person to tell me that today.”
“Yes, I will.”
The other patrons in the restaurant clapped in a thunderous applause. I could not have planned it any better.
“Hey!”
I turned around to see a black-haired teenager, about my age, wearing blue jeans with a scabbard hanging from his beltline. He looked vaguely familiar, but I could not place him. He pulled a chair out from an adjoining table and sat down.
“Who are you?”
“Excuse me?” I asked in reply as he picked up a fork and took a stab at my dinner.
“Name!”
“Jason.”
He then proceeded to take a bite of my steak.
“Jason what?” And with that, he took the whole plate.
“Dennereck.”
“Ahh yes, and obviously, you’re Tiffany Creighton.”
“How do you—”
“This is great. Very tender. Angus?” He then stood up and motioned for us to get up as well. “Come with me.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m sorry to tell this to you, well, no, not really, because it’s true: this is all wrong.”
“What are you talking about?” Tiffany asked as he grabbed her hand and looked at her ring.
“This. Cannot happen.”
“Who—?” Tiffany asked before being cut off by the interloper with a sword on his belt. He sighed in annoyance and looked at me.
“Five years ago. We talked about something, do you remember?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
He had the two of us by the hands, leading us through an insane “yellow brick road”-like dance as we weaved through the dining area.
“Can I get clued in and ask what you are talking about?” Tiffany asked as she stared at him.
“You can.”
“Well?”
“Ask him,” he glanced toward me as I broke Tiffany and myself away.
“Let’s go,” I replied without answering.
Tiffany walked away with me as the teenager stood on top of a glass table.
“Before you go,” he bellowed out while teetering back and forth. “I need to ask you a few questions. Humor me for a moment, please. How did the two of you first meet?”
“At a weekend camp,” I answered.
“What year?”
“Nineteen eighty-eight,” Tiffany responded, beating me to the answer.
“What’s her brother’s name?”
“I don’t—” I began as he turned and performed a perfect somersault off the table.
“Strike one!” He bowed slightly and continued the interrogation. “Okay, what is the color of her eyes?”
“Gre—”
“Strike two!” He then turned to Tiffany as he paced around us. “What month were you born?”
“Apr—”
“Strike two and three quarters! And for the icing on the proverbial wedding cake, what’s your middle name?”
Tiffany looked at him and then to me with a quizzical look on her face.
“You don’t know the answer to these questions because this future was written by someone with a very limited view.”
I stared in shock and disbelief at this stranger as he kept walking around us.
“What do you want from me?”
“I can show you both how this future ends, but you won’t like it.
“How can you show us our future?” She asked.
“Not yours, just this one. Every page of it has been written, but only up to a point.”
“What point?”
“You sure you want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Good thing you’re dressed. We have a wedding to attend to.”

Give It Away

As I stood at the front of a church, I could feel a bit of subtle fear. Naturally, I’d feel a little bit of anxiety. You survive junior high then high school, and then you move out into the world. Sometimes, you take small detours…and sometimes you have to gun it down the interstate at maximum speed. This was that day for us.
Expensive, excessive? No, it was just as it was supposed to be. There were over five hundred well-wishers, members of family, and a few people who I had no idea about who they were, but hey, we were glad they were here. I stood in the front of a church with Keith at my left and a minister standing to my right.
“This tux itches in all the wrong places.”
“It’s a little late for that.”
“Yeah, I guess. I’m not wearing one of these to any wedding I may have.”
“Jeans and a T-shirt?”
“As long as they’re pressed and clean, works for me.”
“And the bride will wear…?”
“Whatever she wants as long as I don’t have to look at fabrics or pay for it.”
A massive pipe organ swelled up and bellowed out several chords, signaling the start of the procession. I looked to the back of the church as the doors swung open to reveal the bride.
I had waited for this day for six years, and now it was happening. The dress was ornate and beautiful, like something out of dream…as was the woman in it. All I could do was look at her as she stepped forward. I didn't want the moment to end, but I did want the ceremony to continue.
She stopped short of the altar steps. I held my hand out to help her step up and…there we were, standing face-to-face in one of the most pivotal moments of our lives.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to—”
“Point of order! No. Hold that line! That still sounds wrong. What’s the phrase? I object!”
Everyone in the church looked to the back of the sanctuary to see a teenager with a flaming sword walking down the aisle.
“Excuse me, could you come back here and talk to us? Yes, both of you. Hello, it’s a great wedding, really. Nice flower choices, by the way.”
“Who are you?” I asked as he sheathed the sword.
“What is it with you and always asking questions? I thought you would have grown out of it by now.”
I looked behind him and saw another me, standing next to another Tiffany.
“I’d introduce you all, but let’s not get redundant.”
“When does this happen?”
“This is just a few months down the road, my dear.”
“Why a few months?”
I stood at Tiffany’s side and looked back at the other two who were looking back at us.
“It shouldn’t be a shock to you…you wrote it.”
“Wrote what?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s a happy day! Perhaps a bit hectic, but hey, it’s the life you chose. And let me again reaffirm that you—as in the both of you, well, him—chose it.”
“I chose?”
“And under God, with the power invested in me and the state of soon to be total panic, I hereby pronounce you man and wife and baby girl. Congratulations.”
“What?!” Both girls yelled.
“Did you know you’re just as bad as he is with the questions? This is the way it was written. It all leads to this and this is all wrong.”
“We’re okay, we talked about this happening one day,” I said.
“One day, yes, but not when I’m—”
“Sixteen. You’ll be seventeen in…four months,” he replied as he performed some calculation on his fingers.
“I—”
“Finally seeing you how crazy all this is? How it doesn’t make any sense if you actually tried to follow it? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be able to compose your life and make it work just the way you want it to? You’d have all the answers, and everything would work out. The bad days would fly away like a memory…and they have, haven’t they, Jason?”
“Who is he?” I asked my younger self.
“I don’t know,” he replied, “but he’s been following us around for a while.”
“You do know; you just choose to ignore it. Something’s got into your head that if you didn’t do something so off-the-wall stupid, then you’d never see her again. You chose—instead of waiting to see what would happen—to take it upon yourself and create this.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Allow me to break it down then: Have you noticed the lack of sound around us? Or how about the fact that neither of you ran away in sheer terror? Or the fact that I’m nearly yelling and not one person has even looked this way!”
Our group of five looked at the now-empty church. I looked to the strange teen as he pulled out his sword, pointed it at us, and then struck the ground.

“Jason, are you okay? Can you hear me?”
I opened my eyes to see Tiffany at my side.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, thank you. Are you okay?”
We both stood up and took each other’s hands.
“Actually, I’m kind of afraid and confused about all of this.”
I took her hand. “It’s okay.”
“You don’t sound too convincing.”
I wasn’t, but I was fighting fear and apprehension and had to put up a brave front.
“We’ll be all right. I just have to think things through, I—”
“Thinking things through? That’s an original thought.”
I looked at our surroundings: we were back at the junior high school, in front of the band room.
“Prattville Jr. High…fall of eighty-nine. You’re both here…but you’re not supposed to be.”
“I remember being here though.”
“And what do you remember, Miss Creighton?”
“Going to school, of course.”
“Who was one of your teachers?”
“How are we supposed to remember who our teachers are? Who remembers that?”
“Let’s look at your yearbook, shall we? Oh yes, that’s right, there isn’t one!”
“Let’s go, Tiffany,” I said as we walked away.
“You still don’t get it, do you? Again, what is wrong with this picture?”
“Nothing. It’s perfect.”
“Let me tell you about someone I used to know. He was a real hardhead, a dreamer too. He wanted something for so long. I tried to get him to that point, but he went further, took it into his own hands, and became a jealous man. He took what he valued and locked it away, never to be seen by anyone else…just him.”
“Your point is?”
“Let’s just say that he destroyed the thing that mattered the most. It was hidden away, and it slowly died out. Now the Jason I knew would never let that happen. I wonder where he went. Did he die?”
“Who?”
“The one who really loves her!”
“I had to. It was going to end…that even if I asked her…even if I was able to, then it would all go away. It would never happen. You told me that!”
The teenager smiled and then shrugged his shoulders to me.
“The way you want it to, you’re right…it won’t happen. Welcome to life. That’s how it goes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not the author of it.”
“I can choose my future, I—”
“Yes. You can choose the road you’ll travel. You can choose the path you will take. But you can’t choose hers.”
Tiffany grabbed onto my arm and looked into my eyes.
“Do you know who he is?”
“Yes,” I replied. “His name is Gabe.”
“Welcome back to the real world, Jason Dennereck. What a trip, eh?”
Lydia then appeared on the other side of me and leaned in. “This is what you want. She’s here, you’re here. Nothing else matters but that, right? Don’t listen to him. Remember, he wants you to never see her again.”
“Who’s in your other ear? What is she telling you?” Gabe asked.
“Ever since I met you, you’ve been everything I ever wanted. I don’t want to ever lose you.”
“I don’t want to lose you either.” Tiffany replied.
“Both of you have a different life to lead.” He drew his sword—the flame shot out toward my ear. “Unique lives, ones that will be apart.”
“You belong together.” Lydia pulled two burning daggers from her belt and pointed them at my head.
“This is where the road divides. You need to realize that this is not the way it should be.”
“I can’t do it. I can’t let her go!”
“Then you don’t really love her.”
“I do!”
“Then let her go!”
“I can’t do that!”
I stood there with two flaming blades pointing at my head and the object of my affection in front of me.
“Jason. I can’t force you to listen to me. I know you feel in your heart that she’s everything to you, and I get that and it’s probably true, but—this is not how it’s supposed to be.”
I stepped forward and walked down the hallway with Tiffany. I looked back to see Gabe actually had his sword pointed at Lydia’s head, not mine.
“I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“That I did this…I—”
“Don’t be. You finally got to tell me, right?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know if this is a dream or a strange future or—”
“If it is a dream, what do you plan to do when you wake up?”
“I’m hoping we can still go to that dance.”
“Do you know how to dance?”
“I know the Virginia Reel, does that count?
“Square dancing? I don’t think so.”
“Well, do you know how to?”
“I can fox-trot, but I’m not going to in front of other people.”
“Okay, so we won’t dance at the dance. We’ll be just like everyone else.”
I let go of her hand, and there was a slight awkward pause.
“If this is a dream, just so you know, I won’t forget about you…even if I never get to see you again, I’ll always love you.”

* * *
 
“So, the beginning of the end, oh great messenger?”
“That depends on how you’re looking at it.”
“There’s no other way to look at it!”
“I think you fail to see the big picture.”
“Oh, please, tell me, oh great messenger, how does it end?
“In the near future, I can see a young woman and a man walking together through the forests and the wilderness—living their lives together. She loves her husband, and he in return—”
“Blah, blah, they live happily ever after—”
“Can I finish?”
“By all means.”
“I see another couple—”
“Another—? Never mind, continue.”
“They spend time with each other, taking walks on the beach.”
“But they are not together, never to see one another.”
“Of course they will. Love has a way of bringing people back around again.”
“But it’s not true love.”
“You’re right. It’s greater.”