Tempus (46 page)

“Right.”

“
Right
.”  She said the word like it had twelve letter ‘I’s.’

“
Seriously
, Julie!”

“
Okay
.  But don’t you think that’s a little weird?  I mean, he’s gorgeous and all that, but his dad was
creepy
at the café.”

“Thomas?”

“Oh, it’s
Thomas
, is it?  That’s his Dad’s name?”

“Yeah.  Actually, he’s pretty nice.  Especially for a professor.”

“If you say so.  But there’s still something weird, like what about those words written in your notebook?”

I had forgotten I’d sent her that.  Think, think, think.  Argh!  I didn’t want to lie to Julie, but I had to say something.  “Promise you won’t think I’m crazy?”

“No, but I’ll try not to.”  She laughed.

“I think
I
wrote it.”  I lied.

“
No way
!”

“Yes, way.  I’ll tell you why.”

I tried to explain that I kept dreaming about Gabriel.  I also reminded her of the historical porch-swing fiasco on my thirteenth birthday.  I told her there were almost, but not quite, fireworks with Steve, but that I also felt
drawn
to Gabriel.  Then I told her what my dad had told me about my mom.

“And so with all that, and then this morning he shows up as I’m about to plunge to my death.”  I left out the part where I was leaning out
because
of Gabriel.  “He came in my
house
, Julie, to
rescue
me!  He pulled splinters out of my hands.  There’s something there,
like fate
.”  I concluded.  I waited to see what she might say.

“Then why are you even asking me anything?”

“Because I don’t know what to do!  I don’t want to hurt Steve, but I can’t pretend I don’t feel something for Gabriel, as insane as it sounds. 
I drew his picture before we ever met
!  Doesn’t that
mean
something?”

“Yeah, probably.  I just don’t know what.  Maybe he’s the devil, sent to tempt you.”

“JULIE!”

“Sorry,” she laughed.  “I don’t know.  I wish I could help, but I really, seriously don’t know.  It all sounds too crazy, like a book or movie, or something.”

“I know!”

“Well, you’ll have to let me think about it.  I think you should still go with Steve tomorrow.  I wouldn’t make any quick decisions about anything.  You might be thinking clearer in the morning, too.  Maybe.”

“
Great
.  Thanks a
lot
.”  I couldn’t help but sound sarcastic.

“You still love me.”  She said.

“I know.  I’ll call you tomorrow.”

That was absolutely no help whatsoever!  Of course, being fair to Julie, she didn’t know the whole thing.  She couldn’t.  I was beginning to think that maybe I
was
crazy.  I looked at my watch.  It was nearing nine-thirty.  Earlier, I couldn’t wait for nine-thirty to get here.  Now, I wasn’t sure
what
I wanted.  Talking to Steve, remembering the past—Steve—Steve was real.  Steve had been here, for years.  Steve wasn’t going anywhere.  Even if time reset, if it
could
reset, Steve would still be right here.

All this time, I had associated Gabriel with an archangel.  What if he was the opposite?  Even as I thought it, I knew it was wrong.  Why would I have mixed feelings, if it were fate?  If Gabriel were my destiny, if there even were such a thing, wouldn’t I know that?  No, if I were already certain, that
certainty
would be unnatural. 
That’s
what wouldn’t be normal.

Insane, insane, insane!

This must be exactly how crazy people feel.  Standing in front of the mirror, looking at myself, watching a million emotions flicker across my own face—I looked like a stranger.  I had two minutes.  Two minutes to decide what I was going to do. 

I looked myself in the eyes, thinking that maybe I could see a clue in there, something that would tell me.  I could try; I could put my hands on the mirror and try.  I could also just go to bed.  I could turn off my phone, go to bed, and ignore the mirror.  I could wake up tomorrow and wait for Steve and go on living a normal life, as normal as possible. 

Sure I could.  Free will.  My choice.

The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.
—
Rabindranath Tagore

As if I had a choice.  Maybe I never did.  Maybe
none
of us do.

I placed my hands on the mirror, but my eyes were closed.  I don’t know why I closed my eyes—either I would see him, or I wouldn’t.   Fate would decide.  I would stand there a few minutes, and either Gabriel would be there, or he wouldn’t.

I
felt
the moment he was there.

I felt his hand on my cheek.  I felt him step close to me.  I felt his arms go around me, and I felt my hands release the mirror.

“If I open my eyes, will I see you?”  I asked.

“Yes,
you will
.”  I felt the words flow across my ear as he stepped back a little.

I opened my eyes.

Those
were the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen.  Deep, dark indigo. 
Magnetic
.  I trembled.

He had changed clothes.  He was wearing what I could only describe as a pirate shirt, long-sleeves rolled up and collarless, with drawstrings up the front, but hanging open several inches down his chest.  His pants were black, and form fitting, his shirt was tucked in neatly.  He looked like the cover of a romance novel, and I could barely breathe—then I realized I hadn’t changed clothes.

“Oh, god.  I must look
horrible
!”  I said.

“You look
wonderful
.”  His breath rolled over me, touching my cheeks, down my neck, and across my collarbone.

I trembled again.  “You cheat.”  I said.

“And you don’t?”  He looked me over.  “I could find
you
a million years from now.”

At that moment, I believed him.

His hands were on my waist, holding it loosely on either side.  “Would you like to sit down?”  He asked.

I had no idea.  I could have stood there and looked at him forever.  He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  I was back to believing the whole ‘archangel’ idea, because if he was the devil, my soul was in serious jeopardy.

“Are you the devil?”  I asked.

“
Hardly
.  What happened to the angel idea?”

“You already told me you weren’t.”

His laugh was deep and husky, not like an angel at all.  I felt that pull, and I stepped closer.  Any thoughts of anyone else went out of my mind entirely.  All I could feel was his presence as it completely enveloped me.  Now I knew how it felt to him when I imagined my heart wrapping around his. 

He swept me off my feet and carried me over to the bed.  I was helpless to resist.  Not that I wanted to, but I couldn’t have, even if I tried.  He sat me on the edge, sitting gracefully beside me, and smiled.

It was somewhat disorienting, and I put my hands on the bed to steady myself.

“Tell me something about you I don’t know.”  He said.

I thought for a second.  “That might be hard.  You remember things I don’t, I could repeat myself, and not know it.”

“I’ll stop you.”  He smiled a devilish grin.  Maybe Julie was closer to right than I was.

“Hmm.  Can’t you help me out?  Give me a hint?  What do you want to know?”

“Okay.  What do you dream of being one day?  What if you could be anything at all?”

Oh, good grief.  That was like ‘what do you want to be when you grow up.’  “I don’t know.  Haven’t thought about it much.”  He tilted his head to the side.  “Don’t say anything, either!  I know I should have some idea by now, but I don’t.  I used to think I wanted to be an artist, but according to most people, that doesn’t ‘pay the bills.’  I don’t really care about fame.  Or money, for that matter.”

“What if you didn’t have to ‘pay the bills,’ so to speak?  You could be
anything
.”

“I don’t
know
!”  Why did it feel like if I picked something, I’d either be stuck with it, or be picking the wrong thing?

“Okay, sorry.  Maybe this one will be easier.”  He grinned.  “What’s your favorite thing to do?”

Wow, easier huh?  “I like doing a lot of things.  I like working at the store.  I like drawing.  I like taking pictures.”  I realized I was quite a boring person.

“But what’s your
favorite
thing?”  He pressed.

I thought again.  There had to be
something
.  “My glimpses.  Being able to do that is my favorite thing.  But I also hate it sometimes.”

“Why?”

“Because I can never get the whole story.  Sometimes I see something that I wish I could see more of, but then I can’t.  It’s like watching a movie, maybe, but never getting to see the end.  Also, I don’t get to choose when to have them, it’s just random.  Sometimes I see things I’d rather not see.”  I thought of Mr. Henderson in the pink panties and laughed.

“What’s funny?”

I explained the whole “pink panty” episode, in great detail.  We were both laughing, and I had to tell him to quiet down.  It would be
very bad
if my dad heard us.

“Now you have to answer something for me.”  I said.

“If I can.”

“How did you get here, just now?”

He took a deep breath.  “I don’t know, for certain.  I can explain how it works with my father and me, or with other travelers.”

“Okay.  I doubt I’ll understand, though.”

He reached over and took my hand.  I could feel that pulsing magnetic electricity.  “Maybe I can’t explain how
exactly
, but I can explain what happens.  Let’s say my father and I are home and I decide to travel to one place or time, and he decides to travel to another, and let’s say I need him to come where I am.  I can ‘contact’ him, with energy.”

“Like what I did, through the floor?”

“It’s a little like that.  Do you remember anything about setting paths of mirrors?”  He asked.

“Yeah.  The bathrooms not suddenly the kitchen, or something like that.”

“
Something
like that.”  He laughed.  “When it comes to contact, the bathroom can become the kitchen, but only for a short while.  We call it ‘targeting,’ for lack of a better word.  You’d think we’d be more creative than that.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Okay, let’s say I wanted my dad to come here, now.  The last time he went through that mirror was Monday.  If he chooses simply to travel through it, he would end up here at the last time he went through, on Monday.  That’s the ‘path.’  But if I ‘call’ him here, he can target me, target my energy, and he’ll show up here at this time, not on Monday.”

I tried to picture it all in my head.  “So would that permanently change the path?  Could he never go back on Monday?”

“Very good.  That is correct.”

“So when you came through just now, did I call you here, or did you just ‘target’ me?”  I asked.

“A little of both, and I don’t know how much of which.  I wasn’t certain it would work.  I presumed it might because, well, when you touched me in the library—you have no idea how strange, not strange but—you shouldn’t have been able to do that.  Normal people can’t do that. 
We
don’t quite do that, either, not exactly like
that
.” 

“We target frequencies, basically electro-magnetic frequencies.  Every single person has their own, but an average persons’ is very, very weak.  People who can do what we do—it’s much stronger, and somewhat controllable.  We can direct it, to an extent, and use it to communicate, to an extent.  For us, it’s most often someone we are very close to, like family that we can target.  Interceptors are different though.”  He seemed to be trying to make something make sense.

“I heard you and your dad say that word a few times.  What, or who, are interceptors?”

“I told you how things can get messed up, and we have to fix them, right?”  I nodded.  “Interceptors are the ‘fixers,’ in effect.  If we detect something seriously wrong, it was caused by one of our kind.  My father, that’s what he does.  He finds the cause, the ‘person’ responsible, and informs the interceptors.” 

“They send an interceptor to target the root—that’s what we call them—before they caused the problem.  It’s typically an accident, just so you know.  Most of us are very careful.  We all know history,
future
history, and have a respect for the order of things.  I wanted to be an interceptor when I was younger.  I wanted to ‘save the world’ and be a hero, even if nobody ever knew but me.”  He laughed and shook his head.

“So do you still want to be an interceptor?”  It sounded intriguing.

“No, but not because I decided not to, though.  I can’t.”