5 Minutes More

I saw the happiest moments of my life from approximately 24 different angles. I also saw my life crash and burn from approximately 24 different angles. No – that’s a lie, I saw it from 22. But the principle remains the same. To explain is difficult, to say the least, so I’ll have to take you back to the beginning. The original one.

April 16, 9:38.

It’s a cool autumn morning, and leaves in brilliant shades of magenta, amber and rust litter the footpath, crunching rather satisfyingly beneath our three feet. Eli has finally been released from the hospital, but he’s in crutches, so to make up for his immobilised left leg I’m crushing all the more leaves for him. We’ve been best friends since we were- what- five? 12 years of putting up with me certainly warrants maximum leaf destruction. To celebrate Eli’s partial freedom, we’ve decided to go to the yoghurt shop a block away, damn the weather. Really, things couldn’t be better: I’m managing not to fail at school, I’ve earned a prized Ministry of Time internship, and Eli is finally able to walk- well, hobble.

“Is it just me, or are there more people than usual?” He asks. I frown, my eyes sweeping our surroundings. He’s right, I didn’t notice before, but there’s a crowd about, scattered along the street and the park opposite the road. Our town is small, so seeing so many people is unsettling. Moreover, I don’t recognize most of them; there’s a small man with a pork pie hat in an oversized suit he’s drowning in, a blonde our age hysterically sobbing on a park bench, and many more odd characters.

“You’re right. They must be here to witness my magnificence.”

Eli snorts. “Get over yourself, Akari.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re all staring in awe at me.”

“What if it’s me? I’ve been told I’m enchantingly good looking.”

I open my mouth to retort, then an old woman steps in our path. At least, I think she’s old, from her hunched posture and the massive brimmed hat obscuring half her face. She takes in a breath as if to say something, but in the blink of an eye totters off. I look at Eli, bewildered, but he only shrugs his shoulders, equally flummoxed. He clears his throat.

“I think they’re looking at us.”

“Who?”

“Everyone.”

I surreptitiously look over my shoulder; and sure enough, besides the stores on our right, we are getting glances from all directions. Even though no-one’s facing our direction, I get a peculiar feeling that we’re in a movie scene- and we are the stars.

“By the way,” Eli blushes. “I got you something.” He fishes out of his pocket a bracelet with an azure moon charm, and hands it to me. My lips curve upwards in a smile, and I glance up at Eli watching me anxiously, his ink black hair falling into his eyes. We’re at the intersection, and I’m about to- I don’t know- Swear? Kiss him? Hug him? When I’m suddenly knocked backwards onto the pavement. For a moment, the air leaves my lungs, then as I start to get back up, I notice Eli sprawled on the road, wheezing in pain.

“Hang on!” I scramble to my feet. That’s when I notice the car, crimson, like the blood dribbling down my scraped shins, rocketing towards Eli.

“ELI!” I scream, stumbling towards him, but I trip over his fallen crutches and slam onto the unforgiving pavement. Everything swims in and out of focus, and I see eyes, eyes, eyes, staring, glancing, glaring, and I have a final moment of clarity; Everyone really is watching I wonder. Then everything goes black.

3 months later

Eli hasn’t woken up yet. The longer he remains in the coma, the less likely it is he will. Miraculously, he survived the crash, but suffered a traumatic head injury. My bracelet? Shattered to blue dust. I used to talk to Eli for hours at the hospital, but all I did was talk to a corpse. At some point I stopped visiting. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see him.

Everyone’s worried, I can tell, about the dark shadows under my eyes. I’ve continued school, my internship, pretending it’s all fine. I now sit cross legged on my bed, in a silent, vacant house. My parents have left on a month-long trip, opening the opportunity to take this foolish risk. Hands shaking, I examine a clear marble with a pulsing light inside. It’s a replayer, or crudely put, a time machine that I swiped from the Ministry of Time during my internship.

I’ve never used one before. They’re priceless, but I’ve been taught the theory. I know the rule; don’t change the past- I just want to see Eli again. Realizing I can’t let myself recognize- well, myself, I pull on one of Dad’s suits, the long pants puddling at my feet. I’m also wearing one of his horrible hats to cover my long hair- Dad has an abysmal taste, and I dug up a felt hat he considers makes him look ‘suave’. With a huff of annoyance, I pull the waist high up, then clench my fist around the replayer.

I get 5 minutes. 5 minutes of Eli. 5 minutes more. I squeeze the replayer, and funnily enough, it becomes soft, and yields. “April 16, 9am, 38 minutes past.” I breathe. “Replay”.

The girl and boy are goofing off together, cheerfully raining chaos on the carpet of autumn leaves. I wonder if they know I’m watching. Almost as if the girl hears my thoughts, she turns. I look down, fiddling with my excessively long sleeves. If only Dad wasn’t so tall. I suddenly realize that I’m the small man I saw 3 months ago. I’ve already seen myself; I just didn’t know it. I take a chance and peek at myself. I look so… happy. Oblivious. Time rapidly slips through my twitching fingers, as I follow them making their way down the street.

I don’t remember how I spawned at the park, but that’s part of the replayer’s magic- it knows exactly where you desire to go. I pray that no one noticed my appearance out of thin air, but a quick glance confirms no one is paying attention to me. A massive hat catches my eye, and I hastily refocus to watch the old lady approach Eli and I. Once again, she totters off without saying a word. Without thinking, I trail her, curious- what did she have to say?

“Miss!” I call as loudly as I dare. She freezes, then slowly turns. “I was wondering-” I begin awkwardly, when her head tilts up, and she looks straight at me. Oh my god. It’s me. Dressed as an old lady.

“Listen carefully.” She warns. “Eli is about to be hit. The past cannot be changed! But saving the bracelet won’t affect anything, I’ve got to save the bracelet.”

I cross my arms. “Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?” Then I realize, indeed, I do know. “Never mind.” I hurriedly add. “But how on earth do you plan on snatching it out of my- our hand?”

“I tried to get it earlier.” Older me shrugs. “But I miscalculated. You better get it.”

An almighty screech of tires and chorus of screams hits my ears. I turn in horror, and from this point I cannot see the scene, yet strangely enough none of the bystanders are moving. They’re just… watching. Older me winces. “Our 5 minutes are up. Good luck.”

I come back to my bedroom, the replayer rolling across the floor. I guess it stayed behind in the present. My stomach feels like it’s where my heart is meant to be, and my heart feels like it’s lodged in my throat, choking my thoughts. I slip out of Dad’s suit then sprint to the bathroom to throw up, repulsed at the idea of returning for the bracelet. Yet- who knows if Eli’s ever going to wake up? I want to have a piece of him to carry, and I want to see him- alive again.

The next day, I’m dressed in a ridiculous outfit, complete with the monstrous straw hat I found at the bottom of Mom’s closet. My heart is beating at a million miles an hour. I’m not ready. I won’t ever be. I clench my fist. I replay.

This time, I spawn inside a store on the street I’m currently meant to be on with Eli. Frantically looking around, I search for witnesses- luckily, it’s only the cashier, who’s asleep at the counter. I take a deep breath and force myself to remain calm. I can’t mess up the timing. When I estimate enough time has passed, I exit the store, taking care to hunch my shoulders. There! There they are! I make a beeline for them, looking down to conceal my face. I glance at my younger self’s hands, but they’re empty. Damn it! The bracelet is still in Eli’s pocket. I did mess up the timing. Inwardly cursing, I move away. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Each second is a gift and a curse. Knowing what comes, I wander through my remaining minutes in a dreamlike state.

I return to the present, slick with sweat, splayed on my bed, screams echoing in my ears. No success. But a part of me is itching, desperately wanting to go back. 5 minutes more a voice whispers. I resist the urge.

I fail to resist the urge. The next day, I replay. And the day after that, and then after that. Days merge into weeks. I feel the walls closing in, but it’s a blissful suffering, so I’m not obliged to discontinue. If you asked me why I kept on returning to this particular 5 minutes of history, I really couldn’t say why. Maybe it was to see Eli animate. Maybe it was because I could escape the burdens of the present when the ticks and tocks held too much weight. Around my 5^th respawn I realized all the people watching Eli and I on that day were- me. Too terrified to count how many times I would replay, I shrouded myself in comfortable ignorance, choosing not to know how much of my life I would spend trapped in the past.

The first time I saw the actual crash, a primal shriek tore out of my lungs. I spent the next day in a panicked state, but still replayed, wearing a blonde wig to disguise myself. I spent my 5 minutes in a breakdown, achieving little else. How many times I replayed, I don’t know, yet all of these times I was content to watch, do little else but witness the disaster over, and over. Past. Present. Replay. Repeat. I stop leaving the house. I live as an empty shell of a person, only awakening for a golden 5 minutes every day. I muse if Eli is the comatose one or if I am.

Then, one day, I decide to act- I’m going to retrieve my bracelet. During my replays, I noticed a bicycle rack in the park with a silver bike unlocked. I resolve to ride past and snatch the bracelet out of my hand. After all, if Eli gets hit by a car seconds later, theft won’t be on my younger self’s mind. I obsess over the plan from the moment I concoct it, giving me purpose, something to cling to. When my sacred 5 minutes arrives, I sit on my bed, a bike helmet tucked under my arm, my entire body trembling with anticipation. This is it. A rap at my door propels me to my feet, but no, my parents aren’t meant to be home yet, it’s probably just the postman. Whoever’s at the door knocks again, sharper this time. I’m petrified at the idea of having to face someone- I’m in no fit state for any social interaction. Before the intruder can knock again, I replay.

Spawning directly beside the bike rack, I no longer bother checking for witnesses; everyone in the vicinity is either a past or future replay. With grim determination, I fasten the helmet on my head and wheel the silver bike out, eyes scanning the pavement. Then I spot them, Eli handing me the bracelet, his cheeks flushed, worried, and sweet. I watch myself handle it like it’s the most precious thing in the universe, and for a second, I’m struck by how that’s her bracelet, not mine. I’m not who I used to be, I’m just someone driven to the brink, wrung dry of emotion. Then the charm glints under the weak sun and steely resolve steals over my heart. I swing my leg over the bike and pedal furiously, aligning myself with the pavement. As I rapidly approach, a thought strikes me that turns my blood to ice.

What if I’m not changing history? What if I’m writing it?

Letting out a panicked sob, I try to slow down, but I’m going too fast. I’m going, going, gone. In a last-ditch attempt to veer off I make a sharp turn, but fail miserably, crashing through them, skidding across the road. I crumple in an alley behind a store, still able to see everything that’s happening. When the weight of what I’ve done settles in, hot tears sting my face, leaving burning streaks. I watch, helpless, as the car rapidly approaches Eli’s spasming body. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. I slump against the wall, and contemplate, not for the first time, if this is even worth fighting for anymore. Then through slit eyes, I see a tall figure approaching me. Suddenly, Eli’s in front of me, eyes flashing, frantically checking my bleeding limbs. He’s totally fine, without a scratch, except for a scar running across his forehead.

This is it. I’ve finally gone insane.

“I’m sorry.” My voice comes out as a hoarse whisper, rough from disuse. I throw my arms around him, even if this is only a hallucination. Then I freeze, as I see another battered and unconscious Eli lying in the middle of the road. That’s my Eli.

“Who are you?” I demand.

“Who do you think?” Eli imposter retaliates, sounding strained, yet amused. Before I can respond my 5 minutes is up.

I find myself bleeding on my bed, and Eli is staring at me.

“One would presume I’d lose my mind in a more dignified manner.” I finally manage.

“You’d think I’d receive a better ‘welcome back’,” Eli scoffs, and that’s when I know it’s really him. I launch myself forward and hold on like my life depends on it, running my fingers over and over his back, the physical warmth reassuring me, yes, he’s here.

“How did you find me?” I ask softly.

“I only woke up a week ago. Apparently, you weren’t responding to anyone’s messages, hadn’t been seen out for weeks, so I came to check on you. I heard someone, but by the time I’d found the backup key, there was no one here. I found the replayer and took a lucky guess.”

He rubs my neck soothingly, and asks quietly “Do you want to move? We should clean up these scratches.”

I nod against his shoulder, breathe in deep. “We’ll get to that. But I just need a few minutes here, now. Five minutes more.”