A Dreadful Decision

Frank took a deep breath; he was about to tell the story again. He looked at the man across from him and exhaled, a whistle escaping his puckered lips. He folded his hands on the cold, steel surface of the table and leaned in.

“It was a Sunday,” he began. “I came upon the wall calendar as I was sorting through the advertisements and flyers from the newspaper. A yellow posted note that said, “Pay It Forward,” was adhered to the cover. As I flipped through the pages, checking out the retro artwork, a stick figure of a person drawn in the block of February fourteenth caught my attention. It triggered a living nightmare that happened twenty-five years ago. A young girl I knew was brutally murdered by her boyfriend, her name was Kelly O'Hair. Deep cuts had been carved along the length of her limbs. An incision was sliced down the center of her torso.” Frank swallowed audibly, his downcast eyes drifting upward to meet his visitor’s gaze.

He continued. “I collapsed into the nearest chair and blinked the fog from my vision. According to the calendar that I was looking at, February fourteenth was on a Monday, the night of the week the murder happened. Valentine's Day was on a Tuesday that year I received the calendar. That thing was outdated. Whoever gave it to me was intentionally reminding me of that horrific crime twenty-five years ago.” Frank slid his hands from the table, his knuckles resting on the seat between his jouncing knees.

“The very thought of someone dredging up something I tried so hard to unsee, made me angry; I began erasing the pencil-drawn character one limb at a time. One leg, then the other. An arm, the other arm. The torso. The head. It was like playing hangman in reverse. The room began to spin, and I squeezed my eyes shut. After opening them moments later, I felt—well I felt discombobulated.”

Frank spoke quickly but deliberately. “The blocks on the counter said the year was 2000. The wallpaper was the wallpaper I had in my kitchen that year. Through the window, I could see Kelly—alive. The phone on the counter rang so I snatched it off its charger.” He lifted his hands to the right of his jaw line and talked into an imaginary phone.

“It was Bill O’Hair asking me to man the grill at the barbeque. I was speechless. I hadn't seen him in years. After a long, awkward silence, he said, ‘Valentine's Day get together in the cul-de-sac.’ His number was in the caller ID memory, so I promised to call him back.” Frank placed his hands back on the table, lacing his fingers together.

“At that point, I figured I was dreaming, one of those lucid dreams, the kind where you know you’re dreaming. And if that were the case, maybe I would be able to change the outcome of that day. If only for a brief time.”

He cleared his throat. “I recalled that Kelly and her boyfriend were going to spend the night camping at The View, the location of her murder. I called Bill and declined the invitation before grabbing my hunting rifle and driving to the site. On my way, I stopped at a mini mart and purchased a meatball sub.” The man across the table raised his eyebrows.

Frank took another deep breath before prattling on. “Kelly and her boyfriend were already assembling their tent when I arrived. After surveying the premises, I crouched behind a rotted out, tree stump. An hour passed and I unwrapped my sub. When I saw Kelly trek into the forest, leaving her boyfriend alone to make the fire, I tossed the last few bites of my sandwich in a slushy mound of snow. I picked up my hunting rifle,” Frank simulated his words by holding an make-believe rifle and squeezing one eye shut as if he were looking through a scope. “Bang.” His head jerked, mimicking the kick from the gun blast. — I wouldn't have gotten caught if the forest critters ate that damn meatloaf.”

Frank fidgeted in his chair and said, “The forest began to spin, colors melding, shapes morphing. I felt sick to my stomach. The feeling was a flash from the past in more ways than one, let me tell you. —Anyway, I cupped my hands over my face. When I removed them, I was lying on my back, and the ceiling was inches above me. I thought I was in a coffin.” The corner of Frank's mouth went up in a half smile, but the man sitting across from him was expressionless.

“Obviously, I wasn’t in a coffin, I was on the top bunk in my jail cell, and I was told that Kelly O'Hair was alive, a well-known, but not well-liked, politician. —Time travel, I believe I experienced time travel. I actually was transported back in time that day. Someone did give me the opportunity to make sure Kelly O’Hair had her future.”

The man said, “I’m here to give you this,” he slid the calendar across the table. “I found it amongst a stack of old magazines at your house.”

“If you hurt my sister or her kids…” Frank pounded the table with his fists, his handcuffs clanking against the metal surface.

“Don't worry I didn't hurt anyone. You're the only one who even knows I was there.

“Are you paying it forward by helping me break out?”

“Something like that. I want you to make sure Kelly O'Hair doesn't live long enough to ruin my career.

“Which day would you like me to draw Something on? — and remember, there will be consequences.”

“I have babies depending on me, I can't go to jail. You're already in jail.”

Frank opened the calendar and saw four sad face emojis sketched on January 1.

That evening, he lay on the thin mattress on the upper bunk in his cell, I wish I were in a coffin, he thought. He had twenty-three hours to decide which day he’d prefer to alter. He pondered how many lives would be affected this time. Intervening in life’s grim realities is going to be the death of me.

End