Typewriter

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, my mind raced as I tried to grasp on to the last straw of my sanity. Hesitantly I flipped the newspaper over, baffled that it was on actual paper. My heart stopped as I read the date Sept 14 1994. Wary glances were cast my way as I tried using my finger and thumb to zoom in on the newspaper to look for any sign this was a practical joke. I found nothing, except a blackened thumb and index finger. Cold sweat began to pour down my back as the store's patrons stopped to look at me. 

“You alright kid?” a man in a plaid shirt asked, resting his hand on my shoulder. He gave me a cautious once over before pulling his hand away. My eyes widened as I recognized the man, his features softer and younger than they were in all the pictures. The same features that I see in the mirror every day. “Dad?” I wheezed trying to catch my breath, only problem was my dad had been dead since 1994.

“This is some of your dad’s old stuff,” Grandma said, pushing the door to the storage room open. I gagged as the overwhelming smell of mildew and dust flooded my nostrils. Taking a deep breath I plunged into the dark room. A chain rattled and a moment later the room was illuminated by a single light bulb held in place by the impossible number of cobwebs.

Absently grandma began handing me my dad’s old things, telling me stories about when he was a boy. How he loved to ride bikes, play darts and billiards. As the hours passed it became harder to hold back the tears that now streamed from my face. Her eyes softened as she held up a picture, holding it close to her chest trying to give her son one more hug. 

“It’s been ten years since he was hit by that car but I can still feel his arms around me, whispering in my ear, I love you mom” She sat down unable to hold back the sobs that racked her fragile frame. “You look just like him when he was your age” She smiled, wiping a tear from her wrinkled cheek then held up a finger as though she just remembered something. “He left something for you,” She wobbled to her feet steadying herself as she placed her hands on her knees “This was supposed to be a present on your eighteenth birthday” She waved her hand dismissively “But you know how us old people are” Chuckling she pulled out a large box, dropping it in my hands. 

I sat at my desk, my heart pounding as the excitement overwhelmed me. Even after all these years my dad was still surprising me. I felt like a kid on Christmas as I ripped open the box, throwing the frayed tape and cardboard to the side. What is that? I thought as I lifted it from the box. Three rows of round white keys stared up at me, each imprinted with a letter of the alphabet. I had seen one of these before, a long time ago on my fifth grade field trip to a museum. 

Cautiously I touched the keys, jumping as the top made a chunk sound and slid back to it’s original position. Placing a piece of paper at the top I began to type, feeling my spirit soar as I found a new connection to my dad. Before long the rhythmic tapping of the keys matched the rain against the window. I wrote about how much I missed my dad, how I wish he could be here. I even wrote that I wish I had been there that day the car hit him, so that maybe, just maybe I could have done something to save his life. 

As I typed the last letter the chunk of the typewriter was drowned out by the crackle of light and thunder as the whole house shook. Sparks danced along the keys as I jumped out of my seat. Then the room went black as something hit me on the head. 

“You alright kid?” The man asked again, eyes wide. “You took quite the fall, do you need help?” I shook my head, trying to clear the black from my vision. The man gasped as I wrapped my arms around him before realizing what I’d done. “I’m, a flattered, but I got a wife and a son at home” He chuckled, god I missed that laugh.

“Sorry” I said, my cheeks turning hot. “You just look a lot like…” I trailed off, trying to speak past the lump in my throat “my dad.” He laughed harder this time and smiled while picking up his shopping basket.  

“Well he must be a handsome man then,” He began reaching for his pocket “You sure you don’t want me to call someone for you” I shook my head then looked at the newspaper again. My mouth fell open as I realized what day it was, I knew this day far too well. 

“Wait” I said, panic filling my voice “You can’t leave” I grabbed his arm as he turned to go. “Trust me you can’t leave yet, I know you have no reason to listen to me, but” I stopped knowing this was going to sound crazy “something bad is going to happen if you walk out that door” He cocked his head to the side and studied me. 

“Like what, I’m going to die?” He chuckled. “Yes” I whispered, with all the seriousness I could muster. “You walk down that street and get hit by a station wagon, you leave behind your wife Rebecca and your son Nate” His smile faded as he pushed me against the wall. “What did you say?” Throwing caution to the wind I went for the truth “I’m your son Nate,” I choked out “Please dad, don’t go” 

He stood back, once again dropping his basket. Before he could say another word a car alarm blared from the street, we both looked to see a station wagon crumpled against the light post. The driver door opened as a man toppled out, a brown bag with broken glass fell from his lap. “How did you…” my dad asked, turning back to me. But the kid that stood before him was gone. 

“This is some of your dad’s old stuff” Grandma said, pushing open the storage room door. A wave of fresh paint drew me in as I stepped into the brightly covered room. “Sorry for the mess, we just finished painting” She chuckled lightly “You know how us old people are.” She beamed as she walked around the room. Everything had a story, every story paved the path down memory lane. I listened for hours as she told me endless stories about my dad. 

“There you are” A familiar voice said from the doorway “I’ve been looking for you” Grandma’s smile broadened as she looked up. She jumped up, spilling old photos on the floor. Her arms widened as the two hugged, from across the room I heard the voice whisper “I love you mom”