The Remains of Time

Thomas moaned and groaned as his eyes fluttered open, waking up to start another day. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his face, feeling the rough stubble on his cheeks. With a sigh, he made his way to the bathroom.

He looked at himself in the mirror and flinched at the reflection staring back at him. An old man, weary and lined with age, gazed back.

“When did I get so old?” he murmured to no one in particular.

After freshening up, Thomas dressed in his usual attire—a comfortable shirt and trousers—and exited his room. The inviting aroma of food wafted through the air, guiding him to the public dining area.

He grabbed a bagel and poured himself a cup of steaming coffee before sitting in front of the TV. He reached for the remote and pressed the power button, but the screen remained dark.

“Blasted batteries must be dead. I'm sure this hotel has some lying around somewhere,” he muttered, glancing around the room.

His eyes landed on an old cabinet in the far corner, its drawers slightly ajar. Thinking it was an excellent place to start his search, Thomas walked over and began rummaging through the drawers. He noticed a cable hanging down in the third drawer and gave it a gentle tug.

A click echoed in the quiet room, and a hidden drawer popped open at the bottom of the cabinet. Curious, Thomas knelt and peered inside. Nestled within was an old, handmade leather binder.

He pulled it out, feeling the worn leather under his fingers, and shut the drawer. Flipping through the pages, he realized it was someone’s unpublished manuscript. The pages were typed instead of printed, and the yellowed pages crackled softly as he turned them.

Thomas flipped to the first page and read the title and author's name: "Forty Years Later by T.J. Spot." He couldn't help but chuckle at the name.

“Probably some rubbish, but I've got nothing better to do,” he muttered as he took the manuscript back to his chair, the quest for batteries forgotten.

He glanced at the manuscript's date—it was over forty years old. Opening the first page, he scoffed after reading the initial paragraph.

“This is what he decided to open with? My god, I could come up with better openings in my sleep than this sap did here. It's not surprising it was hiding away,” he said loudly. He looked around to see if anyone was near enough to hear his critique. Two people sat at a table talking, oblivious to his presence; essentially, he was alone. He sighed audibly before returning to the manuscript.

After a few pages, a nurse walked up to Thomas and sat beside him, holding a small cup with a pill.

“Good morning, Thomas. It’s time for your medication,” the nurse said with a warm smile.

Thomas searched his pockets and found an old candy wrapper; he took it out and used it as a bookmark, then turned his attention to the nurse.

“Good morning, Miss,” he replied, taking the pill and admiring the nurse as she sat there. Something captivating about her smile made his heart skip a beat.

He took the pill without question, even though a part of him knew he should have asked who she was. However, men were notorious for doing foolish things to impress the opposite sex, and Thomas was no exception. The nurse's presence and kindness were a bright spot in his morning.

“What are you reading?” she asked, her voice cutting through his thoughts.

He perked up at her question. Was she interested in him? He wondered. This was his chance to impress her.

“Nothing great, just some poor sap’s manuscript I found in a hidden drawer. I just started it, but so many things are wrong with it.”

“Oh… like what?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, for starters, the author's name is T.J. Spot. Spot is a name for a pet, most likely a dog. Who would want to read something from someone who can’t pick a decent pen name for himself?

“Second is the opening paragraph of this book. It describes how he met his wife when she walked in on him, masturbating for the first time. And it was described in detail.

How many people will he turn away in that first paragraph alone? After reading that, I almost tossed the book in the rubbish bin.”

“But you didn’t,” she noted, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“No, I did not. Don’t take this the wrong way, but oddly, I felt the irony and awkwardness of the moment.”

“So, is that why you kept reading it?” she asked, leaning in slightly.

“Of course not. I kept reading it because I am a gentleman, and a true gentleman always finishes what he starts,” Thomas said with a smirk.

“Is that right?” the nurse asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It is, and there are many fine qualities a gentleman must possess. I can show you these qualities if you are interested.”

“Thomas, are you flirting with me?” she teased.

Thomas smiled, “Just offering some wisdom.”

The nurse stood up. “I need to get back to work, but how about we start with that book?”

“And how are we going to start with this book?” Thomas asked, intrigued.

“I don’t have much time to read, so how about after you finish reading it, we can sit, and I can listen to you tell me all about it?” she offered.

“Sounds like a fine date to me,” he said, holding his breath.

“Then it’s a date,” she replied, smiling before returning to work.

Thomas couldn’t help but smile as he watched the nurse walk away. It occurred to him that he didn’t know her name, but that was a problem he could remedy later. For now, he had a book to finish. He stood up, walked to the kitchen, emptied his unfinished coffee, and poured himself a cup of tea. With his steaming cup in hand, he found a cozy seat by a window and continued reading.

By noon, someone called out that lunch was ready. Thomas had finished about a third of the book by then, so he placed the candy wrapper in the book as a bookmark and went to get his food. The weather was beautiful, and he sat outside under a tree to eat.

He sat alone, preferring the peace and quiet to continue reading, but his solitude was soon interrupted by a man who walked by and sat across from him.

“Are you still reading that book? I feel like you have been reading that thing for an eternity now,” the man said.

Thomas looked up at the stranger. He didn’t recognize him and was about to respond, but a butterfly fluttered by, capturing the man's attention. The man became utterly engrossed in the insect, his focus shifting entirely away from the conversation.

Thomas watched, intrigued, as the man stood and chased after the butterfly, seemingly oblivious to everything else. The insect's bright colors had an almost hypnotic effect on him. Once the man was out of sight, Thomas shook his head with a bemused smile and returned to his book.

Thunder rang out in the sky, forcing Thomas to head back inside. By the time he did, he had already reached the story's halfway point. He found a corner with a few empty chairs and decided that would be his next spot to sit and read.

A few dozen more pages into the book, he felt the presence of another person. He slowly looked up to see a middle-aged man sitting in the chair right beside his. The man was quietly doing a crossword puzzle but noticed Thomas when he looked at him.

“Four-letter word for evil animals’ home?” the man asked.

“Lair,” Thomas said without hesitation.

“Well done,” the man said.

Thomas stared at the man for a long minute.

“Do I have something on my face?” the man asked.

Thomas shook his head. “No, I apologize. You just look familiar.”

“Oh, well, I’m Dillon,” the man said, holding out his hand.

“Thomas,” he replied, shaking hands.

“You know, there is a Dillon in this book I'm reading. He is a little kid, smart as a whip, and constantly finds himself in trouble. He is probably one of my favorite characters in the story.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, the story is okay, but the kid, I think, is what really carries it, at least for me. I think if I had kids, they would be just like this one,” Thomas said with a strange feeling in his chest.

“I have a son; he sounds like the Dillon in your story but with modern-day amenities,” Dillon said with a laugh.

“Oh, really? Tell me about him. This book makes me curious about the adventures these kids get into,” Thomas said, placing his candy wrapper in the book and putting it on the table.

Dillon put the crossword puzzle down and leaned forward. "Okay, so last week, you won't believe what my son did…”

For the next two hours, Dillon talked about his son while Thomas shared anecdotes and stories, he learned from the book he was reading. They laughed and bonded over the tales, finding common ground in their shared appreciation for the mischievousness and intelligence of young Dillon.

When they parted ways, they promised to talk again the next time Dillon was around. Thomas felt a warm connection, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He looked forward to their next conversation and the stories they would share.

By dinnertime, Thomas had just passed the three-quarter mark of the book and was now standing and slowly pacing while reading. Anyone watching Thomas at that moment would have been thoroughly entertained, seeing an old man shuffle back and forth with a book in hand, his facial expressions changing drastically every few minutes as his emotions took a rollercoaster ride. Those with keen eyesight might have even caught a brief moment where a tear fell from his eye.

At one point, Thomas stopped pacing and became concerned about how the book would end. He felt there weren’t enough pages left to tie up all the loose ends floating around. He held onto hope as he read on, but that hope quickly vanished when the main character made a crucial mistake, creating even more loose ends.

Thomas paused, cursing at the book under his breath. He glanced at the fireplace, then back at the book. “You see that? That's where you're going to end up if you don’t end well,” he threatened the manuscript.

Frustration boiled over as he read another infuriating passage. He slammed the book shut and swore he wouldn’t read any more of it. But his resolve only lasted a minute. His curiosity got the better of him, and soon he was back in his chair, reading.

At seven, Thomas sat alone as he finished the book's last page. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and with a satisfying smile, he closed the book and gently placed it on the table next to him.

He was pleasantly surprised when the nurse walked over and sat down beside him.

“Did you finish it?” she asked.

“I did,” he said with a nod.

“Was it as rubbish as you thought it would be?”

Thomas smiled. “You know those qualities of a gentleman I was telling you about?”

“I recall you mentioning them.”

“Well, one of the important things is for a man to admit when he is wrong. And I sit here before you and confess that I was gravely wrong for the horrible things I said about the book, for it is one of the best things I have ever read in my life.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. It’s a tragedy that this is hidden from the world. I wonder if the author ever managed to publish something?”

The nurse smiled. “I looked him up, and he published many books, including a few bestsellers and one international bestseller.”

“That’s fantastic news. Good for him. I don’t think I could have ever written something like that.”

The nurse laughed. “I'm sure you could if you tried.”

“Maybe one day, I’ll try my hand at writing. See what comes out of this old mind of mine. And speaking of old minds, I must apologize. I forgot to get your name earlier.”

“It’s Emily,” she said with a smile.

“Oh, that’s a fantastic name. You know, that’s the name of one of the characters in the story, the main character's wife, to be more specific.”

“Really?” Emily asked with a smile. “What was she like?”

“Oh, Emily was an amazing woman, perfect to a fault. But let me start at the beginning and tell you about the story like we agreed on.”

For the next two hours, Thomas talked about the book, sharing the intricate details of the characters Emily and Dillon, who seemed to hold a special place in his heart. When he finished, they called it a night. Emily walked Thomas to his room, and he asked her what room she was staying in. She lied and told him it was the room at the end of the hall. They shared a small kiss before Thomas closed the door and got ready for bed.

Emily walked to the front and gathered her things. She looked over to see her son sitting down, doing a crossword puzzle, waiting to take her home.

“Hi, Dillon,” she said, approaching him.

He stood and gave her a hug. “Hey, Mom, you ready to go?”

Before she answered, she glanced back into the main area and saw the book Thomas had been reading, which was still sitting on the table.

“Oh, just a moment. Your father left the book on the table, and I forgot to put it back.”

“I’ll get it,” Dillon offered.

“Okay, make sure to cover it with that powder. It makes it look like it's been lost for years.”

Dillon laughed. “Yeah, Mom, I know how this is done. We've only been doing it for half a year now.”

Dillon put the book in the secret drawer and sprinkled it with powder before closing it. He returned to his mother with a satisfied smile.

“Do you think making Dad read his own book every day is helping?” Dillon asked.

Emily smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know, but I do know that every day, I get to see the man I fell in love with look at me with adoring eyes and brag about me, to me. I’m old, but being with him makes me feel like I’m the seventeen-year-old girl he proposed to all those years ago. And to have that, all I need to do is hide an autobiography in a cabinet for him to find. For that, I will do it every day with a smile.”

Dillon nodded, understanding the depth of his mother’s love and dedication. “You’re amazing, Mom.”

Emily squeezed his hand. “Thank you, sweetheart. Now, let's get home.”

As they walked out together, Emily glanced back one last time at the assisted living facility. She felt a pang of sadness mixed with joy. As much as she missed her husband, each day was a gift, a chance to relive their love story, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything.