Fairy Tale

It started when I wrote my name for the first time in my life.

Caleb. A bunch of shaky words scribbled on a piece of paper. I was five years old back then, or maybe four. I don’t remember much about my surroundings. Who was sitting next to me, if any at all, if I was in kindergarten or with my parents? If some friends were writing their names next to me, or if I were alone with my toys and imaginary friends.

What I do remember are the images that rushed through my mind the moment the tip of the pencil lifted from the B of my name. I saw them as clear as day. They burned and left a mark in my memories for decades to come. I saw myself writing a different name. Noah. I didn’t question it or ask who Noah was. I knew the name belonged to me. My mother leaned on the door of my room and called to me.

“Noah, it’s time for lunch,” she said with a gentle tone, the pink apron smudged with stains. I cheered and followed her to the kitchen before I opened my eyes back to the piece of paper in front of me, Caleb written on the top line.

It happened more times as I grew older. When I was seven, a group of kids approached me on my way home and asked me to play football with them in a nearby parking lot. I was a quiet and shy kid, but my heart brimmed with excitement. I wanted to say yes, but my lips hesitated. I remembered my mother’s warnings. Never go with strangers. I didn’t know back then if the strangers included a bunch of kids my age, but I still shook my head. They looked at me with grim faces and left without a word.

Images rushed through my brain. I had shouted a yes to the kids, and we all played football together. I scored three goals. One of the boys fell and scratched their knee on the asphalt, blood and tears coming out. The largest of the kids shot the ball so hard that it broke a car’s side-view mirror. We all ran with smiles curving our lips and laughter roaring through our lungs. I would later see them countless times, and some of them became my best of friends. I sighed, snapping back to my life, and watched the kids recruit another boy on the other side of the road. Maybe he scored the three goals in the end.

One summer day, when I was in high school, I went for a stroll with my best friend near the sea. We walked by the coast until we reached our favourite spot, a wooden bench near the lighthouse. Thomas and I would come here every weekend, each with a can of iced tea, he lemon and I peach. We’d stay there until the sun dived into the water and the stars came out to play. He’d joke how the sea had the power to carry our worries away, and that was the reason why we were happy all the time.

If only he knew.

On that specific day, a few days before the summer vacation was over, I wanted to tell Thomas about the images I kept seeing. I wanted to share this part of myself with him, to be able to speak freely about it, to let the waves gulp up this curse and toss it far into the horizon. I took a sip of my drink and watched the sunset. It was the most beautiful sunset in the world. No matter how many times I saw it, I never got bored of it.

“So what’s up?” asked Thomas, sensing the words stuck in my throat. I didn’t know where to start. Which life should I share with him? That’s what I’ve always called them in my mind, alternate lives. What else could they be besides that? My mind was showing me what could have been, sometimes showing me more than one fork for the same event. Should I have started with the very first time it happened? Or maybe the time I chose to play video games instead of studying for an exam? I had seen the life where I studied and ended up being the top of my class. Or maybe the one where I stood up to a bully in middle school instead of walking away while he tormented an innocent soul?

Instead, the silence lingered, and he waited for words that never came. I smiled and took another sip, “Nothing much. Just wanted to watch the sunset with you.”

The memories came rushing like they always do. I saw the me that told Thomas everything, watching his sceptical eyes and twitching lips. He wanted to laugh or humour my imagination. He never fully believed anything I said. Resentment grew in me, and I ended up avoiding Thomas day by day until we stopped being friends.

This part would become a reality in both lives. When I snapped back, the resentment lingered. I knew my best friend would not believe me, and I couldn’t stop my distrust from growing. I ended up losing my best friend regardless of my decision. Maybe it was fated, or maybe I made the wrong choice, but I trusted my instincts, and I never spoke about the alternate lives to anyone.

It wasn’t until my first year of college that everything changed. I was at a bookstore in front of the campus’s main gate when I saw her. I’ve always loved books. They reminded me that you can willingly choose to experience other lives in one lifetime without all the guilt and stress. But she was far more magical than any book. She reached for a specific book, The Giver by Lois Lowry, one of my favourites. I watched her grab the book and silently pump her fist, a small victory she’d achieved. Her short, light brown hair dangled over her shoulders, and her grey eyes beamed with happiness. She spotted me and gave me a silent smile. I felt the heat spread through my cheeks and ears. My heart beat quick, and sweat filled my palms. I smiled back in the end, but I didn’t say a word. I didn’t even give her a wave. She paid for the book at the counter and left, her colourful tote bag dancing with the wind across her shoulder.

The door closed behind her, and the alternate life came unwarranted. I saw myself swallow heavily and muster all the courage given by my ancestors. I pointed at the book and spoke to her, “That’s a good choice.” She smiled, curling her lips inwards and rocking with the book at her chest, “You like the classics?” she asked. “I read them from time to time, but I prefer to dive into fantasy and adventure books,” I replied.

“I love fantasy adventure books,” her face lit up, and it was the start of a long conversation which ended with her giving me her number, a date after a few days and a relationship which lasted a lifetime.

You see, I’ve never regretted anything in my life. I’ve seen different versions of the same event, things that could have been, and lives where I was far happier or successful, but I never regretted anything. Except for that time. A sense of dread came upon me. My chest hurt, and I clenched my fists so hard my nails almost tore through my palms. I felt like crying right there in the middle of the bookstore, but I didn’t. I took a deep breath and left without buying anything. For countless nights after, I’d dream of the girl. Of our dates by the sea watching the sunset, of the times we shared a couch in silence as we read our books, and even times were we fought and made up with a kiss after. The memories came more vividly on nights were I was alone and sleep escaped me. This other life would torture me, mocking me for the lack of courage I displayed in the bookstore.

With time, the memories faded as do all memories. I would remember them in passing and smile at the bittersweet life I could have shared with her. If only, I would repeat to myself at random times. The memories weren’t the only thing which faded. I stopped experiencing visions of alternate lives as frequently as I did. It still happened, but not as much as before. Maybe it was because my mind was too fixated on one alternate life, and so all others were obsolete in comparison.

I finished the first year of college top of my class. I went into the second year with high hopes and expectations. I’d spent the summer vacation exploring different cities of Europe, living an adventure like no other. The visions never ambushed me during my travels. I wondered if it was because I learned a valuable lesson. Nothing hurts more than regret. I’d rather live a life of mistakes than a life of what ifs.

One night during the second year, I visited the same bookstore. It was open twenty-four seven, one of its many perks. I was unable to sleep and decided to get a new book to keep me company. The smell of paper filled my lungs with tranquillity, and I found myself lost in the infinite choices of the life I wanted to live next. I moved from one section to the next until I landed on a new book by Stephen King, Fairy Tale. I picked it up with a wide smile curving my lips and headed to the front desk. The door flew open, and my heart skipped a beat as the girl of my dreams entered the store. Her hair was tied in a small bun, and she wore round glasses over her lovely grey eyes. She waved to the clerk and scanned the sections for a book. When she saw me, she smiled, and I wondered if she remembered me from so long ago. Her eyes fell to the book in my arms and she gleamed, “I love Stephen King. Is it a new book?”

The heat rushed to my face once more, but this time I was ready. I learned what regret felt like, and I wasn’t going to let hesitation beat me. “It looks like it. I read the blip on the back, and it seems like a really interesting read.”

“Maybe I should grab it too,” she whispered, and I fished for my chance.

“You can get it and we can read it together, like a mini book club,” I suggested, my voice breaking with every word. The girl smiled, and I melted. “I’d love that! We can talk about it together and share our thoughts. I’ll do that then.” And she ended up buying the book. We paid together and exited the bookstore to the soft breeze of the night. Lights from nearby lamps flickered, and the moon illuminated the night sky above.

“I’m Caleb, by the way,” I said, breaking the silence.

“Elodie,” she shook my hand. We chatted for a few minutes before she gave me her number. She was just about to leave before she turned back to me with her warm smile, “I’m a fast reader. You better keep up.”

“I’ll definitely keep up,” I replied, and my heart leapt with excitement. I couldn’t wait to get home and start reading the book, to text Elodie and discuss the book with her. I wanted to learn more about her, to go on whimsical adventures together and live an even better life than the one I envisioned a year before. But when Elodie left me on the streets in front of the bookstore, the vision came. I saw a life where I texted Elodie and we went on a date. It didn’t go so well, but we tried again. The second date was worse. I latched on to a false life I never had, and my desperation drove me to do stupid and embarrassing things. Elodie ended up blocking my number, and she rushed to avoid me the few times we met in public.

Why was I seeing these now? It was unfair. These memories were nothing like the life I was promised a year ago with Elodie. The frustration kept building up until I exploded, and tears ran down my cheeks. I hid my face on my way back to my apartment. I threw the book aside, wanting nothing to do with it. I would later forget the book altogether without reading a single page from its chapters. I deleted Elodie’s number. I wanted to avoid the stupidity of my actions and the life where I’d texted her. I wanted to avoid the depression I’d get after she blocked me.

In hindsight, maybe the life I saw only applied if I texted Elodie the same night or the day after. Maybe if I had texted her two days after or after finishing the first chapter of the book, I would have lived a completely different life. A life of bliss with Elodie, just like the life I saw the first time we met. I never thought too much about it that night, or any night in the following months. I just wanted to avoid the heartbreak. I wanted to keep my memories of a magical life with Elodie intact, and so I chose to live no life with her than a life where it could end badly.

I never saw another vision after that night. I graduated top of my class, landed a stable office job for a few years before I decided to dive into writing as a career. It started with a few blog posts, an article here and there, burning through my savings and a few nights of eating instant ramen for dinner, until I finally finished and published my book years later. It was a story inspired by my life, about a boy who lived countless lives in one lifetime.

I was thirty-four, reminiscing. I recalled many visions I’d had when I was younger. Some made me laugh, others brought back tears. I decided to take a drive past my old university and ended up in front of my once favourite bookstore. I recalled the times I bought a book to keep me company during lonely nights, or when I wanted to dive into a new world of fantasy and magic. I remembered the time I met Elodie for the first time, and the life I never had a chance to live with her. All memories in my mind had faded to dust, but the memory of her warm smile never left me. It brought a smile to my face every time. I wondered what would have happened if I had texted her the second time we met. Maybe I should have. Maybe I could have fought back fate.

I brushed all these thoughts away. I learned a long time before that dwelling on the past brought nothing but misery. Even after that second incident, I still chose to live a life of no regrets, and I could happily say I had none to spare. I entered the bookstore, the familiar bell ringing over my head and the sweet smell of paper cleansing my lungs. I said hello to the clerk and walked around the sections of the store until I stumbled upon my book on the shelf. It was a fascinating feeling to see a part of you available for anyone to pick up and read. I felt exposed, but the heat of excitement overcame it. A part of me was now in one of my favourite spots in the world.

I heard the bell of the front door ring. I didn’t pay it much attention until the woman stood next to me and reached out for my book. She stared at the cover, then turned to the back. Her eyes fell to a picture of me taken when I finished editing the book. Her lips curved into a smile, and my heart fluttered. It was the same warm smile, the smile that never left my mind. Her hair was longer and she changed her glasses, but the same grey eyes turned to me. I saw her eyes grow wide and her jaw drop at the realisation.

“I guess we just have a thing with meeting at this bookstore,” she said. I noticed the pink lipstick on her lips as she spoke.

“And I see you still have exquisite taste in books,” I teased.

“I heard this guy who ghosted me a long time ago published a book. I couldn’t let this chance slide to get my revenge by reading it and giving it a poor review,” she replied. A sense of regret came over me. I didn’t know what to say, so I just blurted the first thing that came to my mind.

“I didn’t end up reading Fairy Tale.”

Her shoulders dropped as she crossed her arms, “You’re not serious. It was such an amazing book, I loved it.”

I waited for a vision to come, for images to shatter my reality and disrupt my life with Elodie once more. But nothing happened. My mind remained blank, my eyes fixated on her beautiful grey eyes and warm smile. I took a deep breath. It was a first for me to charter my way, not knowing what would happen or might have happened in another life. I smiled and talked, hopeful of what may come. But no matter the outcome, I was happy. I’d live and see what would build up from there, a life shrouded with nothing but hope.