Decisions. Decisions

        Frank took a deep breath. He was about to tell the story again. He looked at the man across the table and blew out a whistle through puckered lips. He put his hands on 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 14 caught my attention. It triggered a memory; on February 14, twenty-five years ago, a young girl I knew was murdered. Deep cuts had been carved along the length of her limbs. An incision was sliced down the center of her torso.” His downcast eyes drifted upward to meet his visitor’s gaze.

         “I collapsed into the nearest chair and blinked the fog from my vision. According to the calendar that I was looking at, February 14 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 That thing was outdated.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 the horrible day twenty-five years ago.” Frank placed his hands on the table, lacing his fingers together.

        “The very thought 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, ---- 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 unclenched his hands and pretended to hold a receiver near his ear.

         “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.” He again, folded his hands in front of him.

         “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's boyfriend raise his hands toward her, I tossed the last few bites of my sandwich in a slushy mound of snow. “Why didn’t the forest critters eat that damn meatloaf, eh? --- I picked up my hunting rifle,” Frank simulated his words by squeezing one eye shut as if he were looking through a scope. “Bang.” His head jerked, mimicking the kick from the gun blast.

         “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.

         The man said, “But you didn’t really believe it all was a dream, did you.”

         Frank didn’t know whether the question was rhetorical, but he answered. “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," the stranger said. 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, Frank lay on the thin mattress on the upper bunk in his cell, the ceiling only inches from his face. 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.

The End