Short Story Sunday: Last Chance

Hey, I'm back!

I'm getting used to this new work schedule, and I apologize for the missed updates.  Tonight's tale is the first in a continuing series, which I hope you'll enjoy for a while to come.  Without further ado, I present...

Last Chance

John stood at before the slab, unmoving.  Everyone had left hours ago.  Only he was here, alone in the field of stones.  He stared at the slab, and eventually realized his eyes hurt.  He blinked slowly, painfully. His eyes were dry.

He cast his mind back to the day he met Denise.  They’d collided on a city sidewalk, sending her armful of papers flying.  He’d been so shocked and concerned as he helped her collect everything he hadn’t realized how beautiful she was.  As he handed her a stack of her out-of-order papers, he paused, his apology caught in his throat. 

“Don’t worry about it.” She’d said, brushing a rogue hair from her face. “These things happen.” She smiled, and he felt his heart leap up his throat.

“I... ah...” He stammered.  Be cool, man.  Say something coy. “I’m...”

“Sorry, I’m running late...” she said, deflating his soul in an instant. “But I think you dropped this.  See you!” And she was off, down the street and around the corner, out of his life forever.  John felt the deepest loneliness, knowing he’d let the love of his life escape without so much as a sentence.  He wanted to lie down on the street and die.

He looked at the object she’d pressed in to his hand before sprinting away.  It was a business card.  Some publishing house.  ‘Denise Lennon’.  It wasn’t one of his.  He’d never even heard of the place.  He threw it away.

He made it all the way to the street corner before he realized what he’d done. 

He hurtled back, charging through people like a linebacker.  “Excuse me! Sorry!  Pardon!” he exclaimed, not looking as he pushed people aside. 

There it was!  Lying on the ground, face up, with a piece of chewing cum stuck to the top.   Thank god.

Then somebody stepped on it.  And it was gone. 

John panicked.  There was a man in a suit, about as tall as himself, walking purposefully away from him with the most beautiful girl in the world’s phone number stuck to his foot.  What the hell do I do? ‘Stop!  In the name of love!  I need your shoe!’ ran through John’s head. He would have laughed if it wasn’t so important. 

He followed the man.  He could see a corner of the card sticking out of the shoe... maybe, just... just maybe....

The man kept walking.  He walked and walked.  He managed to catch every green, miss every pedestrian jam, he was the luckiest walker in the history of the city.  Finally, he stopped. Without turning around, he spoke.

“Why are you following me?”

Shit.

John cleared his throat.  “Well... you’ve got something stuck to your shoe.”

“And you care because...”

“Because it’s mine.” He could feel his confidence welling.  This might turn out okay.

“And for the last forty-five minutes, instead of stopping to tell me, you’ve been... what... waiting for me to stop so you can surreptitiously remove it?”

Okay, so it sounds fantastically stupid when said out loud.  “More or less.”

“I see.” The man turned around.  He was an older gentleman, with a harsh face.  A familiar face.  John was puzzled by the feeling the he knew this man, but more concerned with the card.  Too concerned to care about anything else.   He lifted his foot, and peeled off the card, holding it out of John’s reach. “Why do you want this so badly that you’ll chase an old man around the city for the better part of an hour, without thinking?”

“Love.” John blurted out without thinking.  But it was true, he realized.  He didn’t, he’d never believed in love at first sight, but how else do you explain it?  What else can cause a man to completely forget himself in a heartbeat, and careen about with such singular purpose?  “Yeah.”

The man eyed him harshly, almost angrily.  He was being studied by the old man.  Like he was searching for something, the way you scour your brain for a memory that just won’t come.  He extended his right hand, holding out the card to John.  “That’s a shame.” Was all he said. 

John looked at the wrinkled, scarred hand.  It was inflamed, red and covered in what John was sure were scars from countless punching matches.  Who the hell was this man? 

He reached out and took the card.  “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, boy.  Don’t ever.”

And the old man turned, and walked away.  John stood there, puzzled, watching the man retreat and finally disappear, until Denise Lennon walked out of the office he was standing in front of, and almost bumped into him.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, a huge confused smile on her face.

“Hey!” He replied, smiling back and tilting his head in utter confusion.  They stared at each other for a moment, each unsure of what to do with this development. 

“So...” he started, feeling the helium high of pure happiness filling his head. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

He’d never told her that story.  Now, he never could.  He’d never told anyone about the box, either.  It was raining now, and he was in his backyard.  He didn’t remember driving home.  He was digging the box out.   He mechanically lifted the shovel out of the wet earth, and worked his way down until his spade hit wood.  He threw it aside, and bent down, tearing at the earth with numb hands. 

He lifted the small box out of the ground.  It was featureless, save for a logo of a hand on the top, dyed into the wood.  Inside was the gun he’d found.  The one he hid.  Just in case. 

In case. 

He breathed deeply, and opened the box. 

No gun.  No bullets.  Just an envelope.  As he had done with every important object in his life, he threw it away in a rage.  He collapsed into the wet dirt, and didn’t move.  He would never be with her... not even in death.  He was paralyzed, crippled by depression.  If only he could go back... if only he could change... anything.

He lay there, until the hole started to fill with water, and he was forced onto the lawn.  He crawled forward, to the box.  It lay there, closed, mocking him.  He opened it again.  Who had replaced his precious cargo?  Who even knew?

He tore open the envelope inside, stared at the contents, and was reborn.

Possibilities he’d never considered swam before him.  There was a chance... a slim chance.  An insane chance. 

But he knew that for her, he would do it.  He would destroy the laws of time and space, and he would change the past. 

For her.