Chapter 16: The Thing About the Book

 

(This is a excerpt from Chapter 16: The Thing About the Book--A Time Traveler's Companion.)

“Remi, I didn’t notice that you came in. I thought I heard the front door earlier and assumed you had left. Did you go out?” 

“Actually, I went hiking with Leila,” I lied. The truth is I was having lunch with Mr. Smith. 

“Oh, I thought Leila was working today?” my mom asked.

“She had a schedule change,” I replied, continuing the deception. “Sweetheart, I’m really sorry,” she said, taking a breath. “I didn’t mean to upset you, and you were right; I shouldn’t have looked in your diary.”

I gave her a soft smile. “It’s okay mom, let’s just forget about it,” I responded, and accepted her apology. She mentioned that she had the day off and asked if I wanted to join her for some shopping. I smiled and agreed. We headed out and I made a stop at that nearby thrift store, where I had spotted Tracy’s granddaughter assisting a customer and once, she finished, I approached her. 

“Hi, I’m not sure if you remember me, but—”

She cut me off, saying, “Of course, you’re the girl who bought the book!” I nodded in acknowledgment and asked, “Do you know where the author lives now?”

 "My grandmother passed away in the early 2000s," she disclosed, leaving me momentarily stunned.

 "Oh, I'm really sorry to hear that," I replied, feeling a wave of sympathy. "It's alright; my mom often shared tales of my grandmother's escapades with her time traveller,” she fingered quoted and smiled, “I'm glad you enjoyed the book," she continued, and my heart sank. The revelation hit me hard, not only was Tracy gone, but she had travelled with Mr. Smith at some point in the past. The realization was painful, and I felt a deep sense of loss, my heart sank. I left the shop, seeking comfort in the familiar spot where I had first spoke to Melanie, where my mom was waiting for me now. "What’s wrong?" My mom sensed the sorrow etched on my face.

 "It's nothing," I lied to her, but her gaze pierced through my facade. Leaning against her, I fought back tears that threatened to spill.

  "Sweetheart, it can't be as terrible as it seems." I inhaled deeply and straightened up.

  "Let's head home; our soap opera will be starting soon," I suggested, hiding the ache within. As we settled in to watch our beloved soap, my thoughts drifted elsewhere, haunted by the words Tracy's granddaughter had shared with me. I headed upstairs and took a shower, feeling my face heat up. Once in my room, I plopped down on my bed and picked up the book, flipping through the pages. I hit a section where Tracy perfectly detailed Mr. Smith’s bedroom, and my heart sank. That’s when I noticed the monolith materializing in my room. Tears started rolling down my face as a mix of anger and pain bubbled up inside me. When Mr. Smith stepped out, he noticed how upset I was. “Remi, what’s wrong?” I was sprawled on my bed, face buried in my pillow. 

He sat beside me and gently rubbed my back, trying to soothe me. I shot him a glare before turning away and hiding my face again. He seemed puzzled, not grasping my behavior, until I reached over to my nightstand where I placed the book and tossed it at him. He glanced at the back where Tracy’s photo was, and with a simple, “Oh,” I knew he finally understood what had happened.  

"Why did she go on trips with you? You slept with her, didn't you!" I shouted, my anger boiling over.

He sighed deeply, "I'm sorry, Remi. I did take her on a couple of trips, but I didn't sleep with her. When she joined me, she was already married and had a child."

“How did you manage to contact her?” I asked, my voice laced with suspicion as tears streamed down my cheeks.

 “I provided her with a phone, much like yours,” he said. “Why would you do that?” I pressed.

 “When we first ran into her, she said she wanted to tag along on our adventures, but I could see you were a bit jealous. So, after we dropped her off and I took you home, I headed back to 1969, where I thought it’d be fun to take Tracy on a little trip, and I took her to…” I interjected, “Tarislee?” my voice laced with a hint of accusation and sarcasm. He looked at me with a smile and planted a kiss on my forehead. “No, my love, I took her to the Century 21 Exposition World’s Fair in Seattle back in the 1950s.”

My brow furrowed, I shot back, laced with sarcasm, “So why haven’t you taken me to any of the world’s fairs?” He let out a soft sigh, taking my hand and planting a gentle kiss on it. “I promise, I will—maybe next time.” 

  “Did you take her anywhere else?” I asked, wiping tears from my eyes. He gulped and responded, “Yes, Tracy had a passion for time travel and often shared how much she wished you could accompany us. She truly loved you, Remi."
“How? She barely knew me,” I thought to myself.

"Please, continue,” I said.

 "Eventually, she contacted me in her late 30s, excited about the idea of one final adventure together. I had no idea she was chronicling our experiences in a book." He paused briefly before adding, "I have strong feelings for you, but it pains me that you kept your friendship with Melanie hidden from me." I took a deep breath, though traces of anger remained. Reflecting on his words, I came to understand that we had both, in our own way, let each other down. I kept quiet about Melanie, and he never mentioned his time-traveling adventures with Tracy, so we were on equal footing. "Alright, I guess that makes us even,” I said. He gently turned my face to look into his eyes.

 “Remi, did Melanie share anything else with you?” I took a deep breath and replied, “No,” knowing I was being dishonest. He let out a sigh, flashed a smile, and nodded, “Alright, Butterfly.” I kept to myself the fact that Melanie had revealed his true name.

 “From now on, let’s promise to be completely honest with one another,” he said as I sat up straight.

He wrapped his arm around me and continued, "I want to avoid repeating the mistakes I made with Melanie. I truly love you; my feelings for you have deepened, and my heart is yours, just as yours is mine." I nodded and he held me firmly in his arms. “Tracy’s granddaughter mentioned to me that she passed away in the early 2000s. Were you aware of that?”

He sighed deeply, “Yes, the AI had actually informed me well in advance that Tracy would succumb to an aneurysm and recommended that I take her on some trips to show kindness.” Hearing this made me feel a pang of sadness for Tracy. I sighed.

  “I understand,” I replied, reflecting on whether I should have made more of an effort to connect with her. He left after spending some time with me and around seven o'clock in the evening the doorbell rang just as I stepped into the living room from downstairs. I went to answer it, and to my surprise, it was Mr. Smith standing there. I couldn't help but smile, my jaw dropping in shock.

 "What are you doing here?" I asked, noticing the way he looked at me with such affection. He was wearing a dark brown leather jacket over a crisp white shirt, complemented by jeans and a black belt, with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Just then, my mom appeared behind me, raising an eyebrow.

 "Oh, Mr. Smith, what brings you here?" she asked, her tone a bit wary. “I came by for a visit,” he replied. He strolled in, handing my mom the flowers. He discreetly winked at me. We sat down in the Livingroom. I found myself reminiscing about the intimate moments we had shared, a soft blush creeping onto my cheeks. It appears he caught onto my thoughts because he gave me a subtle smile. The glance he shot my way didn’t go unnoticed by my mom. She shifted in her seat; her forehead creased with a bit of confusion. As she took a sip from her mug, her eyes darted between us, filled with suspicion. Now that she knows I am having sex, she’s eyeing every guy who I talk to as being the one who I am dating, and honestly, she’s not far off this time.

 “Your dad will be here soon. He was working late. When he comes, we will have dinner. Would you like to stay for dinner Mr. Smith?” she asked.

  “Yes, I would love to,” he responded and glanced at me with a smile. He did not want to create suspicion, especially since my mom was on high alert now, wanting to find the person who deflowered me. I gulped. A few minutes later my dad arrived home. “Look who’s here Robert?” Mr. Smith stood up from the sofa and shook his hand.

 “You’re that teacher from the college, right?” Mr. Smith nodded. We all headed to the dining room for dinner. Tim, my stepbrother, was the last to make it down. He shot a wary look at Mr. Smith and then glanced at me, like he had an inkling of what I was hiding. “Does he know?” I pondered. After a nice dinner, Mr. Smith said his goodbyes. “I’m sorry, but I must head out. Thanks for the lovely dinner, Mrs. Lucan,” he remarked, taking my mom's hand and giving it a kiss, making her blush. My dad shot him a curious look. Mr. Smith shook my dad's hand and then left. I know he will head to the monolith, which is probably cloaked somewhere at the park. It will appear in my room later, I’m sure. Night fell and everyone was asleep, As Mr. Smith enveloped me in his warm embrace, we surrendered to the gentle pull of slumber. There’s something undeniably enchanting about the way he holds me close, a tender gesture that fills my heart with joy. The thought of being without his comforting presence is simply unimaginable, for his arms are my sanctuary, a haven of romance where dreams intertwine. As the sun peeked through the curtains, I slipped into my work clothes, ready to tackle the day. 

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