The Fateful Time Read online

from your throat and a single thin line of blood followed. Panic bulged your eyes and I tried not to cry. The phone! I scrambled for your cell phone that I conveniently threw over here and pressed the screen. It’s off. Cursing myself under my breath, I turned it on and shook it to boot up faster.

  “Hang in there David, it’s going to be ok. Oh, Jesus! Why?” And I can’t stop the tears this time. Your gasps and heaves stopped before the phone finished booting. I threw it against the wall. I wiped my bloody fingers on my shirt and then attempt to wipe the blood from your face. I only managed to smear pink across your cheeks. I closed your eyelids and leaned my head against your sopped chest.

  All I could think of were my words. How too late they were again, so I tell you now. “What we had wasn’t perfect, but it was worth keeping. I am so deeply, regretfully sorry for all the pain, and I will always love you.” I broke down bawling in the bloody pool around your body.

  After the tears cease to form, I wiped my raw nose with my sleeve and my hand brushed against my pocket. I remembered the trinket. Could it really work again? Can I really prevent your death? You seem fated to die, but I will find a way...

  I took the trinket out of my pocket and spun the dial. Whiteness washed everything as the large block letters started ticking time. I spun the dial, and kept spinning. Back and back. With a smile, I closed the lid at the precise time and replaced it in my pocket.

  Shuffling papers and murmurs echoed off the mauve walls and off-white floor tiles. A row of booths with metal bars resembling a bank’s stood in front of me. Suddenly the shuffling papers and murmurs came to a halt. The teller in front of me dropped her pen and didn’t retrieve it. I saw faces around the room staring at me. No one moved. They seemed afraid to speak or unsure what to do. In my hand I found a packet of papers and upon lifting them to read, I saw blood all over my sleeves. I released a sigh of relief.

  “It’s ok, really,” I announced to the terrified onlookers, “I dyed my shirt, but I guess I should do it over.” I let out a weak laugh. Slowly the patrons started about their business again, with the murmurs growing.

  I read the top sheet of the papers in my hands, “Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.”

  I tore them up, flung them over my head, and ran out of the building bursting with happiness. My heart swelled as my pulse raced. The purse in the crook of my arm bounced as I ran and my hair flew everywhere. My heels could barely handle the strain clicking against the pavement. No cab for me today, I decided. I kept running down the sidewalk. People turned to see what the ruckus was about, surely alarmed by my disheveled bloody appearance with a manically happy look on my face, but they didn’t stop me.

  I ran straight for the skirt’s apartment. I knew on your lunch break that day, that’s where you were. Today I wasn’t upset. I bounded up the flights as if my feet were landing on cotton. I didn’t feel the burning of my knees or my lungs. I reached her door and pounded over and over.

  Slowly the door opened a crack. Skirt’s eyeball peaked through.

  “Can I help you?” she asked. I knew she was hiding her fear, I could hear it in her voice.

  “David please.”

  Skirt’s face flickered for a second. “No one here by that name, sorry.” She started closing the door, but I jammed my foot in the way. The door stopped on my toes, and I shoved the door open, flinging Skirt back. She cowered at the sight of me and retreated to her couch, but the smile on my face never wavered.

  “David? David, I know you’re here.”

  Sure enough, you stepped around the corner, pale as a sheet. My bloody clothes didn’t help the situation any.

  “Let’s go, we need to have a chat.” I grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you outside. Your arm quivered under my grip. On the sidewalk, I spun to your face and said, “I offer my apology now,” I slid the smile from my face and the words came out sincere, “What we have isn’t perfect, but it’s worth keeping. Drop the skirt. I forgive you. I am so deeply sorry for all the pain and neglect over the years. I love you David, I always will.”

  You searched my eyes with confusion and fear. The wonder of the secret of Skirt stood just behind your eyes. So many questions, so many answers, and now all the time in the world.

  You answered, “Cherie, I love you and I don’t want to lose you. I’m sorry for Skirt. I didn’t mean for that to happen. Can we just go home?” Tears started to well in your eyes and a single sniffle almost cracked my strength. I hooked my arm into yours and we strolled down the sidewalk together, arm in arm. It was the best and longest conversation we’d had in years. I even convincingly detailed a shirt dying gone wrong. Thank you ivory trinket. I am forever in your debt.

  END

  Personal Message from Stephanie Flynn:

  I hope you enjoyed my short story. Come on back for another story or check out the series Intergalactic Pandemonium. Please take a moment and leave a review at your favorite retailer. Much appreciated!

  About Stephanie Flynn

  Stephanie Flynn is the author of the young adult novel Taming the Iris as well as a slew of science fiction short stories and poetry slowly being added to tabs above. She lives in Michigan with her children and husband. When she’s not glued to her computer, she’s inhaling books about words, books about novels, books about publishing and a little bit of everything else: chick lit, horror, science fiction, fantasy, and the classics. She gravitates toward writing thrillers and romance novels; sometimes both inside one cover, and science fiction short stories.

  On the odd day Michigan has warm weather, her family enjoys kayaking, biking, rollerblading, and walking in the parks.

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