Fitzgerald What's Done is Never Done

1. Auflage 2011
ISBN: 978-1-61792-956-4
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 200 Seiten

Brian is a no-nonsense, straight forward, scientifically minded type of guy, but his world is turned up-side-down when a chance encounter with an offbeat fortune teller results in an unwilling trip back in time to the night of his ten-year high school reunion. While visiting this critical juncture in his life, Brian takes the opportunity to make a few adjustments in order to remedy, and avoid, what had eventually become his very unhappy marriage to a not-so-pleasant classmate. Changing the past has repercussions Brian hadn't considered and reversing the damage his tampering caused is enough to make one swear-off time traveling for good.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Fitzgerald, Dan

Leseproben

Chapter Two Seizing upon this golden opportunity, Dickie went straight to Step B of his master plan and Brian found himself being squeezed into the back seat of a taxi between Cheyenne and Summer.  Dickie hopped into the front seat next to the driver. “What is this?  Where are you taking me?” Brian asked. “It’s a surprise, my man,” answered Dickie. “This is gonna be like so much fun!” Summer giggled. Brian tried to focus his eyes on Cheyenne, but as hard as he tried, he still saw two cleavages, four eyes, two nose rings, two big hairdos, and oddly enough—still one, small IQ.  He was feeling no pain and did his best to snuggle up to Cheyenne’s bosom as she checked her nails in the moonlight.  He couldn’t help but notice how good she felt—how soft and warm she felt as their bodies pressed tightly against each other in the crowded cab.  He thought about what Dickie had told him earlier regarding Cheyenne.  Did he hear Dickie correctly?  That she was a virgin?  She didn’t look like a virgin.  For that matter, she didn’t look like an accountant, either.  But, a virgin?  Virgins have a certain look to them, don’t they?  He was beginning to think maybe not. Virgin or not, it had been quite a while since he enjoyed the feel of a woman that he could stand to be near.  The last several years had been pure hell living with his soon-to-be ex-wife, the evil Gwyneth, daughter of Satan, symbol of all that is cold and uncaring, icon of meanness.  The type that would keep a couple of Boy Scouts tied and gagged in the trunk of her car – just for laughs.  Other than those few flaws, she’s maybe not that bad, he thought.  Then he reconsidered and took another swig from the flask of bourbon.  Who was he kidding?  She was all that and more.  No sense in denying the obvious any longer. The cab rolled along the streets of Los Angeles and Brian noticed that the more they traveled; the seedier the neighborhoods became. Brian leaned forward, tapped Dickie on the shoulder, and lamented, “In a way, the color of Cheyenne’s hair reminds me of Meggie.” Dickie groaned and sank farther into his seat. The cab driver, an exotic-looking man dressed in a white robe and speaking with an accent of unknown origin, looked into the rearview mirror at Brian.  “Lean back, kind sir.  Thank you veddy, veddy much.  I cannot see.” “Who’s Meggie? Cheyenne asked. “Don’t ask,” Dickie warned.  “C’mon, Brian.  I thought you were over her.” “Who?” Brian asked. “Who?  Meggie!” Dickie answered. Brian’s face grew sad.  “Now why did you have to bring her up?” “I didn’t.  You brought her up.”  Dickie reached back and took the flask of bourbon from Brian.  “I think you’ve had enough.” “Driver, I’ll have a coffee,” Brian slurred. “I have no coffee.” the cab driver said. “No coffee?  What kind of a cab is this, anyway?” “It is taxi cab, not Starbuck,” the cab driver answered.  “Now, tell me too, who is this Meggie?  I must know.” Dickie shook his head.  “Not good.  Not good.  Let’s just drop it.” “Tell him, Dickie.  Tell him about my Meggie,” Brian insisted. “I don’t like where this is going,” Cheyenne chimed in. “I did not choose destination,” the cab driver said. “I don’t like where this subject is going,” she said, as she looked at the driver through the rear-view mirror.  “You just keep driving.” Dickie looked at the cab driver who, like the two girls, was now all ears.  “Okay.  If it’ll shut you guys up.  Ever since high school, Meggie was the love of Brian’s life.  But for a reason none of us can quite figure out, he didn’t marry her like he always planned to.  Instead, he married another lady—and I use that term loosely—named Gwyneth.” Brian genuinely looked shocked at this news.  “I did?” “Yes, you did.  I was your best man, man.” “No, the best man would have stopped me.”  Brian turned to Cheyenne.  “He probably was the worst man.”  Brian laughed at his own joke.  Someone had to. “I tried—at the ten-year reunion.  You remember.  Meggie and Gwyneth were both there—and both single.  You were all single, but you left with Gwyneth that night.” “Get out of here!” Brian said, between hiccups.  “I couldn’t stand Gwyneth back in high school,” Brian insisted. Dickie continued.  “You’re right.  In high school you didn’t like her.  None of us did.  But the ten-year reunion was another story.  You had a choice that night, my friend.  You left with Gwyneth and the rest is history – unfortunately for you.” “Why did I do that?  Brian asked as he tried to suppress a belch. “If you don’t remember any of that, I’d say you’re going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.  Anyway, that’s the story.” Brian looked shocked and mumbled a slow, “Wow.” “That is like so sad,” Summer whispered. “Wow,” commented the cab driver, not having heard a story this shocking since the letter from home announcing the removal of cousin Tabooboo’s hand – thanks to a botched shoplifting attempt at the outdoor bazaar. The cab continued down the boulevard as Brian closed his eyes and mulled over the story Dickie had just recounted.  Brian was somewhat confused and felt sick.  He wasn’t good at being drunk.  Even his usually neatly trimmed hair was now in complete disarray, almost as an outward symbol of his current state of mind.  Could it be true?  He was aware his brain was operating on a few sips of alcohol—okay, several sips—so maybe that was the reason his life sounded so off-track when summarized in a taxi.  He had always had a certain amount of regret about his marriage to Gwyneth, or would it be more accurate to state that this regret was more due to his not marrying Meggie?  He knew it was a little of both, but mostly the latter. Meggie was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman and more: thoughtful, caring, beautiful, and smart.  Now that he was married to someone else, he wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that he could so easily recall the precious moments he and Meggie shared together, as if they happened yesterday.  Even as far back as when they were fifteen together, he could look deeply into her eyes and practically see the beautiful and complete woman she would surely someday become. Certain moments were indelibly etched into his mind. He remembered that after every humiliating defeat he suffered as a member of Hamilton High’s pathetic basketball squad, the team bus would return to the school parking lot and he’d spot her waiting for him in the cold night air—and his heart would melt. He’d give anything to once more sit with her atop the weathered bleachers of the football stadium, mesmerized by her long, golden hair as it danced about the edges of her sweet face in the crisp autumn breeze. And when the days would turn warm and the late afternoon sun would cast long shadows across the deep grass of Hillcrest Park, they would lie together and he’d read to her from the kind of poetic book that—at least his buddies were led to believe—he wouldn’t be caught dead with in a gazillion years. He remembered matinees and the way he always fell asleep with his head on her shoulder halfway into “Return of the Zombies from Mars,” which, he insisted, they see despite her mild protests, and how she endured the remaining hour of more-than-bad acting and corny special effects so as not to wake him. And just about when he thought enough time and finally passed, creating too great a distance her ghost must travel in order to haunt him, some woman in a crowd would walk by and stir the air with Meggie’s perfume and it would all come flooding back; a tidal wave of emotion with undercurrents of regret and sadness. He wondered how he ever lost track of her after high school.  They were to attend separate colleges in separate cities and it wasn’t supposed to be a problem.  They’d write each other, they said.  They’d take time out and meet somewhere midway, they said.  Surely they would.  What they had was too good to be affected by only a year or two apart.  But time marched on and life had a funny way of interfering with the best laid plans, and one day they each woke to find that they were indeed living separate lives.  Still, not a day would pass without the sincerest intention of taking a moment or two at a phone somewhere and tracking down a friend of a friend who might know the whereabouts of someone who was once upon a time the most important person on earth, and now was ever so quickly becoming someone not so familiar. “We’re here, man.  Hey, snap out of...