May 16, 2011

  • The Man Beside Me

    I woke up with a start. The alarm clock was ringing noisily, and the room was half-lit already with the morning sun. I was almost late to work, but if I could just shut off the alarm without stepping on my belt buckle, then grab some underwear and...
    "Uhhhh"
    I ran into something in front of my alarm clock...no, someone! at least my height, standing perfectly still in front of the alarm clock. Big hands lightly grabbed my biceps to keep me from falling. "It's ok, don't worry, man, it's me, Joe!" the voice called. I suddenly froze and looked up, because my name is Joe...and that sounded like my voice.
    It was me. Older, for sure, but somehow stronger. Dressed in what seemed to be a v-neck robe. His hair was completely white, but judging by the rock-hard abs I had run into, he could take me down easily. I looked down at his hands. One had what was unmistakably a wedding ring. The other had a very expensive watch and a large ring, almost the type you'd see a football player wear for winning a Super Bowl. What did this mean? Finally I looked at his face again, and realized that the man had been patiently waiting for me to finish studying him. He was quiet, but I could see sweat on his forehead.

    "You do better when you have a chance to study without being disturbed, Joe. Take your time." The voice was optimistic, back in control. It sounded so confident.

    I swallowed hard and laughed, a quick "heh" that made me feel better. "You mean 'we,' don't you?" My voice sounded dry and strained, my tongue still heavy from the night's slumber.

    He finally smiled. "Yes, we. I am you. And to answer your question, I'm 45, and yes, I'm from the future. But I can't tell you anything else."

    "Why not, Joe?" I smirked a little, watching him both like and dislike me calling him by our name. "Are you here to be my guardian angel? Quick, tell me what stocks to buy. And have the Browns won the Super Bowl yet? I suppose not, since the earth has yet to be destroyed by apocalypse in 2031. I'll have the pastors update their gloom-and-doom sermons accordingly!"

    Joe took a step forward, and I again noticed how big his arms were. The man looked incredibly strong. "I don't know why I'm here, really. Here, I'll prove it's me. Remember the Jordan Rules, from 2007?"

    I laughed, more fluidly this time as my dry mouth began to relax. "Yes! My top-secret plan to date Jordan Shelton my junior year of college! I never told anyone that! Ok, I'll believe you. By the way, do you know if I ever get to date that pretty accountant two doors over?"

    He shook his head. "My memory was erased as they sent me back in time; it's why I can come back here without being able to cause large-scale chaos. I still have my improved judgment skills of course." The way he said that, so casually and confidently, made me sense a challenge. I wasn't sure if he meant one, but I felt it nonetheless.

    "So no invisibility cloak or batwings, eh?" I said in a joking voice, trying to conceal my true feelings.

    "No, haha, nothing like that, Joe. I've just come to help you through an important moment. I don't know what it is, but I believe that is why I was sent back in time."

    "What you mean is that you're bigger and smarter, and you're here to stop your old self from doing something dumb. Old Joe is going to help mentor young Joey so he won't mess up his life, is that it?" I deliberately put as much snark into my voice as possible.

    He looked tired. "Now, Joey, you know it's not like that." He would have said more, but I cut him off.

    "Look, Joseph, all I see is that 'young Joey', and it's Joe to you, made decisions that look pretty good about right now. I know I couldn't afford that ring on my salary now. So you're just here because you think you lost something along the way, didn't you? Something that can't be measured?"

    His eyes narrowed, and he stared at me as I kept talking. "Traveler Joe, I'm going to do for you what you don't deserve. I'm not going to let you help your younger self." While I was talking, my fingers quietly fumbled along the bed, where my hand was hidden by the nightstand..."Because who you are now is who I want to be, and I won't let you stop me due to some random guilt or yearning for a do-over. I see that I have not become any less analytical in my old age...but maybe I have become slower?" And with that, my fingers finally closed over the baseball bat handle, and I rapidly drew it out and swung as quickly as I could for his head...!

    ...I woke up with a start. The alarm clock was ringing noisily, and the room was half-lit already with the morning sun. I was standing up, and my head hurt. There was a sleeping figure on the bed...

    Dedicated to Finity with best wishes for a complete recovery from her hospital stay. Thanks for the conceptual inspiration of a wise but flawed traveler, and of course the nesting doll concept, my Russian friend.

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