expired

Chapter 3, Part 2

    "Diagnosis, doctor?" I laughed.

    "Based on the symptoms, I'd say he's lovesick!" Tia squealed, pushing my shoulder. "I call being a bridesmaid. No, who am I kidding, I get maid of honor! And the colors will be gold and rose and white, and oh! it can be at the Tree if you want! And we'll have a string quartet during the ceremony, and a kickass DJ for the reception..."

    I let Tia continue on her spiel before she wound herself down. "You done?"

    "Oh and my kids can be the ring bearer and flower girl!" I raised an eyebrow. "Okay, now I'm done."

    "I was hoping so," I said.

    Tia and I continued talking on and on, much of which was spent reviewing her vacation and some guy named Brock, whose name simply made me roll my eyes and throw up in my mouth a bit. She mentioned something about her getting tipsy on less than half of her dad's beer she took before he could see, which I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was probably (read: totally) placebo, and didn't want to after I heard about her dancing on a chair and was about to move to the table before her mom pulled her down and scolded her in front of James, another guy that she apparently met. Though I loved Tia dearly, I worried about her on the college scene, and I hoped she didn't follow suit with Matt.

    Conversation kept up in a solid flow for the rest of the night, as it always did when I was with Tia, but the difference was that I was scared for it to stop, for what thoughts might creep in when it did.

    And sure enough, when we went finally had laughed ourselves to sore stomachs and exhaustion and turned out the lights, those creeping thoughts of doubt crawled out of the corners of my mind where I had told myself I would shove them until I learned different.

    It wasn't abnormal for me to almost constantly doubt myself in the decisions I was making about the clocks, which sounded melodramatic, but it was true. It was like I was "gifted" (read: cursed) with the power to watch over everyone's lives, something I'd never asked for, and I felt like it was my responsibility to keep everything straight. To make sure that I said hi to Mr. Mansey every time I passed his corner flower shop on Saturday afternoons because it added a minute to his clock ritually, and to wave and blow a kiss to little Maudie that lived down the street from us every day after school because it added three minutes to her clock. And I couldn't possibly forget about Mr. and Mrs. Ransfield whose house was adjacent ours, for when I waved to them through the kitchen window both their clocks would gain five minutes each.

    My spinning head drew back to reality when I heard Tia snoring softly next to me, pulling all the covers to herself. I let her, rolling over to my back and staring at the ceiling, still swimming in my own thoughts. But what about last Sunday when you forgot to ask that lady how her thirteen year old cat was doing? And what about last Thursday when you didn't smile at Maudie because you were too busy scrolling through your feed? And two weeks ago, you didn't even bother to look at Ms. Burns, who you always dance with on the porch on Tuesdays at 6:30 when you're on the way home from the grocery store picking up everything Matt forgot on Sunday and you realized on Monday night?

    Heat continued to rise in my face and beads of sweat started forming on my hairline as I continued through the possibilities. And Joseph from the EMT squad, you forgot to hand him his daily coffee from when you make your run in the morning today because you were too distracted with Clay, and maybe if he'd gotten it he could've gotten to that boy quicker and--

My thoughts were interrupted by my phone buzzing. I looked at Tia's alarm clock, which read 2:18 A.M. My roaring popularity has attracted many guests at this hour, I thought to myself as I picked up my phone, quoting Clay from the night before. It was a text from an unknown number which read:

From 555-2877-3242

Hi Eva, this is Shannon Freeman, Jacob's mom. That probably doesn't even ring a bell for you, but Jacob is the boy that you save...

    My home screen wasn't big enough to accommodate the entire text, so after trying and failing with my thumbprint I hurriedly typed in my password, failing twice more before finally accessing the rest of the text, the rest of which said:

...saved at the pool earlier. I know you might not want to take credit, but I saw you go after him practically even before he dove in, and I just had to thank you. I don't know how you did it, but thank you. Jacob's still having some tests done, but they determined he experienced a seizure that was followed by cardiac arrest, which is scary for us, but I'm so thankful someone was there to get to him quickly. And I know this is odd because you only got him to the edge of the pool a few seconds quicker than the rest of the guards would've, but for some reason I feel like those few seconds mattered to Jacob, so thank you.

    My heart fluttered. After 17 years, someone had finally recognized the few seconds I had saved them. After 17 years, I wasn't alone in thinking that those few seconds even mattered. After 17 years, I finally had some affirmation in what was basically the entire purpose of my life. I sat with my phone on my chest, my heart beating slowly and calmly, a new sense of peace found within me. It was as if all the questions that had filled me moments later melted away in that one text message. Another one came through, stranger than the first:

From 555-2877-3242

Also, I'm not a stalker... Got your number from that new boy Clay Walker :-) Hope I didn't wake you, by the way. Thank you again, Eva.

    I considered texting back, but not wanting her to think I was some psycho that was up at this hour, I figured it could wait until morning. My mind, now a peaceful pond after hours of a hurricane, was ready for a rest, and before I could even think about it, I drifted off to sleep, for once without a thought in my mind about Mr. Mansey or Maudie or Mr. and Mrs. Ransfield or the thirteen-year-old-cat lady or Ms. Burns or Joseph. The only words that rang in the back of my mind as I slipped off into dreamland were Edith's. You don't have to be looking for anything.