Have you ever felt that you weren't living the life you were supposed to live? That somehow you got sidetracked from your destiny and now you can't get back on track? Sometimes at night I would stare at the stars and wonder if I was meant to do something more than give comfort to old people while they slowly journey into the sunset of their lives. Then the next morning I'd get an e-mail from Joey, asking me why I haven't sent money for his tuition yet. Or maybe a call from mom about some unpaid water or electric bill. I'd forget all about my existential musings and focus on reality. You see, my dad died young so my mother had to raise us on her own. Now that I'm older, it's my turn to support the family.
My name is Stephanie Reyes and I work as a caregiver. I've been at St. Matthew's Home for about a year now, and it isn't too bad. It's this first class facility Right in the Middle of Nowhere, Nevada, U.S.A. where rich families send their old and crippled grandparents to wither and die with a modicum of dignity and more importantly, out of their sight. I know it's a cynical way of looking at things but that's my opinion. This kind of thing just isn't right. It should be the children's duty to take care of their parents in their old age, not farm out the work to other people. I guess I shouldn't be complaining though. Without that kind of attitude I wouldn't have this job.
I guess my life isn't really any different from other Filipinos I know here. We all have identical stories, the same reasons for working here. Probably the only thing mildly interesting about me is that I can speak four other languages other than Filipino. There's English of course, some Spanish and Japanese, and a little bit of French. And my family is, at least according to my mom, supposed to be distantly related to the Alcantaras. They're this fabulously old super-rich clan of Spanish descent in the Philippines. They own the biggest companies with interests ranging from telecommunications, mining, shipping, land development, retail trade, and just about any business you can think of. I did a paper on them and learned a lot about their history, starting with their great matriarch and visionary Doña Annabella. Couldn't confirm or deny my mom's claim though.
“So have you guys finished packing yet?” I asked my brother. It was my day-off. I was at a local internet shop chatting with my brother on-line. He and mom were going on a trip to attend the wedding of some distant cousin.
“I have, but mom hasn't. You know how she is. But I guess it's alright. The pier isn't that far anyway.”
“I don't see why you just don't go by plane. It's much faster.”
“No way! A plane's much faster than a boat? You've got anything to back up that claim?"
“Oh I'm sorry. I thought I was talking to a med student, not a lawyer,” I countered.
“Yeah, whatever,” he answered back, laughing. “I think it's pretty cool. I've never traveled by boat before. I think mom's finally finished packing.”
My cellphone began to ring. “Okay, no problem. Listen, my phone's buzzing. Just tell mom I said hi. Have a safe trip, okay? Have fun at the wedding.”
“Okay. Love you, sis. Over and out.” The webcam went blank. I looked at my phone to see who was calling. It was Mr. Brown.
---
Allan Brown was an old resident of St. Matthew's. No one knows much about him or his past, and he never got any visitors. Sometimes I would imagine that he used to be a secret agent, maybe during World War II. Someone like the character Sean Connery played in The Rock. He even has this small “S” tattoo near his left ear which I think stands for “SPY.” I have a fanciful mind, so sue me. Anyway, he's polite and friendly, and over the years, the we've developed a special friendship.
I answered, “Hello, Al. What's up?”
Al's voice was hesitant and apologetic. “Stef, I'm sorry to be calling you on your day off,” he said, then blurted, “But she's here!”
“Who?” I asked.
“Alice!” he shouted.
“Who's Alice?”
“My fiance!”
Before I could think of an appropriate reply, Al said, “Please come, Stef. Please.”
“Where's she now?” I asked.
“She's with Mrs. Wang. Hurry up, please!"
Mrs. Wang was the head administrator of St. Matthew's. She's nice, but very strict.
Resigning to the idea that I was probably not going to get to read that new Kinsella book I just borrowed, I said, “Okay, I'll be right there.”
---
Her name really was Alice. Alice Reynolds. She wasn't Al's fiance though.
She was his granddaughter.
Alice was in her mid-twenties. She was accompanied by a Mr. David Finch, an attorney. He looked in his mid-thirties and did most of the talking.
“Sir, your real name,” the lawyer began, “Is Alistair Reynolds. Your wife was Alice Reynolds. This is your granddaughter,” he said, presenting Alice to him.
“Hi, grandpa,” Alice said. It was all very awkward, but I felt happy for Al. I was glad that someone finally came for him. At the same time I felt a little jealous of Alice, and my heart ached for the company of mom and Joey.
“Alice?” he whispered.
“Everyone tells me I look exactly like grandma when she was young,” she said, handing out an old photograph of a beautiful dignified-looking woman. The resemblance was uncanny.
“I work for the law firm Crenshaw Brady & Locke,” David began. “We handle the estate of Mrs. Reynolds, who died about two years ago. Before her death, Mrs. Reynolds gave our firm some letters to give to Ms. Alice on specific future dates.
“Yesterday, I sought out Ms. Alice to give her the first letter. She opened it and was informed of the present whereabouts of her grandfather. In the letter, Ms. Reynolds also asked that our firm to send a lawyer to accompany her here today to have her meet her grandfather,” explained David.
Alistair was dumbfounded. He was still holding the picture of his late wife in his hand. It was probably a little too overwhelming to absorb at once. “Alistair?” he muttered.
“What else did the letter say?” I asked David. He didn't seem bothered that I was butting into this business, not being family. For an attorney, he didn't seem all that bad.
“Well, other than the instructions to come here, I'm supposed to take all of you out to dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town.”
Al looked at me, waiting for an answer. Can you say fillet-mignon?
---
We were sitting at the Cafe Rafael of the Midtown Mansions, one of the fanciest restaurants this side of town. Only the rich come here, and apparently, the Reynolds family owns a good chunk of it. We'd already eaten dinner and was listening intently to David. He's been talking most of the evening about Mrs. Reynolds' trust while we peppered him with questions.
“Do you remember anything about your past?” David asked Al.
“Every now and then I seem to recall something,” Al struggled to explain, “My mind gets these glimpses, but when I concentrate, they slip away,” he said.
“Well, you were married to Alice Sinclair in the year 1930. Shortly thereafter you and your wife began a small business selling automobile parts and accessories. Not long after that you began building your own, forming Dirk Industries. You had two sons, Jim and Alice's father, Peter. He died of cancer about five years ago,” David said. Alice nodded.
“I'm sorry. I don't remember Jim or Peter or Dirk Industries. I think I remember Alice, but I'm not even sure of that. It's all so fuzzy. When I try harder, I feel a pounding in my head. God, it's so hard,” he sighed.
“Maybe you should get some rest,” I told Al. “Where are you guys staying? What happens tomorrow?”
“Well,” David said, smiling, “Tomorrow I give Ms. Alice here another letter."
---
We met for breakfast at the cafeteria. Alice had already read the second letter. She gave it to Al. Having poor eyesight, Al asked me to read it to him. It began:
My dearest Alice,
How is the lawyer from Crenshaw doing? Is he helping you out? I told Mr. Crenshaw that I wanted him to personally handle this for me, but I'm pretty sure he's going to hand this down to a junior associate or some new kid, my being dead and all. He's a pompous ass, but he knows his job. Anyway, by now you've probably met your grandfather. How is he? Does he remember you? Probably not. His memory was failing when he left. You were just a little girl then. I'm sure he has a lot of questions, as do you, but I assure you that everything will be explained in due time. At this point, I just want you to get reacquainted.
I've outlined an itinerary for you for the day, which I'll attach to this letter soon as I finish it. I hope you'll follow it to the letter (yes, the pun was intended). I want you to visit certain places there. Maybe a little trip down memory lane is just the right thing for everyone.
Please tell your grandfather I love him and miss him, and all will be clear soon. I love you as well, my dear sweet Alice.
Your grandmother,
Alice
We spent the day revisiting parts of the town where much of their love story unfolded. They're really a pretty sight. I wonder why I haven't noticed them before. We went to the town museum where Alice and Al spent many of their weekends together. We visited the local university where they both studied. Finally, we went the old town library. Through her letter, Alice's grandmother actually guided us to an old book with a hand-drawing of a heart and arrow. Right beside it was a note which said "Alistair love Alice". It was so sweet. Seeing the note, Al looked at me. I searched his eyes. Was he starting to remember?
Alice and I put him to bed. It was still early and the three of us weren't tired or sleepy yet. Besides, David told Mrs. Wang that they still needed to consult me on Mr. Reynold's condition and Mrs. Wang was only too happy to bill his law firm for the overtime. We went to a bar and ordered some martinis.
“So, how long have you been living here in the States?” asked Alice.
“A little over three years,” I replied.
“Must be hard, being alone and all. You have family back in the Philippines?”
“Just my mom and a little brother. You? Any family besides your grandfather?”
“Oh yeah. My mom, two brothers and three sisters. Uncle Jim and three cousins.”
"So why'd your grandmother pick you to come here?"
“I don't really know. I've always been her favorite, I guess. When she was dying, she wanted me to be at her side. I was in New York at the time. They told me that she held on until I finally saw her. She whispered something to me before she died.”
“Oh? What?”
“She said she was sorry. I think she was apologizing because I had to go all the way from New York just to see her. That was how it was with grandma. She was always so kind to me. When other people talk about her, they always say she was shrewd and even cunning, but I never saw that side of her. She was always a dear to me, always so sweet and caring.”
“Must be nice to have so much family. And now you got your grandfather back.”
“It is incredible, isn't it? Family is the most important thing,” Alice said, then looked at David. “I thought my grandfather died in a car accident.”
“Hey don't look at me, Alice. I wasn't even working at Crenshaw when your grandmother died. I think she and Mr. Crenshaw planned the whole accident bit, but I don't know. The police report said his car fell on a cliff. There was an explosion and so no body was recovered. Hey, this was about twenty years ago.”
“But why?” I asked. It made no sense.
“I think at that time he was beginning to develop memory loss. He was around sixty then, right?”
“So when Al started to lose his memory his wife decides to fake his death?" I asked. "I thought they were a perfectly happy couple.”
“They were," Alice said. "They were always in each other's arms, smiling and laughing. I know they were smart in business, but I think they were also devoted to each other.”
“So, why?” I pestered. Alice's cellphone began to ring. She answered, saying “Honey, how did it go?” She stood up and excused herself.
“I don't know,” David replied. “Maybe tomorrow's letter will give us the answers?” He said, pointing at his bag.
“Yeah, maybe,” I said. He was somewhat attractive, in a boy-next-door kind of way.
“Tomorrow then?” he asked.
“It's a date,” I said, winking.
---
David was driving, with me at the passenger seat. Al and Alice were at the back. Mrs. Reynolds' third letter told us to go to this one particular place in the woods at the outskirts of town. She was very specific about it. There was even a map attached to her letter. We were told how many steps to take and in what direction. There was even an “X” marking the exact spot.
“I think this is it. Did you bring the shovel, David?” I joked.
“Sorry, I think I left it at home, along with my light-saber and bazooka,” he quipped. I thought it was pretty funny. I looked at Alice to see if she also found it amusing. She was looking at her grandfather.
“What's wrong, grandpa?” she asked, concerned.
“I don't know...” Al answered, his voice trailing off. “Something familiar about this place..." He shook his head. “It's all so confusing. Damn it!” he shouted. “This place. You. The picture. Everything. My head hurts. The pain is unbearable.”
David went to Al's side. He said something to him in a low voice. Obviously, he didn't want anyone else to hear, including me and Alice. He then handed a letter to Al, and gave him reading glasses. Apparently, I wasn't going to know what was written in that letter. Al sat down near a small boulder and put the glasses on. He tore the letter open.
David came up to me and Alice.
“It's part of the instructions Mrs. Reynolds gave us,” he explained. “I don't know what the letter contains. Swear to God.”
Alice and I looked at David, unsure of how to react. What was in the letter? Al seemed to be reading it over and over, as if trying to absorb every word. His eyes squinted; his brows furrowed. His face went through an array of emotions. Sadness, bewilderment, anger, sorrow, defiance, and finally, a sort of resignation. He stood up.
“David,” he called out.
The three of us went near him, but he held up his hand and stopped us. “Just David,” he pleaded. He looked broken and defeated.
“Yes, sir,” David said.
“Do you have a lighter?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” David replied and offered it to him.
Al took the lighter, and began burning the letter.
---
“I guess it was a little dramatic, but she told me to burn it,” Al said. “I'm sure she even arranged for David here to bring a lighter. Am I right?” We were going back to St. Matthew's.
“Well, there was an instruction to have a lighter handy at all times during this entire trip,” David admitted.
“But why? What was in the letter?” I asked.
“It was very personal and kind of embarrassing to tell. You see, this spot is very special to us as a couple, if you know what I mean,” Al said with a smile. I didn't buy it. Alice on the other hand, seemed overjoyed.
“Grandpa!” Alice laughed.
“It's true. Speaking of which, when do I get to meet your boyfriend? David tells me he's coming here soon?”
“Fiancé, grandpa. Alex. He's going to head out here later tonight and will probably arrive early morning.”
“Are you sure? He has to leave by eight. Call him to make sure, okay? I want him to be here in time for breakfast.”
“Okay. I'm calling him now,” she said, paused, the continued, “Alex, grandpa says I should remind you that you have to leave by eight, okay? I'm not kidding. He really did say that. Okay. I love you too. Drive carefully, okay?”
I went besides Al and asked, “Al, what was really in that letter?”
“It was about our first time,” he said, smiling. I could tell it was a fake smile because I've seen it on so many of the other patients at St. Matthew's. Never on Al until now. I was pissed.
“Cut the crap, Al. Why are you lying to me? What could the letter have said to make you do this? You don't even really remember anything, do you?”
“I don't have to remember to do the right thing for my family," he answered. Then his anger wavered and he said, “I'm sorry, Stef. I truly am. But please stay out of this. It's a family thing, and it's really none of your business.”
---
I arrived at my apartment a little over nine. I felt angry and confused. I thought I knew Al. I consider him as my closest friend here, maybe the only real one. Now it's as if I hardly know him at all. I knew he was hiding something, What I may never find out. What the hell did the letter really say?
I checked my answering machine and found five messages. I hardly get any messages. I pressed the PLAY button.
“Stef, this is your cousin Sally. Sally Pozon. I'm not sure if you'd remember me. Your mother and brother was supposed to attend the wedding of my sister and, oh I don't know how to tell you this. You see, there was this accident...”
I froze.
“Your mother and brother died, Stef. I'm so sorry. They just recovered the bodies and it's been confirmed. This typhoon came out from nowhere and the entire ship flipped. They say there are bodies everywhere. More than a hundred bodies have been recovered, around fifty are still missing and presumed dead. It's a mess here. They've been searching non-stop, but the -
I left. I didn't want to hear anymore.
---
I was back at the bar where just yesterday, Alice, David and I had a good time drinking. Yesterday, I also had a mother and brother.
Oh God, was it really true? I wanted to deny it. I don't even remember a cousin named Sally. She could be lying. Maybe when I go back to my apartment I'll hear mom leaving me a message saying that they've arrived safely and that the wedding was fabulous. Then she'd start pestering me about when I'm going to find a boyfriend and maybe a husband so she can have that grandchild she's always wanted. Then Joey will tell me about a girl she met at the party who asked for his phone number. Then I'd laugh and say, “In your dreams, pal.”
But that wasn't going to happen. Deep inside, I knew they were both gone. I was all alone. I didn't even have enough money to go back home. I sent all my hard earned money to my mom and she didn't even have the decency to stay alive and spend it. Oh God, why am I here? I miss my mom and my Joey and I'm all alone in this godforsaken bar drinking beer which I don't even really like.
Tears began to flow again and I wiped them with my sleeve. I took another sip of beer. I was on my sixth one. I wasn't having too much success drowning my sorrow, despite the liquor. Then someone tapped my shoulder.
“Stef?” David asked.
“David!” I cried. I wrapped my arms around him and sobbed.
“What' wrong?” he asked. “Does this have anything to do with Mr. Reynolds?”
“No, no. It's nothing,” I said. I didn't want to share my pain. I didn't even really know much about David.
“Are you sure? If not, what is it then? Come on, you can tell me,” he said, his voice warm and soothing.
“It's nothing really. I'm just drunk.”
“Well, that's true enough,” he said. He paused a while and then decided, “Let's go to my room, okay? I'll sleep on the coach. You're in no condition to travel tonight.”
He carried me to the elevator and took me upstairs to his room. Some other guy might have taken advantage of my condition, but David was quite the gentleman. I think my mom would've liked him. Joey wouldn't though. He's protective that way, even though I'm her big sister.
He laid me down on the king-sized bed. My head was swirling, my eyes out of focus. He was saying something, but I was having a hard time understanding him.
“Stef, I'm gonna go down and withdraw some cash, okay? It's just around the corner so it won't take long. Just lie down and rest, okay?”
Then he left, leaving me drunk and alone. Just like my dad. Just like my mother and brother. Just like Mr. Brown a.k.a. Mr. Reynolds. They all leave.Why couldn't they just ride a plane like ordinary people do? They had the money for the fucking plane ride, for God's sake. I send them everything I earn here. Now they're dead and for what, to save a few bucks? Oh God, I want to go home. Oh God...
I stood up and stumbled, falling to the ground, face down. I tried to get up. I raised my head and saw black leather.
It was David's bag. The one that he said contained Mrs. Reynolds' letters. Those goddamn letters.
I got up and grabbed the bag. I opened its flap and turned it upside down. Folders and manila envelops came tumbling down. I began searching through the pile. Most of it were about other cases. Then I found one envelop addressed to Ms. Alice Reynolds. The feminine writing on its surface confirmed my suspicion. This was Mrs. Reynolds letter. I looked at the date written on it. Tomorrow morning. I ripped it open and began reading. It began:
My dearest Alice,
By the time you read this, it would all be over and done with. Everything would be the way it should be, the way it's destined to be. I hope that in time you would be able to forgive us. I'm sure you won't look at your grandfather the same way after you finish with this letter. That's partly why I wanted you to spend time with him. I hope you'll remember his sweetness. His kindness and innocence. He really is a good soul.
I'll try to explain everything, my dear. It's a bit complicated and I'm not sure I fully understand it all myself. You see, I met your father for the first time at the spot you were at yesterday if Mr. Crenshaw did as he was told and brought you and your grandfather there. I still remember that faithful night.
I was walking alone that night. Usually my cousin Abner walks with me, but he was feeling ill then. There was really nothing to fear then. Life was peaceful and safe, not like now with all the random killings and robbery.
Anyway, I was looking up at the sky and stars then. The dark sky was filled with bright stars and I was enthralled.
The wind began to blow in every direction and a slow rumbling sound filled the air around me. I saw this immense disc hovering above the trees. I had blinking lights of different colors. I hid between the trees, scared. Then the sound stopped and the wind faded. I looked out again for the disc. It was gone.
Frightened but curious, I began looking for any sign of what just happened. I've already heard of some of these supposed alien encounters from science fiction magazines and newspapers but never believed them.
Looking around, I saw this patch of flattened grass, shaped like a circle. In the middle of it was a man. A naked man.
It was your grandfather.
He looked alert and his eyes brightened when he saw me. He didn't seem the least embarrassed that he was naked. I don't think he was even aware of it. He called out to me, asking me where he was. I shied away, but he came up to me.
“Please,” he said to me, “Help me. Where am I?”
I told him where he was. He shook his head, as if things didn't make sense. Then he began talking. He said his name was Alexander Rossdale. He was a student at New York University.
He said he just resumed driving his Toyota (at the time I had no idea what this was) on the Nevada highway after stopping at a diner for a late dinner. He was on his way to see her fiance when this flying disc came hovering on top of him. The next thing he remembered was lying on this patch of grass.
I was fascinated. This naked guy appears out of nowhere and begins rambling about the future. I began peppering him with questions. He seemed too confused not to answer. Maybe it was helping him get his bearings. I asked him the exact date and time of the alien encounter. I asked him the name of the diner (Catherine's Diner). I asked him if he remembered anything when he was inside the disc. He squinted his eyes and concentrated, but he did, he screamed in pain. Then I asked him to tell me everything that happened after the year 1928. He told me about the different wars. Who the different Presidents-to-be were. About telephones and computers. Germany and the Nazis. About the Kennedy assassination, communism and China, the different political scandals. About American and Japanese automobiles, electronics. Betamax, VCRs, CDs. The Soviets and Russians. There were other things he told me that I don't remember. It was all jumbled, and I tried to absorb as many bits and pieces as I could.
Then he placed his his palm on his forehead. He shrieked and fell to the ground. I ran home and told Abner about him. We took some of his clothes and dressed Alex up. Then Abner called some of his boys and they carried him to the hospital.
When Alex woke up, he was a blank. He didn't know his name, where he came from.
I wrote down as much of what he told me and memorized it all. When I was sure I committed everything to memory. I burned it all. No one should know what I know. It was my secret, and mine alone.
I eventually told Alex about it. By this time, he had accepted his memory loss and lived with us for a while. He was now known as Alistair Reynolds, a name I picked. It sounded so dignified but not pompous. We fell in love. He eventually proposed. Before I accepted, I told him about that night and all the things he said. I wanted no secrets between us.
We moved to the city shortly after we were married and started selling automobile parts. Cars were going to be big and we bet everything we had on them. Of course it paid of. Reynolds Enterprises became Dirk Industries when we bought a majority stake of an ailing car manufacturer and turned it around. Eventually it became Dirk International and now we have offices all over the world, and interests ranging from microchips to bio-engineered food. Guided by the information Alistair gave me, we succeeded in almost every undertaking we delved into. We had two fine strong sons.
Then you were born. My sweet Alice. I had nothing to do with naming you, by the way. Your mother insisted that you be named after me, and of course I agreed. You were such an angel. Your grandfather was so enthralled with you. We loved you from the moment we saw you, more than all our other grandchildren.
Then I began to notice something. Every time your grandfather saw you, he would have this blank confused stare. Then he'd shake it off and pretend everything was fine. The more you grew up, the more this occurred. Eventually, I talked him into seeing a doctor.
The doctor told us that Alistair was suffering some mild form of Alzheimer's. I'm not sure if its that's really the case, or maybe it's because of what was done to him during his abduction. I think it was both. But the problem wasn't his forgetting. It was his remembering.
He began to remember bits and pieces from his real past. His real childhood, living in 1970s. He had headaches, and every time he had them, his nose would bleed. It's as if his brain couldn't accept the reality of his two different timelines. The mark near his left ear would swell as well. His condition got worst every time he got near you. We knew it was only going to get worst the older you became.
So we concocted this crazy scheme of faking his own death. He had to separate himself from his family, from me. And from you.
Yesterday, if everything went according to plan, Alistair would have been given a letter by the lawyer accompanying you. The letter would be the one written by Alistair himself, explaining everything. About how we really met, our life together and why we both planned to make it appear he'd died and why he ended up in St. Matthew's. Alistair said that recognize his own handwriting, and would know that what was written was entirely true.
More importantly, it explained why he had to make sure Alexander Rossdale would be on his way to visit his fiance's grandfather at the correct time and place for the sake of our family legacy and fortune.
As I said at the beginning of this letter, by the time you read this it would have been all over. Your fiance would have already been taken by the flying disc. I can only say I'm sorry, my sweet child. I know it must be hard and I hope you understand. Please remember that this wasn't my decision alone but Alistair's as well. I know its very confusing and all, but there was really no choice. Alex had to be there to be abducted and the aliens or whatever they were or are had to send him to 1928 at that very spot where we first met.
I really don't know what else to say except that I'm truly sorry. Fate and Destiny are inexplicably entwined, and we have no control over them.
Your grandmother,
Alice
I sat there, trying to absorb everything I just read. This was all too much for one day. My mother and brother just died. And now this? I didn't even know what to make of it.
Then I felt this resolve in me. I looked at my watch. Catherine's Diner. I looked around the room. David hadn't come back yet. The car key had been left at the bed table. I grabbed it and ran to the elevator. I gave the key to the valet attendant. Hurry up, I said to myself. My adrenaline was pumping.
The driver brought the car up front and I got into the driver's seat. I looked at the rear view mirror and saw David coming around the corner. He began running towards me. I floored the accelerator and was gone.
I arrived at Catherine's Diner and looked around the parking lot. There was just one Toyota so I knew it had to be Alex's. I went inside the diner.
There was this young guy sitting at the bar, eating a burger. He looked shy but with a happy face. I went up to him.
“Hi,” I said.
“Uhhh, hello,” he answered, unsure.
“My name is Stephanie Reyes,” I told him.
“Ummm, pleased to meet you, Ms. Reyes,” he said, then added, “My name is Alexander. Rossdale. Alex for short.” He held out his hand.
I shook it, tears forming at the corner of my eye. “I'm pleased to meet you too,” I said, my voice cracking with emotion. Then I ran out of the diner.
I went back to David's car, started it, then as I was crying my eyes out, rammed the side of Alex's Toyota, displacing his front left tire wheel. I wasn't going to let him do any traveling tonight. People in the diner began looking, maybe even Alex himself. I didn't care anymore. I drove off.
About twenty-minutes after driving out of the diner, I was on the Nevada highway. The sky was bright and filled with stars. The air was hot and dusty. I looked up and saw a disc hovering above me. I stopped the car.
I shouted at it. “He isn't coming, you know. I made sure of it. He has a fiance. Her name's Alice and she's a nice girl. It just isn't right to take him away from her. They're going to get married. Have babies. Start a family. I don't care what her grandmother says or what her grandfather from the future who's actually the same guy says.”
I paused, my voice quivering.
“Take me instead,” I begged.
I didn't know I was going to say that until I did. It did make sense. I had nothing to lose anymore. I had no family. My life was meaningless without my mother and brother. My only real friend at St. Matthew's had abandoned me. I was living in a foreign country and couldn't even go back home if I wanted to. I had nothing to live for anymore.
As if considering what I said, the disc fell silent, hovering above me. Then the lights began blinking fast and the air swirled. I think it just decided to take me up on my bet.
“Can I make a request before you experiment on me or whatever it is you plan on doing ?” I asked. What's the harm, right? “When you put me back on earth, if you do, I was hoping you'd put me in the Philippines instead of here? It's this archipelago near the Southeast, you see. I grew up there and it's really the only place I feel at home. I know you don't have to do this, being a technologically advanced race and all but I think -”
A white light flashed all around me. Everything went blank.
---
I heard noises. Someone was approaching me. I was lying naked in a ditch somewhere, covered in dirt and mud.
A voice called out. “Is someone there?”
It was a male voice, and he was speaking in Spanish.
I yelled back, “Help me,” I said. Then there was a rope. “Grab onto it. I'll pull you out,” he said.
When I got out I laid on my back, breathing and panting. The air was humid and dry. What a rotten climate. I started to wipe the mud away from my body. I looked at the man who pulled me out and saw him staring at me. Then he looked away.
“I'm sorry, señorita. You're naked. I, ummm, I'm sorry,” he stuttered. He removed his coat, then offered it to me without glancing back. “Here, señorita. Please take it.”
I took his coat and wrapped it around me. “Thank you,” I said. Then asked, “Do you have a pen and paper?”
“Si, señorita. I do,” he replied, perplexed at my request. Then he went to his carriage to get them. If I'm right and things were going to happen like the way it did with Alex, I was only going to be able to hold on to my memories for a few minutes. I had to write as much of it down on paper.
He hurried back and gave me the pen and paper. "I always carry pen and paper, señorita. I'm a writer, you see. Well, I'm planning to be," he said. I scribbled, oblivious to his words. Then I noticed he was looking at me, trying to decipher what I was writing. I smiled at him and said, “Thank you again for everything. This must seem very perplexing, señor...?”
“Alcantara. Miguel Alcantara,” he said. Alcantara, I thought. Then he added, “And your name, señorita?”
“Annabella,” I answered without hesitation. I continued scribbling again, more frantic. I needed to write down everything I knew.
Family's the most important thing after all.
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