Time Lifts the Light

"You pressed her."
"I did not!"
"If D.B. wanted you to know those things he'd have told you himself!"

I knew she was right. I knew it, and yet I was still stubbornly denying it. I had folded my arms across my chest, digging the nails of my left hand into my right forearm. We were standing opposite each other in the middle of a long, narrow hallway that was lined with doors. I couldn't help but think that Kim was going to charge at any moment. I met her heated glare cooly, still pretending as if I had not pried into my friend's life.

The beige carpeting was old and worn and the walls were covered in family photos. I casually looked around; much to Kim's annoyance. I saw D.B. as a child, giving an open-mouthed smile as he held up a wriggling worm to the camera. An entire section was devoted to birthday photos. My eyes flicked over Mrs. Hawkins turning something (she had covered up the numbers on the candles, looking slightly embarrassed), D.B. turning ten - his thin arms draped around Mikey and Kim's shoulders, and Julia's second birthday party, a fifteen-year-old D.B. (who was a bit more angular and skinny than D.B. in present day) with a purple party hat on, helping his messy-faced sister blow out the candles.

They seemed to be quite a happy family. They were always smiling, arms around each other. I quickly surveyed the photos of more exotic locations - Rome, Egypt, India - and had a sneaking suspicion that they had not paid for air-fare. D.B. could travel through time, but not through space. His father, a more experienced traveler, could probably travel anywhere, any time. In the blink of an eye.

"You're still prying."
My head shot up. Kim was looking at me strangely.
"I was just... looking at pictures. There's nothing wrong - "
"Why are you so curious about him?"
"I'm not." I swallowed thickly.
"D.B. is a private person, Indy."
"I know."
"He wouldn't like it that you - "

She stopped talking and immediately smiled at something over my shoulder. I turned to find D.B. standing at the end of the hallway, looking as if he was about to throw up.

"Did you guys go in my room?" he asked weakly.
"No," Kim answered, honesty ringing fiercely in her voice.
D.B. looked quite relieved. "Good. I mean - Sorry. But... Good."
"We understand," I said, my face burning guiltily.
"What's wrong, D.B.?" Kim asked, brushing past me. "You look sick."
"My dad's just told Mikey about Portugal."

Kim winced.

Apparently something bad had happened in Portugal.

"Come here," she said, sighing. D.B. stepped forward and allowed Kim to hug him. He let out a shaky breath onto her shoulder. "You know you're being stupid, right?"
"Yeah, I know."

Kim took him by the shoulders and pulled him back. She ducked her head down and whispered something to him that I couldn't quite make out. D.B.'s eyes closed. He looked upset.

"I know," I could hear him hiss. "I don't want to. Not now."
"She's going to find out anyway! Isn't it better like this? All at once, just like a Band-Aid."

Something bold and decisive stirred in me. It came from the center of my chest and it felt like fear mixed with anger. I could feel my face get hot with annoyance. I strode quickly past Kim and D.B., bumping into one of them none too gently. I walked out into the living room, past a dazed-looking Mikey being poked and prodded by Julia on the couch, and disappeared into the dining room. Places were already set. I sat down on the plush black chair at the head of the table.

I wasn't sure if how I felt was justified. I was angry. Very, very angry. But at who? Myself? Kim? D.B.? I couldn't figure out what I wanted. Maybe I was furious that D.B. was having such a hard time letting me into his life? Maybe I was upset with myself for being so curious. I decided on a combination of the two - probably mixed in with a little jealousy pointed in Kim and Mikey's directions. They were so close to him already.

I sighed and rested my head in my arms. I wanted to be close to D.B., and badly. I tried to rationalize my feelings but there was nothing to them. The way that my heart beat settled into my stomach when I saw him, how my mind whirred with strategies to sit next to him, with plans to talk to him. Those were all very simple. I was heavily denying the obvious fact that -

"Dinner's ready!"

Mrs. Hawkins kicked open the dining room door and placed a ceramic bowl filled with spaghetti on the table. She looked surprised to see me.

"Come help me get the rest of the things, Indigo. And that's Jim's seat, dear."

I numbly got up from the table and followed her into the kitchen. We brought out the rolls - fresh from the oven, the meat sauce that I had stirred, and a copious amount of paper napkins. By the time I was able to sit down again, everyone was already seated and ready to eat.

Mr. Hawkins was, in fact, sitting at the head of the table. His wife took the seat next to him. Mikey was staring at D.B. from across the table, eyes wide and blank. D.B. was red-faced, pretending not to notice. Kim kept shooting me icy looks as I found the last empty seat - between D.B. and Julia, who kept throwing things at Mikey.

The tense silence went ignored by D.B.'s family. They chattered, asking me a lot of questions (Do you like Colorado? How are you doing in school?) and gradually revealing information about their lives.

"Jim, tell Indigo about the time you broke your big toe," Mrs. Hawkins suggested, smiling at her husband.
Mr. Hawkins tried not to look excited. Clearly this was one of his favorite stories. "Well, I was about twenty-seven. And I was a very careful time traveler - "
"Dad," D.B. said hotly. "She doesn't care about this story."
D.B.'s father ignored the remark. "I was just learning to travel through space, and I couldn't have been more frightened. On this particular occasion - "
"Dad."

D.B.'s fist clanged on the table. Glasses clinked against plates and silverware bounced. He was bright red, his jaw clenched tightly.

"Don't work yourself up, Danny," Mr. Hawkins scolded. "It's not healthy."
"You look like a tomato," Julia added, tickling her brother's chin.

D.B. fumed.

"Besides, Dan," Mrs. Hawkins noted absentmindedly. "You could learn something from your father's stories. You'll be learning to travel through space soon - "
"Mom."
"Well, you will! And you've already gotten hurt more times than - "
"Mom, stop."
"You're going to have those scars forever, Danny. It's not something - Oh, don't pout! Your friends already know about your ability."
"I didn't want them to know this much!"
"They would have found - "
"No, they wouldn't!"

D.B. stood up, knocking his chair over.

"Daniel!"
"It's my ability. Mine. I choose who knows about it and how much they know. I choose."
"D.B.," Mr. Hawkins interjected sternly. "Sit down."
"Tell them about everything," D.B. challenged, his throat tightening. "Tell them about my shoulder and my back. Tell them about 1695. Tell them about Dad's toe, tell them about goddamn Portugal. Tell them how Grandad died!"

He gave his mother and father each an acid glare before turning and walking calmly out of the dining room, leaving his plate untouched.

There was a heavy silence that descended over the room. Mikey cleared his throat.

"We should go."

Mrs. Hawkins stood to show us to the door.

"I'm sorry," she said as we stood on the front porch. "He hasn't traveled in over a week. You know how he gets."

Mikey and Kim nodded.

I swallowed thickly.

We left.

-_-_-_-

"Is D.B. going to be okay?"

My voice sounded unbearably loud against the tense silence that had filled the car. I felt isolated in the back seat, my heart was beating abnormally fast with anxiety and regret.

Kim was resting her head against the window, slowly rolling her forehead against the cool glass.

Mikey sighed heavily.

"He'll be fine," he said after a while. "He gets really keyed up and angst-y when he doesn't time travel for a while."
"Oh."
"Sometimes he just - I don't know - forgets himself." Mikey seemed to be searching for the right words. "Time traveling is... Daniel is... He'll be fine," he repeated.
"I hate it when he's like this," Kim said to nobody in particular. "He's scary."

"Powerful," Mikey added.
"Dangerous, almost."

A sterile silence descended - once again - on the interior of Mikey's car.

Meanwhile, Daniel Booker Hawkins was sitting under a large tree, somewhere in Colorado in 1912. He had his head in his hands.