Beginning of Something

Blythe unlocked the front door quietly, peering into the house. It seemed like her parents had gone out for dinner; the coat rack was void of their outerwear. She heaved a sigh of relief. Chiding herself for not thinking twice when she asked Alec to meet at night, she flicked on the light switch and dropped her keys on the shelf beside the door.

“Minty!” she called out for her Pomeranian as she slid her shoes off and removed her socks. “I’m home!”

She heard the high-pitched bark of her puppy before he came into view and bounced down the stairs. He was very small, about the size of her palm to her elbow, and had snow-white fur. She could not imagine the tiny thing breaking a vase that was so much larger without getting hurt himself. The lie she had told her mother may have been a little too far-fetched, she thought.

The part-time housekeeper, Deborah, emerged from the kitchen hastily and beamed at her. She was a strong woman in her late fifties who joined the household five months back. If Blythe’s memory did not fail her, she was a friend of her aunt’s. The family did not really need a housekeeper since they were barely at home, but they had to find someone who could take care of Minty while everyone was away. She only came to the house from early afternoon to late evening on weekdays, and Blythe’s parents trusted her enough to leave her alone in it.

“I shall get going now that you’re back,” she said, gathering her frizzy black hair into a low ponytail. Blythe could spot a few strands of white as she did. “Tell your mother I will be late tomorrow, dear. I need to see the doctor.”

Blythe picked up her puppy and gently patted his soft fur. He made a squeaking sound. “Are you okay?”

“Old ailments,” she smiled widely, deepening the wrinkles on her forehead and her laugh lines, and stepped past her to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, dear.”

Blythe retreated to her room as soon as the front door closed. Minty had fallen asleep in her arms; poor creature must have waited too long for her return. She put her beloved puppy down into a basket under a small blanket. He looked so small and vulnerable. Blythe let out an involuntary sigh. Feeling lethargic, she took a long cold shower, leaving her old outfit thrown on her bed.

The cool water slid down her body. She shivered, not just from the chill, but also from the thought of her sudden courage to confront Alec at Rosie’s Diner earlier. As she ran her fingers through her soaked hair, she tried to summon into her mind all the things he had said when she had first met him in her bedroom. Those details could be useful to her later when he came. If he came.

Up until now, she still was not sure if Alec would show up. He did not seem like the kind of person who liked being told what to do, but if the matter at hand really was important, he would try to reach her no matter what, would he not?

The faint sound of something came from downstairs. If Blythe had not been expecting a guest, she would have missed it. She turned the faucet and pressed her ear to the bathroom door. Ding dong! The sound of the doorbell was unmistakable. Anxiously, she put on only her undergarments; she did not have the habit of bringing proper clothing into the bathroom with her. She stepped out into her room hastily and threw on her lavender bathrobe which was hanging on a hook on the wall. Her mind only flooded itself with Alec’s face and the strong desire to get to the door. Nothing else she was doing seemed to catch her attention.

She hustled down the stairs, skipping steps, almost tripping over her own feet several times. Making it to the door unscathed seemed like a miraculous feat to her. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she opened the door slowly.

Alec stood beyond the door, his hands clutched tightly on each other, presumably from the cold of the night. His ashy brown hair looked almost white against the blackness of the sky behind him, and his skin was even paler and more translucent. He still looked delicately beautiful. The pocket watch shone like a brilliant gold against his midnight blue T-shirt.

“Huh.” His grey eyes were wide when he looked at her. “Are you trying to seduce me with that purple bathrobe, damp hair and glistening wet skin?”

Blythe glanced down at herself in puzzlement and froze. She had thoughtlessly put on such inappropriate attire and had not dried herself properly with a towel. The image of her dripping wet hair clinging to her skin passed her vision and made her realize in horror how terrible she looked to him—not that she knew why she wanted to look good for him. Her cheeks turned scarlet and he hoped he had not noticed.

She said, “It is lavender, to be specific, and only rats will want to seduce a person like you.”

Alec grunted and folded his arms across his chest defiantly. “We have a self-proclaimed rat over here then. Are you going to invite me in or are you going to let me freeze out here?”

“I must admit the latter is a very intriguing thought,” Blythe opened the door fully and stepped aside to let him in. “But we have more important things to do.”

“I like the sound of that,” He strode in, looking around the place curiously. “Important things to do. What are you trying to suggest?”

Blythe slapped a hand to her forehead in exasperation, her voice rising when she said, “Just sit on the couch and wait while I get you some hot chocolate. Try not to break anything. The last time you came, you…” She let her sentence hang in midair while she entered the kitchen. It did her no good to reveal too many things about that night; she wanted to hear his explanation first.

“I’m allergic to chocolate. Cocoa, to be specific.”

Blythe, already rummaging the cabinets for cocoa powder, stopped abruptly. She had heard of this rare allergy before, but had never met someone in flesh who actually had it. With her mouth still wide open in genuine surprise, she poured a glass of hot water for him instead. When she went back to the living room to give it to him, Alec held it carefully between two hands, grateful for the warmness of the glass. Blythe sat in an armchair near him, watching as he gulped a mouthful of water down.

He kept his eyes on the glass when he said, “This isn’t my first time here, is it? You said something about the last time I was here.”

“You were here about a week ago,” Blythe admitted. “But you knew me when I didn’t. I have never seen you in my life before that, until Jude introduced you to me the other day at school. How is that even remotely possible?”

Silence crept between them. He finished the rest of his water soundlessly, only exhaling heavily as he put it down on the mahogany coffee table.

“You’re not going to believe me,” he sighed and buried his face between his hands. “God, you’re going to think I’m some nut job. A very rude one, too.”

Blythe wanted to reach for his hands, to pull them away and hold them in her own, but she refrained herself from doing so. There was no need for unnecessary physical contact. She waited patiently as he ran his hands up and over his head.

“Do you believe in time-travelling?”