Beginning of Something
Truth Be Told (Part Two)
“Do you believe in time-travelling?” Alec tensed and said the words finally. Blythe drew in ragged breaths as she nodded. “You do?”
“I never did until I met you that night,” she said, a shudder running through her. The words escaped her mouth without her permission, surprising even herself. “You told me you’d gone back in time. I thought I doubted it and deemed it as trash talk, but I guess I only just realized how much of it I already believed in.”
His eyes were bright, almost silver, and he relaxed his shoulders as if a weight had lifted itself off him. “I am a time-traveler, Blythe. The pocket watch—The Transporter—allows me to. How did you end up having it?”
Remembering that she had left her pocket watch in her skirt, she led him upstairs into her bedroom. She put a finger over her lips, telling him to be quiet, and pointed another finger at Minty who was still fast asleep. Cradling the basket in her arms, she gently set it down at the corner of the hallway and shut the bedroom door behind her as she came back in. The act was common enough—she did it every night before she went to sleep—but Alec was gazing at her in a way that made her feel self-conscious.
With her persuasion, he sat down on her bed wordlessly, clearly uncomfortable in the setting despite his snide remarks earlier. She hurried into the bathroom, exchanging her bathrobe for a T-shirt with a Starbucks logo and black shorts. Joining him back on the bed, she slipped her hand into the skirt she had left there and pulled out the pocket watch.
“Somehow you travelled into my house that night,” she began, carefully leaving out details on things she did not want him to know yet, “while everyone was asleep. A noise from outside woke me up. You’re lucky my parents are both heavy sleepers. I’m not sure why Minty didn’t wake up. Anyway, I opened my bedroom door and you knocked into me. Your pocket watch detached from its chain during the collision. Apparently, in your confusion, you had accidently broke my mother’s vase and stepped onto some of the glass pieces”—she jerked her chin toward the faded bloodstain on the wooden floor—“but you only noticed it at the last minute. You asked me to return you the watch as parts of you vanished, but I was too shocked to move.” She held the watch out to him. “Here, take it back.”
He looked very calm at her story and shook his head, declining her offer. “You should keep it. Trust me.”
Blythe complied, laying it down on the bed between them. “Tell me everything. From the very beginning, please.”
“My father died when I was three years old, so I hardly remember anything about him.” He had his head bent forward as he spoke, his hair hiding his eyes. “He was a time-traveler too, and so was my grandfather, my great-grandfather, my great-great-grandfather and so on. It seemed to be a gene that is only passed down to male descendents. My mother tried to hide the truth from me by not telling me about my father at all, even hid all his photos. It was odd, but I thought it was because of her grief, so I never once probed.
“It started when I was ten; ten is the trigger age, it seems. I had my first Travel. It took me back to 1994, to the hospital I was born in. I saw my father through a small window in the surgery room door for the first time since he died. He was smiling so happily, carrying a newborn baby and showing him off to my disheveled-looking mother. I understood that the baby in his arms was me… and I had gone back to the day I was born.
“When I went back to the present, I told my mother what I saw. Finally, she took an old book hidden under her bed and handed it to me. It was my father’s diary. He had a section in it where he jotted down dos and don’ts about time-travelling, and things he wanted his son—me—to take note of. That’s how I learned about Travelling—”
He was interrupted by a piercing glare of white light. Blythe pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, unable to look at Alec without her eyes tearing. The boy swore viciously and scrambled frantically over to her. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. She could feel the vibration and heat coming from his watch.
She struggled to pull free from his grasp. “What are you doing—?”
“Hang on!” was all Alec said before Blythe felt all the air going out of her lungs, as if she were propelled backward by an enormous force against gravity.
“I never did until I met you that night,” she said, a shudder running through her. The words escaped her mouth without her permission, surprising even herself. “You told me you’d gone back in time. I thought I doubted it and deemed it as trash talk, but I guess I only just realized how much of it I already believed in.”
His eyes were bright, almost silver, and he relaxed his shoulders as if a weight had lifted itself off him. “I am a time-traveler, Blythe. The pocket watch—The Transporter—allows me to. How did you end up having it?”
Remembering that she had left her pocket watch in her skirt, she led him upstairs into her bedroom. She put a finger over her lips, telling him to be quiet, and pointed another finger at Minty who was still fast asleep. Cradling the basket in her arms, she gently set it down at the corner of the hallway and shut the bedroom door behind her as she came back in. The act was common enough—she did it every night before she went to sleep—but Alec was gazing at her in a way that made her feel self-conscious.
With her persuasion, he sat down on her bed wordlessly, clearly uncomfortable in the setting despite his snide remarks earlier. She hurried into the bathroom, exchanging her bathrobe for a T-shirt with a Starbucks logo and black shorts. Joining him back on the bed, she slipped her hand into the skirt she had left there and pulled out the pocket watch.
“Somehow you travelled into my house that night,” she began, carefully leaving out details on things she did not want him to know yet, “while everyone was asleep. A noise from outside woke me up. You’re lucky my parents are both heavy sleepers. I’m not sure why Minty didn’t wake up. Anyway, I opened my bedroom door and you knocked into me. Your pocket watch detached from its chain during the collision. Apparently, in your confusion, you had accidently broke my mother’s vase and stepped onto some of the glass pieces”—she jerked her chin toward the faded bloodstain on the wooden floor—“but you only noticed it at the last minute. You asked me to return you the watch as parts of you vanished, but I was too shocked to move.” She held the watch out to him. “Here, take it back.”
He looked very calm at her story and shook his head, declining her offer. “You should keep it. Trust me.”
Blythe complied, laying it down on the bed between them. “Tell me everything. From the very beginning, please.”
“My father died when I was three years old, so I hardly remember anything about him.” He had his head bent forward as he spoke, his hair hiding his eyes. “He was a time-traveler too, and so was my grandfather, my great-grandfather, my great-great-grandfather and so on. It seemed to be a gene that is only passed down to male descendents. My mother tried to hide the truth from me by not telling me about my father at all, even hid all his photos. It was odd, but I thought it was because of her grief, so I never once probed.
“It started when I was ten; ten is the trigger age, it seems. I had my first Travel. It took me back to 1994, to the hospital I was born in. I saw my father through a small window in the surgery room door for the first time since he died. He was smiling so happily, carrying a newborn baby and showing him off to my disheveled-looking mother. I understood that the baby in his arms was me… and I had gone back to the day I was born.
“When I went back to the present, I told my mother what I saw. Finally, she took an old book hidden under her bed and handed it to me. It was my father’s diary. He had a section in it where he jotted down dos and don’ts about time-travelling, and things he wanted his son—me—to take note of. That’s how I learned about Travelling—”
He was interrupted by a piercing glare of white light. Blythe pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, unable to look at Alec without her eyes tearing. The boy swore viciously and scrambled frantically over to her. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. She could feel the vibration and heat coming from his watch.
She struggled to pull free from his grasp. “What are you doing—?”
“Hang on!” was all Alec said before Blythe felt all the air going out of her lungs, as if she were propelled backward by an enormous force against gravity.
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