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shortnonsense · 9 months ago

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Just Ask

The reward for living a long life is having more opportunity to ponder your past choices; one might call it a curse, depending on the person doing the pondering.

If you’ve ever spent time roaming the halls of any local senior care home, then you have firsthand experience with this phenomenon. Men and women sitting alone in their cells—I mean, rooms—thinking, remembering, asking questions, or maybe even talking to no one in particular. These conversations often involve questions—questions that seek to self-evaluate one’s life.

Is the sum of all of our choices the value of our life? What about regrets—or maybe better—do those regrets really matter? Ultimately, we want to know: “Did I live a good life? Did I spend my time well?”

This ponderance of time almost seems to be personified in such places. In fact, let’s go as far as to say that this phenomenon has a name, and he is called Druthers. Druthers loves to whisper, “What if?” when we have less important things to occupy our mind.

The reality of choices or the illusion of options has long been debated amongst those with the privilege of the theoretical; that is, those who can sit and think and discuss instead of standing and working—say, in a field or on an assembly line. But even the common man or woman finds the time once the work is done; it is just no longer in the realm of the theoretical. It is very much in the practical, as it is at the end of one's journey that one has the time to consider steps taken previously.

In the case of Joseph Curtis, who now resides in Unit 278 at the Apple Valley Senior Home, just outside of Cold Springs, Nevada (which is just outside of Reno, Nevada), it was nearly every hour of every day.

Why the senior home was called Apple Valley was never questioned by most of its residents, but Joe did the first time he heard that his eldest son had reserved him a space in the building.

“Why is it called Apple Valley? It’s not in a valley, and they don’t grow apples!” Joe spat.

“I don’t know, Dad. It just sounds nice. It’s a great place! The people are very thoughtful, and they have a pickle ball court!” Joseph, Jr. proclaimed.

“Pickle ball?! Why do I care about pickle ball!? Why can’t I just stay here?” asked Joe.

“Dad, we’ve been over this. My job is sending me west to Los Angeles, and I won’t be around as much as I have been here in Reno,” explained his son. “Besides, it’s all been arranged. We’ve sold the house, and we will be moving next month. Apple Valley just had an opening, and they are excited to meet you.”

“Opening, huh? You know what that means, don’t you? Someone checked out, and I don’t mean checked out of Apple Valley! So this is where you want me to go to die, is it?” Joe grumbled. “Fine. I just didn’t think this is where I would end up. An old folks’ home.”

“You are an ‘old folk,’ Dad. You know, most people would be thrilled to still be up and around at your age. And I am sure you will meet new friends and will start to love the place in no time. All you do around here is stare at the mirror,” said Joseph, Jr.

Joe smiled to himself as he recalled that conversation while sitting by himself in Unit 278, staring at the mirror. He’d just turned ninety-one, and this had now been his home for nearly a year.

“New friends?” he thought to himself. “Sure. Every time someone dies a new friend arrives!”

Joe wasn’t the oldest resident at Apple Valley; that title belonged to one Lana Longsfellow from Portland. But he was one of the few his age who could still, for the most part, manage on his own. Joe tried to get out of his room, but every walk or outing just ended with his returning to sit alone in Unit 278, so why bother?

“Will you be joining us today, Mr. Curtis?” asked Sara, the activities coordinator, in a way too cheery tone. “We are all headed over to the Sierra Nevada Zoological Park! Are you coming along?”

“Great,” thought Joe. “A bunch of caged people looking at some caged animals.” But what he said was, “No, but thank you for asking. I plan to stay in today.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind, the bus leaves in fifteen minutes!” Sara announced as she moved further down the hall.

And so it was that all of these choices, the choice of his son to take that job in L.A. and Joe’s choice to stay home instead of visiting the zoo, had led up to this particular day when the aforementioned Druthers just happened to visit the Apple Valley Senior Home.

“Not going to the zoo?” Druthers asked.

“No,” replied Joe, who didn’t even bother to look over to see who was asking.

“Why not?” asked Druthers. “Looks like a fun place. Lions and tigers and bears.”

“Oh my!” filled in Joe. “I just didn’t feel like it today.”

“And last week? When every one went to the mall? Or the week before that when they took that trip into Tahoe?” Druthers asked.

At that point Joe turned to see who it was that seemed to know a bit too much about his schedule. When his eyes focused, he saw a youngish man, medium build, with sandy blonde hair—or was it strawberry blonde? It seemed as though his appearance changed slightly as he moved, or maybe it was just a trick of the light. One thing was for certain—Joe had never met this person darkening his doorstep, or whatever you call that area under the door for unit 278.

“Who’s asking?” Joe quipped.

Joe was’t the friendliest person, but he wasn't a full on grump either. He had simply lived a long life and felt that he had met as many people as any one person should have to meet.

“Me? Oh, I’m no one in particular, or at least no one of any particular importance. My name is Druthers. It is very nice to meet you, Joe,” said Druthers.

“And how is it that you know me and what I have or haven’t been doing with my time?” replied Joe.

“Now that is a very astute question,” responded Druthers, “because that is exactly what I make it my business to know. I know about time—specifically, how people use it. I know when you choose to say yes or no with your time. You know, everyone has a set amount of time, but we all get to decide how to use it.”

Druthers said that last part with unusual excitement, like he had just discovered the truth.

Druthers went on, “And I tend to find myself around people who spend more than a usual amount of time considering those choices. Which is why I find myself here, ‘darkening your doorstep,’ as you so eloquently put it.

“You are an odd duck,” responded Joe. “But I suppose you are right about one thing. I do spend most of my time looking back at my choices, and how I ended up here, in Unit 278. And I don’t just mean the most recent arrangement with my son or how he chose to leave me here to pursue his dream, but all the choices, all the way back.” Joe’s voice drifted as his mind wondered.

“And why the mirror?” asked Druthers.

“What? What do you mean?” asked Joe.

“The mirror—why do you stare at the mirror while you ponder?” clarified Druthers.

“Oh, well, yes, I guess I do,” answered Joe, ignoring the nagging feeling that this whole conversation was strange. “Well…I suppose it’s better than staring at the wall. And my window view is just the parking lot. I get bored of whatever junk is on TV. The mirror helps me remember. When I look at my reflection, I don’t see a ninety-one year old man. I see a young man of eighteen, just out of high school, ready to make his mark on the world. Or I see myself at thirty, when I had Joe, Jr. Or maybe I’m sixty-eight, when my Alice passed. The mirror provides focus, I suppose. And after all, it’s all I have to do now, isn’t it? Sit and think about the past, what I did, what I should have done instead,” Joe went on.

“Why?” interrupted Druthers.

“Why what?” responded Joe.

“Why those ages? Why those specific times? Why do you search your reflection for moments in your past? What do you hope to find?” asked Druthers.

Joe found that he had to pause to think. He wondered again who this Druthers was and why he was asking such bothersome questions. Why was he poking at an old man who was just trying to mind his own business? But also, why was he so willing to give answers? Joe hadn’t had this long of a conversation with anyone in months.

Finally, Joe came to an answer and decided for whatever reason that this man standing in front of him deserved the answer. “I know the easy answer to that question is that they represent moments of doubt or possible regret, but then you will just ask why I have regrets. After all, what’s the point now? I’m at the end of the trail, all alone. No one and no past situation that I regret is even around or relevant to my life now. So really, I search my reflection to find the answer to one question: ‘Did I live a good life?’”

Now it was Druther’s turn to allow a pregnant pause.

When his response came full-term, he delivered these pointed questions: “What if those critical points in time were relevant to your life right now? What if you could go back and change one thing to ensure that you find the answer to your ultimate question?”

Joe locked eyes with Druthers and had the building suspicion that this guy was either selling snake oil or truly had an answer to his queries, and that he could make good on his implications. He also got the very real feeling in his gut that this Mr. Druthers was not to be trusted, but what did he have to lose? Joe was very much aware of the commonality of conmen taking advantage of the elderly, people who were just a little too trusting and assumed the best of people. Joe, though, was not one of those types of senior citizens; he had been hardened by life and was skeptical of everyone and everything. There was no such thing as a free lunch, and he intended to get everything in writing before shaking hands.

“What are you getting at?” Joe eventually asked.

Druthers began, “What if you had three opportunities to go back for a short amount of time and make a change, to say yes where you said no, or to stay when you left? As I said earlier, I happen to make it my business to know how people use their time, but also to provide a way to deal with these last few regrets that shout back at us when we stare too long into the mirror. I can give you one ten-minute window into your past once a day, for the next three days. One chance to right a wrong or take the path not taken,” Druthers added. “What do you say to that?”

“I say B.S.!” quipped Joe, even though he knew he didn’t truly believe his accusation. Something about this man had convinced him that this was the opportunity of a lifetime, so to speak, and that he should jump in with both feet. “But, just for the sake of this ridiculous conversation, what do you want from me in return? Someone offering this miraculous snap of the fingers is going to want something in return!”

“Maybe I am just trying to make the world a better place,” offered Druthers. “What I get out of our exchange is my business. You either ask for this chance to make a different choice, or you don’t. All you need to do is ask—no bargaining or shaking hands or signing a document in blood at the crossroads. Just ask.”

Joe wasn’t sure what to say next. He was, for the first time in his recent memory, speechless. Joe was the type to always have a word edgewise, or a quick one-liner to ease the tension. A lifetime of sales does that to a person, or maybe it was his ability to fill the empty space with words that made him a lifetime salesman. Always on the road, always shaking new hands, always finding just the right words to satisfy the need of the customer. But not now. Not this time. And this man was certainly not the customer. He was very certain that he was the one filling that role in this transaction. But what exactly was this guy selling? More importantly, what would Joe be buying, and how would he pay? But at the end of the day, the hopelessness of all the regrets piled up beyond his ability to talk himself out of the situation, and he found himself uttering, “I would like to go back and make a different choice.”

Druthers grinned, not unlike the mystical Cheshire Cat, yet without the slow disappearing act. “Great!” was all he said. Then, just like that, he turned on his heels and walked away, calling as he left, “See you tomorrow at 10 a.m. sharp!”

“What the…” thought Joe. “That’s it? Come back here!” he shouted. Joe jumped up—if you can call it that at this point in his life—and walked as fast as he could to the hallway to find it empty. He kept pursuing until he reached the reception desk.

“Can I help you, Mr. Curtis?” asked Jenny, the front desk volunteer.

“No, no you can’t,” said Joe quietly. He stared out the glass doors for a full minute before returning to his room.

As Joe sat, once again alone in his room, he wondered if he had simply dozed off for those last few minutes. Maybe that whole conversation was a day dream? If so, what an odd vision. But if it wasn’t all in his head, then he should certainly prepare for Druthers’ return. Even if it was a dream, at least his dream had given him a more specific parameter to guide his pondering. He had spent so much time asking far too general questions and now could ask a very specific one. What ten-minute point of time in his past was so crucial that his going back and making one change would alter the course of his life? What one choice, or at least the first of three, would he choose to change (if this whole mind game was actually real, that is)?

From there, Joe sat and thought for the rest of the day. He realized as it began to get dark, and the noises of his returning zoo trip neighbors’ arrival caught his attention, that he had skipped lunch altogether and was in danger of missing dinner!

He got up and was about to make the short jaunt to the cafeteria when he stopped at the doorway to return to his little table near the TV. He got out a small piece of paper and an old chewed-up pencil and wrote three dates. Then, as if he had just completed a full day’s work, he sighed, dropped the pencil, and smiled.

As he ate his meatloaf, which wasn’t half bad, by the way, he thought no more of it, having come to a conclusion. The dates were set and written down, as if in blood. He would trouble his soul no more on the subject until tomorrow at 10 a.m.

Joe hadn’t set an alarm for decades. Since he had spent the majority of his life on the road, in one hotel room or another, he had trained his internal clock to wake up at 6 a.m. sharp to get ahead of the local work traffic. But this morning he found himself wide awake at 5:15 a.m., and after trying to get back to sleep for several minutes, he surrendered to the day and dragged himself to the bathroom. It wasn’t that he had had trouble sleeping, but he did have odd dreams that night, and for Joe, any dream was odd. He typically did not dream, or, as his late wife often said, he just didn’t remember his dreams.

Either way, he certainly remembered his dreams that night, and as he brushed his teeth, it was as if he were trying to brush away the memories of that alternate dream world. Now there was nothing to do but go to the cafeteria and hope that the coffee was ready. Then wait.

At 9:45 a.m., Joe found himself sitting in his room once again, by himself, but not staring at the mirror, instead he was staring at his open door. His mind was churning, half laughing at himself that this figment of his imagination would actually reappear at 10 a.m. and half rehearsing his words for when Druthers did appear.

And then, like some mystical genie, he did. In fact, when Druthers said, “Good morning,” it seemed to Joe as if he had been there for several minutes, and yet, at the same exact time, Druthers materialized right before his eyes at exactly 10 a.m.

“Good morning,” Joe eventually responded. “Come in, um, do you want to sit down?” Joe wasn’t sure if this was going to be a long transaction or if maybe they would go elsewhere. Consequently, he was surprised when Joe simply stood where he was.

“All I need to know is the day and time,” Druthers said, after a bit of an awkward silence. “And I’d appreciate it if you phrased it in the form of a request—a well-mannered one at that.”

Joe thought that was an odd way to start, but this whole situation was odd, so who’s to say. Then he asked, “Could you please send me back to October 17th, 1957, at noon?”

“Why?” inquired Druthers.

“Why?” Joe mimicked with a touch of sarcasm. “Do you see my room? Or should I say, my ‘unit’? I know it’s not the worst, but I also know there is so much better out there. I never put much stock in money being the most important thing in the world, but I have lived long enough to know that if I was in a little better position financially, then my current living arrangement would be vastly changed. Maybe I wouldn’t have to be apart from my son…maybe this whole thing could have been avoided with the right retirement account.”

Joe paused to collect his thoughts, then continued. “On that October day, 1957, I had a lunch meeting with a friend from my college days. I had just begun to work the local sales route for Hoover vacuums when Alan called me up and said he had this great investment opportunity. I laughed, but agreed, mainly just to get a chance to catch up and relive our glory days.” Over lunch Alan described a new, cutting-edge technology he was working on that he felt would get some real traction, but he needed some investors to get the ball rolling. He had figured out some way to streamline production for sock manufacturing. Can you imagine it? Socks. I guess he came up with the idea during the war when he had to walk for miles in one pair of worn-out socks.”

“He asked me to put in $5000, which was a small fortune back then, and would have comprised my entire savings account and then some. The whole idea was ludicrous, and I told him such. I said he would never get that kind of money for something so uninspiring. I’m sure you’ve guessed it, but he did get that money, and it did gain traction! Soon, his manufacturing technology was being used not only for socks, but for most of the major clothing and textile plants all across the country!”

Joe let that linger, then began again, “So that’s why. I want to go back and say yes to Alan, and so change the course of my life from that point on. I just need the ten minutes you offered to agree to his investment opportunity.”

“So, money,” Druthers responded. “It’s always money. But hey, it’s your ten minutes!” And before Joe could defend himself, before he could explain that it wasn’t just about the money, but how it would bring his family together, he was there, at the table in Fred’s Cafe in Burbank, California, locking eyes with Alan.

He was amazed. He was more than amazed, he was utterly speechless, and soon his friend noticed as well. “You alright, Joe?” asked Alan.

Then it all dawned on Joe that this whole thing was actually happening. He thought there would be some sort of magic spell or incantation, but it just happened instantly, seamlessly. Then, in the next moment, he realized he only had ten minutes! How long had he just been sitting there, staring like a mute?!

“Sorry, just got lost in thought, go on,” Joe said, trying to cover for his misstep.

“Well, there isn’t much else to say! I’ve told you everything I had prepared to say. You were just commenting on how ridiculous it all sounded,” Alan said, sounding confused and frustrated.

Joe stammered out a quick apology and stated that he just needed a minute to let it all sink in. Then he quickly reached into his briefcase for his checkbook. He ripped out his freshly signed $5000 check and handed it to Alan, all while explaining how excited he was to have this opportunity.

“Now, remember…give me a few days before you cash that check,” Joe added. “I give you my word that I am all in on your idea. If I seem confused in a few minutes as to why I gave you the money, just tell me, ‘It will be worth it.’ Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get going. I hate to rush, but I have a sales appointment in thirty minutes, and you now how this L.A. traffic can be!”

With that, Joe gathered up his things and hustled out, leaving a confused Alan, holding his check and smiling.

Once inside his car, a 1950 baby blue Chevy, Joe had an idea. He quickly got out a sheet of paper and scribbled a note to himself. As best he could he tried to explain to himself why he had just given away his life’s savings and why he should trust Alan and not back out of the deal. He, of course, could not go into the whole truth of the matter, or else he might think himself crazy and check into a loony bin. But he could explain why it was a good investment and why he should trust his gut. He signed the note, adding a few details to ensure that his future (or was it past?) self would know that the note was trustworthy. Then, taking in a big breath, he caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. He was so young! Before his eyes he began to age; soon he was staring at the reflection to which he had grown accustomed to seeing. Nothing had changed on that count. But then he focused on the background behind his face.

“This was certainly not Unit 278,” he thought. Immediately, it all started to sink in. The mirror he was in front of was huge! He backed away, startled, and turned to look around. At that exact moment, a lifetime of altered memories flooded his brain. It was like the most severe brain freeze you’ve ever experienced. His mind was trying to reconcile two very different lives, two paths taken simultaneously. It was like he could remember two different scenarios with each point in time he focused on. But soon his old life faded, like that horrible dream he had had last night. Now his new life was the dominant memory. He was merely aware that it was not the original.

He considered how confused he was all those years ago after his lunch with Alan when, from his point of view, he seemed to go straight from having lunch at Fred’s Cafe to sitting in his car in the blink of an eye. And now, sixty-six years later, that little gap of missing time was finally complete. He laughed as he thought back on those early days of getting investor checks in the mail. They were small at first, then bigger and bigger as the years went by, until he could eventually quit his sales job in 1970. He had taken his money, invested some, and with the rest had bought a chain of small automatic car washes throughout Southern California, which did quite well in their own right.

Joe shook his head, amazed at how ten minutes had changed his life so dramatically. It was a rush to remember his life this way for the first time! Now it seemed he was living on Lake Tahoe in a penthouse condo overlooking snowcapped peaks. Much better than Apple Valley Senior Care Home Unit 278, that was certain. Then, a knock at the door caught his attention, grounding him to his new reality.

“That must be Druthers!” he proclaimed out loud, with no one to hear.

As he pulled open the door enthusiastically, he was taken aback by the fact that instead of a mysterious man standing on his doorstep, there was a young woman with a surprised look upon her face.

“Oh, it’s you, Lydia,” said Joe. He seemed to know her. Then it all caught up with him—of course he knew her! Lydia was his in-home healthcare worker he had hired to check up on him every day.

“Good morning, Mr. Curtis!” squeaked Lydia. “How are you this morning? Are you feeling well? You don’t look well. Maybe you should sit down and let me take your vitals.”

As Lydia led Joe to the nearest couch, it all came rushing in like a cold wind. Yes, his financial windfall had certainly changed his housing situation, but it had not solved his family problems. His wife had still passed away about the same time, and his son had still gone to work in L.A. instead of staying nearby. The money had allowed Joe to live in his condo, so he could afford in-home care, but Joe, Jr. had still chosen to venture off and leave him alone.

Lydia, finally satisfied that Joe was not in need of further medical attention, eventually said goodbye, leaving Joe alone. Again. And once again, Joe sat and pondered. All that had really changed (in an important way anyhow) was that he now had a much larger room with a much larger mirror to stare at. And the view—that certainly was an improvement…Lake Tahoe was beautiful.

“But, why?” thought Joe. “Why did it seem like there had been no change when it came to his family and friends? Why had he still ended up alone? That question brought almost instant answers as his new memories filled in the gaps. He may not have needed to be away due to his sales job, but he had still found reasons to be gone while his son was growing up. An important investment trip or a cruise or going out to scout possible sites for another car wash…these things had taken up his time and attention.

It would seem, then, that more money had not changed the answer to his primary question. Another knock at the door.

“Lydia, I told you I feel fine!” exclaimed Joe as he swung open the door to find a bemused Druthers. “Now you show up!” noted Joe. “Where have you been?!”

“Joe, I like you, but you aren’t the only person out there asking the big questions. I had a few other appointments,” explained Druthers. “How do you like the new digs?”

“I hate it,” Joe said, surprised by his own words. “Well, what I mean is, this isn’t where I expected to end up.”

“Isn’t that what you said to your son about Apple Valley?” replied Druthers.

Joe was taken aback with that question for two reasons, the first being that Apple Valley was from his old life, and he had difficulty focusing on those recently overlapped memories, but also because…how could Druthers know about that?

Druthers continued, “I know what you’re thinking. How could I know about that? I suppose I’ve been listening to you for a while now. You are an excellent opportunity to satisfy some of my curiosities. For example, why did you assume that changing your financial past would change your relationships? Or why did you, knowing your previous life trajectory, not take steps to correct your relationship with your son? But, most of all, did you find an answer to your ultimate question? Did you live a good life?”

Joe considered his words carefully in response.

“I think I assumed our relational problems were financial. But, deep down, I also knew that wasn’t really the case. That missed investment opportunity from Alan was always a big regret for me, one of those unanswered ‘what ifs.’ A big part of me hoped I could get rich and the other thing would just take care of itself. But, hey, I get two more changes, correct?” Joe asked, sounding more optimistic.

“Sure, sure,” agreed Druthers. “Yes, let's continue moving forward. I remember that you had all your chosen dates predetermined before this first one had been experienced. Do you still plan to act on your original plan, or will you consider a new strategy?”

“Sticking to the plan,” Joe finally said.

With that Druthers nodded and walked out, promising to return as planned the next day at 10 a.m. sharp, leaving Joe to once again sit alone in his much-nicer-than Apple Valley Unit 278 condo. So he sat and looked out over the sky blue waters of Lake Tahoe as he counted the minutes until bedtime, the date for his next appointment with destiny held firmly in his mind.

It seems that now is as good a time as any to fill you in on Joe’s relationship with his late wife, Alice. Theirs was a high school romance common for the time. They both attended UCLA and were married their junior year. He began his sales job shortly after graduation while Alice started teaching 4th grade at a local elementary school. He would be gone on the road for weeks at a time, but when he was home, they truly enjoyed their time together. Kids? We’ll get to that later.

What is important now is that as the years went by, Joe found it increasingly difficult to remember that he was in fact a married man while three states away from home. Alice would ask why he didn’t resign and get a local job so they could start a family. His answer always had something to do with it not being the right time, or maybe once this happened, or when that deal was finalized. Then, when the investment money started rolling in, Joe was too preoccupied with money management and soon, Alice had stopped asking altogether. Despite all this, Alice was still very much in love with Joe, even when she began to pick up on the clues that Joe might be having an affair.

She had noticed that although his sales trips took him all over the western U.S., he spent more and more time in the Reno, Nevada area. One day she decided to take a trip of her own after a random piece of mail addressed to a Mrs. Regina Curtis arrived at their southern California home.

And that was how Mrs. Alice Curtis found herself standing outside 7523 S. Spring Bend Rd., on the south side of Reno. She had stood in that spot for several minutes, with the now tear-stained envelope in her hand, before finally knocking on the door.

A voice from inside called out, “Coming!”

The door opened to reveal a young brunette woman who was very much pregnant.

“Yes, can I help you?” the presumed Mrs. Regina Curtis asked.

Alice had spent the entire trip in her studio motel room, rehearsing what she would say to this person whom she very much suspected was in the process of stealing away her husband. But she was not prepared for what she was now taking in. Obviously this woman had already stolen her husband, and so she began to weep.

Two years prior to that day, Regina was working at a rental car desk inside the Reno-Tahoe International Airport. She was twenty-five and had dreams of one day going to nursing school, but in the meantime this job paid the bills. One particular fall day a man came to her desk to pick up a car. He picked up a conversation with her as well, and they soon found themselves having dinner together. His name was Joe Curtis, as you may have guessed, and he was charming.

Six months later she no longer worked at the rental car desk, nor was she attending nursing school. Her relationship with Joe blossomed, and soon she was flying out to meet him at some of his other sales locations. Joe paid for it all, of course. She knew it couldn’t last, but it was fun, and why not have some fun before settling down? Joe made promises, but who knew where that would take them? One can’t live on promises.

One year later she realized she had not even thought of nursing school in some time. And one day she found herself in a doctor’s office listening to a heartbeat that was not her own. With the news of impending fatherhood, Joe and Regina tied the knot. For Joe it was a second knot of course, late one evening in a Reno wedding chapel. Joe bought a starter home on the south side of Reno and set up his new, and second, wife with a comfortable, if not modest, lifestyle.

Regina was living the dream…until one day she heard a knock at the door and found an unknown weeping woman at her doorstep.

All of this led to Mrs. Curtis sitting on the other Mrs. Curtis’ couch one day in 1965.

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” began Alice, who was having difficulty sorting out her emotions. “This bill was sent to my house, and it’s addressed to ‘Mrs. Regina Curtis,’ which I presume is you.”

Regina wasn’t tracking and was also dealing with major pregnancy mood swings.

“I’m sorry my mail went to your home by accident, but why didn’t you just mark it ‘return to sender?’”

“Because,” stumbled Alice “…because I am Mrs. Curtis, Mrs. Alice Curtis. My husband is Joe Curtis. We have been married since 1952.”

“Oh, well that explains it!” exclaimed Regina. “My husband’s name is also Joe Curtis—what a coincidence! We were married this past year, and now we’re expecting our first child in a few months!”

Before Regina’s words could finish echoing off the wallpaper, Alice erupted in tears once again. “Joe always said he wanted children, but he said he just wasn’t ready. I stopped asking several years ago. But now this!”

Regina dropped her cup as she began to grasp what Alice was saying. Since she had met Joe when he was on a work trip, his weeks away were simply how they lived. No questions were asked. Now it all slid into view as she took in the very clear sadness in this woman’s eyes.

They each shared their stories, apologizing several times along the way. Once it was clear that Regina had no idea Alice existed, all anger towards her dissipated, and each of the women began to develop a very specific anger towards Joe. After sharing stories, a plan was hatched. Joe would be summoned home, to his Reno home, and Alice would be waiting, with dinner on the table.

One might tend to feel a high level of righteous anger for Alice, the original Mrs. Curtis, being that she was the one cheated on, lied to, spurned. But consider Regina’s point of view. She was a young woman who had been swept off her feet, impregnated, and set up in suburban Reno as the prototypical wife and mom-to-be only to find out that her marriage was not legitimate. This, of course, meant that her child wasn’t either, and that she was, “the other woman” in this story. So while the two of them conspired to hold Joe accountable, Regina made plans for what she was to do after everything was said and done. How would she support herself and her child without a real husband? Would she be homeless as well? She was conflicted about her feelings towards Joe; of course she didn’t want to be a home wrecker, but she had a strong motherly sense of self-preservation as well.

A few days later Joe took the red-eye flight back to Reno from his trip to Montana to tour a recently purchased plot that he had plans to develop. He was tired and was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. As he turned the key to the front door at 7523 S. Spring Bend Road, he heard a familiar song playing inside. He smiled and started to hum along as he took off his jacket, but as he slipped off his shoes, his blood suddenly turned cold, and he could hear his heart beating.

“That song,” thought Joe, “it’s all wrong.” It was the song he and Alice had danced to on their first date. It didn’t belong here.

A feeling began to build in his gut, working its way up his spine, crashing into his brain. His worlds were colliding, the worlds he had spent years cultivating. So although it was a surprise when he walked into the kitchen to find Alice where Regina should be, it wasn’t a complete shock.

Joe thought about that day in Reno as he sat in his condo counting the minutes. In fact, it was one of those moments in time that haunted him most days. All throughout his affair with Regina, he was fully aware that a day like that day would eventually come. He didn’t really know how he had let it get that far…one thing had just led to another, and when Regina became pregnant, he didn’t know what to do. He still didn’t know what to do. He now had the power to go back and correct a huge mistake in his past, but to what ends?

This was the question he ruminated upon. If he went back to the day he met Regina and corrected his adulterous behavior, Joe, Jr. would never have been born! And Alice had loved him despite his affair; she had stuck with him even after the baby was born, even after Regina broke it off with him. In fact, Alice had been faithful despite his infidelity, right up until her death. Regina just couldn’t live with how he had misled her, and once Joe, Jr. turned two, she was out of both of their lives. Alice had raised the boy like he was her own. So, how could he then go back and leave her in an attempt to stay with Regina?

Joe just couldn’t see how he could make a change that wouldn’t incur some loss. His goal was to live a good life, which meant being a good and faithful husband and a good and supportive father, but at this very moment, those two goals seemed mutually exclusive. So he continued to think, well past dinner and sunset.

Sleep eventually came, despite the burden pressing on his heart and mind, and soon the clock rang out at 10 a.m. And like an eleventh ding of the clock, a knock came in rhythm at the door. Joe let Druthers in with a sigh, and they both took seats in the well manicured, expansive living room. Joe looked liked death warmed over.

“I see your second choice wasn’t as cut and dry as you let on,” Druthers observed.

“Not entirely. The date was obvious, but what I should change—that is the question with no apparent answer,” responded Joe.

“Yes, yes,” added Druthers, “the son or the wife, that is a tough one.”

Joe had stopped becoming shocked at Druther’s ability to seemingly know what he was thinking at any given moment, and just decided to roll with it.

“Do you have any advice, since you seem to know so much about me?” asked Joe.

“I don’t give advice,” Druthers quickly responded. “But I do find that when I feel a problem is binary, it helps to seek out a third option. And, I would point out, that your desire to live a good life does not mean you get everything you desire.”

Joe considered this for a moment, then considered the date and time he had already chosen for his second life alteration. He took out a note pad and scribbled down the date, then another date almost twenty years prior. He looked at both of them, closed his eyes, and heard himself speak out loud before he could talk himself out of it.

“Druthers,” Joe began, “Would you please send me back to June 2nd, 1951, at 3 p.m.?”

When Joe opened his eyes, he was in what appeared to be a public restroom. He was washing his hands and looking in a scratched-up mirror. He had forgotten what eighteen-year-old Joe looked like; so many years had passed since then. But he quickly snapped to attention. As this was his second journey back in time in as many days, he was more prepared for the experience and knew that what he needed to do would require his entire ten-minute window.

He took a brisk walk out to the courtyard, where he knew his beloved Alice would be waiting. He remembered this day well. They would graduate later that evening. This was the end of their last day of high school. The plan was for both of them to attend UCLA in the fall, then eventually get married and live happily ever after. The only problem with that plan was that Joe knew it didn’t happen. There was no happily ever after.

Druthers was right…there was a third option. He could still live a life of integrity. He could still do the right thing. But he also knew himself, and ten minutes at any given point in his life would not change his proclivities to wander. Alice was better than he, and he would not waste her life on him, not again. The third choice was to break it off now, and wait for Regina. Maybe a life with her and Joe, Jr. was still possible? Hopefully he could honor Alice’s faithfulness and seek out his son.

Joe sat down next to Alice and began his speech. What came out was a mishmash of words and emotions, and soon he could tell by the confusion plastered all over her face that he wasn’t hitting the mark. Time was running out. So he went with the the direct approach.

“Alice, I have loved every minute with you, but I have thought long and hard about what comes next,” Joe stammered. “We need to break up. Right now. You have so much more to discover in life than me, so much more to offer the world. It will hurt for awhile, but in time you will find someone else worthy of your love. I am just not that person. I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”

Joe didn’t plan to hear her response. He got up and hurried away, knowing that if he blipped out, she would just end up talking him back into the relationship. He needed to get away, as far away as he could. So he ran. Five blocks later, he slowed to a fast walk. Putting his hands in his pocket, he realized he had his last report card and a short stubby pencil, so he pulled both out and wrote as fast has he could while breathing heavily. Just as he did the first time with his friend, he quickly explained to himself, in a way he would understand, why he had broken up with Alice.

In fact, he decided to go ahead and suggest waiting on college, to avoid running into her a few years down the road. Having run out of space on the back of the card, he sat down on the nearest bus stop and waited.

“How long had it been since he arrived in 1951?” he thought. “Surely it’s been ten minutes.”

And even before he finished his thought, he was back…sort of. Once again, he was in a different room, this one even bigger. He gripped a nearby pillow, knowing that a whopper of a brain freeze was about to set in.

And it did.

This one knocked him to the ground. He screamed in agony as memories were ripped from his mind, taking with them the emotional anchors that resisted their removal. How long? How long would this go on? He writhed back and forth on the ground, trying to hold onto the fading memories of Alice: their wedding, their honeymoon, their vacations, the years together raising Joe, Jr., and the years together afterward, as they grew old. Then, all at once, he realized he was losing his son as well. He had never met Regina, or if he had, they hadn't ended up together.

He was alone, had been alone, was always alone.

As his new history was overwriting his old, he realized the consequences of skipping the direct-to-college plan. Joe had been drafted into the Korean Conflict in August of 1951 after his college admissions were pulled. He spent two years in Korea, watching friends die, suffering in frigid temperatures. One near death experience after another.

When he had finally returned home in the spring of ’53, Joe had had no interest in college or relationships. But once a salesman, always a salesman, even if in a previous life. It was better now—no more wife or son to worry about while he was one the road, no more anxiety about being gone too long. Sure, there had been women, one in every town, but no promises, and no commitments.

His friend Alan still had tracked him down though, so his investment money still came right on schedule. Without his two wives and son, he had been able to focus completely on making even more investments, so much so that he was no longer sitting alone in a condo overlooking Lake Tahoe. He was instead residing alone, apart from the serving staff, in Malibu, California. He had purchased a sprawling, ranch-style mansion with a rapturous view of the Pacific in 1995. After his time in Korea, he had vowed never to live anywhere with the possibility of snow.

The brain freeze had been done for some time, but Joe remained on the floor. The maid came running when she noticed, and he waved her away, promising that he was fine despite all evidence to the contrary. While lying there, he thought back on his life—so much wealth, but no relationships. He had done the most honorable thing he could think of given the limited time, but he should have known that keeping Regina and Joe, Jr. in his life was never a surety. How could he have predicted Korea? He was in high school during World War 2 and in college during Korea originally, so you could say he was positioned in history in such a way that the idea of serving in the military never entered his mind. He had lost several friends and family members in both wars, but was never himself personally at risk. That had all changed when he broke up with Alice. His note had struck a cord. He had stayed away, far away, and Alice was what had tethered him to humanity more than he had realized. Without her it was only about the money.

A knock came at the door, and this time Joe didn’t run to answer. He knew who it would be, and he knew what he would say. He just wanted to stay on the floor and try to hold onto the memories as they drifted away. He could still picture his son being born, but what did he look like as a grown man? That was a more difficult picture to bring into focus.

Eventually the maid let Druthers in. He sauntered over to the living room and sat down near Joe. They both sat in silence for quite some time.

Finally, Joe broke the silence. “Does this mean I’ve lived a good life? After all, I’ve given up my son so that Alice could live a better life. Doesn’t that mean something?”

Druthers shrugged. “I’ve never claimed to be the one with the answers or the one who judges lives. I just provide the opportunities to make a change. But for what it’s worth, Alice did live a much happier life, as did Regina. Both were happily married, with kids.”

Joe was pleased to hear that. Maybe it wasn’t all for nothing? But now what? He had his money, but it’s not as if he was being elected philanthropist of the year or anything. Sure, he’d given money to this cause or that need, but nothing that ever really cost him anything.

So maybe he was going about this all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t about him and how good of a life he had lived. At this point he had technically lived three lives, which lent itself to a certain unique perspective. Sure, the first two were more like far-off dreams now, but some memories had stuck.

Joe had made sure the two women he had cared about lived a better life, but was that all his purpose was on this planet?

He had already decided against his original third date—completely irrelevant now, so once again, he was forced to pick a new date, a new change.

Druthers, seeing a conversation was not in the plan today, simply stood up and said goodbye with his usual, “See you tomorrow at 10 a.m. for the final date.”

Joe didn’t even say goodbye. He was deep in thought, going through each and every day he could think of in search of the best use of his final opportunity. He scanned the years and decades, the faces and meetings. He considered people he’d known, lives he had impacted.

Joe was about to give up and go to bed when one distant memory tapped his subconscious. It was one of those memories that sort of lingered in the periphery. He hadn’t given it much thought for years, decades even, but there it was now, clear as day. Like someone had hung a flashing neon sign above it.

“Of course—that’s it!” Joe said out loud.

He had been so focused on ensuring that he had lived a good life that he had missed the whole point, and this memory completely flipped his perspective on the problem. He started to write the date down, but then froze, for although he could remember the situation, he had no idea when the exact date was.

Joe wasn’t at all sure how to solve this problem, and now he was even more frustrated. Why would he arrive at such an obvious answer only to not know how he could get there! Maybe something would come to him in the morning. One more night, and then his quest would be accomplished.

For the first time in sixty years, Joe slept in—well, past 6 a.m. anyway. He slept all the way to 8:15 a.m. and woke up with a clear mind and a steady will. After a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, he sent the serving staff home for the day, and in fact gave them the rest of the week off. He didn’t think they would be around after today anyway since something had changed each time he went back in time, so who knew how things would end up?

He went to the front door and left it open for Druthers, then returned to sit on the couch. A few minutes later, his guest arrived and made himself comfortable.

“You know,” began Joe, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something. What exactly are you? Some kind of ‘time genie?’”

“Yes, I’m a time genie,” smiled Druthers, “…at least, that is how I am going to introduce myself from now on. I like it!”

They both laughed, then Druthers continued, “It’s more like I’m the personification of your will. Some people spend so much time pondering their regrets or asking unanswerable questions that they end up providing a pathway for me to enter their world, and they in turn provide me a way to send them back.”

Joe considered that, “My will, huh? Then, am I correct to think that you don’t really need me to give you a specific date and time?” The thought had occurred to him as he was stirring the brown sugar into his oatmeal that morning. “Why would someone with power to manipulate time need me to give them a specific date?”

Druthers smiled, “I like you. Have I told you that? Yes, I like the way you think. No, I don’t need the date. In fact, you sent yourself back to those specific times when you just experienced the memory. I have simply found that nailing down the date helps speed up the process.”

“Terrific!” responded Joe. “Because for my last ‘ask,’ I don’t have the foggiest idea what day it was, though I remember the moment quite well.”

“Just focus on the memory,” began Druthers. “When you have a clear picture of the moment, just ask.”

Joe sat for moment, emptied his mind, then put all of his will into the memory of his choosing…one that was so insignificant at the time, but would now be his defining moment. When he was certain that he was sufficiently focused, he said, “Druthers, it was an honor to know you, and I appreciate you picking me for this opportunity. Please send me back to this moment in my past.”

On the previous two times, Joe had simply opened his eyes to his past after asking, but this time, Druthers had a few words to give first.

“Joe, you are a unique individual, with so much more to offer than what you have already, which is the real reason I picked you. You just needed to strip a few things away to see it. I give you my word that your choice to ask to go back to that moment will truly and finally give you your answer.”

With that, Druthers faded from Joe’s vision, and the world around him shifted. He went from his spacious living room with a view of the blue Pacific to a cold, crisp night, standing by his car at a local gas station outside Tacoma, Washington. Although Joe could not remember it, it was in fact November 17th, 1963 at 8:33 p.m.

It was the tail end of a two-week long sales trip throughout the Northwest region, and this was his last stop before the long drive home. The moment came flooding back to Joe’s mind. Then, once again, urgency clicked in, not because of the ten-minute window, but because this time, he knew he had even less time. Joe’s urgency was based on the fact that he knew the reason he chose this moment in his past was because an armed robber was about to run out of the gas station, having just held up the cashier, and would jump into a nearby station wagon, forcing a bewildered and irate young woman out before racing away from the scene of the crime.

At the time Joe had been so tired from his trip that he simply ignored the scene, got in his car, and drove away. Assuming that other people would help, he didn’t want to get caught up in all of the police reports and court testimonies that would undoubtedly occur.

What had caught his memory last night was one detail of the story that he wasn’t aware of at the time, but would read later read about in the newspaper. There had been a sleeping child in the back seat of that station wagon. The screaming woman was a young mother. The child would be found days later, dead from exposure, after being left on the side of some rarely traveled dirt road. Joe’s plan was to change all of that.

Joe didn’t think, he just acted. He’d spent years of his now three lives pondering, and the time of thinking was done. He never imagined that this is where he would end up, but this is where he needed to be.

He put the gas pump back and started to walk toward the green station wagon that was parked at the pump next to his. He noted that the young mom was simply sitting in the driver’s seat, looking over what appeared to be a day planner of some sort, having no idea what this day would actually hold for her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the armed robber, whose name had completely eluded his memory, but he did remember thinking he was so young to be committing such a horrible act. Joe put himself between the car and the gas station doors and began counting seconds in his mind. He had a rough idea that only about thirty seconds or so had passed between when the man had run out the double glass doors to when he had driven off in the car.

And then everything went into motion, in many ways like slow motion, but with the certainty of watching a speeding train approach a stalled car. It was inevitable, only a matter of time. The robber locked his eyes on the car as soon as he came out, completely ignoring Joe, who was standing next to the gas pump. Joe waited until he reached out to open the driver’s side door before he sprung into action. First, he grabbed the man’s other hand, the one still holding the gun, then threw his shoulder into the man’s torso, knocking him off balance.

Joe had no idea what the repercussions of this conflict would be, but he was prepared to assume that he was putting himself into mortal harm. He didn’t care what happened to him, as long as this man did not get into that car. The struggle most likely only lasted a few seconds, but as we have all experienced, such things seem to stretch out in our minds. At some point he heard the mom inside the station wagon begin to scream before wisely putting the car into drive and screeching out from under the gas station car port, coming to a stop at the other side of the parking lot. In the same moment, the would-be car jacker recognized that his quick getaway was gone, and now this man holding onto him needed to pay for the interruption.

With the car out of the way, Joe and the young man poured all of their attention into full possession of the gun. A few shots were fired into the air, more screams, and then the young man threw a well-placed knee into Joe’s side, knocking the wind out of him. Joe was never what you would call an athletic guy, nor large in stature. He knew he could not withstand a prolonged contest of strength, but he also knew he had surprise on his side and that he only needed to hold this guy off long enough for the mom to get away. Having accomplished that, Joe was now simply along for the ride, and it seemed that the ride was coming to a quick end.

The kick to his side was followed by another, which made Joe double over, giving the young man a split second to pull his gun hand down. They both twisted and fell to the ground in a heap. They began to roll until a muffled report when off, and Joe could no longer put up a fight. A burning pain erupted in his chest as he found that he was having trouble breathing.

The young man, realizing that his opponent was spent, jumped up and began to run away. He only made it about three steps since it would seem that while Joe had been putting up a fight, his courage had emboldened a nearby trucker to intervene with a tire iron. In all of the excitement, the robber hadn’t noticed another person stepping towards him. With one swing the young man was down and out cold.

Joe heard someone yell to call an ambulance as everything began to grow still and quiet. He turned his head to see a crying young woman holding a small child, a boy, it would seem, and she walked slowly towards him. His eyes focused on that small boy, who couldn’t have been more than two years old. The boy was smiling. Despite his mother’s tears, the gun shots, the screaming, the panic, he was simply smiling. Then, Joe understood why. Joe was smiling as well. Both of them, caught in this absurd crime opera, were smiling at one another.

That bright smile was the last thing Joe saw as the darkness took him.

Sometime later, Druthers found himself walking in a green field one warm spring day. He loved this time of year—so much new life. Ironic since the green field through which he was walking was a cemetery. He looked up and noticed a small group of people standing in front of one grave marker in particular. As he drew closer, he saw that it was a family, consisting of a young dad, his young wife, and two young children. Druther’s walked over to greet the young man.

“Nice day today, isn’t it?” Druthers asked.

“What’s that? Oh, why yes, it is,” the young dad agreed, before going back to explaining something to his children. It would seem that Druthers had interrupted a story.

“At least, that is how my mom explained it to me,” finished the young dad.

The dad then turned again to look at Druthers, pointing to the grave. “Did you know him?”

“Yes, yes I did. I like to come here every now and then to say hello,” answered Druthers. “How did you know him?”

The young man looked back thoughtfully, “Actually, I never met him. He died when I was very young. My mom told me about him, about what he did for us, while I was growing up, so I like to bring my children here to see him.”

“Did your mom know him?” asked Druthers.

“No, actually she didn’t either, not really. At least, they never formally met. But she always called him my own personal hero,” answered the young man.

Druthers nodded knowingly as they both went back to looking down at the tombstone. The young man’s children had obviously lost their patience and were beginning to wander away, so the young family said goodbye and began to walk back to their car. Druthers watched as they went and then turned his eyes back to the reason he had come.

“Did you live a good life?” Druthers said to himself. “I don’t know, but your death has certainly set that young man up for one, and I suppose that may be the best thing to having lived one yourself.”

Druthers then read the inscription out loud one last time before heading to his next appointment:

Joseph L. Curtis b. October 8,1933 d. November 17,1963

Then just one line was added:

“Joe Died a Good Death.”

#my writing #spilled ink #short story

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