Page 16 of Only Time Will Tell

“Thank you. Did your son move away?” I asked as I washed my hands.

He cleared his throat. His eyes glistened with unshed tears and I immediately regretted asking. “No. He was lost at sea. Always wanted to be a fisherman like his grandfather. Went out one night with his shipmates and a bad storm rolled in and caught them off guard. John, my son, and another fella fell overboard. Their bodies were never recovered.” He stilled, clearly reliving the painful memory. “That was three years ago. My old man would have been proud of him and is probably turning in his grave knowing his only son became nothing more than a baker.” He wiped his hands on his apron. “Some of my happiest childhood memories are of the times I helped my mom in the kitchen. Kinda stuck with me, I reckon.”

Two painful memories my question brought forth. A father’s broken heart over the loss of his son and a son’s sense of self-worth over choosing a path his own father never wanted for him. My heart went out to Thomas. Alex and I had been lucky in that aspect, always having our family’s guidance and support. God, how I missed him.

Thomas placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Sorry, Charlie. I didn’t mean to bring you down with my story. I hope the clothes fit. Call it a day after you’re done sweeping,” he said, as he walked toward the front.

I finished up, then headed upstairs, in desperate need of clean clothes. Thankfully, they fit far better than the ones I’d permanently borrowed. Thomas’s wife must have sent over food, as well, because I found a bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich waiting on the counter for me. As soon as I’d finished eating, it was back to the streets again in search of Alex.

This night, I chose the south side of town. It was a working-class, blue-collar residential area with rows of houses and a couple of markets. I was bound and determined to find him, no matter how many shoe soles I wore out in the process. I didn’t dare question the fact he may not have landed in Seattle, in this era, for fear that would do me in. Hope was all I had and hope was what I’d follow.

Sure, I could cut and run, take myself back to our life. But it wouldn’t be our life anymore if I did that because everything as I’d known it to be would’ve changed. Going back in time and making any adjustments was not advised, according to my father’s notes. Yet I still had no idea why he’d chosen to time travel as much as he had.

I chose to be with Alex, he was my heart and soul, and without him by my side, I was nothing but an empty shell. Our story can’t be over yet, it’d only just begun. I’d thought nonstop about his proposal since I got here and my selfish response to something that meant so much to him was a jackass move, and one I’d remedy as soon as I found him.

What was my problem anyway? Why couldn’t I grant him that one request when he rarely asked anything of me? Alex always put me and my needs first and himself second. He protected me. When my father died, he went above and beyond, and never once complained. All he need to do once we get home is name the time and place, and I’d proudly wear his ring. Forever.

Combing the south side after dinner hours was worthless. Not a soul was on the street as everyone was home for the night. My poor Alex must be so lost.

This was all my fault.

All my goddamned fault!

And I’ll never forgive myself for this.

Chapter Five

Alex

For as long as I could remember, something had always felt off, like, I didn’t belong here, in this life. I couldn’t quite put a finger on why I felt that way, but I did. Long days were spent working at my father’s hardware store, constantly getting yelled at for not knowing about all the items he carried, and he clearly expected me to know everything. This life wasn’t for me though I know he expected me to take over the store someday.

I was stuck with a girl that at some point I must’ve asked to marry me or she assumed I had. Who knows. Now she was planning a wedding I wanted nothing more than to run away from. This life was not for me and marrying someone I didn’t love literally made me sick. But if I left, where would I go?

“Alexander?” my father briskly called out as he knocked on my bedroom door. “Get up. It’s time to get to work.”

“Yes, Father, I’m up,” I hollered back as I dressed.

“Good, meet me in the kitchen. Your mother has breakfast ready and we have a delivery due shortly at the store, so we need to hurry.” His heavy footsteps descended the stairs and I groaned.

This was so maddening—it didn’t feel like my life. It was as though I was living in someone else’s head and as far as I was concerned, they could have this hellish nightmare back. I had to find a way out of here. Out of this and definitely out of an engagement I wanted no part of. Dear God, if I married that overbearing woman, I’d surely hang myself. I didn’t care that her father was the bank president or how big their house was. None of it meant anything to me.

I sat at the dining table as my mother placed a plate loaded with scrambled eggs and bacon in front of me. “Good morning,” she said, kissing the top of my head. She was definitely the more nurturing of my parents. My father didn’t teach, he commanded and expected you to already know everything. Mother was gentle and kind, patient, the kind of person I longed to have as a spouse.

“Good morning, Mother. If you would’ve woken me earlier, I could’ve come down and helped you prepare breakfast,” I told her, taking a bite of the eggs. She was a wonderful cook and even a meal as simple as this was a gift to your palate.

“Nonsense, Alexander,” my father said. “A woman’s place is in the kitchen, not a man’s.”

That comment was unnecessary, and my mother was far more than a servant to us. She worked hard. Always up before everyone else, washing the laundry, cooking the meals, cleaning the house, gathering the eggs from the chickens. Who did this man think he was taking all of that for granted? My face heated as the rage built inside.

“You need a haircut, Alexander,” my father barked, snapping me from my internal tirade. I didn’t dare say it aloud, having been on the receiving end of his backhand more than once. “Go see Norman the barber on your break today.”

“Yes, Father,” I replied, through gritted teeth.

“Don’t give me attitude, boy. I’m your father and you will treat me with the respect I deserve. I don’t know how that woman ever agreed to marry your ungrateful ass.” He stood. “Hurry up, we need to go.” He grabbed his coat and walked outside.

“Alexander, what’s bothering you?” my mother asked, taking the seat beside me.

I dropped my fork, the loud clang against the China startled her. “Do you ever feel you’re living a life that isn’t yours?”