Today’s portion of the story is a bit slow-moving. You have to watch some paint dry before the real action occurs. This is, as we say in the biz (the unemployed writer’s biz) the calm before the storm, and by “storm” I mean “disaster… sweet, hilarious disaster!” Yesterday actually set a record number of visitors here, something like 130 folks. Pretty impressive. Petty impish ressiver!
***
Winter came, and with it arrived mounds of snow, bitter winds and hours of labor at a nearby government facility. Doctor Herman Hymen remained determined, and kept a keen eye on those allowed to partake in the construction of his time machine. He refused to set an exact date for completion of the prototype, but he was hoping that with the new season fast approaching, they would be ready to call in the first wave of human test subjects. Letters from all over the world poured into his office and the landscape inside began to reflect the snowy tundra outside the science building. He didn’t bother reading the contents of any letters, and eventually stopped using his office and just met with his students around campus. The sight of a new mailbag each day sickened him. His selection process was to take the first notes that came in. Those were probably the most depraved loons, anyway. Despite his unyielding loyalty to the machine, he still found time to shape young minds. Having dinner with his wife, on the other hand, was a more frustrating commitment to keep. If he arrived home late, or not at all, he would simply say that he had lost track of time.
Lenore began to remain at a distance when it came to work related discussion. It wasn’t that she was disinterested, but she felt twinges of embarrassment due to a lack of understanding. In the past it never seemed so serious, and Herman had more time to elaborate on what was his scholastic life. When they met, Lenore was just out of school and Herman was starting his first teaching job. She recalled how once he forced his way into her life there was no going back. She instantly fell in love with his cobalt blue eyes, and his promises. After nearly forty years of marriage and relocations, his eyes and his promises had faded. And now there was just work and sleep. Lenore felt ashamed, resentful. She married a college professor, he should have had plenty of free time to devote to her. Sadly this was not the case. Now she felt like nothing more than a food source and the subject of Herman’s continually unwanted sexual advances. How could she will herself to have sex with him when she felt he was unable to recognize her existence outside of a demand he needed her to meet? She longed for this frenzy to end. After feigning interest day in and day out, malaise had set in and she no longer cared to hear Herman talk down to her in those few passing moments they shared together each day. He’d never even invited her to visit the facility and see him hard at work. Simply put, she had become jaded by years of blind optimism.
There was some hope, that maybe once the machine was operational Herman would have some money the pair could use to enliven their marriage. This lone dream was what kept her from going out for groceries one day only to never return home. Then again, the damned machine might not work. She would face scorn when she showed her face in public. Worst of all, Herman would most likely keep at it, letting it further consume his time. Time. Such a funny little word. When Lenore went to sleep at night, she thought about the choices she made in the past. What if she’d done the opposite? What would she do if time could be slowed to a halt and reversed? Time travel. What a foolish notion. Lenore slept, and dreamt.
One morning, she awoke to storm drains overflowing with melting snow. Streams of water spilled over the sides and rained down, clearing patches of loose snow that had begun to melt. Trees and foliage with tiny green buds lined the long driveway leading to the home of the Hymens. Spring.
It was early and Herman had not come home the night before. Lenore was accustomed to the occasional night alone. In what was probably the final days of construction, the scientist had resigned himself to the large room where the materials were being pieced together. Now, on this new morning, Lenore rose from slumber and fixed a pot of coffee. She showered and dressed. She sat at the kitchen table sipping from a red mug and browsing the morning paper. Then she heard the sound of car tires against pavement. She looked up and spied Herman’s Saab coming down the drive.
She did not meet him at the door. When she heard the creak of its hinges and Herman’s cries of, “Lenore! Lenore?” she remained still. He entered the kitchen and approached her. He sank to his knees and said, “I’ve finished, Lenore. We’re ready for the first human trials. The rats seem to be responding well. The ones that we didn’t have mishaps with, at least.”
“That’s wonderful, Herman. Rats.” Her eyes never left the article she was reading. “Some creatures, huh?”
“Oh Lenore, I know I have been distant. I am so sorry. You have every right to despise me. There are no words to describe how disappointed I am with myself.”
“Sometimes…” she began, “I wonder what exactly I got myself into all those years ago.”
“You have every right too,” he clasped onto her hand. “There have been wrongs that I simply cannot right. I love you, Lenore, even if I haven’t worn my feelings on my sleeve. And worst of all, I have disregarded all the promises I have made over this past thirty-seven years. I still remember the very first one, do you recall what it was Lenore?”
“There have been lots of promises.”
“It was just our third date, and I promised that on our next evening out, we could eat somewhere where the food would actually be brought to us. Oh Lenore, I had just been hired as an Associate Professor back then, but you see, I had ambition. I wanted to make that promise stand.” He looked up towards her and the sun outside caught his eyes like a prism. “You know, in my field, there is an eternal search for truth. You Lenore, are my one truth. Whether or not this machine works–and it will work, I mean, rats Lenore! I sent a rat five seconds into the past this morning– whether or not this machine works, I still want you to be the most important, constant… thing… in my life.”
“Okay…”
“I know things weren’t going well even before my fame arrived. This machine has torn us even further apart. But you’re still here. And I’m still here. It can’t be that bad, can it?”
Lenore looked over from her paper and smiled. She wiped at her runny nose and glassy eyes with her free hand before asking, “Can you get up off the floor? I just ironed those pants a few nights ago.”
“Yes. Right. Right away.” He lunged for a chair across the small kitchen table from her, never letting go of her frail fingers. She sighed.
“So, what is next?”
“Well, we’ve finished, I’m pretty sure. We’re ready for the first human trials. I want you to be there with me Lenore, at the very moment we send the first subject back or forward, I want you there by my side. You and I, us, together… changing history.”
“I will be there.” She smiled and kissed his hand. “So, who’s first?”
“Richard Wurtz.”
***
to be concluded…
