I opened my eyes. I was sitting in a 1984 Nissan 300ZX 50th anniversary car, the exact one I had owned in 1986. My heart skipped a beat this was really happening! Just seeing my car again, reminded me just how much I had loved it, more than any other I’d ever owned but I haven’t even so much as thought about it in years. How can something that once meant so much to me, become something I can barely remember? I was parked at a small gas station just down the road from my old house. It was owned by a Laotian family. We all called the owner “Johnny”, though I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the name his mother had given him at birth but since he was ok with it and the gas station had no official name everybody called it “Johnny’s”.
His store sold everything from weed bowls, they were under the counter, you had to ask for those, and if Johnny didn’t know you he’d shake his head, “ Nothing like that here”, I could still hear him saying all the way to egg rolls homemade by his wife Susie, we didn’t know her real name either. I hadn’t seen “Johhny’s” in 17 years, I missed it. In 2014 it’s another cookie-cutter QT, like the other 4 within a 10 mile radius. I walked in and almost fell back out the door. There was Johnny, smiling, he’d seemed to always be smiling, you see his store was robbed on July 18th 1997 he’d been shot sometime after midnight.
The next customer wouldn’t arrive for over an hour, he was still alive, barely, but wouldn’t survive the ambulance ride. It wasn’t fair, I thought, the world lost a good man that day. And here I was a spoiled insecure miserable brat getting a second chance, a twinge of quilt gripped me, Johnny should be getting this chance not me and if I could have given it to him I would have. The two perps got scared after the shooting and ran away, they didn’t get a single dollar, not even a pack of cigarettes, Johnny had died for absolutely nothing. They both received life without parole, again for nothing. His wife sold the place three months later, four after that it was leveled, on July 4, 1998 the grand opening of QT. My walk thru 1986 just a few moments ago in my living room had been a heavy rain but seeing the car and Johnny again was a monsoon.
“How you?” Johnny asked. I was gripped by a desire to tell him that his family was going to be ok, because I’m sure that while he lay there dying, he thought about his wife and kids and what would happen to them when he was gone. I’d run into Suzy several years after Johnny’s death, she was remarried and both kids were in college doing well, as well as could be expected. Instead I decided not to tempt fate, “Well and yourself?’
“Good. Good.”
I smiled again it was the way he always answered the question. I walked over to the newspaper stand I needed to confirm the date and short of asking Johnny, “What’s the date? “June 12th” Johnny would answer.
“No, I mean what year is it?” Like some bad Terminator movie. There it was: a Charlotte Observer dated June 12, 1986, Rafe had hit a bulls eye. I immediately recognized the picture on the cover, the explosion cloud from the Challenger disaster. The headline: Challenger Investigation Committee Named. Below that picture the headline: Russia Denies Chernobyl Fallout in Ukraine. Wow, Challenger and Chernobyl, I had forgotten what a bad start 1986 was off too. I grabbed the paper and dropped a quarter on the counter. The image of the two men shooting Johnny chased away the smile I was wearing.
“You look familiar.” He said.
“I get that a lot. And don’t worry Johnny no matter what happens everything is going to be ok.” I was shamed by my feeble attempt at consoling him. I hoped it helped, somehow.
”Good luck Johnny.” I headed out the door knowing luck wasn’t going to have anything to do with it. I stepped into the arms of a beautiful day, popped out the T-tops, jumped in my car and headed towards my old house, which was less than 3 miles away. I turned the radio on, “And the first single off their debut album, its Poison’s Look What the Cat Dragged In.” Just an hour ago this would have only been playing on a classic rock station now it’s brand new.
I was on my way into the neighborhood I’d grown up in when I almost ran off the road. They’re jogging towards me, my dad. He’d loved to run since my earliest memories; he’d even finished several marathons. You see it’s the first time I’ve seen him in 13 years, two days before the murder-suicide. But here, he was as I had spent the last 13 years trying to remember him, young, alive and doing what he loved most.
I was gripped by the urge to stop, jump out of my car and ask him why it ended the way it did. But even though he’d destroyed everything there was still a small but powerful part of me that also wanted to run to him, hug him and tell him how much I loved and missed him. But I knew if I did that then both our demises would come at the hands of a bullet. His destiny was sealed. I still had a chance. I settled for driving by him several times.
I then headed towards my old house. At this point in time our house was brand-new, we had moved in only three months earlier. I slowly drove by my house, another rush of memories poured over me; I was starting to like the feeling. And there walking to her car, another face I hadn’t seen in 13 years, my mom’s. I stopped, our eyes meet for but a brief moment but I’m sure she recognized me. I think a mother always knows her child even one she’s never met. The urge to jump out of my car and run to her and hug her gripped me even tighter than it had with dad. I wanted to warn her, “Dad loses everything in a pyramid scheme run by his supposed best friend, Tom, in 2000. On August 7 of that year he takes you out for what will be your last supper, shortly after you get home, he shots you.”
Her body was found beside their bed a single bullet wound to the back of her head. Dad then went to the kitchen made a Jack and Coke, sat down at the kitchen table , drank it, then dialed 911.
“911 what’s your emergency?” Then pulled the trigger. I guess it’s true, like father like son. I know all this from a combination of the police and autopsy report, it was no easy read. Instead as I had with my father I just drove off, who would have guessed, self-preservation from a man who 24 hours ago had a gun in his mouth.
“And now for the new Van Halen,” no one had yet coined the term Van Hagar, “…off of 5150, Why Can’t This Be Love.”
I had always loved this song; I cranked it up and tried to focus on the here and now not the dark events of the future. On the way out I passed dad again and then watch him slowly disappear in my rearview mirror, “I love and miss you dad” I whispered. A tear ran down my cheek, knowing it was the last time I would see my parents, in this world anyway.
I checked into the Rock Hill Inn. I needed a base of operation and at $22 a night, I love these time adjusted prices, it was perfect. I turned on the TV, the hotel sign had proclaimed 26 channels of cable. It made me smile; my deluxe package in 2014 has 336 channels. I pulled the envelope out of the inside pocket of my Member’s Only jacket and opened it.
Friday, June 13
8:15 PM
The Money.
I sat the letter and envelope on the bed. The Money, wow yet another lost memory. I know, I know it’s just a bar but I had gone there damn near every Friday night for as long as I could remember, it was the only bar my fake ID worked. Not that it was a pivotal place in my life, but to have totally forgotten about it angered me. It’s like the bad memories of life push out the good ones, or maybe we only have room for so many and all the recent ones have been bad.
So tomorrow 8:15 PM, D-day. And even though I had a good idea of what I was going to say to me doubts and new ideas kept tunneling their way in. I hoped watching some TV would take my mind off tomorrow if only for a moment. The Sally Jessy Raphael show was on, Sally was talking to a group of out of control teens, I smiled. When Rafe had first appeared to me I was watching a Maury episode on a very similar subject. I guess the past wasn’t perfect as we like to believe it is. Sally was followed by Donahue. Is he still alive? I wondered. In my time I mean. The excitement of the day combined with my lack of sleep from the prior night caught up to me. Just as Phil was introducing his first guest, a white supremacist from Mississippi, I fell asleep.
I woke up at 7:30, dazed and confused. It’s been a long time since I’d woken up in a hotel room.
“Dammit Mark.” I said to the empty room.
I had just wasted 3 hours of 1986 not to mention I was starving. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, I believe it was breakfast a few hours before Rafe appeared. I’d gone to Shoney’s all you can eat breakfast buffet, why not I thought at the time, it was supposed to be my last meal and though quite the breakfast it had digested long ago. So, room service followed by going to bed early to get ready for tomorrow? Are you kidding? I was in Rock Hill South Carolina on a Thursday night less than two weeks after the end of school and the start of summer of 1986. It was time to buy a 12 pack of beer cruise Cherry road with Motley Crue and Poison blaring from the speakers, and try to pick up a 16-year-old nubile high school girl not yet even a sophomore. I smiled, the 1986 me would have already had the beer, cruising Cherry Road, the 2014 me knew the last thing I needed was a DUI and a night in jail. Who would I call to bail me out? Mom and dad? Yeah I can imagine that conversation:
“Hey mom it’s your only child Zack…”and knowing my luck she would be standing in the kitchen looking at the 1986 me sitting at the kitchen table, ” …no, not the 1986 Zack mom, I’m the 2014 Zack and I’m in a little bit of trouble. Could you bail me out so I can meet myself tomorrow? Because you see mom in 2014 I’m about to blow my brains out when a guy walks in and… Hello… Hello?” So the cruising part would have to suffice and as Rafe had so eloquently put it, “Enjoy 1986 one more time for the last time.” That’s exactly what I was going to do.
If you could have ordered a perfect summer night this is what you would have asked for. I didn’t even put the T-tops back in. It was the best I’d felt in a long, long time, a sense that life had just begun and was so full of promise and potential and in 1986 it had been. I thought about how different things are in 2014, how close I was to ending it all. Who knows maybe you did and this is just some weird after death shit, I thought. “And here’s a classic from a couple years back, crank it up and enjoy your summer’ Twisted Sisters Not Going to Take It”. I did as told, took a deep breath of 1986 air and drove into the night. If this was death, I thought, I should have done it a long time ago.
My stomachs growling reminded me of the initial intentions of this journey, food. I passed the Shrimp Shack, the place burned down 13 years earlier, well I guess 16 years from now would be more accurate. I wondered if it would be considered a 2014 footprint if I ran into the lobby screaming “On May 13th 1998 it’s going to burn, all of it, burn to the ground” then just causally walk out. Instead I kept driving. I past Village Pizza, I had once worked there as a delivery driver, I quit after three weeks but great pizza. A half mile later, Sam’s Bar B Q, I had eaten there a 1000 times it was my dad’s favorite restaurant and great Bar B Q but I kept driving. Two more miles and my patience was rewarded, a Steak and Ale. I hadn’t eaten in one since 1991 when this very one closed; in 2014 they’re totally extinct. I pulled in and had the best steak of my life.
It was 8:30 when I climbed back on Cherry Road for my second run. While stopped at a red light; a Mustang appeared to my right, two boys in the front two girls in the back. They were all staring; this was quite the car in 1986. The Mustang’s driver tapped his dash, local sign language for a drag race challenge. As I waited for the light to turn my mind jumped from do it, my 1986 self to don’t do it, my 2014 self. I glanced over again; they were all smiles, their whole futures in front of them. I wondered if any of their life’s journeys would end as mine almost had and still might, with a gun in their mouth. The light turned green, I floored it and won by a car length. It felt good; I miss that 1986 part of me that would take chances. I realized that part of me had died somewhere along my life’s journey, whether it was my parent’s death or just natural causes, I don’t know but I now see that his death has led to my current situation. In 2014 I look back and see only bad, in 1986 I looked forward and saw only good. Seeing the car loads and parking lots of teenagers, so full of hope and promise, reminded me that hope and promise had once existed for me as well and I now know it still does it’s, I have just quit looking.
I decided to climb off Cherry road and cruise the rest of Rock Hill. I soon passed The Cinema multiplex, yeah in 1986 two theaters was considered a multiplex , it had closed in 96 but tonight she was alive and well. The marquee read:
Now Showing
Cinema 1 Ferris Buellers Day Off
11:15 1:45 3:45 7:15
Cinema 2 Top Gun
Tom Cruise
12:05 2:20 5:15 8:45
Tomorrow: World Premier
Back to School
Rodney Dangerfield
You’ve got to be kidding me, I‘d missed all 3 of them while they were playing in the theater. I decided then and there over the next two days I was going to remedy those mistakes. No better time than the present to get started, I pulled into the parking lot.
While standing in line for my popcorn I started looking at the coming soon posters: one in particular caught my eye and created another cascade of memories that flooded my brain like dopamine after your first line of cocaine: Labyrinth. Not only was it one of my favorite movies but I’d seen it in this very theater on opening night. I smiled: 14 days from now the 1986 me would be in this very line that I am now standing in. Or maybe my course will have been so altered by tomorrow’s meeting that I don’t even come to see Labyrinth, or as I fear I will be standing here continuing my unabated march to ruin. For the moment I could only pray it was the latter and not the former, tomorrow however I would do more than pray. The coming soon poster most prominently displayed: Howard the Duck. There was a young couple standing behind me, their body language and conversation, screamed first date.
“I can’t wait to see Howard the Duck.” The guy said.
“Don’t waste your money.” I couldn’t help it I truly wanting to keep this guy from wasting his $3.25.
“I heard it’s goin to be good.” He responded. I couldn’t help myself.
“Trust me in the future it will appear on every “Top 10 worst movies of all-time” list. Not to mention I’ve seen it and it sucks.”
“How could you have seen it? Are you some kind of Hollywood producer or something?” He sarcastically asked.
“No, I’m from the future.” His confused look was worth the risk.
“What can I get you sir?” We were gratefully interrupted by the concession stand attendant. I turned and my heart sank. It was Kevin Johnson, we had gone to the same school from sixth grade until graduation, and though not best friends we weren’t strangers either. I remembered reading he’d been killed while employed by the local power company. That had happened on June 13 of 2013, I remembered the day because it’s also my mom’s birthday. He was working on an elementary school’s backup generator in Charlotte one night, while there were no kids around. He was overcome by carbon monoxide fumes and died.
“Large popcorn, large coke and a snicker doodle bar.” I barely managed. I recalled reading he had three kids, two sons and a three-month-old daughter when he passed. Last I heard his wife wasn’t handling the loss well.
“That’ll be $4.50.” Kevin said. I smiled again “Is there something wrong Sir?”
“No.” I replied, “It’s just these prices.”
“Yeah it’s expensive” he whispered as if trying to keep his manager from hearing.
“No I mean where I come from the drink alone would be six dollars.”
“Where are you from, New York City?”
“Something like that.” I answered. The thought crossed my mind to just write a note and slip it to him, tell him not to open it until May of 2013, but like Rafe said who would believe me? So even though I knew the exact day of his death I just walked away saying nothing. It never occurred to me the power you possess when you know the future. I had always imagined myself betting on every major sporting event until I was a rich man, I now realize bad shit comes with it to. This was the fourth person in less than 6 hours, I had come across that was not only going to die prematurely but I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. It was knowledge I didn’t like possessing, like a poison I needed to spit out.
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off took my mind off such serious topics, it was great. I left that theater and snuck into the one showing Top Gun. I climbed in my car, the clock read 12:45 AM, T minus19 and half hours. It was still warm enough to leave the T- tops out. The weather report had called for tomorrow to be carbon copy of today, unseasonably cool and dry. I smiled turned right onto Oakland and headed for one last cruise on Cherry. I wasn’t sure if it would be my last chance so I was going to grasp the few remaining hours with both hands. I ended up making two more passes, at this time of night only the hard core cruisers were left. I also decided to ride back by my house one last time. I know what you’re thinking one time was enough but it wasn’t.
My parents are alive and well here, in less than 24 hours I will return to a world devoid of them and remain in that world until I die, whether that’s tomorrow or as I pray 40 years from now. I think only those who have lost their parents can understand. And even though I had thought about warning them about the future, but this day has taught me it’s don’t worry about tomorrow just embrace today because that all we ever really have. Now I would just knock on the door, tell them how much I love them, hug them both, then leave without trying to warn them about the future, theirs or mine. Just walk away. I wondered if that would still be considered a 2014 footprint? I didn’t take any chances, I settled for stopping at the top of the driveway, took it all in one last time and drove off.
“And now from the request lines…” Wow it’s been a long time since I heard that. Now its Facebook post and tweets but the request line. I thought. “…Berlin’s brand-new song from the blockbuster Top Gun, Take My Breath Away.”
The DJ said. My heart felt a twinge of regret. It reminded me off my high school girlfriend, Leslie Anderson, it was our song. She was one of two girls I ever loved. She’d move to Florida in August of 86 and though we swore to continue our relationship, youth and distance proved a fatal combination to young love. We lasted all of four months, well I lasted would be more accurate. But I had often thought about her and wondered if my life would’ve been different if we had stayed together. I tried a Google and Facebook search for her but nothing. Her house wasn’t far so what the hell, why not add another stop on the “Reminiscing Tour of 1986”?
I had trouble finding her neighborhood. I know it was my first time back in 28 years. But to have gone from something I could have once done blindfolded to barely finding it. As I turned down the street to her neighborhood I was reminded of the “Guard Shack”. It was a small building that you had to stop, sign in and tell the guard who you were there to see. The guard would then call said person confirming it was okay for you to enter. And since in all likely hood Leslie wouldn’t allow the 2014 Zack in, I was just going to tell the guard I’d made a wrong turn and leave.
“Zack?” His question caught me by surprise, how the hell does he know my name? “Is that… what happened?” His face seemed almost familiar. I glanced at his name tag, Al, another flood of memories, at this pace I was going to need to build an ark. I had not only lost track of Leslie, I had completely lost the memory of Al. I’d been here 100 times in the past six months visiting Leslie, well the 1986 me, but here sits the 2014 me in the same car, and there weren’t many of these in all of South Carolina. Al and I had always gotten along, in 1986 I mean, even after he’d gotten to know me well enough to just wave me through, I’d always stop to ask how he was, and now I was being given a chance after 28 years to ask again, I couldn’t resist.
“Al how have you been?” When I get back to 2014 short of killing myself, I was going to try find him.
“Fine… I think, sorry sir you just look a lot like… like someone I know.”
“I just made a wrong turn.” I said.
“But…” he tried to interrupt.
“So I’ll get back on my way goodbye and good luck.” Hope I see you in 2014 I thought of adding but didn’t.
“You even sound like him.” He was still wearing a confused look when he disappeared from my rearview mirror. I headed towards my hotel room. “Phil Collins will take us into the night…” the DJ announced, “…with In the Air Tonight” I cranked it up and put it on the floorboard, the way the turbo kicked in 3 gear, yet another lost memory gratefully returned by 1986. Even if I did get a speeding ticket short of court being tomorrow I’d be a failure to appear. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for all my life; I can feel it in the air tonight.” Phil sang to the night. He was right I had been waiting my whole life for a chance to change things. It was true for any and all of us that had for some known or unknown reason fallen “short” in life and what we wouldn’t give for that second chance.
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