LESSONS LEARNED

A/N: I do not own Back To the Future or the characters. They are solely the property of Paramount Pictures, Robert Zemeckis, Bob Gale and Steven Spielberg.

"Till I die, I will not remove mine integrity from me."
—JOB 27:5

"When you see the right thing to do, you better do it."
—PAUL NEWMAN
1925 – 2008

It was already dark by the time I sat down by the campfire, which was just starting to die down. The breeze, although soft and gentle, chilled me to the bone. Shivering, I poured myself a cup of hot chocolate from the black stainless steel thermos I'd brought with me and wrapped myself up in my plaid wool blanket as tightly as I possibly could. My girlfriend Jennifer—who was sound asleep in the back of my beloved pick-up truck—and I were virtually alone at our campsite. We'd been planning this trip to the lake for the last two weeks, and come hell or high water, we were going to take it. And now, here we were, just the two of us. What more could a guy ask for?
To be perfectly honest with you, I never thought we'd even be here. Just yesterday (in 1985, that is), I'd come home from school to find a tow truck hauling away Dad's car. It was completely trashed, thanks to Biff, who had the nerve to assume that Dad's insurance would pay for the damage he'd caused, not to mention making up this bullshit story about the car having a so-called blind spot. Then, to top it all off, he also made Dad finish the reports that he knew damn well he was supposed to deal with. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to punch that blowhard's face in and throw him out on his ass. But first, I would've dumped a whole case of beer on his head to go with what he'd already spilled on that butt-ugly jacket of his.
In some weird, messed-up way, sneaking out in the middle of the night to help Doc with his time-travel experiment was the best thing that ever happened to me. Granted, I was well aware that, in 1955, warning him about being gunned down by the Libyans in the mall parking lot was risky, and Doc always said you shouldn't know too much about your own destiny, but I didn't have a choice.
That's why it shocked the holy hell out of me when, 30 years later, he'd showed me the bulletproof vest he was wearing and the letter I'd written him. In retrospect, I guess that's what made me buy that sports almanac in 2015. After hearing that guy telling me he wished he could've gone back to the beginning of baseball season and bet on the Cubs winning the World Series, all I could think about was making a shit-ton of money. Not once did Doc's warnings about permanently screwing up the space-time continuum go through my head. No, I was too busy seeing dollar signs. And when Doc came to pick me up after collecting Einstein from the suspended-animation kennel, I made damn sure he didn't see me slip that book into the glove compartment. Otherwise, he would've chewed me out big-time.
I realize now that I was an idiot. If I could do it over again, I never would've bought that almanac in the first place. I know I should've ignored it when I first saw it in the store window, but the thought of betting on the Cubs' victory before it actually happened, not to mention visions of endless cash, wouldn't let me stop everything right then and there and think clearly. That's how wrapped up I was in my own selfish ambitions.
If there was any moment in my life in which I deserved an ass-kicking, that was the one.
As we followed that cop car to Hilldale to find Jennifer and get back to 1985, I remembered when Doc first told me that anything I did in the past could have serious repercussions on future events. And he was right: when I pushed Dad out of the way of getting hit by that car, I'd accidentally prevented him from meeting Mom, and thereby almost erased my own existence. Thank God he kissed her on the dance floor, and it also helped that he'd finally put Biff in his place. Sure, things were a helluva lot different than before I went back in time, and it was for the better, so what was the problem?
When Doc and Einstein went to look for Jennifer, only then did I fully grasp what I was thinking about doing; and most importantly, what he was trying to get me to understand. And that's when it hit me: going through with my plan to make all that money by betting on the winners in that book could've come back to bite me in the ass. Not only was it dishonest and morally reprehensible, but somebody from the government could've gotten wind of what I was doing, and after enough nosing around, I would've gotten nailed for God knows how many counts of fraud, gambling, racketeering, embezzlement, you name it. Furthermore, it would've reflected horribly on my family, especially Dad. He never came right out and said it, but I'd always suspected that he and Mom knew that I was the guy who'd gotten them together in 1955, and helped him stand up to Biff. After all I'd done for him, this would've broken his heart. And now that he was a well-respected and successful author, that's the last thing in the world he would've wanted to deal with. Worst of all, if Jennifer ever found out, she too would've lost all respect for me.
Now, sitting by the campfire, I knew what I had to do.
I set my cup down and retrieved the almanac from my open knapsack, which was sitting on the ground beside me. I wasn't about to have Jennifer wake up and see what was going on. Fortunately, she's a very heavy sleeper.
Getting to my feet, I removed the rubber band from around the almanac, unrolled it, and tossed them both into the fire, along with the bag it came in and the receipt. As I watched them burn to ashes, I felt like a huge weight was being lifted off my shoulders. All my life, I wanted to be somebody, but this was not how I wanted to achieve that goal. I wanted to do it the right way, to be the kind of person everybody liked, respected, and looked up to. And if, in the long run, I wasn't a rich and famous rock star, then so be it.
In that moment, I knew that somewhere down the road, whatever happened, we'd be okay.

THE END