She wakes up afraid. Somebody else might take her place in the mirror. Whatever she had done to the clock the day before obviously saved her life. Her eyes open to a clear world, and not desolate darkness. Michele was alive but she wanted to be more than alive. Michele wanted her life put together correctly. The room that held her looked nothing like the one she grew up in. The bullet shaped window that was always at the wall behind her head was gone, the only window seen was a circular one over at the dresser. Her bed was queen sized and fit for almost four people. This was neither her normal room or even her house, she had never been here before. The structure was totally off with peaks in the walls and a misplaced closet.
Michele gets up in her older body, she was undeniably in the future. Her head was higher up than when she was six, but also higher up than when she was twelve. There was no need to look far for the troublesome magic clock, because a calendar was hung near the door. According to it, she was all the way in 2015.
2015, she barely lived through the naughties. The hair on Michele's hair regained its fullness, she puts a hand to it. With one petting motion she sees two rings on one finger. Michele never liked rings and always stuck to necklaces and studded earnings. One of them was a gold band choking her finger, along with it was a crested diamond on a white ring so fine it was the width of a fingernail. She must have been at a point in her life when she gets married.
She takes handfuls of her hair and screams. She can't be married, she was just a preteen. It would have been a man she never got the chance to know. What if it was a woman? For all she knew she could have had children too. There will be people around she never met, talking to her about experiences she never shared. Like a terrible case of Dissociated Identity Disorder, at least previously she relived times she already were cognizant with and had a grasp on everything.
A man, presumingly her husband, came in. His eyebrows were nice and big. He had a well maintained set of raven scruff, with a collection of stubble shaped like a neat triangle under his plump bottom lip.
"Good morning." He kissed a frozen Michele. She had to force herself to say nothing but words fell out like foam.
"Who are you?" She felt stupid.
The man laughed an uncomfortable laugh. His tar black eyes squint in pleasure, with just as inky eyelashes fluttering. He was pretty but it felt wrong. In her mind she was a child married to a grown man.
Michele paws his chest and grumbles, "say your name, your voice sounds weird today."
He stared flummoxed, stunned in quiet thought as he sits on the bed. The man with the black eyes cleans his throat with a small cough. The tongue comes out halfway and twists towards the sky, he exercised it. He put words out of his mouth for her to hear. To satisfy his wife's solicit.
"Mohammad," he nonchalantly said. His voice flat with disbelief, the mention of the name stricken her dearly.
Michele pants under her breath, a thousand gasps broke her line of speech. She was astonished, and delighted at the same time. She leans in grinning ear to ear and throws her arms over his shoulders. The most secret pages of her diary foresighted the future, Mrs. Michele Deaton became a reality.
They did have children, two boys. Both sharing the tuft of shiny chocolate hair as their farther. One had the cute turned up nose he had as a child. It was the weekend and they were off from school; they came to Michele asking for her to take them to the movies to see Goosebumps. With complete happiness, she did. Not just because she wanted to become a more carefree and affable parent than her own mom, but because the child in her wanted to see a kids movie. There was no rush to turn back time to resign to the present, the cuckoo clock was in fact in her house. It rests within the lobby and in between two green couches. Her older self had taste, she muses. The home was customized to her liking even though it was too dignified.
Michele's whole world turned from a nightmare to an idylls with a few turns of a clock's knobs. She owned a home without the control of other adults. She did not have to go to school anymore. She was married to her childhood crush and had children with him. Tommy seemed to be expunged from earth forever.
Mohammad invites Tommy in, after the ring of the doorbell drove the Deaton family dog mad. A yapping yorkie terrier shuffled over his long locks that drafted behind him like a cape. Michele missed Babs; she was dreading seeing Tommy. She waited at the short steps of the hall that reach down to the front door. Her arms folded around her legs, a cold zephyr come in through it and iced her skin.
"Hey sis," the other man said. He gave her those Italian kisses with the cheeks touching. Tommy's voice wasn't the awful screeching of a six year old, it was a cool, low voice. His skin was still pasty and his lips were still rosy, but he looked like another person. It should be noted he was tenfold more enjoyable to be around. Michele spent time with him after the movies. He even drives her and her sons to the theater, she was too scared to drive herself. Mohammad talked to the ticket master and paid for everything. The best of both worlds; not controlled by adults but taken care of. A few moments were alien to her, there was a part of the day where Mohammad asks for a dance. He wanted to do a sensual waltz to their wedding song. She wishes him to clarify what it was because she "forgot". It was Time After Time, the Cindy Lauper song. Of course it is, she rolls her eyes with her inner snark.
Michele wanted to know everything, but asks her questions in the form of non suspicious daily linguistics. "What's the word?"
Tommy laughs like Mohammad had that morning. "Why do you talk like you're from the 90s? 'What's the word?'"
She grinds her teeth to ease her stress. Her brother tells her his news, he wasn't married but had a girlfriend. He asks for advice on how to be more romantic. Michele couldn't keep a straight face. Tommy said a lot of things about how he hates his job, wants to save up for Nike shoes, and wishes he had a house like she did.
Michele stretches on the lawn chair, fakes a sip of the vile beer he pours for her. She also fakes casualties as she says, "so where are mom and dad?"
He looks at her funny, with a frown. "Dad and mom?"
"Yes," Michele whispers. He was reluctant to answer which frightened her.
"Dad is home," Tommy slowly spoke, "mom is at Rejoicing"
Michele felt her throat tighten like a noose. "'Rejoicing'?"
"You know, that cemetery on Wilson road?"