7. Fathom out

My phone keeps vibrating in my pocket, it's driving me crazy. Susan tries to call me endlessly and has left at least 100 texts. I don't feel like talking anymore. I understand Susan is concerned. After my last trip to the lake, my life is just as messed up as before. But this is what I need to do, and I won't let concern hold me back. Admittedly, spending days in the local library browsing through an abundant amount of time travel books and forgetting to eat properly may not be very healthy. But everyone should be happy that I'm regularly going out again. Apart from my hikes to the lake, I hardly ever left home.

Before time-travelling, when I was still constantly at home, Susan, especially, often stopped by. Not a day went by without her coming over with food, a book about mourning, or fresh flowers to brighten up my house. I think she still comes by often, because when I come home from the library, there is almost always something from her on my doorstep. I appreciate her concerns but it doesn’t help me. Too much happened between us to always find comfort in her. She is still my best friend, but also my ex. And I don’t think she’s at peace with us being romantically over, that I’ve found another love … had found …

I lean back on the hard, wooden chairs of the library. My eyes tingle from the constant reading of fine print in dusty books. Surely there must be something to be found somewhere about why time travel is really possible, and how it works when you try to change something in the past. So many writers have written about time travel, so many philosophers have contemplated it, even scientists have looked into it. There must be at least a grain of truth in it, right? I also run into all kinds of conspiracy theories in my research: that the Twin Towers fell by the FBI, that JFK was killed by his own security, that Princess Di was trapped by the royal family, that the earth is actually flat. Have I now become someone who also sees some credibility in that? I close another book that again brings nothing new. The dust swirls from the slamming and makes me sneeze.

I keep wondering if I’m really not crazy. Was Tim right that this all might be a post-traumatic hallucination or something? This doubt about the physical reality is not who I am. I’m scientifically trained, I should know the difference between what can be proven and what just isn’t possible. If time travel and changing time is possible, why has no one from the future come to demonstrate it? Why hasn’t my future-self already come up to me to encourage me? I get stuck in that thought, for if I could really travel in time and have control over changes, why would I be still lonely in a library, instead of lying in the arms of my beloved? Or did I fail, did some sort of butterfly effect destroy everything I tried to change? Or is that yet to happen, is that my doom? Ugh, I gotta stop, I’m driving myself crazy!

Someone puts their hand on my shoulder and I jump in shock.

"Wow, don't be shocked, it's just me," Tim says, almost equally startled. Except for us, there's no one in this part of the library.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Tim.

“Ha, I often wonder the same about you," he says with a wink, "If I want to see you these days, I can only find you here and for some reason your phone is off?" Oh, apparently I turned off my phone without noticing, I thought it was too quiet. I shrug, I don't really know what to say.

“What did you find out in your research?” I didn't expect that sincere question from Tim.

I start to talk about the issues I run into. All kinds of interesting theories about what can be found about time travel, but also about how hard it is to prove. How I now mainly focus my attention on theories about how time can change and what the consequences of this could be. It doesn’t cease to amaze me that Tim continues to listen attentively and sometimes even nods.

“It seems most likely to me that there are folds in time, so that past and future of the same timeline sort of come to lie next to each other. A wormhole can form a bridge between the different folded times. To travel over this bridge, is travelling in time. But since it’s still the same timeline, any changes I make in the past will shape a new future. That's why you didn't know any better or I had a scar on my arm. There is even a possibility that every change in the past one makes by time travelling, creates a parallel dimension in which the original version remains,” I rattle on, wondering if anyone else can still follow it.

“Hmm, it sounds good, although I don't really understand it,” says Tim thoughtfully, “But I am impressed with all your work.”

“I don't have any real evidence. And I'm afraid I won't be able to find it either.”

“Hmm, so changing something couldn't be proof, because then what's new to you as a time traveller has always been like that to me in the present.” I notice a change in how Tim talks about time travel and start to have hope.

“Yes, that's the problem. And with me, many have tried, but no one has gone beyond theories,” I sigh.

“But what if you leave a message in the past as proof?” Tim asks. I look at him, so simple and I couldn't figure it out.

“That's actually a pretty good idea,” I confirm, “It's just so hard to change anything in the past. And it is not possible to take anything with me on my travel in time.”

Tim starts to laugh, "Oh dear, I gave you an idea and you are going to try it now."

“Yup.”

***

And indeed not many days later I am back on the bench by the lake. Could there really be a wormhole here? Winter is past its peak, and temperatures have become much more bearable. This time I take more time to travel exactly to a point where I want to be. Several attempts failed, I couldn't get the right images of it. Apparently it doesn't work if those moments have little meaning for me. I didn't plan to travel to such a heavily loaded moment, but it's the easiest way. Hopefully I'll get the chance to do something else there too. The rainbow colours are already coming.

The Past

"Are you really going to tell her?” asks Tim. We face each other at his house and there is an uneasy tension between us.

“Nothing happened between us, why risk your relationship with Susan for that?" he continues. His words stab in my heart. Did it really mean nothing to him? I'm having so much trouble with the mixed signals that he's giving me. I need to know before I can talk to Susan.

So I take a step closer to him and put my hand on his shoulder. There is an icy silence. Tim doesn't do anything, he doesn't step back, but he doesn't come closer either.

I bend over slightly so I can whisper in his ear, "We never talked about the kiss I gave you when we got back from the emergency room.”

"Um ... well ..." Tim stutters as his cheeks turn a bit red, “That was um … a misunderstanding.” Back then, we kind of bumped into each other when he wanted to help me get the bandage on my arm right. I'd kissed him, and he'd pretended our lips had accidentally touched. This time I will make sure there is no misunderstanding.

My hand that was on his shoulder slides to his head. I pull Tim towards me and press my lips to his. I expect Tim to push me off or some other signal I should not do this. But Tim doesn't move. I even have the feeling that the tension I felt in his body has slipped away from him. It even looks like he's leaning into the kiss. I may have been so brave and decisive until now, but the kiss doesn't keep me undisturbed. I just have to admit, I am in love with Tim, there is no doubt about my feelings for him. And this kiss also makes it clear to me that I could never feel this for a woman.

What I could not have imagined is that Tim answers the kiss. Slowly our lips slide apart and our tongues meet. My body is on fire. I'm kissing a man. And it is heavenly. Thoughts run through my head: why is Tim doing this, does he feel the same for me? The passion with which Tim kissed me back confuses me. He claimed he couldn't feel this for a man, didn’t he? Hadn't he discovered that experimentally in the past? But I don't want to be in my head, that would spoil the moment. I deepen the kiss as I run my hands through Tim's hair. And I surrender completely to the intensity of our kiss.

I have no idea how much time has passed when we finally let go of each other.

“We shouldn't have done this …” says Tim first. I look at him disappointed, how can he say that?

“Why?" I ask dismayed.

“I'm sorry, Alex. You know I'm straight. I can't do this, not with a man.”

I look at him condescendingly, "You just did.”

“That was a mistake …”, he lowers his eyes.

“A mistake, a misunderstanding, how can you keep saying that when there's so much between us?!” I shout at him. He doesn't dare to look at me anymore, and softly shakes his head.

Then he says in a weak voice, “I just know I'm not into guys. I don't understand the click I have with you.”

“Then give me a chance to discover together what this is,” I ask desperately.

“That's not fair to Susan …”

“I'm going to break up with her, this can't go on!” my voice skips. I'm getting more and more anxious that he's going to cut everything off.

“No, this isn't going to work. I've tried it with guys and I'm sure I'm straight.” His words break my heart. My head is empty, I feel paralyzed. I can't think of anything more to say to him that might convince him.

“I'm going to freshen up, I'll be right back." Then he turns and walks away from me.

Oof, why did my present-self think this was a good time to return to? Oh yeah, because here I have a good chance of getting to Tim's bookcase undisturbed. I remember I did that back then too. As I tried to push away the tears, I looked for distraction among the many books Tim owns. And now I'm here again, specifically looking for the book The Time Machine by H.G.Wells. Fortunately, I quickly find the thin book. I manage to pick up the book just fine, because that's what happened before too. The only thing I'm going to do differently now is write the letter A in the book. Against enormous resistance, I manage to pick up a pen and press it on the paper. It takes all my strength to make a scribble that somewhat resembles the letter A. I don't put the book back on the shelf anymore, but give it a push so that the book disappears behind the bookcase. The resistance was too great to leave a whole message, hopefully this was enough proof. I let the rainbow colours come again.

The Here and Now

It's taken way too long to get to Tim's home, back from my trip to the lake.

“Hey Alex, nice to have you back. Susan will drop by in a moment to discuss something about the band, but we've got some time right now.” Tim cheerfully greets me at the door. I run past him to the bookcase.

And on the way I yell, "Do you still have the book The Time Machine?"

"No sorry, I lost it a long time ago. Otherwise I would have already given it to you when you started about time travel.”

I reach behind the bookcase, take out the book and press it into Tim's hands.

“I changed something back in time, I made sure this became proof,” I say relieved. Tim wipes the dust off the book and opens it to the first page. There's my scribble.

“A?” asks Tim as his eyes widen, "Did you do this?! Have you really gone back in time and changed something?” I beam with pride. I did it, Tim has the proof in his hands.

“Wow ... but this is impossible, there must be another explanation for this ..." Tim can't believe it, “When could you have done this?”

“The time we kissed here.” Tim looks at me in disbelief, as if that moment never happened.

“Hello, hello!”, Susan says unexpectedly when she walks in. Stress goes through me. She wouldn't have heard about the kiss, would she? I don't want her to know that… But I assume from the cheerfulness of her voice that she missed the conversation. Desperately I look at Tim, does he believe my proof or not? But now that Susan's here, I can't ask him that anymore.