Time After Time

I took one last puff of my cigarette and flicked it to the ground. It smoldered on the sidewalk, teetering on the edge of a fringe carpet. I leaned back in my chair, watching the small tendril of smoke climb higher and higher, and waited for something to happen. 

“Can I get you another tequila?” the waitress asked with a smile. My lips sank at the corners when her high-heeled foot crushed the embers into nonexistence. 

“Nine o’clock. Better not.”

“Alright then. Would you like anything else, or can I bring you the check?”

“Check please,” I forced a smile. She nodded and turned.  “Hey, actually—” I straightened up, causing just enough movement to catch her eye. Her bobbed hair swung around her face as she faced me again, and she waited patiently while I dug around in my pocket. “It’s a long shot, but have you seen this man?” 

She leaned in close, looking at the small one-by-two picture I held between my fingers. It was frayed at the edges, and the ink was beginning to flake off in places, but the image was clear: a young fellow with blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He wasn’t smiling, but wasn’t frowning either—he looked rather confused, if anything. The waitress knitted her eyebrows as she searched her memory, and for a moment looked surprised. 

“He used to be a regular. He uh…” she took a step back. “I’ll be right back,” she breathed. 

Her heels clicked against the concrete sidewalk as she skittered into the depths of the restaurant. Tucking the photograph back into my pocket, I stood up from the table and joined the sparse crowd moseying about the street. I was slightly frustrated—this always happened when I was getting close. 

My fingers dove into the interior pocket of my jacket while I absentmindedly followed the herd of people towards the crosswalk. And then it happened again. So distracted by my thoughts, I didn’t notice the whining horn of the school bus until it was upon me. It sounded strangely distorted, as if the sound was emanating from underwater. 

I felt a warm liquid pooling around my torso and head as I laid on the pavement bleeding out. My body did its best to shield me from the pain, but the adrenaline wasn’t enough. Sharp prickles of numbness washed over my skin like a tidal wave and my vision began to grow foggy. I watched as the muted heads of bystanders leaned over me in an attempt to save my life, but it was too late. The blackness took me before any of them had a chance to dial the police. 

I sat up sputtering briny seawater. My fingers dug into the soft gray sand as my body heaved involuntarily, and the echoes of my distress stretched far across the open water and climbed high above on the cliffs overhead. 

It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the light. It was an overcast day on the beach, and my clothes were still damp, evidence that I had been here for some time. Head aching, I took a few moments to regain my balance and get to my feet. I decided on an aimless direction and started to walk, but a flash of color on the bleak sand caught my attention. It was a small photograph with frayed edges, showing the monotone expression of an older man with red hair, speckled with grey, and a large mole beneath his right eye. I picked it up and tucked it into my pocket. 

I didn’t know why I was here, but this figure, whoever they were, held the answers. 

I was sure of it.