53
I clutch the wrinkled, damp note in one hand. My words are scrawled in faded pencil and the sheet of paper scratches the palm of my hand. I clasp the gold pocket watch in my other hand. Its rounded edges press into my cool skin and the ticking of the watch reverberates through me.
It’s 12:30 a.m. Christmas Eve.
The day is just beginning.
Two years ago Aaron died, and everyone he loved died with him.
Except Becca. Except me.
I don’t know why I dreamed the current year or why I was sent to last year. I only pray that this time I’m sent back two years. To the Christmas Eve when everyone was lost.
I’ve studied the photographs, the maps, and the news reports. I know exactly where the island fell into the sea. I know which beaches were gobbled, which forests were consumed, which buildings were spared. I know the exact jigsaw of where the island fell apart and dropped into the sea. And I know the exact time it happened.
11:48 a.m.
There were so many clues. If only I’d looked for them.
But I’m here, my eyes closed, the dark blanketing me. The weight of the watch heavy in my hand. The weight of the words in the note just as heavy.
I take a deep breath, full of the cold winter air and the stillness of the night, and I let the ticking of the watch rock me asleep.
As I fall, winding down with the slow heartbeat of the watch, I feel the slow ebb and flow of a gentle tide.
I think of Aaron. Of his arms around me. Of his hands sliding over my salty, sand-covered skin. I think of him whispering my name, “Fi.” And then the light in his eyes, right before he kissed me.
For years I believed I didn’t want my dreams to come true.
But that was before I had dreams that were worth fighting for.
It was before Christmas Eve, before the gunshot, before Max proposed, before Buttercup gave me the watch, and before I dreamed.
Now, as the watch echoes the beat of my heart, I have one single prayer.
One prayer that crashes against the shore of my heart, beating out a single desperate plea.
Dream.
Dream.
Dream.
Let me dream of him.
One more time.
I wake up to heat, to humidity, to the rumble of an earthquake.