Sam gazed up at the ceiling of Yolanda’s bedroom. Despite everything, he was still here. What did it mean that he remained, a relic of a broken timeline? A temporal orphan of sorts, something that couldn’t be, and yet had to be in order for this particular timeline to exist.
A glance at the mirror confirmed that he was, in fact, still inhabiting the aura of poor Yolanda. Was this his penance now — to live out his days in the guise of this unlucky person, while their soul was snuffed out in the shuffle?
That couldn’t be his fate. It would be too cruel. He’d only been doing what God or Time or—
“Oh, forget it,” Sam mumbled, climbing out of the bed. “Any god worth a damn wouldn’t have let this happen in the first place.”
As he wandered listlessly out of the bedroom, he stopped in his tracks, locking eyes with one of the fluffiest cats he’d ever seen, perched on the arm of the couch. It greeted him with a chirrup.
“Where did you come from?”
If Yolanda had a cat, this was the first he was seeing of it. Then again, cats were timid creatures, only seen when they intended to be. Sam moved to it, holding out a finger to sniff.
“I’m sorry your Mom’s indisposed,” he said as the feline touched a wet nose to his finger. “Well, to be honest, I don’t know where she is now…”
The cat lowered its head, pushing against Sam’s hand. Getting the hint, Sam pet the soft little creature, and scratched behind its ear. He felt for a collar buried under all that fur, and successfully clutched a metal name tag, which he pulled out of the fluff and read.
“Blitzen?” Sam’s eyebrows shot up. That was the name of one of his farm cats back home. “Curious…”
He set about checking for cat food in the cupboards. He might have been in the middle of a major existential crisis the likes of which he had never known, but he wasn’t about to starve this little guy.
Turning up nothing, he finally fished a can of tuna out of the pantry and presented it to Blitzen, who proceeded to dig in with a loud purr. It was a simple act, but knowing he’d at least improved a cat’s life today made the dread Sam felt deep in his gut subside, just a little bit.
Sam didn’t bother putting on makeup today, opting instead to splash his face with water. He chose comfortable clothes. And the mirror image looking back at him had a tense expression, her eyes hollow and tired — and Sam was sure it wasn’t just that she didn’t have concealer on.
Sam rubbed at his temple as the pain returned, a little more intense.
What is this headache?
He could only guess it must be connected to his dying self. Would it just keep getting worse?
Sam swallowed aspirin before heading for the door.
* * *
When Sam arrived back at the hospital, a familiar figure was standing at the reception desk, speaking with the nurses.
“Professor LoNigro!” Sam blurted.
The Professor’s head swivelled at the mention of his name, and he looked Sam up and down without recognition.
“Do I know you, Madam?” he asked, as Sam took in the man’s bloodshot eyes.
He’s been crying…
“Uh… no. No,” he said, scratching his head. “But we have a mutual friend here, don’t we?”
“You know Sam?”
Sam nodded.
“Very well. You could say he and I spent a lot of time together.” Sam held out a hand. “I’m… Yolanda. Bennett.”
“Sebastian LoNigro,” he said, shaking Sam’s hand, “but apparently you already knew that.”
“I did,” Sam agreed. “He talked about you all the time. He was very excited about the theory the two of you were developing.”
The Professor tilted his head. “You keep talking about him in the past tense.”
There are at least two reasons, but you’re only interested in one.
“Do you know his condition?” Sam tested.
“A coma, I heard. Possibly a serious one.”
Sam bit his lip. “It’s a little more serious than you might guess. He has almost no brain activity, Professor. His family is coming tonight to say their goodbyes before he’s taken off life support.”
Professor LoNigro looked like he’d been slugged in the gut.
Sam closed his eyes. “It’s all my fault. I was supposed to get hit by that car, not him.”
And now we’re both done for. Aren’t we? That’s why my head hurts.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and Sam opened his eyes to see the Professor gazing at him through tears.
“Miss… Bennett, was it? Do you know why Sam was so interested in time travel?”
Sam gave him a bitter smile. “Because of missed opportunities. Wanting to undo the wrongs of the past.”
Like Tom’s death.
“Precisely!” said Professor LoNigro, with a warm smile. “And if you’re here because he intervened, then perhaps his last act — saving your life — is a manifestation of that drive to put things right. Your well-being now is his final gift. Cherish that gift, Miss Bennett.”
Sam knew full well what the intent of his counterpart’s actions were. The problem was, of course, that the effect was quite the opposite. And Sam’s ‘well-being’ was getting worse by the hour, as his pounding temple was quick to remind him.
But, Sam kept quiet about this line of thought, opting instead to grace his once mentor with a thin smile.
“You’re a good man, Sebastian LoNigro.”
The Professor reached a hand into his pocket, and produced a business card. He gently lifted Sam’s hand, placing the card in his palm.
“You said Sam discussed his theories with you, yes? I may have some documents of his you might like to look at, if you’d like. Or, if you’d just like to talk more, give me a jingle.”
Sam looked down at the MIT branded card, with the Professor’s mailing address and telephone extension, both of which he found he already remembered.
“Thank you, Professor.”
The Professor’s smile faded. “I suppose we may meet again at the wake, anyway?”
Sam wasn’t so sure about that, but he nodded nonetheless. “Yeah, I guess so.”
The Professor turned to leave, but paused, looking back with an unreadable expression. “The way you say certain things… sure sounds a lot like Sam. You must have spent a lot of time around him to have picked up such quirks.”
“Yeah, well,” Sam shrugged. “We were joined at the hip, in a way.”
The Professor looked pensive for a moment, before nodding, and saying his goodbyes as he left the hospital.