Page 9 of Time After Time
“About what?”
Her lips curled downward, and I inched closer, silently hoping to offer some comfort. “I found myself in my thirties, living alone in a tiny apartment, stuck in a dead-end job that barely paid enough to get by,” she began, her voice quivering slightly. I leaned in, hanging on to each word she spoke. “I was working on some high-profile businessman’s construction project for a fancy building. It was one of those days when everything went wrong.” She continued, listing one thing after another—like the coffee machine that broke, the taxi that splashed water all over her, the boss who seemed to get off on making everyone miserable—and more.
“And when I finally got home, this wave of loneliness just... hit me,” she said, her voice soft, almost like she was speaking to herself. She wiped at her eyes, her fingers lingering on her cheek. “I hadn’t talked to my parents, and Sylvie…” She trailed off, her breath hitching as she looked away, her gaze darting around before finally meeting mine. “Sylvie was gone, and I didn’t even go to her funeral.”
I was about to ask, but she raised her hand, silencing me. “You weren’t around either. I don’t know what happened between us, but even thinking about youhurt.” She paused, her eyes distant, like she was somewhere else. “I saw our photo album and couldn’t bring myself to open it.”
Her words hit me hard, a knot tightening in my chest. I had a thousand questions bubbling up, but they all seemed to freeze before they reached my lips.Why wasn’t I there? Why did just thinking about me cause her so much pain? What the hell had happened between us?
“Hey,” I whispered, cupping her cheeks as I leaned in, our foreheads gently pressing together. I didn’t mind the damp strands of her hair sticking to mine. “That nightmare? It’s not going to come true.”
The thought of leaving at the end of summer crept into my mind again, but I shook it off. “We’ve still got the entire summer, Gen,” I said, my voice softer, hoping she’d feel it. “We can explore, try new things, find something you’re passionate about. A place, an experience, something that helps you see where you want to go.” It was the best I could offer right then, but I hoped it was enough.
She took a deep breath, her warm exhale brushing against my skin as she rested her forehead on my chest. Her cool fingertips brushed my lower back, sending a shiver through me. I felt my muscles tighten, my hands moving to her bare back, goosebumps rising. The sound of waves surrounded us, crashing against the shore.
These were the fears we knew we’d have to face eventually, the kind that seemed bigger the more we focused on them.
For a while, we stayed like that. The sun growing stronger as we shifted into more comfortable positions, drowsiness slowly pulling at both of us.
Eventually, the heat became too much for Gen. She shifted, letting out a grunt as she pulled away from my chest, her skin damp from the sun and our closeness. She glanced out at the water, then back at me with a small smile. “How about one last swim before we head home?”
Once we reached her house,I broke the silence that had settled over us during the walk. “See you tomorrow morning?” I asked, already knowing I’d be tied up helping my mum with some repairs for the rest of the day. There were also a few boxes I still needed to bring over to my cottage.
Gen nodded and smiled, stepping closer to pull me into a tight hug. Instinctively, I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, just like always.
“Hey, Seb,” a familiar voice called out, drawing my attention to the doorway. Sylvie was walking toward us, her smile as bright as ever. I chuckled and opened my arms for a hug, waiting until Gen stepped back. “Seriously, you’ve got to stop growing,” Sylvie teased, her hug much quicker than her sister’s. I gave her a light pat on the back as we pulled apart. “Did you have a growth spurt in the few days you were gone?”
A sly smile spread across my face. “Well, mynonnamakes these little casseroles and piles my plate high with double servings of everything.” I watched their eyes light up, the corners of their lips twitching before they both burst into laughter, shaking their heads in disbelief.
My grandma had a way of making sure we were never just full, but completely stuffed. The St. James sisters knew her cooking well, since mynonnahad a special fondness for them. Back when she was healthier, the kitchen was always filled with the smell of her cooking, and she wouldn’t let anyone stop at just one serving. Even if we were stuffed, she’d still insist we save room for dessert or a few slices of fruit.
“Oh, Sylvie,” I said, glancing at Gen as I crossed my arms. “Could I bring my truck by sometime? There’s this weird noise I can’t figure out.”
Sylvie’s expression shifted, her face lighting up as if she couldn’t wait. “How about tomorrow?” she said, almost bouncing on her heels. The idea of getting it done so soon felt like a weight lifting off my shoulders.
“Tomorrow works for me,” I agreed.
After thanking Sylvie, I pressed a quick kiss to Gen’s temple and began the walk home. The sun blazed overhead, its harsh light making everything feel too sharp.
“Hey, man,” Robert called out from the porch. He was wearing an old black t-shirt and swim trunks, splattered with pink paint. Despite the glare of the sun, I could see the sweat glistening on his skin. Mum had wanted the house painted this soft pastel pink for ages, and now her dream was finally coming true. “You’re here already?”
I pulled off my shirt and laid it by the porch steps, making sure not to let any paint stain it.
“Yeah, I told Gen I’d be helping out today,” I said, shifting my weight as I glanced at Robert. He nodded, his long black hair tied back into a man bun, a few strands falling loose. “She said she’s around if we need an extra set of hands.” He gestured to the paint bucket, the roller resting inside. “Where’s Mum?” I asked, stepping toward the bucket and grabbing the roller. My feet moving automatically toward a blank section of the porch.
“She went over to Mrs. Morgan’s. Apparently, she’s got some old chairs that she thinks your mum could work her magic on for the porch.” Excitement stirred within me at the thought. My mum had this incredible ability to take any worn-out piece of furniture and transform it into something as good as new. She had both the vision and the skill to pull it off. It was something special, and I often mused that I’d inherited my own creativity from her.
In terms of looks, though, I looked just like my father—I’d got his hair and skin tone. But luckily, his blue eyes didn’t make their way to me. As beautiful as the colour was, all I could remember was the anger and fury they held whenever he got upset. He was never physically violent, thank goodness, but his shouting, sudden movements, and the way he’d get too close when he was angry were more than unsettling. One of the best days of my life was when my mum managed to leave him and bring us here. I no longer had to worry about her safety while Iwas at school, or wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of his yelling, although it took time for the fear to vanish.
“Are you two going to the market tomorrow?” Robert asked, setting down his paintbrush and walking over to a nearby table. He grabbed a water bottle and wiped the sweat from his brow with the corner of his shirt, letting out a quiet huff as he did.
“Yeah, I guess so.” He tossed the bottle in my direction before grabbing another for himself. I grinned and took a few long swigs, the sun warming my skin. Gen would kill us if she knew we were working out here without sunscreen. I’d probably tell her we were under the porch, and she’d still give me a lecture about why that wasn’t good enough. “Once Sylvie checks over Mum’s car.”
Robert chuckled. “Let me tell you,” he said, gesturing toward me before picking up his paintbrush again. Our goal was to finish before Mum got back, so we could surprise her with the transformation. “That girl’s got some serious skills. My car’s been running like a dream ever since she worked her magic on it.”
I laughed quietly, giving him a quick nod.
Cars had always fascinated Sylvie. The sound of an engine would light up her eyes, and she’d pester her dad endlessly to take her to car shows, especially when there were vintage models on display. “Is that what she wants to do?”
