Page 69 of Time After Time
“Remember the car convention you came to with me a few weeks ago?” Sylvie hesitated as she spoke, and I nodded, trying to steady my trembling fingers by attemptingnotto focus on the thought of my sister leaving and the impact it would have on our relationship. But focusing on the convention wasn’t helping either, because it had been the day on which Sebastian had broken his humerus.
“Do you remember that man who was talking about his metallic blue 1977 Pontiac Firebird Formula? He mentioned he’d taken it to three different car workshops, but no one could figure out what was wrong with it?” I nodded, recalling the elderly man with the striking blue eyes and an impeccablytailored suit. His grey hair had been slicked back with gel, and everything about him seemed to be in place.
“I gave him my email, remember?” She blinked rapidly, eager to continue. “He emailed me the other night about what was wrong with the car. I sent him a detailed list of three possible issues, and he took it to another workshop. They focused on those problems and found that I was right.”
I wasn’t surprised.
Sylvie was like a mother with a newborn when it came to cars—her instincts were flawless, always knowing exactly what they needed. She’d never been wrong about her assumptions. “He offered me a job. He sells antique cars and prepares them for exhibitions.” My eyes widened, and I couldn’t help but smile, thrilled for her. “He had someone working for him who did the repairs and other tasks. That person was his best worker, but he had a baby and decided to stay home while his wife went back to her business.”
Sylvie set the box on the ground, ensuring nothing inside was disturbed as she leaned closer to me, her hands resting on my knees. “He wants me to take his place. Not start from the bottom. He wants me to be...” She paused, clearly still astonished by the offer. “The one directing others and working on the cars, of course.”
“Sylvie, that’s-.”
“Wait,” Sylvie interrupted, her excitement barely contained. “That’s not all.” My hands rested on top of hers, eager to hear more. “He’s Benedict Crassus.” The name didn’t ring a bell, and Sylvie’s eyes widened in surprise when she realised I didn’t recognise it. “Gen, Benedict Crassus! He owns the Crassus buildings—two of them in New York—and he’s the world’s leading seller of vintage vehicles.”
“No way!” I gasped, my eyes widening in disbelief as I sprang up from the bench. Sylvie quickly followed suit, her feet stomping on the ground.
“Yes fucking way.”
I immediately wrapped my arms around my sister’s shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. She responded as fast, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head against my neck. Despite my sweat soaking through, she seemed undeterred, letting out a deep sigh as her body shook slightly.
She needed the hug more than I did.
“I’m a bit scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling. Hearing Sylvie—always so strong and fearless in my eyes—say this felt jarring. It made my heart ache, thinking of what could be going through her mind for her to feel that way.
“Why?” I asked, giving her one last squeeze before letting go, though my hands stayed on her shoulders, steadying us both.
“I never aspired to much,” Sylvie began, my brow furrowing as she spoke. “Hear me out. I never aimed for anything grand—just to follow my passion. And once I achieved that…” She shook her head, looking up to meet my eyes again. “After reaching that goal, I didn’t have any other plans. I had hoped to learn more about vehicles, open my own car repair shop here in Golden Sands, attend conventions, take photos, and share everything on social media. But…”
“But you never thought someone like Crassus would be interested in your expertise?” I asked, noticing Sylvie’s nervous tic—scrunching her nose, which she only did when under a lot of stress. “With all the knowledge and natural talent you have for cars, you never imagined that someone from a big company might want you?”
A grin spread across my face, overwhelmed with joy for my sister and the opportunities this could bring her.
“Do you think I’m making the right choice by accepting it? By leaving Golden Sands?” The sun seemed to have softened, its heat turning pleasant rather than overwhelming. A faint breeze had picked up, giving me goosebumps on my arms, or maybe it was just the thought of my sister leaving.
I scoffed, shaking my head as I glanced at the bench where we had been sitting moments before, trying to sort through my own emotions.
“Can I be honest?” I asked, watching as Sylvie nodded and sat on the bench, her posture showing she was ready to stay as long as needed. “I don’t want you to leave.” Her legs started bouncing, despite her efforts to stay still. “Being in a big city means we won’t get to see each other as often, and while we have phones and all...” I had to pause, blinking back tears as they welled up. “There will be times when you will be too busy, or I will.”
She nodded so rapidly that it made me think she had already thought of this herself. “And we won’t be able to have our sisterly dates as often,” she added, her frown deepening as she blinked, uncomfortable with showing such vulnerability.
“But,” I emphasised the word, making it stand out, and Sylvie looked up at me with wide eyes full of hope that nearly broke me. “But this is a huge opportunity, Sylvie. How often do you get a chance like this? It’s perfect for you.” I took a step closer and crouched down in front of her. “Yes, opening a car workshop here is a great idea, and I’m sure it would succeed. But antique cars have always fascinated you. This job will let you work with them, learn more, and—” Sylvie chuckled, though it sounded like a desperate attempt to hold back tears. “And if you don’t take it, I’ll have to face my fear of driving and take you myself. Because, as your sister, and out of how much I love you, I won’t let you miss this once-in-a-lifetime chance.”
“Fucking shit, Gen,” Sylvie spoke, her hands moving up to rub her eyes with the backs of her palms after handling festivalitems. When she pulled them away, her eyes were red, and a streak of mascara was smeared across her eyelids. “I hate leaving this place.” She glanced around, as if trying to take in every detail before a plane whisked her away. “And I hate leaving you, too.”
I shook my head, letting my own tears fall. I wanted to tell her that my place was here, but was it? I wasn’t sure, but I knew I loved this small town and hoped I would continue to, even after Sebastian and Sylvie were gone. “But I think I want this,” she said, shaking her head as if realising the truth. “Iwantthis.”
“Then what else do you need?” I asked, managing a teary smile. “This is for you.”
Eventually, Sylvie had to leave, but not without hugging me for a few more minutes that I wished were interminable. And after helping me carry everything to the heart of the bustling square, where the other festival staff and volunteers were waiting, she said her goodbyes and left.
I watched her walk away, the sight of her back becoming one I’d have to get used to seeing less often. The thought unsettled me deeply. My clothes felt uncomfortably tight, as if the sweat had fused them to my skin, and my shoes seemed packed with sand, though I knew that was impossible as I hadn’t been on the beach today.
I lost track of time as I stared at Sylvie’s receding figure until she blended with the crowd in the square, becoming just one more figure among many.
With a pang of anguish, I turned around, ready to carry the boxes into the town hall by myself. But just as my fingers grazed one of the boxes, a cold sensation brushed against the side of my neck. “Did you drink anything today?”
The cool touch on my skin and the familiar voice sent tingles through my entire body. I closed my eyes in bliss, feeling thetension in my forehead and the discomfort in my temples begin to melt away. “I don’t want you passing out.”
