Page 83 of Time After Time
Her hands trembled so violently that she muttered curses under her breath as she struggled to open it. Waves offrustration emanated from her, compelling me to step closer, eager to calm her and offer some support.
“Hey, Gen…” I whispered. She looked up at me, and my heart ached at the sight. Her eyes were red and puffy, her bottom lip trembling as she alternated her gaze between me and Robert, who had moved to my side, keeping a careful distance. “What’s going on?” I asked, my hand reaching out instinctively as her movements grew more erratic.
“Wait.” Her voice was sharp, and I froze, taken aback. Gen turned her attention back to the box, struggling to open it until her dad stepped in to help. “Okay, okay.” She turned to face me, visibly shaking, and took several deep breaths. “This,” she said, pulling an item from the box and holding it out to me. I didn’t reach for it, but kept my eyes fixed on the object. “This is a box.” She blinked, watching my reaction, and when she saw my confusion, her cheeks flushed. “A-a box that…” She faltered again, taking a profound breath as Sylvie stepped forward, whispering in her ear and rubbing her back before stepping away. “A box that holds all the souvenirs you’ve ever brought me whenever you went to spend time with your grandma.”
Robert stepped forward with a smile, taking the box from Gen. She didn’t resist as he opened it, revealing its contents to me—key chains, small figures, and various trinkets. Some of them were from years ago.
The next item Gen pulled from the box was a green and white bracelet, clearly handmade and somewhat uneven. I recognised it immediately. “I don’t know if you remember,” she began, her voice trembling slightly, “but you made this at school. It was one of the first times you came to class looking really upset.”
I recalled that day vividly.
We had just moved to a new place, and while I was relieved to escape my father’s reach, I was also terrified that he might show up and take me away from my mum. “You were so frustratedwith that project, and after you finished the bracelet, you left it on the table, saying you hated it.” Her cheeks flushed as she fumbled for words. “I didn’t hate it, so…” She hesitated, her eyes meeting mine shyly. “I kept it.”
My gaze shifted briefly to my mum, who was smiling with tears of joy in her eyes. She looked at me with a wide grin and moved closer to Robert, who also wore a pleased expression. Meanwhile, I was overwhelmed, consumed by a mix of nerves, confusion, and fear.
“I have an album filled with pictures of us, just like you do.” I nodded in acknowledgement. “But I kept more than just photos,” she continued, her hand diving back into the box. I was amazed at how such a small container could hold so many memories. “Like this!” She pulled out a black and red jersey from the Golden Falcons, an older design before they updated their colours to better represent our town. Who would have guessed that a team from a small town would become so popular?
“I’m not really into sports, and neither are you,” she said, trying to smile but wincing slightly. “Yet, you were so excited about seeing a match, and Robert took us. He even bought us these jerseys, though they didn’t have our sizes, so we looked pretty silly wearing them.” I remembered—those jerseys had hung off us like overgrown dresses. “Even though I didn’t care much for sports, I had a lovely day with you, and I loved having matching jerseys. But then I spilt chocolate milkshake all over mine and?—”
“And I looked over at you, and your eyes were wide and round, just staring at me. The next thing I knew, tears were streaming down your cheeks, but you were trying so hard to stay silent, hoping that Robert wouldn’t notice.”
She nodded, a teary smile breaking into a chuckle. “So you told Robert you were going to take me to the bathroom, and once we were inside, you shoved me into a stall and then squeezedinto the one next to mine. You passed your jersey from under the stall so we could swap them.” I still had my jersey—well, hers—and though the stain had mostly faded, the outline was still visible.
The jersey ended up on her dad’s lap, and now that I looked closely, I saw him glancing between Gen, me, and his wife, who was also watching their daughter with tearful eyes. “And I’ve kept so many more things,” Gen continued, pulling items from the box. “Like the first flowers you gave me. You picked them up on our way home and tucked them into my hair. I wanted to keep them forever.” She reached into the box again. “And this,” she said, holding up a small drawing. “It’s the doodle we made on a napkin when I was in the hospital after badly twisting my ankle.”
One by one, she pulled out items from the box, each one instantly recognisable to me because I had my own versions of those memories.
The thrill of seeing how much these shared moments meant to her was already overwhelming, but it intensified when she revealed another object.
It was a wooden rolling pin, looking small in her hand, but I immediately recognised it as the first rolling pin I ever had. Sure, it was just a toy, but I remembered using it when I’d help my mum with baking. When my mum eventually surprised me with a real rolling pin, I had given Gen this one, thinking she might like it too. Now, looking back, it seemed a bit silly since she never had much interest in baking.
“I kept it because I believed one day you’d become a known baker, and I wanted to be able to show you this,” she said, her thumb nervously rubbing against her lip as she chewed at the skin around her nail. I watched, breathless, waiting for her to continue. “And also because…”
“Why, Gen?” My voice broke through the silence, making her glance over at Sylvie, who offered a comforting smile. I stepped closer, drawing her gaze back to me. “Please, Gen, tell me why.”
She mumbled, her voice barely audible, “I was embarrassed and just a child then.” She took a deep breath, her face flushing a deep shade of red that made her look almost unrecognisable. “Because I thought,” she whispered, so softly I had to move even closer to hear. “Because I thought it would be a special gift for our…For our future child.”
Her words hit me with a wave of emotion so powerful it took my breath away. Gen had imagined a future for us—one where we were together and even had a child.
“I sympathised with Anne because I understood her,” she said, her hands trembling as she awkwardly tried to place the objects back in the box. “Even though our situations are different, I understood the pain of Wentworth not looking at her or longing for her the way she yearned for him.” She shook her head, her voice wavering. “I was scared, Sebastian.I’mscared because in a week, you’ll be leaving, and the thought of missing you is almost unbearable. I never knew love could feel this overwhelming.”
She clutched her dress over her heart; the gesture reflecting the way I had held mine on the beach. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and her voice was barely a whisper. “I was afraid you wouldn’t see me as more than a friend. I was terrified that when you left, you’d meet someone else who might be a better fit for you than I could be.” Her breath hitched as she struggled to control her emotions. “When you confessed your feelings, I was too stunned to respond. But I’ve felt the same way all along.”
This time, she took a step closer. “And if you’ll have me, I want you to know that I love you. I remember the exact moment I first looked at you and knew my feelings for you were far beyond just friendship.”
Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t care that our families were watching us. In fact, I found some solace in it—that she was so caught up in her feelings that she didn’t care about the audience. That Gen had felt the madness of needing to tell me she is in love with me.
Fuck, she is in love with me, too.
“A year and four months,” I said, my hand cradling the back of her neck. Her skin was warm and slightly damp with sweat, but I didn’t care, drawing her closer. “I’ll be away for that long, but I promise to call, text, and visit. And if you want, you can come see me too.” Before I could finish, she nodded, her eyes squeezed shut, bracing herself for what might come next.
“I will meet people there.” Her eyes remained tightly closed. A flicker of fear in them when she opened them again. “But I’ve known for a long time that no one could ever compare to you.”
As I spoke, her composure cracked, her shoulders trembling and her mouth contorting as she struggled to suppress her cries. The sound of her sobs pierced through me, the tears I’d been holding back finally spilling down my cheeks. “I told you once, and I’ll tell you again, Geneviève St. James,” I said, my voice breaking with emotion. “Never doubt what I would do for you, for us.”
Her sobs filled the space between us, raw and unfiltered, and I felt my own heart break with every sound. “I’ll absolutely take you because I’m in love with you.”
“I love you too.” Her face broke into a teary smile, her eyes sparkling with disbelief. She nodded slowly, as if trying to grasp that this was actually happening. To me, it felt like a dream as well, a moment so perfect it was hard to believe it was real.
