Back Again (the short story)

Complete short story

BACK AGAIN

By SUSAN MAY

Synopsis

Could there be any greater nightmare than living through the death of your child?

Yes. Reliving it again and again.

A tragic accident takes Dawn's only child right before her eyes. The following surreal days are filled with soul-destroying grief and moments she never wants to live again-until, inexplicably, she finds herself back again, living that day.

It's a second chance to save her son. But changing fate is not as simple as it first appears. Time is not Dawn's ally.

Tag Line

Between life and death

Lies fate.

 Movement 1

4:29PM

4 MINUTES TO THEN

 

Fourteen seconds. 

Dawn counted them down in her mind. On any other day, what difference would fourteen seconds make?

Today, they would be the difference between life and death.

Tommy would leave his music lesson any minute now. No, that was too vague. She knew the time. He would leave his music lesson at 4:33 and fourteen seconds. The seconds were what mattered. Fourteen increments of time that could-and would-change everything.

She checked the car clock. Dawn always glanced at it-she couldn't help herself-though there was no need to note the time. She knew it.

4:29

Her hands twisted together in her lap before pausing to pull at a stray thread on her skirt. She wrapped it around her finger and pulled. The thread was always there. It came away from the material, but she kept it twisted on her finger like a ring, as if she were married to the moment.

Married. That was a few years ago. She didn't think about Richard so much anymore. She used to, but there wasn't the time to care and fuss about inconsequential things like a broken marriage since this.

How many times had she checked that clock? How many seconds had she counted down? Still, the beat echoed in her head as if she herself were a ticking time bomb.

Her mouth felt dry, not a normal dry but the draining thirst that no amount of water can quench. Without looking down at it, she pawed at the drink bottle sitting in the center console. Flicking the lid open, she raised it to her lips and sipped. As she did, the digital clock changed numbers.

4.33

She lowered the bottle, her fingers gripping the cylinder, as if it were the last rung of a ladder hovering over a long drop. The metal felt as cold as her heart in those times when it all seemed pointless.

The door of the music studio flew open. Tommy's guitar, a large black case that seemed too big for his ten-year-old body, preceded him through the doorway. He paused and looked across the cars parked outside.

Catching sight of her, a smile erupted across his face and he waved. It was a small wave, one of those waves where you barely lift your hand. A wave that simply said I see you-you're there. Not a wave to say I love you, you're special or I am so happy to see you. Certainly, it wasn't a wave to say goodbye.