Herbert
“Who the hell’s Herbert?” I whispered, staring at the letter in my hand. It was beautifully written, confessing said Herbert’s passionate love for, I believe, my mother. The problem is, my father’s name is George. I scanned through it a third time, and that’s when I noticed its date. Saturday, April fourteenth, 2017. “Well, maybe it’s a typo. Maybe it’s supposed to be 1917,” I told myself. There was a problem with that idea, too. My mother wasn’t even alive then. So how the hell does she have a letter from 2017?
“Tucker? Oh, shit! What are you doing here!?!” I froze. My mother appeared in the doorway. Am I not supposed to be in here? I didn’t even know about the room until five minutes ago. But here I am, standing in this plain room with white walls and hardwood flooring that appeared to be redwood. And I’m about to get in trouble because of it.
“I didn’t know. Honest, I just – just found the place. And I – I just was curious why we had a – a room I didn’t know about,” I leapt to my defense. I dropped the paper on the desk where I found it, fidgeting uncomfortably.
“Tucker, what have you seen?” my mother asks, edgier than I am. I shift my gaze down to my sneakers.
“Just – just a letter, is all. But… why was it dated five years in the – the future?” She made her way over to the desk, next to me, and picked up the letter.
“It was a mistake, I guess. Maybe it was supposed to be 2007,” she replied hurriedly, fingering the letter.
“So you were having a – an affair!?!” I screamed. What the hell was going on?
“No, you don’t get it! Jesus, Tucker, it’s from the future! Okay, damn it? It’s from 2017,” she shouts bitterly.
“How?”
“You see the filing cabinet?” she asks. I glance at the huge gray cabinet in the corner of the room and nod. She doesn’t see me, never looking up from the letter, so I say yes. “In the drawer at the very top, the padlocked one, there’s this thing, a little handheld device, like a cellphone, almost, that lets you travel through time.” I laughed.
“Really? What is this, the H.G. Wells novel? Say hey to the Eloi for me!” I chuckle.
“Tucker, I’m serious.”
“Fine. But what’s with this Herbert guy?” She looks up finally, and I can see she’s crying.
“My boyfriend,” she mutters.
“So you are having an affair, just in the future?”
“No.”
“Then what? Come on, mom. Tell me.”
“It’s better if you don’t know,” she whispers, moving back towards the door.
“No, it’s not, mom. I need to know.”
“Your father, he’s dead, Tucker. And so are you.”
