The Future You Don't Know

"Ah, there's nothing quite like unwinding in front of the television with a cold beer after a grueling day," I remark to Oliver as I sink into the comfort of my recliner. Oliver, our loyal Irish Setter, has always been a good boy, but today, his behavior has taken an odd turn.

My wife is away at a work-related conference, leaving me to relish the peace and quiet. I must admit, I don't miss her constant nagging one bit.
Don't get me wrong, I love my wife but she can become a bit too much. Especially the last few months, she's been so moody and extra controlling.

As I prepare to select a Netflix movie, the doorbell suddenly chimes, interrupting my solitude. I let out an exasperated sigh. Oliver barely acknowledges the sound; he's never been much of a guard dog.

The doorbell rings again, and I mutter a few choice words under my breath. "Hold on, I'm coming." I'm not a foolish guy, so I grab my trusty baseball bat before approaching the door cautiously.

Peering through the peephole, I spot an elderly gentleman standing outside. The street appears deserted, devoid of any recognizable cars, and the man is a complete stranger.

I decide to cautiously open the door, baseball bat at the ready. The man seems lost in thought, and when he looks up and sees me, his expression twists into one of surprise. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"Jonathan, you need to let me in," the man says calmly, leaving me bewildered. "Do... do I know you, sir?" I can't help but feel a sense of unease. How does he know my name?

"Yes and no," he replies cryptically, "but it's not important. What matters is that I need to save you." I'm at a loss for words, so I simply stare at the man, who now strikes me as vaguely familiar. "Just let me in, and I'll do my best to explain. Come on, John-John. We don't have time."

His words compel me to step aside, allowing the man to enter my home. The only person who ever called me John-John was my brother, who tragically passed away when we were just twelve years old.

"Would you like to sit down? Have a cup of..." I begin, but he cuts me off with urgency. "No. There's no time. Your life is in danger."

I narrow my eyes suspiciously and then I spot Oliver getting up and walking into the kitchen. Yup, he's about to do his business in there.
"Just give me a minute, I need to let the dog out."
The man sighs heavily as I walk towards the kitchen. I open the door for Oliver and he runs off. There's a gap in the fence that I never get to repairing and he likes doing his thing on the neighboring property. Fortunately it has been vacant for months. I do however, go over there often to pick up his landmines.

I make my way back to my visitor.
"Please, just hear me out," he implores. In silence, I nod.

"No matter how many times I return,  you always die on this date," he continues, scanning the room before fixing his gaze on me once more. "I know this sounds absurd, but I do know you. My mother told me that your brother, Daniel, called you John-John. He drowned when you were kids... You need to believe me. You die on this very day, and it ruins our lives."

"What do you mean, I die? That makes no sense, man. I'm still alive and kicking. The day is nearly over. And let's say I believe you, how would you know when it's going to happen? Why can't you... I don't know, pitch up earlier so you have more time to explain it? Also, how would my death even affect you or your mother when we've never met?"

I'm so confused, even a bit frightened. I'm not sure I believe the rantings of this old man, yet... he seems just so familiar and he knows things about me.

"After your death, my mom will become a mere shell of herself. It... destroys her, it destroys us. It doesnt always happen at the same time or in the same way but it always happens in this house. All you need to do is leave. Look, I can't even explain it. I... made the worst decisions, alienated everyone. Drugs, drinking...
I passed away, alone in my crappy apartment with no one caring. I can't find peace until I save you. Just... please," he pleads, growing increasingly frantic.
I'm starting to feel ill and disorientated. I don't understand any of this.

"Do you smell... gas?" I whisper.

He widens his eyes and a single tear runs down his cheek as he grasps my arm; and suddenly, chaos erupts as the gas main beneath my house explodes...
"Too late again. I'm sorry, Dad. I'll do better next time."
He slowly fades away...

The last thing I glimpse is the man's sorrowful face before falling into oblivion.
***