Rewound {PTX}

Sam

I'm a little sore from sleeping upright in the couch, but it feels right. It feels like all the pain from the accident has faded into minor aches. It feels like I'm healing. My nightmare doesn't feel so real anymore.

This isn't the kind of thing that heals overnight, though. This is the kind of thing that weighs on your shoulders your whole life. It won't get lighter and it won't go away. I can only hope I'll get used to it and I'll grow strong enough to carry it.

Someday I will have thought about it enough. I will have explored it from every angle and felt all the emotions bound to it. Then, I'll be able to look at it without being sucked in, but now, I can think of nothing else, and it's making me sick. I'll never be able to wrap my head around this. Is time even progressing there? From my perspective, it's frozen, waiting for me to return. From theirs, it's marching on without me. They'll have a funeral. Maybe two. Maybe more; perhaps there was another car involved in the accident.

It's possible too that Mitch will survive in 2011. If that's the case, it means we've diverged, since I'm not planning on going back there, and if he had come back here, I would remember it. Perhaps he was hospitalized too long to be able to come back. Perhaps his perspective on life changed after the accident and he decided to stay there, leaving me wondering. Probably, though, he's just dead. Maybe he was unconscious for a few minutes after I left, or maybe a few hours. Maybe my dream of Scott was the last thing he heard. That's just wishful thinking, though. Why would Scott escape any less dead than me?

I do want him to be alive. Maybe they'll tell him I called the ambulance. I'd rather he remember that than how apathetic I was about our album. I should have cared more. I should have made something I could have been proud of, not just something to boost our careers and make us famous. When did I lose sight of the music?

If Scott is indeed alive in 2011, this is just as hard for him as it is for me. The solidarity is no comfort. I don't want Scott to have to share my misery. I want him to be okay. He wants me to be okay. That's the thought that forces me to keep on functioning through the first week.

It doesn't feel right that people don't know. I feel like I have to either act happier than I am or explain why I'm always so sad. The first option won't work when my eyes are always red, and the second isn't much of a choice either.

Scott has been watching out for me. He even checks in on me at night sometimes and hums me to sleep when I'm awake crying. I wouldn't be surprised if he left a baby monitor under my bed. The idea would creep me out if it were anyone else, even my own mother at this point, but Scott's welcome to anything. He doesn't understand, but he cares.

Kevin makes me an appointment with his therapist, now also my therapist, and even drops me off at his office. I ride in the back seat.

A square, dark haired man in his fifties welcomes me in. He looks a bit Russian, but his accent is Midwestern. "Welcome. You're Kevin's friend?"

"Mitch. Yes."

"Please, take a seat. I'm Sam. I probably won't be your therapist for the long term because I'm working with Kevin, but I hoped we could talk today. I thought perhaps you could shed some light on your friend's condition."

I stand again faster than I sat down. He thinks Kevin's crazy and he thinks I think so too. He's just trying to help, though. He thinks I want to help too. I do. I sit down again slowly. "Look at me. Can you tell why I came?"

He does as I ask. He looks at me carefully and answers, "You're sad." He doesn't make it sound fancy or pretentious. He doesn't assume too much.

"I lost someone very dear. That's what happened to Kevin too. Don't get caught up with the time travel. It's not about that. He lost someone, and she lost him, and he's worried for her and he misses her."

"Did you know her?"

"She's real, Sam. She and Kevin really were married. She's still alive, but the marriage is no longer binding, and they'll never be able to communicate or see each other again."

"You have no idea how helpful your insight is. I can never tell with him how much is imagined and how much is real."

"A lot more is real than you realize. He was separated from his whole life, not just Cas, and his transition into this new life is nothing short of inspiring. You don't have to believe he's from the future, but it's safe to assume that he's telling the truth, even if it's in a strange way."

"What really happened, if you don't mind my asking?"

"He was shot. He took some pills. They brought him back twenty years."

"Mitch, if you don't want to tell me-"

"What I'm telling you is that his explanation is good enough. It's the perfect metaphor for what really did happen. You've been working with him for years, so I'm sure you've tried just about everything. Now try breaking the rules. Try playing along. See what happens." It'll make his job twenty times easier.

"There are no perfect metaphors. We mustn't humor his delusions. It will only worsen them."

"He's intelligent. He knows that it's only a framework for communicating his experiences. Use it." He nods and leans back in his chair. He's not going to take my advice.

This is how I'm going to have to live from now on. I'll have to forget about my other life, or pretend it's a metaphor for some kind of inner turmoil. "How does Kevin put up with you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"This isn't right for me." I need to talk to Kirstie instead. I call her and she agrees to pick me up.

"I can't wait to see you! I have a big surprise. The announcement is next week, so I can finally tell!"

"I have some not so great news for you myself."

"Aw, I'm sorry. Hopefully they'll balance each other out."

Not likely. She pulls up and leans over to push open the passenger side door for me, but I shake my head and climb in the back. She's too eager to share her news to ask why. "Remember how I wouldn't tell you what I was voicing?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to be a Disney Princess!"