Rewound {PTX}

Car

I knock on Scott's door. "Mmmmmph? Daddud bedduh beyoo, Mish."

"Yes, it's me."

"Come in." His voice is still tired, but not lazy anymore. He's waking up at two in the morning for me.

I sit on the edge of his bed. "I think I'm unconscious or comatose. I keep hearing Scott in my dreams, asking me to wake up. I have to go back. I just wanted to let you know in case... it ends badly."

"Please don't."

"I have to."

"You don't have to. He may want you back, but if he really is me, he wants you safe more. You don't have to do anything. Besides, it's just a dream. Come here. I'll sing you a lullaby."

"You sound like him."

"I hate him." I can't see his face, but his tone sounds defiant.

"He's you, Scott. You don't hate yourself."

"I'm jealous of him," he sighs. "I have no right to be, but I am. And I'll never really be able to forgive him for hurting you."

"I explained-"

"And I understand, but I hate him all the same. And then he let you die, or almost die, and now he wants you back."

"And I want him back." I stand.

"I know. He means a lot to you, and I have to respect him for that, but what does he have that I don't? I know he's a different person. So that counts for something. But he's also me, right? I'm right here. Always will be."

I want to be able to say I'll always be here for him too, but how can I when I'm not there for the other Scott? "You weren't jealous before."

"I wasn't afraid of losing you before."

"He doesn't have anything you don't. It's not about that. He misses me, and it's breaking my heart. I've been crying a lot lately. Imagine if you could only hear me cry. Imagine if you couldn't talk to me or hug me or sing for me."

"I know it's horrible for you. You're going to make it, though. You're going to be okay, and I'll be here to help. Just ask me for whatever you need."

"I need to go back. I'm sorry, Scott." I reach out into the darkness until my fingers meet him and I give him a tight hug.

"Then go." He hugs me back, then releases me.

"Thank you." I linger a little longer before I go downstairs. Usually I meditate in my room, but now I head to the garage instead. It's dark and I'm tired, just like before. Scott has a fancier car now, so I use mine. I open the passenger door. I tremble as I fasten my seatbelt. I close my eyes.

The airbag was synthetic, with a tiny hexagonal pattern. It deflated as I watched. The temperature was cool and the air was dense with exhaust and smoke. I could hear cicadas outside and a dog barking far away. All that, but nothing from Scott.

This is too easy. Every detail is burned into my memory. I won't be able to go back unless I stretch for something. I was asleep before. What was I dreaming about? I remember wondering when I first woke up, before I understood what had happened. What was I dreaming about?

For hours I keep remembering. It doesn't feel like it's working. I suppress the thought. I have to focus. I remember a thread of the dream. There was a fox cub... and a tiny fawn the same size. The deer ran away, but the fox wanted to cuddle like a kitten. I was afraid of it a little, but it never bit me.

Before that, there were groceries. Groceries and a trunk. We were taking them to a party. We were running late and I was trying to get the grapes ready last-minute. The dream wasn't set in 2015 or 2011. Scott was there, but he wasn't 2015 Scott or 2011 Scott. He was just Scott and I was just Mitch, and all we had to worry about was cutting clusters of grapes into smaller clusters of grapes to bring to a potluck.

I remember further back, to when Scott woke me and brought me to the car. "Good morning, Mitch," he said. He shook my shoulder gently. His hand stayed even after I woke. "It's 2011. It's time to go home." I looked at my phone for the time. 4:31. There was a dead pixel on the screen near the home button, and I thought about replacing the phone, but then remembered I couldn't buy a new iPhone just because of a dead pixel. Not in 2011.

I leaned my head on Scott's shoulder all the way to the car. He opened the door for me. He glanced over to check that I buckled my seatbelt before turning on the car, even though I always do. He was tired, yes, but not sleepy. He was excited about the album.

The garage is lighter than before. The sky inside the window is brighter, but the sun isn't up yet. It must be around six now.

I hold my breath. I remember the pain and the panic and the adrenaline. I remember the horrible feeling of not knowing whether Scott was okay. I remember hoping an ambulance would come for him, hoping he'd be okay. I remember anticipating coming back to 2011 and being able to breathe again. I remember anticipating pain with every gasp and movement.

The sun rises. This isn't working. It's never taken more than four hours before. I keep trying. Nothing happens.

I step out of the car and climb back into the driver's seat. I turn the key in the ignition. I shift into drive. I let my foot off the brake and the car starts rolling slowly toward the garage wall. I move my foot over the accelerator.

The door from the house opens. Alex shouts, "He's here!" I put my foot on the brake and shift back into park. I'm tempted to leave it on to see if filling the garage with carbon monoxide will bring me back, but Alex is watching. I pull the keys out.

Scott runs up and Alex wisely steps aside so he doesn't run him over at the threshold. Scott puts his hand against my window. "You're here. I was worried."

"I'm here." I can't leave. I'm trapped. My gold bracelet feels like a shackle and my tattoos are brands. Scott carries me inside, lays me in my bed, and watches me fall asleep.

"Please wake up, Mitch. Your parents are here."

"Let him rest," Mike says softly. "You sleep as long as you need, son."

"We love you, Mitchie," says Nel. "We'll wait." She keeps talking to me, telling me about life back in Arlington, saying everybody loves the new album, and letting me know again and again how proud she is to be my mom.

"How are you holding up, Scott?" Mike asks.

"I just need him back."

I open my eyes, and Scott is right here at my bedside. He's the wrong Scott, but I'm glad to see him. "Go back to sleep," he hums. "Get some more rest. I'll be here."

I doze off again and hear my parents telling Scott they'll stay with me. He can go home for a while. Nel waits for him to leave. "Please come back for him, darling. He's not okay." I know. I want to. I'm trying. I can't.