May's Dates.

Prologue.

Don’t skip the Prologue.

May 5th 2007.

According to May, the first time we met was on my deathbed- April 23rd 2007. However, I say the first time we met was 6 years before that, July 16th 2001. See, that’s the complexity of time travel- we both have the same memories, but in a completely different, and highly confusing, timeline. The final day I saw her was the day I asked her to put everything in order. I showed her all the dates, and she showed me which order she had visited me.

It’s a huge concept to wrap your head around, time travel. It’s a good job I’m the sharp type, easy at picking up things, and it’s a good job May has a superb memory.

I’m sitting here, staring at my coffee, in the exact spot we first met, writing all this down and looking over the diary dates we exchanged. I kept mine in a drawer beside my bed; she kept hers with her, in her coat’s top pocket- always.

It was good on her behalf- she could visit me at 3 parts of my life time, in as little as 24 hours. She could be with me while I was 18 at half 1, and then with me while I was 23, two minutes later. It was a very large wait for me, but a matter of seconds for her.

You may be wondering, didn’t it mess with your brain, all these new memories? Well no, because while they were happening in the past, they just popped into my present head as if they’d been there all along- she’d have to clarify whether it was recent for her or not.

Like I said, it’s difficult to grasp.

I could never travel with her. I went through my life, day by day, waiting for her to either visit me in my past or join me in my present. Sometimes she’d get bored of present me and take a trip to see me when I was three years younger. I never knew when I would see her again, unless we talked about it in advance- and even then it was hit and miss. It was one huge, horrible waiting game.

One of the worst parts was when she told me everything; when she revealed the order; when she told me she had first met me on my deathbed; when she had thought that I would die all along. Except I didn’t die. She had it wrong. And now I’ll never see her again.

The first time she saw me was the last day I saw her. And that was what killed me the most.

I buried my head in my hands. I hadn’t touched my drink since the waitress had brought it over. I had put on a fake smile and thanked her through my gritted teeth. I didn’t want the coffee; I just bought it as an excuse to sit in here for the whole day. I’d keep ordering them, so they couldn’t kick me out. I just spent hours ordering the pieces of paper, numbering them chronologically, trying to make sense of our unique love affair. Co-ordinating my dates with hers was almost impossible- why did she have to be so spontaneous?

My head started to hurt after I got through 28 dates.

“Sir, are you going to drink that coffee?”

I looked up. The waitress was looking at me cautiously. I smiled at her.

“Of course,” I placed the cup in my hands and took a sip; almost gagging. It was stone cold. I didn’t show it though. The waitress gave me a funny look, before walking off and attending other customers.

I had been out of hospital for three days now. I don’t know how I’d managed to recover from my heart attack, even the doctors were certain I wouldn’t make it. But I did- just.

I didn’t get it. If I’m still alive, then I’ll be alive in 11 years (May’s present day) as well. So, why does she think I’m dead?

...Unless I die soon.

What a morbid thought!

I shifted through the sheets. Seeing as May had thought I was going to die, she had only told me the order of the dates- she hadn’t actually organised the papers. So now it was my job to number them.

So that’s how I’d set it out. I’d organise the paper in my timeline chronologically, but put the number of which time in her timeline it was that she visited next to it. Seems about right.

It was a sad thought knowing I’d have to destroy these memories some day. If someone were to ever come across them, May would be in deep, deep trouble- if they ever found her, that is.

I must clarify- May is incapable of travelling into the future. You see, the future isn’t set; it relies on the decisions of others. The future could change in a blink of an eye- no one can ever see one set future.

She tried that, once; tried to go twenty minutes into her future- nothing too farfetched. She told me all she could see was flashes of scenes all around her, a new concept every millisecond. It hurt her head seeing all these possible scenarios. She never tried it again- as far as I know.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a young girl. She couldn’t have been more than 16. I turned my head around to watch her go over to a boy of a similar age. I heard her ask him, “Are you okay? You look sad.”

She sat opposite him, looking at him cautiously.

I smiled, remembering the same thing happen to me 6 years ago.

My name is Alex, I am currently 23, and this is my story.