Date: Sun, 22 May 94 12:15:15 EDT From: "Tracy E. Finifter" Subject: Meant to Be - Pt. 6 Message-Id: "Meant to Be - August 12, 1953" by Tracy E. Finifter Part 6 The night passed slow and restlessly, and the next day didn't help put matters in any better perspective. He tried living Dirk Simon's life as best he could, but with the thought of his friend occupying his mind the entire day. He went straight back to "his" home that evening, trying to figure out what his next course of action should be. His thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the front door. "There you are, Dirk," said a pleasant looking woman, somewhere in her mid-fifties, whom Sam had instantly recognized her as Dirk's mother. "I thought you were going out onto the bay this afternoon," she said with an inquisitive tone. "I had some things to take care of," Sam said. "Oh, well, it doesn't matter. Guess what. I ran into a friend of yours today at the lookout." "A friend of mine?" Sam asked, knowing exactly where the conversation was heading. "Yes, an attractive young Naval officer." "Beth," Sam said. "I guess, I didn't quite catch her name. I invited her to dinner, but she had other plans." "I see." Sam's heart was not at all in the conversation, but for the rest of the night, he played out his role, but thinking about nothing but Beth. And Al. The next day, Sam decided to eat lunch at a little outdoor restaurant at the marina, where he happened to run into Beth. He wasn't at all surprised by the coincidence, knowing something about the divine influence that was making itself felt during this leap. Sam joined Beth at her table, feeling a little awkward at being so forward, but her not seeming to mind. The meal passed pleasantly, with pleasant conversation between them, but not once could Sam bring himself to look in her eyes. Afterwards, he and Beth went back to the bungalow. Sam knew that the bungalow was going to be the real trial. In this altered history, Trudy would be there, and might even remember him from the mental hospital in 1953. She definitely would see Sam Beckett, and not Dirk Simon. At least gender wasn't an issue this time around. As he and Beth walked up to the door, she stopped, and looked hesitantly into his eyes. "Dirk, uh, before you come in, there's something I have to tell you. It's about my sister-in-law." "What is it?" Sam asked gently, as Dirk would have done if he were there. "Well, she's..." Beth hesitated, "retarded." Her tone was not one of shame, but rather of nervousness as to how "Dirk" might react to what she had to say. Since this came as no surprise whatsoever to Sam, he simply took Beth's hand and said, "That's okay, Beth. I've been around special people before." Beth smiled and let out a sigh of relief, and opened the door. "'Special people'," she repeated. "I like that." Sam thought he saw a glimmer of something in her eyes, something that told him that this may have been the difference between himself and the real Dirk. If Dirk couldn't handle Trudy's condition, he may have called off his and Beth's relationship right then and there. But he wasn't Dirk, and if he could somehow manage to convince Beth that leaving Trudy in an institution was really the best thing to do, then perhaps the real Dirk would never have to deal with the situation, and allow his relationship with Beth to continue on its destined course. "Dirk," Beth said making the introductions, "this is my sister-in-law, Trudy. Trudy, I want you to meet a friend of mine, Dirk Simon." In Trudy, Sam saw the same innocence of the sixteen year old girl that he had left only recently, this time, however, in the body of a thirty-two year old woman. She didn't seem to recognize Sam, which wasn't really surprising considering she had last seen him sixteen years ago. Instead, she simply held out her hand and said, "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Simon." "I'm pleased to meet you, too," Sam responded in kind. With that, Trudy wandered off to the bedroom and began playing with a doll, the same one she had had in the institution. "She's a sweet woman, Beth," Sam said. "Oh, yes, she is," Beth agreed. "My husband never wanted to have children, he didn't believe in dragging them from duty station to duty station. But Trudy's been like a daughter to us, almost. Without her, I don't know what I would have done, all alone. Trudy and I have really supported each other since..." Beth's voice was starting to quiver, ever so slightly, as she stood next to the fireplace staring at Al's picture. Sam came up behind her and hugged her gently, and Beth returned the embrace. "Without having Trudy around, I think I might have lost hope. But I look into her eyes, and I see him, and I know that he's alive out there, somewhere." The tears were streaming down her face. "But what if he isn't?" Sam asked. He hated himself for saying this, but it seemed that Someone, somewhere, wanted him say it. "There's always the very real possibility that he's gone. I know it hurts to think that, but you have to face that possibility." He felt like he was lying, altough he never actually said that her husband was dead. But this was his best friend he was talking about, and he knew for a fact that he would come home alive. His stomach was twisting itself into knots. Sam had half-expected Beth to recoil and call him a liar, but she didn't. Instead, she buried her face into his shoulder and sobbed, never crying outright. After a few minutes, she pulled back, and began rubbing her eyes. "You're right," she said, regaining her composure, "but there's a part of me that has to go on believing. Otherwise I wouldn't have anyone, not Al, not Trudy." Sam backed off a little, slowly and carefully. "I'm sorry, Beth," he apologized. "I'm being really callous. I didn't mean to upset you like that." "That's okay. It's my fault, really. I shouldn't be unloading on you like this." "Don't say that. It's not your fault. This war, it's hurting everybody, not just the men over there. It hurts the people they leave behind, the people who care for them and love them. But just promise me that," he said, gently taking her shoulders, "whatever happens, you won't stop living your life." Beth took a deep breath, and wiped her eyes again. "Thank you," she said finally. Sam was about to ask what she was thanking him for when Jake, a.k.a. himself, showed up. Sam tried play out the scene as he remembered it, mumbling something about a parking ticket and leaving. He knew what was about to happen would upset Beth even more, and perhaps that would be enough to steer events back to their proper course. He hoped so. He was anxious to leap out of this whole situation. Another night was passing by. No Al, no leaping. Sam knew what was going on in the bungalow, however, or at least had a pretty good idea, and he didn't dare call Beth. That could wait until tomorrow. But not much longer. He sat around Dirk's house, nursing the same beer he had for the past hour and staring at the wall. He felt like dirt. He felt like slime. He felt like the scum that Al had accused Dirk of being. He was ashamed of what he was doing and what he was trying to do. Somehow, he had to convince his best friend's wife to abandon hope that he would come home from Vietnam. For the first time, Sam began to really appreciate, more than he even could have before, why Al had so passionately tried to change history the first time he was here, and how much Sam's refusal must have crushed him. To have to do this to anybody was bad enough, but to do it to Al, again, was almost more than he could tolerate. "Why me?" Sam asked of The Big Entity Upstairs who supposedly controlled Sam's leaps. He wanted to know why he had been chosen to play Don Quixote in a botched experiment. It wasn't fair, he thought. It wasn't fair to put this kind of a burden on anyone. In all the science fiction TV shows and movies Sam had watched as a kid, the time traveler was *never* supposed to alter the future. Now he knew why. The risks to "what was meant to be" were too great. But that didn't change his situation. The Big Entity Upstairs decided that there were deeds that must be done and Dr. Samuel Beckett, M.D., Ph.D., etc. was just the one to do it. It wasn't fair. To him, or to his best friend. At around eleven, the phone rang. Sam was surprised to hear Beth's quiet voice on the other end. "Hi Dirk. It's me, Beth." She sounded as if she had been crying. "Beth, what's wrong?" Sam asked. "I was just... well, this is going to sound stupid." "No, no, of course not," Sam said, trying to be reassuring. "I was just lonely and wanted to talk..." Her voice was barely audible. "I'll be over in five minutes," Sam said. True to his word, five minutes later he was knocking on her door. When she answered, Sam saw that once again her face was tear-stained. She immediately buried herself into his arms, and the two stood there like that for seemingly an eternity. Sam knew then that he had changed history, and things were starting to return to the way they were meant to be. "What's the matter?" he asked quietly, even though he knew the answer. "You were right," was her reply. "Right? About what?" "About Al. About going on with my life." "Beth, what are you saying?" Even though this was apparently why he was here, he couldn't help but feel that something he said or did had changed history for the drastically worse. "I don't know, Dirk. It's just, tonight, I had the feeling that he was here, saying good-bye." Sam had no answer to that. He hugged Beth, and tried to ease some of the pain she felt. He had caused this situation, and all the new hurt it caused everyone involved. He couldn't think of anything else to do. He couldn't think of anything else to say. * * * Keep Leaping... * Tracy E. Finifter + finifter@gandalf.rutgers.edu + New Brunswick, N.J. * * * * "I've got a strong urge to fly, but I got nowhere to fly to." * * -- Pink Floyd, "Nobody Home" *