Lost in Time(111)

Adeline put a hand on his shoulder. “And say what you wish you had said when he was alive—the words you’ve held inside all these years.”

Elliott swallowed and nodded.

Adeline knew that what came next would be a sort of surgical operation—performed with words. Elliott knew his son was sick. In the next room, he was lying on the table, waiting for the conversation that would save him and set him on a new path.

When Elliott opened the bedroom door, the Weezer song was winding down, and Charlie’s voice rang out. “Hey!”

“Charlie—”

“How’d you get in here? You broke into my apartment!”

“I just want to talk—”

“Get out! Get. Out.”

“Son, listen to me. Please.”

“I’m calling the cops.”

“We both know you’re not going to do that. And I know something else. I know that if you stick that needle in your arm, it will be the last thing you ever do. You won’t get high, Charlie. What’s in there will take everything from you. I know you’ve already had a lot tonight. You can’t take any more.”

“How… What—”

“I’m asking you to trust me. If you don’t, it’ll be the last thing you ever do. I promise you, Charlie. I know it seems like you can never get away from your troubles, that they’re always in your mind. You’ve self-medicated, and you’ve tried to get clean, and what you’re holding now is the only thing that’s ever made you feel any better. But only for a short time. There’s a better way, son. I’m asking you to give me five minutes to show you. That’s all.”

Another song started up, “18 and Life” by Skid Row. The opening chords partially blotted out the voices, but through the din, Elliott’s voice broke through, filled with emotion, cracking.

“I can’t imagine.”

A second later, he said, “Put it down, Charlie. Please.”

As she waited, Adeline’s heart pounded in her chest. Every second felt like an eternity. She felt tears well in her eyes as the door opened.

Elliott came into view. He was crying too, the tears flowing down his face.

The door swung wider, and Charlie was standing there. His black hair was greasy and stringy. He was rail-thin, cheeks gaunt, eyes sunken. But he was alive.

“Who are you?”

“Charlie,” Elliott said slowly, “this is Adeline Anderson.”

He shook his head. “No way. Adeline Anderson is like thirteen years old.”

“Not anymore,” Elliott said, staring at her. “She’s all grown up now. And she’s the reason I’m here.”

Adeline held out her hands as Charlie had done so many years ago at one of her birthday parties and repeated the words he had said to her: “Want to fly?”

He squinted, and Adeline was surprised when he recited the line she had said back. “Will it make me dizzy?”

“Yes. But you’ll like it.”

Charlie held out his pale, bone-thin hands, and Adeline put a recall ring around his wrist.

“We’re going to take a trip,” Adeline said. “Your dad will join us soon.”

“Remind me again,” Elliott said, “what should I tell her?”

“That she can never speak of seeing you here—until we all meet at Nora’s house. She’ll know when. And when that time comes, to tell you that everything is going to be all right.”

Adeline gripped Charlie’s hands and reached a finger over to press the button on the recall ring. Elliott was already unzipping the body bag as the room disappeared.





SEVENTY-NINE


Charlie was given his own bungalow by the sea. In those first few weeks, he kept to himself, but Adeline knew from her conversations with Elliott that the time had been difficult. Hana went to see him daily and did everything she could—medically—to help with the withdrawal symptoms. But the true fight was in his own mind.

He got worse for a time, and then, slowly, he got better.

In a way, that was the island’s ultimate power: it used time to heal.

Elliott and his wife, Claire, lived next door to Charlie, and while they gave him his space, they were also there for him, waiting, hoping that they would become a family again.

Adeline watched as her father and Nora grew closer than they ever had been in Palo Alto or Absolom City. They shared a bungalow with a small garden behind it. They home-schooled Ryan for now, until a proper school could be established.

Adeline’s brother had taken up surfing and spent most days exploring the island.

It was the transformation in Hiro that surprised her the most. For the first time since Adeline had known him, Hiro was happy. Like Charlie, it seemed that time on the island was chasing his demons away. It seemed that his addiction had finally released him.

One morning, Adeline was sitting in Hiro’s office, sipping coffee, when she said, “How accurate are your Absolom arrival calculations?”

The physicist snorted. “Can’t believe you’d even ask me that.”

“Can you hit a moving target?”

Hiro squinted. “Of course. The Earth is a moving target.”

Adeline cocked her head, confused.

“Our planet is constantly moving through space,” Hiro said. “If you go back in time even a fraction of a second, Earth is not where it was when you left.”