Read Online Time Flying by Dan Garmen - Free Book Online

but almost never recognized for it. She never seemed to have anything to prove to anyone and in all the years she worked for us, maintaining our household and taking care of my sister, she never displayed her ample supply of knowledge unless prompted to. Seeing her again, I was ashamed for not knowing what had become of her after I left home. A couple years later, she left my family’s employ.
    'Hello, young Mr Ricardo,' Thelma said, greeting me with the name she alone used for me. It had been so long since I had heard those words, I couldn't help a small smile and the quick warmth and throat tightening remembering long-forgotten things brought. Then, I remembered at the time, I had hated her calling me Ricardo, as I had hated most things, thanks to my mental outlook in 1976.
    “Hi Thelma, hi Katie,” I said as I bent to kiss my little sister on the top of her head. I looked up to see Thelma looking at me through narrowed eyes.
    “How was school today?” Thelma asked, looking back down at her ironing. Katie had returned to her book.
    “A strange day, Thelma,” I replied, and left.
    Later, lying on my bed unconsciously rubbing my thigh, hurting again and I heard my mother come into the house, the front door closing, keys being deposited on the table in the entryway and the sound of her footsteps echoing down the stairs. A few minutes later, Thelma's heavier footsteps came back the same way, a she approached my room and knocked.
    “Richard, you in here?” She asked.
    “Yea, Thelma, come in,” I said as I sat up, swinging my feet to the floor.
    Door opened. “How you doin’, young man?” Thelma asked, her voice hushed. The question wasn’t rhetorical. She was looking for an answer.
    “I’m fine,” I said, smiling.
    “I may have born at night, boy, but it wasn't last night.”
    Why could I almost always bullshit my parents, but never Thelma?
    My smile faded. For some reason I don't understand, only that it seemed like the right thing to do, I paused a heartbeat and said, “I’m 47 years old, Thelma. At least I was when I woke up this morning. I had a car accident, and woke up again here this morning. For me, this is all 30 years in the past.”
    A smile I doubt touched my eyes accompanied my words.
    Thelma looked at me with the same narrowed gaze she used earlier. “30 years, huh? You got any kids?”
    The question startled me. “One, a little girl,” I replied.
    “Where do you live?”
    “San Diego.”
    She laughed a short bark-like laugh. “I thought so. Well, at least you got out of this town,” Thelma said, nodding her approval, “Good for you.”
    I lightened up at this point. “You making fun of me” I asked.
    “Me?” Thelma replied, her eyebrows raised in mock innocence. “When did I ever make fun of you, boy?” He smiled widened as she added, “Never!”
    “Always,” I insisted, laughing. “You constantly made fun of me.”
    “MADE fun of you? You mean MAKE fun of you, don't you?” She asked.
    Not sure where this was going, I kept my mouth shut.
    “Why do you think you're back here?” Thelma broke the silence after a few seconds. I couldn't believe she was treating this as not only real, but common...Ordinary.
    “Haven't the foggiest idea,” I said.
    “Maybe you got something to do you didn't do the first time. Something left undone. What would that be, Rich?”
    Thelma called me “Ricardo,” or “Richard,” or “child” but never “Rich.” I shrugged. “I guess. Probably more things I wouldn’t do, given a second chance, but…”
    “And you’re thinking you're dead, too. Right? You said you had a crash?”
    I nodded. “Yup, I think that is the best bet, especially with you and I having this conversation.”
    Thelma frowned, shaking her head. “No, you're not dead, child, you're alive. You're just living in the past right now. It happens sometimes.”
    I nodded, silent. Just when I thought this couldn’t get any weirder.
    “And by the way,” she continued.