Not a Second Time -COMPLETED-

Beautiful Day

Beautiful Day

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It's a beautiful day

To let it get away

~Beautiful Day, U2

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Meridian Mall:

Buddy jumped with a start. His pocket was buzzing. He pulled out a strange looking device and almost by accident pushed ‘answer’.

“Is this Buddy?” asked a crackly voice he didn’t recognize.

“Yes,” said Buddy warily.

“Oh, so is that how that thing works?” asked somebody in the background. There was a fumbling sound and then a breathless, “Buddy, are you okay? Are any of the others with you?”

It was Ali.

Buddy sighed with relief, “Thank goodness,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “Ali, I have no idea where I am. No one is with me. What’s going on?”

“We don’t know yet,” said Ali, “No one knows. So neither Beethoven nor Elvis are with you?”

“No,” said Buddy. “So are John and that boy with you?”

“Yes,” answered Ali, “I grabbed both of them when that strange thing started happening. We’re all okay and in some side street somewhere.”

Buddy glanced around at the smooth tile floors, the glittering fountain, and various storefronts all collected under a glass dome, “I’m in a mall,” he said. He’d figured that out by a ‘you-are-here’ sign. “The house separated us on purpose. That means we need to find our way back together.”

“To do that, we need to find Elvis and Beethoven,” said Ali, sounding suddenly worried. “Oh, Beethoven will have no idea how to work this gadget.”

“Cellphone,” put in a voice helpfully from somewhere behind her.

“You try and call them,” said Buddy. “Tell me what street you’re on. Hopefully we’re in the same state.”

“I’ll be glad if we’re in the same country,” murmured Ali. “I’ll call you back when we figure that out.”

Buddy looked one more time around his strange surroundings. “Okay,” he said.

She hung up. He slipped the cellphone back in his pocket and began to look for an exit.

There was no real searching, though. Buddy simply wandered, brooding on his thoughts. He had held out hope ever since he could remember coming to the house. He had always believed he’d see Maria again.

He’d hated that place with everything he had, and, if he was going to admit it, Buddy had known he would never escape of his own violation.

Now here he was, in an unknown time period, with absolutely no clue where he was or what he was going to do. And he couldn’t care less.

Buddy was numb. He could never, ever see Maria again. Even if she was still alive, she would never believe he was himself, and that he had never truly died. All his futile hopes were crushed.

He could still remember the voice that had spoken to him just a short time after he had arrived at the house.

She’s dead.

Those words had held more agonizing pain than anything else.

She was never born.

Maria had miscarried, and he hadn’t been there for her. He hadn’t been there to support her or to grieve with her. She had to go through that alone, without him. He was supposed to have been there.