Written January 1, 2020

The air was filled with sterile fluorescent lighting, the smell of hamburgers, and the incoherent murmur of people going about their lives. Each of them were in their own little universe, unaware of the eternal connections they had with each other.

At times, James could catch fragments of conversations as they walked by. 

“Honey, I told you that I turned it off! Why in the world—”

“I don’t know about that, Jeff. We already took a big risk with the Penn deal, and—”

“You shut up! Oh, ok. I see how it is. You think—”

“Ok, love you sweetheart. Mommy’ll be right there next to you in just—”

It was as if he was above the ground, higher than the airplanes that took off and landed as easily as people lived and died. He was suspended from a height that was pure and spiritual. When he immersed himself in the daily chatter of the people around him, he was in a meditative state.

In order for many people to be together at once, they have to be in a place that brings them farther apart. An airport, thought James.

He was sitting across from an eatery at his gate. Whenever in a crowded setting, James  instinctively took to studying people. Usually, there would be someone that he noticed because of their countenance, posture, or manner of speaking. 

There was a family sitting at one of the grimy plastic tables against the wall facing James. His line of sight was sporadic, but for the most part their actions were clear. 

It was a family of three. The parents were young, perhaps in their early to mid-thirties. They had a toddler—a girl—who, if it was not for her moving, could be mistaken for a cherub. She had little bouncing ringlets that framed her glowing face. Her eyes resembled her mother’s. James could see from a distance that the mother was beautiful in the kind way, everything sweet and generous, her lips always forming a knowing smile. The man seemed visibly happy. He was radiant, and for a brief moment James envied him.

James watched as the family laughed in unison. The man put his arm around the woman’s shoulder and kissed her. They smiled at each other, sharing a look that spoke of a love forged in the heart of the universe.

Then, something very strange happened. James blinked, and the man was sitting alone. His face looked five years older, and the radiance was gone. His eyes were dull and he wore a morose expression. He looked empty, as if he had nothing to live for. He was a shell. A sallow sack of flesh and bones.

James was awestruck. Had his eyes seen something that was not really there? Were they doing so now? He shook his head vigorously as if to rattle the contents of his mind and make sense of things that way. James opened his eyes again and looked at the man. He was most certainly sitting alone.

James scrambled out of his seat with his baggage and began walking briskly towards the man. He stood in front of him without speaking for some time. The man either did not care that he was there or had not noticed him.

James cleared his throat. At painstaking pace, the man lifted his eyes to see what made the sound. Never had James felt as transparent as when the man stared through him. This is the same man who laughed only a few minutes ago? Who kissed his wife and was so full of joy and life? James could not believe it. But there was no question that this man was the same one with the wife and daughter, if only a sadder version.

“Hello, sir.”

Silence. The man sat back in his chair and narrowed his eyes.

“May I sit down?” James’s voice was shuddering imperceptibly.

The man still said nothing, but instead lifted a bony hand to the empty chair in front of him.

“Thanks.” James sat. The man was staring at him, and this made James extremely uneasy. He looked around the airport, partly to gauge whether anything else had changed, partly to avoid looking at the man. If you can even call him that, James thought.

The man leaned forward and placed his forearms on the plastic table. He had a tall glass of water before him, which he proceeded to sip.

“So,” said the man. His voice was, to James’s surprise, very strong and clear.

James did not know what to do, so he cleared his throat again.

“I think you came over for a reason. Or am I mistaken?”

“Uh, no. No, you’re not mistaken.”

“Because if you just want to sit, that’s fine with me.”

“No. I did come over for a reason. I wanted to tell you something.” James shifted in his chair. It was uncomfortable and cold. He waited for an affirmation, but the man seemed to be waiting for James to continue.

“Alright” James clasped his hands in his lap, then unclasped them and placed his clammy palms on the table. “This is going to sound very strange. Please expect to be a bit thrown off guard.”

The man’s brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

“I was sitting right over there,” James pointed behind him at the seat he left, “And saw you sitting here.” James raised his eyebrows, looking for a welcoming sign in the man’s face that could encourage him to continue. He saw nothing. “With a woman and a little girl.” 

James did not want to continue. Why was he doing this, anyway? The man was not anyone he knew or cared about. James had no idea what he saw, or if he even saw it. But some force was pushing him forward. He needed to continue. It was as if his entire life depended on the outcome of this moment.

“I’m assuming they are your wife and daughter. You laughed. You kissed the woman. You were…well…you were happy.” James had half a mind to close his eyes and spare himself the embarrassment of seeing the man’s pure astonishment. He moved his jaw without making any utterances. “Am I insane?” James asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so mister. I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Do you need help? Like, mental help?”

James rubbed his eyes and massaged his temples. “I swear to whatever is up there playing tricks on my mind that you were sitting here with a wife and a kid. You were laughing. I swear to it. I don’t know what happened.”

“Me neither. I don’t know what happened either.” The man ran his fingers through his black hair. “Well, I’ll give you one thing. You warned me that what you were going to say would throw me off.”

The men looked at each other for an amount of time that neither of them kept track of. Finally, James spoke. “Where are you headed?”

“New York City.”

“Me too.” James nodded for no reason.

“What do you do?”

“I’m in advertising.”

“No way.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m in advertising,” the man said.

“Interesting,” James mumbled. 

“I’d say so. How’s business?”

“It’s booming.”

“Wow. Not for me.” The man smiled wanly.

“Where do you work?”

“Gazelle.”

James smiled for a flashing instant. “So do I. Seems like we have a lot in common.” His smile faded and morphed into a deep frown. He spoke after a festering silence. “You never said whether what I saw was true.” His voice was poisonous.

The man laughed incredulously. “Seriously?”

James’s expression was stone cold. “I’m dead serious.”

The man’s smile faded. “It may have been true. Be true. At some point in time. Past, present, future.”

“What do you mean at some point in time? What happened? Where’s your wife and daughter?”

“They’re gone, James. They left you. You’ll see in due time. You don’t know anything yet.”

“What? What do you mean? Stop speaking in riddles!” James stopped abruptly. “Wait a minute. I never told you my name.” He looked into the man’s insipid eyes. James’s own eyes were frantic. He leaned forward and clutched the man’s collar. A droplet of sweat emerged from his hairline. “What is your name?” James seethed.

“James?” There was a voice in front of him. A woman’s voice. James looked up. His wife was standing a few feet away from the table, a concerned look on her face. Her hand was grasping his baby girl’s, who was busy playing with a toy pony, utterly oblivious to the conflicts of reality. The world was coddling her with tenderness, carrying her in a swaddle of gullibility.

James looked at the seat in front of him. It was empty, and his hand was turning white from being clenched so tightly. He was not holding the man by his collar. He was not holding anything. He sat back in his chair, realizing what had happened. James had seen his future self. Two of them. Two paths he could take. One of happiness, and one of rot. He had not recognized those selves or his wife and child because, for those few moments, he was an observer of his own life, as if his soul was separated from his body.

James was frightened by the fragility. If he was careless, if he trembled from nervousness, his life would smash like crystal. He became overwhelmed with versions of himself. He pictured thousands of mistakes, millions of hours wasted, left to burn in a pit of dark oblivion.

He looked out of the window for an omen, an answer, a reassurance. But all he saw were silvery clouds being pushed along by the wind.

Fractured Alternatives © Safira Schiowitz