Chapter Eight

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(17y) APRIL 2005, 18.00

The photo was in John's hand. Sweat shone on his nervous brow. Could he save his dad? If there was any hope he had to try it.

In the background John heard a news reporter's voice drifting up to his room from the tele downstairs. 'The Collector strikes again, and this time on the outskirts of York.'

Everything around him seemed dulled, silenced, muffled, and even the noise from the tele diminished as he focused on the photo. The irony was that John had been in this moment over and over, Blinking into this last photo of Dad hundreds of times. Now that he knew he could change time, trying to save Dad was the only thing on his mind. Fuck the old lady, fuck Acko and the Head, fuck everything in the whole world. Nothing else mattered.

'I'm coming for you Dad,' he whispered, touching the photo's clingy film one last time. Dad smiled the same smile John knew so well. Without wasting another second, John Blinked into the picture and spun down through the darkness to the film wall.

'Come on Diane, leave me alone. I'm an old man.' Dad joked on as he grabbed a triangle of toast off the kitchen table and his work jacket off the chair. With the toast in his mouth, he grinned as Mam took another photo.

'Got it!' she exclaimed, put the camera down, then flung her arms around her husband's neck. 'I love you, Dan Finnie.'

Dad moved his head back. 'Yeah. And I love toast. Back off woman.'

Just the way it always was. John stood at the kitchen window, just in case Dad or Mam spotted him. God, each time he saw this it ached deep inside him, but this time there was a fire of hope and purpose burning alongside that ache, and it made the world of difference.

'Call in sick, Dan. Call in sick, and we'll have a fun day out.'

Dad sighed, exasperated. 'I would love to Di, you know that; but this is overtime, and that means double time.'

Mam removed her arms from around his neck. 'You work too hard.' The joy had left her voice.

Dad smiled and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her. 'I work to better us, woman.'

He'd always been determined to make the best of things.

She kissed him back. 'Yeah, I know.'

Dad looked out of the window, and John ducked as fast as he could. It took a minute to get to the side of the road, and the house's door creaked open just as John reached the sidewalk. Dad left their average looking house, kissing Mam one last time at the door and throwing the jacket on as he rushed down the garden pathway to the gate.

John timed his steps: one, two, three, four. Yes, it would work perfectly. Dad struggled for a moment with his tie and adjusted his grip on the bag. Mam and his younger self stood at the door. Dad wasn't looking where he was going. Oh, god. Each time this moment caused John excruciating pain. If only Dad had looked where he was going. Dad waved at little John and Mam in their doorway and his foot touched the tarmac on the road. John could see the black Ford speeding down the road from the other side. This was the moment. In the next two seconds Dad would be a goner, had been a goner...but maybe it would change this time round.

With a deep intake of breath, John walked straight into Dad and knocked him back onto the pavement just as the Ford screeched to a stop. John knew the Ford would have braked too late, would have hit Dad so hard that he would have died, but nobody else did. The moment seemed to slow down, Dad's tie floated up, papers from his briefcase flew mid-air. Dad's face looked shocked and a bit irritated, and across the way, the bus's brakes squealed and hissed to a stop.

In the distance, John heard Mam shouting something and footsteps running down the garden path. 'S'cuse me Sir,' John mumbled and reached a hand out to help Dad up. He couldn't stay long, what if they recognised him somehow? He was their son after all. 'Are you alright?'

Dad looked at the road for a second, and the Ford's wheels screeched before it sped off. 'I...' He looked John in the eye, and John's heart thumped louder in his ears. He'd done it! 'I'm fine, thank you. I think you saved my life, kid.'

'Oh, I don't know,' John said.

Mam's footsteps were louder now, and when John looked over his shoulder he saw Mam and his younger self a bare few steps away, rushing towards Dad with earnest eyes.

'I have to go,' he said and stuffed his hands into his pockets. As quick as he could, he bolted up the road in the Ford's wake, as though he had somewhere important to be. The idea of his younger self seeing him still bothered him, though he didn't really know why.

Adrenalin pumped through his body, making his fingertips tingle where they hid in his pockets, and making the noise in his ears sound louder and less distinct. His legs felt like jelly and the thumping of his heart was loud and overbearing. Had he really done it? Had it really worked? John glanced back over his shoulder.

Near the street, Dad stood dusting himself, and Mam was bent collecting his papers. The younger version of himself stood still, staring with wide blank eyes, but not at his father or the bus. The child's eyes were riveted to him, even though he was at least fifty steps down the road. Was that good or bad? Did his young self know he was looking at himself? The Blink was such a mystery. Just when you thought you knew how it worked, something new and crazy would happen, and John hoped that he would not return from the Blink to a world gone awry because of this.

But even more than this, with the most earnestness he'd ever felt, John hoped he would return and find Dad alive and well. What would life be like if Dad hadn't died? Would they live in a nice house? Would Charlie have a life filled with more happiness, having a daddy to play with and a mam who wasn't depressed all the time? John sighed and some of the tension left him as he looked around at the streets and then up into the sky, searching for the star.

One thing was sure. If Dad was alive, everything would be better. A smile crept onto John's lips and the full realisation of what he'd just done sank in at last. Dad was alive! But what if it hadn't worked? What if the Blink was faulty? What if the universe had some kind of auto-correct? What if Dad died anyways on another day; one he didn't have a photo of? Could John cheat death forever? The short-lived joy he'd felt was quenched with a sour nervousness in the pit of his stomach. Time to leave the Blink and find out what he'd done and if it was good or bad.

#

'Dad?'

John dropped the photo and bolted to the tele room, hoping to god they still lived in the same house. 'Six-year-old Lucy Jenkins went missing around four PM yesterday afternoon, and neighbours reported seeing a Ford...' The news was still on. That was a good sign.

'Dad?'

'What is it Johnnie boy?' Dad sat laid back on the couch, one socked foot resting on the coffee table, remote in hand. 'I'm watching the news. Can it wait?'

'Dad!' Unable to hold back, John leapt onto the couch and grabbed his father's shoulders, hugging him for the first time in seven years. He'd actually done it! This was crazy. Yesterday Dad had been dead, and now he was sitting here talking as if nothing had happened. 'Oh, Dad. It's so good to see you.' John's voice quavered. 'I...I missed you so much.' He bit back the tears though they burned in his eyes.

'Son, what do you mean? You just saw me a few minutes ago...' Dad frowned, cupped John's cheek in his hand. 'Are you alright? Do you have a headache?'

'No, I'm fine Dad. Really. Perfect actually. Never been better.' John's happy tears turned into laughter that threatened to bubble from him, and it felt strange trying to hold it in. With his arms still around his father's neck and his eyes wet in the corners, he let a little laugh out, and it felt so good. Life was good. Dad was alive. Everything was perfect, and it was all thanks to the Blink.

'Okay John, if you're really that happy to see me then sit here next to me on the couch, 'cause you're blocking my view. This thing's pretty close to home, ya know.'

'Sure Dad.'

Dad wrapped his arm around John, and John lay his head against his dad's shoulder. The news reporter rambled on about sport and safety precautions families should take, but John ignored the tele and watched Dad's face with wonder in his eyes.



© Steve Ford & Joy Cronjé 2018



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