Fifteen Years of Cycle
Chapter 1
For the better part of a decade, Jake and I were locked in this toxic dance. He’d flaunt his feelings for his high school sweetheart, like, everywhere, while I stubbornly clung to the title of his wife, just to spite him.
Then, our whiz-kid son, Alex, who’s only fifteen, invents a freakin’ time machine. And he’s begging me to let Jake and Sarah get together.
“Mom,” he cries, “just let Dad be happy. Sarah deserves him.”
I ruffled Alex’s hair. “Are you sure? If we go back, you might not even exist.”
“Sarah’s worth it,” he insisted.
If that’s what he truly wanted, who was I to stand in the way?
Jake just scoffed. “Don’t come crawling back to me when you regret this, Karen.”
I wouldn’t.
Because the whole reason I even married Jake in the first place… was to save my original husband and son.
…
So, Alex is there, practically vibrating with anticipation, as I dial Jake’s number.
A woman answers. “Jake’s in the shower. Can I take a message?”
I knew that voice. It was Sarah. “Just tell him it’s about the divorce. The sooner the better, so you can finally be Mrs. Harrison.”
Sarah starts sniffling. “Karen, I never meant for…”
“Save the act. If Jake isn’t here in twenty minutes, I might change my mind.”
It worked. Slamming doors echoed up the stairs, and then Jake, dripping wet and furious, was standing in front of me.
“What did you say to Sarah? She was practically in hysterics!”
I just smirked. “That’s my girl. Maybe next time I’ll slap her, see if she can cry herself back to life.”
“You’re impossible.” He turned to leave.
“Jake,” I called out, “I’m letting you go.”
He froze, then slowly turned around.
His cold eyes scanned me up and down, ending with a dismissive smirk. “Karen, are you on something?”
“Alex built a time machine. We’re going back fifteen years, pretending we never met.”
Alex chimed in, eager as ever. “Dad, I’ll set the date right before your wedding! Then you can finally marry Sarah!”
Jake frowned, staring at me.
“What about your son? Don’t you want him anymore?”
I practically raised Alex. Jake wasn’t half the parent I was.
When he was little, he got sick all the time, coughing his lungs out every night. I’d call in sick to work, cradling him and soothing him until he finally fell asleep.
He had a sensitive stomach, so I rarely let him eat junk food. I’d make him homemade, healthy meals.
He’d always beam, saying, “You’re the best, Mom!”
But after Sarah showed up, he started looking at me with disdain.
“Mom, why can’t you be like Sarah? She’s so classy and elegant. You’re always at the hospital or cooking, like some housewife.
“No wonder Dad doesn’t love you. He never takes you anywhere.”
He and his dad had the same obsession with Sarah, fawning over her like she was a goddess.
I was the unwanted interloper, the third wheel everyone hated.
I didn’t feel the sting anymore. I said calmly, “He’d rather make you happy than exist. He doesn’t mind. Neither do I.”
Jake let out a short, harsh laugh.
“Karen, if this is real, don’t come crawling back to me. Got it?”
I gave him a small smile. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Jake, Alex, and I piled into the time machine.
“Once I calibrate everything,” Alex says, “you’ll be back in 2008! Dad, this time, don’t settle! Marry Sarah!”
“Sarah’s so kind. She’s way better than Mom!”
He said it with such conviction, such longing.
I looked at his eager face and couldn’t help but smile.
I just hoped he wouldn’t regret it.
The moment I hit the ‘go’ button, the world outside turned into a blinding white light, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
I felt someone touch my hand, but it didn’t matter.
As long as I got back to 2008, it was a clean slate.
I opened my eyes, and I was standing at a beat-up old bus stop.
The bus stop sign looked like it was straight out of 2008. I glanced around, and everything was exactly as I remembered.
Jake was gone, but Alex was sitting on a nearby bench.
He looked shocked to see me, wondering if the time machine had failed. But when he saw the date displayed on his smartwatch, he pumped his fist. “It worked!”
“But how come I didn’t disappear?”
“Dad will be with Sarah, so I won’t disappear! Am I Sarah’s kid now? Oh no, I should call her Mom now!”
The truth was Alex wasn’t my biological son.
I just happened to take care of this kid who was abandoned by his mother, for the past fifteen years.
I pulled out a sticky note, wrote down my number, and gave it to him.
“Here’s my number. If you need anything, call me.”
Alex sneered. “You’re not my real mom. And you hogged my mom’s spot for fifteen years. I hate you. I don’t need your help! My dad will be with my real mom. We’ll never see each other again!”
I watched Alex walk away, feeling a sense of relief.
Good. He was never supposed to be a part of my life, anyway.
My phone buzzed in my purse.
I looked down. My lock screen was a photo of a fireworks-lit night sky, with a young man in a thin sweater warming the hands of a girl in a black coat.
That scene, from fifteen years from now, was in my dreams every New Year’s Eve, only to be replaced by the harsh reality and tear-stained pillow in the morning.
The caller ID read: Chris.
It was like a sudden rain after a long drought. My eyes welled up, my hands shaking as I pressed the answer button.
The call connected, and I held it to my ear, listening to the voice I’d waited fifteen years to hear, as if it were a verdict.
“Hey, Dr. Karen, everyone said my cookies weren’t sweet enough. Do you think you could swing by after work and give them a look?”
The funny, witty tone was the same. Before, I’d have laughed and called him cheesy. Now, my throat tightened, and a thousand words choked me.
He was always perceptive. He picked up on my distress and asked, a hint of panic in his voice, “Karen, what’s wrong? Where are you? I’ll come get you.”
I forced myself to calm down. “Nothing, just got something in my eye. I’ll get off work on time today, just be good for me.”
He finally relaxed, sounding happy. “Yes, ma’am!”
I hung up, my heart pounding.
Fifteen years ago, I got the same phone call.
I turned Chris down, because I had to work late.
That night, the cops called. There had been a car accident near the hospital. A father and son were killed.
The officer handed me a little wooden box. “We found this in the passenger seat. I’m sorry for your loss.”
I pressed the button, and the lid popped open. On top was a card, written in a childish scrawl: “Happy Thanksgiving, Mom! Dad’s cookies are delicious! Enjoy!”
The cookies were still warm. But the person who made them was gone.
My husband and son… died on their way to the hospital to spend the holiday with me.
The grief was unbearable. I was shattered.
I wanted to end it all, to jump into the ocean. And then, a cold, robotic voice spoke up.
It said: Marrying Jake will bring your husband and son back to life.
I found a sliver of hope in the darkness. But fifteen years went by, and nothing changed.
Then Alex invented the time machine, and I knew it was time for me to finally reunite with my family.
I opened the door to the apartment I hadn’t seen in fifteen years, my eyes blurry. I crept into the living room, afraid of shattering this dream.
In the kitchen, I saw two figures, focused on the oven.
“Dad, are they ready yet? I’m hungry.”
“Five more minutes. Just wait. Maybe Mom will be home soon.”
Yeah, I was home. Most important, they were here, and I wasn’t alone anymore.
I really had gotten them back.
My grip loosened, and my purse hit the floor. They both turned around.
Chris scooped up my son from the stool and walked toward me, holding his hand.
“Hey, Dr. Karen’s home.”
“Yeah, I’m home,” I said, fighting back tears. I knelt down and hugged my son. “What did Chris make you?”
He pouted. “Dad only made me four chocolate chip ones, and all the rest are snickerdoodle ones for Mom.”
Chris sighed.
“You’re telling on me after I just cheered you up. You know Dr. Karen works hard all the time. I just made a bunch she likes.”
My heart soared, and I tugged on the hem of Chris’ shirt. “Thanks, Chris.”
“Ding!” The oven timer went off, and Chris went into the kitchen.
“You must be tired. I made tea for you.”
My family was together, happy and well.
There was no longer an empty void below, and the sounds of children’s laughter could be heard everywhere.
In my hands, I had a cup of lukewarm tea. On the soft cushion beside me, my son was dozing off. And behind me, my husband held me tight, loving me with all his heart.
Suddenly, I started crying, unable to help myself. Chris handed me a tissue. “Who made my Karen cry?”
I looked up at Chris through my tear-filled eyes, his shaggy hair falling across his forehead, a warm light in his eyes.
I said the most cliché thing I could think of. “Chris, I missed you so much.”
His ears visibly turned pink.
He held me tighter, whispering in my ear, “Funny, me too.”
Back in 2008, I cherished every day. Those fifteen years felt like a bad dream, fading with each passing moment.
More than half a year had passed since our return, and today was my son’s birthday. I took him to the science fair he’d been looking forward to.
In the hall for the winner of the student group, a homemade rocket captivated my son. I told him to wait for me where he was, while I went to get him ice cream.
While I was waiting for the ice cream, the noise of the hall started to grow.
“Unbelievable, there are two kids fighting!”
“It’s just someone being unilaterally abused. You can tell the two of them are clearly very different.”
Amid the noise, I heard my son’s voice: “What are you doing stealing my things?”
I rushed back, pushing my way through the crowd, and I saw my son lying on the ground. He was underneath an older kid, who was pulling on his backpack.
Obviously, my son couldn’t win, but he was holding on tight to a shoulder strap of the bag.
“Alex!” I rushed over, anxiously picking up my son. He let go of the bag. The other kid was caught off guard and ended up falling down.
My son’s face was red, and I knew he must’ve been holding on tight.
When he saw me, he was finally unable to hold back his tears.
“Mom, he’s trying to steal my backpack! It’s the one you got me!”
I examined my son to make sure that he wasn’t injured, and I finally breathed a sigh of relief, gently patting his back.
“It’s okay, I can get you another one.”
I saw the kid’s headphones fall off; they were a very expensive brand.
And looking at the kid’s designer outfit and his fancy accessories, he didn’t seem like he was trying to steal anything.
I pulled my son behind me, and I asked him, “Where are your parents? Why are you stealing my son’s bag?”
The kid didn’t say anything with his head bowed, and I tried to suppress my anger, getting the bag back.
My son wasn’t hurt, the other kid’s parents weren’t around, and I didn’t want to make things difficult for a kid who seemed to be in his teens.
As I took my son by the hand to leave, the kid suddenly said, sounding very wronged:
“Mom, I got hurt too. Aren’t you going to look at my injuries?”
