Wibbly Wobbly Timey Timey
August 19, 2007
The next week goes by in a blur. That’s the sort of metaphor people use when their perception of time is a little off, maybe because everything is just so great or so busy. So no, time did not really go by in a blur. But I’m holding my breath for the time when it does, because it’s clear that my perception of time is more than a little off and that sort of thing is bound to happen to me at some point.
I decided to dive head first into figuring all this out. That meant doing a lot of research. I know, I don’t seem like the smart, researching type. I think we’ve already covered the fact that I talk a lot of crazy nonsense as a sort of diversion. A way of hiding all the truth I didn’t want to let out. A way of dealing with how genuinely shy and paranoid I am about everyone. So, don’t judge a book by its cover. I may not be a rocket scientist, but in the past week I’ve learned a hell of a lot about time travel.
I don’t remember the last time I went to a library, but they didn’t really have much that helped me. I picked up a few science fiction books that seemed to feature time travel in their plots. Then I went online. I’m sure a lot of what I found was just conspiracy theories by total lunatics, but there are a surprising amount of scientists studying this kind of shit. I understood less than half of what they had to say. When I worked my way through all of that, I flipped on the SciFi channel and tried to veg out a bit.
So, here’s what I’ve learned and theorized.
The first issue that anyone mentions is the paradoxes. I can’t even begin to understand the science behind whether those exist or not. Basically, it’s that age old question about going back in time and killing your grandfather. The general consensus, as far as I can tell, is that some things either have to happen or can never happen. Whatever action a person were to take, if they actually traveled back in time, would not change those things. What must happen, will. What can’t happen, won’t.
Then there’s the debate over just how time travel could actually be achieved. From a scientific standpoint, it would take a lot of energy. Maybe more energy than one individual, even with the help of some sort of machine, could ever generate. Thus, it’s impossible. For obvious reasons, I’m dismissing this theory. From a fictional standpoint, there are two theories. First, you’ve got time machines, which come in a surprising variety of shapes and sizes. Clearly, I didn’t use one to get here and I’ve got no clue how to build one to get back. My car might be pretty and fast, but it’s no DeLorean.
The last theory — the one I like best — is the idea that some traumatic event can cause time travel. You see this one all the time in books and movies; it’s not just time travel, it’s parallel universes, too, which is why it interests me so much. But, here’s the problem. Taylor’s death happened while I was… wherever I was. That’s arguably the most traumatic thing, yet it was my wedding that seemed to push me forward in time. It’s a good theory, but it seems to fall apart when I try to apply it to my situation.
So, let’s forget about time travel for a minute and just talk about time. I’ve got my own theory here and it is hardly scientific at all, but just go with it. I’m a musician, not a scientist.
Time isn’t linear. Everything that has happened, is happening, will happen, might happen – it all exists in space somewhere. All these moments in time are just kind of floating around, waiting to arrange themselves in the right order – whatever the right order is, which isn’t a fixed thing. Because, like most things we humans like to think aren’t sentient, time is smart. Time knows what it’s doing. It knows what has to happen and what can never happen. With or without our intervention, it’ll end up arranging itself in an order that works.
But what if it doesn’t? What could cause it to stop happening in the order that makes sense to us?
That’s where I come back to that traumatic event thing. If time isn’t linear, then those two big events – my wedding and Taylor’s death – are enough, in their non-linear combination, to throw my own personal timeline all out of whack.
Now, I’m not narcissistic enough to think that my life and my choices could cause all of time to stop working as it always has. I’m just a tiny little ripple on the water. Hang on tight folks, I’m bringing another metaphor into the mix. I might just be a tiny little ripple, but every pebble dropped in the water, no matter how small, creates waves. Those ripples echo outward and outward, maybe losing strength as they go, but they still have an effect.
So, for now, it’s just my timeline. But it doesn’t affect just me – my marriage is over, my band is over, my family is fractured. Ripples. What if the ripples keep multiplying, until everything is collapsing?
I don’t know if time is trying to tell me that I’ve ruined everything by being with Taylor, or what. You’d think, if that were the case, it might have intervened when we were still teenagers in a hotel bed. But it didn’t. Time waited until I made the choice that could really change everything – getting married. Here I am, getting narcissistic again, but all my theories lead me back to the idea that the universe is out of whack because I don’t have Taylor anymore.
But none of that theorizing really leads me to a solution. The only thing I can think of is that, somehow, I have to undo the tragedies and traumas. I’m just not sure how. Somehow, I don’t think divorcing Kate is going to solve the problem, but it’s happening whether I want it to or not.
And I can’t very well un-wreck Taylor’s car, can I?
But I can go to the place where it happened. I may not have been there, and I may not have any memory of the accident, but what if seeing it triggers something? It’s worth a shot, I think. So I call the only person I trust to help me through this – Isaac. He’s going to get tired of my crazy bullshit soon, and I’m going to milk it for all I can until he does.
He picks up on the third ring. “Zac.”
“I’m going to ask you for something totally insane. And then I’m going to beg and whine and possibly scream and cry until you do it,” I say. “But, umm, it’s not bad or anything.”
“That’s reassuring. As long as it doesn’t involve gay sex, you know I’m probably going to agree to it.”
I laugh. “I know. That’s why I called you. Well, that and your wonderful sense of humor.”
“Just get to the point, Zac.” The words are harsh, but his voice isn’t. Somehow, he’s still humoring me. If I thought saints were anything other than Catholic bullshit, I’d put Isaac’s name on the list.
“Take me to where Taylor died.”
It’s the first time I’ve said that word out loud. I’m getting better at thinking it without completely breaking down, but this is the first time I’ve opened my mouth and actually let that word out. It’s a step, but I’m not sure in what direction.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll be there in ten.”
There’s hardly any hesitation in his voice. That’s good. He probably knew this was coming. If I were just suffering a normal, grief-stricken sort of memory loss, visiting the accident site would probably still be at the top of my To Do List. Honestly, I don’t know what I’m expecting from it. Or what Isaac thinks I’m expecting from it. I guess we’ll figure all that out when we get there.
True to his Hanson genes, he doesn’t actually arrive at my house for closer to twenty minutes. I wouldn’t have expected anything more punctual than that. Still, I’m standing on the front steps waiting when he gets there. If I’ve got to do this, and I really think I do, I can’t be a coward about it. I’ve got to face my demons head on.
He doesn’t talk a lot on the drive there. Just some small talk about how his new baby – I don’t even know what they named him – is doing. I don’t ask, for fear of looking like a total idiot. On the other hand, maybe all the constant questions are helping Ike to believe that my memory really is gone. Either way, he’s having fun just talking away, so I don’t want to interrupt that. We need some normalcy and happiness. Anything to forget what we’re driving toward.
He hasn’t told me what road this happened on, so I’m a little surprised when we turn down one that I know all too well. Taylor and I had a bad habit of speaking away down this road after late nights at the office. But I hadn’t been with him that night, had I? We left the office separately. That’s what Isaac said.
More and more, I’m finding little things that just don’t make sense. Things that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up, even though I can’t explain why. I just know something else is wrong. More ripples.
“Are you okay?” Isaac looks over at me and out of the corner of eyes I can see the concern in his.
I realize I’ve got a death grip on his leather seats, practically digging my fingernails into them. Under any other circumstances, he would probably yell at me for that. But not right now. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just… nervous, I guess.”
He doesn’t need to know the details of why this is scaring me shitless. He doesn’t need to know about the late nights in my car or Taylor’s, stopping at the wide spot in the shoulder not too far from where we are right now. He doesn’t need to know about hands down pants, bodies covered in each others’ sweat, or steam on the windshield.
“Okay. Well, we’re almost there. So… just get ready, I guess.”
I nod my head. Inside, I’m a mess. I know I’m only yards away from a place where Taylor and I made love a million times, and, at the same time, yards away from the place that took him from me. I see the latter before we reach it. There’s no way I could miss it. The tree has been cleaned up and cleared out, more or less, but the jagged trunk still remains, just beyond the mangled guardrail. And all along the guardrail are dozens, hundreds, of flowers. Some of them are weathered and losing their color, but others are brand new.
It’s a shrine to Taylor, I realize. We pull off the road and I can see the entire scene. There are photos of him – personal ones and glossy magazine shots all mixed together. Stuffed animals. All manner of Hanson merch, which I find a bit weird. But I guess people want this spot to be remembered. It may not be his final resting place, but it’s an important place to so many people now. Not just me.
That realization is like a punch in the gut. I may be the only one hurting the way I’m hurting, but his death doesn’t only affect me.
I don’t know what I wanted to prove by coming here. I can’t even force myself to unbuckle the seat belt and step out of the car. Isaac already has, and he’s standing a few feet from the car, waiting for me. He’s so patient and understanding – not words I would always use to describe him, but I appreciate that he’s showing that side of himself now, when I need it the most.
Now or never, I guess.
Taking a deep breath, as if it might give me some strength I didn’t already have, I unfasten my seat belt and open the door. One foot on the ground, then the other. My legs are shaking and for a moment, I just sit there with my feet out the door. Finally, I find the courage to stand and walk over to Isaac.
“So this is it.”
He nods. “Yeah. It’s not even in a curve or anything… I don’t know. I guess it was late and dark, you know?”
“See, it doesn’t make sense to you, either,” I reply, crossing my arms. “And that shit about how he wasn’t driving? How was he not driving?”
“I don’t know. I’ve given you all the answers I’ve got, and you keep asking for more,” he replies, his voice going up in volume. He’s getting angry. “What did you want to come here for, anyway?”
“I thought it would… I dunno, trigger something in my memory or in this whole time clusterfuck, I don’t know. I thought it would help.”
He eyes me suspiciously. “Well, you’re still here. So I guess it didn’t fix your little time travel problem.”
“I guess not.”
I knew eventually Isaac would lose his patience with me, but I just can’t deal with it happening right this second. I ignore him and make my way toward the tree. I have to step over piles and piles of stuff, and I can hear Isaac snickering when I get my pants caught on some fucking fake roses.
But finally, I’m there. I stare the tree down, like it might have some answers for me. Of course it doesn’t. I look back at the road, then at the the tree again. In my mind, I can see it happening. Taylor’s car, careening down the road at breakneck speed because it’s the only speed he knows. We’ve had a fight, so of course he isn’t paying attention. Maybe he glanced down to change the radio or light a cigarette. Just a second, that’s all it would take.
I can see it in my mind, but I know that isn’t how it happened. The mysterious disappearing driver is something I can’t explain at all, but I do know without a doubt that my explanation is not the truth either. So what really happened to Taylor?
Does it even fucking matter?
He’s gone. And I’m standing beside the road, staring at the damn tree, like that’s going to bring him back.
I don’t know how long I stand there, glaring at this fucking tree, before the tears start to fall. Again, I’m losing time. I snap back when I see Isaac standing over me and realize I’m curled up in a little ball by the ruined trunk of the tree that took Taylor’s life. How long have I been bawling like that? I have no clue, but it’s been long enough to win Ike’s sympathy back.
He offers me a hand and awkwardly half-supports me as we walk back to his car. My head is pounding, but I don’t think it’s just from crying so long. Sometimes that happens, though. I can’t bring myself to look back at the tree or the shrine as we drive away.
So much for answers.