The Past is Empty by Jack Gunner Peterson

  

 The Past is Empty

    I stepped inside with little hesitation. The door shut behind me and I was sealed inside. I expected much more from such an invention; It looked like nothing more than an elevator. The window on the door was a neat addition though; I could see the dread spread across the faces on the outside. Such an emotion couldn’t be caught inhabiting my face though. I knew what I was getting into and I didn’t care. Apathy was an old friend of mine, we’d gotten to know each other well over the last few years, However, excitement snuck its way into my body as I heard the machine charge up.

    When they asked if I had a particular date and location I wanted to go back to, I gave my answer instantly. You see, I never drank. Never smoked. Never huffed. Never puffed. Never pricked my skin. No, my drug was nostalgia. I missed being a kid, when holidays still felt special. I missed high school and playing football with my buddies. I think simplicity is what I missed the most. After graduation it felt like everything got complicated. While everyone else was able to adapt, I stayed the same. I was left alone to pick up the pieces that time had left behind. When I hit my 20s I realized the only thing that gave me comfort was thinking about the past. Despite the fact the good ol’ days were gone, the emotions tied to them were very much alive; right there in my head, ready for me to retreat back to whenever I needed them. Of course, over time this became an unhealthy habit. I spent so much time in the past that the ease I received from these memories began to fade. I guess I had built a tolerance. This trip was my
chance to rekindle the last bit of fire that resided within me.

    The machine shook violently now; I could no longer see through the window. I lost my footing and fell awkwardly to the ground. I felt a queasiness in my stomach, like the feeling you get when an elevator drops a little too suddenly, or when riding a steep rollercoaster. I had no sense of direction, but for some reason felt like I was moving downward. I could feel the rust coming off my body. Adrenaline shot through me, flooding my system with endorphins. This was real. Ironically, for the first time in a while, I thought about the future. Maybe this will be good for me, I pondered. Perhaps, I will finally be able to move on. Which was a weird thought, it didn’t seem like it belonged to me. The shaking screeched to a halt. I gathered to my feet, fought some nausea, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I smiled with genuine joy. I was peering into a memory, how picturesque it was. My old home stood just as it did all those years ago. From the outside it looked like any other house on the block, but to me it was everything. This wasn’t the version I had seen when I moved out; it was how it was meant to be. Two cars in the driveway instead of one. Christmas decorations lost to time were now back in
their rightful spots. Snowflakes fell innocently, accumulating on the unplowed street.

    I wanted to rip apart the door keeping me from paradise. As I prepared to unseal the airlock, I saw the front door open out of the corner of my eye. There he was, my mom’s little boy, happy as can be. He was bundled up in a puffy jacket, a scarf that was way too big, and a New York Giants beanie. It had to be at least -10 out there, but that adventurous little guy would’ve worn lead boots if it meant he could play in the glistening canvas that was laid out before him. I wish snow still felt that special. I could feel the bitterness from outside leech into the machine but my body was intoxicatingly warm. I couldn’t avert my gaze as I watched him run around. He looked awkward and clumsy moving through the thick layer of snow that was basically up to his torso. He fell backward into the blanket and out of view. When he emerged, he did something that broke my trance. He looked in my direction.

    I quickly ducked down behind the window. I had almost completely forgotten about the nature of this trip. There was a very strict set of rules I was to follow. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t plan on bending those rules a bit, but I didn’t anticipate being dropped in the open like that. My younger self saw the machine, 100%. I don’t think he saw me though. Thank goodness. I kept my body close to the wall, so much so that my back painfully rubbed against the metal as I slid upward to my feet. I slowly bent over, trying to reach a point where I could peek through the window without being seen. From what I could tell, he was gone. What if he went to tell mom what he saw? I gotta get out of here. Quick. So I broke the first rule and scurried out of the machine, stumbling into the winter storm. I had planned to cover it in snow – not the best idea but at least it wouldn’t be out in the open. However, when I glanced back, all that stood in its place… was a divot.

    Surely it hasn’t been 10 minutes. Has it? No, there’s no way. Panic began to sink in, I could now feel the bite of the tundra that surrounded me. I clawed at the dent in the snow thinking I’d find some remnant of the machine. Nothing. For a moment I just laid there, trying to console myself. It’ll be alright. They’ll probably send it back when they realize I’m not inside. I noticed that while lost in thought that I had begun making a snow angel. I continued to wave my arms through the powder, falling back into complacency – it was very soothing. I almost missed the front door opening once more, luckily I had sunk down into my imprint. It was muffled, but I heard the voice of my mom. It sounded different than I remembered it – of course it had been quite a while.

    “What, baby? There's nothing out here?”

    “Momma I swear! It was right there!”

    Is that really what I used to sound like?

    “Baby, you probably just saw a car or something.”

    “I don’t know who’s crazy enough to try and drive in this,” She mumbled.

    “But Mom! It wasn’t a car!”

    “Cut it out baby. I think the cold’s getting to ya, you should just come inside. Dad’ll be downstairs soon and we can open some presents.”

    “Make me!”

    It was muffled but I could hear my mom groan and whine as she chased the rambunctious little speedster across our yard. We used to be so close. Hearing her voice helped ease the bite of the snow against my skin. Even in frustration it was youthful and vibrant, not at all how I remembered it. Eventually I could hear my mothers woes getting more and more distant. I knew the layout of my home well – so I devised that while the door was open, I would quickly run upstairs and into my room. I worried about what I might see when I emerged from the snow. What if I misheard? They could still be within eye-shot. I can’t let them see me, but…I’ve gotta get up and go. What choice do I have? I rose from the snow with force – I didn’t try to be subtle about it, after all it was an all or nothing move. I charged forward, narrowing my vision until all I could see was the front door. Snow resisted every step of the way, but little me’s footprints had kindly paved a path for me. I slid into the doorway, nearly bear-crawled up the steps, and burst through my bedroom door like I had just got home from a long day of school.

    I let out five big labored breaths as I shut the door behind me. I took it all in. My Xbox was still on – The store was open on the screen, I was prepared for a gift-card in my stocking no doubt. A fathead of my favorite football player sprawled across the wall – back when he was still my favorite. My bed was messy and unmade, which brought a dim feeling of shame to the surface. I doubt little-me even knew what that word meant. On my desk was a piece of paper that said “Christmas List”. At the top in big bold letters, “Pair of Jordan's”. Weirdly enough, I couldn’t quite remember if I ended up getting the shoes. Next to the list was my Xbox controller. Video games had lost their magic for me in the present. Often I would turn the console on and quickly shut it off without playing anything. However, I felt that magical urge resurface, it took everything within me not to pick up and play. In that moment of contemplation, I was startled by two faint voices. I dropped my guard when I realized who they belonged to.

    “Do you think he’s coming back?” My old friend asked.

    “I think he went to open presents,” My other friend replied.

    “Really? This late?”

    “Yeah his family always opens presents late,”

    “Should we start a game?”

    I reached for the headset, it was an unconscious action. I really missed my friends – I didn’t care how many decades there were between us at that moment. I broke another rule.

    “Yeah lets ju–"

    “No! Don’t start without me!” I screamed without thinking.

    I don’t know what kind of response I expected. I did, however, expect a response.

    “Hello?” I asked like a kid would.

    I realized just how stupid I was being, not just in that moment, but in general. Why did I do that? I didn’t know whether they were silent out of fear, or if it was something much worse. When I looked around the room now, I could feel my presence tainting it. I tossed the headset back onto the desk and sat in my old chair. My heart began to pound to the point that it ached, but I had become a master at subduing it.

    It's times like these that I remember the past. When my mom would suffocate me with hugs and kisses and remind me that Christmas was right around the corner. There was a time when that was enough to make me forget what I was worried about. I was back in a memory where things were supposed to be simple again. My family’s probably opening presents about now. I think I know a spot where I can watch without them seeing me. That'll make me feel better. That thought seemed to ease my hysteria – marginally at least.

    I moved slowly out of my room, extremely cognizant of my volume. I stopped at the top of the stairs. I glanced at my dad's door, which was now open. I tiptoed down the steps, staring at the framed photos of me on the wall. Each snapshot contained a different era of my life. Each one different from the last. As I reached the bottom of the stairs the sounds of laughter, screaming, and careless paper-ripping filled the air. I peaked around the corner and watched it all unfold in real time. All my feelings evaporated into the spirit of the room. The golden rays of the Christmas tree, the lights dancing in their majestic patterns, they illuminated the scene perfectly. His happiness made my siblings happy, which made my parents happy – I missed that infectious familial love that I thought would last forever. Things were nice. I felt good. I thought I had been fixed. Yet, my heart began to pound again.

    I want to join them…but I can’t. I tried to reconcile with myself. This is plenty. Just enjoy the moment. Even in the happiest time of my life I couldn’t be present. Enjoy it. This is enough. Just then, I heard the subtle sound of metal landing gently on a blanket of snow. I glimpsed through my front window, the machine was back. My heart pounded faster. They won’t send it back a third time. If I don’t leave soon, I’ll be stuck here… Despite what my delusional mind was telling me, I had to go home. I felt stupid for ever thinking this trip would be good for me. All I did was stir up things I had long bottled up. I was better off in my head. I always was. Just as I was about to sneak out the front door, I heard little-me begin to cry. I hung back, I didn’t remember ever crying on Christmas.

    “That was everything!?” I whimpered.

    “Yeah, sorry kid I guess Santa forgot. Maybe next year” My dad said.

    I remembered. I did get those shoes. My family just hid them from me until the last second. They wanted it to feel extra special. I bet giving me that present made my parents feel so good. My eye twitched. Sweat beaded down my face. I was angry for some reason. I don’t wanna go back. I was ready to break the rules one last time. I didn’t care about making noise anymore. I waltzed upstairs to my dad’s room. I marched into the closet. The present was precisely where I thought it was. I was hardly in control of myself at this point as I tuned out the cries of my own voice. “Dad, I think I heard someone upstairs!” I was always very observant.

    My entire family gasped as they heard my footsteps descending. I stepped foot into the living room. For a split second, I was able to see all their faces, and they were able to see mine – my expression blank and listless. In a flash, the past was empty. Their clothes covered the ground. The couch still had imprints where my parents sat. My brother’s present, an RC car, crashed right into my leg. Christmas music was playing. It seemed ambient before but now it was piercing. There was a fire going, it was on the brink of going out. I was cold so I put on my older brother’s Christmas pajamas – my own wouldn’t fit of course — and took a sip of my dad’s coffee. It was the mug I had made for him at school. The shape of it was uneven and hard to drink from, but my dad used it all the time. I sat in the center of the empty room and stared at the box in my shaky hands. I opened it slowly and methodically, like I was trying to make it last as long as possible. When I finally got to the box and removed the shoes, I noticed they were obviously fake. Not authentic at all. He didn’t notice. He wore those shoes everyday, proudly. Maybe it was innocence I missed. I looked out the window, the machine was gone again. I stared at my hands — still shaking. A couple tears fell from my eyes, and then a couple more; finally, the levee gave way to a flood. It was the first time I cried in ages. It was ugly, childlike, and lasted an embarrassingly long time. When it eventually tapered off, and I shut off the Christmas music, I was forced to confront my new reality.

    I was trapped in a hollow echo of something great, something that only truly existed in the moment — impossible to recapture. I did some introspection as I strolled around the empty house. I realized something that deep down I think I already knew. When I passed the dining room table, I reminisced about dinners with my family. When I imagined the people that should be occupying the 5 vacant seats, I realized that I wasn’t one of them. It was a person that no longer existed. Someone I yearned to be again. What I realized was the only person keeping that from reality, was me. I could always be that little boy again – I could be adventurous, live with passion, and conquer everything thrown at me, all with a smile on my face, just as I used to. Story of my life. Always figuring things out when it was too late. Always stuck in the past, avoidant of the present, and terrified of the future. I hope they come back for me…