week thirty-three: time and hope

The following story is written as a companion piece for the very first Story a Week story, "Time and Regret." It is recommended that you read "Time and Regret" first, but "Time and Hope" stands on its own.

Hard times befall even the very best of humanity, and such was the case was for Hope's family. She was born into a destitute family where successes were few and far in between. Despite the coming and going of victories, tragedy always followed. Such was the case for the birth of Hope, for as she was born, her mother passed on. It would be so easy to accept despair in these times. Hope's father had nothing left but a mortgage, unemployment, and a child to raise on his own. Any more wavering man would surrender, but her father was truly indomitable. On a simple piece of paper, he wrote to his daughter on the day she was born:

“Hope, you're everything to me now. Your mother would have loved you very much and I'm sure if she can see you, she still does. We had decided early on to name you Catherine, but when she passed away, I decided your middle name was better. Your name is Hope because that's all I can have now. I don't want you or me to ever forget that. Times are tough, but there will always be hope. You're my Hope and I promise you right now that I'm going to fulfill everything you could hope for. I love you and you're going to have it better than your mother and I ever did. I promise.”

He fulfilled his promises. Working tirelessly at two jobs and caring for a young daughter, Hope's father overcame the insurmountable woes of depression and poverty. He never remarried because his focus was solely on his one true love: his daughter. Her dark hair and cerulean eyes reminded him so much of his befallen wife. That was all he really needed to move them out of their one-room apartment and into a three-bedroom house. All was against them, but the tables turned with the greatest outlook: hope.

With her experiences and a great father, she became her namesake. Hope was an indefatigable optimist and saw the best in everyone. She could never look back and believe in failure; she could only look ahead to the rising of the sun in the next day. Hope could empower others with her unwaveringly rosy reverie. She had the gift of encouragement because she could see the beauty in life that all others were blind to. Hope inspired and attracted many, but she waited until she found truest and purest love.

And she would find such love in Nick. What she saw in a Nick was her complete opposite. He was pessimistic and often cynical, but there was something about him that made him never look back. Nick proved as idealistic as Hope, except he saw the problems to be fixed rather than the strengths to be built upon. Their pairing was a beautiful one and they found their individual faults and qualities complemented the other with perfection. There was something strange about Nick, but Hope could never place it.

As autumn dawned, as they strolled through the most gorgeous of parks, and as their hands embraced, Nick took a knee. Hope knew what he would say. These four words are some of the most important a girl will ever hear. They are as follows, “Will you marry me?” But those aren't the words Nick told her there. In truest and purest love, he took the ring from his pocket and opened the case before her.

And before he could say anything, before she even saw the ring, she exclaimed with all impulse, love, sincerity, and hope, “Yes!” So they kissed.

They found themselves at the altar. Instead of listening to the old priest read the marriage vows, they lost themselves in each other's eyes. Both knew what they were going to say. And when they said those two words, when their matrimony was complete, the universe was suddenly made whole. Hope could not have been happier.

Hope's father felt his purpose fulfilled. He had given Hope all the love he could give and it was time for her to move on; time for her to share that love. His tears fell as she embraced him after the wedding. These weren't tears of pain, or tears of sorrow, these were tears of true joy. When a man puts his entire life into a singular goal, and that goal is fulfilled, then he is completed. Hope's father was completed.

They spent the next four years living together in harmony. Of course, there were the occasional mishaps and fights here and there; these are human things to do. And their true love would not be complete without fault. To live with perfection is to live devoid of humanity, devoid of purpose. To truly love is to love despite all fault. Love lives on despite all blunder and imperfection, but accounts for all quality and novelty. Love is a passing feeling, but a lasting choice.

While love has no limits, humanity does. Love cannot be broken, but the humanity behind it can be. It was after those four years that Nick screwed up. Hope had no choice but to leave him. This is not a choice she can be faulted with and she made it. Despair and depression overcame Nick to the point that she could only see him as crazy.

Hope moved away. After a month had passed, Nick came to her doorstep and begged her to come back to him. She listened to every one of his desperate pleas and she felt for him; she truly did. In her heart, she still loved him truly and deeply. But Nick had become a madman. Just as she was to take him back, he babbled on about a power to go in back time. He explained that regret gave him the fuel to do this and that she took it away because she gave him hope. Somehow it made sense. Somehow, what Nick said appeared as truth should appear. Nevertheless, the power to wind back time is incredulous. She couldn't believe him. And who would?

Nick told the truth. All of his life up until he asked her out, he been rewinding time and fixing his mistakes. He told no one; this power is impossible to demonstrate and even more so to believe. But he professed the truth to her. If he had not told her about his power, if she did not hear the truth, then she would have taken him back. Hope could only watch as Nick tore his life to shreds. He put himself in support groups and took medications of all kinds, but there was no helping him. Her lover faced despair. And it was all because of her.

Nick was suicidal; she knew this. And if he did it, if he committed the unforgivable sin, how could she live with herself? It might as well have been Hope who had killed him. But everyone around her told Hope to stay away.

She could not listen. She went to his home, completely unaware of her intentions. Maybe she would just check on him, maybe she could just see his face, maybe she could cure him. Hope always believed in the best in people. Nick was a great man, but he was a broken one. Broken men can be lovers, but there is a line too far. Sometimes people break into insanity. And that was how everyone saw Nick. But Hope still loved him.

Hope sat in her car and turned off the engine. His home was before her. She could go inside, she could fix this, maybe they could be together one last time. But no. No. He's insane. The man inside is broken beyond repair. Hope had to see him. She threw open her car door and resigned herself to just looking into his window. She hoped to see him and know how he was. She had to see the insanity, the cracking, the breaking for herself.

Hope surprised herself by what she saw. Nick sat in there on his couch with a weary smile, but a hopeful one. There was just something about that smile that told her all she needed to hear. Hope believed then that everything would be alright, that they could move on. Life could change. Perhaps Nick would mend and he could live without her, just as she was doing. Hope had learned to live a better life. Or she thought.

The next day brought tragedy. Hope's father passed away. He had been fighting heart disease for a very long time and finally, it overtook him. Hope couldn't be there for him, she couldn't hold his hand as he died. He was at work, sitting in his office, when the attack came. He fought and fought, but lost the battle. His doctors would later tell Hope that his dying words for her. As Hope's father fought for his last moments, he cried out her name. His battle was hopeless and he died with his daughter, his one true love, in agony over her lost husband. But her father lost his grip on life. He fell into the abyss of death.

As Hope drove to the funeral home, she answered a phone call from a disgruntled Nick, “I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. I love you.” And at that he hung up. Those were his lasts words.

When she arrived at the funeral, there were so many people. They all smiled, but all sorrowed over this lost man. Hope's father was a great man. A man giving a eulogy made note of his triumph over poverty and despair. He told them all about how he brought hope to everyone he met. There was something about this man; something about his very being that drove people, that inspired people. That both literally and figuratively, the man lying in that casket had brought Hope into the world. She kissed his aged forehead before they closed the casket. They came to the disturbed dirt at the hallowed ground and echoed their goodbyes from before.

In her shaking fingers dangled a folded page.

“What's that?” the man to her left asked.

“Oh, this? Nothing,” Hope answered politely. The man lost interest and that was her chance. Just as the casket hit newly-broken earth, Hope threw the paper into the dirt. This was just something that she had to do. It was that one last deed for her faltered father. It was a useless gesture. Dead men need no gestures; the living around them must give gestures to the dead because men need conclusion. They must do the last deeds so that all ends are met. All there knew that the only end left was Hope. She was alone. Her husband was a psycho and her dad was dead. The people there offered Hope comfort and encouragement, but these words are hollow. Hope doesn't need any of that. She needed her love back.

But duty came first. She drove to her father's house to go through his belongings. In this she found so many cherished memories; even some she had long stored in her heart, but lost in her mind. There was everything, from her impoverished yet jovial childhood to her father's eventual success. Even her wedding with Nick was well-documented in all of it. She put the things to keep in boxes and the rest she left as it were. These things were to be sold; gone forever. Like her father.

There was a trunk in her father's bedroom which Hope had never opened because her father had forbid it. All of her life she wondered what could be inside. Hope almost left it shut and would move the trunk to storage, but she had to know. What would her father keep from her? The mystery's answer was not quite as stellar as her childlike imagination had led her to believe. Inside were scraps, memories, and pieces... of Hope's mother. There were pictures, random trinkets, letters, poems, and more; all things only valued by those who cherished them.

But there was also a box; a black box. Hope snapped it open and inside she found a revolver. It was small, silver, and loaded. Somehow as she held it in her hands, she felt cold. And afraid. In her mind, she heard whispers. They were in a strange voice, but audible nonetheless. They said, “Take me.”

Without resistance, she slid the pistol into her purse.

That evening, when darkness of night stood fullest, her phone rang. Somehow, Hope knew she was about to hear some horrible, horrible news. And, of course, she was right. The call came from the police department, who called simply to inform her that Nick had put a bullet through his brain and was dead. No. She saw him. He had been fine the other day. No, no, no. This could not be. But it was. And hope knew that this was all her doing.

If she hadn't left him, he might still live.

If she had believed him about his power, he might still live.

If she walked through his door to be with again, he might still live.

If she had never met him, he might still live.

Despair took hold of her being. Hope lost all of her namesake. She heard the revolver's calling once more, “Use me.”

“Use me.”

“Use. Me.”

But Hope resisted. She could go on; she would have to. At the end of every night, there is day, is there not? There is an end to every madness, is there not? Every road, no matter how long, how dark, had to turn at some place. Hope would wait for this sunrise; she would find the turn in the road. Her father had done the same, so she must have it in her.

Doubt is a slow, silent predator. For days, doubt crept through her mind, feeding her despair. She looked in all places to find her her namesake, but doubt and despair choked her being. There was no one and nowhere she could turn to. Because of doubt, she had walked so far down the path of darkness that she could see nothing. She could see nothing except for one small light in the distance. She knew what it was.

“Use me.”

This road was death.

“Use me.”

Hope crept towards death. She went to her end slowly, only toying with the idea as she held the gun in her fingers. Of course, she told herself in her mind that this was something she could never do. Her thumb pressed against the hammer. Only crazy people like Nick actually do it. Click, whispered the hammer. Ha ha, this is all a just a joke or merely a dream. The cold steel pressed against her temple.

Far off down in her father's grave rest the paper Hope had buried with him. On it was written, “Hope, you're everything to me now. Your mother would have loved you very much and I'm sure if she can see you, she still does. We had decided early on to name you Catherine, but when she passed away, I decided your middle name was better. Your name is Hope because that's all I can have now. I don't want you or me to ever forget that. Times are tough, but there will always be hope. You're my Hope and I promise you right now that I'm going to fulfill everything you could hope for. I love you and you're going to have it better than your mother and I ever did. I promise.”

Why did it have to come to this? How had it come to this? What went wrong?

No. She could never again bear to think through it ever again. The trigger pulled, the hammer fell, the powder lit, the bullet spun through the rifling and into her skull. Her limp, lifeless body fell to the floor.

week one: time and regret

As merely a young boy, Nick discovered his curse. A boy of eight years discovered his possession of the ability to manipulate time. It started one afternoon in the kitchen when he accidentally burned his hand on the stove. Shutting his eyes tightly, the burns disappeared as he moved backwards into the hall. Everything moved with him and all that should fall down fell up. When he exclaimed, “Stop!” it stopped. Scared, the boy inquired of his mother if she knew anything about this phenomenon but she told him that he was crazy and should stop watching so many cartoons. But he wasn’t crazy, he was the sanest of them all.

It happened never again until the passing of a full year. The occurrence was when the resident bully took a swing at Nick. Falling to the ground, he suddenly rose back to his feet and the fist pulled away. When time resumed its normal course, Nick ducked and then struck a blow of his own; knocking the surprised bully to the ground. He became the hero for the day but his deeds were soon forgotten and the outcry soon became the normal and life went on. But not Nick’s, he could never forget.

Within the month, the power manifested itself yet again. On strange impulse, Nick told a pretty girl of his love for her. Before she could respond, fear overtook him and then again everything went backwards. He felt his lips mutter those three nervous words in reverse, all the more painful this time. When he mentally told it all to stop, time resumed, and he instead asked what they had for homework. She smiled and delicately told him. Of course, he didn’t need it. He would ask for a lot of things he would never need. And he could get them.

As the pubescent years dawned, he started to focus and try to learn to control his strange, anomalous power. In his dark room, he lit a candle and then blew it out. Nick soon found that it wasn’t any form of focus that granted him his power; it must have been something else. It would have to have been something present each time that he performed his deed. Perhaps it was emotion. Doing his best to draw up various emotions, he finally found one: regret. It tied together every instance perfectly: he regretted touching the stove, antagonizing the bully, and then saying, “I love you.” He made himself feel regret and then the candle lit once more. He laughed one of the few laughs of his lifetime.

Soon, he began to use his gift. In math class, he answered a question aloud incorrectly and drew scrutiny. But once the teacher gave the correct answer, he went back and gave that one instead. His life started to become easier. He received good grades in school and appeared to make no mistakes. But he was pained, afflicted. He had to live with every mistake that was only technically uncommitted. Nick regretted what he did not do. He could forgive, but he could not forget, especially for that which never happened. Sorrow and then depression took in for what others could only see as no reason. Not a man, woman, or child understood this boy.

For a while, thoughts of never using this curse again filled his mind. Nick went a week in its entirety where he failed. Repeatedly. They were such sweet, sweet failures. But then the reality hit him that these were public failures, not the private and secret ones from before. They were so real to him. And what pained him most was that they were. Tests were failed, relationships were destroyed, and feelings were hurt beyond healing. Profusely, Nick apologized but none of it was enough. It wasn’t enough for him or for anyone else. When it was too much, he went back and did the whole week over without failure.

Nobody ever told Nick that they were sorry because he covered up the mistakes of others as well. There was not a way for him to fix everyone’s mistakes, but he could try. For a while Nick believed that he was a superhero; that destiny had called him to fight for justice. Images danced in his imagination for hours on end. He could fly, he could save the world, and he could save himself. But that was when it stopped: when he realized that he could either save himself or the world; not both. Every time he went back, part of his soul would erode. He would see a friend do something he never thought possible and he would go back to stop it. But he knew what his friend was capable of and could never fully trust that person again. With that, his social life began to vanish along with his humanity.

But Hope would always come knocking. That was her name: Hope. She knocked on his door one day after he had started his own life. He promised himself from then that he would marry her. She was truly and absolutely beautiful, not just in appearance but in spirit. Her cerulean eyes were timeless in his and something kept him from going back when he was around her. She was intoxicating in the best of ways. Hope was his cure. There was nothing for him to regret with her and it was regret that gave him his power. Hope took away his regret and his power, but in other ways she empowered this boy more than before. She put light where there was darkness, but obscured other places. Nick would never fully know her; the infinite mystery. The best part was that she shared his feelings. Not his problem, but his feelings. They shared things that only go to and fro with soul-mates; because they were indubitably soul-mates.

But his life was turned upside down when he made a terrible mistake. And this one would have to be faced because with Hope, there was no regret. He hurt her. His depression and agony took reign again and then he hurt his one salvation. Through the next days, he found no control because he found no regret. Without regret, he could only justify his actions no matter how bad they were. His salvation was his destruction. She left him and then he finally regretted. When he called upon the pain of regretful sorrow, it only turned her away. She had fallen in love with the boy who regretted nothing. From her perspective, Nick faced life head on without looking back. But when he tried to at least fake regret with her, she found no attraction. Worst of all, she saw his lies.

Nick used his regret and tried going back but it all stopped at the last time they were together and he had to feel her departure once again. He tried more than once because his former bride was worth all of the pain. But finally, he learned. He learned that he would have to win her back the way he had stopped a long time ago: the hard way. Nick would fight long and hard, journeying however he must to win back his dear Hope. Without her, he had none.

After a month had passed, he had prayed that she would be open to listening; to at least hear him out. When she did, he tried to explain his problem. He explained how he had become addicted to reversing time and that it was fueled by the stains of regret. Nick tried to explain to her that she cut off his feeling of regret and that she loved what she had caused. She completed him; healed him. But the boy couldn’t prove it. She had lost faith in him. This was beyond belief to her because she no longer saw a soul-mate: she saw a crazy person in the sanest of them all. Hope had not faith and so he had not either.

They say that hope is the last to die. But for the boy, it was first. Instead, all he had was his fuel: regret. All of his life he regretted and the more he tried to stop it, the more he regretted. What was thought to be his cure was his affliction. So this is when he decided that his life was where it had all started. He decided to end it. A noose was tied to the ceiling and the boy kicked the stool away, dropping his miserable body to the end. His life flashed before his eyes. There was a certain beauty that he could not waste. Nick knew he would regret his death. Taking in the regret, he spun the wheels of time back again. The stool came back under his feet and then he descended. He took down the noose and then realized that life was still miserable but not worth ending. Perhaps he could find a way to start over. His sanest decision was his biggest mistake.

Hope came by his home and looked in the window. She found him sitting on his couch with a weary smile. He didn’t notice her. Something on his face told her that it would be alright. This reassured her and then she left, never to see him again. Eventually, the boy attempted suicide again, this time he was dead with no turning back. There were no more regrets but there was also no more Hope. Regret overtook her and she joined him in death.

But had he not reversed time to save himself, Hope would have found him dangling and dying. She would have broken in and then saved his life where she would heal him again. With that healing, their relationship would mend. They’d marry again and have many children. The boy and his beloved Hope would live together until they were old and finally dead. Their life would have been nearly perfect to the outside observer, but to the boy: flawless. The ideal that he had tried so hard to regret himself to simply could not be.

Through chamber and barrel, death pierced his brain. Days later, lead and powder destroyed Hope. Regret, the single strongest of all feelings, for once, gave something. The boy received the gift of erasing anything that had come to pass. It had even come to allowing itself to be removed by way of truest and purest love. But even its gifts were too strong for man to bear. Regret destroys even when it seems to build. Its wrath not only caused the destruction of its experiment but also its love. Regret made a man worth less than his own life because it had directly ended another. Had he never existed, Hope would live on. But it was this logic that had killed her in the first place. This sane logic kills.