Cryonic (24 page)

“What happened to your hand?”

“I lost them in the plane crash. The doctors couldn't reattach them. They were too mangled.”

“I never should have flown that plane.”

“Maybe so, but who really knows? What if we'd landed safely, or you didn't have that heart attack? The plane isn't what killed you.”

“It's still my fault.”

“You're missing the point. It doesn't matter whose fault it is. That was almost forty years ago. Sure, it was a slow, painful process for us in the beginning, but we've had a long time to heal.”

“I wish I could accept that.”

“The whole thing must be really fresh for you.”

“It sure is.”

“It isn't for us, Pop. We lost you so long ago. Sure, I wish I could have spent those years with you. There are so many things I would have loved to share, but that's the past. Those
years are gone. None of that matters now because you're back. You're right here with me, and that's an incredible gift. It's a miracle.”

“I guess it'll take some time for me to come to terms with my regret. It hasn't even been two weeks since they thawed me out. It's so great seeing you, son. I didn't know if I was going to make it out here alive, but now that I did—now that I'm sitting here in your living room—I realize everything I've missed.”

“You're going to have to learn how to take the good with the bad. If there's one thing I've learned from the last ten years, it's that.”

“I guess you're right. If you had been living back east, I never would have found you.”

“That's the spirit, Pop. And you—you were crazy enough to fly that plane, but you were also crazy enough to get frozen. That's the only reason you're here now. How many people get that second chance?”

“Um, nobody. I'm the only one.”

“Exactly. We're going to embrace this opportunity for what it is. We'll just have to make up for the time we lost.”

“I never thought about it that way. I just wish I could do the same for your mother. Oh God how I let her down. We were supposed to grow old together. All those anniversaries, birthdays . . . sunsets on the porch—they're all gone. I should have been there for her, right by her side, but now it's too late. There's nothing I can do to make up for it.”

“So they told you about her.”

“Oh, no, no. It's true isn't it?”

“What's true?”

“I'll never get over her. She was the love of my life. Please tell me she went peacefully.”

“Went? She didn't go anywhere. She still lives in the house on the cliff.”

“You mean she isn't . . . dead?”

“No, of course not.”

I leapt up from the couch. “Are you serious? I have to see her. Is she home now?”

“Probably. She's getting older now so she doesn't spend a lot of time outside the house.”

“What a relief! I don't know why, I just—when I didn't see her name in the database, I assumed the worst.”

“Dad, you didn't see her in the database because her last name isn't Bruyere anymore. She remarried.”

“Oh.” My heart sank, as did I, back into the couch.

“Don't take it hard. She mourned you for a very, very long time. She was incomplete without you. She lived like half a person. That's literally what everyone said. Eventually, though, life goes on. Even Mom had to move on with her life. She had no other choice.”

“Maybe that was my time, that day in the plane. I should have just died when nature intended.”

“You don't mean that.”

I did mean it, but I bit my tongue. It wasn't right for me to show up after all those years only to upset my son.

“You wouldn't want to deprive Mom of happiness, would you?”

“No, of course not. This is just one of those things that's hard for me to get used to. Half a lifetime has passed for you since the crash, but for me, nothing has changed. It's like it was yesterday . . . I'm still stuck in twenty ten.”

“You belong here, Pop. You belong in this world.”

“I hope you're right. I really do. Let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Is she happy now?”

“Yes, she is, but she'll be a lot happier once she sees you again.”

A phone rang loudly upstairs.

“You need to get that?”

“I probably should. Why don't you go see Mom?”

“Okay, I will.”

“I'll head over there as soon as I'm done here.”

I didn't know why, but I ran all the way to my house. While I waited for the light to turn so I could cross the Coast Highway, people stared and pointed at me from their vehicles. They must have recognized me from the news. As soon as I caught sight of my home, I lost the urge to run. I stopped and tried to catch my breath. The neighbors had gone bananas—gaudy mansions cluttered the street, depriving it of any character.

Like Colt's dwelling, my house had changed little since I last saw it. It was nice to know that some things had withstood the test of time. I had worked my whole life to buy that house, and now I was afraid of it, apprehensive of what it held inside. I opened the front gate, walked past the front door, and stood on the edge of the deck overlooking the ocean. Groomed lines from a healthy south swell followed the edge of the reef beneath the house. Colt wasn't exaggerating about surfing being taboo. There wasn't a single person in the ocean. Even the lifeguard station was boarded up.

I knocked softly on the door. It was a strange sensation, being an uninvited guest at my own home. An old man answered. He must have been at least eighty years old. I recognized a familiar face buried beneath the wrinkles and liver spots.

“Gary, is that you?”

“Royce! Welcome home! We saw you on the news this morning, and now here you are. Well, aren't you a bolt from the blue.”

“So you're the one that's giving it to my wife?”

“Oh Royce, now . . . take it easy, friend.”

“Just answer the question. Are you or aren't you?”

“Come on, pal. It's not like you were off on deployment or something. You've been dead for forty years. What did you expect?”

“I expect my friends to keep their hands to themselves.”

“Royce, buddy, I'm sorry. We're so excited to have you back. It doesn't have to be like this.”

I heard someone stirring in the background. I leaned in closer and spoke softly, “You know what's ironic about all this, Gary? When I first woke up, I thought you were playing a prank on me. The weird clothes, funny-looking machines, the mean Chinese doctors . . . I thought you were sticking it to me. Turns out you really are sticking it, just not to me.”

“Look,” he said gruffly. “I'm going to step out and give you two some space.” He grabbed a pair of shoes from inside the doorway, hobbled over to the bench out front, and pulled them on with his shaky, bony hands. “I really am glad to see you, Royce” he said, patting me on the shoulder as he walked past.

“Royce Bruyere, you come inside,” a familiar voice called from inside the house.

I stepped into the entry, and there was my wife, sitting in a chair in the living room just like the last time I saw her. She was tiny. The passing years had robbed her of muscle tone and shrunk her frame. Her wrinkled skin hung loose on her bones. She looked and sounded a lot like her mother, which was shocking, but her spark and infectious smile—immune to the ravages of time—were all her own.

“Oh dear, you're as handsome as the day we first met,” she said.

I walked over to her, and she pulled herself up gingerly out of the chair. She placed her lips gently against mine. “I was always afraid of what being frozen was going to do to your face. I just never suspected that it would be any of my concern.”

“Here I am,” I said awkwardly.

She started sobbing. I held her tight. She felt so little, like a fraction of her former self. My eyes felt heavy, but the tears wouldn't fall.

“I always used to say that I'd trade anything, anything at all, for another day with you . . . ” She smiled, her face streaming with tears.

“You and Colt are all I've thought about. There were times when I didn't know if I'd make it here alive, but I kept pressing on. I didn't want to live if I wasn't with you.”

“Were you hurt? They say that disease makes people do terrible things.”

“Just a little bit from the freaks. There was a doctor, though, and he fixed me up. Then I got shot. By our own troops, if you can believe it,” I said, laughing. “Look at this.” I opened my shirt to expose the massive scar on my chest. “It happened just a few days ago, and here I am, good as new. I just have to take one of these pills every eight hours.” I held up the little bottle and shook it.

“It's shocking what they can do. Do you remember what Restora said when we signed you up for the service? That it would take hundreds, maybe thousands of years before they could bring you back?”

“If they could do it at all. Those Chinese . . . they are something else. I don't know what they did to me, but I feel better than I did before the accident.”

“Do you remember everything?”

“Everything. Like it was yesterday.”

“Then you must be disappointed by this little old lady you found living in our house.”

“Never. The only person I'm disappointed in is myself. I never should have left you alone. I was rash. Impulsive. I threw our life away, for what? I'll never forgive myself for that.”

“Royce, you have to forgive yourself. Do you know why?”

“No.”

“Because I've forgiven you.”

I didn't know what to say. Her intent was a hard thing for me to accept.

“Colt told me why you flew home that night.”

“I wanted to make our date.”

“You're a sweet, sweet man, and we had a wonderful twenty-five years together. Can't we just let the past be the past?”

“I'm trying. I really am. It's hard for me because it doesn't feel like the past. It feels like everyone changed except for me.”

“Is that why you were so mean to Gary?”

“Don't even get me started with him.”

“I'm eighty-five years old, Royce. Gary turns ninety in January. We married thirteen years ago, after he lost Donna. It just felt right. We take care of each other. We keep each other company.”

I stared at the floor like a hurt little child while she spoke.

“Oh, Royce, it's not like we're a couple of twenty somethings running around christening every room in the house.”

“You mean like we did?” I asked with a sheepish grin.

“Of course I do. You gave me the best years of my life. No one can take that away from us.”

“I'm sorry, love. You'll have to forgive me for what I said to Gary. It's just that . . . you don't know what I went through to get here. That virus is a horrible thing, and all along I had this image in my head—I was driven by it—an image of you and Colt, of our life together before the accident. I think I secretly wished that nothing had changed. That I'd get here and my life would return to what it was. Now that I see the two of you here in the flesh I know that the world just kept on spinning without me.”

“Royce, we're still here. We're your family, and nothing can change that. Just focus on us, don't be distracted by everything else.”

“Like another man sleeping in my bed?”

“Yes, like another man sleeping in your bed. You'll have to embrace this world for what it is. There's so much you haven't seen yet. Like the girls, have you seen the girls?”

“Just a picture when I was over at Colt's place.”

“They will melt your heart. You're going to adore being a grandparent. It's simply wonderful.”

“Hey, that reminds me. Colt invited me to dinner tonight so I could meet the girls. Why don't you and Gary come along?”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure. Like you said, we're family.”

We spent the next few hours catching up. The time flew. Age hadn't tarnished her wit and penchant for breakneck conversation. Talking to her in our living room for hours on end reminded me of when we first started dating. We'd stay on the phone late into the night. She got me up to speed on our friends and family—who was still alive, who had died, who got divorced, who came out of the closet, the whole nine yards. It was a lot to take in, but it sure did bring me into the present.

We were interrupted when Colt came barging through the front door.

“Some things never change,” I said. “The kid still doesn't knock.”

“Are you kidding, Pop? Why would I?”