The Past “Jon! Would you please wake up,” called a distant voice.
Jon groaned. “Nathan, give me a damn minute; I not a young man anymore,” he squeaked out. His voice sounded a little strained. Well when you faint and you’re my age, you’re bound to sound funny. Nathan was now shaking him. Nathan needed to cut his fingernails, because they were digging into Jon’s shoulder.
“Jon, if I’m late for school again, it's going to be your fault,” whined the voice attached to the hand that was shaking him.
Jon opened his eyes and grabbed the hand shaking him, “I said give me a…” Jon stopped abruptly for two reasons. For one, the face he was now looking into was not Nathan Tate’s, and two, the hand he was holding was that of a beautiful teenage girl. Jon felt faint once again as recognition struck him. “Cat,” he exclaimed loudly, and pulled his little sister to him to embrace her in a hug.
“Uh, Jon, what are you doing, silly,” asked Catherine Rooney.
Jon was crying like a baby.
“Did you have that dream again, Jon,” asked Cat.
Jon could not stop sobbing. He clung to Catherine even tighter.
“Uh, Jon I really do love you, silly,” Cat labored to say because Jon was hugging her too tightly to breathe. “But I will kill you if I’m late for school again.”
Jon eased his embrace and grabbed Cat by the shoulders and held her at arms length. As he did, something fell from his hand. “I missed you so much, Cat,” he said with a funny voice.
“Are you sick, Jon,” asked Cat. “Just last night you were telling Mom how it would be nice if I would die and leave you my room.”
“Oh God, Cat I never…”
Cat’s hand flew to cover her mouth as she drew in a shocked breath. “Jon! You took the lords name in vain! You are sick. I think I’ll have mom drive me to school. You're not acting like yourself.”
If she only knew, thought Jon. She looked beautiful. More beautiful than he remembered his sister looking. Of course, what brother looks at his sister when he’s 19 and thinks she’s beautiful? Cat got free of his grip and walked out of his room. His room. Just as he remembered; James Dean posters and all his football trophies and his very messy room that his mother constantly…
Jon jumped out of bed and ran downstairs into the kitchen. That is when he started crying again. His mother, June Rooney, stood in front of the stove cooking as she did every morning for most of her life. Cat was standing next to her and said, “See, mom, look at his face. Not only is he crying, he looks crazy!”
June Rooney turned as Jon closed the distance separating them. He wrapped his arms around his mother.
“My goodness,” she exclaimed. “What did I do to deserve that this morning?”
Jon sighed. He stepped back and took his mothers hand, “Mom, did you know that I always loved you, no matter what?”
June Rooney looked at her son and cocked her head to one side and said, “Of course, dear.” She reached up and stroked some hair back from Jon’s forehead. “A mother always feels the love of her children,” she said as if that was an indisputable fact.
Jon smiled and rubbed his eyes, and ran his hands over the top of his head.
“Hair,” he yelled, as he ran to the bathroom. Once there he flicked on the light and stared at himself. “I’ll be God Damned!”
“Jonathan,” retorted his mother from the kitchen.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. I have hair again, and no wrinkles! “What is today,” he asked yelling from the bathroom.
“It’s Friday Mr. Dirty Mouth,” shouted the reply from his alive little sister. Jon could not remember the last time he was insulted by his sister. He did not mind in the least. He asked tentatively, “Um, what year?”
“See mom he’s cracking up,” he heard Cat say.
“What year,” Jon repeated.
“Well it will be next year by the time you get me to school.”
“Just tell me.” Jon said. Damn, now even I sound crazy to myself, he thought.
“If it will get you to hurry up and take me to school,” yelled Cat.
“It will!”
“1959.”
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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