“I’m afraid that time will take me back at any moment,” said Stanley, allowing his worries to surface. “I’m so tired, but I’m afraid that if I fall asleep, when I wake up, I’ll be back there.”
For a moment, Devon looked at the slice of pizza in his hands, examining it the way soldiers in the trenches had, as though looking for mice droppings or flakes of mud before eating something. Stanley could see that Devon was thinking this through with as much concentration as he might a section in his thesis paper. Then Devon looked up at him, determination making his jaw firm, his eyes bright.
“We’re going to test it,” he said. “I’ll take pictures of you in your uniform like we did before. And then the second time when you took pictures of yourself.”
“I wanted to go back,” said Stanley, though he hated the thought that admitting it might hurt Devon’s feelings and wound his tender heart. “I had to finish my mission or I wouldn’t deserve being here with you. So I put on my uniform, recited the code in my head, and took a picture of myself with your phone. Like we did before. I think it was the flash that did it, that sent me back.”
If he’d thought that Devon would get angry in any way, Stanley couldn’t have been more wrong. Devon put down the pizza, got up, and came to Stanley’s chair, and hugged Stanley very tight. Stanley pressed his cheek to Devon’s belly, and circled his arms around Devon’s hips, and then they were still, together like that.
“You were so brave,” said Devon, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe how brave you were; you saved everybody, and you still came back to me.”
“Time let me, I think,” said Stanley, though he couldn’t say how he knew this. “At least I feel like it did.”
“You’ve got good feelings,” said Devon. “And I’m so, so glad you’re here, I can’t tell you.”
Stanley stood up in the circle of Devon’s arms, feeling a little warm in the blue robe now that they were so close. Devon slipped his arms inside the robe, and it was as though they were both wearing it together. He could feel the warmth of Devon’s skin, and taste traces of garlic on his lips as he kissed him.
“I am glad that I’m here,” said Stanley. “But I want to be sure, too, at least more sure, that nothing’s going to happen, that I won’t be taken from you again.”
“We’ll repeat what we did,” said Devon. “Then we’ll be sure.”
With some reluctance, Stanley got dressed in his uniform, hopefully for the last time. The wool was scratchy. It smelled of mud and blood and the sad mildew of age, as though it was very old and nobody had touched it in a long, long while. Which was odd, since he’d just taken it off.
He took the wrapped chocolate out of his pocket and put it on the table, as he didn’t want the lump ruining the line of the uniform. He took the ID tag from around Devon’s neck and let Devon tie it on him.
Devon knelt at Stanley’s feet, lacing his boots with the 48 eyelets, and wrapped the puttees in careful layers. Devon handed him the dented canteen to sling over his shoulder, but there was no rifle. Stanley didn’t ask about the rifle because he really never wanted to see it again.
When Devon posed him in the middle of the living room, Stanley made a point to stand in the same way he’d stood before. His heart beat fast with the fear that the war would open up behind him and he’d be there once more.
Except it felt different. He’d completed his mission, and it didn’t have the same feel, it just didn’t. Yes, he was a little tired, but he wasn’t experiencing that bone-deep pull of gravity in the same way, the way that reminded him every minute that this was not his world. He wasn’t feeling that, but it was scary just the same. Especially when Devon turned on the flash with a flip of his thumb and took the photos.
The brightness of the flash stung Stanley’s eyes, but nothing happened. The photographs had been taken and Stanley was still standing next to the sturdy farm table.
Devon looked at him with questioning eyes.
“Anything?” asked Devon, his voice full of hope.
“No,” said Stanley. “It’s different from the last time. It’s strange. I don’t have any of the same sensations.”
“Okay, okay,” said Devon, as though to comfort Stanley as much as himself. “Now let’s try the other thing you did—didn’t you say you said the code? So maybe do that.”
“I opened the door first,” said Stanley. “To look at the rain.”
“Okay,” said Devon, nodding, his eyes wide with nervousness. “Let’s try that.”
Stanley went to the door the way he had that one night, when deep in the darkness he’d awoken with a pulling desire to save Isaac andRex and Bertie and everybody, to save them all from certain death. To do the right thing.
Then, it had felt as though his whole body was buzzing, being pulled into the past. But as he opened the door, now, the mist was coming down. His face was wet, as with before, but his body felt the same as it had only a moment ago. He did not feel any urgency, nor any fear.
He turned from the open door and said the code, the whole of it aloud. The words resonated with only a shadow of their former power as Devon took another flash photo of him.
His heart was beating that he’d be taken from Devon and shoved back into the muddy trenches. Only nothing happened this time either. He looked over at Devon’s tight body all drawn up as though in anticipation of the most mortal of pains, his face still and grave, no light in his eyes.
“Anything?” asked Devon. His lips barely moved. “Is anything happening?”
“No,” said Stanley, shaking his head. “It’s not the same at all. I just feel a little tired, but normal, like it was any other day.”
“Maybe it is just another day,” said Devon. “Maybe you’ll get to stay with me now.”
