And now the locket was empty, and Simon was just a few feet away—but he could never be further.
She blinked to keep the oncoming tears from her eyes and turned back. “All right, then. Let’s go.”
***
Outside the house, Simon took a breath of fresh air and tilted his face to the sun. He didn’t think he needed it—it seemed like yesterday when he’d been out and about, enjoying life—but when the air, infused with the warm spring breeze, hit his lungs, it felt like an awakening after a long sleep.
Shanna followed him, ruffling her hair, then tying it back into a loose bun. She headed toward a mint green Beetle.
“That’s your car?” He followed with a delay. “Very … vintage.”
So vintage, in fact, she had to unlock it by sticking an actual key into the lock. Strange as it was, though, it fither. In her frilly yellow tunic with a crochet collar and a skirt with a floral print in a dozen colors, Shanna looked like she could be filming an ad for this car.
Some time in the seventies.
“It’s not far to town,” she said as she opened the door on her side. “We’ll go to Ralph’s Convenience Store. He should have what you need.”
Simon opened the door on his side and bent to get in. “Good. Does he have pho—ouch!” He jerked back, rubbing the top of his head. How had he hit the car? He swore he’d bent.
“Simon!” Shanna rushed to him, eyes scanning his body. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine!” He extended a hand to keep her at arm’s length. “I hit my head on the door frame.”
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
She opened her mouth but didn’t say anything.
“Let’s go.” He sat down with more care, drawing his knees up to fit inside the small passenger compartment. The car wasn’t vintage only on the outside—there wasn’t a single sign of digital technology in here, either. No touchscreen with relevant information, an analog fuel gauge, drum brakes … “They didn’t have anything from this century?”
“Huh?”
“At the car dealership.”
She rolled her eyes and put the key into the ignition. The car sputtered to life, and with a jerk—which might have been intentional on her part—they drove off.
Ralph’s Convenience Store greeted them with a fading sign above the door and a cut-out of a bear on its hind legs leaning wonkily next to it, the opening schedule hanging around the bear’s neck. Shanna had rolled down her window as they drove along the main street and waved and greeted people as they passed. “Morning, Mrs. Phyllis!” “Hey, Bobby!” “Lester, shouldn’t you be working?”
Some smiled and greeted her back, but a couple only stared, and while their faces were unfamiliar to Simon, their expressions weren’t. He imagined they looked much like he had an hour ago, when he’d first seen Shanna and wondered who the hell she was.
Maybe her constant fussing—she’d tried to hug him at least twice—wasn’t because of him and the supposed connection they had. Maybe she was just friendly. Maybe she enjoyed greeting everyone, even strangers and brief acquaintances.
“I’ll wait here,” she said when she parked in front of the store. Simon got out, carefully avoiding the door frame. Shanna’s friendliness got a touch too intense at times, and he wouldn’t mind having a moment for himself.
For what Ralph’s lacked in size, it made up in the sheer number of shelves, and for what it lacked in organization, it made up in the insane variety of products. By walking down one aisle, Simon progressed from fishing rods to candy to books, all haphazardly stacked in rows or boxes. There was no one else inside, just the teller—a teenage boy lounging behind the counter, seemingly bored out of his mind.
Simon picked up a pair of pants—it would be incredibly generous to call them slacks—and two shirts. It might get cold at night, but he should be out of here before then. As he strolled further away from the exit, looking for the tech section, something yanked on his wrist, jerking him toward the door.
He whipped around. Nothing. No one. He shook his hand; it was fine now. Maybe he’d imagined it, but—there, the phones! They were displayed on a shelf by the counter. Simon hungrily took in the selection, the familiar blue-and-black packaging design catching his eye. He lifted the phone and brushed his fingers over the plastic protection.
Ariose 15A.A whole new model. He’d missed an entire series. Oh, it was beautiful. Still folding, so the glass composite forthe screen must have worked. Brushed aluminum casing on the back, and they were closing in on the edgeless design he’d discussed with Everett before Vegas.
Simon swallowed, unsure of what he was feeling—sadness, regret, even, that his company had made an entire new series without his supervision, or pride and happiness, that even while he was gone, everything was still working perfectly, and they’d arrived at a product he’d be satisfied with.
In the end, happiness won. Simon took the clothes and the phone and went to the counter. “This, and a prepaid SIM card, please.” That would do until he got home and sorted out his life. He dug through the wallet that was supposed to be his. A bit of cash, and his credit cards were still there, alongside …
Bungee Jumping Club Card? Paragliding? A confirmation of afree fall flight?
