We all exist in spite of the mistakes we may make. Regrets are earned with our heartbeats and those regrets can drive us forward…or make us yearn for yesterday. In tonight’s Genres Not Included, author Joe Nelson starts a tale with a protagonist trapped and looking into the past, and author Eva Newcastle will bring us to the necessary end, where tomorrow and yesterday will meet.
Tonight’s episode of #GenresNotIncluded is brought to you by the U.S. mint. They make coins. Joined by the glorious @EvaNewcastle, we are taking a journey somewhere different. We hope. Click below for the beginning! 5 posts from each of us!
-Joe Nelson, September 28th, 2024
I sat at the table and pondered every decision that had brought me to this point.
I shouldn’t have let you go. Too late by twenty years.
Or maybe not.
The silver dollar on the table taunted me.
The fortune teller said to flip for my fate.
But what would I get? Was it real?
I didn’t believe in this sort of nonsense. Yet here I was, sitting in a roadside shack with some woman who insisted I pay upfront. Don’t ask me what possessed me to pull off the road and knock on her door. The house reeked of incense. Flip a coin. “What if” are two ominous words.
“What happens if I get heads?” I asked.
“You will see yesterday in tomorrow’s light.”
Sure, that made sense.
“And tails?”
Her eyes held mine. “Then tomorrow will be unstrung from yesterday’s tapestry.”
This wasn’t worth the fifty bucks. Why was I so nervous?
Flip the coin.
One chance. One outcome. This was crazy. Why was this so hard? Putting my faith in a stranger with fingernails chewed down to the cuticle and too many rings drawing attention to the smoke stain.
All I wanted a second chance. Praying for heads, I reached for the coin and tossed.
20 years ago you asked me to wait. I had my future in sight, bright lights in Hollywood, the whole shebang.
I should have waited.
I flipped the coin.
You refused my calls. You might as well have left the planet. But never my thoughts.
Heads or tails?
I closed my eyes and held my breath until a thud on a card table draped in paisley sounded.
“Heads,” she said.
I couldn’t believe my luck. But her gaze was unnerving, too deep. My heart skipped a beat. What’s that old saying? Be careful what you wish for?
“And?” I waited.
It was a sham. I should have known better.
I yawned with a suddenness I could not explain.
And when my eyes opened, I was in my studio apartment. The one I could barely afford in Brooklyn. 20 years ago.
I looked around, confused.
“What’s the matter?” Megan asked from the bed.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped without intent. “That’s not what I meant. Megan? What’s going on? When did you get back?”
“I got back from work an hour ago. Quit fucking around and answer the question. Do you want me to move out or not?”
I remembered. Oh, shit.
“Of course not!” I said hastily.
She rolled her eyes. “You wanted me to apply for that role in that spy movie and now you want me to give it up? Make up your mind!”
Wait…what? I had been the actor. I had left for Hollywood. I ditched her!
Hadn’t I?
Or had that been tails?
“Knock it off!” I yelled, fingers into my temples as though it would erase my hurt. My memory was jangled. I was to blame. She lobbed a silver coin at me and stormed out, crying.
The reader took the coin and handed it to her assistant, standing by.
“Megan?”
Tomorrow came.
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