Time Master

I supposed this was what I had wished for for a long time…. I had spent many hours letting my mind run wild on what I would do if I ever gained such magical powers. It felt like a dream, like all my problems would be solved if I could just have this one gift. But this was reality, not the fantasies I read about. Wishes were supposed to stay just wishes; they weren’t supposed to come true. Not that I complained when it happened… I just couldn’t get over the shock.

That first day, I had accomplished so much. I felt the possibilities were endless in this reality to a person who could stop time. I cleaned up my house, took a long nap, and got everything I wanted from the grocery store and Target down the street. I even got gloves and dug through cash registers and people’s pockets. Time was paused. They couldn’t see me. There’d be no way to trace it back to me. I felt a satisfying joy I’d never felt before.

I had money. I would never need for that again. With time paused, I could gather whatever I needed, whenever I needed it. I would never have to waste money on things like groceries, cat food, or clothes. I’d never have to ration my cart when know one would ever even know I’d been in the store. Sure, it was technically stealing and breaking the law, but things had been hard, and I wasn’t going to waste this. At the time, I couldn’t see a negative consequence. I couldn’t see my downfall.

I remember sitting by the pond at the edge of the park, debating if I should ever tell anyone. I couldn’t imagine anyone believing me. It’d be challenging to convince them, I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer to everyone’s needs. Of course, then I didn’t understand all the reasons I might want to. I didn’t realize I’d have no other explanation for what happened….

I’d always been a pretty good liar. I suppose it came from growing up in such a suppressive home. I could never share the truth about anything: what I desired, how I felt, what I was doing… all would be met with chastising and disapproving comments. I’d lied about little things and, as I got older, lied about giant things: school, jobs, lovers…. No one seemed to question it.

Until the wish happened. I should have known that he would eventually get suspicious. He loved me and paid so much attention to me. He was bound to notice. He was bound to see things weren’t adding up, and there was no logical solution for some things I was able to do. I can’t help but wonder if I had told him the truth, if things might have turned out differently. But for all I could accomplish, stopping time, I could never rewind it.

“What is going on, Beth? You’re scaring me. I’ve been gone for two hours, and suddenly the house is fully decorated with ornaments and things I’ve never seen before. You’ve managed to bake two dozen cookies for the party, but I’m sorry to say you look terrible. Your face looks worn. I think you’re pushing yourself too hard. You need to relax,” Alec muttered, reaching up to brush his fingertips down my face. I wanted to cry, but I held back.

I knew I looked twenty years older than I was. Time stopped for everything but me, and my growth between time spaces was catching up with me. I wanted to reassure my husband, but there was nothing I could say. It had been twenty years now that I’d been keeping this secret from him. Instead, I leaned into his touch and let it soothe me.

“You're right. I think I’ll take a nap and then a hot shower before the party tonight.” I stepped away from him and moved towards our bedroom. I didn’t look back so he wouldn’t see the tears I’d failed to keep secure.

I didn’t pause time when I napped. I let myself spend with everyone else. I hated to do so. Sleep now seemed like such a waste, especially when I knew I could do it without using up extra hours. But doing that so much had caused problems I could not have foreseen. I cried so much.

I tried to stop. For a while, I got better at only using my ability in extreme cases. But slowly, the addiction worsened. It was just so much easier and better when I knew I had a simpler way to get things done. But time was overtaking me. This type of ‘gift’ came with a cost. One I hadn’t realized I’d agreed to pay.

Now, at fifty-five years old, I look almost eighty. My skin is scarred with age marks, and my face is covered in wrinkles. My hair is thinned from all the dye. My husband watches me like a doll about to break. I sit back down on the bed and stare out the wide, open window. It’s beautiful outside. This was normally the kind of day my husband used to suggest a hike or a walk through the woods behind our house. Now he barely let me outside for fear I would damage myself.

I can’t decide if it was worth it. Part of me regrets wishing for such a thing. Part of me wishes I had the time back that I lost. But part of me knows it could have never gotten this good if I hadn’t cheated, if I hadn’t used my ability to bend the rules. A whirlpool of emotions swirls in my gut, like the rising of hot lava before a volcano erupts. I hate everything, but I like the life I’ve created. I want more time, and I’m terrified to die.

My parents are coming by the house for dinner tonight. This will likely be one of the last times I see them. I’m not looking forward to the lies I’ll have to tell. I don’t want to see the fearful confusion in their eyes. I don’t want to think about the unspoken question they’ll be thinking: which one of us will die first?