This is my 2nd attempt at writing another story for this post. For those who enjoyed Marcus Summer Twist, I have a surprise, I am going to repost It in the near future with an upgraded, polished feel to it. Anyway, I am on the fence if to keep this story, a short story or a mini novel. This is just a preview of chapter 1. I suppose it would depend on your reponses how I proceed. You can email at scottgregs30@yahoo.com
If you are a fan of the "Back to the future" series, or any time travel theory, you should really like this story. None of the theories presented in this story work, as far as I know, it's all just my overactive imagination... except some of the people are based on people I know.
I want to thank Paul from down under once again for his help in editing the story. We tend to converse quite a bit over a chapter. He really gets into the role and sometimes develops snarly editor disease. In the end, we make a good team and its all for a good story. Thank you Paul.
What IF?
Saturday, May 23, 1998, 6:25am
I'm spying on my 21year old neighbor from the confines of my attic window, which overlooks his backyard pool. He's getting ready for his set schedule of doing laps in his pool at 6:30 every morning during the summer. I love watching his perfectly formed swimmers build do 6 minutes of stretches in his Reebok shorts and t-shirt before shedding them to reveal his KC aqua blue swim briefs, that fit so snug, and doing 21 minutes of laps, including a variety of strokes at various speeds. Then he gets out of the pool and does some more stretches before moving on to either weights or the elliptical/stairmaster machine.
His short, jet black hair makes his tan toned body ripe for staring at. From any angle you look at him, he ripples with toned muscles, with a smooth body, except for a thin treasure trail leading to a nice looking bulge in those KC swim briefs.
I discovered his early morning swims after my parents left early one morning for a vacation last summer. Even though we are neighbors, and my brother was in his class, I never made an effort to get to know him except for shyly avoiding and observing him around the neighborhood.
I've dreamed of the day when I could look like that. At 17 I have the genes of my grandpa, which gave me a short and stocky build. I play tennis, computer games, I'm in the school band and work at a local recreational lake as a groundskeeper. I would play more sports but I have a slight over-perspiring disorder called hyperhydrosis. I can be at work and within 10 minutes I am drenched just from pushing an oversized broom. My boss thinks I am a workaholic when he sees me pouring sweat and my soaked shirt. He usually says, "Damn fine work there young man. Keep it up."
I have a bad habit of eating to calm my nerves which I think is because my parents argue a lot. I'd hate to see them break up; but the selfish side of me wants them together. I think it could be that I miss brother also since he started college a year ago and is hardly ever home. I never get stared at by anyone and, besides watching my neighbor Tucker, watching movies is my main hobby.
This morning Tucker does something I haven't witnessed up to this point. After he stretches he glances around and then sheds his briefs, very slowly as if he is on display. It's the sexiest thing I have ever seen. He strides to the side of the pool, stretches some more, but these seem more like poses, before getting into the pool. What is unusual about this is the way he angles himself, I can not see his bulge nor his butt clearly. After he's done his laps he emerges from the pool and again he is angled so I miss seeing anything. Even so, the way the water glistens on his skin is mesmerizing as it highlights his great body. Tucker again goes into those posing stretches. He sits on his bench and again seems to pose while completely wet, and then lifts some weights. Then he reaches down and looks like he is slowly stroking himself. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he knows he is being watched.
From my perch at the attic window, using my binoculars, and the way the sun reflects on the house, he can't possibly see me. My dad installed new tinted windows last year. My face is plastered to the window, trying to get a better angle to glimpse his treasures. I ignore the cracking sounds thinking it's just normal for the window pane to give and take. I also feel static in the air.
I'm suddenly startled out of my ogling of Tucker by a throat clearing behind me.
"Oh fugibeans, the parents caught me." I mumble. I then think to myself, "You can't exactly miss what I am looking at." I turn around and am shocked to see a rather overweight guy who looks a lot like me, only older, standing before me.
"Who the heck are you?" I ask, as I start to panic.
He smiles, looks out the window over my shoulder, and says, "It's ok Ian, I won't share our secret with anyone. Tucker is pretty hot! I still to this day shyly avoid him when I see him."
This guy sounds so much like me its scaring me even more.
I stutter again, "What the? Who are you?"
"Ian" He replies, "I just have a few moments to explain. I am you, only from the future. You have seen `Back to the Future' how many times and you daydream about what it would be like if you could have a chance to meet yourself from another time? This is your chance to do that. What would you change if you could?"
Strangely enough, I get him and I accept he is me. I've never told anyone about what I think about time traveling. I can sense he is telling the truth. I want to test him just to make sure. I ask him, "OK, Where do I have a mole?" He shows me the same mole I have on my right side. Having confirmed he really is me, I respond to his question
"Back to the Future is only the best sci fi time travel movie, ever." I reply. "The possibilities are endless. So, somehow in the future, you or a mad scientist discovered a way to travel back in time? Holy cow, this is wild. Is Doc here? Where's the Delorean?"
"No car. That would stick out like a sore thumb. Now pay attention. What is the one thing we have always wanted?"
"I would change how I look."
"Right! If you continue the way you are, this is how you will look in 12 years."
"No offense, but I don't want to look like that. But what can I even do? I can't do anything."
"First turn around and look at Tuckers body. That is your goal."
"I want that so bad."
"Here is what you do. First, take can't' and won't' out of your vocabulary, and second, as soon as I leave, go and talk to Tucker. He is only human, just like you."
"He's a jock. He doesn't even know I exist much less being prepared to help me."
"Trust me, change is not easy. Instead of hiding from things, approach them head on and do it."
"I suppose you are right. By the way, can I ask you? Am I gay?"
He smiles and says, "I am, but you are on the fence."
"Ok." I am confused by that reply. "So what is time traveling like?"
"Awesome, to say the least, but it is my first time doing it."
I whisper, "Wow!"
He winks and then fades away like a movie on a projector screen.
"Wow!" I whisper to myself several times. My future self doesn't seem happy. Of all the time lines, he chose this time of my life to set a series of events in place to better my life. I'd better get started. I try to think of a way to approach Tucker. I spend the next 10 minutes over-thinking it all. I finally say, "Fuck it, just go straight up and ask him." I look back out the window and don't see Tucker out by the pool.
I hurry downstairs, tip toeing quickly past my parent's bedroom so they don't hear me. I slowly open the french door, hoping my dad WD'd the hinges so they don't squeak. Success, he's done it. I head for Tucker's yard, hoping he is still out there somewhere. I plan to jump the hedge and make a grand entrance, however, my vision suddenly gets blurry and I fumble. I plunge head first through the hedge and my head hits something hard.
Next thing I know, someone is splashing water on my face. I open my eyes but it's still blurry. I finally adjust enough to see Tucker standing over me. I am thinking, "Holy cow, Tucker is standing over me. What the fuck do I do now?"
Tucker asks, "Ian, are you ok?"
I moan, "What in the sam hill happened?"
"You hit your hit head pretty hard. Hang on, don't move, I'm going to get the EMT next door."
I try to sit up but everything is spinning. As I lay on the ground, my head aching, I keep thinking what did I just commit myself to doing. I have made such an effort to avoid him as much as possible. A few weeks ago I was riding my moped and saw him jogging on the other street, when he turned onto the street I was going to turn on. My only option was to continue across the street and into the muddy ditch. Another time I was on the ride-on lawnmower, mowing grass, and he was jogging in front of my house and my only option was to turn into the hedges.
I think the one that tops them all was when I was at my brother's baseball game. Tucker was in the outfield during an inning. I really had to pee after drinking a liter of coke. I thought this was the best time to get to the bathroom before anyone heads in there. As I finished, I opened the stall to leave, and there stood Tucker. I thought, "How the heck did he get in here from out there so fast?" I about fainted but instead anxiety hit me and I threw up on his cleats, which made him get out of my way really quick. I mumbled something as I exited and headed to my dad's pickup to hide.
Eventually, Tucker returns with a guy who lives beside his house. I thought he was in college majoring in something medical related. I never talked to him since we are about 10 years apart in age. From what my family has witnessed you would think he was some weird animal science guy. I notice Tucker had his warm up pants on but no shirt.
"Ian, this is Gordon from next door." Tucker said. "Gordon this is Ian from the other next door. Gordon, I was cleaning the pool over there when I heard a loud thud and looked over and saw Ian laying here by the weight bench." I thought it was funny as he actually pointed in the directions he was describing.
Gordon asks, "Hi Mr. Ian, What am I looking at?"
I ask, "What?"
He replies, "What?"
"You said Mr. Ian. That's not my last name. Ian is my first."
"Right. So Ian, How do you feel?"
"I feel like I can dance the jive." I reply dryly. "I think you need to brush up on your English, or your bedside technique needs some adjusting, if you are going to be a doctor."
Gordon laughed along with Tucker. Tucker replied, "At least he didn't lose all his senses, besides bad sentence structure, did he?"
Gordon replied, "I'll work on it, Ian. So what I meant to say was, where does it hurt most?"
I pointed to my head.
He mumbles, "Thanks for being specific."
He does some visual and motor skills test. Finally, he holds a cup in front of my face and says "So this, what does it do?"
"What?" I look over at Tucker who is as confused by the question as I am.
He points to the cup. "What do you think this does?
I reply, pointing at the cup, "It holds liquid?"
Tucker asks, "What is with the cup?"
Gordon replies, "I call it the what test?"
Tucker looks weirdly at him and asks again, "What?"
"Yes, what test?"
I reply, "Speaka English, doc."
Gordon shakes his head and seems rattled but replies, "The cup is a test, to test visual and thought process. Hence I call it, the what test."
I say, "You need a better name for it."
Gordon stands up, hands the cup to Tucker and says, "Ian, I think you are going to live, just put some ice on it for the swelling. If the pain continues tomorrow then you should go to the hospital." He shook my hand and left.
I comment, "He has some strange bedside technique. He isn't much for conversation is he?"
Tucker smiled, "I think he is a bit reserved, like you. I bet you guys could be best of friends in the future. Let's get you into the pool house, we have ice in there."
It wasn't a large pool house, just a small, 2 room unit. On one side was a set of showers and the other a mini kitchen/lounging/changing area with a floor to ceiling mirror on the wall.
Tucker pointed to the cushioned bench and said, "Sit there."