Other Fan Fiction / Romance Fan Fiction / Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Adventures of Thad Gunter ❯ Once More, Before We Go ( Epilogue )

 

THE CONCLUDED ADVENTURES OF THAD GUNTER!

 

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Epilogue: Once More, Before We Go

 

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The Author heaved, his breathing tight and knotted. The cursor at the end of the document blinked.

 

“It's… It's over.” He gasped.

 

He reached up his hands, observed his fingertips. The bent, beaten down to the quick nails, the missing layers of skin and bleeding sores. He had been going on with this for so long, he almost couldn't remember how it started. Wait… Yes, a vomit joke. That was the start. How innocuous.

 

His eyes drifted pass his hands and to the rest of him. Wow. He wasn't a pretty person, was he? Not naked anyway, especially not after refusing to bath or discard his own feces for a while. Not that anybody really looks good under those circumstances.

 

And, damn, he was tired. When was the last time he slept, too? Thad had kinda' consumed his life, hadn't he? Maybe that was Eaalhi's doing. Maybe Eaalhi shot up through the folds of the multi-verse and started turning his cranks. That would make sense, on one level. If the Author was left up to himself, the damn thing still wouldn't be done. He'd be too busy watching anime, and masturbating, and killing hookers, and masturbating to anime about killing hookers.

 

Eaalhi's plan to transport a Lovecraftian Elder Thing into our world never would have worked if he hadn't been pulling the strings. But, somewhere, James lost control. Maybe it was when Thad showed up that control went back into the right, sweaty palms. But how does a fictional character take control of its Author anyway?

 

Oh well. Hoo-dee-doo. Plot hole, lalalala.

 

The blinking cursor mocked him again. Let's see, bleeding fingers, naked, unbathed and generally uncouth, fucking exhausted…

 

Yes, must write more.

 

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The wind whipped through Thad's hair, whirring past his ears, singing a sweet song. The hills, the farmlands, rolled passed him. Cows grazed in fields while children played in school yards. Yes, the school day was all but over. He tapped his finger on the side of the shiny red chrome car door, playing a tuneless melody, one that went along with the lazy midday afternoon feeling.

 

He turned to the driver. Rachel kept her eyes on the road, only stopping occasionally to consult the map laid out and taped to the dash. Despite the warm weather, even Thad was going without sports jacket, she wore a long sleeve shirt, make sure her wrist were covered at all time.

 

“You know,” Thad told her, “It's not your fault. It wasn't your decision.”

 

She steeled her face, obviously not interested in discussing the matter. “Nobody will know that, from looking at me.” She sighed, “It's just going to take some time for me to…” She paused, searching for the word, “Wear… My scars in public.”

 

They drove on, her hands tight on the wheels. “And, it doesn't really make me feel any better that I did this against my will. Makes me feel…” Another pregnant pause, “Violated. Like somebody reached inside me and twisted the cords. I…”

 

Thad could've sworn he heard a repressed pain in that pause, “I really don't want to talk about it.”

 

“You're right. Sorry, shouldn't have brought it up.” Once again, Rachel had managed to make him feel like a heel with ease.

 

“No big deal. Lord knows we've both been through some crazy shit over the pass couple of days.”

 

“Lord knows.” Thad muttered, a smile strangely tugging at his cheek.

 

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And that was just a little too perfect. There it was, a building on a hill. A stone sidewalk led up the hillside, away from small parking lot, currently choked with big yellow school buses.

 

“Is this the place?” Thad asked.

 

“According to the spot Stephanie marked.” She de-taped the map and began to fold it back up, “You know, Thad, you should really learn to read maps.”

 

He stepped from the car, softly setting the door closed behind him. Slipping the jacket back on, he presented him self to Rachel, putting on his best, cheesy grin.

 

“So… What do you think?” He changed the pose, “Looking good?”

 

She chuckled. It was only then that Thad noticed the moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes.

 

“Rachel,” concerned, he leaned in on the car door, “Are you okay?”

“Thad,” She said, her tone soft again, like it was that day by the crater, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

 

It was a good question and he took the time to consider it. Truthfully, he had been considering that question for the past few days. How to articulate those thoughts?

 

“Rachel, I know I said the past was in the past and there was nothing I could do to change it. But I also promised myself that I wouldn't forget the past.” He looked to the school atop the hill. “After all I've been through, after finding out the truth, I've just got to see her, one more time. I've got to make myself sure about some things.”

 

Now, Rachel's voice audibly cracked. She turned away hiding her shame, her tears.

 

“You can come with me, you know.”

 

Thad hadn't expected to hear that. Emotions rushed his head and heart and, before he could stumble out some sort of response, she went on.

 

“If that's what you want, I mean. I'd be more then willing to become your new Helen.” She faced him and he saw those tears. Rachel had never cried in front of him before. Her voice continued to waver.

 

“I could be that for you, Thad. I really could.”

 

He had never considered it. And that made him feel worse. All this time, while he was chasing this dream girl, here was this extraordinary woman right in front of him, risking her neck for him, putting her life on the line for him. He had been such a jerk. But… There were some pretty big “buts” in there.

 

“Rachel,” finally he said, softly, “You don't have to be my Helen. I wouldn't want you to.” He reached a hand out to her and caressed her own outstretched hand. “I want you to be Rachel.”

 

She chuckled but that didn't stop her from crying. If anything, the noise came from her throat more like a wheeze then a chuckle.

 

“How come you always know the right things to say?”

 

She dropped her hand and returned it to her side. She sucked up her sniffles, removed her glasses, wiped those precious few tears on her shirt sleeve, before starting the car back up.

 

“You go met your Helen, Thad. I think you've earned it. But…” The car backed up, “Stay in touch, would ya'?”

 

He waved goodbye, “Sure thing.”

 

She waved back, driving away, “I'll never forget you, no matter how much therapy I get.”

 

He laughed, “Ditto.”

 

As the girl drove away, her eyes seemed to linger an unusually long time in the rear view mirror. Thad couldn't heart it. He stayed there until she was out of sight, until he knew for certain she wouldn't see him walk away.

 

And now, on his own, he started out that sidewalk.

 

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The school was mostly empty by now. Thad's shoes, those friggin' shoes, squeaked along the empty recently polished hallway. He could hear, somewhere down the way, a child's laughter, talking to a friend, running off to freedom, away from the constraints of the school into the carefree afternoon of youth. He felt a little silly, a grown man, wandering the halls of a grade school. He was afraid someone would mistake him for a pervert or a weirdo. Weirdo was justifiable, maybe, but pervert? Hardly.

 

He peered into every door as he passed, hoping to see some sign of her. Thad had spent a lot of time, running down hallways, looking into rooms, searching for people and things. There was some sort of perfect metaphor for life in there, but, perhaps, journeys just required a lot of stalking antechambers and peering in entrances. Maybe the looking was part of the point.

 

All at once, there she was. Seated by a desk perched in front of an empty class room, the energy of the day's students still clinging to those chairs, there she sat. Helen… Had changed. Thad realized that, in fact, she was much the same as last he saw her. But his memories had altered his perception. His dreams had rebuilt her into an impossibly perfect reflection.

 

Her hair, that he had remembered as golden straw yellow, was subdued, a brown creeping into the coloration. The pale, smooth, spotless skin, still bore a lingering splotch or two, the signs of adolescent complexions, never quite cured one hundred percent. She was naturally skinny, but, now, she seemed almost lanky and ungainly. Even those green eyes, the ones he so longed to look deeply into once again, even those had faded, the crystalline clearness of youth giving way to cloudiness of middle age. The simple skirt and blouse she wore now, school teacher clothes, downplayed her natural feminine aspects, desexualizing her from “Maim” to “Teacher.” She remained concentrated on papers in front of her.

 

But, even with the attributes of wishfully imbued beauty stripped away, never the less, she was still Helen. Being with her, his heart still skipped a beat, his breath quickened, and that deep feeling in his soul, that effervescent lightness inside him, all the symptoms returned.

 

The hard part came next. He stepped into the room and gently tapped against the door frame. “Hello.”

 

Slowly, her head turned, and she faced him. No sense of recognition crossed her face. “Yes?”

 

“Hi.” Thad stepped further into the room, his cheeks warming. How do you say such things?

 

“Helen,” he started and then stopped again, self-consciousness rearing its head.

 

She stood away from her desk and eyed him, confused, suspicious. “That's me. Who are you?”

 

He cleared his throat and extended a hand, “I-I'm Thad, Thad Gunter.”

 

For a second, she searched her mind, trying to put name with face, voice with memory. And then, it all came rushing back. A downpour of memories filled her mind. A smile, god what a beautiful smile, crossed her lips. Joy appeared on her face.

 

“Thad!” She said excitedly.

 

Helen, arms outstretched, rushed to him, foregoing his offered handshake, instead pulling him into a happy embrace. Naturally, he couldn't refuse. His arms felt strong again, holding her like that. And feeling her thin arms around his back, that too, made him feel different, younger then he really was.

 

“Oh my God, Isaac Thaddeus Gunter! Oh, it's been so many years!” She said to his shoulder.

 

“It certainly has,” was all the response he could muster.

 

Finally, after such a sweet time together, they parted. She smiled at him again and it was all he could do to return the favor.

 

She shook her head and laughed, “Where have you been all this time?”

 

Goodness, if she only knew. “A lot of different place, all over.”

 

“Why didn't you ever call me?” Her voice… Sure was nice to hear that again.

 

“I don't know, Helen. I mean, right after things went south, I always assumed you never wanted anything to do with. And my life was going other places.”

 

She crossed her arms and looked down, searching memories, “I know how that is.”

 

“But, well, I've had a pretty crazy year and, after all that, I decided I had to see you again.” He chuckled, “pretty crazy” was probably an understatement.

 

He leaned against a student's desk, observing her. She did the same to him. “How'd you end up here? I thought you'd be exploring ancient churches in Eastern Europe by now.”

 

She threw her head back and laughed again, “Oh, Europe, it has been that long, hasn't it?”

 

They started to walk, side by side, exiting the room and entering the hall.

 

She continued, “You know, Europe's great when you're twenty and so is the idea of being an archeologist. Even after you realize it's a boring desk job and not Indiana Jones, it can still be exciting. But…” She emphasized the word.

 

“Sooner or later I realized home is where the heart is and decided to get back, as John Lennon would say. After my time was up at Priceton, I came back to the States, drifted for a few years, was a museum curator upstate for a while, came back, got my BD in general education and,” She stopped and presented the school to him, “Now I'm teaching multiplication tables to third graders.”

 

“Just multiplication tables?”

The walking started again. “Oh, little bit of everything. History, science, literature. You know the greats, Goethe, Nabokov, Seuss.”

 

They both laughed. Her humor was so warm. Thad had almost forgotten. His mind spoke, “It doesn't surprise me that you're a teacher. Kids always loved you.”

 

“Oh, they're great, always learning. They call me Miss Ruddy. Apparently Rudwalnagirctekahs is a bit of a mouthful for them.”

 

“I know it was when I was seven. I think I just called you Walnut until we we're twelve.”

 

She laughed too and playfully punched his shoulder, “Says the guy with the paragraph long name.”

 

“What can I say, my Mom was fond of middle initials.”

 

More laughter, the good kind, full warm laughs.

 

“You know,” More smiles in his direction, “Thad, I'd love to catch up with you, talk about everything. Let me just finish grading these tests and then we can go catch dinner. There's a great greasy spoon right around the corner. You know, if you don't mind your arteries getting clogged.”

 

“Helen,” saying her name again felt right, “I love artery clogging food. Grease taste like America to me.”

 

But then his voice dropped just a tone, facing what had to be hard facts, “But, I'm sure your husband would mind if you had dinner with an old boyfriend.”

 

She paused and gave him a mischievous grin. “Oh no, Thad, I don't have a husband.” Helen showed her hand and wiggled her very empty ring finger. “Single,” she chirped.

 

That good noise was enough to make Thad stop. Truly stop. He stared at the beautiful woman before him, considered the bright future ahead, the insane past behind, and just let time pass through him, uninterrupted, at least for a second.

 

“Well, in that case,” He could barely content his optimism, “I'm buying.”

 

Mirth echoed off the lockers once more. Their shadows danced as each reeled over from belly guffaws.

 

“So,” Helen Marie Rudwalnagirctekahs, hands on hips, youthful and sassy as she always was, give him a good head-on look, “Enough about me. What have you been up to all this time?”

 

Amusement of the truest order boogied across his face. Thaddeus I. Gunter, former independent documentary filmmaker, amateur adventurer, reality traveler, one-time Renn-Tech lackey, friend, lover, and generally thoughtful guy, took the time to consider the question. That was way we did things, so we'd have a great tale to tell our friends, families, and dearest loved ones, later. In retrospect, anything could make a good story. He looked straight into those big green eyes, into the soul of this girl, whatta' girl she was, and told her.

 

“Sweetheart, have I got a story to tell you.”

 

And that, my friends, was that.

 

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The end.