The Devil is in the Details – Chapter 2 – vvc

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Chapter 2 – Buck 2

Buck jerked to consciousness, unsurprised that he’d lost it at some point from exposure to the dizzying swirl of colors he’d been surrounded by for who knows how long.  He looked around quickly to catch his bearings and ruthlessly suppressed a scream of rage when he realized where he was.  It took him several long minutes to compose himself enough to think at all rationally.

His old room.  In Hershey.  Someone was going to pay for this.  He absolutely did not want to relive his life.  At all.  Not from any point.  And most especially not from a point where he was still living in this house.  He looked around but couldn’t quite place the timeframe with the items he saw on display.  Not a young child, but not close to when he’d left either.  He looked at his hands.  Not small but not full adult.

“Teenager then,” Buck muttered and fisted his hands, testing their strength.  “Early teenager.  Fuck.  Why couldn’t I will give you your youth mean deaging instead of time travel?  Who did I piss off?”  Buck pounded the mattress with both fists as fury overtook him.  “Fuck!”

Buck forcibly calmed himself again.  It certainly wouldn’t be to his benefit if he caught his parents’ attention before he’d made some semblance of a plan on how to deal with the situation.  He didn’t plan to blab to anyone about his circumstances, no matter if there were laws that would protect him, as the hassle of it all would just be too great.  Nobody could do anything too egregious to him anyway, laws or no laws, or the devils would take offense and torment the offender until they were satisfied – which often was never.

“I’d still be harassed, injured, or dead, wouldn’t I?  Because stupid people abound.”  Buck punched the mattress again in frustration.  He did not want to go through whatever remained of junior high and high school having to watch his own back every second.  “At least I’ve learned how to keep my mouth shut around other people.  Shouldn’t be too hard to fly under the radar.  Maybe.”

He laid back down in his bed and stared at the ceiling, allowing ideas to flit through his mind.  He didn’t know how long he stayed there but nothing really stuck with him as a solution, and he needed more information besides, so he eventually decided to rise and dress before his parents got bent out of shape about him being lazy.  Must be a weekend, though, or the summer, because his alarm clock said it was just after eight a.m. and they hadn’t come by to express their disapproval of his existence.  And he was hungry.

“Time for breakfast.  What did I even eat now?  Cereal?”

The dresser revealed a t-shirt selection consistent with his estimate of early teen but it was the jeans that gave him a better answer.  New-ish jeans in size 28×32.  That put him at the latter half of 8^th grade. He’d started puberty early, around age 10, and his hormones had been aggressive.  He’d popped up fast in the beginning; he’d been at the top of the height scale for his age, reaching 5’6” by the time he was 13, getting his last 8 inches at a steady pace until he’d reached 6’2” at age 18.  It meant he’d been scrawny but tall with long legs since he was 12.  His mother despised baggy clothes, so it meant she’d had to order special jeans and trousers since he was 12.  It meant she’d thrown an epic, accusatory fit every time he’d needed longer jeans.  It meant he remembered quite well his jean sizes all through junior high and high school.

“So, I’m 14, or near enough.  What was I even doing at 14?”

Buck made a quick stop in the bathroom, studiously ignoring the mirror while he took care of business, not sure he was up for the shock yet of seeing his new/old appearance, then headed to the kitchen and the calendar that hung on the inside of the pantry door.  The kitchen was just as appallingly bland and pristine as it had always been – white cabinets, white counters, white floors, stainless steel appliances that he got yelled at if he dared to leave a single smudge.

“I hate this house,” Buck muttered bitterly, fury rising again at having been sent back in time against his will.  He tamped it back down as he opened the pantry door.  “And survey says…July 2005.  Definitely 14.  Barely.  And look at that!  I’d forgotten the parents had taken off for the summer for a little European nomad adventure.  Lucky, lucky me.  At least I’ve got a month or two to plan before having to deal with them.  When does school start anyway?”

Buck perused the written entries in July then flipped the calendar page up to August to do the same there.  “Parties.  Meetups.  Football.  Saturday, August 27 for the unfortunate return and Monday, August 29 for start of school.”  He sighed and dropped the calendar page and watched it flop back into place.  “Just what day is it in July?  At least there’s a computer in the house even if I don’t have a phone yet.  What did phones even look like now?  This is…so dismal I don’t even have words.”

Turning his attention to the pantry shelves, Buck grimaced in disgust.  Froot Loops.  Cocoa Puffs.  Captain Crunch.  “God help me.  How did I survive to adulthood on this crap?”  He gave an aggravated huff and pulled out the Froot Loops and turned away, leaving the pantry door open because why not?  He tossed the cereal box on the counter as he walked to the fridge, pulled open the door, and stared for several moments.  “Right.  Forgot about that.”

The envelope sat innocuously between the gallon of fortified milk and the orange juice.  Buck pulled out the envelope and weighed it in his hand even though it was visibly stuffed full.  “Right.”  He tossed it back into the fridge and picked up the milk.  He stared for a few more moments before shaking his head and closing the fridge door.  “Right.”

Preparing and eating his bowl of cereal was done on automatic pilot as Buck contemplated the envelope full of cash in the refrigerator and the implications thereof.  His parent had left for their tour in the very early morning hours of July 1^st and had left him $1,000 in cash.  He was supposed to use that money for food, school supplies, football fees and uniforms, bus fare, and new school clothes.  Instead, originally, he had spent $900 on a good quality mountain bike during a 4^th of July sale then gotten a job as a newspaper boy delivering newspapers in the early morning hours for spending money.  Because that was still a thing in 2005.  He had eschewed the bus for his new bike, eaten at friends’ homes as much as possible, foregone school clothes and supplies, and barely had enough to cover his football expenses.  His parents had been infuriated but he didn’t care.  He’d loved that bike.  He had ridden it everywhere, for local transportation and recreational rides at every trail within 20 miles, until he’d been hit by a car when he was 19 which, despite his family’s beliefs, had not been his fault.

Since the envelope was still full, that meant the devil had dumped him within the first couple days of July and, more importantly, he had the opportunity to make a different choice with that money.  “Small favors, I suppose.  Not that getting a bike is a bad idea.”

He dumped his dishes in the sink and went to the front door to pick up the paper he knew would be there, because that was still a thing, and check the date.  Opening the door revealed the same horrible little pristine street he remembered and he shuddered as he quickly picked up the paper and shut the door.  He turned the paper to reveal the date and…July 1, 2005.  He blew out a harsh breath and tossed the paper onto the floor then turned and leaned back against the front door.  He slid to the floor, put elbows to knees and his head in his hands and didn’t fight the tears.

He was never going to forgive whomever had done this to him.  Never.

~~~The Devil is in the Details~~~

The doorbell rang while Buck was standing at the counter and eating the last of the Froot Loops, contemplating what to do today for the Fourth of July holiday this time around.  He blinked in shock and glanced at the digital clock on the oven.  It was barely past 6:00.  He looked down at himself as he put down his spoon.  “Hope they don’t care about my pajamas.”

Buck padded out of the kitchen and down the entry hall to the door and took a quick peak through the peephole.  “Why does she look familiar?  Who did I even know at 14?” He shook his head with a sigh then twisted the deadbolt and opened the door.  And stared.  Right.  Now he remembered.

“Evan.”

Buck just stared in shock.  The very few memories of this situation ran through his mind then were immediately overtaken by what he perceived now as an actual adult and experienced first responder.  He watched, speechless, as the young woman set down a baby carrier and gestured at a neatly stacked pile to her right.

“She’s yours.  That’s her stuff.  My parents refused to agree to or pay for an abortion in-state and I couldn’t get enough money together to travel and pay for an appointment out of state[i].  And my parents refuse to pay for my college unless I give her up.  I thought they’d change their minds once they saw her, but they’re not budging.  They refuse to help with her at all, not even hold her for a minute if I have to go to the bathroom.  And they took the money for diapers and formula and everything out of my college fund.  She’s a good baby, but she’s not worth my future.  Keep her, adopt her out, drop her off at the hospital, I don’t care.”  The woman waved again at the pile of stuff.  “Her birth certificate is in the bag but it only has your first name on it because I didn’t know your last name until this weekend.  You’ll have to do court stuff if you want it fixed.  I left a letter about everything and stating that I’m giving her to you because I’m going to college.  It was witnessed by my friends because I didn’t want to risk a notary telling my parents what I was doing.  They’ve been bugging me about the father forever and you don’t deserve to have to deal with them.  You were a good lay, but I’m not interested in a relationship.  Goodbye, Evan.”

Buck stared as the young woman turned and walked away then got into her car and drove off without another word or even a wave.  It took him a minute to gather his wits.  “Safe haven laws are only good for the first month, not that you care.  Obviously.”  He snorted at his non-sensical statement and shook his head.  Maybe he needed another minute to get back all of his wits.  He snorted again and ran his hands through his hair.  “Fuck.  Right.  Let’s get you inside.”

The baby stayed asleep when he picked up her carrier and stayed asleep through transport into the kitchen and onto the counter.  He stared at her for a bit then went back and moved the pile of stuff into the house.  A car seat base, a box of neatly folded baby clothes, two boxes of diapers, half a box of formula, a box of obviously used but clean bottles, a heavy box of small random baby stuff, a large box of blankets and cloths, and an absolutely hideous bright pink diaper bag full of whatever diaper bags were full of.  “This has to go.  What’s wrong with basic black?”

He got everything into the entryway, closed and locked the door, then went back to the kitchen and stared at the baby while he finished his Froot Loops.  She stayed asleep.

The first time through this holiday, he hadn’t even touched the baby.  He’d called 9-1-1 in a panic and an army of first responders had converged on his house within five minutes.  He’d given a statement, acknowledged that he had slept with the girl at a Fourth of July party the previous year, provided his parents’ location and his sister’s contact information, submitted to a cheek swab, told not to worry, and the baby had been taken away.  He’d been informed a couple weeks later by his sister that the paternity test had come back negative and that the young woman was just trying to dump her responsibilities off onto a naïve boy.  Maddie had given him a huge lecture about going to parties too old for him and, especially, about sleeping with random girls he didn’t know without using condoms.  His parents had never mentioned the situation, which meant they didn’t know, and he’d been stupidly grateful to Maddie for not telling them.  At the time he’d believed she was protecting him but now he believed she had been protecting herself.  In the end, he’d bought a box of condoms and put the whole thing out of his mind forever.

But he was an adult now and had a lot of experience in sussing out the truth of a situation because of his decade-plus experience as an active firefighter.  That young woman hadn’t been lying.  She was obviously tired.  Obviously terrified of being denied college.  But she wasn’t lying.  That meant Maddie had lied.  And considering she’d lied about the existence of their dead brother for thirty years, he absolutely believed her capable.  She probably used the same rationalizations of protecting him, or of preserving familial harmony.

But this child was his.  He knew it in his soul and in the shape of her eyes and the birthmark on the back of her hand.  And even if, by some chance, she hadn’t been his the first time around, the devil had said it was giving him a child.  And here she was.  He had his youth and a child.  Here’s hoping that since it wasn’t his deal that he wasn’t the one to pay the price.

“What do I do now?”

[i] In 2005 abortion for minors was: in Pennsylvania (and Virginia) – legal for minors with parental consent, in Maryland – legal for minors with parental notification but not consent, in Delaware – legal for minors with parental notification but not consent, in New Jersey – legal for minors without parental notification or consent