The Arcade
Chapter 7

He wheeled up into the yard and came to a stop. He looked up at the house he lived in so many years ago – that is to say – now, and felt an odd sense of emotion. It took a moment to place the feeling, until he realized it was the way he felt when, as a boy, he would replace himself cold and wet on a rainy day, wanting nothing more than to come home to a warm, dry house filled with the sound of his parent’s voices, and the smell of the wood smoke from the fireplace. It was the feeling of safety and of love.

While he stood outside the house simultaneously remembering and living the past (he still caught himself thinking past-tense), the front door opened and out bounded a smallish, brown and black floppy-eared dog.

“Skipper!” cried Cosmo, nearly choking on the name. The beagle had been dead for nearly twenty-five years, and not a day went by that Cosmo hadn’t mourned the loss of his dog. He had gotten him as a puppy for Christmas, the year he turned ten.

“Hey-a buddy, how’s my little skipper, huh?” Cosmo knelt down to let the little dog jump up to lick him on the face, tail wagging furiously. “Boy have I missed you!” One day, weeks before Cosmo graduated high school, he and the little dog were playing in the front yard with a tennis ball. After running down and returning the ball to Cosmo countless times, Skipper misjudged one toss that had taken a bad hop, and chased it into the street into the path of a small pick-up truck. The driver of the truck didn’t see the little beagle until it was too late.

He knelt there in the front yard for a few more moments, enjoying the warmth of his dog’s coat against his cheek, and the happy whine of his old friend, thankful he could have this chance again.

At that moment, the door opened again and Cosmo saw his mother poke her head out to call for Skipper. Just as she opened her mouth, she caught sight of Cosmo “Well look who’s home early! I wasn’t expecting you home until supper. Is everything okay?”

Cosmo looked up at his mother. He can’t remember the last time he actually just looked at her. She had a pretty smile, and it seemed to him that her eyes twinkled. Wait – his mother had green eyes! He had never noticed that before.

“Hi mom! I…uh…yeah! Yeah, everything’s okay. I just got a headache – from the black lights in the arcade, I guess – and felt a little woozy, so I thought I would come home and chill out for a while.” He stood up and walked toward the front door, Skipper dancing around him the whole way.

A slight frown creased his mother’s face “Well then, you had better come in and lie down for a while. You put a cold washcloth on your head, and I’ll fix you a bowl of chicken soup. That should make you feel a bit better, don’t you think?” His mother’s solution to all the hurts and wrongs in the world was a bowl of chicken soup and a cold washcloth. She probably believed that Stalin would have been a much nicer man if only he had eaten more chicken soup and put the occasional cold washcloth on his forehead.

“That sounds good, mom – thanks. And mom? I love you.”

At this she cocked her head to one side and grinned “I love you too, stinky! Now off you go – upstairs with you, and I’ll be up in a bit with your soup.” She patted him on the shoulder as he walked past her into the house.

Walking into the house, he took in all the sights around him. It was as if nothing had changed in thirty years: the furniture was exactly as he remembered it; the television was where it had always been; mom’s afghan was still draped over the back of the sofa, and dad’s pipe was in it’s ashtray. Cosmo could even detect the faint scent of dad’s pipe tobacco: ‘Cherry Vanilla’.

He walked up the stairs to his bedroom and saw all the family pictures that lined the wall. He remembered when each of them was taken. There were school pictures, family pictures from an Olan Mills studio, vacation pictures, and holiday pictures. All of them carefully arranged on the wall ascending the stairs by his mother. She loved family pictures. For him, though, it was really the first time he paid attention to them.

To him, they seemed like visual chapters in his life: kindergarten, third grade, camping in the Cascades, the trip to Seattle, Christmas at his aunt’s three years ago when all the family was there. There was also a black and white picture of his mom and dad in Philadelphia, standing in front of the Liberty Bell.

He got to the top of the stairs and, quite without thinking, turned to the right and into his room. He stood there, in the middle of the floor, and simply looked around. He hadn’t stood here in this spot in over thirty years, and yet he remembered everything. What was disconcerting was that a part of him was expecting to see something different, although he didn’t know what that something should or could be. He stood rooted to the spot scratching his head for a moment, not sure what to do.

“What’s the matter, kid – lost?” Cosmo jumped at the voice and simultaneously yelped. Spinning around to see the source of the voice, his eyes came to rest on the smiling figure of Sal. He was leaning on a push broom.

“Wha-what the heck are you doing here? How did you get in? How did you get past my mom? How did you get past my dog? How…?”

Sal held up a hand to calm Cosmo’s rambling questions. “Easy kid, easy. One question at a time.”

Cosmo gaped pop-eyed at him for a long moment, then with a quick shake of his head began again “ Okay, first question: How did you get here – as in, how did you know where I live?”

Sal leaned on his broom and, smiling, replied “That isn’t really important, but if it helps, think of me as sort of a guardian angel. In other words, I always know where you’re at. Next question, please.”

“Oka-aay,” Cosmo continued “how did you get past mom and the dog?”

Sal winked and replied, “Refer back to the ‘angel’ part of this conversation. Next question.”

Cosmo just blinked. “Angel…? Nevermind – look, what the heck are you doing here, anyway? My mom is on her way up here with some soup, and I was about to lay down. All of this has got my head spinning.” Cosmo sat down rather heavily on his bed.

Sal looked at him for a moment. “Well, kiddo – it’s like this, you’re now fourteen. You haven’t been fourteen for two hours and already you’ve managed to change not only your future, but the future of at least one other person. Have you given any thought to that?”

Cosmo looked up at him with a puzzled expression “Huh? What do you mean?”

Sal sighed and shook his head. “What I mean, dear boy, is that every – and I mean every action and choice is going to have consequences, and many of those consequences will be unforeseen. In this instance, you have taken actions which have altered the course of not only your life, but also of Holly’s. The changes may only be minute, at first – but they compound on an exponential scale over the course of time.”

Now it was Cosmo’s chance to sigh. “Alright, assuming for the moment that I know what you’re talking about – which I don’t – how am I to know what choices I should and shouldn’t make? I mean – you’re the one who suggested I talk to Holly.” Cosmo crossed his arms and looked at Sal. “So what do I do now?”

Sal moved to sit in the chair next to Cosmo’s bed. “It’s as I explained to you earlier – you have the opportunity to do things over. The trick is knowing what things to do over. You still have all the knowledge of the future up to your forty-third year of life,” Sal explained “and with that knowledge, you must consider very carefully which actions to take that will change the outcome of certain events in your future.”

Cosmo thought about this for a moment, and scratching his head looked at Sal. “So what you’re saying is – if I screw something up this time around, there’s no fixing it?”

Sal nodded “Exactly, my boy…exactly. So you must think carefully before you act…” At this Sal stood up. “…but don’t let yourself get all paranoid about everyday life. You’ll know the significant events you may wish to change when they come along.”

Cosmo looked out his bedroom window at the tree by his mailbox “But Sal - how will I know which event I need to alter?” There was no answer. Cosmo turned to look at him “Sal...?”

Sal was gone.