The Time Traveler's Almanac

“Don’t,” I whispered. We were sitting near a sunny stretch of beach in southern France, hiding ourselves behind a large rock from the family picnicking below us. “Don’t worry about me, please.”

“You’ve got to face it. I can’t make too many more of these journeys. I’m growing weaker.”

I tried to say something but my vocal cords were locked, frozen inside my throat. The voices of the family on the beach were piercing. I wondered, idly, how many of them would die in their coming world war.

Yuri held my hand, opened his lips to say something else, then vanished. I clutched at the empty air in desperation. “No!” I screamed. “Not yet! Come back!”

I found myself, once again, at the Time Station.

*   *   *

I had been a spendthrift. Now I became a miser, going to the Time Station only two or three times a month, trying not to waste the few remaining visits I had with Yuri. I was no longer working on the tree dwellings. We had finished our designs and now those who enjoyed working with their hands had begun construction.

A paralysis seized me. I spent days alone in my house, unable even to clothe myself, wandering from room to room. I would sleep fitfully, then rise and, after sitting for a few hours alone, would sleep again.

Once, I forced myself to walk to the Slumber House and asked them to put me to sleep for a month. I felt the same after awakening, but at least I had been able to pass that lonely month in unconsciousness. I went to the Time Station, visited Yuri, and went back to the Slumber House to ask for another month of oblivion. When I awoke the second time, two men were standing over me, shaking their heads. They told me I would have to see a Counselor before they would put me to sleep again.

I had been a Counselor once myself, and I knew all their tricks. Instead, I went home and waited out the time between my visits to the Time Station.

This could not go on indefinitely. The list of remaining coordinates grew shorter until there was only one set left, and I knew I would see Yuri for the last time.

*   *   *

We met by a large wooden summer home that overlooked a small lake. It was autumn there and Yuri began to shiver in the cool air. I managed to open the back door of the house and we went inside, careful not to disturb anything.

Yuri lay on one of the couches, his head on my lap. Outside, the thick wooded area that surrounded the house was bright with colors, orange, red, yellow. A half-grown fawn with white spots on its back peered in the window at the other end of the room, then disappeared among the trees.

“Do you regret anything?” Yuri suddenly asked. I stroked his white hair and managed a smile.

“No, nothing.”

“You’re sure.”

“Yes,” I said, trying to keep my voice from quavering.

“I have one regret, that I didn’t meet you sooner. But I wouldn’t have met you at all, except for that promise I made.”

“I know,” I said. We had talked about our meeting at least a thousand times. The conversation had become a ritual, yet I wanted to go over it again. “You were so blatant, Yuri, coming to my door like that, out of nowhere. I thought you were a little crazy.”

He smiled up at me and repeated what he had said then. “Hello, I’m Yuri Malenkov. I know this is a little strange, but I promised a friend of mine I met today I’d see you. Do you mind if I come in for a little while?”

“And I was so surprised I let you in.”

“And I never left.”

“I know, and you’re still around.” Tears stung my eyes.

“You were the only person aside from that friend that I could talk to honestly right away.”

By then tears were running down my cheeks. “You never told me anything about your friend,” I said abruptly, breaking the ritual.

“An acquaintance, really. I never saw that person again after that.”

“Oh, Yuri, what will I do now? You can’t leave me. I can’t let you die again.”

“Don’t,” he murmured. “You don’t have much longer. Can’t you see what’s happening to you?”

“No.”

“Get up and look in the mirror over the fireplace.”

I rose, wandered over to the mirror, and looked. The signs were unmistakable. My once jet-black hair was lightly sprinkled with silver and tiny lines were etched into the skin around my eyes.

“I’m dying,” I said. “My body isn’t rejuvenating itself anymore.” I felt a sudden rush of panic; then the fear vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by calm. I hurried back to Yuri’s side.

“It won’t be long,” he said. “Try to do something meaningful with those last months. We’ll be together again soon, just keep thinking of that.”

“All right, Yuri,” I whispered. Then I kissed him for the last time.

*   *   *

I did not fear death and do not fear it now. I became calmer, consoled by the fact that I would not be alone much longer.