In For a Penny by James P. Blaylock Page A

as he sat down on the lawn, laying the objects on his knees, compelling himself to concentrate on them and not on the approaching footsteps, which stopped close by. He opened his eyes and looked up, feeling like an idiot. His father stood a few feet away, a golf club in his hands, staring down at him. Alan stared back in momentary confusion. He might have been looking at his own brother.
    “Why don’t you just stay there,” his father said, “so I don’t have to bean you with this driver.”
    “Sure.”
    “What were you doing in the house?”
    For a time Alan couldn’t answer. When he found his voice he said simply, “I’m Alan.”
    “Okay. I’m Phil. Pardon me if I don’t shake your hand. What the hell were you doing in my house? What were you looking for?”
    Alan smiled at the question, which was no easier to answer than the last one. “My past,” he said. “I was looking for my past. You don’t recognize me, do you? You can’t.”
    “What do you mean, your past? Did you used to live here or something? This is some kind of nostalgia thing?”
    “Yeah. I used to live here.”
    “So what are you doing with my son’s stuff? That’s from his room, isn’t it? That dog and the tiki?”
    “It’s from his room. But I didn’t steal it.”
    “You’re just borrowing it?”
    “Yes,” Alan said softly. Then, “No, it’s mine, too. I
am
Alan. … Dad.” He had to force himself to say it out loud, and he found that there were tears welling in his eyes. His father still stood staring at him, his own face like a mask.
    Alan went on, pulling random bits from his memory: “You bought me the aquarium at that place in Garden Grove, off Magnolia Street. We got a bunch of fish, and they all ate each other, and we had to go back down there and buy more. And you know the cracked shade on the lamp in the living room? Me and Eddie Landers did that by accident after school on Halloween day when we were waiting for Mom to come home. That was probably last Halloween, or maybe two years ago at the most. I was the mummy, remember? Eddie was Count Dracula. He was staying here because his parents were out of town. Let me show you something,” he said, carefully laying the five trinkets on the brick pad in front of the shed door and then shifting forward to get to his feet. His father took a step back, and the head of the golf club rose where it had been resting on the lawn. Alan stopped moving. “Can I get up?”
    “Okay. Slowly, eh?”
    “Sure. Just getting my wallet.” Alan stood, reaching into his back pocket. He took his driver’s license out of his wallet and held it out. “Look at the date.” He pocketed the wallet, and his father took the card, turning it so that it was illuminated by moonlight. “Above the picture,” Alan told him. He heard laughter from inside the house now, and realized that it was himself, probably watching television, still oblivious to everything going on outside here.
    After glancing at it his father handed the license back. “I guess I don’t get it,” he said. But clearly he did get it; he simply couldn’t believe it.
    Alan put the license into his shirt pocket. “I came back from – from thirty years from now. In the future.” He pointed at the objects lying on the bricks. “You and I buried this stuff in a coffee can, like a treasure, under the first stepping stone, right there.”
    “We did, eh? We buried them? When was that?”
    Alan shrugged. “Any day now, I guess. Next month? I don’t know, but we buried them. We will, anyway. I came back and dug them up.”
    There was the sound of the back door opening, and his mother came out onto the back stoop, looking in their direction. “What are you doing, dear?” she asked with feigned cheerfulness. “Is everything all right?” Probably she was ready to call the police.
    “Yeah, it’s fine,” Alan’s father said back to her. “Just … putting some stuff away.” She stepped back into the house and shut the