Welcome to The Spot Writers. This month, the prompt is: Someone has a superpower but only for one day a week.
This week’s
contribution comes from Chiara De Giorgi. Chiara is currently in Berlin,
Germany, doing her best to catch up with semi-abandoned writing projects. Her
YA novel “Mi chiamo Elisa” was published in Italy by “Le Mezzelane Casa
Editrice” in September 2020.
***
One week at a time
by Chiara De Giorgi
 |
| Photo by Sdf Rahbar on Unsplash |
The day I
gained my powers was the day I tried to tell Kim I liked her for the first
time.
My crush on her
was serious, and I was sure she liked me back, but she was shy and I… I felt as
inept in that area as George McFly in “Back to the future” before his son Marty
went back in time and changed things.
Kim and I were
sitting on a bench just outside school. I wanted to take her hand, but my own
hands were too sweaty for that, so I decided to improvise and that was the
moment I went full George McFly and told her huskily: “I’m your density”.
I shouldn’t
have compared myself to the guy so much in my mind. Kim looked at me, quite
puzzled, then one of her girlfriends called her and she ran away.
Frustrated, I
went home, thinking what a shame it was that we’d never be together. I was
still brooding, when a paper airplane came in through the open window and
landed on my desk. I picked it up and realized there was a message written on
the wings. “Want to go back in time and try again?” asked one wing. “Once
a week, you can” replied the other.
I laughed. Was
that some kind of prank? I looked out the window but saw no one. Whoever had
sent me the missive wasn’t around anymore. After pondering the situation for a
minute, I shrugged and said out loud: “Okay. Let’s go back, then.”
In the blink of
an eye, I found myself sitting on the bench with Kim. My pulse quickened: I had
another chance; I mustn’t blow it. But of course I did. I was too stunned to
utter a single sound, her girlfriend called her, and off she went. But this
time I was full of hope: next week, I’d try again.
One week passed
and back in time and to the bench I went. I was so exhilarated, that I started laughing and
could not stop. On a positive note, Kim started laughing with me. On a negative
note, we were still laughing when her friend called her and she was gone once
again.
The following
week, in my trip back to the past, I asked Kim to meet me at the library in two hours, because we needed to
talk. She gave me a smile that filled my heart with joy, and as I crossed the street,
I was thinking that this would be the day when Kim and I finally got together.
A silly grin on my face, I didn’t notice the car running towards me, and got
hit. My leg and my phone broke, I ended up in the emergency room and could not
tell Kim about the accident. The next time I saw her, she was accompanied by a
very tall, very blond-haired, very blue-eyed guy she had met at the library.
And I was forced to see her with him for weeks afterwards, because I could not
go back to the afternoon we had sat together on the bench until my leg was
healed, it would be confusing to have it broken before the accident ever
happened. The blond guy was a decent guy, I must admit, however I knew that he
was wrong for Kim, because he wasn’t me. I promised myself (and, secretly, I
promised Kim, too) that I would resume my time-travels as soon as my leg was
fixed.
I won’t bore
you with the account of all my failed attempts at confessing my love to Kim. There
were many, and I was worried I’d grow old before I was able to do that properly.
One day I was
feeling particularly discouraged, but it was the one day in the week when I
could go back in time, so I did it. As usual, we were sitting on the bench, and I was
scowling, foreseeing another disaster.
“Are you okay?”
Kim asked me. “You look vexed.”
“Yeah”, I
replied, a bit rudely. And then I told myself, Go ahead and just
tell her how you feel, blow it, it doesn't matter, you’re going to be back in a week’s time anyway! So
I said: “I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I like you since forever, but I
can never find the words or the way or the right moment… I’m such a loser!”
“Oh?” she said.
I didn’t look at her, I was too disheartened. After a couple of seconds, she
took my hand. “I like you, too”, she whispered. I turned my head and looked at
her. She was smiling.
***
The Spot Writers—Our Members:
Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/
Catherine A. MacKenzie:
https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/
Phil Yeats:
https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com
Chiara De Giorgi:
https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/
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