Map: Part XVIII

An excerpt from Fernando Buchante’s Journal:

I am growing old again, and, as always, fear death. I never had any intentions of leaving anything behind, as I thought it would never come to that, but now I must. I must leave everything behind, including a warning: You cannot repeat the past.

In my youth I thought I could; I thought I was a god. The first time I grew old, I knew I alone could conquer death, so I did.

I used the watch, and I reversed until I was freshly young, still with the watch in my hands, its power newly discovered.

But life is not the same the second time around. I learned very quickly that it is impossible to recreate the exact same life. Even when you try to make the same decisions, something will go differently, because your mind is different. It is filled with knowledge and false memories.

Living a new life is exciting at first, but even still I mourn what I once had. My friends are different. My wife is different. My children are different.

And when you know what you once had, the loss is even more bitter. There is no way to win but to succumb to the new life you must live.

Believe me, no amount of reversing will bring an old life back. You, yourself, are forever changed. That is why I hid the treasure away. I cannot have the temptation, and no one else must know.

No one but you, my son. Forgive me for my sins and do not make the same mistakes as I.

I leave you with this map for the treasure. Use it only in case of an emergency.

Know that the more you mess with time, the more you mess with yourself. I alone know how tired one is after living three full lives. Three lives stuffed into one head, can you even imagine?

Although I am afraid of death, I am more afraid of losing my mind, for even now I forget what memories are from this life.

The entry ended, but there was more writing on the next page, this time under the name Marcelo Buchante. Another relative.

I am the grandson of Fernando Buchante. My father gave me the map as a boy to play with. He never believed in Grandfather’s stories. But I did.

I made it my life’s mission to find Grandfather’s treasure, so at 18 I came to America. It took many years, but I never gave up. For him.

Finally I understand why Grandfather went crazy in his old age. He knew a way to cheat death. Luckily, he hid the watch somewhere he knew he wouldn’t come back to. I, myself, am too afraid to use it.

I believe in its ability, but I could not stand truly believing: actually seeing.

I leave it here, for the next of my kin to find.

Awed, Aaron flipped through the pages, skimming. Names of his ancestors jumped out at him, and Buchante changed to Torres, starting with his great-grandmother.

Then he saw the latest entry. Ben Torres.

His father.

Aaron looked at Rosie, who hadn’t spoken in a while, but she refused to meet his eye. She stared down at her hands and picked at her hoodie sleeves.

Barely breathing, Aaron turned back to the journal.

I would have never believed this to be true, but here I am. It seems only right that I, like so many have before me, record my story.

I must admit that I gave into the temptation; I used the watch. But I still don’t know if I made the right choice. Although, in a way, I think I do know.

I never even tried to look for this treasure until I was 23. I had just married Angela and she was pregnant. But when the baby came unexpectedly, I lost her.

Aaron set the journal down for a second. His mother… dead?

Rosie looked at him now, sadness in her eyes. She gently took his hand. “Keep reading,” she quietly urged.

He gave her hand a squeeze, and, with a deep breath, continued.

I was an awful parent and lived in a deep depression for some time. After a year, I still couldn’t move on, and, in desperation, followed advice from my father. We had never been close, but he had told me that if all goes wrong, use the map.

And I did.

I then found the reason he had moved us here, had been involved in protecting the forest area, keeping the green space. It was no coincidence.

I found the watch. He had never told me what the treasure was, and I am glad, for knowing is an impossible burden.

And at the end of it all, I did what my broken heart needed me to do. I saved Angela. I checked her into the hospital early, and she survived.

Now I have a wife and a beautiful baby boy. This time, Aaron. I had to convince Angela not to name him Oliver again. I wouldn’t have been able to bear it.

Aaron, if you find this, know that I love you and your mother more than anything. How can I regret undoing Oliver’s life when I have both of you? He felt nothing, he doesn’t exist. And yet how can I say I don’t regret the loss of that son, trading his year of life for both of yours?

It was an impossible decision, but one that I had to make.

The watch is dangerous, Aaron. Be careful.

Aaron read his father’s entry again, unbelieving. Was Oliver a brother he never had? Or was Oliver himself, with a different name? Could they be the same person if they had lived completely different lives? Was he, Aaron, supposed to exist at all?

How could he wrap his head around that?

“You’ve read this?” Aaron asked Rosie, his voice weirdly hoarse.

Rosie nodded. “I was here with you once before,” she reminded him.

“That’s insane,” he choked out, “I can’t believe it.”

Rosie didn’t look sad anymore, just calmly determined. She touched his cheek, brushing her fingers across his skin.

He didn’t know until that moment that he was crying.

Read part I: https://theprose.com/post/243841/map

Previous: https://theprose.com/post/252145/map-part-xvii

Next (The End): https://theprose.com/post/252964/map-part-xix-the-end