Rebecca

 "I can taste purple!", she cried in astonishment. The words came from her mouth; she could hear it. She was astonished that she had said it.

The statement was nonsensical, yet in the context of her fragile state it made perfect sense. Blood poured from her smashed mouth. I think her teeth were still there. Loosened, but still there. Purple tastes like over ripe fruit, sweet and yet dead flesh. It is complete, it has fulfilled it's purpose but has gone beyond. It has begun to take the scent of decay, the decay in turn affects the fruit. Purple has the taste of death.

I don't think she knew I was there. I'm not even certain that I was there. I had no memory of how I had arrived at this time and place, yet I knew it. This was Rebecca and this was the river road. Most people had always wanted to call her Becky, but for reasons I never understood she had always insisted that her name was Rebecca. I had always called her that.

The car was far from totaled. She, or someone, would probably be able to drive it away. This isn't how I recalled this event having gone. The situation I could see before me told me, not only where this was, but when. She was supposed to be dead by now. As it was, she would probably live. Nothing some oral surgery couldn't repair. She was still in shock.

It was a pleasant day. A not too warm day in May. All the windows were down on the car. The Pretenders' Brass in pocket was still playing from the radio as I maneuvered to the passenger side. I stole another look at her then. Her long, straight blonde hair obscured most of her face. Some of it was matted against her bloodied cheeks and jowls and there were still a few strands clinging to the steering wheel. She was supposed to have landed in the river by that time, but the sequence of events had been altered.

She started sobbing. It seemed that for the first moment since the abrupt halt of her forward momentum, she had become aware of where she was and what had just happened. She blinked against the tears as bloody snot bubbles erupted from her face. From the passenger door I looked down into the floor in front of the passenger seat. There was the culprit, that little turtle. He was turned over on the floor mat, his little legs flailing in the air. A glass bowl was broken neatly, in nearly equal halves, the multi-colored stones from within were spilled everywhere. I reached in and gently picked the turtle up, then tossed it to the riverbank beyond. In the original timeline the turtle had landed in the river, though still inside of the white sedan.

Rebecca looked up, still disoriented. "Hey! Thats my turtle!"

"I think you have greater things to worry about right now, Rebecca."

She pulled at the matted strands about her face, wiping away blood and tears. She tried to clear her vision, to focus upon my face. "Do...do I know you? How did you know....", and then a sudden realization entered her eyes.

"I've known you for over fifty years, Rebecca. You're less than two miles up this road from the red brick house on High Street, the house you grew up in."

"Who are you?"

"You know who I am."

"I think I do, but...that can't be..."

"You were supposed to die today, Rebecca. Right back there. You were supposed to reach for that little turtle when it fell off the seat, then steer off the road, bank off the guardrail and land upside down in the river."

Through the fear and the confusion, she suddenly grasped upon something. "It's you! You were in the road...I...I slammed on the brakes! I thought I hit you!"

 "You're going to be fine. I will stay here with you until the squad comes."

A song entered my head, a song from my own time. It was a song I wanted to share with her in that moment, but I knew that was impossible. The people who had made this song were not even born yet. It played in my head while I waited patiently. Rebecca fretted about her coming graduation. A graduation she was not even meant to make, three weeks hence. This was Sunday.

Another ten minutes passed. Someone passing had made the call, the familiar white and orange rescue squad now approached with lights and siren blazing. It was time for me to go.

"Rebecca! Listen to me...I want you to remember something, okay?"

"Okay,... what?"

"Someday, years and years from now.... when you play your favorite songs, wear dark sunglasses."

"What!?"

"Just remember. Favorite songs. Dark glasses."