Free On Black Wings by Sylvia Storm

some, there was some horse that came up to the back door, it should have been here by now. It took me away from here, I ended up in some diner downtown.”
    “On a horse?” His voice is low, gravelly. “And those wings? Why do you have wings? Why are they black?”
    “I don’t know.” I want to be honest with him, I move my mouth but I can’t explain why I changed or why I’m changing. “Brad, I don’t know. Don’t you remember waking up with me this morning? Did I faint in the bathroom? Did you see anything on my back? Scars?”
    “No I-” He stops, rubbing his tear-filled eyes in agony. “Wait, I don’t know, it’s a haze. I remember us talking when we got up, something about you having nightmares. I calmed, wait, yes-”
    “It feels so fuzzy.” He stares at me. “I remember the scars, yes. I remember you fainting, but after that, I don’t know. I remember you getting up, and saying you’re fine, and I don’t know why but it’s hazy after that and I remember accepting it and damn, forgetting about the whole thing.”
    He draws a long breath. “If you had scars like that I was going to take you to the hospital. But I didn’t? Something, I don’t know, something made me act like this was a normal day. Like I was going to call you in, drop the kids off, and let you go. Damn, Jess, how come I feel so, so drugged or fuzzy about all this?”
    “Something-” I grab his hands. They are so warm, so good to feel in my hands. “There’s something messed up, I don’t know, maybe with time. Like that TV show, Time Wizard. Where I’m from one time, and going between two or more, and we can’t figure out why. Maybe I came back as my older self, and I started to change, and you seen the scars, but I left and time is trying to fix itself by making the right things happen.”
    “Jess I-” He’s a fan of the show just like me, we watch it together on Sunday nights. “What do you mean?”
    I squeeze his hands tighter, and this is really the only explanation I have. A campy British television show is my only frame of reference and way to explain things, great. “As humans we can’t even begin to comprehend what’s happening to us if time is messed up. We could be in more than one place at a time. We could be crossing paths from different times. It’s why I’m younger, there’s something wrong with the younger me, I don’t know, I’m just guessing here.”
    “As humans we can’t do this,” he says, pulling my hands towards him, “then what are you? Are you real? What’s with the wings? How did you know? How did you get here? Is this a joke?”
    I don’t have any answers, so I drop my head on the table. “Listen, Brad, I have no idea. Maybe it’s not different times, maybe it’s different worlds. I don’t know what I am.”
    He lets my hands go. He’s quiet. He speaks as if the words choke him up. “You, and the kids are dead. How am I supposed to deal with that?”
    I look up at him, slowly. “How am I supposed to deal with this?”
    He stares right through me. “Is it always about you?”
    “Jesus, Brad, why now?” I slap the table. “This isn’t a fight. Do you think I like watching myself die? The kids? Not being able to do anything about it? This is the second time-”
    His expression changes.
    “The second time?” He gets up, his face like stone. “The second time? What the hell, Jess?”
    “You are so unfair-”
    “So this is about fair?” He’s hysterical. “Fair to who, you? How about fair to me? How about that? You can just wish yourself away, can’t you? Well, why don’t you do just that, wish yourself away to a happier time where it’s just you, and you don’t have to worry about kids you never wanted to have-”
    I stand, I’m not thinking but I stand. The tears are flowing down my face but I don’t even know they are there. I’m moving my mouth but the words aren’t coming out.
    Brad is staring me down. I retreat, bumping into our floor lamp, stepping back