Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

of course, had pretended it was an accident, a doddering old man falling down the stairs. They concocted ridiculous stories to save their precious reputation. It wouldn’t do to have a member of the family die under mysterious circumstances. Mundane death was so much more palatable.
    Sebastian was a slight on the family name in life, and nothing changed that in death. He was swept away from sight, another skeleton to hide in the family closet. Simon did his best to crawl in after him, to hide in the darkness. Even his life’s work was best suited to the shadows. The few times he’d let someone in had ended badly. More often than not, he’d ended the relationships before they could begin. Then Elizabeth had come into his life. All the walls he’d built were slowly being worn away. Until now, when the cracks became fissures, and the walls started to crumble. He could feel the past repeating itself. Was he strong enough to face it all again? Or could he change his destiny?
    The things that had once defined him, detachment and control, lay in rubble at his feet. She’d given him the chance to live again, and he’d thrown it in her face. Judging from the way she’d treated him since, she wasn’t about to forgive him. Not that he deserved her forgiveness. Or would even know what to do with it if it were given. Not much to worry about there either; she would be gone in the morning, just as she had been every morning since Coney Island. Yet, somehow, hope flickered in his chest, refusing to be snuffed out completely.
    Knowing Charlie’s was the only place he’d see her, Simon went in early. The bar was eerily quiet. Empty tables, empty chairs: the perfect place for an empty man. Charlie was putting a new picture of Lillian Gish on the wall behind the bar. He straightened the corners and stood back to admire his work.
    “Pretty little thing, ain’t she?”
    “Hmm? Oh, I suppose,” Simon said, as he took a seat on one of the wooden stools. He’d never felt so at sixes and sevens; a bleak future ahead, and nothing but mistakes behind him.
    Charlie shook his head and pulled out the bottle of Glenlivet from behind the counter. “You got it bad,” he said and set-up two cups. “Lizzy still givin’ ya the cold shoulder?”
    Simon’s frown was answer enough, and Charlie nodded in commiseration. “Want a snort? Cure what ails ya?”
    Simon desperately wanted a drink, but feared he wouldn’t be able to stop with just one. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
    Charlie opened the bottle and poured the drinks. “Naw, probably not.” He slid one cup across the wooden counter to Simon. “Sometimes wise ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
    Simon laughed and took the cup, but he didn’t drink. Charlie raised his cup in toast. “Here’s mud in yer eye.”
    Simon breathed in the scent, letting it fill his lungs with pungent warmth before taking a sip. “Quite good.”
    Charlie nodded and stared down into his empty cup. His usually jovial face was lined with worry. “You try the flowers?”
    “I think we’re well beyond that,” Simon said, surprised at his willingness to talk to the man, but he felt too tired to fight it anymore.
    “I know you don’t want me stickin’ my nose in, but bein’ alone ain’t good for no man.”
    Charlie’s wide shoulders seemed bowed under some unseen pressure. He looked at Simon with unaccustomed passion, a ghost of pain floating in his eyes. Simon knew the look. He’d seen it often enough in the mirror. “Who was she?”
    Charlie’s meaty face wrinkled in a mixture of chagrin and sorrow. “Mary. She was beautiful, my Mary.” He poured another drink and looked down into the cup, his eyes dreamy and distant. “Seems like yesterday.”
    Charlie closed his eyes for a moment and smiled ruefully. “A real looker. And a sweeter girl you never will find. Met her in the park. Saw her walking with her sister, real pinched-face sort of broad. Just made Mary look even prettier. Not that she needed the help.”
    He stopped for a moment, poured another and took a deep drink of the Scotch. “Minute I laid eyes on her, I knew she was the girl for me. Crazy, huh?”
    Simon shook his head, remembering the first day he’d seen Elizabeth. She was a student in his class then and had the gall to interrupt his lecture. She raised her hand and challenged his theory on the motivational hunger of lycanthropics. He was annoyed at the disruption and impressed with her audacity. But it