The Tampa Bay Devil Rays

“Possibility is a tragedy if you think about it.”

Denise tugged her carry-on a bit closer to the row of gate seating.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

I was thumbing through an old copy of Sports Illustrated which had been left on the end table next to my own seat.

“Like there’s so many different paths that your life could take. I bet some of them are dazzling and beautiful. The only reason we aren’t paralyzed with loss is because we can’t see the beautiful lives we are losing by choosing wrong.”

“I guess, but I don’t really see it as a possibility.”

It was a pretty old copy of SI. There was a big article on the Tampa Bay Rays dropping the ‘devil’ moniker that had supposedly cursed them. It was a pretty interesting bit of superstition. Everyone knew it was the same team, but something about the appearance of a fresh start made a difference.

Denise was rubbing her palms on her jeans. It had always been a nervous tic of hers. During our reception I had to put my palm face up on her lap. That way, she had a hand to squeeze instead of streaking the white fabric of her dress.

“Well, anything is possible right?”

“Technically, but in reality that’s not what happens.”

“Obviously.”

“Sorry, I’m not explaining it well,” I apologized, shutting the magazine cover and trusting myself to look her in the face, “There’s not really ever going to be something like alternate timelines right? You can replay this ‘timeline’ as much as you want, but at the end of the day there’s no reason for you to do something different. You can always go back in time, but without something else changing, we always make the same mistake.”

Denise’s eyes were dark brown. I had forgotten that until I found myself staring into them. Even when she hardened her gaze, there was always a kindness to them. I hadn’t ever considered if that kindness was because I was because I was looking into them.

Had that kindness always just been something I had seen?

Maybe it wasn’t even her kindness?

I guess when someone’s important to you, their eyes are a kind of mirror. You’re just gonna see how you feel about them.

“That’s pretty cynical.”

“I guess.”

Some people were gathering near the gate, ready to pounce when the United employee announced boarding stages. I couldn’t remember Denise’s boarding number, but since her dad had bought the ticket I assumed she would have a high boarding group.

My gate was at another terminal. I had lied and told her I was just a couple gates down. Experience had taught her enough to know when I wasn’t being truthful, but she had let it go and still let me sit here.

Experience had taught me enough, too. She was thinking a lot of the same things I was thinking. We both wanted this time. Here we were, using it all on this conversation. It was very ‘us’.

“Well, I still think you can change things.”

I looked down when I heard her voice change. I’d probably have a hard time with mine if I saw.

“Once you go through an experience, sure. That changes you. But going back in time, it undoes the experience. It changes you back. You’re not that new person anymore.”

“No way but through, huh?”

“No way but through.”

They were on the fourth boarding group. I wanted to tell her she could go get on the plane now, but she knew. I didn’t want her to, either.

“It’s a pretty interesting idea.”

I heard her sniff and I kept looking at the ground. Blue on red carpeting. Not really handsome, but a complicated enough pattern that it credibly captured my attention. That’s what I told myself.

“That there’s no possibilities? I don’t know, I think it’s pretty grim and boring.”

“You’re the one arguing it.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I meant that interesting possibilities don’t exist in the past or present.”

“Yep, it’s just in a future you can’t see.”

“So anything’s possible in the future.”

“If you get through the present.”

She was quiet for a while. Group 7 boarding.

“I think I want to be different in the future,” she said quietly with another sniff. It barely sounded like her. “Well, the same, but different.”

“Tampa Bay Rays Denise.”

“What?”

“Sorry.”

Final boarding call.

Denise stood up and wheeled her carry on toward the gate. She was almost out of earshot when I stood up and called to her.

She turned around and I saw those kind eyes one last time. A few seconds later she disappeared around the corner of the gateway.

Now that I think about it, her kind eyes seemed awfully sad.