Welcome back. The journey between two worlds continues.
Chapter 8 – Keepsake
Nathan was mesmerized by the pendant’s shimmer. So many questions were flooding his mind, yet none of them seemed to reach his lips. One question, however, lingered more persistently than any other.
“How?”
Strong enough to make him wonder whether this golden chain with the shimmering hourglass was the very same one, or simply an identical copy of his own. Manny coughed once more, muffled and dry. Nathan finally looked at him. Manny’s expression showed relief and surprise. If only he would have known…
…
Sixteen years ago, in the same cabin, during summer, Ellie and Manny were in the backyard, watching the ducks play on the little lake.
“It will happen soon. I’m sorry, my dear,” Ellie said softly.
“It’s too early… our boy is so young, and I… I will be of no help to him. He… we need you, my love,” Manny said, taking her hand in his.
“I know. I don’t regret it. You know that. And you shouldn’t either. We did the right thing, even if this means Nat will need to grow up faster,” she said, softly stroking the hourglass pendant between two fingers.
“He’s a good boy…”
“Dear… remember. When the time comes, when he’s ready, give him this. When I’m gone, he will seek closure.”
“I will…” Manny said in a low voice, as a tear found its way down his cheek.
A few months passed after Ellie’s departure from both worlds. Manny held a few pictures in his hands and sighed. He opened the cabinet to put them away when he saw the small wooden box. Sadness clouded his face. He lifted the box and placed the pictures inside the cabinet.
With trembling hands, he opened the box, and with one finger he touched the necklace. He felt as if he were split in two. Pain rushed through his body as his mind flooded with flashes of his life. He fell to his knees and dropped the box.
He needed a while to recover, to have the waves of emotions subside. He picked up a napkin from the table, crumpled it, and took a coaster. Carefully placing the coaster on the worn rug, then used the napkin to slide the necklace onto it so he could return it to the box, taking great care not to touch it again.
“I understand, Ellie,” he said softly. “I will wait for out boy to come.”
…
Nathan wanted to finally say something, but Manny cut him off gently.
“I know, boy. So many questions. But now, trust me, even if your heart tells you not to. You need to go. Now.” Manny said with pressure on “now”
“But…”
“In time, all will be clear. Go… go my boy.”
Nathan looked once more into Manny’s eyes and, for the first time in a long time, he felt that his dad was back. Maybe the feeling didn’t come with his full trust, but enough to consider listening to him.
He put the necklace back in the box, turned around, and closed the door behind him. He barely managed to avoid stepping on Manny’s dinner, with a sudden, awkward dance that earned him a quick, annoyed gesture and muttered,
“Damn…” He straightened his coat as if nothing had happened.
Sara’s lights took him a bit by surprise
“How did she know?”
He got into the car without a word, placed the box in the inner pocket of his blazer, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes. Sara started moving as if everything was clear, no additional instructions needed. The next stop made was to pick up Sarah, who already receiving the notifocation that Nathan had left his father.
When Sarah got into the car, Nathan opened his eyes slightly, smiled, and then closed them again. He didn’t have the energy to do anything more. Sarah took her headset from her purse, placed it over her ears, and whispered,
“Is he OK?”
Sara replied directly into the headset.
“Physically, I see no issues. But since we left, he has displayed symptoms related to energy drain”
“What could have happened there?” Sarah whispered, taking Nathan’s hand in hers.
The road through the night was quiet. A half‑moon and a few lost stars could be seen through the car’s transparent ceiling. The only sounds were the hum of the tires on the asphalt, the soft whir of the electric motor, and Nathan’s heavy breathing.
They reached Nathan’s parking lot. Sarah got out, planning to gently wake him. But before she reached his side, a loud, happy bark shattered the night’s stillness. She turned as Migo jumped into her arms, barking and wagging his tail happily. Nathan woke and watched the scene through the windshield.
“Oh… cara Sarah! È passato un po’ di tempo dall’ultima volta che ci siamo viste! Migo, non è carino. Lascia in pace la signorina!” the Italian neighbor said, pulling on Migo’s leash.
“Buonasera Lenzo! Hai ragione!” she replied in fluent Italian, bending toward Migo. “Migo, sii gentile!”
“Happy to see you both. Ciao, cara Sara, Natalino! Andiamo, Migo,” he added, noticing Nathan getting out of the car. He waved casually and jogged away.
Sara’s door closed with a soft brush against Nathan’s leg, followed by a confirming beep. Sarah extended her hand, and without hesitation Nathan took it as the could not walk together any other way and left toward the house.
He wanted to ask her how many times she had been here, how comes she speak Italian so fluently, or what else she knew about his neighbor. But just thinking of how she reacted when he asked things expected him to already know, he changed his mind. Besides, her hand in his felt too good to ruin the moment. So, he chose to think of nothing and simply be happy.
The night unfolded as normally and domestically as it could have. The cat ignored Nathan almost entirely, staying close to Sarah instead. The dinner was simple and the conversation light. Sarah tactfully avoided the subject of his visit to his father. It all felt right. Comfortable. Familiar. Love.
Even small discoveries didn’t disturb the sense of well‑being: spare clothes for Sarah, how naturally she opened the closet and chose a silk nightgown, the presence of toiletries exactly as one would expect if someone truly belonged there. Were these imagined details or remembered ones?
When they went to bed, even letting the cat settle on Sarah’s back, purring happily, felt normal. Despite Nathan’s normal rule not to allow the cat overnight, who tended to wake him at four in the morning purring right in hie ears, nothing else felt out of place.
The night passed quietly. Nathan was awoken gently by the sunbeams filtering through half‑drawn curtains. As he sat up, the cat leapt onto his chest, looked him in the eyes, meowed once, and walked away, as if it simply wanted to wish him good morning.
Only then did Nathan look to the other side of the bed. Sarah wasn’t there. And, before he could call her out, he noticed a note on the nightstand.
“Morning, sleepy head! Emergency at work. Had to leave. Later! I love you, Olivia!”
He set the note down slowly.
“Olivia…” he murmured. “So here I am again…”
The rest of the morning flowed with an eerie normality. The same sandwich. The same precision. No rush. And yet, beneath it all, a sense that something was not right it lingers, or that something was about to happen.
His eyes fell on the Science and Technology magazine on the coffee table, with striked names, and smiled. He checked the issue date and smirked.
“Damn. Why is this still here?”
The sound of the magazine hitting the table triggered a memory. The moment when he closed the small wooden box at Manny’s house.
“The necklace…”
He rushed to the coat he had worn the night before, checking each pocket in turns. Right pocket… nothing. Then the left inner pocket. He took out only a folded piece of paper, which he dropped to the floor. And finally, the right inner pocket.
There it was.
Relief washed over him as he crouched down, box clenched in his palm. He just stood up when his eyes fell on the paper below.
“To Nat.”
His mother’s handwriting. With trembling hands, he picked it up nnd unfolded it.
“Nathan,
My dear boy,
If you are reading this, it means you grew up. You became a man — ready to face a crude reality. And as I know you, you are open to reconciling with your dad. And you will. Soon.
It’s time for you to learn more about yourself — about your forgotten story, about your legacy. When you’re ready, you’ll know what to do.
Remember: You were always loved. You are always loved. We will love you forever.
Love,
Mom”
His knees buckled, and he sat down, reading the note again and again. At last, he placed it on the table, opened the box, and looked at the necklace once more. The image of the necklace hanging from the rear‑view mirror flashed through his mind.
He closed the box, slipped on his shoes, grabbed his coat, and headed for the parking lot, while one foot in a shoe and the other refusing to go in, trying to find the sleeve of his coat with awkward movements.
At the car, he scanned the surroundings, half‑expecting the neighbor or Migo to appear. Nothing. He sat down and removed the necklace from the box, then looked at the one hanging from the rear-view mirror.
There was no doubt, they were the same. The same golden chain, the same small hourglass pendant.
“But why two?” he whispered.
As he lifted one closer to the other, both hourglasses began to shimmer faintly and started to move toward each other by an unseen force. Startled, he pulled them apart. Then he tried it again.
“No… not now. Not here.”
He carefully returned one necklace to the box, untangled the other from the mirror, and placed them in separate pockets before hurrying back. At home, he set both necklaces on the coffee table, a few palms apart. Slowly, deliberately, he brought them closer.
The pull intensified.
On impulse, or maybe instinct, he let go. The two crystal hourglasses clinked together with a clear sound, forming a cross. It began to spin, glowing brighter and turn faster, until a blinding flash forced him to raise his hand to shield his eyes.
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