Mr. Merson Goes Home

By John Keeler Mitchell

The perfect rainy night read...especially if your high school days are a long way back in the rear-view mirror! On a hot summer night in L.A., Keith Merson walks out the back door of a nostalgia club and into his own past, moving from 2009 back to 1959, from age 67 to 17. Same mind set, but in the body of a senior in high school, surrounded by his old contemporaries and a chance to test the time-honored axiom: “If I’d known then what I know now.” Ever wonder what it would be like? See the old gang again? Make another play for that cute girl across the street? Keith gets that second chance and says YES. But hovering over it all is the risk of not being able to return to his life in his own future. Is Keith condemned to relive it all a second time?

What a fun book! -- Johnnie Parker

I was totally hooked! All the things I look for in a good book. -- Bellareads

I read it all in one night. -- Elizabeth Brown

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Keeler Mitchell
• Release date: Aug 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370792573

John Keeler Mitchell

Boy writer, train freak, baseball nut and movies guy. On the heels of too many years in aerospace putting words in the mouths of the movers and shakers, I now hit the keyboard for the people. Writing has become fun and constantly new.

Book preview

Chapter 1

IF YOU ASKED KEITH MERSON, now a dozen and more years beyond the social changes of the 1980s and ’90s, whether or not he considered himself content, or even happy, he’d smile and affect a mild nod. Of course, he’d say. Why not? Then he’d add, I’m 67 years old, still have a good job, the kid is grown and out of my hair, and my ex finally landed a husband. That’s pretty good, don’t you think?

Except that Merson was not a happy man. Like so many people of his age, he looked backward, rather than forward, and it was not so much at what he had done, but rather what he had not done. He badgered himself with the notion, If I had known then what I know now. And of course, Keith was aware, as we all are, that his lament was a futile one. What’s done is done.

Yet Keith was about to find out he was wrong about that. In the very near future, the means and the opportunity would be his to augment his own past in a unique way that would be both confusing and rewarding, and surprising, well beyond his wildest imagining. And, it would be his alone to experience…at least that would be his assumption.

* * *

In 2009, Jimmy’s was one of those nostalgia restaurants that thrive on customers who hold the past dear, and it was nothing if not authentic. Sitting at the edge of the sidewalk on Reseda Blvd. in Los Angeles’ San Fernando Valley, it looked like an eatery lost in time. If you could find a parking meter nearby, you could step from your car, pass under a multi-colored awning, walk through a glass door and find a booth that was vintage 1950s. Overhead, the speakers forever droned 1950’s rock ’n roll hits, and on the walls were aging collages of celebrity photos. There was even a satellite CD selector at each booth that connected to a Rockola juke box and allowed the customers to pick their own favorites – once on 45 records – for a quarter. On one side of the room was a counter fitted with padded stools if you chose to dine alone, where you could see the short-order cook who wore a long apron and the obligatory two-cornered hat.

It was amazing, really. A few steps and you had traveled back to America in the 1950s, complete with hamburgers scorched to order and milkshakes made in a metal can. And Keith Merson loved it.

Not that Keith had been an original customer. The restaurant had actually been built in 1947 by a man with a few bucks and modest dreams. Over the years, it had seen more than one name –Mom’s, for openers -- and more than one coat of fresh paint and periodic repairs, but the look and tone had been frozen in time. Keith had discovered the place in the 1990s and fallen hopelessly in love. And there, at least once a week, he would slip into one of the booths, lay his attaché case on a red plastic bench, order a burger and shake, cue up several tunes and float back to his high school days in the 1950s.

A lovely reverie. He would discuss this with friends, who would add their own longings for the good, old days, but then be quick to note the impracticality, if not the impossibility, of erasing the years to do what they characterized as making improvements. These dissertations would typically highlight which girls they would jump, given now perfected skills. There would be lusty laughter and less than kind appraisals of what the following decades had done to the desired beauties of their youth. Then everyone would go home, with Keith typically the last to leave.

And on one especially hot July Friday night, Keith, alone in a booth, was joined by a woman he had never met before. She was handsome – not beautiful – handsome, and despite the heat, she wore a dark brown linen suit, yet did not perspire. She smiled as she eased into the bench opposite Keith.

You’re Keith Merson, right? she said. Mind if I join you?

Do I know you? Keith asked.

I’m guessing no, she said. My name’s Alice. Just Alice. This is okay, right?

Sure, Keith said. Sure. Yeah. I guess so.

Thanks. You were sitting here all alone, and I thought, why not? Let’s take a chance.

Keith grinned. At what?

Alice moved on. So look at you, Keith. Eating a crummy burger and listening to Neil Sedaka.

Well, you were the one who wanted to sit down.

Now don’t be nasty.

I’m just a little confused.

Alice smiled. Don’t be. You’re here by yourself, a man – What? In your 60s maybe? – who would have to be wallowing in the past. I mean, that’s what this place is for, right? So it makes sense.

Keith laughed. Am I paying for this, uh, analysis?

Keith…

Well, what’s wrong with just walking up and saying something like ‘Can I join you?’ and then having some easy conversation…without getting into some kind of psychoanalysis?

Alice stared at Keith for several moments, then smiled. We’re just talking, Keith. Just talking.

Well, then good. Good.

Indeed. So. You come here often?

Oh, please, Keith laughed.

Forget the cliché, Keith. It’s a real question.

And the answer is yes, Keith replied, with some force. I’m here once a week, and I do enjoy – what? – connecting with the past, on occasion. Fifties music is good stuff. And I find it kinda nice in this format, this place. You can jump back in time for a little while. Nothing wrong with that, wouldn’t you say?

Nothing at all, Alice said. Nothing at all.

Okay. So let’s start with this: How do you know my name? How in the … How do you know my name? And what’s this all about, you sitting down here?

We’re interested in you.

We?

We.

As in more than one.

My, you’re quick.

Just watch me, Keith said, as he brought his face just inches from Alice’s face, then fairly leapt from the booth and walked straight for the door.

Keith, wait! Just wait! Alice shouted as Keith swung the front door open and stepped onto the sidewalk.

He did not look back

Keith had parked his truck on the opposite side of the street and narrowly avoided two on-coming cars as he ran to open the driver’s side door. Inside, he jammed the keys into the ignition, fired up the engine and pulled into traffic. As he drove away, he glanced at the restaurant. The woman who called herself Alice was still there.

It was an impulsive move to bail like that, Keith thought as he soared down the street, if not rude. But why not? That whole thing was upside down. Here was a woman who he did not know from, well, anyone, and she just walked up and sat down and immediately started getting weird. Hardly what you’d call normal.

Then again…

Keith continued on for three blocks, his mind in a buzz. He did not, could not imagine what it had been about, so why was he afraid? Why did he feel threatened? Well, shit. He drove two more blocks then suddenly whipped a U-turn against four lanes of traffic and drove back down Reseda and slowed as he cruised in front of the restaurant, all to see if she might still be there.

His heart jumped as he saw her watching him from the front glass door, her eyes fixed on his.

Oh, Jesus! She was smiling at him! She was smiling right at him!

* * *

Keith’s apartment was on Sherman Way and he visibly shook as he made the drive home. He found himself peering into the mirror periodically and even made fervent looks at cars in the other lanes. As he drove into the carport, he kept the brights on and checked the entire area for anything amiss. Upstairs in his apartment he followed a similar procedure, and only when he was sure he was alone did he change into sweats and turn on the television. He would later say that he could not remember what he watched or for how long. At two in the morning he was finally comfortable to the point where he climbed into bed, but he did so with the lights on in every room.

His disturbing thoughts persisted nearly until dawn. He tried to establish a base that there was nothing all that unusual about the incident. A woman walks in, announces herself and somehow knows his name. Could be the friend of a friend. Could have met him casually in the produce section of some market. He’s by himself, she’s by herself. Flattering in a way. Plus, why wouldn’t he be a fan of ’50s music, of which there was plenty at Jimmy’s? He’s a nostalgia buff, she’s a nostalgia buff (perhaps). And yet, and yet…. Thinking back on it, he recalled being instantly ill at ease. She never actually touched him, and Keith was glad about that, but there was a coldness about her that was palpable. It was as though she wanted something, that she was in pursuit.

But she sure as hell made a connection when she looked out through the front door of the restaurant as he drove by – which was, no question, a mistake on his part – and she smiled, to boot.

Weird, weird, Keith concluded. Just weird.

As the summer sun began to make itself known over the low hills of the Valley, Keith finally dropped off, blessed with a dreamless sleep. When he awoke three hours later it all came back.

In reviewing the previous night, Keith decided it would make sense to avoid Jimmy’s for a while. Daylight, as it always did, could make troubling events or thoughts seem less dramatic. Plus, there was always a change of venue to crowd worrisome matters from his mind. But there was a clarity of his meeting with the strange woman named Alice that would not quickly fade. There was that one word, we, that would not go away. That had driven him from the restaurant. That had scared the shit out of him. What, Keith asked himself, exactly what did that mean?

He tried not to think about it over Saturday and Sunday, and even defied tradition by taking home extra work from his office the following Monday. It only helped a little, and as darkness approached that night he found himself rolling the events of the previous Friday night through his mind yet again.

He had spoken of this to no one, concluding that nothing had happened that would elicit anything more than a so what? from a listener. Then too, they might give him one of those looks over the top of their glasses. He was the guy who had earned a reputation as a man who struggled with 21st century electronics, not because he was stupid but rather because he found them unnecessary and bothersome. A simple cell phone – not a smart phone – was his notion of modernity, along with a computer at the office that was laughably basic.

But then people liked Keith because he found humor everywhere he went and was never above laughing at himself. Yes, he did seem prone to ramble a little too much in stories of the past that in the eyes of his younger friends related to mostly nothing. The very idea of a pay phone seemed to them incredibly archaic. Still, his stories were fun, an entertaining diversion. And if he enjoyed talking about lost loves and missed opportunities over the soundtrack of the 1950s…well, what was the harm?

The secret stayed his alone. As he drove home, the blurred images of that Friday night oozed into his mind over and over, but, happily, not with sharp-edged impact. Now it was more with a curiosity than fear. As more days rolled by, he could step back and take more of a dispassionate approach.

What intrigued and troubled Keith was why Jimmy’s? Why there? If a spook was to walk into his life, why not a public park or his office? What was the point, the purpose?

Keith stayed away from Jimmy’s for two full weeks, yet hovering in the recesses of his brain was The Night. Finally, he concluded that the only way to resolve the issue was to go back on the next Friday night and just sit there until he had concluded that his experience had no more importance than a bad dream. If Alice happened to show up, he would talk to her, and leave gracefully. If this woman was truly a nut case, it would become evident and he could advise her that there were all kinds of other victims to pursue.

Chapter 2

He could not have been in his regular booth for more than 15 minutes. Alice apparently had already been in the restaurant, since she approached from the back. She did not sit; she positioned herself at the end of Keith’s bench in such a way that it would hinder Keith from making a quick exit.

Mr. Merson.

Alice, Keith replied. I half expected you to show up.

Then there’s no surprise? Good. It’s alright if I join you?

Well, I’m here. Sure. Please sit down.

Alice sat down and folded her hands on the table. You left rather quickly the last time, she said. It couldn’t have been something I said, because we didn’t say that much.

Not true, Keith answered. You said the word ‘we,’ and I only saw one person.

Alice stared directly at Keith for several moments, then smiled. Don’t make too much of one word, Keith.

Really? It was enough to cause me more than one sleepless night.

It should not have, Alice said. Think of it as the monarchical ‘we.’ I frequently use the…term. I’ll refrain from it from now on – if there is a ‘from now on.’

Well, I would say that that’s up to you. Like I said the first time, I was just sitting here and in you came and scared the living shit out of me.

My apologies. That’s hardly what I meant to do. Friend here, Keith, friend. Alice slid her hand across the table, and, after a long pause, Keith took it.

Good! Good! Alice nearly shouted. Keith smiled.

So. What’s the deal? Are we just sharing one of those crummy burgers you mentioned the last time, or did you have some crazy notion of running away with me?

Alice laughed. No, there is no chance of that, although you’re not a bad looking man. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something far more involved, and I should say, far more interesting than that.

Keith turned his hands upward and shook his head. You’re gonna tell me I won the lottery.

Let me tell you something about me, for starters, Alice said, and I want you to understand that this is in all seriousness. Try to avoid saying the words ‘you’re kidding me,’ because I really am not. Have you heard of guardian angels?

Oh for chrissakes!

Alice held up her hand. Stay with me, Keith, stay with me, and hear me out!

Yeah, I’ll hear you out. For about another 30 seconds, Keith shouted, rolling his eyes.

Alright, Alice continued, I’m not one of those, but I’m not far away.

Keith just smiled and shook his head slowly. What the hell, this could be entertaining.

Jesus, you guys are always such skeptics. You always need some kind of proof, and I don’t have a lake nearby.

Keith lowered his eyes and looked upward at Alice with all kinds of skepticism.

This should help, Alice said, and she slowly raised her hand above the table, then just as slowly lowered it through the table and kept moving until it rested on her knee. There was no damage to the table.

Great trick, Keith laughed. I saw a guy do something like it down at the Magic Castle years ago.

And did he levitate you as you watched? Alice asked. Take your hand and pass it under your butt. Do you always sit on air?

Keith reached down and did in fact discover that there now was a space of more than four inches between him and the bench. He looked helplessly at Alice. But what –-

I’m sorry, Alice said, it can be shocking but I wanted to be sure I had your complete attention.

Keith’s wordless look confirmed as much. Finally, I’m in trouble, right?

Alice laughed richly. Ah Keith, you’re not in trouble. You’re in luck, and let me tell you why.

Alice again folded her hands gracefully on the table and Keith noted her long, appealing fingers. It was a movement that he found comforting. Keith, she began, I know that you found our first meeting disturbing, and I apologize for that. That was not the intent. I really apologize for that.

Keith nodded. It was.

So, okay, let me explain in fairly simple terms. I’m not, as I said, a guardian angel. I’m what you might call, a, well, sort of a medium. Now before you make another mad dash for the door, just give me a moment to explain what that means.

And counting, Keith murmured.

Right. Now, you’ve heard of a parallel universe, some like the term multiverses. In the minds of some rather notable scientists, this is a viable theory, if not a provable fact. Time, or history, can be thought of as being akin to a very – very – large electronic file. You can go back into it and relive certain parts, with certain abilities to amend actions. Now, these abilities are regulated to a degree, so you can’t go back and kill Hitler when he’s five years old. With me so far?

It’s amusing. Go on.

Keith, you’re a real pistol. The big ‘however’ is that just deciding that it might be, well, fun, does not mean you can do so on your own. You need permission, which is where I come in. What I do is facilitate this. I have the ability as well as the authority to make this happen.

The authority?

Another matter. Let me continue.

I’m taking notes.

Alice smiled and shook her head lightly. The easy part is what I do, without getting into methods and some pretty amazing physics and so forth. So, for the moment, let’s talk about you.

Go ahead.

Good. Now it’s obvious – well, we can agree that you’re practically a fixture here because you have what might be considered a near pathological fondness for the past. Specifically, the good old high school days. Do you agree?

Keith rolled his eyes. You make it sound like a sickness.

No, no, Alice insisted. Not at all. It’s very common. We see it a lot.

There’s that ‘we’ again.

Yeah, never mind that. Sorry. No, you talk to people your age and sooner or later the conversation will turn to the grand old days of when you were a junior or senior in high school. That’s what you and your pals eventually come around to. Right?

Well, sure, Keith nodded. No big surprise there.

Exactly. If you could actually do that – go back to your past – you’d do it in a heartbeat…provided, of course, that the return trip was assured.

And you, Alice, could do that, with a wave of your hand?

Well, not something as theatrical as all that, but yes.

Keith leaned back in the bench and slowly pushed his hands into his pants. So you won’t be especially offended if I now motion for the check?

Alice stared silently at Keith.

Moments went by. Then: I mean, come on, Alice. This has all been amusing, and, frankly, it is right in context here, but to be honest with you, I find it rather, well, unkind, and it feels just a little as though you’re making fun of me. It’s obvious you have no idea what you’re talking about.

Now Alice’s jaw began to tighten. "No, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I understand that you see this as a notion that requires a certain level of imagination, but I am telling you that this is a real and viable opportunity. I don’t know why, but when I get to this part of it, the other person sees the need to be insulting. But, never mind. I can, and I will, give you the means for a return to the days when you were all of 17. I can do that. I really can. Painlessly and virtually instantly. And I can do that right here, right now. But only of your own volition. You have to say yes, and follow a couple of very simple instructions. Then you can actually see what happens ‘if you’d known then what you know now.’"

Keith’s jaw was nearly on the table. Wow.

We do it all the time. I’d just advise you to refrain from saying ‘holy shit’ when you arrive. More than just an opportunity, this is a gift, Keith. It’s a historical adventure that I can promise you will find rewarding. And while you’re ‘there,’ Keith, please keep in mind that nothing will change ‘here,’ no matter how long you choose to stay. Check the clock over there, then check it when you get back: precisely one minute will have passed, and I’ll be here still working on this lousy burger.

Keith was completely mesmerized, and said – or croaked – You’re serious.

I always hate it when they say that, but yes, I’m serious. Big chance here, Keith. I promise you’ll be back in time to pick up that check.

Keith just had to smirk. Well, what the fuck? I have no further appointments for the night. So what do I do? No papers to sign, I assume?

Not from me, Alice said with a smile. "Okay, here’s what happens: Just get up, turn around and walk out the back door, then go along the alley and out to the street. From that point you’ll know what to do. At such time as you decide to return, a day, a week, a month, whatever, just reverse the process. You re-enter the current timeline by coming back through the same door. The same door, Keith. That’s essential. I’ll be here. Just remember this: when you go back to being 17, you will be 17 again, except that you will remember that you’re ‘on loan,’ so to speak, and have all the memories from now. The other side will be physical of course, which I know you’ll just love. Again, it will be you, re-living you for a time. When you come back, you’ll return to being 67, and on you go. Think of it as one of those movies where you get to select an alternate ending. Same plot, same characters, but this time he doesn’t ride off into the sunset. You get a fresh look and fresh experiences, with options. And here’s the thing: knowing what comes next – that is, what you’ll be able to recall – you can make modifications. Think of it this way: suppose you had