Chapter 22 Chapter 21 Timothy Carter, I Love You, Always
Monica Fisher was in bed reading a bedtime story to her baby when Queenie Jackson called her. As she picked up the phone and said only a few words, the child kept yelling beside her, "Mommy, why aren't you reading yet? Hurry up and read."
"Mommy's on the phone, baby. Will you go to sleep first?" Monica gently coaxed the child on the other end of the line. But the child couldn't be satisfied until the story was told. The child was yelling and wouldn't compromise. Monica had no choice but to ask Queenie to wait for a while. She had to let the child sleep first and then call her back.
Queenie naturally agreed. She hung up the phone and sat alone on the big bed in the hotel room. The night sky was dark outside the window and sounds of a horn came outside the window time to time. Timothy was in the next room. She wondered what he was doing right now.
Queenie Jackson really didn't want to be separated from him, not even for a minute. She had been holding back from going to him. She really wanted to get back to her familiar life, which was her safety and comfort zone. She really wanted to go back so badly.
But Timothy wouldn't let her go back. She should have been more clear with him, about her place, weight, and significance in his heart. Would he believe that she really didn't care about the twenty-year gap between them?
Queenie clicked on her cell phone and logged in the Whatsapp account that Timothy had applied for her. The account contained only the six or seven classmates she had just added today.  Queenie unfolded Timothy's dialogue. His username was Timothy Carter. And his profile photo was a picture of the sky. His personal page was empty. He didn't even set a banner picture for his page.
Queenie clicked on her Moments. She thought for a while and posted three photos of today. One was the laurel tree Timothy took her to see in the park. One was the back of Timothy walking in front of her. And the last one was a selfie of herself.
She posted with a few words--"My laurel tree is growing very well in the city park. It's tall and big, with big branches and leaves. Thank you, Mr. Carter. You should bring me here every year, love you!"
After she was done editing, she tapped the send button.
After a while, only Leon Anderson commented, "I was the one who transfered it with Timothy. So, you should thank me, too."
Queenie replied, "Thank you, Leo!"
Leon Anderson, "It's been years since anyone called me like that." Queenie Jackson, "Do you miss it?"
Leon Anderson, "Well, a little greasy." Queenie Jackson, "..."
Timothy, "..."
As soon as Queenie saw Timothy's reply, she hastily clicked on Timothy Carter's dialog box, "Still up, huh?" Then she stared at the dialog box, only to see the prompt that the other party was typing. But after a while, she didn't get any message from him. And after two or three minutes, the prompt disappeared.
Queenie sighed and thought to herself, 'Does he have to be so hesitant about this? What's wrong with getting a young wife for nothing at his age?'
When Queenie was finally falling asleep from waiting, she got a call from Monica, "Quira, what's up?"
"It's nothing much. It's just that last time there were a lot of people and we didn't talk much. Tomorrow we're leaving, so I wanted to call and talk to you." Queenie leaned against the bed and smiled.
"I'd like to meet up with you, but I have small children at home and they cling to me every day," Monica said deflated.
"Are you raising both kids?" Queenie Jackson asked.
"No, the oldest is a son. The in-laws didn't give him to me. So he stays with my ex-husband, and I have the youngest daughter." Monica's voice had a hint of weariness and frustration. She didn't feel as cheerful and enthusiastic as Queenie remembered.
Queenie lowered her eyes and whispered, "Next time we meet, bring your daughter too. I haven't met her yet!"
Monica agreed, "Yes, I'll bring her to you next time. Hey, you and Timothy should hurry up and have a baby too! You're still young, but Timothy is forty-two. So, hurry up."
"I'd like to hurry up. But he wouldn't," Queenie said bitterly.
"What? He wouldn't? How can it be possible? He's been waiting for you all these years. You have no idea how many women he's been introduced to in the years before his mother's death. But he didn't even look at them," Monica hurriedly said. She knew the whole thing. Because her mother and Timothy's mother were poker friends. They used to play poker together and Mrs. Carter complained every day about her son's stubborn mind that she had introduced him to a bunch of young women who were beautiful and well educated, but he refused all of them. Mrs. Carter also complained that she didn't know what her son was thinking, waiting for person who's already dead.
Later, over time, his mother also gave up and let him go. But whenever her son was mentioned, she could not help but wipe her tears.
Listening to Monica talking about these things, Queenie thought of her mother-in-law and sighed, "I don't know why. I think he still loves me. But he doesn't want to be with me. He always says he has changed and he is older. But I don't even know where he has changed.
"Mona, you know what? I don't think he's strange at all," Queenie habitually picked her fingers and said to the phone, "although these days I'm quite sad and a little scared of this world that is suddenly fast-forwarded twenty-three years ahead, I'm actually quite happy when I think of him."
"Obviously, he has been suffering so much for me, waiting for me for so many years, but I am actually a little happy."
"It just feels like, ahh, so Timothy Carter really loves me so much. I am so happy. And my whole heart is filled with this love. Even in another ten years, twenty years, or a lifetime, I will remember this feeling."
"Mona, I feel so selfish for being happy while he is suffering.," Queenie pulled her hair in distress and punched herself twice, "I'm so mean."
Hearing her words, Monica, on the other end of the phone, couldn't help but laugh softly, "Quira, if a man treated me the way Timothy treats you, I would feel exactly the same way as you feel."
"But Mona, I found out that Tim actually has epilepsy now. He didn't have it before. Do you know what's going on?" Queenie Jackson asked.
"I think I've heard a little from Leon. It seems that Timothy was injured because he saved your father's life back then."
"Saved my dad?" Queenie asked in disbelief.
Monica nodded, "Actually, I'm not really sure, I heard it from Leon. It seems that fourteen years ago, Timothy and your father went out to look for you when they encountered a mudslide. In order to save your father, he was crushed by rocks. And he was rescued two days after. The injury to his head seemed to be particularly serious. But they were in the town then. The poor medical facilities in the backwoods were so bad that they could not save him. He almost died.
"And Leon told me that it was Timothy's dad who got the helicopter to pick Timothy up that year. But it still delayed the surgery. And although he was later saved, the after-effects of the surgery were particularly severe."
Monica's voice came into Queenie's ears word by word on the other end of the phone. She was blinded. And the sweet joy in her heart over Timothy's love instantly turned to ice, stinging every cell in her body.
Queenie burst into tears. Clutching her cell phone, she couldn't even put on her shoes and rushed out of her room barefoot to Timothy's door. She raised her hand and wanted to knock hard on the door. She wanted to call Timothy out loud, to see him right away, to see where he was hurt, and to ask him how much he was hurting. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, hug him hard, and cry out for him. But she stopped at the door. She covered her mouth tightly with both hands. Her eyes were red with tears as she stared hard at the wooden door. And she squatted down slowly.
But she couldn't. She couldn't do that. She closed her eyes hard, crushed her kneaded heart again, and breathed in deeply. She knew he didn't want to tell her. He had his insistence and pride. Now he would rather separate from her than tell her all this. He must care about this a lot. Yeah, who wouldn't care? Who didn't want to be with the person they love in the best condition possible?
If he was more comfortable in this state, then she would follow his rules. No matter what, she wouldn't leave him. Even if he acted mean or said he wouldn't stay with her, she would haunt him.
Queenie sat in the doorway, sniffling. She couldn't stop the tears just thinking about Timothy. She didn't want to go to her room. She just wanted to be close to him, like this.
A tenant walked by in the hallway, saw her crouching alone in the doorway crying, looked at her curiously, and walked away again.
Queenie lighted up her phone, turned on Timothy's dialog box, and tearfully typed, "Timothy Carter, I love you so much, and I love you more today than I did yesterday. I will love you a little more than yesterday every day."
"Timothy Carter, I owe you twenty-three years. Can I make it up to you for the rest of my life?"
"Timothy Carter, I will be good and nice to you from now on. I will buy you whatever you like to eat. I will be with you in whatever you like to do, forever and ever."
"Timothy Carter."
"Timothy Carter."
"Timothy Carter."
"I love you and I will always love you."
While Queenie was tearfully swiping on the screen, the door suddenly opened from the inside. Queenie looked up dumbfounded, only to see Timothy holding his phone in his hand, glaring at her and saying, "You don't sleep at night but to sit at my door and send me massive messages?"
Queenie Jackson stared at him with sobbing red eyes. She sniffled and looked at him with wet eyes, whispering, "I, I just miss you. Timothy. I miss you, even if I just live next door."
"Timothy, I want to watch you sleep tonight. And I won't do anything but watch you, okay? Please."
Timothy looked into her eyes and clasped his hands together. He could clearly hear his heart beating and felt his chest breathing hard from the violent heartbeat. He knew he had been in this relationship for so long that he never thought of breaking free. But he never thought he might have fallen a little deeper, a little more heartfelt.
She always could easily light up his passion and love. She always arrogantly set fire to his heart. And when the flame burned wildly in his heart, she would look at him with an aggrieved look and ask him what to do.
What could he do? He had no idea either. All he knew was that he could not push her away and he could not even muster a single ounce of strength to do this...
Timothy slowly opened his clenched hand and pulled Queenie, who was crouched on the floor, to her feet.  Following his force, Queenie slammed into his arms and hugged him tightly, taking him two steps forward and entering the room. And then she gently kicked the door shut with her foot.
Looking at the closed door, Timothy could not help but sigh in his heart. He really could not control himself. All his bottom line and his hesitation were so vulnerable in front of her tears and pleas...
Early in the morning, the phone alarm rang at seven o'clock on time. Timothy opened his eyes. He fished up his glasses from the bedside table and put them on and sat up from the bed. His fingers accidentally touched the person next to him. He turned his head to see. And he saw the woman, whose long black hair scattered on the pillow, fair cheeks sunk in the pillow, eyes tightly closed, and long eyelashes were like a fan, was quiet and sweet in her dreams like the fair lady in those paintings. She was in a unique glow that filled his heart.
He raised his hand and gently touched the woman's hair. The soft and smooth feel of the hair was the same as in his memory. So he smiled. He tilted his head and just lay down on his side, next to her. He just looked at her quietly, gently stroking her hair, touching her earlobes, and caressing her cheeks and lips from time to time, until she woke up. With a smile, she slowly opened her starry eyes to look at him and asked, "What time is it?"
"Seven thirty. You can sleep another ten minutes, "Timothy looked at her and said softly. Queenie smiled, "Nope."
After that, she just stared deeply at Timothy and asked, "I haven't brushed my teeth, but can I kiss you?"
Timothy Carter reached out to cover her bright eyes, thinking in his heart, 'Don't seduce me like this in the morning.' He was obviously not that early twenties brat anymore. But looking at her eyes like this and listening to such words, he still couldn't help but want to sink.
Twenty-three years ago, he was so energetic. At that time, he was afraid to do something with Queenie early in the morning. Because once he stayed in bed with her, he didn't even want to get up or go to work. He wanted to stay with her all day.
So in order to eliminate her attraction, he got up early every morning for a morning run, and he would take breakfast home. After he took a shower and got dressed for work, he would wake her up.
And every morning when she opened her hazy sleepy eyes and asked him for a good morning kiss with her messy hair, he would pinch her pouting mouth and say, "Huh, you haven't even brushed your teeth. So, no kiss."
"Chit, nonsense, wait," Queenie wrinkled her nose and finished with displeasure. She quickly got up and went to the bathroom. After a quick action, she swooped over, blocked him from going to work, pressed his cheeks with her still-wet hands, and kissed him solidly at the door of the room before letting him out.
Thinking of those old days, Timothy still felt sweet in his heart. He always felt that Queenie was a natural sculptor. Everything she did was like holding a small chisel tinkling and carving into someone's heart so loudly that it could never be forgotten.
"I'll go back to my room and change, then. We'll meet at eight," Queenie, seeing Timothy's reluctance, did not dare to force him. She got up from the bed and went to her room. She wanted to leave more space for Timothy.
She hadn't asked Timothy about his injury last night. Timothy hadn't mentioned it either. She knew he didn't want to talk about it yet. If he didn't want to say it, she wouldn't push him. It was okay. There was still so much life left. She could get him to let go of those worries someday.
Until he fell asleep in the middle of the night, she turned over and reached out to take his hand outside the covers. She held it tightly and felt his body heat and the touch of his skin.
His hand was still the same as when he was young, long and fair. It looked as good-looking as the hand drawn by the teacher when she was learning to sketch as a child. She remembered when they started to date she was a sophomore. Timothy was still very studious and had a heavy class schedule. And their dating venues were always in the library.
And Queenie, who had just been with Timothy Carter, always wanted to spend every minute clinging to him. But she couldn't talk, kiss, or hug him in the library. So she could only look at Timothy's good-looking face and pretty hands with greed.
"Why are you always staring at me?" Sometimes, Timothy would turn and lean to her and ask when he was embarrassed by her stare.
"Nothing. I just want to hug you and kiss you," Queenie rightfully said what was on her mind, making Timothy blush.
Timothy glared at her and raised his hand to poke her in the head, "What are you thinking about? Don't read too many romantic novels."
Queenie Jackson was not annoyed by his poke, but smiled and took his finger and said, "How can you use such a beautiful hand to poke my head so hard? Does it hurt? I'll give it some air," after saying that, she put his fingers to her mouth and exhaled twice.
Timothy felt itchy, numb, and happy with her breath. The sweet smile on his face couldn't even be hidden. He looked at her demented look and couldn't help but say, "Hey, you. That's enough. Okay, I'll give you my hand to hold."
After saying that, he turned to serious reading again. But this time, he only used one hand to turn the pages. The other hand was holding Queenie's hand tightly. His earlobes were red and the corners of his mouth were curved.
After that, they came to the library to read books and always sit together. One turned the pages with the left hand and the other used the right hand to turn the pages. The rest hands were always holding tightly...
On the way back, Queenie was not as heavy-hearted and silent as when she came. She sat by Timothy, much more animated. She took Timothy's hand and gently rested her head on his shoulder. His shoulders were broad. His bones were a little hard. And he smelled faintly of nicotine, which was nice.
The sunlight filtered in through the windows of the highway and spilled over them. It was warm, gentle, and a little harsh. Queenie smiled and turned her head away from the sun, hiding her face in Timothy's arms.
Timothy quietly and gently allowed her to squirm around in his arms along the way. Sometimes, he would tighten his arms a bit to bring her closer to his body.
"Can I move in with you when I get back?" Queenie asked.
"Sure," Timothy Carter hesitated but agreed. He lowered his eyes and gently played her fingers with his hands. He had endlessly intimate in his tone, "It's your home, too."
Queenie smiled and turned her head to kiss him happily on the neck and chin. And then she snuggled up to him again obediently and said, "But what do we tell Albert?" "I'll talk to him," Timothy held her hand tightly and said calmly, "you don't have to worry." "Good," Queenie's heart filled with stability as she got such a reliable answer from him. The train arrived at the high-speed train station. The two of them walked out. Suddenly, two men came around at the exit, one with a camera and the other with a microphone. They stopped the two, handing them their press cards and saying, "Hello, I'm from the City News of Buena City. I'd like to interview Ms. Jackson. Do you have time?"
Queenie Jackson was shocked, "Interview? Why do you want to interview me? I'm not a celebrity." "We heard that you came to this time zone from 23 years ago. And we want to know how your life has been since you came back. Do you still fit in? Who is this person beside you?"
Queenie half closed her eyes and said to the photographer, "Don't film me. You are making me blind! I don't want to be interviewed! and I don't want to be on the news."
"Sorry, we don't do interviews," Timothy walked up and held the photographer's hand hard as he shot, "if you don't want to get into a lawsuit, please delete the pictures."
"Sir, come on. Don't be like this. Please be more accommodating. Everyone has a job. Just give us half an hour, and we can apply for some fees for you for an exclusive interview," Seeing Timothy's tough attitude, the male reporter pretended to be pitiful.
But Timothy didn't take this, "Sorry, we just got off the high-speed train. We are a little tired. You can make an appointment with my assistant later!
After saying that, he escorted Queenie forward. The reporter persistently chased after them and said loudly, "Queenie Jackson, do you know among a dozen people in that car, two have died?"
"What did you say?" Queenie stopped abruptly as she walked forward, "Two have died? What do you mean?"
"You don't know, do you?" The reporter smiled slyly, "I'll tell you if you give me an interview."
Queenie glanced at Timothy. He gave her a slight nod. The two of them followed the reporter to a cafe. And since it was around 1 p.m., there were very few people in the cafe. Queenie and the reporter sat face to face. The photographer set up the camera pointing at Queenie. Timothy looked at the screen filmed by the camera that Queenie was being blocked by a green plant on the side and her face couldn't be seen. The camera could only film her figure.
"Is this okay?" The photographer asked.
Timothy Carter nodded, "Can you make it more blurry?"
"It's already very blurry. If it's any blurrier, the picture won't be able to see," the photographer said with difficulty, "she really won't be recognized like this."
"All right!"
Seeing Timothy Carter nod, the interview finally began.
"It's been a month since you returned. How have you been?" the reporter asked, "was it hard to face all the ups and downs?"
"Yes, it's been difficult," Queenie bowed her head and said. "What do you think has been the hardest part for you?"
"It was... I suddenly have no family. I am an orphan all of a sudden. I somehow can't eat my dad's food anymore or hear my mom's nagging... ​And then everything is different... I don't even have a familiar place."
"And how did you persevere?"
"Because my husband is still around. He's the one who helped me hang on. He kept our matrimonial home, helped my parents when they needed care, and did everything I should have done in my absence so that when I came back I could feel fewer regrets and guilt."
As Queenie spoke, she looked over at Timothy. She slowly spoke of their time together, the help he had given her, and all the care, attention, and love he had given her to help her dissipate the emptiness and flicker of those twenty-three years.
"You know, you are very lucky," at the end of the interview, the reporter lamented, "two of the nineteen people on your bus had already committed suicide. They all did it because they couldn't accept that their loved ones were gone. And even the ones who were there didn't want to recognize them."
"There are still people who haven't found any family at all," the reporter said somewhat heavily, "you are the only one our newspaper could find who is safe in the present condition."
Hearing this news, Queenie clasped her hands together. Her heart was overwhelmed. For that car of companions, in fact, she could not even remember their names or even their faces. They just experienced this amazing trip together. But hearing this news, she felt so bad like her heart was being burned. She understood the desperation and the strangeness of this world. It was like a huge monster coming at them. Some of them were strong and resisted with all their might, some were weak and instantly swallowed up. A few were lucky to have loved ones to help and protect them with warm embraces.
How lucky she was to be in the latter category. Queenie looked up and found exactly where Timothy was. She hurriedly reached out to him, asking him helplessly for help. Timothy hurriedly walked over from the back of the camera, holding her hand tightly with one hand and circling her tightly in his arms with the other. He comforted her silently and gave her an infinite sense of security.
The reporter also seemed to be touched by the two and said after some thought, "but you should also be careful. In addition to the two deceased, I heard there is another one missing."
"Missing?" Queenie's eyes widened with a hint of unease.
"It's that driver. I heard from the workers at his part-time job site that he hasn't gone to work for several days, and his phone is not working. He hasn't even been paid for his work. And I don't know what happened," the reporter frowned and said. Later, he added, "Thank you for accepting our interview. I hope you live a happy life!"
The reporter left in a good mood with today's interview material and paid the bill. Queenie frowned. Worrying about Noah Foster and Nathanael Foster, she hugged Timothy a little tighter. Timothy stroked her hair tenderly and whispered, "It's okay, I'm here!"
"Mmm!" Queenie smiled. But her heart hanging in her didn't fall back slowly because of his comfort. However, what Queenie didn't know was that although the newspaper reported her story, there was no reaction in the public because people didn't believe it could happen. They just complained that the reporters had no news to write and made up fiction to publish in the newspaper.