iselldrugstothecommunity | But Time Takes Time, You Know [Musebox]

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But Time Takes Time, You Know [Musebox]

It's hard to research things that haven't happened yet, Howard discovers. Rather than hitting the library, like he would have on Stacy, he has to spend a lot of time thinking, sitting around talking to Barbara about every detail he remembers of his family history. Every year that passes by, the memories get a little more obscure, a little less refined, and he starts to panic, thinking that he won't have enough information to track down his family at all soon.

Over endless cups of tea, Barbara asks questions ("do you remember your mother's maiden name? do you know where your father's parents were from before they came to California? do you remember what their professions were?") to try and drag out the useful information, but it ends up being a stray memory of a Christmas dinner that puts the pieces in place.

"My grandma has to be in San Francisco. They had a one year wedding anniversary ornament on the Christmas tree of the Golden Gate Bridge, and I'm pretty sure they got married in 1969."

What they were doing in San Francisco is beyond his knowledge, but it's the closest they have to a shot. He doesn't know what hospitals his parents were born in, or where his paternal grandparents might be now, or even what year his parents are going to meet. It takes a lot of agonizing before he decides to spend all that money he's been saving in a can under the sink on plane tickets for him and Barbara to go there, but when he invites her she agrees that it's important to him, and besides, how often does one get to vacation in America?

So they both have suitcases packed and a promise to be back in ten days, waiting for Ian in the kitchen to come drive them to the airport. Howard's nervous, naturally, because he's not sure how he'll introduce himself to total strangers as their grandkid from the future. But he's come to relax a bit - a bit - over the last few years, and as such he just chews his lip and bounces his leg a bit rather than panics. He even got six hours of sleep last night. It's truly a miracle.

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"I don't want to care so much. I want to be totally cool with it if I get brushed off by my only living family." He sighs and pours the coffee for them, sitting next to her on the bed. After a moment he reaches over and tousles her messy hair.

"Whenever you're ready. I got no idea what time of day they get there, so I'm mostly just going to stake out with a corndog and wait." Knowing his luck, he bets they won't come until late night.

Barbara squeaked at having her hair tousled, and tried to poke Howard's ticklish places without spilling either of their cups of coffee.

"Alright, well, let me just tidy myself up then we can go and get some breakfast on our way to the bridge."

Howard startles and squirms away, keeping the coffee safe. A few years ago he'd have been upset at Barbara for invading his space in retaliation, even as a joke. He's most over that, now.

"Sounds good. There'll be fireworks tonight, too. It's the anniversary of the bridge."

"I've a feeling that I should have done some research on this bridge before we visited," Barbra said after another sip of coffee. "How old will it be?"

"It's 1.7 miles long with suspension and truss architecture and took four years to build. It's mostly made out of steel and at the highest point it's, uh, 746 feet up and 90 feet wide," he rattles off. "And it was built from 1933 to 1937. Do I get an A plus?"

"An A plus and a principal award," Barbara grinned. She had another sip, half finishing the cup of coffee. "I should dress and straighten myself out. I won't be offended if you wanted to go for a walk instead of standing around here waiting for me."

"I'm going to run in circles around the hotel. Come get me when you're done." He gives her a salute, chugs his coffee and leaves to do just that.

Barbara nodded and left him to it. She showered to make herself somewhat more alert, and came back to lukewarm coffee. It didn't matter, however, and she finished the half a cup in two mouthfuls, so that she was better able to put up her hair, clean her teeth, and carefully apply a small amount of makeup.

Once she was presentable, Barbara went down stairs with the room key, and her purse. She waited out the front of the hotel for Howard to run past her.

He does, and comes to a stop when he sees her. At least some of the excess nervous energy is burned off - over the last few years this has become a much better way of coping with it than chewing his fingers down bloody or bingeing, and he tries to stick to it rather than going into old habits.

"Ready. It's a bit of a walk, but we'll be there by like, nine. I bet they won't be there yet."

"It's a nice way to see some more of the city," she reasoned in her usual positive manner. "And if we pass a nice looking bakery, we can get some breakfast, too."

"Yeah. Good idea. I don't want to eat in front of them." Comments over time from strangers and even from people who know him have made him incredibly self-conscious.

"Maybe we can check out the Castro after this. It's supposed to be the place for young free spirits and stuff." A.k.a. gay folk, not like Howard will admit to that.

Barbara smiled. "Whatever you would like to do." Although the idea of 'young free spirits' didn't sound particularly tasteful, but it was Howard's holiday.

To their luck, a bakery was located just around the corner. Barbara bought bagels for herself and Howard, passing Howard's over while saying: "think of this as partial payment for all the fun things you're going to show me this week."

Thank goodness Barbara hadn't gone to Woodstock. Thank goodness.

He scarfs down the bagel. "Well, we can't rent a car so we're kind of stuck in the city, but we could see a musical, and there are parks and museums and all." He can't really afford either but he'll dig deep and dumpster dive when they get home. "You don't owe me any payment. I mean, you guys put a roof over my head for four years."

"We were only doing what any decent person would have done." Plus, she wasn't going to leave Stacey and let Howard go back to how he was before. "Let's meet your grandparents first and then we'll decide what to do."

"You got a way higher opinion of what it takes to be decent." Or maybe there just aren't near enough decent people. God knows that worldwide, there are plenty of teenagers who never received and never will receive the kind of patience, resources and compassion that Ian and Barbara showed him.

The walk to the bridge takes a while, and Howard sets himself up near the most obvious souvenir shop. He knows it's no guarantee that he'll see them, or honestly that they even came here this day or were on the bridge instead of one of the many other shops in San Francisco, but this is the closest chance he'll have for maybe another decade, maybe longer. He has to try. He sits cross-legged on the sidewalk, looking at each face of any like-looking passerby as if trying to find a common feature, a familiar nose or eyes or smile. He doesn't even really know what they look like as twenty-somethings.

He tries to bat the sense of futility away. It ain't over until it's over. And until then, he has Barbara and bagel seeds.

Barbara glanced at the over priced nick-knacks on display. Little models of the bridge, American flags, postcards, hats, bags, buttons...lots and lots. She turned back to Howard.

"What are we looking for specifically?" she asked, glancing a little at the crowd as they walked slowly toward them.

"I'm...not entirely sure." His heart feels like it's going to pound its way out of his chest and he doesn't know if he can wait with this mixture of dread and anxiety for a few hours. "Their names are Rose and Hal. I don't know what they'll look like, though, hair or clothes or anything, but everyone always said I looked like a young version of my grandpa, so..."

So look for family resemblance, maybe.

"So we're looking for a version of Howard." That shouldn't be too difficult and, for the first hour, Barbara was happy to stand about while she watched the crowd. Another hour and her feet started to hurt.

"How about I find us some lunch?" she asked as mid morning began to turn into late morning. "You keep further look out, and I'll grab something to eat."

"Yeah, sounds good." He sounds distracted and gives Barbara a little wave. He's standing with his feet on a rail of the bridge, trying to get a better view of everyone. "Bring me something back?"

"Of course."

Barbara was gone for thirty minutes. The queue for the nearest 'hot dog stand' was quite long, and it took her a moment to figure out exactly how she wanted her lunch, and then how to pay for it with the foreign money she was still getting her head around. She returned, triumphant, juggling two hot dogs and two bottles of water.

"Anything?"

"No." Howard keeps trying to remind himself that they have all day, but he's trying as hard as he can to see if he can see them before he passes out or starts crying or tries to run, screaming, across the country and then the ocean to his safe haven of a cheap loft in London. He barely notices when Barbara brings the hot dog back, and reaches a hand out almost absentmindedly to take it-

-and then sees them. He knows from even a hundred yard's distance that it's them, because his grandfather is favoring one leg, and while he forgot his grandpa had a limp the memory resurfaces clear as day. His grandma is young, hair cropped short, a hat with silk flowers on it pinned to her head, a purse with a floral pattern in her hands, reduced to the speed of her husband by her tottering kitten heels. His grandfather is the spitting image of a somewhat taller Howard, except with spectacles and all his teeth.

He takes off without even taking the frank from Barbara, without even acknowledging it, jostling through the crowd and ducking under arms and around strollers.

They're his age. They don't look anything at all like when he knew them. And he knew that, of course, when he bought the tickets to come here, but somehow it's only now sinking in that things aren't going to just fall into place. The home that he's been running to is a place and a time, not one without the other.

He pauses, almost toppling over as he comes to a quick stop. They don't see him, at least not yet. Rose is pointing at a boat over the edge of the bridge and Hal is trying to get her interested in the architecture, but she's thinking of landscapes instead. He forgot his grandma used to paint, before the arthritis.

"Rose? Hal?" His mouth feels dry. He doesn't know what to expect.

Barbara watched Howard run off as she was left with both of their lunches. She watched as he darted desperately through the crowds to a couple standing on the side of the bridge. Squinting, Barbara could make out a few details, but it was the man who was very striking. He was so tall, but exactly like Howard in his looks.

It was almost scary.

She slowly closed the gap Howard had created, trying not to seem overly eager to get a closer look herself, but also wanting to be there for Howard. She stopped once she was almost right next to him, and smiled politely at the couple.

The couple looks up. Rose looks almost startled, like she really wasn't expecting anyone in this city would be calling their names. Hal looks more concerned with the idea that there's another guy out here hollering his wife's name. Even more so that the guy looks familiar, in a way that feels more like deja vu than running into an old friend.

Rose notices the similarities too. She looks between her husband and Howard, eyebrows wrinkled as she tries to piece it together. There's a shrewdness to her face that Hal lacks, an expression Barbara must have seen countless times in Howard's own features.

"I'm sorry, do we know you?"

Howard, for his part, only just seems to realize that Barbara's come with him now, and glances to her as if she'll solve the riddle of how he's actually supposed to do anything in this situation. He's breathing hard, presumably from the sprint over here.

What's he supposed to say? You don't know me, but I know you? Not yet you don't? Hi?

He turns back to his grandmother, feeling as if his throat's closing up. She's barely recognizable from the brittle old woman he remembers, but there's something still there in the bridge of her nose, in the sharp angles of her cheekbones. Something in the muscles around his grandfathers mouth, the arch of his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, you were talking to us, weren't you?" Rose continues.

Howard makes a bit of a choking noise as he tries to get a word out, and that's the point when he realizes he's not really breathing hard because of the run. The breathlessness isn't getting better with standing still, it's getting worse.

He brings a hand to his chest, wheezing, and curls his body forward, and Rose rushes forward. "Oh, oh, are you alright?" Hal stands aside, looking between the affair and at Barbara, as if she's any better to decipher for him what's happening.

Oh.

Oh no!

Barbara was in on the little, intimate family gathering (even if the majority weren't aware of the 'family' part), handing the food to the gentleman looking perplexed. She had hold of Howard's shoulders, trying to get in front of him, trying to become all that he can see.

"Howard?" she said gently, giving his shoulders gentle squeezes, "Howard you need to calm down. Focus on your breathing and on me for just a moment."

She gave him a friendly, warm smile but it doesn't entirely deplete the amount of concern shining in her eyes for Howard's ability to regain proper breathing practices.

"Did he say anything to you?" she asked Rose and Hal, still holding onto Howard, still keeping herself in close range.

Howard tries to focus just on Barbara and whatever's immediately in front of his vision. It isn't easy - he knows this feeling, but usually it happens more when he's waking up from a bad dream or suffers some sort of shock to the senses. It's as if the periphery of his vision is falling away, tunnel vision. But it works, because Barbara is familiar, and Barbara loves him and he knows this, and she still will even if this becomes the greatest disaster the Golden Gate Bridge has ever seen.

Hal takes the hot dogs from Barbara, giving Howard a strange look. "No, he just called our names, but that doesn't mean anything, they're not uncommon names in these parts-"

"Do we need to call an ambulance?" Rose interrupts, a bit more practical and concerned.

But Howard's straightening back up under Barbara's hands. His face is flushed with embarrassment and frustration. This was pretty much not how he wanted to start this meeting off, although he guesses any chance of him looking like a threat to either of them has been pretty well dispelled. "Thanks," he whispers to Barbara.

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