Hutch's leg was bouncing uncontrollably as he sat on the edge of his couch, trading glances with the clock, while looking through the pages of the Christmas catalogue his mother had left out on the table. The seconds ticked by like minutes and the minutes lingered like hours, as he silently plead with the universe for the phone to ring.
The knot in his stomach tightened with every breath he took, knowing that it was only a matter of time before he knew the answer to his most pressing question, 'Did Salvador know who he was?'
Looking down the hall, Hutch was positive that his mother was still asleep. There was no noise and the light that peaked out from beneath the door was still off, and he hoped it would remain that way for a while longer, at least until his phone call with Casimir had come to an end.
When the phone rang, Hutch had become so lost in his thoughts that the sound had startled him. He didn't bother to take a breath as he grabbed the receiver and pulled it to his ear, managing a winded, "Hello?"
"Ah, yes, hello. May I speak to Jules Hutchinson?" It was Casimir's voice.
"It's me," he replied, as he stood up, and made his way into his room.
"Hello, again, Hutch." As Casimir continued to speak, Hutch closed his door and settled onto his bed. Glancing at the clock, it was precisely eleven am; punctual, as always. "I apologize for yesterday. It wasn't a good time to speak."
"Is it a good time now?" He wanted to be certain they wouldn't be interrupted, and that they could speak freely.
"It is. I'm on my way back to the city. Leaves me with a couple hours to spare. How are you holding up, since your visit to the hospital?"
"I haven't had to go back." It was confusing for Hutch, to hear Casimir sound as if he was concerned. "Can I ask you something?" he questioned, abruptly. The conversation was already disjointed, and awkward, that he couldn't see a reason not to take the risk.
"You can ask me anything, as long as it's not too personal."
"We've met before, yes?" He had thought about it for hours, how to ask without sounding insane if he were wrong. To him this seemed like the only solution to break through the barrier created between where they were now and where they had been.
"Yes. We have." He could hear the sense of relief in him. "I wasn't certain if you knew or remembered. It's been so long since I last saw you or heard your voice. You sound so young."
Hutch took a quick breath, his thoughts scattering in every possible direction. Casimir had just confirmed that he hadn't imagined any of it, but he had to keep himself together. He couldn't afford to break down or lose his composure and risk having him hanging up before he could get some answers.
"I'm not certain that was the answer you were hoping for. Maybe it would have been easier… I wasn't even certain it was you."
"Oh, it's me. And I remember everything, King Salvador."
"I'm no one's king here. Casimir, is more than enough, between us. My wife told me, you still go by Hutch?"
"Of course, I do. You know I hate my name," he scoffed, and clenched his fist against the edge of his mattress. "Cut the shit, Cas. What the hell is all of this? Why the hell did you send me back here?" He raised his voice. His anger was showing through with his frustration.
There was a long silence, followed by a soft reply. "I didn't. It was that amulet I wore. The one you gave me the strength to destroy."
"Do you still have it?" he asked, knowing he didn't want to give away that the bulk of it had returned to Earth with him.
"No. All that remains of it were the few shards stuck in my hand. I suspect the rest of it never left Illimev."
"Did you know…" He swallowed. "Did you know this would happen when you smashed it?"
"No, Hutch. The only thing I knew for certain was that I would die. If I'd known, that destroying it would have returned me home, I would have smashed it the moment it was given to me. But I wanted to live. I was told that the amulet was my life. I feared it so much that I never even risked examining it to any real degree. A mistake I had no idea I had made."
"Right. Just another mistake, and here we are," he replied, lowering his head into his hand. "How long were you gone for?"
"Six weeks, three days. You?"
"Conflicting reports, about two weeks. Hard to be accurate when no one notices you're missing."
"I noticed." His response caught Hutch in the back of the throat. "I've noticed for decades that you weren't here. Even as enemies, I was strangely grateful, because at least you were still there. The only other human on an alien world and I couldn't even talk to you about it. What was the point? You couldn't remember anything."
"I didn't want to remember!" he shouted into the phone. "I didn't… this life… Fuck Cas, I never had a problem with my memories. I just… I had no idea. Ghan'dono told me to forget about where I came from. That it was better for everyone if I didn't say crazy things and told everyone I didn't remember. It was easy for me because I didn't think it mattered. Turns out we both had our secrets."
Casimir let a faint laugh slip out. "It all went so wrong, right from the start."
"Then help me make it right," Hutch blurted out, "Send me back!"
"If only I could. But there's no going back, Hutch. That amulet, that cursed thing, was responsible for taking both of us to Illimev, and it's gone. The fragments I have aren't enough to do anything with."
Hutch groaned, an internal debate raging in his head as he rubbed at his brow. "It's not gone," he admitted, bringing the debate to an end, uncertain if he'd made the right choice, but knowing he couldn't take back what he'd said. "It's in pieces, but I have them."
Silence filled the space between them once again, lingering for longer than before.
"Cas, you still there?" Hutch eventually asked, wondering if the call had been disconnected.
"We need to meet." Casimir's response wasn't what he was expecting.
"Where?" he asked, not thinking about anything other than not wanting to let the possibility to pass him by.
"Your place."
"Right," Hutch chuckled. "Not even a little afraid I'll just kill you on sight?"
"As foolish as you could be, you were never that blatantly stupid. Killing me would just cost you everything. If you do have the other pieces of that amulet, then I may have been premature with my assessment of our situation. If there is a way back to Illimev, for you, I am not only the best option you have to find it, I'm also the only one in this world that will do whatever I can to make it happen. Besides, I'm betting you haven't even bothered learning how to drive. It's just easier if I come to you."
"Asshole," Hutch muttered under his breath.
"Clear your schedule. I'll be there by three."
"Hold on a minute," he snapped, shifting the receiver to the front of his face and speak directly in to it, "you're not the king anymore. I don't take orders for you!"
"Got something better going on today?"
Groaning, he put the phone back to his ear. "Well, no, but that's far from the point."
"Of course. That was demanding of me, and you just want to be respected, as the man you are. My apologies, Hutch. Now, if you could please give me your address?"
"9577 Herott Road, Cauthard City." He had been defeated, and there was no point in arguing.
"Got it. See you about three."
"But…" he began, only for the call to disconnect, "I had more questions for you. He hung up on me."
Hutch felt dejected as he stared down at the receiver, an obnoxious beep emanating from it, demanding its owner to hang it up proper.
"He hung up, without even saying goodbye. What a prick."
Looking over at the clock, it told him that their conversation had lasted just ten minutes, and yet he felt as if it had lasted an hour. Leaving his room, he put the receiver back onto its base, before glancing down the hall to see that the lights in Cherry's room were still off.
With hours and stress to burn, Hutch put on his shoes, coat, and togue, and headed outside. Standing on his porch, he put on his gloves as he looked around at the landscape. Glancing, at the overgrown trees that he'd done his best to trim. At the patched-up potholes on the gravel road, he taken the time to fill. At the older trailers and the beater cars of the folks doing what they could to get by. It was poverty on display, and he'd just given the wealthiest man in the city his address.
He immediately regretted telling Casimir where he lived. The last thing he wanted him to see was the world he grew up in. He didn't want his pity, or have his situation rubbed in his face, or hear, 'this explains a lot,' in his smug, rich man's tone. Turning to walk down the stairs of the front porch, he had built, he froze when his eyes landed on his mother's car, the set of pink fuzzy dice, dangling from the rear-view mirror, and it hit him like a ton of bricks, it was Sunday.