180 Days in Montauk

She grabbed the peanut butter from the wooden cabinet, took a dollop and pushed a pill in the center. Whistling for Dink, she turned back to me. Siobhan gave a small smile and continued.

"Finn was hurt pretty bad in high school. It was ridiculous. I mean completely childish for everyone involved, but he was just devastated, and I almost killed the stupid bitch. Jean Steading. Finn worked on her dad's ship since he was fourteen. Finn dated Jean off and on for three years and they were supposed to be exclusive at the end. She started seeing another boy behind his back. He was two years older than them and all the girls loved him 'cause he was a back-up dancer for a singer who had her own Disney Channel show. A back-up dancer and they lost their minds. How high school is that?"

Dink barreled into the kitchen, slid on the slate floors and sprawled near Siobhan. Shiv. Why were George and Finn the only people that called her Shiv? She made him give her his paw and then bark before he got his worm pill disguised as a treat. She scratched his head making his leg twitch as she spoke.

"Anyway, he found them making out at a club in the Hamptons. Finn went after the guy and got his ass handed to him."

That set me back. He fought someone? And he lost? "Seriously, Siobhan? Finn got in a fight?"

She looked up, smiling. Finn didn't come across as a brawl in a nightclub sort of guy. "Yup. Jean dumped him in front of everyone. After that, he became really guarded and now has a tendency to back away from people before they can hurt him. Cynthia thinks he's the strong silent type. Reality? He's the 'I don't want to get hurt again' type. Friends, girlfriends, it's all the same. I love him to death, but he's got to grow some balls."

Looking at me, she smiled again. "On the other hand, he hasn't pulled away from you, so maybe things are looking up. And that dancer? He knocked her up a year later. They were married and divorced in under three years. He's in Vegas and she's working at Walmart."

Siobhan, okay, I'm going to start calling her Shiv, so Shiv brought it back around to Cynthia. "The weird thing about all of this was that Aunt Cynthia was just cold about the whole thing. No compassion at all. She told Finn to forget about her. She was a blip on the radar. Her exact words. Blip on the radar. That he would find someone that would change everything, and Jean wouldn't even be a memory. Okay, maybe that's true, but Cynthia was almost bitter about the whole thing, like she was upset that Finn was upset. Seriously strange and Finn started moving away from her, emotionally. That messed with her head for a long time. Like she couldn't understand a seventeen-year-old boy who thought he'd lost the love of his life."

Time went by and Cynthia met with continuous stream of medical professionals. She was in and out of Manhattan on a regular basis getting every test possible taken, retaken and cataloged.

Cynthia started a regimen of cocktails that would impress Dr. Jekyll. Huge doses of metformin, a witch's brew of other drugs and stem cells harvested from someone's hypothalamus. It wasn't mine. I let them gather mine from bone marrow, but there was no way they were delving into my brain. Their experiments with telomere lengthening were promising, but inconclusive. She was obsessed with aging and its process.

The treatments always left Cynthia exhausted. Finn practically shut down his business to care for her. They would speak softly from time to time, heads close together, and I would wonder exactly how much he knew. It was easy to forget how smart Finn was. For all his gifts, he was modest and unassuming. He would take her out on the cabin cruiser where she would wrap herself in blankets and sit in the sun, resting.

I had her keep copious notes about her plans for the next day, the next week and the next month. I took over as much as I could. Standing in her stead in phone calls to her financial advisors, listening to people that needed favors and talking to Duhnagaham's students, who Cynthia called acolytes. My goal was to lift her burdens. Hers was to get me prepared.

Every evening we went over what I needed to memorize if I did go back to 1968. Stocks to buy, scandals to watch for, politicians on the rise, investment trends, it was a lot to remember. Most important to her, was that I remember every attempt that had been made by previous Cynthia's to keep me here. If things went wrong, I would have the plastic surgery and be responsible for creating a new plan.

Her history was fascinating, and she loved regaling me with her stories. Cynthia's fifty-year journey was filled with adventures, struggles and whirlwind romances. The only relationship that rivaled her time with Finn was the time she spent comforting George after his wife passed. They spent twenty years as occasional lovers and best friends.

Siobhan nudged my arm. I hadn't noticed her approach and when I looked up she handed me a cup of tea. Pausing, she looked around the room before speaking, seemingly hesitant to bring up what was on her mind.

"Cynthia isn't doing well. She won't talk about what these treatments are for and my mind keeps assuming the worst. Have you thought about what we're going to do if we lose her?"

I leaned in to hear her quiet words. She slumped into the chair next to me. It never occurred to me that she and Finn would think Cynthia might be terminally ill. All of this was so cruel. I didn't know what to say, so I passed the buck. "You should talk to her about it. Let her know what you're thinking. What did you mean about what we're going to do?"

After clearing her throat, Shiv made her suggestion. "When George was working with me we talked about something called the Philadelphia Experiment. Maybe we... He thought we should look into it. There's lots of surface bullshit, but there's some odd underlying data that could prove interesting. I sorta think he'd like us to check it out. Nothing crazy, just poke around."

Siobhan stared at the table as she spoke. "It's sort of the family business and we're the next generation." Losing George had rocked her more than anyone except Cynthia. If she thought that following up on this was a good idea, we'd do it. Maybe it would help her deal with things.

"Sure. Let's do some initial research and then go full bore in the spring."

Things grew increasingly somber as the days ticked by.

Cynthia was always a wreck after the treatments. The worst was as soon as she woke up but she gradually got better over a twenty-four-hour period. Cold sweat, shakes, some delirium and memory issues plagued her while she recovered. All she would want to do is rest and have Finn near her. Time was her enemy. The echoes of the seconds ticking by almost deafened her. She desperately wanted to take my place and return to 1968, but if she did, it would mean leaving Finn.

What she went through wore on both Finn and Siobhan. Cynthia wouldn't tell them what the treatments were for and that left them guessing. The big assumption was that it was experimental treatments for cancer. They thought she was dying and wouldn't confide in them. She was trying to make herself as physiologically close to me as possible, so we could make the swap.

On a clear warm Tuesday, she wanted him to take her out again on the Cabin Cruiser and let her lay in the sun, just the two of them. I couldn't reject his silent plea as he looked at me, eyes begging me to join them. Just this once I wouldn't defer to Cynthia. I would go, and it would be the three of us.

Finn was clearing some trays that held the crackers she liked to eat and some seltzer. Cynthia grasped his arm and asked him to sit. Looking over at me, I knew what he was thinking. She had a tendency to ramble and repeat stories while recovering. He wouldn't admit it, but it frightened him. For all his life she had been smart, competent and in control.

"Sit, Finn. Sit down and talk to me." Reluctantly, he sat next to her and her hand slipped from his forearm into his hand, clasping it lightly.

"My young Mr. Corrigan, have I told you about when I first met George?"

He put his other hand over hers. "Tell me again, Aunt Cynthia."

"We were in Egypt. Or was it Iraq?" She faltered, sounding confused.

"It was Egypt."

"Thank you, Finn. Egypt. We were following up on legends of an ancient library hidden under the sphynx. I was there, of course. And Duhn had two of his acolytes. Dr. Birgette was there. She was a stunner. All the men loved her. Piotr made it. The Mad Cossack. He was a mountain of a man, just huge. And only twenty, with that full beard. He said his great grandfather was Rasputin. He claimed to have been descended from every famous Russian, so I would have dismissed it if it wasn't for his strange, magnetic eyes. You just couldn't pull away from those eyes. You know, we spent a summer together in the Urals. He was definitely large all over. He..."

I jumped in. That wasn't something Finn needed to hear about. "How did he get along with Duhnagaham?" That was a topic guaranteed to get her moving in a different direction.

"Oh, they hated each other. Always butting heads. Circling each other like competing rams in mating season. I wouldn't have been surprised to wake up one day to find out one had killed the other, but like his claimed ancestor, Piotr seemed unkillable."

She took a sip of her seltzer before continuing. "We were camped out the first night. About a mile from the camp of some government excavators and half a mile from the sphinx. Hadn't even got to the site, let alone started to explore. They came from nowhere. It's like these cultists grow on trees. Called themselves the Brotherhood of History or something. They thought we were stealing their heritage."

Cynthia smiled and looked over the water. "And that's when we met George. He pulled our asses out of there. They had killed one of Duhn's men. Birgette was seriously wounded. Piotr had been shot twice but was still causing mayhem. We had taken down about a dozen of them, but the numbers weren't on our side. George and his people attacked them from behind. They were Mossad and these cultists had killed some of their people. He was so fierce, so handsome. And young! He couldn't have been more than twenty-one. He was already married to Elise and had a daughter."

She spent the rest of the day telling us stories we'd heard before. We had to fill in some of the details for her. After we returned home, and we put her in the spare bedroom, I found Finn in the kitchen, staring at the wall.

"I can't take it, seeing her like this. Shiv is going to step up and take care of her after the treatments. It's breaking my heart.

I pulled out a chair and sat. "No, you're going to be there every time she comes out of treatment. I understand. It hurts you to see her like this. Maybe more for you than anyone else. But you love her, and you'll be there when she needs you. You know how forgetful she gets and what she remembers? For a day after the treatment, she'll call me Shiv, she'll think Siobhan is your mother, last week she didn't know who Dink was and he scared her to death. But you? You're her Finn. Always. She never thinks you are your dad. Cynthia never calls you George. You're the lighthouse she's always steering by. You're her rock, Finn. I know it hurts but suck it up."

Like so many nights before, I took him to his bed and let him find solace in our love.

On my 179th day Cynthia returned to her home and I pulled Finn to the yacht. I spent most of the day crying and watching him. I came up from the kitchen with some cheese and pretzels to find him staring at me. I paused, looked back and smiled. "Whatcha staring at?"

"You. Just thinking."

Me too, Finn. Me too. About how Cynthia was in a mental institution after losing you. About how I will handle it if I'm pulled back to 1968. About how it will kill me not to be with you. "About what?"

"The first time I really knew how I felt about you."

"Yeah? When was that?"

Noticing the lines at the edges of eyes as he smiled, I had the strongest urge to try to smooth them away, gently, maybe with a kiss. Finn continued.

"I had come back from the hardware store and grabbed some dinner on the way. It was late. Nine or ten. Putting the leftovers in the fridge for Shiv, I saw you through the window. You were in the backyard. It was just after I showed you how to use your phone and you had loaded a kajillion songs on it. Earbuds in, you were dancing. There was a full moon and if I took a bat to the head I wouldn't have been able to stop watching you. Just... the way you moved." I actually saw him shiver. Thinking about that moment. About me. "Dink kept running over and you'd play with him for a second or two and he'd run away. Your hair was wet and I think you'd been swimming. It felt... dreamlike."

He shook his head and seemed to pull himself from the memory. Warmth flooded through me as I listened to his words, his voice.

"I... God, Jen, I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. I just stood there until you headed to the house. I went back to the fridge when you came in, so my back would be to you. I didn't want you to see what an idiot I was. It was, I don't know. Embarrassing. Yeah, it was... a lot. I felt it all before but everything just sort of forced its way into my head. How much I love you."

Putting down the snacks, I walked over to him, his eyes on my breasts under my loose shirt, moving with every step. Not the most romantic thing in the world, but I didn't mind at all. I put my arms over his shoulders and kissed him. His fingers lightly trailing up my ribcage caused goosebumps to burst forth. Large, strong hands encircling the breasts that fascinated him, he pulled back slightly. I looked into his eyes. "Tell me more."

He grinned again. It was that lopsided smile that always made my heart skip. "Not much more to tell. It was just one of those moments that people have in their lives. I think it's like when people talk about first holding their child. Things just fundamentally change. You're a different person after that."

I kissed him again, took his hand and pulled him to the bench seats. We watched our movie again as I grew more melancholy. "Finn, take me to bed."

Smiling sadly, he lifted me in his arms. Finn knew. He knew. This might be the last time we would be together. How he figured it out, I didn't have a clue. Maybe one of those conversations he had with Cynthia when they huddled together, talking after her treatments.

"As you wish."

Everything reminded me of the first time we made love. The slight rocking of the cabin cruiser, the way he looked at me, the strength in his arms, his scent. Finn carried me down the stairs, past the small kitchen and placed me on the bed. Finn's eyes were moist, and I was openly crying. Slowly, gently he pulled my shirt over my head.

He knew I was without a bra. He had been staring at me all day, following my every move. I shimmied out of my jeans and when I looked back up, he was staring again, sad and afraid. He moved onto the bed, lying down and pulled me to him. We lay there, me on my side, cuddled into Finn who lay on his back. I kept my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. We cried openly, softly and without shame.

Time went by and Finn shifted to his side. Using his thumb to wipe away my tears, he leaned over and kissed me. It was unhurried, loving and deep. Moving down, he pulled my panties from my hips, past my knees and I kicked them off my feet. I watched as he stood, taking off his shirt and removing his Dockers and Jockeys, finagling them over his growing erection. Climbing back on the bed, he knelt by my feet.

"I love you Jennifer. I can't explain how much. The words just don't exist. When you're not with me I feel like a mountain climber deprived of oxygen."

Lips trailing kisses from calf to thighs, Finn moved to my center. He traveled up my Nile and spent time riddling my sphinx. From different angles, force and speeds, he mounted his oral attack. I willingly surrendered to his arguments.

My head rolled back, consciousness zooming into the sensations he was igniting, blocking everything else out.

Fingers trailing up, he spent time on my neglected breasts, teasing, tugging and kissing turgid nipples. His other hand stayed where it was, moving behind the sphinx, searching for deeper mysteries. I shuddered, reaching my heights, flooding the plains.

Shifting his hips forward, he aligned himself and teased me, up and down, but waiting to go forward. Finally, he pushed. Slowly, gently and then passionately. Finn was made for me. Fitting me perfectly, he'd barely started before I began climbing that peak. After I reached the summit, he slowed, leaned down and kissed me again.

Continuing, we shifted positions as I knelt in front of him, hands outstretched on the large bed, back to Finn. Entering me again, he alternated between fierce and loving. It could have been an hour, or it could have been five minutes, but I eventually heard the signs of his imminent release, felt him stiffen and let go.

He collapsed and lay a moment, breathing, before again pulling me towards him. My back rested against his chest as he whispered his words past my ear.

"I need to watch the sunset with you every night. I need to hold your hand as you bring our children into the world. I need to sit by your side as we spoil our grandchildren. I need you." He started crying again. "Don't leave me. Don't... just... I couldn't take it."

We lay together in a strange amalgamation of sadness and joy.

The magic of the moment was broken when we heard the scratching at the door and Dink's whining. We both laughed. Finn called out. "Leave us alone, you dopey dog!" He kissed me again and there was joy and maybe a touch of hope.

FINN -towards the end

It had been their life, their history and their story. I was a little disappointed that they just assumed I would never figure out what was going on, but it wasn't upsetting. I don't know if it was bumbling about in my subconscious for a while before I noticed it, but I was walking up the pier from the oyster farm when I saw Dink sitting equidistant between Jennifer and Cynthia.

Something shifted in my mind at that moment and I wondered what Jennifer would be like today if she had really been from 1968. I almost stumbled as thoughts and impressions of both Jennifer and Cynthia rushed in. Favorite movies, favorite bands, favorite foods, mannerisms, sayings. Most of all, it was their eyes.

They had both been sitting in Adirondack chairs, in almost the same pose. I took out my phone and took a photo of each. I would send the photos to experts who would compare a thousand different details and get me the results. It didn't matter though. I knew as soon as I saw them that day. They were the same freaking person.

For the first time in my life, I had a panic attack. I quickly walked over to the other pier, ran down to the cabin cruiser and locked myself in the berth. I sat there in the dark for hours trying to wrap my head around it. I couldn't. I just couldn't. I remembered Aunt Cynthia slipping me five-dollar bills when my parents weren't looking. Looking up at the stands while at bat and seeing her cheering me on. No other kid had their aunt talking to their teacher, but I saw her at the school more than once.

She was Jennifer and she had waited fifty years. She was the same woman I made love to last night. How could that possibly be?

I stayed hidden until I heard Dink whining at the top of the stairs. Having to get up sometime, I played with him for a few minutes while gathering the courage to go back to the house where they would be making supper. It seemed that Aunt Cynthia was always there since George's death. Walking through the door, I stopped and looked from one to the other. Something clicked in Cynthia's eyes. She knew that I knew.