#Somewhere In Time

[voguefashion]

Jane Seymour on the set of Somewhere in Time, 1979.

[cmmorilllonbridgertonlovers]

Bridgerton / Titanic / Somewhere in time scene comparaison 🦋💛🩵💎🌹🕰

These are not comparisons, but similarities between the scenes of these three productions. If you haven't discovered these three films yet, I highly recommend them.

They have made me who I am today.

🔹️"Somewhere in Time", 1980, my birth year.

🔹️"Titanic", the year I turned 18.

🔹️And 2024, *Bridgerton* marks a new turning point in my life.

A thought for Christopher Reeve. 🙏🏻💗

I find that Luke Newton has the talent of the other two actors. (C. Reeve et L. Dicaprio)

All three have "shape of blue" eyes. 🩵

All three actresses are beautiful and talented.

I see echoes of K.Winslet and J. Seymour in N. Coughlan's performance. 💛

They are all fantastic.💖💖

[formulas-fatal-to-your-mom]

[recycledmoviecostumes]

Cecil Beaton designed this mint green and mocha-colored ball gown for use in the 1964 film adaptation of My Fair Lady, where it was worn by an extra attending the Embassy Ball. The dress made a blink and you’ll miss it appearance on an extra in the beloved 1980 film Somewhere in Time. 

The dress was auctioned by Profiles in History (now defunct, having partnered with Heritage Auctions) in 2016, but it went unsold. It was one of several specialty My Fair Lady lots released directly from the Warner Brothers Archive, so it was likely sent back to them after the auction.

The auction describes the gown as follows:

Consisting of a mocha and mint green satin floor-length gown with lattice lace short sleeves, an overlay of floral lace to body, a large integral bias bow at the waist, a falling train formed by two flowing hoops of gradient satin streamers that transition from mocha to green, with hook and eye back closure. Retaining Warner Bros. Pictures Inc. bias label. Worn by a background performer in the lavish Embassy Ball scene. Exhibiting tearing to lace overlay and fading to satin in areas. In production used very good condition. Accompanied by an original Warner Bros. Studios Certificate of Authenticity.

Costume Credit: Bmiranda97

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[dailyflicks]

Somewhere In Time (1980) dir. Jeannot Szwarc

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Iron Maiden - Alexander the Great

[internatlvelvet]

Jane Seymour

[neousfics]

Somewhere In Time is Literally Edwin/Charles, and here's why:

Just rewatched the movie Somewhere In Time because I thought it might work for a Paynland fic and holy fucking shit you guys it's perfect in every way. Charles is so Richard Collier coded and Edwin is so Elise McKenna coded it's not even funny. And the time periods are perfect???? Collier is literally from the late 70s/80s and time travels back to 1912???

Also William Robinson as the Cat King? Be still my beating heart.

(Spoilers for a movie from the 80s ig)

If you're unfamiliar with the plot, Somewhere In Time is about a playwright, Richard Collier, who, after being given a pocket watch by an old lady on the day of her death, begins to suspect that not only is it possibly to travel back in time, but he has already done it. He learns that the old lady used to be a beautiful young actress named Elise McKenna. He eventually manages to travel back in time, they fall in love only for him to accidentally get yanked back to the future just as they've begun to plan their life together. He dies from grief a week later and the two reunite in the afterlife.

Here are some scenes/dialogue that I think are so Edwin/Charles coded it hurts:

Collier (AKA Charles) decides to literally abandon his life and timeline after literally one (1) interaction with this lady + a pretty picture of her he saw in the museum section of a hotel and Charles would absolutely (and kinda did) do the same

McKenna (AKA Edwin) spent the rest of her life never giving up on finding Collier even though they were only together for a couple days. In her youth she's described as "quick and bright, fun, strong, and willful" but after he disappears she is described as "kind and thoughtful but too much within herself, like she was empty somehow" and you CANNOT tell me that does not sound like our favorite Edwardian boy

When Collier prepares to go to the past he picks out a time-appropriate suit, but when he gets there everyone keeps telling him its hella out of fashion and he is so offended 10/10, very Charles

I can practically hear Paynland saying this dialogue:

"Your occupation?"

“I’m a playwright.”

“A playwright.” (mad bitchiness in this line delivery)

“No, no I’m not here because of that!”

“Hm. And you say you know everything about me?”

“Well, yes.”

“Which is patently absurd. You couldn’t possibly know everything about me. We’ve never met. You’re a complete stranger to me.

“But then why did you ask, 'Is it you?'” (she asked this when they met the first time)

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“I know you don’t. I wish you would, though.”

When Collier asks McKenna to call him by his first name she hits him with the "Why should I?" and this doe-eyed fool says "I don't know. I just hoped you would."

Collier is terrified of the idea that McKenna would be afraid of him which is just so Charles like damn

When Collier tries to shave his face with the old-fashioned razor he does an absolutely terrible job, gets a bunch of cuts, and leaves shaving cream on his face and McKenna takes one look at him and decides this idiot is the man she's going to love forever

Their first kiss is actually the sexiest shit ever in this show like damn why they pulling up so hard in some random movie 40 years ago. ANYway when Collier touches McKenna's face and slowly leans in to kiss her she says in this breathy, barely heard whisper "Oh my God. I don't know what's happening." Which is very Edwin to me

When McKenna's manager gets too pushy about her romantic decisions she says "I am involved with you as an actress, Mr. Robinson. Not a doormat. Do not attempt to wipe your boots on me." okay Edwin

When McKenna is performing in the play (which is a comedy) she goes off script and starts dramatically monologuing all her inner thoughts about loving Collier while looking at him in the audience which Mr. "I know were in hell but I need to tell you I'm in love with you" Payne would definitely do

This is the monologue btw:

“The man of my dreams is almost faded now. The one I have created in my mind. The sort of man each woman dreams of in the deepest most secret reaches of her heart. I can almost see him now before me. What would I say to him if he were really here? Forgive me. I’ve never known this feeling. I’ve lived without it all my life. Is it any wonder that I failed to recognize you? You brought it to me for the first time. Is there any way that I can tell you how my life has changed? Any way at all to let you know the sweetness you have given me? There is so much to say. I cannot find the words except for these: I love you.”

"Are you alright?" "Yes" "I thought I lost you." "Never. Never, never, never."

The morning after they have sex she hits him with the "You will marry me, won't you?" And makes him choke on his food then immediately goes "You won't?!?!" without even waiting for him to respond

"I want to be everything to you." "You are."

This dialogue:

“The first thing I intend to do for you–”

“You’ve already done.”

“Well, the second thing.”

“What?”

“Buy you a new suit.”

“I don’t understand. Nobody seems to like my suit.”

“Oh can you blame them?”

“I think my suit is terrific. So what if it’s 10 years old?”

“At least 15.”

Collier just up and dying as soon as he gets back because he's so distressed at the thought of living without her he goes into a dissociative fit and doesn't eat for a weak is so Charles

If you made it this far, I commend you because I'm pretty sure I sound like an insane person and I don't even know if any of you have seen this movie but for the love of God I had to tell someone

Who knows, maybe I'll write a Somewhere In Time AU Paynland fic, or perhaps I'll just sit here and desperately hope that someone else will do it

[omercifulheaves]

Iron Maiden - Somewhere In Time Art by Derek Riggs

[foxsfiles]

my friend sent me the blank version of the picture and i can’t express enough three minutes later i had these so.

[o-link]

Christopher Reeve & Jane Seymour in Somewhere in Time (1980) dir. Jeannot Szwarc

[alltheweirdkidsinoneplace]

Eddie Munson + potential Iron Maiden references

because I'm hyperfixiating and desperate. Also apparently not everyone was raised on 80s metal, so this might be new to some people and gatekeeping is lame. None of this is confirmed obviously and I'm probably reaching but here we go

let's start with the most obvious one: This is Iron Maiden's mascot. His name is Eddie. He's been on every single album cover, most single covers, merch, posters... He looks a little different every time, but he's always undead.

This is the cover artwork for the 1982 album The Number of the Beast. It features A huge version of Eddie, controlling the strings of a red, devil-like creature, which in turn holds the strings of a tiny version of Eddie. The Devil (Vecna, there I said it) is not shown to be aware of Big Eddie controlling him. It's all very double agent, The Spy parallel. Also if you take just the frame of Big Eddie's hand and the devil, it looks A LOT like Eddie Munson's puppetmaster tattoo. With a little fantasy and even more reaching there's also some vaguely mindflayery shape in the background of the image.

(probably irrelevant but still fun fact: This album was released on March 22nd 1982 - EXACTLY four years before Eddie Munson became the main suspect in Chrissy's death)

This one speaks for itself. We've all seen the Eddie prequel book that's gonna come out later this year with literally the same title as this 1983 song.

Interestingly, Eddie has batwings here, aka KAS THEORY CONFIRMED?

This one, holy shit. This is the artwork for the 1986 (!) album Somewhere in Time, and if the year and title weren't enough, there is so much more.

1. Again starting with the most obvious: There is a graffito on the wall to the very right that literally says EDDIE LIVES.

2. Under the graffito we see a hand reaching up from the ground (grave?). The version of Eddie that we get here is a cyborg, and the hand on the ground looks very cyborg-esque as well. The band members are seen a little towards the left as normal humans, so it's not like everyone's just a cyborg in this world. Ergo the hand belongs to a second Eddie, which is very in line with the whole "there is another timeline with shadow selves"-theory.

3. The red clouds in the background are very vecna-y.

4. The little winged figure from the Flight of Icarus cover is seen left of the big tower in the middle.

5. The neon sign of the movie theatre to the very bottom left contains the words "Live After Death" (illegible here, but it's there!)

6. The lyrics on this album! In particular Wasted Years, featuring the lines "But now it seems I'm just a stranger to myself

And all the things I sometimes do, it isn't me but someone else"

- again, very much in line with shadow selves. And even more Stranger in a Strange Land:

"Was many years ago that I left home and came this way

I was a young man full of hopes and dreams

But now it seems to me that all is lost and nothing gained

Sometimes things ain't what they seem

No brave new world, no brave new world

No brave new world, no brave new world

Night and day I scan horizon, sea and sky

My spirit wanders endlessly

Until the day will dawn and friends from home discover why

Hear me calling, rescue me

Set me free, set me free

Lost in this place and leave no trace

Stranger in a strange land

Land of ice and snow

Trapped inside this prison

Lost and far from home

[...]

They found his body lying where it fell on that day

Preserved in time for all to see

No brave new world, no brave new world

Lost in this place, and leave no trace

What became of the man that started

All are gone and their souls departed

Left me here in this place so all alone"

Does that sound like someone left for dead in the Upside Down or is that just me?

7. idk a fuckload more in the cover probablay because it's wild.

Bonus Metallica fact: Master of Puppets was released on March 3rd 1986. Eeven if he bought the album the day it was released (he would) that would have given him under three weeks to rehearse it so much that he could give the most metal concert ever on March 27th.

Anyway that's just from the top of my head; I might add on to it if/when I think of more. PLEASE spam me with your theories I beg you.

Side note: Contrary to popular belief, if you got into metal because of Eddie: That's awesome! Welcome! Again, gatekeeping sucks; we've all had our minds blown by a Metallica song for the first time at some point, so let's be nice to the newcomers.

[mahi-sdesk]

is it me or does anyone else also want to pull out their skin till only their soul is left?

[perfectday1972]

SOMEWHERE IN TIME + f a c e l e s s

[stargazer-sims]

Somewhere In Time

♫ Somewhere In Time - David Mallett ♫

__________

"At which point are we going to address the elephant in the room?”

"Hmm?" Nikolai looks up from his book. He'd discovered fairly quickly that Iryna doesn't like him to read at the table at mealtimes, but he's not about to break a lifelong habit just because she shoots him dirty looks whenever he does it. It's her turn to make breakfast. She's standing at the stove and she's not looking at him. "What elephant?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Iryna says.

"Suppose you enlighten me?"

"I know who you are."

"I should hope so," he says. "You've been living with me for nearly a month now."

"Nika—" she begins, but then cuts herself off with a disgruntled sigh. "No, never mind. If you want to feign ignorance, then be my guest. We'll pretend to be strangers until you get tired of the game."

Up until Iryna moved in, he thought he'd grown too old to experience the sudden tingle of pleasure he'd always associated with young love, with infatuation and crushes and fantastically-imagined scenes of the future. Yet here it is; a tiny zap of joy at hearing her call him by such a familiar name as easily and naturally as if she'd been doing it all her life.

The truth is, he does know who she is. He hadn't recognized her when he saw her outside his door that first day, but he supposes that wasn't unexpected, given they hadn't laid eyes on each other in nearly sixty years. Minutes into their meeting, however, realization came crashing in.

He was actively in denial of it initially, telling himself that it was nothing but an old man's wishful thinking. He insisted to himself that she couldn't possibly be his Ira. After all, what were the chances that she'd not only immigrated to the same country as him, but also ended up living in the same city? But, as time has gone on, he's found it more and more difficult to ignore all the long-buried memories that float to the surface of his mind, and all the little cues that make his certainty of her identity grow stronger.

He sighs too, but not with impatience. "No, you're right. We do need to talk about it. Just... not over breakfast, if that's all right with you."

"All right," she says. She expertly flips the two pancakes in the frying pan before aiming a look over her shoulder at him. "Why don't we go down to the beach after we eat?"

He nods. 'Yes, I'd like that."

They don't talk much during breakfast, but he does her the courtesy of putting his book away. He wonders what she's thinking. Is she as awestruck as he is by the incredible coincidence of their reunification? Or maybe she's remembering a time before that one bad decision they'd made had sent their shared timeline spinning so drastically out of control.

How different our lives might've been if we'd only exercised a little restraint, he thinks. If they'd waited a little longer, he might've asked her to marry him, and she might've said yes. They could've raised their children together and had a pleasant life.

But no... if things hadn't gone the way they did, he wouldn't have his wonderful son Mikhail. He wouldn't have his adored grandchildren Kolya and Natasha, and his sweet grandson-in-law Mishka. Raising his son on his own hadn't been the smoothest ride, but he has no regrets. Given the chance to go back and do everything over again, he might make other choices, but knowing that rewinding time is an impossibility, he's proud to have made the best of the hand he was dealt.

After they finish eating, he tidies up the kitchen while Iryna goes to shower and change. By the time he's done, she's in the midst of applying her makeup. Thankful that they've got two bathrooms, he climbs the stairs to go to his and put himself together for the day.

They decide to walk to the beach. It takes a bit longer to reach the shore from his current home than it did when he lived with Mikhail and Elena, but he doesn't mind. He and Iryna are both healthy and fit for their age and they enjoy walks. Plus, the weather is ideal for an outdoor excursion. It's sunny but not too hot or humid, and there's a nice westerly breeze.

They make awkward small talk for a few minutes as they head toward the waterfront, but the halting dialogue quickly fades away, as they both know it's only an attempt to distract themselves from the real conversation that's yet to come. Nikolai tries to figure out if he should let her bring up the subject first, or if he should just plunge in. It might be easier for her if he starts, but she was the one who asked to talk, so maybe...

He rolls the problem over and over in his head on the way downtown and all the way to the end of the waterfront boardwalk. The boardwalk terminates abruptly with only a set of wooden steps that lead down to the beach.

The stairs have seen better days. There's no railing, so he holds out his hand to support Iryna as they descend.

She glances at his hand and then looks up shyly at him, and for a second he thinks he catches a glimpse of the blushing twelve year old girl he'd met at the rink decades ago. He pictures her with long strawberry-blonde hair spilling out from under her blue knitted hat as she reached for the hand of his twelve year old self who was prepared to steady her as she stepped onto the ice for the first time in her brand-new skates. The image is only in his mind's eye, of course, but the recollection is as clear as if it'd happened yesterday.

"Don't worry," he says, just as he did back then. "I won't let you fall."

He can't remember what she'd said in response at the time, but in the present she places her hand in his and says, "I trust you."

When they reach the bottom of the steps, she doesn't release him immediately. Nikolai doesn't try to pull his hand away either, rather enjoying the feel of her slender fingers wrapped around his and waiting to see how long it will be before she lets go.

They wander for several more minutes in silence until they encounter some large rocks. The stones are smooth from millennia of exposure to ocean water, wind and rain.

"Let's sit," Iryna suggests, and finally slips her hand away from his.

He nods, and lowers himself carefully next to her on the worn rock. It's not like his sofa at home, but it is surprisingly comfortable.

"So..." he begins.

"I think we're in the midst of a story one couldn't make up," she comments.

"That thing about truth being stranger than fiction?"

"Admittedly, it probably would make a great plot for a novel."

"So," he says again. "Tell me something. When you answered my ad for a roommate, did you already know it was me?"

She shakes her head. "No, I had no idea. When I saw your name, I thought it was just a funny coincidence. I replied to your ad out of curiosity, if I'm being honest."

"You didn't intend to move in?"

"Not necessarily with you, no. I did need a new place to live, and I'd lined up a few other places to view, but when I saw you..." She directs her gaze away from him for a second. "I'm not sure if I was ready to believe it."

"I understand," he says. "It was the same for me. When I realized it was you, I told myself that couldn't possibly be right because..."

"Because you thought I was half a world away?"

"Because I didn't know anything, whether you were still in the old country or even whether you were still alive, or... anything."

"I'm very much alive."

He smiles. "Thank the fates for that."

"When did you know it was me?" she asks. "Surely you didn't recognize me on sight."

"No, I didn't," he admits. "You're still beautiful, but you don't look the same as you did when we were sixteen."

She laughs. "Neither do you."

"No escaping the steady march of time, is there? If you want to know, the giveaway for me was when you said you used to know a boy named Nikolai whose mother called him Nika. The way you said my name... It triggered something in my brain. You still say it exactly how you used to."

"You know, that was the moment I recognized you as well," she says. "The way you reacted to me saying your name."

"You and Mother and my sisters are the only ones who ever called me Nika. My ex-wife tried, but it always sounded wrong coming out of her mouth."

"You were married?"

"For a while, yes. Her name was Ivana."

"Did you have children?" she inquires.

"Three," he replies. "All girls. Zara, Anastasia and Tatyana. I don't see much of them, unfortunately. After the divorce, Ivana made it clear she didn't want anything more to do with me, and that included giving me time with the girls. Since they grew up, we exchange letters and emails and pictures, but it feels like they're my distant relatives instead of my daughters."

"I'm sorry," Iryna says. She takes his hand again. "That makes me feel like a terrible person for complaining about my son." She squeezes his fingers in what he's sure is a reflexive motion and adds quietly, "My younger son."

"I don't think you'd find a reason to complain about your older son," he tells her. "He grew up to be the sort of man any parent would be proud of."

"You... you know where he is?"

"He's here in town."

She practically whispers her next question. "What's his name?"

"I named him Mikhail," he tells her. "Both our names are on his birth certificate."

Her reaction isn't what he expects. She stands abruptly and turns away from him. Before he can say anything further, she starts to run. She makes it several meters down the beach before she drops to her knees.

It takes him half a minute to realize that she's crying. He gets up from the rock and jogs the short distance to where she's kneeling in the sand.

"Iryna," he says, as he kneels in front of her.

She raises her head, and he sees that her tears have smudged the makeup around her eyes. Her voice breaks as she says, "He was right here the entire time. Both of you were. You and... Mikhail. I've been in Canada for years, and I came to this city ten years ago. I could have—" The remainder of the sentence is lost in her tears.

Nikolai slides closer to her and pulls her into his arms. He doesn't even pause to consider whether this is the appropriate thing to do. He's simply operating on instinct.

She doesn't resist his embrace. She melts into it, wrapping her arms around his body and leaning her head on his shoulder.

For a moment, he feels as if they're the only two people in the world. He closes his eyes and listens to the gentle, rhythmic splash of waves against some nearby rocks. Somewhere over the water, a seagull calls mournfully. The light wind stirs his hair and carries the distinctive scent of seaweed and salt. The noise of cars from Harbourside Road is a faint swish in the distance, and from here he can't hear any footsteps or voices on the boardwalk. It's just him and Iryna, alone at the centre of the universe.

"You didn't know," he murmurs. “It's not your fault. None of it is. I need you to know I never blamed you for any of it, not for an instant."

"What about Mikhail?"

"He knows it wasn't your fault. When he was old enough to understand, I told him what happened."

"I didn't want to give him up, but my father—"

"I know," he whispers. "You had no choice. No one blames you."

"I blame myself."

He doesn't know what to say, mostly because he can only guess at what it must've been like for her to have her newborn baby literally taken from her arms and given away. She'd carried him inside her for nine months, and despite knowing that her parents would never let her keep him, she must've dreamed of the future they might have. She was sixteen and Nikolai was a few weeks away from his sixteenth birthday when Mikhail was born. Making plans for their little family was unrealistic, although that didn't stop him from dreaming too, regardless of the futility of it.

Mikhail was born at home because Iryna's family had been too ashamed of her condition to dare venture out in public with her, and as if the humiliation and shame of being an unwed teenage mother in the 1960s wasn't enough for her to bear, her parents told her that they had no interest in supporting her bastard child. Her father decreed that the baby would go straight to an orphanage after he was born.

When Nikolai told his parents, they were outraged. They hadn't been pleased when Nikolai confessed to them that he and Iryna had slept together and that she'd fallen pregnant, but they weren't so unreasonable as to expect him to give up his child to strangers.

"We'll say the baby is your brother or sister," Mother had declared. "No one but our family will know. But, Nika—" here, she'd paused to make sure he got the point— "This baby is your child, not mine. I will help you, but you are ultimately responsible. Do you understand?"

He'd thrown himself into her arms, weak with relief and gratitude, and she'd hugged him tight. "I'll do everything. I'll make you proud of me."

She'd leaned in close and said quietly against the top of his head. "I'm already proud of you, my little mouse. Even when you make mistakes, you take responsibility for them. You always find a way to make it right."

But, he wasn't at all sure he could make that situation right.

He recalls standing on the street in front of the Komarov house with baby Mikhail cradled protectively against his chest. It was December, and the baby was covered by nothing but a one-piece pyjama and a green and white blanket Iryna had knitted before he was born. Mr. Komarov hadn't seemed the least bit concerned about shielding Mikhail from the cold. He'd thrust the day-old baby into Nikolai's arms as if he were disgusted by Mikhail's very existence.

"Take it," he'd said. "Do whatever you want, but don't come back here any more." As he ascended the steps to re-enter his home, he turned to look back at Nikolai and added, "If I catch you anywhere near my daughter again, I will kill you."

Nikolai hadn't doubted the threat. There were rumours about what Mr. Komarov had done to grown men twice Nikolai's size. A scrawny, awkward fifteen year old would be no match for him, if he chose to make good on his word.

Too frightened to speak, all Nikolai could do was stare up at Mr. Komarov and pray that he could communicate his understanding by his expression alone.

Mr. Komarov went up the last few steps, and Nikolai started to leave, but when the older man swung the door open, Nikolai could hear Iryna inside. She was screaming. Never in his life had he heard anguish distilled into such a pure form. There was no other way to describe it. If the deepest pain known to humanity could've been represented by a sound, that was it.

Mr. Komarov bellowed into the house, "Shut up, girl! It's done!"

Nikolai had tried his utmost to restrain himself, but Iryna's desperate cries were too much for him. Before he could stop himself, he was shouting her name. "Ira! Ira, don't worry! Some day we'll all see each other again, I promise!"

He knew he'd done precisely the wrong thing even before all the words were out. Mr. Komarov whirled and came charging down the stairs again, straight toward him. The roar the older man let out was wordless and almost as feral as Iryna's wails of grief, and it terrified Nikolai to his core.

Clutching baby Mikhail against him with both arms, he ran down the snowy street, away from the house. He was shaking so violently that he worried he might fall, and his eyes were streaming tears to the point that he could barely see where he was going. He didn't stop until he reached the end of the street and turned the corner.

Still trembling, he dropped to the sidewalk and then laid Mikhail carefully on his lap so he could take off his scarf and unbutton his coat. First, he wrapped the scarf around Mikhail like a swaddle and then wriggled out of his coat and bundled that around the baby too. He hoped that it'd be enough to keep little Mikhail safe from the unforgiving winter air until they reached home.

He was never more grateful for anything in his life than he was to walk through the front door of his own home and straight into the embrace of his mother and sisters. Mother took Mikhail from him, and the very next second his older sister Dasha was throwing a quilt around his shoulders and leading him into the blessedly warm kitchen.

"It's going to be okay now, Nika," Dasha assured him. "Mother knows what to do, and Katya and I will help."

It would be a long time before he was able to believe everything really would be okay, but eventually he accepted it. He never forgot Iryna, but for Mikhail's sake, he'd had to move on with his life. He'd finished school, went to university, and worked to support himself and his son.

When Mikhail was seventeen, they immigrated to Canada for a better life, and he can say that the past forty years have indeed been the good life he'd hoped for, all things considered. He couldn't completely let go of the thought that he and Iryna might meet again some day, but he'd long ago given up dwelling on the idea. The secret to happiness, he's learned, is to focus on things that are present and real; family, home, work and hobbies. Longing for unreachable things is the way to ensure that a broken heart will never heal.

Things that are present and real. Ira is present and real, here in my arms.

His face is wet with his own tears.

Iryna shifts slightly and says softly, "Nika?"

"I'm here.”

"You said you didn't know what love was," she says. "The day I came to see about the rental, remember? You said that when you were a teenager, you were too young to know what it meant."

"Yes," he agrees. 'I said that."

"You were wrong."

"Was I?"

"You knew," she says. "You wouldn't have raised our son if you didn't."

"I couldn't abandon him. He's part of me."

"And me," she says.

"Yes, and because of him, we're linked together. Even if I didn't know where you were, I could always see a little of you in him."

She pulls away from him slowly, and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "Can you tell me about him?"

"I could talk for days about him," he says. He takes off his glasses and rubs at his own eyes. "He's an amazing son. He's clever with machines, like you. He likes fishing and hockey and rebuilding old cars. He's been married to the same girl for over forty years, and we've got two grandchildren, Nikolai and Natalya. Kolya and Natascha, we call them. They're twins."

She lets out a tiny gasp that seems to him to be a mixture of joy and astonishment. "Oh! Grandchildren!"

"And perhaps a great-grandchild next year," he says. "Kolya and his partner got married in July, and they're planning to grow their family."

"I... I'd like to meet them."

"You should," he says. "Mikhail and Elena and the twins know about you. That you're my roommate, I mean, but they don't know who you are. Give me a chance to talk to them first, and then I'll introduce you properly. Would that be all right?"

'Yes," she says. "I think that would be best. It might be a shock if I suddenly appeared out of nowhere and announced that I'm their mother and grandmother."

"Elena and Natascha wouldn't believe that."

"And Mikhail?"

"Let me talk to him."

"All right," she acquiesces. "In the meantime, do you have a picture?"

"I do. I've got loads on my phone, and our family portrait is in my bedroom at home. My phone's in my pocket. Let's see if we can help each other up, and then I'll show you."

It doesn't take all that much effort to get up. Nikolai's knees ache a little, but he's otherwise unharmed, and Iryna doesn't seem any the worse for wear either. He spends a fruitless minute trying to help her brush the sand from her dress before they both give up, laughing.

"Never mind," she says. "Most of it will dry and fall off by the time we get back to the cottage, and then I'll change my clothes and throw this into the washing machine."

He swipes at the leg of his shorts. "These as well."

"Those as well."

Now that he's standing, it's easier to slide his phone from his pocket. He opens his photo gallery and hands the device to her. "Take a look. Oh, and feel free to ignore the pictures of Fish."

They stroll back to the rock they'd been sitting on earlier, and Iryna spends several minutes scrolling through photos and asking Nikolai to identify all the people in them. She exclaims over how much both Mikhail and Kolya resemble him, and gushes over all his candid snapshots from Kolya and Mishka's wedding reception, and she's even interested in the pictures of Kolya and Natascha's friends.

"Your family is beautiful," she says at last, passing the phone back.

Her fingers brush against his as he reclaims the phone, and he gets that same flutter of happiness he experienced at breakfast. He gazes at her, taking in every perfect line of her face, changed so much from when they were young and yet so achingly familiar.

He smiles at her and says softly. "Not just my family. Our family."

__________

TO BE CONTINUED

[milfsisyphus]

need to meet someone the somewhere in time 1980 way: i fall in love with a picture of them hanging in the fancy hotel they rocked with 70 years ago. then i find out i met the older version of them 8 years ago on the last night of their life. my first step is ask my old college professor if he knows how to time travel. second step vintage clothing shopping montage. third step listen to self guided meditation cassettes. and this is how time travel works? keep the audience guessing. step four put on the best talent show 1912 michigan has ever seen. step five realize the picture i fell in love with in the future was them looking at me in the past. step six secure the historical baddie. step seven reach into my pocket and