Locus of Control

The alarm went off, buzzing that irritating noise which dared disturb his peaceful slumber. He sighed, cranked his eyes open, and stared at those offending digits informing him of the time.

‘Fuck.’

He had started to discover the downside of the wishes that he had made. First, his brain seemed to be more active than before. He was constantly on, constantly thinking, or overthinking things all the time. He needed to find a way to quiet his brain at times or he would go mad from the distractions. The second problem was falling back into old habits.

He wanted to try and change how people perceived him but he was fighting an anchoring bias. This was when one trait overwhelmed an entire person. The problem was that while he had changed mentally and unless he exhibited that change, most people would still see him as a mouthy and apathetic teenager. The first time around, that’s who he was; he didn’t give a shit about his friends, family or even about having a girl. Over the years, he’d matured a lot and had many regrets, and this was one aspect he desperately wanted to change on his second pass.

He was older now, wiser in thought and experience. He was also less impulsive, which should mean he wouldn’t be as quick to anger as he was in his past. He could think first and act after developing a plan, at least in theory.

There were other advantages that came with knowledge: rationality, etiquette, and logical thinking, leading to a wider range of choices. Choice was a true double-edged sword. It certainly had its advantages.

James was certain that he had made the first step in fixing his relationship with his twin sister the day before. Now he needed to work on the rest of the family, which would, in turn, improve his own image in time. The good news was, at least to him, that Amanda didn’t seem devastated like she did in his original timeline.

He didn’t really want to get up. ‘Start as you intend to go on,’ flitted through his mind and he nodded at the thought.

Time to get up.

He went to the wardrobe and examined himself in the mirror. His young body was in fairly decent shape. He would be skinny for some time, until his later years, when he would gain weight, get a double chin, and finally, become obese. He scowled. His blue eyes flicked to his hair, no longer white, but a dark blond in color. James mused as he ran his hand through it.

‘At least I kept my hair,’ he thought with a chuckle. Even into his old age his hair was thick and luxurious, never thin. He liked it, even when white, since he looked distinguished.

He walked out into the corridor and decided there was no sense in washing up before jogging. It would mean he would have to wash again when he got back. He shrugged, went down to the kitchen and put his sneakers on, then quietly went out into the front yard.

James stood outside and smelled the morning. He sighed and accessed his memory palace, searching for exercise. He found YouTube videos on what to do, he’d gone through a phase in his 40’s where he’d tried to lose weight.

It took a moment to remember what exercises worked and slowly tried to replicate the required form. While he “knew” the correct forms, his body didn’t cooperate. After about 15 minutes of trying to achieve the correct stretch, he gave up and started with a slow jog, deciding to test his endurance by pushing it for the day. Eventually though, he came to a stop, puffing and panting, resting his hands on his knees for a moment. He stood there, breathing deeply, taking a break for a moment.

“Jesus,” he uttered.

Once his breathing was under control, he turned around, taking a route back through the forest. When he got to the house, he collapsed on the lawn face down, sweating and panting and holding the stitch in his side.

He grinned.

He’d never jogged a day in his previous youth and felt a huge sense of accomplishment.

“G’morning, champ.”

James looked up to see his father standing over him, belly and all.

“Morning, Dad,” he managed to gasp in reply.

“What are you doing up so early on a summer morning?”

“Jogging.”

“No shit...”

“No, sir,” James smiled.

Dad held out his arm and James took it. He was hefted off the ground easily. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

James grabbed a towel and dried off as they headed inside, “So what caused all of this change?”

“A girl. A beautiful redhead called Jessica.”

“Ha,” his father barked. “I knew it was about a girl.”

“Sort of,” James said. “I want her to notice me, I tried to talk to her but could only stammer. That was when I noticed that the jocks were getting all of her attention, and I realized that me just being me wasn’t getting me anywhere.”

“So you figured running would help?”

“Kind of. It’s not just running that I’m doing.”

“Oh?”

James nodded as he leaned against the island in the kitchen, “Push ups and sit ups. I need to get in shape since what I’m doing so far isn’t working.”

“And you think you have a chance?”

“No, but a man can dream.”

“Amen to that.”

A few hours had passed when the doorbell rang and James got another blast from the past. He opened it to find his long-time best friend standing there.

“Hey Pat, what’s up?”

“Nothing. I’m bored.”

“That seems to be the common denominator around here at the moment.” James noted. “Want to crank out the SNES and have a game?”

“Sure, why not?”

They plugged it all in and sat down with drinks and some snacks. The two played different video games for a good couple of hours while chatting about everything and nothing.

“So where’s Bella at?”

“Camp,” Pat said and James nodded as he remembered.

“She’ll be back soon, right?”

“Yeah, just in time for school.”

James mused. “I wonder how she’s changed.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, we’re not kids anymore, are we?”

“No. True, we’re all getting older.”

“Yup.”’

Pat eventually got bored and said goodbye. James’ day returned to normal. Dinner was a quiet affair with everyone wrapped up in their own little world.

In the evening, Cheryl had her music on as he went past her room. He got a peek inside and saw she was lying on her bed, reading a book. Her nose was buried in a paperback – Edward Abbey’s “Good News”. She had headphones on so she didn’t see or hear him. He observed as he got a look at her backside that Amanda wasn’t the only one with a nice ass.

Family snapshots decorated the mirror of her vanity, an amateurishly antiqued oak dresser and mismatched mirror. A poster boasting an album by The Police – Synchronicity - was thumbtacked to the wall.

Her closet was filled with bright coloured clothes; he noted baggy pants with tight ankles in shades of red, teal or turquoise.

He smiled as he smelled her scent and quietly left her room. He went back to his room and closed the door, then grabbed a book of his own and sat down on the bed to read.

Mom was downstairs and his father was, typically, watching the TV, while Rachael was out with her boyfriend.

There was a knock on the door.

“Yo,” James acknowledged. Amanda walked in and closed it. She studied him as he leaned back, curiously relaxed. He watched her with a quirked up eyebrow. “‘Sup?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“Always glad to talk to you.”

She nodded, “That makes a nice change. Sometimes I feel we are drifting apart.”

“We were,” James confirmed.

“We were?”

“Yes,” James nodded.

“What changed?”

“Two things,” James mused as he leaned back. “Me, and then you.”

“You?”

“I overheard a conversation that Rachael and Cheryl were having, talking about me. They were saying what an asshole I was and how no one wanted to be around me.”

“Jesus...”

He shrugged, “it’s true. I was an asshole. Being the middle child and the only boy didn’t help, I guess. But I needed to have that gut punch in order to get back up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hang on a sec.”

James closed his eyes, he searched for and found the quotation.

“James?”

“The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place, and I don’t care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward; how much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done!”

“And you memorized that?”

“Yes...”

“You’ve changed. I don’t know how, but I see it. You seem older somehow.”

“I don’t feel older.”

“It’s in your eyes, I look at you sometimes and I see an old man.”

He inclined his head thoughtfully, “Momma always did say I was born an old man.”

She snorted a laugh, then offered, “True. What were you doing up in the morning?”

“Jogging.”

“You jog?”

“I’ve started to ... part of my fixing my image.”

She nodded the sensibility of that. “Would I be able to jog with you?”

“If you’re able to get up early.”

“How early?”

“Six”

“A.M.?” she said in awe and blinked. “On a summer day?”

James nodded, “Yeah. I know.”

“Christ, that’s early even by my standards.”

He snorted. She nodded, “It would help me get fitter and not get fat like some of the girls I’ve seen at school.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing Lucy,” he speculated, thinking of the biggest girl he knew at school.

“Really? She’s huge!”

“Yeah, but I bet she’s keen.” He rejoined with a smile.

She chuckled at the thought. “Fine then,” she brought the conversation back on track.

“Well, if you want those dividends, you’ve got to work for them,” he affirmed his statement with a nod.