Time Had No Mercy
Peace was all that Sara Jean Hobbs knew. A fairy-tale life, devoid of all things meaningless and arbitrary.
She grew up in Salem, Oregon, the capital of the charming state, in a quiet neighborhood filled with trees and tranquility. This neighborhood, in her memories, is always engulfed by a golden sunset, and the rows of Douglas Fir are always gently swaying in the wind.
She was an exceptionally kind soul exquisitely curated by the goodness and depth of love her parents shared for her and each other. Sara was so kind and caring that the universe never dared send harm her way, she was a magnet of goodness. At family reunions, barbecues, and birthdays her family would gather around to hear her tell stories. Everyone would take turns talking to the young girl. “She talks like an adult, how mature for her age!” They would say. Her jokes always brought laughs, even if they weren’t too funny. She was rare.
On June 2nd if 1983, 8-year-old Sara’s life would change forever. That was the day Adil Adam Hall moved in down the street.
“Hey there,” his shyness was clear as day. He stood on the sidewalk about ten feet away from her.
“Hi. I’m Sara Jean Hobbs,” Sara was never shy. Stranger danger drills had to be given to her just about any time she and her mother, Alice, went out in public. The young girl loved to converse.
“I’m Adil.”
“A-what?”
“Adil. It’s like uh-deel.”
“Oh. What’s the rest of your name?”
“Adil Adam Hall.”
“I like that name! Have we met before? I feel like I know you.”
“No. I just moved in yesterday!” He said.
“Oh.”
“Yup! Nice to meet ya!” Adil turned and ran back to his house. There were three houses between his and Sara’s. Sara was left standing at the halfway point between their homes wondering why boys were so weird. She liked Adil, uh-deel, though. She spent the rest of the night saying his name, reclining in her moonlight-soaked room, decorated with lively colors, gazing at her ceiling, “uh-deel, uh-deel”. She slowly pronounced it as he had done earlier, it made her laugh. She had never heard of such a name.
1992
Sara and Adil still lived three houses down from one another. A union was formed so strong between them that they saw each other as mutually exclusive. They saw one another as absolutes. They spent many late nights at Adil’s fire pit, contemplating life, the universe, the world, being, and everything in between. Sara was there for Adil when his mother died of breast cancer two years prior, and he was always there for her when she needed him.
Due to poor timing, a romantic relationship between the two of them was always postponed. But their time would come, Adil could feel it. He thought her too good for him. Despite his success with other girls, he was much too shy for the intense relationship he knew he and Sara would have. He was much more content dealing with the meaningless.
“Patience,” he would tell himself, lying in his room, staring at his ceiling with nothing but moonlight and starlight around him. “Our time will come.”
Their time did come. After 9 years of reciprocal love, appreciation, and understanding Adil found his chance. Sara had just broken up with Michael Bennet. It was the summer of 1992, Adil picked her up at p.mat noon and drove her to the beach in his Jeep Wrangler. It was a crisp, hot day. Not a cloud in the profoundly blue sky. They rode with the windows down the whole way there. “Oh. I love this song. I know it’s old but it’s so damn beautiful,” Adil said as Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon played.
They stopped for lunch at a local restaurant in Pacific City, both ordering fish and chips. Sara had forgotten about all of her problems. She was still the radiant, kind girl with the best conversation. The only difference now was how she looked much different, of course. She was tall for a girl and she wore her hair like a shimmering curly crown on her head. Her brown skin seemed to shine with youthfulness, and her face greeted all with warmth and a smile.
Adil was just taller than her. He wore a short afro and had a thin build. His square face was complemented with soft eyes and big cheekbones. His smile was every bit as bright and welcoming as Sara’s, it was one of a million things they had in common.
“How are you feeling? I wanted to get you away. Too beautiful of a day and too beautiful of a girl to be sad,” Adil said between bites of the crisp fried fish. Sara smiled and chuckled. He knew why she laughed. “Not that ugly girls should be sad or anything,” he could hardly say it due to laughter, it sounded too weird. They both laughed at his botched comforting attempt.
“You never fail to make me laugh.”
Adil smiled wide, “no, but really, how are you feeling about the whole Michael situation?”
“Who?” She said with a smile allowing his to return.
“Alright. Alright. I like it. Let’s have a good time.” They finished their meals, feeling at peace. The depth of their love was profound, and they were only waist deep at this point, wading in the blue water hand in hand.
They drove down to the beach. The hot air in Salem far behind them as they stepped out of the car. A cool 75 degrees with a crisp, whipping breeze that made it feel much cooler. Sara’s sky-blue sun dress whipped around in the wind as she grabbed Adil’s bag from the car with their towels, lotion, sunscreen, and other supplies. Adil grabbed the cooler. Water, Gatorade, and reusable bottles filled with white wine.
They sat on their towels, enjoying the view of the Pacific Ocean and the view of one other.
Hours of light conversation passed as they watched the strangers around them do strange things, sometimes they couldn’t help but laugh. “Can I kiss you?” Adil asked after waiting for, what Sara thought, was much too long. Nine years too long. Sara smiled and kissed him. They spent the rest of the day laughing, talking, kissing, and getting wine drunk. The sun set right before their eyes. They were sinking deeper into the depth of their love. 10 feet of water above their heads.
1998
It was the summer of 1998. Sara Jean Hobbs and Adil Adam Hall had just celebrated their 6-year anniversary.
They were fresh out of college, both earning their bachelor’s degrees at the same university. College parties, football games, late-night study sessions were all spent together. They made friends who often made fun of them for how perfect a couple they were.
“You guys have ruined my marriage. And I’m not even married yet, but I know it will never live up to what you guys have. You guys make me sick,” their friend, Shirley, said.
“Yeah, ewww,” Ben and the rest of their college friends all made fake gagging sounds to tease them. “Love is gross, man.” They would say, trying (and failing) to sound comically ironic.
Despite the jokes, their friends were really happy for them. Finding your soulmate that early must be such a blessing, they thought. They felt dumb and empty after one-night-stands, after thinking of what they could have. Adil and Sara would make a love cynic a believer. It was palpable.
They had an apartment now, decent jobs, and a dog named Rocket. He was a mutt rescued from the local shelter.
Their love was total and complete, intense and quiet. It was fireworks yet wholesomely still and deliberate. They couldn’t wait to see each other after work and had date night every Friday; buying movie tickets or renting from blockbuster with a few glasses of wine.
Sara marveled at Adil, just as he marveled at her. They filled each other with wonder, and struck fear into one another, thinking about what they would do without the other. Sara recognized Adil’s greatness, neither was perfect, but Adil was damn close. He was kind and grossly selfless. He made her laugh endlessly, she thought he could have done stand up if he wanted. After a long day, she would come home to his undying patience and attention, as he helped her unpack the day’s baggage. “Do you want me to just listen or do you want advice?” He would ask before she started, once she was done talking, he would give her a hug and make her laugh. Nothing made him happier than making her happy, and she felt the same.
Sara’s intelligence is what Adil admired the most. He could look at her impossibly smooth face and see the wheels turning. He looked forward to their spirited debates and loved to hear her voice and see the enthusiasm she spoke with. Even when she was right, she was never mean about it. “You don’t have a mean bone in your body, do you?” Adil would ask her with a laugh.
There were tumultuous times. A year prior, Adil had lost his father and was officially alone with no family to speak of in the United States. It took a while, months before Adil was back to himself. In his grief, Sara saw Adil as a totally different person and at times feared she’d never get him back.
2013
It was the summer of 2013; Sara Jean Hobbs was now Sara Jean Miller. She lived in Northern California with her husband Tom, two little boys, and her mother.
Sara’s youngest son Maxwell had just come into the house, the screen door crashing behind him. It was a beautiful day and he had run down to meet the new neighbors since he saw a kid his age.
“Mom!” He yelled.
“Yes, dear?”
“Can I go play with my new friend?”
“Well, now that you’ve already gone down, I would feel rude if I sent you back there alone without saying hello. Come on, let’s go.” Sara said as she made for the door.
Their new neighbors were unpacking their U-Haul, the smallest version. “We had a moving company bring our furniture and other big stuff beforehand.” They explained. The couple exchanged introductions with Sara just before Max’s friend came flying out of the garage on his scooter. He looked to be just his age.
“Sara, this is Adam, our son,” Leo, the father, said.
“Oh,” Sara said. The wind was suddenly taken out of her. “N-nice to meet you, A-“ She took a deep breath, then continued, “nice to meet you. All of you, come now, Max. It’s time for lunch.” Max could see tears in his mother’s eyes as they walked back to their home.
Later that evening, Max explained to his grandmother what had happened. She only had one reply.
“Oh, Maxwell. Yes. Adam is one of the names we do not say in this house. No why’s, ifs, ands, or buts about it, young man. Ya hear me, now?” Based on the look on his grandmother’s face, and the tears he had seen in his mother’s eyes, he knew better than to continue his inquiry.
1999
It was the summer of 1999, Adil Adam Hall and Sara Jean Hobbs were hiking up a trail in Crater Lake National Park, Oregon. It was a place they had ventured to many times. It was the place they spoke with each other the least, the scenery brought too much wonder and introspective thought. The strikingly blue water looked almost artificial. The caldera was awe-inspiring, Sara and Adil would sit on a bench overlooking the water and imagine the ancient volcano that once stood where they sat erupting. Adil felt like he was missing out, as he did about many things, he had a wanderlust that was nearly unmatched. He also felt he was missing out, or missed out, on extraordinary events that either already happened or that would happen in the future. Sitting on that bench enjoying the beauty, it would often make him tear up. Sara never asked why.
“Sara?” Adil said in a very faint tone, she was standing in front of the bench looking out at the water. She turned around, met his gaze as he bent to one knee. She saw something in his hand reflecting sunlight directly into her eye, she stepped out of the harsh reflection still not understanding what was occurring. “Sara, I just want to thank you. Ever since I have known you my life has been immeasurably better. When you aren’t around, or I’m at work, and I think of you it makes me smile and often it makes me cry. Especially if I hear one of our songs on the radio because I imagine our wedding. With you all is meaningful, without you all is meaningless. So, thank you for being you, and thank you for loving me. Even when it is not easy, even when I give 20% and you give 80% without hesitation. I love you, Sara. I don’t wish for anything but a life and time with you. I only wish time has mercy on us, and when it no longer does... just know I will be waiting for you on the other side,” both were crying, Sara’s hand was over her mouth in disbelief with the occasional I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening laugh, “with all of that being said. Sara. Sara Jean Hobbs, will you marry me?”
“Yes! Yes, I will. But please, keep going with your monologue,” they embraced with great relief like they had not seen one another in months, as hikers strolled by. Even they felt love.
Sara and Adil left the lake soon after, driving in the summer heat with the windows down and their favorite songs playing, courtesy of their CD. Their favorite song was played on repeat: Fly Me to the Moon by Frank Sinatra. As the sun set, they stopped for dinner at a roadside diner in the desolate country and watched the sun disappear behind blue-tinted mountains.
2000
It was the Winter of 2000, a Friday in late December. Adil and Sara were driving home from the grocery store. It was a quiet ride home, even with the music playing loudly, Sara could tell something was off with Adil. It was the feeling one has with a twin when you have spent so much time with someone, you end up knowing them better than your own self and looking at them can often be similar to glancing in a mirror. In this mirror, Sara saw a hollow reflection. Adil was focused on the road, she couldn’t help but notice his hands slightly trembling on the steering wheel. Or was that just the shakiness of their old Honda Accord? It certainly did have a bit of a shake, especially when you drove faster than 80 MPH.
Sara didn’t say anything, she did not want to pry. She knew how Adil’s mind worked and she knew he had not gathered all of his thoughts and emotions. Instead, she focused in on her own thoughts. She pictured the last week and what may have gone wrong. She did notice Adil had taken more “joyrides” in the past few weeks. It helped him clear his head. As perfectly as Adil had been put together, the loss of his parents had created chinks in his unblemished armor. Sara pressed for him to consider therapy, he insisted that if things became unmanageable by his own mindful practices then he would certainly give it a try. That was months ago. This week had been the worst one yet for Adil, though he seldom displayed his emotions. He knew today was the day.
“Hey,” Sara said, sliding the backdoor shut. Adil was sitting out in the cold drinking a beer. He had been out there since they finished putting the groceries away. As soon as he saw her, he looked away then after a quick glance back at her, tears began streaming down his face. He put his beer down and began to sob into his hands. “Jeez, all I said was ‘hey’,” Adil let out a small giggle at that. Feeling more in love than he ever had. That made him even more upset.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“About? What’s wrong? You’re worrying me.”
“Sara, all I want you to know is that I love you. Do you know that? Please tell me you know that.”
“I do. Now, what is it?”
Adil looked up, his face soaked, staring at the gray sky as if he were searching for an answer to her question. No answer. “I have to go. I-I have to leave.”
“What? Where? What are you talking about?” Sara began to cry as well, feeling her stomach sink far below the ground and into the depths of hell.
“I-I,” Adil sniffled and pounded his hand on the arm of the chair, “I didn’t want it to be this way… I cheated. I’m sorry,” he couldn’t bear to look at her face after saying this and he never did. Adil stood up, his face leaking like a broken dam and went outside. Sara was in shock, she sat staring at the empty chair where Adil was sitting, tears streaming. She could hear Adil inside gathering his things in a frantic manner, this only added to her incomprehension. No, no, no, no. This can’t be real. This is not real.
Now it was quiet. Sara couldn’t tell if it had been five minutes or thirty, but the bright gray sky was now growing dark. The sky looked soulless, no doubt the worst sky she had seen in a while. She began to recall the best sky she had seen. It was recently, she thought. Maybe the last day Adil seemed normal. A winter sunset that turned the clouds an almost impossible pinkish purple, the fluffy clouds looked like Oregon State Fair cotton candy. The same fair they went to every year without fail, mostly due to its convenient location. Now all she could think is how she could never go back to that fair or listen to any of the songs she had heard since she was eight years old; she would never drink the same cocktails or the same wine; she would never burn the same candles or even use the same soap. They would all remind her of… him.
After realizing how cold she was, she forced herself inside. She immediately ran to the bathroom to throw up. She came out of the bathroom and realized Adil was already gone.
She would never see or hear about Adil Adam Hall for the rest of her life.
2001
“What can I get for ya?” the bartender asked Adil.
“The strongest whiskey you’ve got. Man, I love it here. It’s winter back home… I hate winter. I should have come here every winter… yeah, thanks for the drink… can I get another? Actually, make it two more. And make them doubles. Then I’m out of here.” Adil kept his promise and with swift motions, he had made the drinks disappear. Feeling just about as at peace as he could be in the circumstances, he stepped outside into the Australian sun. He stared into the blazing star above his head, it felt like a spotlight. Suddenly, he was hungover and desperately dejected. “Adil Hall,” he said aloud, “the man with no one. No family, not one friend. Not anymore. For once, I’m thankful for that.”
2003
“Hey again,” Tom said.
“Tom, this is your third time calling today,” Sara said, butterflies were in her stomach for the first time in a while.
“I know, I just can’t help but think about you.”
“What would Anthony think of this? We will get fired; you know. I’m pretty sure it’s in the employee handbook.”
“I’ll just quit, then. Easy choice.”
“Then you’re more of a fool than I thought,” Sara said, smiling wide.
“Can I take you on a date?” When Sara heard Tom say that she was overcome with joy. Truly the first joyous moment she’d had since Adil left. When he left, she packed up and moved to Portland making her commute to work, which was in Portland, much easier. She cut off all of her old friends, which was quite easy since she and Adil didn’t really keep any friends after college. Everyone went their own way. There were phone calls here and there and maybe dinner if someone was in town, other than that it was the two of them against the world… so she thought.
Sara knew that Tom had liked her ever since she started working at Noble Bank’s corporate office in 1998. Adil kept him from ever trying a move, instead, he was always overly polite and took whatever chance he could to steal a glance at her from across the room. After noticing Sara’s ring was missing, Tom was elated. He refrained from saying anything for a few days. However, once he noticed that Adil’s picture was now nowhere to be seen anywhere around her cubicle, he took his chance to ask.
Just at the sound of his name Sara packed up and went home. Leaving Tom standing at the empty cubicle and the entire office staring at him like he was a monster. “What did you say?” someone hissed at him.
Sara didn’t return to work for two days.
Tom never mentioned Adil for the rest of his life.
2021
It was the winter of 2021. Alice Hobbs, Sara’s mother, was on her death bed. She was 70 years old. She knew she was in her final moments as she lost her grip on reality… slowly… slowly. Her youngest grandson, Max. Sweet Maxwell. He was the only one in the room, the rest went down to grab dinner. Dorothy could almost puke at the thought of more hospital meals.
Her time was fading.. fading… her hand in the hand of her grandson. He was so big now, and she looked impossibly small, engulfed in white blankets and pillows. Max thought she seemed smaller each time he looked at her as if she were fading away right before his eyes.
“Max… oh, Max,” she whispered.
“Yes? What is it, grandma?”
“I believe… I believe it is my time, Max. Please go get the others so that I may say good-bye.”
Max stood still for a second, afraid to move. He went for the “HELP” button that would alert a nurse. She stopped him, shaking her head and mouthing the word “No”.
“Ah, before you go… there is something I must tell you. It is very important, now. So, listen up. In my room, under my bed, there is a small box. There’s a lock on it… the key is in my closet… inside of my shoe,” she smiled, “my good shoes, ya know… my good shoes… the red ones.” She took a deep, raspy, breath, “when your mother is old and dying and looks like me… when she is in her final moments, give her that box… give her that key.”
2062It was the summer of 2062. Sara Jean Hobbs had seen better days up to this point. In fact, she considered her life a good one. A great one, even, depending on the day. She was a great mother and great at her job. Sara retired as the Vice President of Noble Bank and had more accolades in her field than she could remember.
She was approaching her final days in her good life. She could feel it. All those years of wondering about what lay beyond and the unknown unknowns were finally to be answered.
She had a good husband. Tom. He was always good, never really great but never bad. He was a good father and their boys loved him dearly. Seeing him pass two years prior hurt them. She knew how they felt. Seeing a parent go was tough. She had witnessed it with Adil, and he was just a boy then. He was so unlucky.
Her boys were on their way up the elevator now. They were ready to say their good-byes. She was ready to say hers. It was a beautiful summer day and Sara was at such peace that it was eerie, it frightened her. She was so happy, nostalgic, and retrospective that it made her melancholy. A tear streamed down her face as she peered out of her window at the impossibly beautiful day. If someone had asked, she would’ve said the tear was half happy and half sad. She finally allowed herself to remember Adil. She held no more resentment. Take out that last one and the days I spent with you were the best days of my life… thank you for that, she thought to herself.
“Mom?” She turned around to see her boys Max and Camron. “Someone is here for you,” her heart skipped a beat but returned to somewhat normal as she saw her granddaughter, also named Sara, bolt into the room.
“Hello, dear!” She said almost crying. Knowing these were her last moments with her family hurt.
After things calmed down, Max sat next to her bed and handed her a box and key. “This is for you, mom. I have no idea what it is, I never opened it. Grandma told me about it the day she passed and said to give it to you when…” he paused, “she said to give it to you someday.”
Sara turned the key and opened the box. The first thing she noticed was the smell. Adil. Inside were old polaroids of her and Adil together throughout the years, one for each year, to be exact. Other trinkets were inside such as seashells they had collected together, his bracelets, and love notes she had written him. At the bottom was a letter. Her hands trembled slightly and the waterworks on her face had already begun. Her sons stood motionless, wondering what could make her so emotional.
The letter read:
Dear Sara Jean Hobbs,
I know I have some explaining to do. I just hope this letter has found you before you have left this Earth. I know it won’t be the same without you. Less vibrant, less beautiful.
I’ve been listening to Fly Me to the Moon on repeat for about an hour now. It’s playing inside my hotel room as I sit outside in the rain. It sounds so much better this way, you should try it.
I lied. Way back on that December day. The 29th. I remember, wasn’t that long ago for me. I never cheated on you, Sara. I never did. No way I could do that.
A few weeks prior to that day I went to the doctor for a physical, not sure if you remember. But after that I made another appointment to go back, Dr. Benson thought something was wrong with my stomach. I did lie then. I told you I was going on drives to clear my head. But really, I was being diagnosed with cancer. It was too late for treatment; it had spread to too many vital organs by then. I was told I had a month, two at max.
On that day I had a decision to make. Tell you the truth and see the life fall out of you, or lie and make you hate me, detest me. It ached my soul to imagine you hating me… but I could not let you die hating me.
Our love was different, sometimes it felt too powerful, too absolute. If I died, I knew you would seldom see a happy day. Because if you died, I would want to die myself. I wanted you to live your life as fully as you possibly could.
I wanted you to live in spite of me rather than not live because I was gone. I’m sorry.
I hope you found love again, I hope you brought children into this world. I’m sure they love you just as much as I did… as much as I do. You are my everything, Sara. I’m sorry if you believe I made the wrong decision by keeping the truth from you. When my parents died it was pure anguish within me, I could not bring that upon you.
I remember when I first kissed you. Do you remember? At the beach. Boy, was I smooth. You made me a better man, you made me a believer in the world, you made me look forward to each day. You are, Sara. You are the universe’s greatest creation.
Despite my dire situation, I find solace knowing I lived a good life, a good one with you. I cannot count how many good times I had, how many nostalgia-soaked memories of lying with you under the sun or stars. Too many impromptu dance parties in the kitchen, too many sweet and soft Christmas mornings. Just you and I. That is all. Life cannot be measured by duration, so I do not feel short-changed. The way I see it, there are four ways life can play out. Either a long and great life, a short and great life, a long and bad life or a short and bad life. In this situation, I had the second-best option. Not too bad, don’t you think? I wish you will have the first.
Like we always said… whatever is next. Whatever lies on the other side, I will be waiting for you. I’ll love you in this life and the next.
Sincerely,
Adil Adam Hall
Sara put the letter down. She was no longer crying, only smiling. I knew it, she thought, laughing to herself.
She spent the rest of her day feeling bliss, happy to have her boys and granddaughter with her.
That night, as she passed on, she saw Adil clear as day. They were standing in their childhood neighborhood back in Salem. The sun was high and the trees were gently swaying in the breeze. Adil was standing in the sidewalk about ten feet ahead of her, smiling peacefully. “Did you get my letter?” He asked as he walked up and grabbed her hand.
