A Life Uncorrected
Sometimes the wrong life is the right choice
Tom Wallace didn’t bother making any New Year’s resolutions this year. He didn’t even make it three days into last year’s “dry January.” So when he woke up on New Year’s Day, he wasn’t burdened with delusional ambitions to better himself in any specific way.
He hadn’t planned anything for the day so he laid in bed a half hour longer than usual. His mind wandered aimlessly and he slipped back into dreamland once or twice before a knock at the front door startled him awake.
Tom quickly pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt before answering the door. He tried to remember if he was expecting any deliveries. Maybe it was a late Christmas present. But from who? He opened the door and looked down to see a well-dressed little person holding a leather satchel.
“Can I help you?” Tom asked the diminutive visitor. He felt bad that the guy was out here selling whatever he was selling on New Year’s Day.
“Do not be afraid,” said the visitor with a hand on his chest.
“Why should I be afraid?”
“We’re just supposed to say that up front—protocol. My name is Shamus. I’m an angel.”
“I’m sure you are. How can I help you?”
“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake.”
“What kind of mistake?”
“Your fate has been gravely affected by a clerical error up in operations. The trajectory of your life has been severely altered.”
“Listen, you don’t have to go through this whole song and dance,” Tom said. “Just tell me what you’re selling. I probably can’t afford whatever it is.”
“Oh, no, Mr. Wallace. I’m not here to sell you anything. I’m here to make things right—to put you back on the path you were meant to be on. Do you have a few minutes to go over the procedure?”
“Look I’m not a religious person and I don’t want to waste your time. But I’m happy to take a brochure or whatever.”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” he said with a chuckle. “Let’s see, how do I put this? You’re supposed to be financially independent and happily married to the woman of your dreams. Not divorced with less than $100 in your checking account.”
“Hey, how do you know about my bank account?”
“I know everything about you, Mr. Wallace. You should be in Thailand with your beautiful wife right now celebrating your early retirement.”
Tom hadn’t planned very well for retirement. He expected to continue working until he had one foot in the grave. “What do you mean, early retirement?”
“I’d be happy to go over your financials. You did very well for yourself the last 20 years. You don’t have to work another day for the rest of your life. That is, if you agree to the rollback.”
“Rollback? What are you talking about?”
“Well the corrective procedure rolls back the clock 20 years—when the error occurred. Your life will resume at that point in time and you'll have no memory of the last two decades.”
Tom smirked and raised an eyebrow. “I see. And is that a time machine in your bag there?”
“Oh no, Mr. Wallace,” he said with a chuckle. “This is your restitution in the event you choose not to go through with the procedure.”
“Restitution, huh?”
“May I come in?”
Tom sighed. “Sure, why not?” He didn’t have anything else planned for the day.
The little man came in, took his hat off, and sat at the kitchen table. He pulled out an iPad and turned it toward Tom. There was a gorgeous brunette pictured on the screen.
“Who’s that?” Tom asked.
“That’s your wife.”
Tom laughed loudly. “I think you might have made another mistake. That’s not her. My wife, uh, ex-wife doesn’t look anything like that.”
“Oh, no. You don’t have an ex-wife. You never married her. That was the error, see? You knew it wasn’t right from the very beginning, but someone—” he looked up toward the ceiling, “failed to supply the courage you needed to call it off. If you had, you would have taken the money you saved for the wedding and invested it, which is what you were planning to do in the first place. You worked hard for the next ten years, living frugally, and slowly building your wealth. You met Natalia at a holiday party in 2015. You fell instantly and madly in love. You married two years later and bought a 1940’s craftsman in Highland Park—fully renovated.” He swiped to another photo of the house, professionally landscaped and lit, with a luxury SUV in the driveway.
Tom swiped to the next photo of he and Natalia on their wedding day. She had on a snug, low cut wedding dress and was feeding him cake. In the next photo, they were on a beach, walking hand in hand. She wore a slight turquoise bikini and he wore trunks with no shirt. He zoomed in. “Do I have abs?!”
“You took great care of your body, Mr. Wallace. As did she, by the looks of it.”
“Do we have kids?”
Shamus took the iPad back and shook his head. “No, Mr. Wallace. Unfortunately, Natalia cannot have children. But at least you get to travel every year. You’ve been to six continents. You have quite an enviable life.”
“I’ll say.”
“Are you ready to start the procedure?”
Tom hesitated. “So if I do this, my kids will never be born.”
“Yes, that’s correct. But you won’t miss them. You’ll have no memory of this life. This timeline will dissolve once the procedure is complete.”
“Wait. I don’t know. Can I think it over?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wallace. I’m afraid you have to decide now.”
“What if I opt out?”
“Opt out? I don’t understand.”
“I can’t lose my kids,” Tom said.
“But you wouldn’t know they ever exis—”
“I know, I know—I won’t have any memory of this life. But I know them now. I don’t want to live in a timeline where they don’t exist.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh, yes, I would.” Shamus smiled warmly. “I had six of my own when I lived here.”
“Six!”
“Yes, well in those days that was fairly common. They didn’t all make it to adulthood. We didn’t know about germs, see? But I cherished each and every one of them and I couldn’t imagine a life without any of them either.” He took a deep breath. “Well, I suppose you’ve made your choice. I do have a consolation gift.”
Shamus unzipped his leather satchel and pulled out an orange bowling ball.
“What’s that?” Tom asked with furrowed eyebrows.
“It’s signed by Woody Harrelson. This is the same bowling ball from the 1996 film Kingpin.” He turned the ball to show me the signature. “It’s a fine collector’s item.”
“Okay?” Tom couldn’t tell if this was some kind of joke.
“Oh, and we have this—” He reached into his jacket pocket. “—this $50 gift card to The Cheesecake Factory! I hear they have over 40 different kinds of cheesecake. I’ve never had cheesecake personally, but it sounds amazing.”
Tom took the card with a puzzled face. “Thanks, I guess?”
“You’re welcome.” Shamus stood, placed the hat back on his head. “I’ll show myself out. Happy New Year, Mr. Wallace.”
“Happy New Year,” Tom said robotically, still staring at the gift card in his hand.
Shamus lifted his hat in a genteel manner and left.
Tom awoke to dogs barking at the front door. He got out of bed to see who it was, but there was no one there. He padded into the kitchen to start his coffee and feed the dogs. As the water heated in the kettle, he mindlessly shuffled through a pile of unopened mail on the counter.
Tom opened a square envelop with no return address. Inside was a gift card with a single slice of strawberry cheesecake on the front.
His phone dinged, sharp and sudden, and he dropped the card on the counter. He grabbed his phone to see a text from his daughter:
Happy New Year! 🎉🎉🎉
Awesome story. I've had the 'there's such a thing as *early* retirement?!' moment myself. Loved the ending.
Really great story. The consolation prize was fantastic.