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He was awoken by the sound of voices carrying from downstairs and for an uneasy moment he forgot he wasn’t alone in the house. A further hazy few seconds went by before, hearing a burst of music, he placed the noise as the television set.
Lying awake a while longer, he processed his situation. It was Friday morning; just after seven, according to the clock on the wall. They had one more day before they had to actually pull this thing off.
As he became fully, groggily awake, it occurred to him that it was early for Marty to be up. The kid was more of a late riser, when Emmett didn’t drag him out of bed to get on with business.
Putting on his robe he shuffled downstairs to investigate.
Marty was in the lounge. He was sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the couch, watching the television like a little boy. “Oh – hey, Doc,” he said vaguely as Emmett came in, not looking away from the screen. The Howdy Doody puppets were in the midst of a musical number.
He adjusted the cord of his robe. “Everything alright?”
“Hm?” Marty scrubbed a hand over his face. “You know, this show’s actually pretty good.”
Emmett hovered by the couch, not sure how to proceed. He had the sense that Marty was upset. He’d never been the best at handling emotional problems – he had no idea how to handle a teenager, let alone one from the future – he didn’t even know for sure if there was a problem to be handled.
There were dark circles under Marty’s eyes. He was still wearing the clothes he’d had on at dinner the night before.
“Have you slept?”
Marty rubbed again at his eyes. “I’m not sure.” He blinked, and squinted at the television. “You wanna watch Howdy Doody?”
He sat, tentatively, on the couch. He said, “Do you want to – talk?”
“About what?” Marty’s eyes were trained on the dancing puppets.
It was only natural the kid was upset, in the circumstances. So far he’d been very brave about it – or else he hadn’t fully processed the danger he was in – either way, he’d taken it in his stride. Emmett hoped to God it wasn’t hitting him now, at the eleventh hour. They still had a lot to do.
“Everything’s gonna go fine tomorrow,” he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Sure,” said Marty. “I know that.”
It was hard to tell whether or not he meant it. “Then what’s the matter?”
Marty shifted against the couch and didn’t answer him at once. On the screen, the musical number ended and two of the puppets entered into a conversation. “Should we be doing this?”
“Should we be sending you back to the future?” Emmett said, astonished. “Of course we should. “You can’t exactly live out your life here –”
“No, I mean,” Marty interrupted. “My mom and dad.”
“What about them.”
Marty’s shoulders slumped. He said, stilted, “They’re not – happy. In the future.”
And Emmett belatedly caught his meaning. “Ah – Marty –”
“You heard all that stuff my mom said the other day,” Marty said, voice growing bitter. “She’s not into him.”
“That’s only because –”
“She only went out with him in the first place cause she felt sorry for him – they don’t even like each other.”
“Now, I’m sure that’s not true,” said Emmett. “They’re married, aren’t they?”
“They don’t even talk to each other.”
He wanted to protest – but Marty knew better than he ever could how his parents behaved – but he knew, intimately, that two people being married did not mean that they cared for each other.
“I don’t know,” said Marty, filling the silence that had descended. “What if this is – for the best. Y’know?”
“Marty, if we don’t correct the timeline you and your brother and sister will never be born,” said Emmett. “How could that possibly be for the best?”
“They might marry other people and have different kids,” Marty said.
“Marty –”
“They might be happier that way.”
The statement hung in the air between them. On the screen, the puppets chattered back and forth.
“Marty,” he said. “The fact of the matter is, they did get married, and we have a – a responsibility to make sure the timeline stays on track.”
“I don’t know, Doc,” said Marty. “If you know someone’s gonna do something that’s gonna hurt them. Don’t you have a responsibility to stop them?”
“It’s their choice to –”
“Yeah, but it’s not anymore, is it?” Marty shot back. “I’m making them do it even though I know it’s gonna suck for them.” He breathed out, slowly. “It doesn’t feel good.”
He wanted to argue. But he couldn’t help but think of his own parents – their cold, lonely marriage – it wasn’t such a stretch to suppose that they might have been happier apart. But would he really sacrifice his own existence, for the sake of that happiness?
He would not. That Marty was even willing to consider it in equal measures appalled and – almost – impressed him. It was – courageous. Unfathomably stupid. But it took courage.
Shifting further down the couch, he laid a hand tentatively on Marty’s shoulder. “Marty – think of it like this,” he said. “Say you’re right, and your parents might have been happier without each other.” Beneath his hand he felt Marty tense. “Surely you don’t think they’d want rid of you and your siblings?”
“They wouldn’t even miss us.” Marty’s voice was unsteady.
“If you gave them the choice,” Emmett persisted. “If you asked your mother and father if they’d rather you be gone forever. Do you really think they’d be alright with that?”
Marty breathed in, and out, and didn’t answer him.
Emmett squeezed his shoulder. “Maybe you’re right that they don’t like each other,” he said. “But they must love you. Mustn’t they?”
“I guess,” Marty said. “I guess you’re right.”
He didn’t sound entirely certain. But it was a start. “You ought to get some sleep,” Emmett suggested. “You look exhausted.”
Marty raked his hands up through his hair, eyes screwing shut.
“Marty?” he said. “How about some breakfast. I can make breakfast?”
“Yeah.” Marty took his hands away from his face and breathed in, seeming to compose himself. “Yeah, Doc, that sounds good.”
Rising from the couch, Emmett offered him a hand up; and he accepted.