Ricky fumbled in the dresser drawer, thinking how he needed to do laundry since most of his clean socks were old, the wrong color, or had holes. He found a pair that might do, but when he pulled the balled socks apart, something fell out.
It was a watch.
Not just any watch, but a stainless steel Omega with gold markers and hands. It had a clean, futuristic design common to when it was made in the 1950s. And Ricky knew when it had been made because it had been his father’s watch, and his grandfather’s.
That was a problem.
Ricky now remembered having wedged the watch into a sock in his suitcase when they stayed at a questionable hotel on tour nearly a year ago. He then promptly forgot what he had done and tore the room apart, convinced that it had been lost or stolen. Distraught and irritable, he moped at concerts and snapped at the band until a week later, Kalila casually handed him the watch, saying Nevin had found it on the tour bus. How it got there, Ricky wasn’t sure, nor did he care. He was so thrilled to have it back he didn’t question her story, but now…
He set the watch on the bed and opened another drawer. And yes, here was the watch again. He held it to the light. Same steel case, same gold dial, even the same patina on the back and wear on the leather strap.
He laid it next to the other and examined them side-by-side. Even the nick in the crystal was the same.
This would never do.
He tugged on his socks, and found his shoes and jacket. Then he shoved both watches in his pocket, grabbed his keys, and headed out to the car. But as he slammed the car door shut and reached for the seatbelt, a thought struck him. Yes, the band had lied to him, and maybe they had replaced his watch just so he would shut up about it. But there was a sweetness to the gesture, too. There were other ways they could’ve dealt with his moping than by conjuring an exact replica so he could be happy again.
And it was an exact replica. He dug in his pocket and pulled out the two watches, marveling all over again at how alike they were. In fact, there was no way to tell which was which.
No way at all.
For a long moment, he sat numbed by his own stupidity. Then he picked one, wound it up, and held it to his ear, charmed as he had been as a child, by its ticking.
Lost once, found twice, and both times special.