by Bree Wolf
From what my brother had said, it sounded like they had been living together. Why on earth would they do that? They were like fire and water, jumping down each other’s throat at every opportunity. Granted, opposites were said to attract. But Andy and Abby? That was too weird to even think about.
Resting my head on my folded hands, my eyes slid over the headlines of the newspaper my brother had left on the table. There was nothing that caught my eye until I stopped at today’s date.
Instantly, I felt the blood drain from my face.
According to the newspaper, today was August 10th 2011.
About four years had passed since yesterday.
Chapter Six – Freaky
I’m in the future was the first–granted bizarre–thought to enter my mind.
However, the moment I realized its implication, I knew it to be wrong. I wasn’t in the future. Although yesterday–my yesterday–had happened four years ago, I slowly started to realize that I did somewhat remember what had happened in-between, between yesterday and today.
At first, the in-between wasn’t as clear as I was used to when remembering my past. But piece by piece, my memories came knocking, and I did recognize them as my own.
There was no gap. No sudden jump forward without knowledge of how I’d gotten to where I was now. It was more that I felt like I was experiencing a part of my life out of order.
My yesterday felt closer to me, appeared more relevant than it should considering the time that had passed since, and I wondered why that was. It was almost like that particular time of my life was trying to catch my attention. But why?
Considering my brother’s reaction, I quickly discarded the idea that I wasn’t the only one experiencing these things–whatever they were. He had not been confused or alarmed in any way. So clearly his yesterday was not the same as mine. In all likelihood, no one else’s probably was.
While I had been…well, sleeping…four years had passed, and in those four years, my brother and my best friend, who had never been able to be around each other without declaring war, who had constantly bitched at each other at every opportunity, had become a couple.
Suddenly, an image flashed into my mind of when they had told me.
For weeks, they’d been behaving in a strange way, which–come to think of it–was nothing so unusual, which was probably why I hadn’t figured out what was going on right under my nose.
Remembering it now, I knew that I had laughed at them, unbelieving, sure that they were playing some kind of mean trick on me. Only they hadn’t, and I had been forced to accept that the impossible was possible after all.
However, even as a couple, they had never gotten along. There had been constant fighting and arguing, and from the beginning, I had been concerned, worried even about what they might do to each other. After a while, though, I had realized that they were happy and that bitching at each other–to them–was a natural way of communicating.
Why they had broken up, I didn’t actually know. Neither one of them had told me. But knowing them as well as I did, I knew it had probably been something insignificant. Something not worth fighting about. But they had, and it had split them up. With all that arguing, someone had been bound to get hurt sooner or later.
Well, it looked like sooner or later was now.
A low buzz coming from the black, baggy purse on the couch led me to my cell phone. Again, it was as though one second I was discovering something new, something completely unknown, only to realize in the next instant that it was literally old news.
Flipping open my cell, a text message appeared. Still up for lunch? Ryan.
For a split second, I wondered who the hell Ryan was, only to remember him a moment later.
One day last winter during the most awful snow storm ever, he had come to the restaurant. He had been one of three customers to actually find their way there–much to Leo’s disapproval. He would rather have closed and gone home. But he didn’t have the heart to send them back out into the cold, and so there had been nineteen waiters, chefs and dishwashers–we all only lived about a block or two away and had thus been compelled to show up for work–taking care of three customers.
After a couple of minutes of slightly hostile sulking, we’d all helped out, whipping up some food and giving up on real work for the day, we had joined our customers.
At first, they’d looked at us a little confused when we had squeezed into the booths with them–all three of them had been sitting by themselves–but after a short moment of hesitation, they’d been delighted to have company.
Ryan and I had soon been lost in conversation. He worked as a journalist for City News and had millions of stories to tell about sleazy politicians, drunk celebrities and things that actually did matter in the world. His range of interest seemed to be limitless, and the habit of writing for a living had turned him into a wonderful storyteller.
I’d hardly noticed how time passed.
Ever since that night, Ryan had been a good friend of mine, and when a spot at the newspaper had opened up, he had asked and I’d accepted without hesitation. Granted, it was only as a mailroom clerk, but I so desperately wanted a change of scenery that I had taken it gratefully.
More than ever, I had wanted to write. I had wanted to do what he did for a living, and I had to start somewhere. So I’d paid attention and listened, and after only one year, I felt more confident about my writing than I ever had. Ryan offered to read my stuff, mostly articles and reviews on books and musicals as well as plays and movies, and he was always honest, telling me that what I’d written sucked if it did.
Well, and sometimes it just did.
Slipping into my casual work wear, I was out the door and on my way to the newspaper in a matter of minutes. I didn’t know why but I felt excited. Again, everything felt slightly new and unknown, only to appear familiar in the next instant. It was the strangest feeling.
The building the newspaper was located in was only a block from the restaurant so that it only took me a few more minutes to get there.
Riding up the elevator, I felt myself almost dancing in my shoes, too giddy to stay still. A red-faced bald guy with thick horn-rimmed glasses gave me a disapproving look, but I couldn’t have cared less. As the doors opened and the hustle bustle of the newspaper hit me, I felt a smile spread over my face and knew that I liked being there.
Friendly faces greeted me as I started on my rounds, distributing mail and collecting that which needed to be sent out. It wasn’t the most challenging job, but it put me in a position where I could nurture my abilities, hoping that one day I’d be sitting at one of these desks, writing about what went on in the world–culture-wise of course.
The day passed quickly, and lunch time was only five minutes away when a friendly “Hey, you!” made me turn around.
“How did it go today?” I asked. “Interviewed anyone interesting?”
Ryan grinned. “I’d tell you all about it, but I’m too hungry to concentrate. Chinese okay?”
I nodded, and we headed out to one of our favorite lunch places. Hidden away between huge office buildings was a cozy, little Chinese restaurant serving food that was actually to die for. You could barely see the place from the street, and only few people knew it was there.
“Fried rice or noodles?” Ryan asked, looking at me over the rim of his menu. “I think I’m in the mood for chicken. You?”
“That’s fine with me,” I said. “As long as you promise not to eat all the dumplings.”
A grin spread over his face. “I promise I won’t.”
“That’s what you said last time.” I looked at him chidingly. “And when I came back from the restroom, they were all gone.”
“I don’t know what happened there.”
“Well, I do. You ate them. Doesn’t need a detective to figure that out.”
As always, the food was delicious, and Ryan made a point of not eating a single dumpling. In the end, I had to put one on his plate because he was complaining
that I would unjustly accuse him again if he dared to eat one.
“So, what’d you do all day?” I asked when we were halfway through our lunch and he didn’t look so famished any more.
“A little bit of editing, which I really could do without,” he said with an annoyed look on his face. “But then later I had an interview with this new sci-fi author. He just wrote his first bestseller and seems to be quite up and coming.”
“What’s his name?”
He glanced at his notes. “Nathan Alexander.”
I shook my head. “Never heard of him. But maybe my brother has. He’s crazy about that alien-conspiracy stuff.”
“Don’t be so narrow-minded,” Ryan chided. “Sci-Fi is not just about aliens. It’s a wide field of futuristic ideas of all kinds. Basically, anything you can think of.”
“Anything?” Maybe I was stuck in some kind of sci-fi story. With all the normality of the day, I had almost forgotten about my own freaky experience. “What about time travel?” I asked carefully.
Ryan nodded. “Sure. It’s a popular theme. Why do you ask?”
I shook my head. “I was just wondering, do people who travel through time usually remember what happened in-between?”
He grinned at me. “Well, theoretically speaking—”
“Of course.”
“—if they travel into the past then they usually do, but naturally not if they go to the future.”
“Why not?”
He frowned at me. “Because they haven’t experienced it yet.”
I shook my head. “Sure. Sorry, I guess all that time travel stuff like in Back to the Future with all that talk of thinking four-dimensionally has me kind of confused.”
“All this is theoretical anyway,” Ryan reminded me. “No one has ever traveled through time.” He laughed. “At least, not that we know of. Now, wouldn’t that be a story?”
“It would, yes,” I agreed, staring at the dumpling on my plate.
“Something wrong?” Ryan asked, frowning at me.
I shook my head. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re acting weird. With all that talk about time travel. Usually you move past that kind of stuff as quickly as possible because…and I quote, ‘life is too short to deal with that kinda crap’. So, where does that sudden interest come from?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just something stupid my brother said.”
“I guess that’s nothing new,” Ryan said, grinning.
“No, I guess not,” I agreed.
After that, we switched back to a safer topic, and before long, lunch was over and we headed back to the office. The rest of the day passed peacefully but busily so that once again I had no time for more considerations regarding my own experience with time travel or whatever you wanted to call it.
Walking home at the end of the day, my cell phone rang, and as I picked up, Abby’s voice said, “I’m just around the corner from your apartment, are you home?”
“Almost. I’m just down the str—oh, there you are.” I waved to her and turned off the phone.
After making sure that Andy wasn’t home, we settled onto the couch with a cup of tea and a few homemade chocolate chip cookies. Abby couldn’t cook if her life depended on it, but she was one hell of a baker.
“So, how are you?” I asked after giving her a moment to collect her thoughts.
She just shrugged. “I’m glad I finally kicked his ass out,” she said, but her voice wasn’t angry, and she looked at me with a sad grin, “but I miss him.”
I smiled at her. “Believe me, I know what you mean. When he’s around, he has the tendency to drive you insane. But when he’s not, it’s…too quiet.”
She nodded. “Yes, it’s quiet.” Suddenly, she looked up, alarmed. “But don’t tell him I said that.”
I shook my head vigorously. “Of course not. It’d go straight to his head and make him even more obnoxious.”
A faint smile played on her lips.
“Be honest,” I insisted. “How are you?”
“I’m not sure. I feel a little relieved that he’s finally gone. Lately, it just got too much. All the arguing and his little obsessions. I just don’t want to have to deal with it anymore.”
I grinned at her. “And here I thought you liked all the arguing. I mean, I never understood any of it, but somehow it seemed to work for you two.”
Her face became serious. “Well, you know me…I’m by no means what you’d call conventional. Most people don’t get me.” She smiled at me. “Neither do you. But you still take me for who I am. You’ve never tried to change me or made me feel guilty for being who I am.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I wouldn’t say that. I got you to quit leaving the cap off the tooth paste.”
She grinned at me then. “You know what I mean. That’s little things. They are insignificant somehow and have nothing to do with who you really are. It’s a normal compromise of living together.”
“What about Andy?” I asked. “Has he ever tried to change you?”
A new sadness came to her eyes. “Not at first. And I loved him for it.” The ghost of a smile flashed over her face. “But lately, he’s changed himself. He tries to fit in somehow. I have no idea why. I thought he liked the person he was.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I did.”
I handed her another cookie and Abby took it gratefully.
“Don’t take him too seriously,” I said. “Andy is…I don’t really know how to describe him. But the only thing about him that would qualify as any kind of a constant is that he always changes. He never stands still. One day, he is crazy about one thing, and the next, it’s already old news. It’s like he gets bored with everything in a matter of minutes. It’s always been like that.” Suddenly, I had to laugh. “Hell, Christmas or birthday shopping for him has always been awful. When the day in question finally came along, the perfect present I had for him was already of the past. Not once did I manage to give him something he really wanted to have right then and there in that moment.”
Abby’s head sank. “Well, now I am old news.”
Alarmed, I took her hand. “Abby, that’s not what I meant and you know that.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Yes, it does,” I objected. “Listen, you’re the first real, adult relationship Andy has ever had. And I’ve never seen him this happy than during the past year.” A weak smile played over her lips. “And even though he’s a jerk for wanting to change the perfect person that you are,” I grinned at her, and she grinned back, an amused twinkle back in her eyes, “maybe he didn’t mean to tell you what you understood. Maybe…not maybe, I am a hundred percent sure he did not think about what he was doing. He never does, and it’s always gotten him into trouble. And he’s never known how to get himself out of it. In many ways, he’s like a child in desperate need of a parent to help him straighten out his life.”
Abby nodded. “That sounds like him.”
“It sure does, Sister,” I told her, pulling her into a comforting hug. “Do you want me to kick his ass for you?”
Resting her head against my shoulder, Abby mumbled, “Would you?”
I nodded. “Consider it done.”
For a while, we just sat like this, comfortable in each other’s company, not needing to talk. But when the sun had finally disappeared and I heard Abby stifle a yawn, I asked, “Want to go to sleep? Maybe you just need some rest.”
Sitting up, she looked at me with big eyes. “You’re right, I’m tired. But I don’t want to sleep yet. I wouldn’t be able to anyway. There’s too much spooking around in my head.” She took a deep breath. “Do you have anything to tell? Anything interesting happen today? Anything that might distract me from these gloomy thoughts?”
I hesitated, wondering whether or not to tell Abby about my weird time shift. However, something on my face must have given me away because suddenly her eyes shone bright with anticipation.
“Okay, Jena, dish!” she said, seeing my reluctance.
/> “Honestly, I don’t know where to begin.”
Abby grinned at me. “That’s how good stories start.”
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. And don’t laugh,” I ordered, settling back into the couch. “Well, let’s see.” I thought for a moment about how to begin. “Do you remember, when we both still worked at the restaurant, and you told me about that guy who’d asked about me but then disappeared?”
Abby nodded, a slight frown on her face. “That was years ago.” Suddenly, her eyes brightened. “You saw him again?”
I shook my head, and the smile died on her face. “No, it was just for reference.”
“Reference to what?”
An embarrassed laugh escaped me. “Oh, you’re so not going to believe me.”
“Try me,” Abby urged.
“Well, to you, all that happened years ago,” I started, seeing Abby’s eyes fixed intently on mine. “But to me, it was only last week.”
There I just stopped, watching her face, and waited for her to start laughing because obviously it had to be a joke.
She didn’t though. She seemed to be waiting, too. Watching her eyes move from side to side, I could see her mind at work. She was actually taking me seriously, thinking about what I’d just told her.
“Last week,” she said, and it wasn’t a question. “What happened?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. I went to bed, got up and poof, it was four years later.”
Abby’s eyes went big. “Wow!” she said. “Wow!”
I nodded. “You tell me!”
“So, you don’t know what happened since then?” she asked.
“Well, that’s where it gets really weird,” I started.
She laughed. “That’s where it gets really weird? Your standards must be way off.”
Realizing what I’d just said, I laughed too. “I guess they are. I just meant that at first I didn’t know how much time had passed, and I felt like I didn’t know what was going on. But then the memories were suddenly there. It’s just that that week four years ago feels closer than anything that’s happened since. I don’t know how to explain it.”