Wisteria Wrinkle

by Angela Pepper

  “I’m back,” Queenie said, patting herself. “Have I died? This must be heaven.” She pushed the blanket off her lap and sprang out of the wheelchair. She was still wearing a hospital gown and disposable slippers—not exactly queenly attire, but her posture became more regal as she approached the cave opening and peered outside.

  Zinnia joined her at the cave opening. The others held back, watching and murmuring to each other.

  Queenie looked out over the desert of her kingdom. Her eyes glistened.

  “I’m home,” Queenie said. “I never thought I’d find my way home again.”

  Zinnia felt a sympathetic rush of emotion, mixed with the almost overwhelming urge to run full speed for the elevator and press the button to go back to her own home.

  “Thank you so much,” Queenie said to Zinnia. Her voice was raspy, but not from age. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this. I barely know you.”

  “I have to confess something,” Zinnia said. “We brought you here so that you could save someone else. Your granddaughter, Liza.”

  Queenie’s eyelashes fluttered and her expression grew pained. “Liza’s in trouble?”

  Zinnia swallowed hard. There’d been no sign of Liza since her disappearance last night. This ploy was a long shot, but it was all they had.

  “She might be in trouble,” Zinnia said. “But we have an idea. Do you see those two arguing over there?” She pointed to the side of the mountain.

  Another version of the woman, dressed in a regal gown, was still arguing with the lava king.

  Queenie chuckled. “I remember him, all right. It’s all coming back to me. He’s such a stubborn man! It takes him decades to admit when he’s wrong, you know.” She squinted at the two figures on the mountainside. The sun had risen, and the sky was red and clear, but there was a cloud of smoke surrounding the arguing royals. “Who’s that he’s arguing with? Is it Liza?”

  “That’s... you. I don’t know if it’s all come back to you yet, if you even remember, but this is the part where you’ve circled back. There’s an overlap.”

  “An overlap?”

  The woman was understandably confused, but Zinnia understood it perfectly. The overlap was similar to what had happened back at City Hall, when the cleaning lady had watched herself clean the top floor. How could Zinnia explain it to Queenie?

  “You’ve traveled back in time,” Zinnia said. “It’s 1955 again, more or less, but in a different world.”

  “It is? How can that be?”

  “Magic,” Zinnia said.

  Recognition flickered across Queenie’s honey-brown eyes. “I know about magic,” she said. “This land with the red sun is full of magic.”

  “So, you believe me that you’ve traveled back in time?”

  Queenie nodded slowly. “This is the overlap. That’s me over there.” She looked down at her hospital gown and patted herself. “I can’t talk to myself looking like this. I’ll be so frightened.”

  “We’ll get you a change of clothes. All you need to do is convince the version of yourself who’s arguing with the king to trade places. She’ll come back here and go down the stairs, which are...” Zinnia realized she hadn’t checked the stairs yet.

  Dawna, who’d been listening attentively, interjected, “The stairs are right here, Zinnia. As long as Gavin keeps the elevator open, I think they’ll stay. There’s a hole in the cave with stairs going down. I already went to have a peek. It’s 1955 down there, all right. I came back here fast, before anyone got any ideas.”

  “Thank you,” Zinnia said. “I guess we’re ready to make the exchange.”

  When she turned back to Queenie, the woman looked more alert than ever. She started to step out of the cave onto the pathway.

  “Wait,” Zinnia said. “Your clothes. I’m sure we can rustle up something.” She glanced around the cave, searching for extra clothing.

  Something scraped the dust behind her. A blue snake slithered into sight, then changed into a woman again. Diablo. She was nude, and holding out a blue dress and a pair of sparkling shoes.

  “Take these, my queen,” Diablo said.

  Queenie cried out and hugged her friend. “Diablo! I thought I’d never see you again! I thought you were dead!”

  Diablo looked at Zinnia and asked, “What is she talking about? A goddess does not die.”

  Zinnia took in a deep breath. This was the tricky part. “Diablo, you’re going to go through to 1955 with your friend.” She pointed to the royal couple arguing on the mountainside. “You’re going with the one who’s arguing with the king over which one of them starts all the arguments.” She gestured to the rejuvenated Queenie. “And this version is going to stay here with the king to fulfill her promise, and to make sure he doesn’t go back to torturing everyone.”

  The women stared at Zinnia as though expecting more explanation.

  “That queen gave her word that she wouldn’t leave this land,” Zinnia said. “That’s why Queenie has to take her place. Whether or not you tell the king about the switch, that’s up to you.”

  Diablo looked unconvinced. “We could send this one to your Earth past.” She pointed at the new arrival.

  “We can’t do that,” Zinnia said. “If we did, this Queenie would experience the same sixty-odd years of life over and over again with her memories intact. She would have to make all the same choices, knowing the outcomes, good or bad. She would live that existence over and over in a loop. We can’t do that to a person. It could be heaven, or it could be hell.”

  Diablo frowned. “It would be hell,” she said. “But why do I have to go?”

  “Because you did,” Zinnia said plainly. “I know it sounds far-fetched, but it’s what you’re going to do. I know, because it’s already happened.” She paused, unsure if she should say the next part, then decided to go for it. “I know because I’ve met your grandchildren.”

  “Liesss,” Diablo hissed. “I cannot have children.”

  “Maybe not here, but you can have them on Earth. And you will. When you go down those stairs, you’ll meet a wonderful man who’s already a bit mad, and...” She smiled. “I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you.”

  Diablo had a faraway look in her eyes. “Children,” she said. “And grandchildren.”

  “Powerful ones,” Zinnia said.

  Diablo’s nostrils flared. “Others will try to harm my children. That is why gods and goddesses cannot have descendants.”

  Zinnia said nothing. People would try to harm Diablo’s offspring. It happened to everyone’s offspring, gods or otherwise. She could offer no consolation or reassurances otherwise.

  Queenie had already stripped off the hospital gown and was pulling on the sparkly dress provided by Diablo. She and her best friend, whom she would not be reunited with for long if everything went according to plan, began making a plan to draw the other queen away from the king so they could convince her to make the switch.

  Zinnia turned back to her coworkers, who were all watching with big eyes.

  “Everything’s taken care of,” Zinnia said. “Why do I feel like I’m forgetting something?” She felt a scratch inside her brain, like the needle on a record player scratching. She whipped her head around, her gaze landing on the statue of Margaret. The witch’s stone arms were still raised in a victory long forgotten.

  “Oh, Margaret,” Zinnia said. “I didn’t forget about you!” It wasn’t true. She had forgotten about Margaret momentarily, but she told herself she would have remembered before the elevator doors had closed.

  The statue of Margaret was quite useful for holding the elevator doors open while everyone said their goodbyes.

  Zinnia carefully removed the magic key from the elevator’s control panel and gave it to Queen Beth, who would soon return to Earth and be known as Queenie. To everyone’s relief, the queen had been happy to trade positions with the more experienced version of herself.

  Zinnia said, “Take this key with you to 1955, and keep it close. When it’s time, y
ou’ll return to City Hall, where you’ll use the key to open the connection.”

  Gavin interjected, “Doesn’t she need chameleon potion?”

  “No,” Zinnia said. “This is no longer the duplicate key. It’s now the original.”

  “What?”

  Zinnia waved at him to never mind. The whole paradox thing was as mystifying as magic itself, but in that moment, with the world’s magic flowing all around her in the air, Zinnia understood the plan completely. All the pieces fit. This exchange was a paradox, the snake eating its own tail, yet it was also real. She’d been blessed to have been a part of it. They all had been.

  She continued explaining the plan to the young queen, who looked worn out from arguing with her molten husband all night.

  “I understand,” the queen said. “But you must think I’m a terrible person, the way I treated all of you.”

  “You have a long life ahead of you,” Zinnia said. “A very long life. I know you will make the most of it.”

  The queen nodded. “I will.”

  Zinnia pointed to her gnome coworker. “Remember the face of that man, Gavin Gorman. When he finally comes for you, that’s when you’ll make the journey. Don’t go through on your own the first time you open the portal, or it might mess everything up.”

  She gave the group a solemn look. “I understand.” She glanced over at the cave opening and the red vista beyond. “I’m going to miss this place.”

  Diablo slung an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll be back before you know it, my queen.” She gave Zinnia a dirty look. “I’m not so sure about what’s going to happen to me, but I’ll be by your side as long as you’ll let me.”

  The elevator dinged. The doors banged against the stone statue of Margaret.

  “Uh oh,” Dawna said. “It never dinged like that before. We’d better get going.”

  “Now,” Zinnia said. “It’s time for all of us to continue.”

  People muttered their goodbyes. The queen and the snake-goddess would leave down the stairs. After a one-minute count, the people in the elevator—Karl, Dawna, Gavin, Zinnia, Xavier, plus the statue of Margaret—would press the button for the ground floor and return to City Hall.

  A figure appeared, silhouetted in the cave opening. It was Queenie, looking regal in her sparkling dress. “Goodbye!” She waved and blew them all kisses. “Enjoy the past, and the future! I know you can’t send a postcard, but please think of me fondly!”

  Zinnia stepped into the elevator with her coworkers.

  They all tugged on the statue of Margaret to get her inside, and then the elevator doors closed.

  A little voice from the back corner said, “Hey! You’re squishing me!”

  Everyone turned around.

  There in the corner was Liza Gilbert, looking annoyed.

  Everyone cried out with relief and hugged her.

  She groaned from the onslaught of hugs. “I’ve been here the whole time. You couldn’t see me or hear me. I guess I was a ghost or something.”

  They pulled away, and everyone started talking at once.

  The elevator dinged, and everyone fell silent.

  The doors opened on a regular floor of City Hall.

  City Hall! Boring white walls and gray commercial carpet! What a relief to not see a red sky or the inside of a cave!

  Someone stood in the hallway, facing the elevator. It was the mayor herself, Paula Paladini, standing with her arms crossed, looking stern in her pinstripe suit.

  “I see you all made it back,” she said coolly.

  Chapter 40

  Mayor Paula Paladini stood behind her desk in her private office on the top floor, where she’d taken the crew from the elevator.

  Paladini looked the same as the last time Zinnia had seen her at the hospital, and the same as she’d looked every time before that. The sixty-something woman had her icy blonde and white hair pulled back in a tight knot. Against her pale skin, her lips were a shocking dark red, and her dark-brown eyes looked nearly black. Her pinstriped pantsuit and crisp, white blouse looked brand-new and freshly pressed. The mayor was wearing flats, as usual, but with her tall, skinny frame, she towered over the group of filthy, tired Permits Department employees. She gave off no scent at all, or perhaps the group simply couldn’t smell her over their own stink.

  “Wheel that statue into the corner,” the mayor said to the employees who were currently using a commercial dolly to wheel in the statue of Margaret Mills with her arms raised triumphantly.

  The trio of employees did as they were told. One of them muttered, “Hey, I know this lady. She works on the ground floor. I left my dog in the car by accident on a hot day, and when I came back, she’d busted my window.”

  Another of the guys said, “I know her, too. She’s a real piece of work.”

  The first one glared at his coworker. “Shut your mouth. This lady saved my dog’s life.”

  The third one asked, “Is that why they made a statue of her? Because she saved a dog’s life?”

  Paladini barked at them, “That’s enough! Leave the statue on the dolly. Just go.”

  The employees nearly tipped over the dolly and Margaret in their hurry to get away from the mayor.

  Once they’d exited, closing the office door behind them, Paladini turned her attention to the group. They were milling aimlessly near the visitor seating area inside the palatial office with its fifth-floor corner views of both the forest and the town of Wisteria. All were still jubilant from their victory and reunion with Liza, yet subdued by the mayor’s intimidating presence.

  “Sit,” Paladini commanded.

  Everyone either took a chair or squeezed onto the sofa. Zinnia sunk into the plush cushion on the end. She remembered what the cleaning lady, Ruth, had said about taking naps in the mayor’s office. No wonder! The comfortable sofa was long and luxurious, hard to resist.

  Paladini began pacing in the space behind her desk. She wrung her hands in a nervous gesture Zinnia hadn’t been expecting. She reminded Zinnia of a parent whose teenager has finally made it home after a break in curfew. Paladini looked nervous, angry, and relieved, all at the same time.

  Paladini barked at the group, “Do you people even know what time it is? Or what day?”

  Zinnia, Karl, Dawna, Gavin, Xavier, and Liza exchanged furtive glances. Nobody spoke up.

  “It’s Friday,” Paladini said. “After Gavin Gorman opened the portal from this side, things started slipping quickly. I was able to put the brakes on by throwing a few control switches, but you did lose a full day.”

  The group made non-verbal surprised noises. The mayor knew about their time-traveling, world-jumping adventures. Zinnia glanced around at the others. They were all making thoughtful, concerned faces.

  “What a mess,” Paladini said. “What a colossal mess.”

  Gavin raised his hand. “There’s no mess anymore,” he said. “We fixed everything.”

  He was about to say more, but Paladini’s nearly black eyes bore into him, and whatever the gnome had been about to utter died in his throat.

  Paladini gave them a forced smile, revealing the black gap between her front teeth. “I know you thought you were helping,” she said, as though trying to convince herself to go easier on them. “You did what seemed right.” She shook her head, paced some more, and muttered, “The key was here for a month and I never saw it.” She wheeled around to face the group. “Where was the key?”

  Everyone looked at Liza.

  Liza gulped. In a hoarse voice, she answered, “It was on my necklace.”

  The mayor nodded. “Touching your skin. That explains it. That explains why the scans didn’t work.”

  Karl piped up. “She didn’t know. Liza Gilbert is a fine employee. She would never intentionally deceive her superiors.”

  The mayor snapped her fingers and pointed at Karl. “That’s enough, troll.”

  Karl’s face reddened.

  Zinnia jumped up from the sofa. “He’s a sprite,” she said.
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  The mayor looked taken aback, blinking at Zinnia before she spoke. “Yes,” she said icily. “I do understand they prefer to be called sprites these days. I’m not a dinosaur. It was a slip of the tongue.”

  Karl said, “Apology accepted.”

  Gavin said, “But she didn’t apol—” He was silenced by Dawna digging her elbow into his side.

  “Not now,” Dawna hissed.

  Zinnia, who was still standing, addressed the mayor on behalf of the group. “With all due respect, Mayor Paladini, we did the best we could, considering the circumstances.”

  The mayor regarded her coolly. “You had no idea what you were doing,” she said.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Dawna said, waving her hand full of busted nails as she struggled to free herself from the sumptuous sofa. “Zinnia does not deserve to get in trouble. If anyone should take the blame, it’s me.”

  Everyone turned to Dawna.

  Dawna said, “You see, it all started because I was being snoopy. I took a note off Gavin’s desk and read it when I shouldn’t have. This is all my fault.”

  “No,” Liza said, the third one to extract herself from the plush sofa. “It’s all my fault. I was the one who had the brilliant idea to stick a key into a hole in the elevator panel. I didn’t even know it was a portal. I thought it was an abandoned floor.” She made a tsk sound and looked down at her filthy toes sticking out of the ends of her strange boot-sandals. “And instead of turning the key over to the authorities, I started going there on my lunch breaks.”

  Gavin asked, “Why did you go there for lunch? Why didn’t you eat with us?”

  Liza glanced over at Zinnia, then at the statue of Margaret. “Long story,” she said.

  “It’s all my fault,” Xavier said, rising from one of the chairs and stepping forward. “Liza, you didn’t want to keep going. It was all me.” He took another step toward the mayor and held out his hands as though expecting to be handcuffed. “I kept bugging her to go because I liked spending time with her. I was being selfish.”

  Gavin, who was still seated, said, “Xavier’s right. It is his fault. He should have told someone.” Gavin gave Xavier a hurt look. “What’s the deal, man? I invited you to my poker game. You didn’t think I’d want to see a secret floor?”