Fade to Grey

by Ilena Holder

  “Um, you do?” Donna drummed her fingers on the wheel.

  “You’re trying to think how to introduce me, aren’t you?”

  “Yes I am. Are you nervous?”

  “Yes, a little bit. I am just wondering how people are here…in the future.”

  “Basically the same as they’ve always been. They work, they love, they eat, and they fight.”

  Donna smiled at the thought of how little mankind had changed in less than two hundred years. She smiled at Royce. “Let’s go in. We’ll give it our best shot.”

  Royce jumped when Donna touched a button and he heard a loud snap from the side of his door.

  “Sorry. Electric door locks.”

  Royce didn’t know what electric was and he saw no padlock on the door either. Shrugging, he sat still, unsure how to get out of the car.

  “Reach for the handle and pull it towards you.”

  Royce reached for the only thing that could have been the handle and pulled it. The door opened a bit. He pushed it further with his elbow and jumped out. Though he enjoyed the ride, he had to admit it was a bit claustrophobic.

  He and Donna walked up to the house together. When he reached up to knock Donna put her hand on top of his.

  “Be yourself. I don’t think anybody will notice you’re different.”

  “Right-oh,” Royce said, smiling. “I am starting to look forward to this.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Georgina Holtzclaw opened the door with a laugh. Royce found himself being greeted by a busty teenage tiger, complete with whiskers and tail, holding an orange candy bucket.

  “Hello! Who might you be?” she said, seductively popping a sucker in and out of her mouth. Then, seeing Donna behind Royce’s shoulder, her eyes lit up. “Ms Bradenton! I wondered what happened to you!”

  Donna, startled, didn’t know quite what to say. Sometimes saying nothing will get you time to recoup. She figured Georgina would be momentarily startled by the presence of Royce, her apparent date. She was correct. And bringing an unannounced date was not her style either. She had been prompt to answer the party invitation RSVP very clearly, that only she would attend.

  Royce smiled at Georgina. She was a comely lass; buxom in orange stripes and fair haired. Her eyes twinkled behind her black mask. Curling wiry whiskers tickled her cheeks, curving down to touching full pouting lips. He got the impression that she was desperate to act older than her age, which he figured to be around fourteen. Deciding to subtly ignore her, he noticed delicious smells emanating out of the house. Some were heavy and yeasty, as if someone had been baking bread. There were underlying spicy scents. A citrus fragrance floated through the air, light and tantalizing. He wondered where it came from. He remembered that it had been a long time since his last meal and his mouth began watering.

  Donna slipped her hands around his waist, surprising him.

  “Hi, Georgina! I want you to meet Royce,” Donna said. Her hands clasped together in front of his shirt.

  Royce, surprised by her public display of affection, involuntarily tightened his stomach muscles. What was she up to? And why was she acting in this bold manner?

  “Pleased to meet you, Royce.” Georgina slowly and gently offered her gloved hand. Royce shook it in the same manner, half expecting a little palm tickling from the girl, but she wasn’t that brave yet. She was still treading the line between child and woman and neither was quite a comfortable fit to her.

  Donna released her grip on him and took him by the hand. She led him through the door. He thought Georgina was standing a bit too close deliberately, so he would have to squeeze by her. He didn’t think he was mistaken. He had other things to occupy him now. He couldn’t be bothered by a flirtatious teenager.

  The room was lit with candles and mysterious glowing glass globes hanging from the ceiling. He would have liked to have examined them, but something felt strange underfoot. It was the flooring, grass colored, but soft as wool. It was so dense he could feel his feet sinking into it like summer moss along the banks of the Saint Joe River.

  “How do you like our new wall-to-wall, Donna?” Georgina asked.

  “Lovely!” Donna said.

  While Royce would have liked to figure out what the wall-to-wall was, besides the mysterious glowing globes, he hoped they would eat soon. He hoped Donna felt the same way he did.

  “Please, we’ve already set out the buffet table and everyone’s helped themselves. Before we start the parlor games and foolishness, fix yourself a plate,” Georgina said. Royce breathed a sigh of relief. Some food and drink would surely help out his growling stomach. While Donna thanked Georgina, he examined the room some more. The glowing globes certainly lit the place up, more so than candles and oil lamps he was used to. When Georgina finally wiggled away to talk to other guests, Donna took Royce’s hand and led him to the heavily laden table.

  White plates and white cups were arranged in a neat pattern, with clear forks and knives alongside them. Napkins were printed with Jack o’ lanterns. Donna picked up a plate and eating utensils and nodded to Royce to do the same.

  “Get yourself a paper plate,” she said.

  A paper plate? How on earth could an eating plate be made out of paper? Royce wondered. He did as she said. He fingered the plate and was amazed at the dryness and density of it. Thumping the bottom, he had to admit it appeared sturdy enough to hold food. It was much thicker than a card from any deck of cards he had played with. He took up a fork and knife. They were light as a feather! He held one up to the light and looked at it.

  “Is there something wrong with your fork?” Donna asked. “If it is, just throw it away and get another one.”

  Throw away a fork? Who would do that? Forks were meant to be washed and reused. This is certainly a strange place already.

  He took a yeast roll and thought it looked good, though it was exactly the same shape as about a dozen or so others in the basket. Exactly the same shape. Perhaps they were cut out with a metal biscuit cutter. He would have to tell Lilly about this when he got back. He imagined he would have quite a bit to tell her. He continued to follow Donna as she made food selections. He spotted a large clove-studded ham. He loved a good smokehouse ham. The silver platter was full of slices, ruddy red and shiny. There was a gravy boat filled with a raisin sauce. He watched as Donna took a slice and copied her, though he took three, they were sliced so thin. He would have liked to compliment the cook, every slice was uniform and paper thin. They must have used an extremely sharp knife. And it was not cut wholly away from the bone; it spiraled around. A small bowl to the side held mustard, so he took a dollop of that also. All the food looked so good; he took a dab of everything. Cranberries, potato salad, and cabbage with some sort of white dressing and little seeds soon filled his plate to overflowing. He and Donna went and sat on the side of the room, at a small wooden table. Unnoticed by other merry-makers, they began eating.

  “Donna, about this food…” his voice trailed off as he cut the ham with the mysterious clear knife.

  “Yes, isn’t it good?” she replied.

  “Food is food, past or present. Some of the things are oddly shaped, others just as I am used to. Other than that, everything tastes delicious.”

  “Leave some room for dessert,” Donna told him. “I’m sure they have cakes and pies in the kitchen.”

  Royce buttered his roll and took a bite. It was soft and steamy inside, one of the best he’d ever eaten.

  “Do you think we blend in?” Donna asked.

  “Of course! This is a Halloween party and the other guests are wearing costumes. So I am not really sure what the clothing of the future looks like yet,” Royce said. “What do men and women wear?”

  “Let’s see. Women wear pants a lot now. Men still wear suits and ties.”

  “Really? Women wear pants now—and not just for horseback riding? How odd.”

  “Another thing. Men don’t wear hats as much as they used to for some reason. Really we should; then we wouldn�
�t catch head colds so often,” Donna said.

  “How about children?”

  “A lot of children’s clothing stayed about the same. Infants are still dressed in baby clothing. Oh! One thing you’d find interesting is that they can wear paper diapers!” Donna said.

  “Paper! Doesn’t that scratch? And they would be so expensive, wouldn’t they? Don’t they have leaks?” Royce was curious about this oddity. First the paper plates, now paper diapers. Most of the paper he had seen was at the dry goods store to wrap purchases in or letters ladies used to write with. Of course there were newspapers and magazines. At least they found a second use in the outhouse. He puzzled over wrapping a baby’s bottom in brown paper from the merchants around St. Joe.

  “They have plastic liners. It’s all very neat nowadays. But babies still drink from bottles and burp and cut teeth. So those things stayed the same.”

  “Thank heavens,” Royce said. “What is plastic?”

  “I’ll tell you later. It’s been around so long I take it for granted. Old people can wear diapers too,” Donna said as an afterthought.

  “Old people?”

  “Yes, people are living longer, but not necessarily better. Science has lengthened our lives tremendously, but we still age.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “Yes it is. But here’s another thing. Perhaps I shouldn’t shock you with this.”

  “Go ahead. So far, I’ve had a lot of shocks to my system.”

  “They can actually transplant whole organs into people now. Like hearts, kidneys, and lungs.”

  “What? Are you being foolish?”

  “No, we’ll discuss that later.”

  “Please—let me ask you about those glass globes and how they illuminate the room. How do they work?” Royce stared at the one closest to where he was sitting.

  “You run them with electricity – another modern marvel.”

  “Yes, they certainly are a mystery to me. I keep wondering how they don’t set the walls and drapes on fire.”

  “I guess they would be pretty amazing to you,” Donna said. “Now that I think of it, electricity and indoor plumbing are the best things about living here and now.”

  “Indoor plumbing?” Royce looked at her askance.

  “We won’t have to use the outhouse or chamber pot. We have toilets and baths and hot and cold running water right inside every building. I’ll show you before we leave.”

  “So we are leaving after all?” Royce asked.

  “Yes, I feel refreshed now after the food and have settled down a bit mentally. And I don’t feel quite right about asking Mrs. Holtzclaw to put us up for the night. I think I should prepare you for some more facts of modern life. She might question some of your actions, if you know what I mean?”

  All right. I can’t wait!” Royce looked overjoyed. “I’ve been meaning to tell you I need to use the facilities.”

  Soon with their stomachs full, they realized how long a day theirs had been. Donna went and got some coffee from the kitchen and watched while Royce treated himself to Michigan cherry pie and homemade ice cream. She sensed that he was weary.

  “Royce, what do you say we bid our goodnights and hit the road to Chicago?” Donna said.

  “I would be glad to see a good soft bed, Donna,” Royce said, wiping his fork against the side of his paper plate. “What do we do with our plates and cutlery?”

  “Just toss everything in that trash can next to the kitchen door.” Donna was bemused to see Royce’s face. “You don’t know quite what to make of the place, do you?”

  “Throw away our forks and plates? I can see how the paper would be difficult to wash. My cherry pie has seeped into the very fabric of it. But the fork also? Couldn’t it be saved?”

  “No, nowadays some things are more sanitary to use one time and throw away. You’ll see more of these soon.” She took his plate for him and tossed it in the trash. “I’ll say our goodbyes to Mrs. Holtzclaw and say you’re very weary. She’ll understand. Why don’t you head out to the car?”

  Royce stood and thought he would be glad to see this day end. So many questions filled his head; it was almost too much to sift through all the sights and sounds he had experienced in the last eight hours. More oddities probably lay ahead in Chicago.

  * * * *

  Donna engaged cruise control and settled back, enjoying some of the sights of her trip. The strong coffee she had at the end of the party had invigorated her senses. Plus she had Mrs. Holtzclaw’s maid fill a thermos for her if she needed it for her trip back to Chicago. Royce was sound asleep in the back, covered with a blanket she had borrowed from Mrs. Holtzclaw. She could tell he was getting worn down at the party, though it would have killed his ego to have admitted it to her. She also knew his eyesight got worse at dusk and she didn’t want to prolong his discomfort any more than she had to. Glancing at him in the rear-view mirror, she saw that his head was comfortably resting on a pillow and she was pretty sure nothing would have awakened him.

  The ninety minute trip gave her time to think.

  It was fun showing Royce the bathroom before they left. She led him down the hall and into the guest bath at the Holtzclaw’s. They had left a nightlight burning and they also had lit scented pumpkin candles in the room so that it wasn’t in complete darkness. The look on his face was priceless. Quickly, so not to arouse suspicion, she showed him how the toilet worked and the taps on the sink. She left him to his own devices to go back to the living room. He returned a few minutes later, looking at his hands.

  “Donna, the washroom was marvelous! I can see how you missed a place as sumptuous as that living in my time!” He rubbed his hands together. “Soft white paper in little rolls instead of magazines, sweet smelling soap as I’ve never smelled in my life, and towels as fluffy as a cloud!

  I can only imagine what it would be to run a tub of hot water in that huge tub!”

  They laughed about it before they left like two conspirators.

  Watching mile markers pass, she suddenly felt guilty for what she had gotten Royce into. Was she selfish in returning to her time? What about his fears and uncertainties? He wanted her to fix his cataract and perhaps his hip if it was at all possible. Would she be able to do it? What if the surgeries were only marginally successful, or at worse, failed altogether? How would she explain his lack of identity, and the absence of a Social Security number? He could be stuck in her present time in worse shape than he was before. At least when she was in 1865, she knew what was going on at that time, plus what the future held. He didn’t know that. She hoped she was doing the right thing. She didn’t even want to think of the possibilities of future time travel—

  travel that would be necessary to return Royce to his own time.

  Soon, the lights of the Chicago skyline glowed in the distance. Gold of course for the wealthy Gold Coast, Wacker Drive, Lakeshore Drive, and the inimitable downtown skyscrapers, which never failed to take her breath away.

  Traffic was light for that time of night. Donna was lost in her thoughts and truthfully had enjoyed the trip in silence. She disengaged the cruise control as she got into the downtown. The car’s system was so wonderfully synchronized; she never even noticed the slight drop in speed. Royce probably would have enjoyed the cityscapes in the nighttime glow, but she didn’t want to wake him just to look at concrete and steel. Not just yet. There would be plenty of time for that tomorrow.

  Pulling into her connecting parking garage, she took her gate card out to raise the bar. Royce was beginning to stir. As she pulled her car into her spot, she turned on the CD player so he would awaken to some music.

  “Are we here, Donna?”

  “Yes, we’re in Chicago and you slept the entire trip, Royce.” Donna smiled at the thought of how comfortable he probably was.

  “I was dreaming strange dreams of being on a boat on Lake Michigan. There were fish in the water and gentle waves lapping. I was so happy in the dream.” Royce laughed. “Maybe it was something I ate tonig
ht.”

  Turning off the ignition, Donna slumped for a second and sighed. The days’ events were catching up to her now and she felt dogged out. “Yes, perhaps it was. Now, my time traveling friend, let’s go to my apartment. We’ll have time to talk and plan tomorrow.”

  She saw Royce sit up in the back seat and glance around.

  “Where are we, Donna? What is this huge building? Is it a barn for your car?”

  Snapping the door locks, Donna took a quick glance through the windows.

  “It’s a parking garage. Keep your wits about you, this is the big city.” Leaving her car always put her on guard. You couldn’t live in a metropolis without becoming jaded and wary over time. Royce clambered out of the back seat, stretching his arms and legs.

  “Don’t fret. Big cities have always had an element of danger. But I’m with you tonight, Donna. You have nothing to fear.”

  The walk to Donna’s apartment was short. That was one reason she preferred where she lived; she could reach her car quickly. Usually, she was skittish if she came home late, but tonight she had a male escort. Even at midnight, traffic still moved and police sirens screeched their warnings. Something was always happening in the ‘City of Big Shoulders’ and it wasn’t always pretty.

  “I live on the twentieth floor,” she told Royce, studying his expression at the sheer height of her building. Dried leaves and bits of trash blew around their ankles as they stood in the entranceway.

  “Twenty?” He craned his neck. “I’ve never been higher than three floors. How will we get up there?”

  “You’ll see. It’s another miracle—sort of a metal box that goes up and down.”

  They walked into the lobby, past the security desk. Donna nodded at the armed guard.

  “It appears you have quite a bit of crime. This place is armed with a guard, like a bank in the old west!” Royce exclaimed.

  “It’s like you said, Royce, this is a big city. Many people are armed and dangerous. One can’t be careful enough.”

  “Understood. Now, where is the staircase? I guess we’d better get going if we have twenty flights to climb! I’m sure we’ll be winded when we get there.” Royce looked around for a stairway.