by T S Wieland
“It’s like a historical fashion show around here. Why does everyone look like they’re dressed up for a time-travel convention?” asked Ally.
“A what?” asked Sem as he glanced back at her over his shoulder.
“The way everyone's dressed. They all look like they’re from random times throughout history.”
“Because they all are from random times throughout history,” replied Sem in a sarcastic voice, his eyes still fixed on the sidewalk ahead.
Ally stared at him, confused.
“What? I think I misheard you,” she asked, shaking her head.
“Everyone here is from different periods in time. Past, present, or future. The only difference is the period you came from.”
“How’s that possible?”
“Each world moves at a different pace through time. Thus, everyone here is from a different time period. Even me.”
Ally was in disbelief, shaking her head trying to wrap her mind around what she was hearing. She was standing among a vast collection of not just artifacts but living people from every time period imaginable. A world she herself dreamed of many times as a child, but never imagined such a place existed. All she could do was laugh to herself in disbelief.
“Just when I thought floating islands were the craziest thing I’d ever seen today, life once again had to prove me wrong. Slow claps for me...” Ally gestured with her hands as if her mind was going to explode.
“Here it is,” said Sem as he stopped out in front of a shop built into the buildings around it. Ally read the sign out front which bore a wood carving of a pair of scissors cutting a piece of cloth.
Timeless Tailoring
Sem opened the shop door. A small bell chimed throughout the shop ahead of him.
Ally stood watching passersby from the front door. A young man with a buzzed haircut and long hair on one side walked by, wearing open-laced shoes and an oddly cut shirt.
Ally laughed to herself. “Yeah, I can see the future fashion trends here too.”
Sem held the door open for Ally as she stepped inside the shop.
Ally entered the store and stared at the dense cavern of clothes, spread out across the shop all neatly folded into stacks resting on shelves and tables around the room. Dresses were hung from the walls and ceiling up and down the two aisles of the shop. Ally could hardly see the back of the store through the thick curtains of tailored fabric.
“Hello!” shouted a familiar voice from the back.
“It’s us, Vila!” yelled Sem as he shut the shop door.
“Did you bring my tray and dishes back?”
Ally looked over at Sem. His face was blank speaking in a quiet voice. “Shit…”
“I heard that,” Vila replied in a motherly tone.
Vila’s footsteps creaked on the wooden floor from the back as she crossed the shop. She pushed an orange dress hanging from the rafters out of the way, making her grand entrance as though she were pushing back a stage curtain. She walked up to greet Sem. Ally quickly remembered the old woman's face from when she had desperately tried—and failed—to hide from her.
Vila approached Sem and scrunched the wrinkles on her forehead into a scowl.
“Do you really use that kind of language around women?” she asked.
“Sometimes,” he replied with a smug grin. Vila reached up and smacked him across the top of the head with the backside of her hand. Sem moved back from her trying to avoid another blow as he put his hands up laughing.
“Shame. I figured you would have been taught better than that.”
“You’d know. You taught me.”
Vila’s jaw dropped. She raised her hand up again and she shook her head. Sem stepped back away from her and hid behind the brown trench coat hanging at his side.
Vila lowered her hand and looked over at Ally.
“You’ll have to excuse his manners, dear. I’m Vila by the way.”
“Ally. Pleased to meet you,” replied Ally, extending her hand to shake hands.
“Glad to see the boys at least gave you something more suitable to wear, rather than that dastardly sheet,” Vila replied shaking Ally’s hand.
Ally’s cheeks flared a bright red with embarrassment. Vila snickered jokingly.
“Now let's get you all dressed up with a new set of clothes, shall we?” Vila turned around and made her way back to her desk. She reached down and grabbed her tape measure off the shop counter, then walked back over to Ally and Sem.
“You got the time around here?” asked Sem.
“Check the clock over the counter. Are you not sticking around?” Vila replied as she unraveled the measuring tape.
“No, I should probably leave before I walk out with bruises. I have to meet Merek back at the house soon. We’re doing another test on the ARC today using the new equation we worked up. For both Otto and my sake, I hope it works. Would you mind bringing her back when you’re done?”
“Absolutely. But for my own peace of mind, don’t go out there without Otto around, please.”
Ally turned and looked at Sem with a face of distress, afraid of being left alone with someone she had just met. “Wait? You're not staying?”
“No. Vila will watch after you.”
“With two eyes and two ears, love. Arms up,” said Vila. She lifted Ally’s arms up and wrapped the measuring tape around Ally’s waist.
“Thanks, Vila,” replied Sem as he opened the door to the shop again and made his way back out to the street. From the window, Ally watched him hurry onward down the street, seemingly ever eager to get back to work.
“That boy is always in a hurry. Even when he was little, he could hardly sit still even for a moment to eat.” Vila measured Ally’s chest.
Ally stood by, feeling anxious being under the care of someone she hardly knew, who was now measuring every inch of her from head to toe.
“So, I’m assuming Ally is short for Allison?”
“Yeah, actually,” said Ally, watching Vila measure the length of her arms.
“What a lovely name. A friend of mine, Lucy, had a daughter named Allison back home. Such a sweet girl.”
Ally laughed awkwardly to herself, still feeling out of place as Vila measured her legs. Vila hesitated for a moment lowering her measuring tape.
“Hmm, that’s rather odd,” murmured Vila thinking to herself.
“What is it?” asked Ally, expecting a rather dreadful answer.
“Oh it’s, Nothing, dear. A coincidence is all. Your measurements just match those of someone I used to know,” said Vila as she stood up. “Makes things easier in that case. Now, let's see what I might have in your size.”
Vila turned around and began wandering through the stacks of clothes, checking each pile.
“Do you make all these yourself?” asked Ally, desperate to keep the conversation going to avoid the awkward silence.
“Why, yes. I was a seamstress back home before I arrived here. Lucky for me, lots of people needed clothes, and I love to make them. I also create clothing for Sem whenever he goes out on his more eventful rescues.”
“They all look lovely.”
“Why, thank you! I love it when people compliment my work. Can’t have everyone running through town naked as the day they were born,” said Vila as she stood upright and looked around the shop. “Now, I believe I may have a stack somewhere around here just your size.”
Vila wandered back into the vine filled jungle of clothing while Ally remained standing at the front, hands at her side, feeling relieved to no longer be under scrutiny. “What did you do, dear?”
“Uh, I’m . . . well, I was an editorial assistant for a publishing company.”
“Wow must be an avid reader than,” replied Vila, seemingly trying to make small talk while she searched the shop towards the back.
“Well, actually, I wanted to be a journalist and travel, but…”
Ally began to feel the inner walls she had built to contain her emotions starting to crumble. The thoughts of
home, her dreams for her future, and memories of her family chipped away at her piece by piece. She remembered the moment she had first told her dad she was going to go to college to be a journalist.
The two of them were standing out in the garage, as always, far away from the opinions and judgments of her mother. Her dad had finished replacing the timing belt on the gray truck he’d just bought, and the two of them were eager to find out if it worked.
“Hey, Dad?” asked a young eighteen-year-old Ally, sitting in the front seat of the truck they were working on. Her hands covered in grease and dirt, which was now smeared down her nice school clothes.
“Yeah, Spark?” Ally’s father replied with his head under the hood.
Ally propped her feet up on the steering wheel, twisting the broken throttle valve that her dad had removed from the engine in her hands. “I’ve been meaning to tell you… I guess more like talk to you about something important.”
Ally’s dad grunted as he tried to tighten the last bolts on the fuel rail. She could hear him working and wondered if now was the best time to talk. She had been avoiding speaking with him about her going away for several weeks now, trying to avoid the idea of leaving home all together.
“There,” said her father as he stood up and walked around to the side of the truck. His grey and brownish red beard was now black with grease.
“Hopefully those valves are in alignment now and she’ll stop sputtering,” he said, rubbing his hands with an oily rag. “Go ahead and give it a turn, Spark.”
“Dad?” Ally reached forward, ready to turn the key. “I’m thinking of moving to Philadelphia with David.”
Her dad looked at her for a moment, continuing to rub his hands on the oil rag. Ally stared down at the wheel, afraid to look into her father in the eyes. She knew he didn’t like David, and he had every right not to. Her father gestured to her in a circle using his index finger, signaling Ally to try and start the truck.
Ally turned the key in the ignition. The truck sputtered and gasped to life. They could hear the engine struggling to breathe, sounding even worse than before. Ally let go of the key and sat back in the driver’s seat.
Her father threw the rag down on the table next to him in defeat, reminding her of a depressed Doctor Frankenstein.
“Well, that’s disappointing…,” he said. He stepped back over to the truck and stuck his head under the hood again.
Ally opened the driver's door and hopped out.
“Dad, I’m not moving for David.”
“Maybe it’s the plug cables going bad,” her dad grumbled standing up again.
“Dad!”
Ally’s father glanced over at her. She locked eyes with him. “I got accepted out there. I got the letter in the mail a few weeks ago. Mom already knows, but she said I should be the one to tell you.”
“Spark...” Ally’s father looked away from her and down at the floor. She could see his aged eyes trying their best not to think about her departure.
“They have a great writing program out there, so I was thinking of becoming a journalist and traveling once I’m done, like we always talked about.”
“Spark,” he said, walking over to her. Ally fell silent. Her dad stopped at the work bench and started fumbling through the nuts and bolts in an old coffee can. Ally could see he was broken up inside, almost like he wanted to use the bolts to try and fix his breaking heart. “Seems like only yesterday that you had to stand on the stepstool to help me work in this garage.”
Ally chuckled and smiled at him. “Dad . . . come on. Don’t start getting all sappy on me.”
“I still remember the time when you broke your leg trying to skateboard on the creeper.”
Ally laughed. “You’re never gonna let that story die. I was six.”
“Yeah, tell that to your mother. She and I fought all night after we brought you home from the hospital and put you to bed. I had the hardest time convincing her the garage was still safe and you were just goofing around, while she wanted you to never come back in here again.”
Her dad smirked, moving the old, wooden creeper under the work bench with his foot. “Your mom already told me Tuesday.”
Ally snickered. “Course she did… She can’t keep a secret, can she?”
Ally’s father chuckled. “No… No, she cannot.”
Ally’s father planted his palms down on the work bench and bowed his head.
“Spark, I just . . .” Her dad sighed heavily and looked back over at her. “I just don’t want to lose my little girl.”
“Dad, I’m just graduating. I’ll come visit. I just want to get out there and take in the world. Maybe go find some of those adventures you and I cooked up here in the garage.”
“I know, Spark. I just didn’t expect this day to come so soon.”
He waved her over to him. Ally walked over and wrapped her arms around him. Ally’s father did the same, wishing she was still small enough he could hold her in his arms.
“I know, Spark. I can’t hold onto you forever.” He pulled away from her and smiled. “We all need to make our own history, Spark. It’s time for you to go out there and make your own.”
Ally sniffed trying to hold back her tears and hugged him again. Ally’s father kissed her on the top of her head, then rested his chin on her.
“Your mom’s going to have a fit over ruining your school clothes again.”
Ally laughed under her tears, still holding on to her father tightly. “Love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, Spark.”
Ally stood in the clothing shop, feeling weak in the knees. The memory played through her head, eating away at her from the inside. She slid to the floor of the clothing shop along the table behind her, resting back with her knees to her chest. She began to cry quietly in mourning. The small shop filled with the broken sound of her sobs.
“Here, I think these should fit perfectly,” said Vila as she strode back up to the front. She pushed past the curtain of clothes to see Ally now on the floor. Vila placed the stack of clothes on the table next to her gently and sat down next to her. “Are you alright, dear?”
“I’m . . .” Ally struggled to speak over her grief. “I’m . . . I’ll be fine.”
“Oh…Shh…” whispered Vila, draping her arm over Ally’s shoulder. “It’s okay, dear. I know it’s hard. We’ve all lost loved ones. And it never seems to get any easier to move on.”
Ally sniffed trying to stop crying. But as she resisted, her broken spirits dragged her down further into sadness. She leaned over and sobbed into Vila’s wool sweater.
“Shh… Shh… it’s okay,” Vila replied trying to comfort her.
“I used to tell myself when I first arrived here that it’s okay to cry for the people we’ve lost. Life is hard without the ones we love at our side to spur us on. But, hey, you know what?” Vila lifted Ally away from her and stared into her eyes. “In this place, we will always be closer to the people we love. Here, they are always with us, with our homes only one step away, woven into our lives like a single thread. Now it’s up to us to take hold and find our way towards that big, final step.”
Vila pulled one of the shirts down off the shelf above them and handed it to Ally. “Now, wipe your eyes, dear.”
Ally wiped her eyes with the shirt and took a deep breath. She sniffed and cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“It’s only cloth, dear. It’ll wash out. Now let's get you set up with some clothes and back to the house,” Vila replied as she began wandering through the shop.
Chapter 10
Playing with Fire
With a new stack of clothes in hand, Ally and Vila walked back to Sem and Otto’s house. Ally kept her focus on the sidewalk beneath her, her eyes still damp with tears. She had begun rebuilding the walls to hold back her woes once more, though she feared they would undoubtedly crumble all over again.
Ally approached the house with Vila to see Otto’s familiar peppered white-and-brown head of hair standing out
front. His shoulders drooped as he unlocked the door.
“Good timing,” said Vila. Otto turned around to see her and Ally walking up through the garden. “We were just on our way back to drop Miss Allison off.”
Otto worked up a smile, although his eyes told a story of stress and exhaustion. He could see Ally was in a similarly fragile mood, her eyes now puffy and red.
“Just finished up at the Council meeting and was on my way back,” he said.
“Meeting about what?” asked Vila.
“Sem and I put in an appeal for some time away from our research to relax and recharge.”
Vila and Ally walked up to the front porch and stood next to Otto as he opened the front door.
“How did that go?” asked Vila.
Otto shook his head as he held the door for them. “Let’s just say we may have put the first nail in our own coffin.”
“That bad huh?” Vila replied.
“Well, they understand our needs, but let's just say the sympathy they offered was rather minor. Instead of giving us what we wanted, they gave us an ultimatum,” said Otto as he locked the door and took off his jacket to hang up on the coat rack next to him. Frantic footsteps rushed up the stairs from the basement. Ally looked up, expecting to see Sem hurry through the basement doorway, only to be left facing another new, strange face. A bald-headed man emerged from the doorway. His cheeks were framed with thick, dirty-red colored sideburns, and his forehead dripped with sweat.
“Otto, Sem’s in trouble,” said the man frantically.
Otto turned and looked at him with a worried expression. Ally could sense something was very wrong. Otto dropped his jacket on the floor and ran over to him. “Where is he, Merek?”
“He got a call and went in after someone while we were doing the new test, and now the ARC won’t open the doorway for him again,” replied Merek sounding distressed. Otto and Merek turned and bolted back down the stairs quickly.