by Meg Napier
The perfect moment, she decided, was when naïve Roz started looking for her other shoe. With a sinking heart, she saw both shoes at the end of the bed. She was confused. It hadn’t happened this way. Roz had almost been late because she spent so much time searching for the missing shoe.
Had her mere presence altered the course of time? She wasn’t sure.
Naïve Roz tossed away the clothes Ash had set out for her and pulled her nightshirt off.
She had to act quickly.
While young Roz was trying to pull a black shirt over her head, Rosalind dashed across the room, tripped over one of the canvas shoes and grabbed the other one. Not knowing what else to do with it, she tossed it between the bed and wall.
Thunk!
She paused, holding her breath. Her younger self was so preoccupied she didn’t hear anything except the pings of her cell.
It should buy her some time so she could slip the envelope in the trash.
Almost time. She watched naïve Roz’s confusion with the one shoe at the foot of the bed. Waiting until young Roz had her back to her, she crawled out of the space and grabbed the plain envelope from the trash, replacing it with her note.
Now all she had to do was wait. The bees moved from her head to the rest of her body. She was overly charged, like a battery with too much juice.
“Hey, Ash, where’s my other shoe?” Young Roz asked, her voice muffled in the closet.
Rosalind’s breath caught as the bathroom door swung open. The buzzing stopped. It was as though she was seeing Ashley for the first time: the goddess, glowing in the bathroom light. Her silk robe was slightly open, revealing a perfectly toned and tanned body.
She wanted to run her fingers through the long, curly auburn hair.
“You going to join me before you leave?”
“Yes! Go join her. Now!” Rosalind silently screamed.
“I don’t even have time for coffee,” young Roz said. “I can’t find my other shoe.” She held up the blue canvas shoe.
Rosalind wanted to smack her younger self with it. She was certain Ashley did, too.
“Why don’t you forget about your shoe and come join me?” Ash pulled her robe open a little wider.
Had her younger self been paying attention, she would have noticed the way Ashley gently placed her hands on her stomach. The way she carried herself. She would’ve realized Ashley hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol during the entire trip. Not even to toast their anniversary.
She wanted to scream at her younger self. “Pay attention to your wife!”
“I would love to; you know I would, but this is important. Why don’t you come with me, instead?”
“I’m throwing you a peace offering. You should take it,” Ash threw the robe off completely.
“Yes! Take the peace offering, you fool!” Rosalind silently screamed again, her pulse racing.
This was the last time she would ever see her wife. Ever. She wanted to kick the naïve woman staring with apologetic eyes asking for a raincheck the moment her cell pinged again in her hand.
“How many rainchecks now? Enough is enough, Roz,” Ashley put the robe back on, tying it tight at the waist.
Rosalind wanted to untie the robe and beg Ashley to forgive her for her stupidity.
“I know. And I’m sorry. Really. I’m going to be late. I can’t go to the airport barefoot. Ah! Found it!”
“I get my results next week,” Ashley said.
This was the moment when Rosalind desperately wished her younger self had paid more attention. Why couldn’t she have gotten the hint?
“Results? From what? I’m sure you’ll get the promotion.”
“Oh, Roz,” Ash sighed, hugging herself. “Never mind. I’ll tell you about it later.”
She wanted so much to comfort Ashley. She crouched in place and listened, disappointed with her younger self. Would this be her curse, to forever live out this moment? Was this her hell?
“Yes. I would love to hear all about it. I’ll text you when the plane lands.”
“I don’t see why you can’t stay two more nights. That’s all I ask,” Ashley said.
“This is important, Ash. Just as important as your promotion. I think I’ve figured out how to bend spacetime reality.”
“Nothing is more important than your wife. Nothing.” Rosalind whispered. She wanted to step out and reveal herself. Her body refused to move. The bees buzzed painfully now.
She watched Ash throw her hands in exasperation. “Fine. If time travel is possible—”
“I’m not talking about time travel. I’m talking about the possibilities of being able to—”
Ashley crossed the room in four strides and grabbed young Roz’s shoulders.
Future Rosalind closed her eyes, remembering the sensation of those warm, trembling hands. Then the words she kept close to her heart tumbled from Ashley’s seductive lips. The words that bound her to her fate, spurred her to create Little Moirae, found her face-to-face with a NHRB agent, and finally here.
“If what you’re doing does create the ability to time travel, then send me a sign. A simple sign in the next two minutes. Something to let me know all of this is worth it. Proof that you care about us.”
“I’m your sign!” Rosalind wanted to say, but remained silent, trusting her plan.
“What I’m doing is important. You can either come with me or stay here. Either way, I have to leave now.”
Drenched in sweat and barely able to stand, Rosalind watched the moment she’d been waiting for. The do or die moment.
Ashley grabbed the envelope from the wastebasket, her mouth hanging open. “I can’t believe you’d throw this away.”
“It’s trash. I have to go.”
“It’s more than trash. Look at it, Ash,” future Rosalind whispered.
Instead of looking at the envelope, Ashley stared at young Roz, who had her carry-on in one hand and the suitcase with the other. Roz kissed her cheek and mumbled, “Love you,” before dashing out of the room.
Ashley stared at the door, a sob caught in her throat.
Rosalind longed to go to her. Now was her chance. What did any of it matter if she’d never see Ash again?
Ashley collapsed on the edge of the bed. The envelope trembled in her hands. Her green eyes bright with unshed tears. “Oh, Roz. We’re pregnant.” She placed a hand on her stomach and looked down.
Rosalind’s heart stopped beating. She gripped the edge of the partition until her knuckles turned white.
Ashley’s breath caught.
Rosalind smiled as she succumbed to the now deafening pain in her head.
Ashley jumped from the edge of the bed and ran out of the hotel room.
Chapter 14
Keats Drive
Stillwater, OK
12 February 2025
Wednesday 3:00 am
Coyotes yipped in the distance. Rosalind stirred. A sliver of light flashed in her eyes. She groaned. Her legs were tangled in the sheets. The warm air smelled of fresh rain and mesquite wood. Soon she was drifting on clouds again.
The clouds rocked. Little hands shook her awake.
“Mom! Mom! Wake up!”
“Ugh. What time is it?” Rosalind opened her eyes to a bubbly four-year-old. “What are you doing up, little pumpkin?”
The child laughed, “I’m not a pumpkin! I’m Mia!”
“Really? The sun’s not up yet. That must mean Mia turned into a pumpkin,” Rosalind grabbed the child and lifted her to the bed. “Ash, honey, your daughter’s awake.”
“Before sunrise, she’s your daughter!” Ashley pulled the blankets over her head.
Rosalind rolled her eyes. “Looks like it’s just you and me, kiddo. What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”
“No. I’m too excited to sleep!” Mia hopped up and down on the edge of the bed.
Rosalind smiled, “Let’s go to the office and let Mommy sleep. We don’t want her to turn into a monster, do we?”
Mia giggled,
“Mommy won’t turn into a monster.”
“You never know, she might. Did you know she was once a goddess? If she can turn into a human, who knows what else she can turn into?” A pillow smacked her in the face. Rosalind laughed. She rolled over and gave Ash a kiss. “Ewww. She already has monster breath.”
Another smack with the pillow.
Mia giggled.
Rosalind closed the bedroom door and led Mia to the office. It was unusual for Mia to be up before sunrise; she was like her mommy.
“Alright, kiddo, what are you excited about? Dinosaurs? Spaceships? Mermaids? Particles? Quarks?” She eyed the little girl whose hair was turning darker every day.
Mia’s dimples deepened. “Not those. Airplanes! Why can’t we ride one now to see Uncle Alden and Aunt Mia?”
Rosalind tweaked her nose. “Because, silly, airplanes only fly on Fridays. Their wings need rest.”
“That’s not true!” In spite of her doubt, her green eyes were wide.
“Cross my heart,” Rosalind said.
“What fairy tales are you telling her?” Ash came into the room, her hair tousled and still yawning.
Rosalind’s heart felt overflowing. Even with pillow creases in her face, Ashley still looked like a goddess.
“Mommy!” Mia jumped out of her chair and hugged her tight.
“Hey, sweetie. I heard you were too excited to sleep, so I wanted to come in here and make sure your Mom wasn’t telling you stories. Airplanes only flying on Fridays! Psht. Everyone knows the only way to get to Geneva is on a giant bird.”
“A bird?” Mia looked excited. “Really? We get to fly on a bird?”
“Well, in its beak,” she winked.
Rosalind held a hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing.
“Come on, sweetie, I’ll tell you all about it, while I tuck you back in bed,” she gave Rosalind a quick peck. “Ewwww… who tastes like she’s turning into a monster now?”
Rosalind rolled her eyes.
She stayed in the office, her mind already buzzing with ideas. It’d been almost five years since she’d almost made the worst mistake of her life. She still couldn’t believe how much her life had changed after Ash had chased her down the hotel hallway.
She’d been carting the silly bright pink suitcase, trying to catch the Lyft, her mind preoccupied with formulas and ideas. Ashley had shoved the ballet ticket envelope in her hand, changing their lives forever.
After reading the note, Rosalind had dropped everything and stayed at the hotel. They reconnected in ways she’d never realized they’d lost while she was at CERN. She’d even taken a couple more weeks off. It had been a good thing, too, as the strange virus they’d heard snippets about on the news turned out to be a deadly pandemic. Concerned about Ash’s parents, they flew back to Indiahoma and stayed with them for months.
Working remotely, they adjusted to a new normal, becoming closer than ever.
Rosalind even learned to like the Oklahoma heat and found a little house near Oklahoma State University in Stillwater. It was perfect for their little family.
Ashley still blogged in her spare time, but her new full-time job was writing children’s books. She had a special knack for it. Most of their daughter’s bookshelf in the office consisted of Ash’s works.
Rosalind was a highly esteemed physics professor at Oklahoma State University. She’d won several awards and grants for her work with particles and quarks. She never figured out how to bend the spacetime continuum. Glancing at the frame on her wall, she was confident someone had, in a different lifetime.
She popped in a breath mint before turning to her notebook of ideas. She’d had a good one and wanted to write it down before she went back to bed with her wife.
As she wrote, she twisted her wedding ring around and around her forefinger. She was truly the luckiest person in the world.
Ash stood in the doorway and watched her work. Rosalind felt her wife’s eyes on her and turned around.
“Is the pumpkin a little girl again?” Rosalind asked.
“She’s all tucked in. Hopefully, she’ll turn back into a little girl in no time,” Ash said.
“In that case, come here.” She opened her arms and Ashley fell into them.
Roz lifted her wife’s nightshirt and planted tiny kisses on her stomach. “Let’s see what you turn into, my goddess.”
Kicking the door shut, they savored one another until the sun peeked through the blinds, the rays catching the framed envelope above Roz’s desk:
24 February 2024
My Dearest Ash,
This is the sign you asked for. Time travel is real. The future me – the one writing this – knows you’re pregnant. The me leaving the hotel room does not. Do NOT let me leave this hotel! Do whatever it takes to get me to stay. And no matter what happens, always know I love you!
Forever yours, in the past, present, and future,
Roz
Joan’s Journal
Pru Warren
Quarantine: Day 1
Well, hallelujah! Call me a believer. There WAS a Coronavirus god.
I knew this because I had been given a luscious, blond, 6’2” gift named Darren.
Thank you, Corona god!
When I pulled up he was sitting on the front deck of the Heron’s Rest, my parents’ B&B. The sun was like an angelic spotlight on a head of white-gold hair and miles of young, supple skin. Wow. Yum.
“Hey,” he said in a voice designed for purring. “You must be Joan. Your mom and dad said you were coming. Want help with your luggage?”
It had taken me five hours to drive from my (possibly bed-bug-infested) apartment complex in Jersey to the tiny town of Onancock on Virginia’s Eastern Shore and I was looking particularly travel-worn. But he smiled at me and that’s all it took. I forgot I had Corona hair (no highlights in months, hadn’t straightened it in days), and hadn’t reapplied my lipstick before arriving. Who knew I’d be meeting a stud before I even peeled myself off the seat? I had a shameful fast food cup of soda in the drink holder (for the caffeine, of course—never because I had a secret hankering for corn syrup in all its non-nutritious forms).
Didn’t matter. All my flaws ceased to exist. That smile wiped my brain clean.
“That would be great,” I enthused with my biggest aren’t-I-fun smile. “Thanks.”
He slipped the strap of my oversized duffle onto his football-player shoulder (was it insanity to envy a strap?) and began to gather up WalMart bags. “What do you have in all these?”
New Jersey and New York had been in lockdown since the Bronze Age; I felt like Indiana Jones when I hit the WalMart in Salisbury and found—shut my mouth! Toilet paper!
“Only one of you guys is sick so far, but this virus spreads. So I got multiples of everything. Just in case. I have thermometers and pulse-ox readers and Tylenol. I have paper plates and plastic utensils.” He and I began hauling my loot up the stairs to the front door. “I have individual serving sizes of apple juice and apple sauce and Gatorade and all kinds of things we’re going to need if anyone else comes down with the virus.”
Somehow, he found a free hand and pulled the screen door open for me. A gentleman. I was in love.
I kept enthusing. “I even have Mucinex. Mucinex! Do you know how precious that stuff is? You people down here aren’t taking this thing seriously at all.” This last was directed to my mother, who came around the reception desk to wrap me in a tight embrace. “We’re hugging now? What about social distancing?”
“We’re all in this together,” she said, planting a kiss on my forehead. Dad was right behind her.
“Joan-nee,” he shouted as he came through the dining room. “I told you not to come down here!”
“Dad-dee,” I returned in the same cadence, “I told you not to rent any rooms.”
He waved my accusation away. “So we both messed up. You’ve voluntarily entered the House of Infection,” he said, “so I’m hugging who I want.” He wrapped me in a bear hug.
“Your mother and I would have been fine without you.”
“You’re both a million years old. If you get this, I want to be here to help you.”
“A million,” he grumbled. “Barely over 65, both of us, and in perfect health. We’ll be fine. You’ll see. Fourteen days of strict quarantine as we care for Mr. Rubinstein in number three, and now you’re part of it. I see you’ve met Darren.”
Darren and I had dropped our burdens by then. “Not officially. Hi.” We did the Coronavirus dance where we try to decide if we should touch another human, and then he laughed. “We’re all in this together. We’re either going to get it or we’re not.” He wrapped my hand in his far larger one; his grasp was warm, dry, and strong. Worth the infection risk. Well, if my parents were going to be hugging, then I might as well, um, erm, shake hands with beautiful Darren. Yes, please.
“Come on, Darren,” my Dad said. “Help me haul these supplies to the kitchen.” Golden male beauty on the hoof followed Dad through the dining room and Mom whirled to exchange a grimace of appreciation with me. “That’s Darren!” she hissed.
“You couldn’t have warned me?” I hissed back. “I look like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
“Fourteen days, just you and him, sweetie. Well, you and him and the other three guests. And me. And your father. But mostly, just you and him. You can comb your hair later.” She handed me the key to number two. “You’re in your usual. And since we only have four guests, you can have number one for your office, too.”
When my father retired from running a four-star hotel in Washington DC, he and my mother fulfilled their dream. They’d designed and built a six-room bed-and-breakfast on a serene inlet with a separate apartment for themselves. Their latest addition was a darling little honeymoon cottage off to the side. I was happy for them…
…and I repressed the “orphan child” feeling of abandonment when they hadn’t created a room for me, their only daughter. Yes, I was a full-grown woman of… thirty-two (cough), and I had my own apartment. But everyone likes to know they can go home again to lick their wounds, and it wasn’t the same to be assigned a hotel room instead of hiding out in my childhood bed.