“Here, let me help.” He took one of the skates, and untied the little, pearly white laces. I couldn’t contain my excitement. He pulled the tongue of the skate up, and held it out for me to slip my foot into. I can still remember the smell—the smell of the little preservatives they put on shoes to make them smell fresh. It still lingers in my mind.
I pushed my foot into the skate. It fit perfectly. For a moment, I felt like Cinderella, on my way to the ball. As my father was preparing the second skate, I suddenly understood the fragility of the moment, something I hadn’t seen before, with my father. I knew he was going to leave again soon.
My smile faded. “Dad,” I spoke softly, “Where do you go?”
My dad looked up at me, his eyes were quiet and thoughtful. I could tell he was searching for the right words.
“Alice, you know I have a lot of work projects,” he said, and looked down at the skate again. “And I hope you know that I really wish I didn’t have to leave,” he chuckled softly, there was something very melancholic about this. “I really don’t want to.”
In my naive young age, I stated very matter-of-factly, “You should quit your job.”
Now my father did laugh, quite genuinely at this remark. “Honey, I would if I could. Believe me.” His tone made me smile, and I pushed my other foot into the second skate. My father laced them up for me, and I watched while Rainbow Brite danced elegantly on the side.
“Here we go!” He lifted me up with both arms, and I stood uneasily on the ground. He wheeled me on to the driveway, still holding both of my hands. Once I had been placed center-wise on the asphalt, my father started to instruct me. “Okay, it’s really easy. You won’t have to worry about falling, since these have four wheels, it’s pretty easy to balance.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m going to take a few steps back, and you just pretend like you’re walking towards me. But you want to glide, with your feet. Like you’re dragging them across the pavement.” He mimicked roller skating, sliding his feet along the concrete, and making grandiose swoops with his arms. I giggled.
“Alright, you’ve got it. And don’t worry about stopping, I’ll catch you. Braking is the hardest part, but we’ll work on that next.” He was so reassuring, and so thoughtful. I watched him stand confidently, arms outstretched to catch me. But he never did.
I began to move my feet, back and forth slowly, just as he had instructed. I started off slowly, at first, and he smiled back, encouragingly. “You’ve got it, Alice, that’s it!”
I started to get braver. I could see my father waiting cautiously, to run towards me the moment I began to fall. But I was doing rather well. The driveway had the faintest downward slope, and I felt my skates start to catch momentum. I smiled enthusiastically, and reached towards my father. I skated straight through him.
My heart jumped into my throat and I suddenly felt nothing but terror, I tried to turn around suddenly to see what on earth could have happened to my father, but I lost my balance at the foot of the driveway where the slope is steepest, and fell towards the pavement, catching myself with the skin of my knees and the palms of my hands. I didn’t feel the pain. I was too horrified.
I rolled over, and saw my father running towards me. But it wasn’t my father. His image was broken, his form crackling back and forth, fuzzing in and out like the static that passes along a television screen. He was like a ghost. Translucent and pulsing. I screamed.
It was the most chilling thing I have ever seen in my entire life. All of the color drained out of my face, and little streaks of blood ran from my battered knees. My father’s face was streaked with concern, and remorse. He continued to move towards me, and I pulled back, screaming. He stopped in the middle of the driveway, examining his arms momentarily, waiting for the pulsing to stop, and his form to become whole again. He knelt next to me on the asphalt, and spoke to me, slowly. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he apologized, telling me how much he loved me, and that it would be okay, and asking me if I was hurt. He told me he was still my father, he was not an apparition.
My mother appeared at the front of the driveway, looking gray. My father’s form had solidified, and stopped flashing in and out. He reached for my hand, and I took it, crying. He carried me into the house.
My mother joined me in the living room. She had a cold washcloth with her, and a little package of bandages and antiseptic. My father was in the kitchen, washing his face. He pressed his hands against the counter, pushing hard against the stone. His shoulders shuddered quietly, and I could hear him weeping softly.
“You saw what happened to your father today?” my mother asked.
I nodded. I still felt very faint. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was happening. My father was a businessman. He went to exotic locations and made deals with luxurious people. He was not a phantom.
But I had to know.
“What’s wrong with Daddy?” I asked.
My mother coughed, looking down at my knee. She slowly peeled the waxed paper off the back of the bandage, and placed it gently over my scrapes. Then she looked back up at me.
“Alice,” she said, “Your father goes places.” She was speaking very softly. “You know, just like Alice in Wonderland, she goes to another world, right?”
I nodded again.
“Well, your father, he goes into another time.”
I frowned. “That’s not real.”
My mother sniffled, “I know, honey. Your father goes back to things that have already happened, places that don’t exist anymore. He could go back to yesterday, or he could go back to when the dinosaurs roamed the earth. But he can’t decide when he leaves.”
“What do you mean, he can’t pick?”
“I mean, your Daddy never knows when he has to go back. When you saw him today, he started to leave. But this time, it didn’t happen. He never knows when it is going to. That’s where he goes when he goes on business trips.” She paused then, staring out the window. “And Alice, you must never tell anyone.”
I was so young, I had no idea what to think. I didn’t have any real conception of time at that age, and no real idea of what it would mean to ‘go back through it’. All I could understand was that my father had vanished. And that whenever he left, he didn’t mean to. I was tired, and deeply frightened. I was also terribly, terribly sad. If this was true, then it meant that I would never know when I would get to see my father. Not that this was any different than it had been, but that left much more uncertainty about whether or not he would return, and what would happen to him.
That evening, I hid the skates in a box underneath my bed. I never touched them again. Rainbow Brite was hidden in darkness. My parents stayed up late, talking. I shrouded myself under my covers and cried.
1997
After my seventh birthday, I never spoke much about my father’s disappearances. For a time, I was in extreme denial about the whole thing. My young mind told me that I had conjured the entire thing up. Time travel wasn’t real, time travel was scary, foreign, and something that you see in movies with crazy scientists and flux capacitors. It was not something that happened to my father, or was in any way involved with my family.
However, the older I became, the more cognizant I became of his excursions, and the reality sank in that he was being transported somewhere. Whether back in time, or into another universe, it didn’t matter. Something was happening, and it was very, very real. The shadow hung over my head like an asp. It was something I waited for and something I feared every moment of every day. And all of this came, because I saw it happen. More, and more.
When I was ten, I woke up in the night to my mother screaming. I ran downstairs to see what was happening. My father was lying naked on the living room floor, bleeding. He had a large gash in his shoulder, and his face was sallow. My mother was crying, and when she tried to touch my father, her hand passed right though him, just as I had on my Rainbow Brite roller skates. His image began to fizzle, crinkling like radio static, a
nd pixelating—his body disappearing and reappearing almost instantaneously, in abrupt little electric waves.
After that, I no longer doubted the reality. And I myself became fearful of falling into another world.
My father drifted in and out. His drifting haunted me. Every time he left, I would sit up, late at night, staring out the window and waiting. He always returned in the same vicinity which he left, which was generally in our house, or somewhere around the backyard. I would shiver, thinking about him crawling through jungles, standing cold in snowy winters, or under the auspices of some heartless king in the Middle Ages, willing to condemn him for trespassing.
And so I tried to distract myself. But it was always in the back of my mind, tugging my stomach, this way and that. I would cringe whenever I saw something move quickly out of the corner of my eye, fearing it would be my father, falling back through time in bits and pieces. And I couldn’t help my fear, just like being near that black box in the closet that I too, would invariably end up on the other side of the gamut sooner or later.
High school was very helpful. Some might find that surprising, as it can be a very distressing time for many young people. But for me, it was an escape. I wasn’t at home, and I was surrounded by so many people who had only heard about time travel in films, or on television. It was refreshing. I felt like it was my safe zone, where I could be whoever I wanted. Where I could be that regular girl next door, with no worries.
Becky was still my best friend. She and I had an awfully good time. We would run like crazy hooligans around the neighborhood, playing harmless pranks, and gossiping about the boys we liked, and the girls we didn’t. When my father was gone, Becky and I would spend time talking with my mother. She would braid our hair, and take us out for ice cream. We called them our ‘ladies’ nights’. I know my mother appreciated our company, just as we did hers. But even as often as my father was gone, Becky never knew the truth. I never tried to tell her, though I thought about it often. This, along with the anguish for my mother’s heartbreak, is my biggest regret.
1997 was my senior year of high school, at Holt High. Becky and I were elated with the planning and prepping for our upcoming senior prom. It meant a lot to both of us. And although Becky never knew the truth, she always understood that I needed a distraction from my home life. We had this unspoken understanding between us. It was almost telepathic—or it felt like it—at times. Becky’s support, and mine for her, was unending. She read my emotions like a book, and though I wanted to divulge my secret to her, she never pushed the issue. Becky would always show up at exactly the right time, to pick me up back on my feet and put a smile on my face.
A couple of weeks before prom, Becky grabbed me outside of her locker after school.
“Alice, you’re giving me a ride home, right?” She had this very conniving, brilliant look painted across her face.
“Of course.” I rolled my eyes, flipping my hair over my shoulder and smiling. I always gave her a ride home.
“Okay, well, we have to finalize our plans. And, we’re still going dress shopping.” She crossed her arms and smirked again, “I canceled on Dan.”
“Perfect,” I said, and we joined arms, smiling and squealing in excitement quietly between ourselves. We couldn’t contain our anticipation.
The other person who meant something in my life at that time was my boyfriend, Brad. He was very smart, handsome, and very fit. I thought he was the love of my life. He was on the soccer team, and would come over at night while I was studying, or I would stay with him on the weekends. We had a very lovely relationship. He had asked me out through a little note hidden in my locker, in the spring of Junior Year. I had never had a serious boyfriend before, and was scared to let anyone get too close. But Brad was very patient, and very thoughtful. He genuinely cared for me—for this there is still a bit of residue of remorse hiding in the cavity of my heart. I know if I had stayed around, I probably would have continued with Brad, quite seriously.
Becky was seeing someone, too. His name was Dan, and he was a bit more adventurous. Or perhaps reckless is the better word. He had a motorcycle, and exceptionally bold hair. He had bright yellow highlights on the top of his head, frosted, it was, and it was always so tied down with hair gel it looked crunchy, like little pasta noodles. Brad had a bowl cut, and whenever he leaned in to kiss me, the little tresses would brush against my face, tickling my forehead. I couldn’t imagine getting close to those crunchy ringlets. But Dan was good to Becky, and he was eerily attractive. We would go on double dates together to the bowling alley, or to the movie theatre, splitting the biggest popcorn we could order.
Becky and I had planned to lose our virginity on the night of Senior Prom. We had pinky swore, just to make it official, but knew neither one of us would back out. As Becky said, we had been waiting long enough already.
Becky and I hopped into my car in the parking lot of Holt High, feeling very adventurous, and very adult, in the naiveté of our youth. I had my father’s hand-me-down Old’s Cutlass, and she took us wherever our hearts desired. I stepped on the gas pedal and took us downtown, to scout for the most perfect prom dresses, for the perfect night.
Becky reached over to the console, turning the radio down so I could hear her. She had a very inquisitive look on her face, and I watched her ruminate momentarily from the corner of my eye.
“So, after we do it, are we officially women?” she said, smiling.
I laughed, “Weren’t we officially women at our first period?”
Becky tossed her head back, her curls dancing over her shoulder, “Well, I clearly was after my first moon party, but not you.” We chuckled together. “But seriously, I don’t know, it’s weird. We’re going to college. We’re going to have sex. I feel like we’re moving onto the next phase of our lives. We’re like real women.”
I wrinkled my nose, giggling, “I don’t think I’ll feel like a real adult woman until I have an apartment and a job, and can do my own laundry.”
Becky smiled, “You’re so lucky you’re going to have me as your roommate in college, otherwise you wouldn’t survive.”
I nodded. She was probably right.
I turned down the quaint little street and parked in front of one of the local wedding boutiques, which was running its yearly prom specials. The display windows were filled to the brim with elegant, headless mannequins adorned in bright, bold colored dresses with large bows and enormous amounts of tulle. I turned the car off, and looked at Becky, more seriously this time.
“Beck, what’s going to happen with you and Dan? Especially, after this? Do you think you’ll stay together through college?”
Becky pursed her lips, and looked out the window. “I love him. Otherwise I wouldn’t be having sex with him. Remember? We promised…” she held up her pinky.
I giggled a little bit and nodded.
Becky started again. “I know you love Brad, too. I can see it when you talk about him. I mean, Dan’s going to go to LCC, so he’ll be close to us. I told you, Mom keeps asking if we’re going to get engaged,” her eyes got really big at this, and I nodded, mimicking the expression, “but as much as I care about him, I think I want to wait. Just to be sure. I definitely don’t want to get married until after college.”
I sighed, wistfully, gazing at the emblazoned frills and frocks in front of us. “I think Brad and I will stay together. I really do.”
Becky smiled again, and leaned over, poking my side. “Alice, Alice! Girl, you got it baadd!”
“Whaaat?! Stop!” I said, laughing. But the truth of the matter was, I really did believe we were going to stay together. My sentiment could not have been more genuine. And Becky knew that.
We crawled out of the car, and cavorted jubilantly into the dress shop. Becky opened the door for me, waving her hand in a grand gesture, “After you, my lady.”
I laughed, and flicked my hand at her, “Oh no, you’re really too kind, you shouldn’t have.”
We walked to the back of the s
tore where all of the prom dresses lingered in an enchanted host. I looked to Becky now, teasing her, “I just can’t believe we made it through four years of high school. And now we are legally adults. We’re getting old.”
Becky facetiously made a very sincere face. “We’d better enjoy the time we have left, we don’t know how much longer we’ll make it.” She threw her hand up in the air, against her forehead, making a faint whimpering noise. We both grabbed our stomachs, giggling amidst the glitter and ruffles. But as the fates had foreseen it, Becky could not have been more spot on. I feel nothing but utter anguish thinking about that moment. Part of me still waits, to this day, for the tides of time to change, and bring me back to her.
We both selected more than a few exquisite dresses, and clambered into one of the larger dressing rooms to try them out. Becky wanted a hot pink dress, and had a wide assortment to choose from. I didn’t have a particular color in mind, but ended up with a number of shades of pink, and one very bright, neon green dress that I was leaning towards impulsively.
We had each wormed our way into the first dress, giggling and trying not to make too much noise so as the attendants would not make us get separate fitting rooms. Suddenly, Becky put both her hands straight out in front of her, signaling for me to freeze.
“Do you hear that?” she said.
I paused for a moment…and the music from the little speakers above the dressing room crept into my ears. Both of us started jumping up and down, the tulle ruffling softly as the dresses billowed with the movement. Our smiles were as big as the bows round our waists, there was no place I would have rather been.
Becky threw her fists into the air. “I love Justin!”
I laughed hard, tossing my head back. “What about Dan!”
“Dan’s not an international superstar hottie! Wait, wait here it comes…”
Infinity's Daughter Page 2