Undercurrents in Time

by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

  Milt silently watched her leave the house in a v-neck sweater. She hadn’t even taken a jacket. He realized this and tried to run it out to her, but the car was moving swiftly and had already turned out of the driveway. She was looking straight ahead and did not see him in the driveway at all.

  Once at the store again, Tabitha’s eyes darted all around her, watching for the potato woman. She was ready for an altercation. There were questions and accusations she wanted to hurl at the woman. But Ellie was nowhere to be found. It was an uneventful trip to the baby aisle and the checkout counter. No angry customers, either.

  On the way out of the parking lot, Tabitha saw a man and a woman standing on the corner with cardboard signs. The woman had stringy long hair the color of dust. She wore a long skirt and a dirty shirt. There were lines etched into her face, and her eyes seemed faded, not only lacking color but lacking reason.

  Tabitha rolled down her window. She looked like the potato woman again, but much older this time. But how?

  “Ellie?” Tabitha called. “What are you doing here?”

  The woman came up to the window. “What does it look like I’m doing? And who’s Ellie?”

  “Why did you come back? Do you have anything to tell me? Do you have a story for me?”

  “Lady, are you crazy? I didn’t come here for you. I came here because I can’t buy my own groceries. Now, are you gonna help me out or not?”

  This woman could easily be forty years older than the woman Tabitha had seen yesterday. Now, she was looking at Tabitha as if she were the crazy one.

  “I said, are you gonna help out this old woman or not? You seem like somethin’ ain’t right, ma’am.”

  “Yes, I’m alright. Of course, I’m alright.” Tabitha fumbled in her purse and sneezed uncontrollably. There must have been a smell on the woman that set off her allergies.

  “Bless you.”

  “Thank you,” Tabitha said, sneezing again. She handed the woman a five dollar bill and her eyes started watering dramatically. “It’s my allergies. They act up now and then.”

  “Thank you, and God bless,” the woman said.

  “Are you sure you don’t have anything you want to tell me?”

  The woman cackled. “What am I, a fortune teller? Okay, yeah, here’s one: don’t look under the bed tonight. You may see something frightening.” She cackled even louder and stepped away from Tabitha’s car.

  “Happy Y2K!” she called, adding, “But you and I both know it’s just a bunch of nonsense!” She cackled again.

  The driver behind Tabitha was blaring his horn. She had been stopped there quite a while; the light had since turned green and then back to red.

  “Okay!” She shook a fist at the driver. One quick glance around, and she no longer saw the potato woman. Of course, that couldn’t have been her. I’m losing it. She chuckled. Another honk from the car behind her, and she seriously considered getting out. Just for spite, because, of course, he had every reason to be mad.

  She passed the light and found herself completely unsatisfied by the whole transaction with the woman. If she wasn’t the potato woman, then how did they both know the Y2K hysteria was a bunch of nonsense? As if it were some secret shared between them. Why was she acting as if she didn’t know Tabitha this time, but then, mentioning their knowledge of the outcome of Y2K? Thoughts were going in a loop. Tabitha took a U-turn after the next median and headed back. She saw a young boy with an adult standing there, one of them holding a cardboard sign, but the woman who may have been the potato woman was gone.

  Still, Tabitha parked her car anyway to question the boy and the man. Surely, they had to have seen the potato woman. They were just a few steps away from the car.

  “Ma’am! I’m so glad you stopped! I think people don’t even look at the signs anymore,” the younger one exclaimed.

  The sign they held read “Need Help!” Moving closer, Tabitha saw that the other male was not an adult, but a gawky teen wearing a hoodie. He was the one holding the sign. Both of them wore jackets, but they were not sufficient in this cold. Tabitha shivered herself, remembering she had left her jacket on the dining room chair.

  She handed the older boy a dollar and asked, “Have either of you seen the woman who was here a few minutes ago, leaning into my car, talking to me. Long, grayish hair, a long skirt, has a real hatred for potatoes? ”

  “We ain’t seen no woman, just our mom,” the older boy answered. “But we really could use your help, ma’am. I’m not holding this sign to get money anymore. People keep passing by and ignoring us, or throwing stuff out the window. We’re not asking for money, and this pack of crackers ain’t gonna help my mom. No one would come and talk to us. I’m real glad you stopped.”

  Could their mom be Ellie, the potato woman? Where was she? She seemed to recognize that these two kids were here before, but she had thought the older one was an adult, and no, she had not even read the sign. All she had been concerned about was tracking down Ellie, the potato woman.

  “Okay, what do you need?”

  “It’s my mom. I’ll show you.” The younger boy led the way.

  Tabitha followed him back toward a clump of bushes, keeping her distance, surveying the area around her. What was it that her mother had always said to her? ‘Better to be wary than unaware and sorry.’

  Sometimes she thought Mom was right; other times, she knew she could trust her instincts, and there were no red alerts. These were merely some scared children. When they got there, she saw a form lying in a lump of shabby clothes on the ground underneath the bushes.

  “Somethin’s wrong with her,” the younger boy said. “We need a doctor or somethin’, and we don’t know what to do. My brother don’t know what to do even. We took the bus here. It’s getting’ dark. She’s like, unconscience, you know. But she’s breathing. I listened. She just fell out of the blue, don’t know why. We dragged her back here to the shade so she wouldn’t be in the way of the cars. I didn’t want ‘er to get run over. People tend to not look at us, ya’ know.” There was a look of genuine concern and worry on the little boy’s face.

  “Unconscious, you mean,” Tabitha corrected him automatically. When they got closer to her, Tabitha could see that this was not the potato woman. She was much younger, with a short, pixie cut that would have been cute if it wasn’t greasy and dirty. It was the lumpy, shabby clothing that made her appear older. She wore a coat, but it was insufficient in this winter cold, just like the jackets her sons wore. The woman was mumbling. Tabitha forgot her caution. Leaning down, she could detect no smell of alcohol on the woman’s breath. “What’s your mother’s name?” Tabitha asked.

  “Misha. I don’t know what’s wrong. She didn’t eat breakfast; maybe that’s what’s wrong.”

  “Can you get your brother over here, and I need you to come in to the store with me. We need to place a phone call and get some help.” She went in her car and got a bottle of water out.

  “What’s your name?” she asked the older brother.

  “Raul,” he answered.

  “What happened, Raul?”

  “She wasn’t feeling well. That happens sometimes, but she was real shaky and said she was light-headed, then she fell. That’s when she passed out. I tried to run into the store but they shooed me out. I’ve been in there before. They say I’m trouble.” He looked down sheepishly.

  “Okay, Raul. I need you to keep trying to talk to her and tell her to take some of this water, if she can. If she doesn’t wake up, don’t force it, but you need to talk to her, okay?”

  He nodded. He didn’t seem like much of a talker.

  Into the store she went with the young child; Timothy was his name.

  “We need someone to call an ambulance,” she told the first employee she saw.

  “Who is it for?” the young man at the counter asked.

  “This child’s mother is passed out and unresponsive in your parking lot.”

  The cashier
eyed the dirty child.

  In a low voice, Tabitha said, “She doesn’t smell of alcohol. There has to be a health issue. Now, call.”

  The young man, whose name tag read Abraham, turned and picked up the phone.

  “I’ll wait with you until they get here,” she promised Timothy. “Just hold on.” She took the boy’s dirty hand in hers. He looked nervous and worried.

  When Abraham hung up the phone, she asked, “Are they on the way?”

  He nodded and said, “Yes.”

  “Okay, can I use your phone, Abraham? I need to tell my husband I’ll be late.”

  Informing Milt that a woman had passed out at the grocery store and she had to wait with the woman’s children evoked a sympathetic, “Ah” from him. Yes, he understood and he would take care of Peter, who was sleeping at the moment. He offered to come and keep her company, but she refused it because Peter needed to stay at home and not be out in the cool night.

  When the ambulance came, a police car also arrived. Shivering just like the kids were, Tabitha told them what she knew, and Raul filled in the details. A female officer put her coat around Timothy’s shoulders. The children were going to be taken to temporary shelter until their mother was out of the hospital. The youngest was too young to go with his mother, and the oldest felt like he should stay with his brother. It seemed like it was all for the best. Timothy gave her a hug and thanked her. Raul thanked her with a wave of the hand.

  “It’s a good thing you came along when you did. It appears she is hypoglycemic,” the EMT said to Tabitha. “The fall may have caused a concussion. Hopefully, that’s all. Luckily, there is no blood, and there’s not a huge bump on her head. The other officer went in to get a snack to see if that would help her glucose levels. They’ll check out her head at the hospital. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of her. How do you know them?”

  “I don’t. They were just out here holding a sign asking for help. Are they homeless?” she asked.

  “She had an ID in her pocket, with an address on it. Not a very good side of town; I would expect there aren’t many grocery stores there. Who knows, she may actually be living in a shelter or on a friend’s couch.”

  “Is there a way I can reach them and check up on them?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t give you their address. You can call the station and check with me and I can tell you their status. My name is Shawna Sands.”

  “Okay, thank you.” Tabitha watched the ambulance and the cars go, then got into her own car to leave. As she was driving away, Tabitha saw a bedraggled woman on the corner. It looked like Ellie again. She slowed down and saw the woman grin widely. Oh no, you don’t have me this time. You’re not even really there. It wasn’t you I came back for anyway. I was pulled here for a reason.

  Determined not to chase ghosts, Tabitha turned to look straight ahead. She waved with her right hand but did not look back. Chances were, the woman would not even be there if she did.

  Tabitha got home and Milt was stretched out on the bed, making notes in a notebook. Peter was in the swing. Peering through the bedroom door, Milt saw Tabitha set down one canister of formula on the counter.

  “Just one can?” Milt asked. He noticed Tabitha’s eyes looked awfully red.

  “Yeah. I was a little preoccupied.”

  “With what?”

  “Oh, you know, just stuff. Then we had that whole debacle with the street kids and their mom.” Tabitha came into the room and crawled halfway under the bed.

  “Street kids?” Milt sat straight up. “Um, honey, what are you doing?”

  “Yes.” She came out from under the bed. “Street kids. They were on a corner, holding a sign. Look, don’t worry, I’m a big girl. I’ve even been to jail now. Survived that. That’s why I didn’t mention that part to you; I knew you’d make something of it. And now, look at how you’re reacting! I wasn’t going to leave those children alone with the store workers who distrust them and look at them like they’re dirt. The little guy was pretty scared. The store clerk seemed to assume the mother was a drunk. Unreal.”

  Milt did not respond to this. Yes, it brought up a concern in him, but he could sense a feeling of self-satisfaction in her, and he really wanted it to last. He hadn’t seen such a look on her face since she first found out she was pregnant--before all of her worries occurred.

  Tabitha crawled back under the bed.

  “You never told me what you’re doing under there. There’s bound to be dust, you know.”

  Her head was under the bed, with the rest of her poking out, reaching around for something.

  “I’m looking for something.”

  “What would that be?”

  “I’ll know it when I see it.” She came up, as if trying to get air, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

  “You shouldn’t be down there; it looks like your allergies are really bugging you. Do you want me to get it for you?”

  She narrowed her eyes. Then she went under the bed again.

  “Okay, I take that as a no. Really, my feelings aren’t hurt. I’ve got things to do anyway. You know, things I’m working on.” She used to ask him about things he was working on. But what did he expect? There was a little life in their charge. She also seemed to have something else as a priority right now. Or many things. Things he didn’t quite understand and probably didn’t want to.

  She came up from under the bed, mouth wide in a smile, eyes tearing up, holding a deck of cards. “This is it.”

  Milt sat up. “What is it?”

  “It’s what I was supposed to find. Jared’s magic deck of cards. See, this one is weighted, and…” She looked suddenly stricken, holding out a photograph in her hand. It had been in between two of the cards. “This is what I was supposed to find.” In the photograph were Jared and Tabitha, both much younger. It was the same photo she had seen in the electronics store in 2047, when she had used a Matt device to search for information about Jared.

  She added, “I don’t know why I was supposed to find this,” and put her head down.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “She told me not to look under the bed. It’s my fault. This is a false clue. I made her give me advice. Maybe it wasn’t even her.”

  “Honey, this isn’t making sense. Who is ‘she?’ How can I help you?”

  “The woman! The one I saw before I turned around and went back to find those sad looking children.”

  Milt looked at her, dumbfounded.

  She went on. “You can’t help me. I’m sorry. This time you can’t.” She went into the bathroom and closed the door. A few minutes later she came out and got under the covers on the other side of the bed just as Peter started crying.

  She sat up, staring ahead like a mindless zombie.

  “I’ll take care of Peter tonight, Tabitha, don’t you worry.” He patted her on the back.

  Tabitha might have found it condescending, except that she was feeling extremely fatigued. Exhausted, she lay back, thankful for the break. Immediately, she felt a pang of guilt, having been apart from her son for two days, not changing diapers or feeding him. What was he doing at that time? Suspended in a sleep that lasted two days for her, but one minute for him? She didn’t have the answer, and it wasn’t that important, not enough to keep her from drifting into another deep sleep.

  #

  Sunlight. Through the window blinds. Ugh. We need new blinds, she thought. Every morning, that bright light is piercing my eyelids. She turned to the other side of the bed. Milt was scurrying back and forth.

  “Sorry, babe, am I making too much noise? I’m running a little late. Oh, and, just to check again, New Year’s? A yes or a no? I’d like to let them know for sure. People will be talking about it all day. It’s just two days away. So, what do you think?”

  Tabitha opened her eyes and looked at him. Her nose was still a little runny.

  “Geez, I hope you’re not getting sick!” He felt her forehe
ad. “Do you need a Benadryl, dear?”

  “No. Then I’ll never wake up.”

  “Okay, so New Year’s Eve. What are we doing?”

  “Staying here. Please.”

  “You don’t have to be at the gallery?”

  “I, um, I’ll call them today and straighten it out. But my answer is no. No to the party. Let’s just stay in.”

  “Maybe I’ll call for a baby-sitter, anyway,” he said with a provocative raise of his eyebrows.

  “Why bother? It’ll just be like any other night.”

  Milt’s face fell.

  Tabitha didn’t notice; her eyes were closed again.

  “Alright. I’ll let you sleep then. Peter may be waking you soon, though.” Almost as if on cue, Peter started crying.

  “I’d help, but I really have to go, Tabitha.”

  She got up and was on duty. Luckily, there were some chances for napping throughout the day. In fact, she and Peter were both sleeping when Milt got home that night.

  He came in quietly, but after a while, he started rummaging through the kitchen. Luckily, there were left-overs from the night before. He started warming up stew in a stove pot.

  “Tabitha, I’m home. Come on out of there. I’ve got some food warming up. We’ll have dinner.”

  She groggily swung her legs over the bed. It had been a lazy afternoon. She only got up two or three times for Peter’s cries, and he only fussed with her once. It did seem Milt was right about that. Peter loved his mother, and things were going to be just fine between them. Good thing, she thought. That would have been a horrible price to pay for a little getaway.

  “So, I called the gallery, and they’re alright with me not being there for the party. I did make a few calls for them this morning. The party’s all set. They don’t need me. It’ll all go smoothly.”

  “You got some good sleep today?” Milt asked, though it was obvious from the sleep marks on her face and the bedhead.

  “Yes. Peter only required me to get up two or three times. I didn’t do much else after the calls. And I’ll shower right after dinner. I just, yesterday was pretty emotionally taxing. You know, the woman and her kids. It got to me a little.” She didn’t mention that she thought she had seen Ellie.