“Well, they measure to find pollution, and we all hope the lack of it,” she answered. “See, Charlie, all these marvelous inventions… well, a lot of them make the air we breathe less clean than what you’re used to. The biggest culprit is the modern combustion engine. The car.”
“Really? There are so many of them now.”
“I know. Most of us want to keep the cars we have so I guess the answer is in technology again—coming up with a cleaner engine.”
He watched the glass change again to a picture of a scandalously clad woman walking in the surf of the ocean. She was near naked! When she kicked her foot and sent the water spraying toward the glass, he involuntarily jerked sideways away from it.
“That’s not live, happening right now,” Suzanne said with a giggle. “That’s a commercial. There’s a difference between what’s happening right now, as in the live news reports, and what’s been taped or filmed some time ago and is shown over and over again.”
“A com-mercial?” How would he ever learn all this?
“See? It’s an advertisement for Ballys, a fitness gym where people work out. This particular advertisement is saying that summer is coming and there’s still time to get in shape.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, excuse me for saying this, but that young woman certainly appears to have a… ah, shape. Is it accepted to show so much of one’s body in this time?”
Watching her smile, he could tell that she didn’t mind all his questions.
“Yes, Charlie, it’s acceptable… even preferable, if you look like her. We’re not quite as puritanical in this time about our bodies.”
“But you don’t dress like that.”
She laughed good-naturedly as she glanced down to her yellow and white robe. “I don’t look like that,” she answered as she eased herself up from the sofa. Placing Matty into the bassinet Charlie had brought downstairs, Suzanne added, “Even before I got pregnant I guess I was never one to prance about in a bikini. Now, I’ll be lucky to get into a one-piece this summer.”
“A one piece?” Bikini? What the hell is that?
“Bathing suit,” she said, rubbing the small of her back. “Right now, I’d just like to get back into the jeans I wore a year ago. Here,” she added, picking up a thin black contraption and holding it out to him. “Press this button and watch what happens.”
He did.
“Point it at the television.”
This time he was astonished as the glass picture changed right before his eyes to people yelling and pushing back chairs as they appeared ready to fight.
“Jerry Springer,” Suzanne muttered. “Push it again.”
The next picture showed a huge yellow bird talking to children.
“Sesame Street. Try it again.”
He did and saw men galloping on horses through desert mountains. He pointed at the picture. “I’ve been there,” he whispered with awe as he leaned closer.
“You have?”
Nodding, he said, “I don’t know if it’s the exact same place, but it certainly looks like a ranch I worked on in Texas.”
“Really? You worked on a ranch? Like a cowboy?”
“For two years. Mitch and… well, someone I knew, and I, we did it together,” he corrected, not wanting even to think about that sonofabitch Mitch Davies. The picture changed to what appeared to be a bunkhouse and he sat, fascinated, as he listened to a conversation between two men discussing how they were planning to steal part of the herd of horses. He glanced up to Suzanne who was still smiling at him. “Should we inform someone of this?”
Her shoulders dropped and her head tilted to the side as her smile widened. “Ah, Charlie, what a sweetie you are. This isn’t real. It’s a show, a movie. Didn’t they have movies in your time?”
“We had black and white moving pictures, but no sound. You could read words on a huge screen, and a small orchestra in a pit up front would play music in the larger theaters. It was nothing like this, Suzanne. How will I ever catch up?” A part of him wondered if he really wanted to. It was as though the future was chasing him and he didn’t know how long he could keep running from it. Raking his fingers through his hair in frustration, he sighed.
“Well, you could use the encyclopedia to look up things you don’t understand, or…” she paused.
“Or?” he asked hopefully, as he glanced up at her.
“Or, we could rent videos… err… movies to watch here at home on the TV.”
“The TV?”
“TV is short for television. See, what I was thinking was, we go to Blockbuster and you could get a sort of crash course pictorial history starting with…” She hesitated “… like For Whom the Bell Tolls. Ernest Hemingway’s novel was made into a movie and it was about World War One. That was around your time period, right?”
“World War One? There was another?”
Nodding, she replied with a tone of sadness, “Since then we’ve had World War Two, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Persian Gulf War—”
“But the war I fought in was supposed to be the war to end all wars. They said it would never happen again…” His stunned words trailed off.
“I’m sorry, Charlie,” she murmured. “A lot has happened since… wait. You were in the first world war?”
Staring at her, he sat in silence for a moment that spanned over seventy-five years. “That was a long time ago, Suzanne,” he said with a sigh, then added, “a time I’d rather not recall.” He looked up above the huge fireplace to the wreath hanging on the wall and beyond it to the ceiling. How he wished his mind would go as blank as the white above him, yet it would not rest. Peace, it seemed, had not come as easily to the world, either.
“I understand, Charlie.”
The sound of her voice gathered him back again. “Are we at war now?”
“Thankfully, no.”
That, he was relieved to hear. Although he had a strong sense of patriotism since he’d come to this great country, for a brief moment he thought he might have to volunteer his life again… and he was honest enough to admit that was not something he wanted to repeat. To him it was a plain and simple fact that war was ugly, no matter what age it took place in, and he had the scars to prove it. Looking back to Suzanne, he breathed deeply and attempted a confident smile. “So, you say I may take a pictorial history course of what I’ve missed then?”
“Sure.” She grinned, then her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Well, in a sense. Much of it is embellished by Hollywood, but some of it is dead-on accurate. You’ll get the basic idea.”
His mind vainly tried to make sense of all the foreign words she was using. “Holly-wood.” He repeated the word slowly as though saying it might give him a better understanding of it. Had he heard it before?
“You know, Hollywood, California. It’s where they make most of the movies.”
“Ah,” he said with a nod, although he knew he wasn’t completely clear on the subject. “Well then, how many blocks must we bust to get these vid-ee-os you speak of?”
Her sympathetic laugh was enough to expose his innocence. “Oh, Charlie, you are so precious,” she said with affection as she sat down beside him. “Please don’t be offended but, sometimes, talking to you is like trying to have a conversation with someone from another planet.” She paused and appeared to reflect before adding, “And yet, it amazes me how much I take for granted.”
He barely heard her comparison. He was too busy hoping the blush around his ears wouldn’t be noticed. Damn. He felt completely ignorant. “Forgive me, Su—”
Startled, he watched as she leaned over to touch his lips gently with her fingertip. In an instant, a part of him felt compelled to repel her advance, but he swallowed his pride and accepted her offering. Another part of him was forced to acknowledge something even more troubling. It was the first time she’d touched him in such an intimate fashion and he was shocked by the turmoil of emotions that ran through his body. She was, after all, a married woman and he was promised to another.
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br /> “Shh, Charles Garrity,” she said with a soft smile, interrupting his chaotic thoughts. “I’m the one who should apologize. I should be more sensitive to your… well, your incredible situation.”
“But that’s just the thing, you see,” he responded, as she pulled back. “I’m not exactly sure what my situation is.” He felt the pent-up frustration inside him mounting to a tremble in his hands, and he tightened his fists. “There are times I almost hope I’m suddenly going to wake up to find this has all been some wild, fantastic dream, and yet…” He gazed at her, hoping to find any semblance of reason and saw compassion in her eyes. “And yet, I’m still here.”
Her eyes changed to an expression of concern. “Are you terribly unhappy here, Charlie?”
He’d only considered his own happiness in the private moments before he fell asleep at night. Keeping himself occupied by helping Suzanne during the past three days had kept his mind from wandering into the images of the past— his life. “Well, no… I’m not terribly unhappy. Sure, there are people and things I miss. But I had a real life… at least, I thought it was real.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t know what’s real any longer. I try not to think about it, for none of it makes sense and, if I dwell on it too much, I fear I may lose my mind entirely.” He looked back at her. “It’s… it’s indescribable, Suzanne. I just can’t explain it.”
“I can only imagine,” she said in a near whisper as she stood up. “And I can partially relate. I’ve certainly had plenty of moments in my life when I’ve wished the absolute insanity of a situation was a dream, especially this last week.” He watched her spin around and push a button on the box with the glass screen. The pictures instantly disappeared and silence enveloped the room. She looked back at him. “But this is no dream, Charlie. It seems we both have quite a dose of reality to deal with and, as incredible as your story is, I believe you. I promised to help you in any way I can. As I’ve said, it’s the least I can do for you—to repay all you’ve done for me.”
“Thank you, Suzanne.” He glanced over to the resting child and added, “We’ll get through this together. Hell, I guess I’ve been in tougher spots in my time.” Reaching out, he tenderly placed his finger under a tiny, curled hand. Although still sleeping, instinctively, the infant clasped his fingertip. Just the sight of this real and fragile life gave him the courage to accept that he truly had a lot of blessings— regardless of the situation.
Over the last three days he had helped Suzanne regain her strength by preparing meals for her and changing Matthew, which he’d discovered was nearly a twenty-four-hour-a-day job. He’d learned how to use the washing machine and had done all the laundry. He’d even pressed his shirts and trousers with an electric iron. He’d swept floors, used an incredible contraption she called a vacuum, and acquainted himself with an appliance that cleaned and dried dishes in a matter of three-quarters of an hour. One thing was sure to him. The industrial age had made way to an age of automation, and he had to confess he found it convenient. Though, to be honest, he wasn’t quite comfortable doing what he’d always considered women’s tasks. He’d cooked and cleaned for himself over the years, but now there was an endless list of chores. No sooner would he feel a sense of triumph that all the laundry was completed, when Matty would soil something else. How did women do it? There were times he felt frustrated, fed up, wanting to run from the house and gulp in fresh air. It dawned on him that it took a great deal of energy and patience to run a home and not feel like a prisoner inside of it. But he’d found a way to escape.
During the afternoons while Suzanne and Matty napped, he’d busied himself outside in the gardens around the porch by tilling earthen beds and pulling weeds. He’d even had a chance to explore the farm a bit and discovered a small barn that housed a miniature tractor. At first glance he thought it might be a child’s toy, but upon further inspection, he saw it had an exposed engine that was nothing like the steam-driven ones he knew. He meant to ask her about that.
Realizing several moments had gone by as he was lost in thought, he turned back to Suzanne. She had remained still and witnessed the scene. Slightly embarrassed, Charles gently withdrew his finger from the infant’s grasp and broke the silence. “What do you do with the small tractor in the barn?”
She looked puzzled. “I don’t have a… Oh!” she said knowingly. “You mean the riding lawn mower.”
Now it was his turn to look puzzled.
“I’m glad you asked that, Charlie.” She made her way back to the sofa and began gathering up the burping towel and other baby paraphernalia. He could tell she was aware of his uneasiness and was going along with his change of subject. “That’s something you might enjoy doing a lot more than all the domestic chores you’ve handled around the house.”
“Really, Suzanne. It’s been no trouble at all,” he lied. Had his thoughts been that transparent?
She smiled at him. “Oh, I’m not complaining, believe me. I’m grateful you’ve done all that you have, but perhaps you need a guy thing to… well, something more masculine.”
He tilted his head in disbelief. Was she implying that his manhood was threatened or had diminished in some way? He looked down at his once calloused hands. They had begun to soften since he’d arrived here and had started helping her.
“What I mean to say is, I’m feeling much stronger now. I can begin to take over the responsibility of keeping up the house and still take care of Matty. You could be a huge help with some of the heavier work outside now that spring is here. Mowing the lawn is one of them.”
“Ah, strumming the grass,” he commented. He was beginning to get the picture.
When she looked puzzled again, he felt somewhat vindicated that he’d assimilated something without her having to explain it as though to a child.
“As you say, mow-ing the lawn.” He grinned then and continued explaining, “When I was in Ireland, we called it ‘strumming’ to cut the grass, although we don’t use such a fine machine. We do it manually, with a long-handled sickle.”
“Oh. It sounded rather musical,” she whispered, bending over to pick up Matty.
“Never let it be said that an Irishman can’t keep rhythm with the earth.”
“Well, I’d say the earth around this place certainly needs an orchestration, maestro. Have at it,” she murmured with a grin as she gently cradled the child to her shoulder.
He rose from the sofa and smiled at her. Suzanne had a good sense of humor and he liked that. “I’m sure it’s no more difficult than driving a car. Shall I get started?”
“No, it’s too late in the day for that now,” she said, and began to leave the room. “Tomorrow morning I’ll show you how to start it and then you can strum to your heart’s content. Right now you’re going to drive the car.” With one hand on the banister, she looked back at him and smiled. “I’ll get Matty changed and wrapped up, then I’ll dress and we’re gettin’ outta here, mister. Enough of this wallowing around, feeling sorry for myself. We’ll all go to the video store. Our first outing. It’s a beautiful afternoon and we’ve been cooped up in this house for days now. I think the drive and fresh air would do us all a world of good. Besides, I need to pick up a few things at the grocery too.”
“That’s a grand idea, Suzanne. I’ll bring the car round.”
“Okay, just give us a bit to get ready,” she said, climbing the stairs.
“Of course.” He watched as the new mother whispered sweetly to the child nestled against her neck and a sense of awe pulled at his gut again. He’d felt it once or twice before when he had handed Matty to her for feeding. In spite of his situation, he was definitely becoming attached to the two of them. Just then her question repeated in his mind. Are you terribly unhappy here, Charlie? When she’d asked him, he’d thought he had answered truthfully. But as her voice echoed through his head again, he wasn’t sure if he had been entirely honest.
He mentally began conjuring images of the life he was sure of—a time when he was truly hap
py. He closed his eyes. There was his betrothed Grace, with their baby in her arms, standing before him and smiling as he showed her the deed to the property where they planned to spend the rest of their lives. He was so proud at that moment. Another memory flashed—his partner Mitch arguing with Suzanne at the door. How he wanted to flog the damnable scoundrel.
Wait! His eyes opened wide. That wasn’t right. He and Grace had never had children. In fact, they hadn’t even shared a moment of union, as propriety required they wait until they were married. Hell, Mitch and Suzanne had never met. How could he be confusing so many details?
He raised his fingers to his temples and began slowly to massage them. Think rationally, he admonished himself. It was obvious to him that somehow his mind was mixing his yesterdays with today and, his whole life was becoming more faint with each day he spent here. Damn, what was happening to him? Was he really beginning to lose his mind? His memories?
The sound of a door closing jarred him out of his self-examination.
“Almost ready, Charlie!” came the shout from upstairs.
“Right,” he called back. Spying the automobile keys on the kitchen counter by the new-fangled telephone, he practically leaped across the room to grab them. Looking down at the flat, shiny metal pieces, he thought again how remarkable the inventions of this future were. He clutched them tightly in his palm and gazed around the house in which he had to admit he was becoming more comfortable with each passing day.
Yet these were places and things and images of a life that wasn’t his. These were the things and lives of others who were not from his time—his life. He had a life. And he knew that was real. Wasn’t it? But then so was this—more real than any dream could possibly be. And if both were real, were there two places that are alive, existing at the same time? Could he find a way to get back to his time? And if he couldn’t, how would he survive and what would he do for the rest of his life in this time? Heaven help him, his head hurt just trying to think about all the possibilities.
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