Waking in Time

by Angie Stanton

  I sigh, remembering those awful last days, and open the box. Inside I discover old pictures, keepsakes from Grandma’s time at college, a faded birth certificate with a torn corner and names I don’t recognize, a frilly handkerchief, and letters from her mother. I lay them on the bed one by one and then lift out a framed picture of Grandma as a smiling teenager, standing with her parents. I’ve seen the photo many times before on her dresser. It occurs to me that I never asked Grandma about her parents, and now it’s too late. My throat tightens as fresh grief rises inside me.

  The door opens and Jada’s back. “What’s the matter?”

  I wipe away a tear. “Oh, nothing. My mom sent a box of stuff that was my grandma’s.” Jada eyes the contents strewn across my bed.

  “I’m sorry. It must be hard to go through her things.” She perches next to me and looks through the items.

  “It’s awful… but also kind of good, you know?” I gather the clippings and pictures and return them to the box. A picture slips out and drops to the floor.

  Jada picks it up. “Oh my God! You look exactly like your grandma!”

  “Where? Let me see.” I lean over and peer at the black-and-white photo. Smiling back at me is Grandma wearing a wool skirt and sweater, her short hair curled. But that’s not who Jada is looking at. It’s the grinning girl next to Grandma, who really does look just like me. She has my same long, brown hair, but it’s curled under, with the front swirled into a round roll and styled like Grandma’s. My look-alike wears a plaid skirt and a shirt with a rounded collar. An icy cold tingle runs down my spine.

  “You and your grandmother could be twins,” Jada continues, hovering over my shoulder.

  “But that girl’s not my grandma. That is.” I point to my lighter-haired grandmother. “I don’t know who the other girl is.”

  Jada gives me a quizzical look and flips the picture over. “‘Best friends, 1951.’ That could seriously be you. That is freaky!” She shakes her head. “Well, now you know you had a doppelganger back in ancient times.”

  Jada hands back the photo, and I study the face of the girl who eerily resembles me. “Grandma always told me how much she loved college and her friends. But after graduation she moved away and lost touch with everyone.”

  “I hate to interrupt your reminiscing, but don’t you have class soon?” Jada says as she checks the time on her phone.

  “Oh shoot. I’m going to be late for my first physics class!” I slide the lid onto the box and leap out of bed.

  “Physics, pfft. Overachiever!” Jada teases, slipping her laptop into her backpack.

  “Not really. It was the only class left that fit my schedule.”

  After throwing on clothes and quickly brushing my teeth, I grab my lanyard and backpack, then rush through the halls and past the security-locked front doors.

  Outside I hang a left onto Observatory Drive and walk up toward Bascom Hill. The early September sun shines brightly, the lush grass smells fresh with dew, and the lake glistens in the distance. Within minutes, I’m at the top of Bascom Hill, gazing toward the state capitol, majestic at the other end of State Street.

  Inside Bascom Hall, I check my schedule again for the room number, then take a flight of steps to an old lecture hall laid out theater style. Its wooden seats are intricately adorned with iron frames. The floor is an aged, sealed concrete, but the elevated stage is state of the art, with speakers, lighting, and a projection screen. I’m amazed at every turn to see how the university has kept traces of the early years mixed in with modern improvements. Like the present is overlapping history, with some of the edges still showing.

  I find an aisle seat halfway down. About a hundred other students are scattered throughout the room. There is the occasional group of students sitting together, but mostly everyone is staring at their phones. I’m about to text Mom about receiving the hatbox, but the professor enters, so I stash my phone away.

  “Good morning, I’m Professor Jones. Welcome to Quantum Physics. This semester we’ll be studying string theory, quantum chromodynamics, and M theory.”

  I stifle my groan.

  He continues, “If you stick with me, at the end of the semester we’ll even discuss the theory of time travel as written up by Professor Emeritus W. C. Smith.”

  I roll my eyes at the mention of time travel, but at least it sounds interesting. Maybe there’s hope for this class after all.

  “If the name Smith sounds familiar, it may be because of the new physics library that bears Professor Smith’s name, or perhaps because of his groundbreaking work in holographic principle that has made this university a leader in the field of physics. But for now, let’s get started on the basics.”

  * * *

  After class, my head swimming with complicated formulas, I head off to the bookstore in search of a book for my English Lit class. I know the indie bookstore is close, but I’m not exactly sure where. I stop to check my phone in a small pedestrian mall area filled with metal benches, and trees just beginning to change color. Nearby a guy in a navy T-shirt and cargo shorts is taking a picture of a building. A closer look reveals that he is actually focusing in on a dedication plaque on Smith Physics Library—the library my professor just mentioned.

  I step closer to read the plaque.

  “Embrace the impossible, for it will lead you to the answers you seek.” ~W. C. Smith

  “That’s vague,” I say.

  The guy laughs. “Sounds like a philosopher, doesn’t it?” He’s tall, well over six feet, rail thin, and wears his brown hair short.

  “Why are you taking a picture of it?”

  “For my grandpa. He used to work on campus. I thought I’d send him some pictures to cheer him up.”

  “Want me to take a picture of you next to the plaque?”

  “Sure.” He hands me his phone and stands next to it. He points at the plaque and makes a goofy face that makes me laugh. He’s kind of cute, despite his high forehead and prominent nose.

  I take two shots and hand back his phone.

  “Thanks.” He looks at the pictures and smiles. “Gramps is going to love this. He’s a feisty old fella. I like to send him stuff to keep him entertained. He’s not been doing too well lately.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. My grandma died a few weeks ago.” I immediately wish I hadn’t blabbed that personal factoid. It’s probably not what someone with a sick grandparent wants to hear, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

  “I’m sorry. That must be hard.”

  I nod. “Thanks. It is. My grandma went to school here in the fifties.” I glance around at all the campus buildings. “She was so excited when I told her I was coming to Madison.” I wish so badly that I could be sending silly pictures to her too.

  “That must make it even harder.” He shakes his head sympathetically. “By the way, I’m Colton.”

  “Abbi,” I say. “This campus is huge. I’m still trying to find my way around.”

  “Give it time, you’ll master it. I’m in Tripp Hall, by the lake. What about you?”

  “Liz Waters.”

  He smiles. “Hey, we’re practically neighbors. If you need any help, I know campus pretty well.”

  “Actually, I’m trying to find a used bookstore near here.”

  “What’s the address?”

  I show him my phone.

  “It’s the next street over, so you’re close.” He points me in the right direction.

  I tell him thanks and head for the bookstore. Even though I’ve just met a nice guy, I’ve got a weird, uneasy feeling that I can’t put my finger on. Maybe it’s homesickness? Or thinking about Grandma? I try to snap out of it but instead feel myself being pulled into a funk that insists on following me for the rest of the day.

  * * *

  Later that night I still can’t shake the feeling. I’m in college—I should be having t
he time of my life! I stare at my UW calendar and try to imagine Grandma on her first few days here. If only I could call her and talk about it. She always had a knack for cheering me up.

  Plopping down on my bed, I hold the hatbox. What answers did Grandma want me to find? What did she mean when she said she realized who I was? And what exactly did I unknowingly promise her?

  Jada rushes in, tosses her purse onto her desk, then halts when she sees me. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” I shrug, a little embarrassed that every time she walks in I seem to be in bed, sulking.

  “Okay, I see what’s happening, and you are not hiding in here all night. I met a guy at the Union today. He and his friends are having a bonfire out on Picnic Point. And you and I are going.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t feel much like a party tonight.” I shuffle through the pile of old photos.

  “You want to stay here and curl up with your sad memories? Is that what your Grandma would have wanted you to do?”

  A smile sneaks onto my lips. “No.” I realize that I am turning out to be the stick-in-the-mud roommate I was worried about getting.

  “Exactly. You need to get out and have some fun. It’s a gorgeous night. Let’s go.”

  I slowly get up. “All right.”

  “Good girl!” Jada cheers.

  The night is mild, as if September is trying to hang on to summer. We walk the mile or so along the lakeshore, but the walk goes quickly as Jada shares stories from her time on her high school volleyball team and her decision to go into communications. I tell her about my embarrassing attempt to run hurdles in track and how I’m still undecided on a major.

  We pass several dorms with lights glowing from the windows. The massive University Hospital buildings loom in the distance like a small city dropped on the edge of campus. Students fly past on bikes, forcing us to cling to the edge of the paved path.

  Finally we arrive at a stone wall entrance to Picnic Point. “How did you know how to find this place?” I ask. A full moon creates shadows from the trees and brush and offers a welcome bit of light as we take a narrow path through the woods.

  “Dan, that guy I met, told me how to get here,” Jada says, seemingly unaffected by the spooky trail.

  “Are you sure this isn’t one of those pranks they pull on freshmen, luring us into the woods to freak us out?” I say, wishing I had a flashlight.

  “Even if it is, who cares?” she laughs. “It’s a lot better than staying in! Did you know there are Native American effigy mounds around here?”

  “Now you’re telling me the place is haunted?”

  Jada snorts. “Probably. At a campus this old, there’s bound to be tons of interesting history.”

  Pea gravel crunches under our feet, loud above the sound of the chirping cicadas. The path narrows as trees close in around us, and just when I’m ready to chicken out and turn back, it opens back up to a moonlit clearing. I smell the scent of burning wood, reminding me of campfires with Mom and Grandma where I’d roast marshmallows for everyone. Then I hear laughter in the distance.

  “See, I told you it’s real,” Jada says.

  I sigh in relief as a bonfire comes into view, a festive array of flickering flames. A couple dozen students are clustered around a huge bonfire, some sitting on built-in ledges ringing the pit.

  Most carry a red plastic cup, which is either a party cliché or maybe a nod to the Wisconsin Badgers. My first official college party.

  “Hey, I see Dan. Come on.” Jada points and I follow her around the perimeter until she stops in front of a guy with a Badger Hockey T-shirt and a buzz cut.

  “You came,” he calls out and hugs Jada.

  “I told you I would, and I brought my friend Abbi.”

  “Hey, Abbi, how ya doing?”

  “She needs serious cheering up,” Jada answers for me.

  “Let me get you guys a beer,” he says and pumps us each a cup from a half keg in the back of a large wagon.

  “Cheers!” The three of us tap our cups.

  I take a foamy sip and try not to wince as I swallow the bitter liquid. It’s not my first beer… but nearly.

  I check out the area and see that we’re at the end of a long, narrow peninsula. The lake surrounds us on three sides with a spectacular view of the state capitol and downtown. I nudge Jada. “Check out the view.”

  “Isn’t it the most amazing place ever?” she squeals.

  I wonder if Grandma ever came to Picnic Point, but I can’t let myself get all sad again. Not tonight. So I down the nasty beer and go for a refill, hoping campus security doesn’t show up.

  A few beers later, music blasts and the party has exploded in size. I mingle and answer the questions “what’s your major?” and “where are you from?” a dozen times. Jada is laughing with Dan and his friends.

  Some guy named Mitch with thick lips, bushy eyebrows, and no sense of personal space parks himself next to me on the ledge. He launches into the getting-to-know-you routine, and my subtle efforts to brush him off fail.

  “Well, you’re not in Ohio anymore,” he slurs, his hot breath on my face. “Now you’re in Madison. You’re a Badger. You’ve got to be a Badger. You’ve got to give up all that Buckeye crap.”

  “I know, right,” I mumble, just to shut him up, but he keeps blathering on. I focus on the bonfire, where the wood crackles and sparks fly.

  “You’ve got to go to every football game. Please tell me you’ve got season tickets, because if you don’t, I might have to walk away right now.”

  “Actually, I don’t have tickets.” I hope he’ll follow through on his threat to leave. At least the beer is numbing my senses.

  “Unbelievable!” he yells, spilling beer on my sandals and sopping my toes.

  “Hey!” I flick my feet to get rid of the pooling beer, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Well, I’ll have to drum up an extra ticket, and you can come with me. In fact, there’s a game tomorrow…” He moves in closer.

  I lean away. “Really, that’s okay. I’m not much of a football person.”

  “What? Now see. It’s a good thing you met me, because I can fix that.” Mitch puts his meaty hand on my thigh. I shove it off.

  “There you are! I’ve been searching all over for you,” a voice says.

  I glance up and see Colton, the guy I met in front of the physics library. He towers over Mitch.

  “Hi!” I get up quickly but then feel the ground tilt under me. Colton puts his arm around me, and I lean into him, grateful for the escape.

  “I thought you said to meet here at ten,” he says, the light from the bonfire dancing in his brown eyes.

  “I did?”

  “You did,” he lies. “Who’s your friend?”

  I turn to Mitch, who now looks like someone has stolen a ball from him on the playground. “This is Mitch. He likes football. A lot.”

  “How ya doing, Mitch? I’m Colton.”

  “Hey,” Mitch says without enthusiasm. “I gotta get another beer.” He frowns and wobbles off.

  “Thank you! I could not get rid of him.”

  Colton releases me. “Yeah, I noticed. I’ve been watching you for the last ten minutes. I’ve never seen anyone look so uncomfortable.”

  I swat his arm. “You could have come over sooner.” So he was watching me? He is kind of adorable.

  “I thought maybe you liked him.” He smirks.

  “Ew. He’s built like a box, smells like Bengay, and loves to hear himself talk.”

  “Is that what that smell was?” Colton laughs. “So, hey, do you want to get out of here?”

  I’ve had enough party for one night, and he seems pretty trustworthy. “Sure, just let me tell my roommate first.” We push through the crowd until I spot Jada perched on Dan’s lap. “Jada, I’m going to head back. Do you wa
nt to come?” But I can see she’s happy right where she is.

  Jada gives me a meaningful look. “No. I’m good. I’ll go back with Erin and Anna.”

  “Have fun.” I grin, knowing she will, and I return to Colton. “We can go.”

  He leads us out of the growing mass of people. Once we’re away from the crowd, the stillness of the night surrounds us like a dark fog as the air cools.

  “Did you have a good time?” he asks.

  “Not especially. I didn’t really even want to come.” I burp and taste beer. “’Scuse me.”

  Colton pretends not to notice, but the corner of his mouth curls. “Then why did you?”

  “Jada made me. She says I needed cheering up. I figured if I drank enough, I’d get happier.”

  “And why did you need cheering up?”

  I hate to be a big downer, but he did ask. “My mom sent me this old hatbox filled with stuff from my grandma. Seeing her things made me sad.”

  He gestures to a bench just off the path, overlooking a view of the city, and we sit. “I can see how that would bum you out, but would you prefer she hadn’t given them to you?”

  I shrug. “I guess it’s all still so fresh.” I pause for a minute, then say, “I thought coming to Madison would be a fresh start, get my mind off everything. But… I just have this nagging feeling. It’s weird, but it’s almost like I forgot something, or, I don’t know, left my flatiron on or something. Does that make any sense?”

  Colton looks at me kindly, and my skin tingles. “Sounds like a bad case of freshman nerves, that’s all,” he says. “Things will fall into place for you here, you’ll see. Give it time.”

  I gaze into his eyes, so dark and mysterious in the moonlight. Apparently the beer has really relaxed me, because before I realize what I’m doing, I ask him, “Are you going to kiss me?”

  Colton smiles and leans in. Suddenly a group of guys bursts onto the path and spot us on the bench. We spring apart before we’ve even touched.