The Archivist

by Christy Sloat

Talking about herself and her issues was the best thing for my mom. She thought this was going to fix us. It wasn’t. No matter what, we would never be good. Not because I didn’t want it, but more because, there was no fixing her. She was stubborn and angry at my dad for leaving. She never forgave me for that. Her issues didn’t need to be mine. But she felt they did. So we met once a month to talk. Nothing ever was resolved. I had come to terms with it.

  She just felt better about herself when Laurell left, but never about me. She never forgave me. Tonight, some things were going to change. I was tired of meeting. I was nineteen years old and I had a life to live.

  “So, what should we discuss tonight?” asked Laurell. She didn’t know about my family or their gift of time travel and she didn’t know the real reason my mother hated me so much. It wasn’t because I gave up debutant or because she was angry at my dad. Laurell was simply paid to do a service and she did the best she could.

  “Let’s talk about why I won’t be back next month, or the following months after that.” I sat down and folded my hands in my lap. I had rehearsed this so many times in my head, but Laurell’s face never looked like it did now.

  “Here come the theatrics. What’s going on in your life that is so important that you can’t come see me once a month? Savannah, you know how important therapy is to me.”

  “To you! Only to you!” I yelled. “It’s your issues that you need to work on, Mother. Not mine. I didn’t leave you, Dad did. I didn’t die, Grandma did. And I didn’t take away your destiny. I am not responsible for the natural order of life. But you hate me because the gift wasn’t passed down to you.”

  Her eyes burned with anger and hatred, but I didn’t let it scare me. Even though I could feel it steaming off of her.

  “What is she talking about?” Laurell asked. We both ignored her.

  “You once told me that it was my biggest responsibility and to take it seriously. But then you hate me for it? That makes no sense.”

  “I don’t hate you,” she said. “I just don’t like you.”

  I scoffed. Not the first time I had heard that before. I was familiar with her dislike for me.

  “Now, Diane, that’s not fair to say to Savannah,” Laurell told her. “I am not sure what the issue is or what this gift is. I am assuming it’s something passed down from your mother?”

  My mother nodded. “Yes. You could say that.”

  It was my gift to travel that made such a wedge between us. Ever since Grandma died, she buried her head in the sand and hated her only daughter. She trained me to be ready for this gift, but when it came, resented me for it.

  Laurell told me she didn’t hate me once and I knew it to be untrue. Hate blazed in her heart for me. She sure didn’t love me. How could you love someone you don’t even like?

  “Not all mothers love their children,” I said to Laurell. “She told me that once you know. It was about a year ago. I had just moved into my new dorm and I called her to talk. She said it to me as if to free herself from her motherly duty. So I stopped calling her for a while. Then she called you. Now on the fifteenth, I’m here to talk about her lack of love for me. I don’t think I need to be present any longer. Diane is the one who needs therapy. I’ve come to terms with it. My mom and dad are both gone. I am lost and I am okay with that.”

  I stood up and paused, waiting for Diane to stop me. She looked away.

  “I… I don’t know what to say, Savannah.” Laurell said honestly. “I can’t make you stay here and I can’t make you do therapy, because you’re saying you don’t need it. I think you’d do well with separate sessions, but if you want to go, I understand. Let me walk you out.” She grabbed her things and looked at Diane. “You can send your bill. We can work on scheduling you twice a month, at my office from now on. I only do house calls for family therapy.”

  The only thing my mom, Diane, said was, “Fine.” She watched us walk out and slammed the door behind us.

  Tuck walked me to the car and I wanted to take him with me, but he was probably the only thing Diane loved, so he stayed. “Bye, good dog.”

  “Savannah, wait a second,” Laurell said, grabbing my arm gently. “I can work with her and her issues. You can have your mom back. Her grief is blocking her ability to have feelings right now. It’s hard for her to deal with loss, that’s apparent. But she does love you. In her way.”

  I smiled at her. She was trying her best. “I appreciate it, Laurell, I really do. But I don’t need her.”

  Getting into my car and driving away from that house was the hardest thing I ever did, but I didn’t regret it one bit. As each tear fell I felt a sense of growth inside me. I stuck up for myself to a woman who never fought for me. I needed to leave this world for a while. I dialed Jessa and told her I needed her.

  ****

  Jessa squeezed me tightly as she met me outside my dorm room. She knew what happened and just knowing that she was there, meant more than anything.

  I roomed with her in our dorm, which was more like a luxury apartment. Her parents had money, obviously, and my grandma left me college money. Thankfully Grandma had a large lump of money she’d set aside for me, because Diane didn’t help me. Grandma also made sure that the Goode’s, Jessa’s parents, were there for me. She made them promise to take good care of me if she ever passed. They let me move in with Jessa and tolerated my strangeness because they loved my Grandma so much. Mrs. Goode once pulled me aside and said, point blank, “It’s because we cared for Genevieve so much that we felt it was possible that you could share a room with our Jessa. If it wasn’t for her, she’d be rooming alone. Or perhaps with that nice Sidney Dolan.”

  Yeah, I wasn’t liked much. But being tolerated was enough for me. Jessa loved me and that’s all that mattered. Besides, her folks didn’t visit much.

  “So, that bad huh?” Jessa asked as she finished getting changed.

  I nodded and sucked down the rest of my soda. When I was fighting with Diane I drank and ate junk. Jessa never chastised me for it but there was a certain look she gave me when I walked in carrying the paraphernalia.

  “Well, let’s go get tacos tonight. I heard Trevor will be there. He switched nights with Clara.” She waggled her eyebrows at me and bumped me with her hip. Trevor had worked at Mexican Taqueria for a few months now for side money. It was now my favorite place to eat.

  Who could resist seeing Trevor? Not me. I changed and brushed my stubborn hair and took out my contacts. Switching to glasses was much better since I cried all the way home. Stupid emotions.

  My orange tabby cat, Freddy Kruger, came running from Jessa’s room and jumped onto my bed. Greeting me for the night before she went to sleep, she ran her body along my black shirt.

  “Great, thanks, Fred.” I pulled it off and she meowed at me, as if apologizing.

  “Wear the teal one,” Jessa suggested. “It brings out your brown eyes.” She always looked so put together and I was the total opposite. Wrinkled and messy and she was pressed and clean-cut. I used to care, but lately, I wasn’t so worried about how I looked. Focusing on Sir Malcolm took up most of my brain function. School wasn’t even top priority, which was why I only had three days of classes this year. The rest of the time, I worked and archived. Jessa’s major was still undecided, but she was content just taking classes until she figured it out for the past two years. She changed majors three times and drove her parent’s nuts. Honestly, I thought she would do something in theatre or even fashion and design, but it took her a long time to come to that realization. I just barely hinted at it a few weeks back and the next day she told me she was changing her major mid-year to theatre.

  I dressed in the teal T-shirt and she nodded. Freddy, curled up on my bed, her spot for the rest of the evening, and we left for tacos. While we drove, I filled her in on the nasty details I missed telling her. She cringed when I told her what
Diane said.

  “Well, one good thing came out of tonight,” she said as she parked her Mercedes in the spot nearest the Mexican Taqueria.

  “What’s that?”

  “Diane will have that one-on-one counseling that you said she needed all along. Too bad it took all of this to get her there.”

  She was right. My mother needed it, and she was getting the help she deserved. I was out and that was all I ever wanted. I wanted to be free and now I was.

  “Yeah, I guess. Now, let’s stuff our faces and regret it in the morning,” I said, pulling her arm. “I’m starving to death.”

  We walked in and took our seats at the cozy little window table we liked so much. We ordered four tacos each and when they arrived, all steamy and hot, we scarfed them down like ravenous sharks. When the waitress dropped the check at our table with two cute little mints, I looked up and spotted Trevor sitting across the restaurant from us. He wasn’t alone, and my heart sank. So much for him working tonight. I tried to see who she was, but it was hard to tell from where I was sitting. I saw she had long blonde hair that curled perfectly at the ends, as opposed to my hair which never held proper curls. She also laughed a lot, another opposite from me. When he reached across the table to tuck her hair behind her ear, I lost it.

  “We need to settle the check and leave. Now.” I stood up and grabbed my backpack from the table and slung it over my shoulder. Jessa gave me a concerned look and slapped down her half of the check. Tears threatened to fill my eyes, but I stopped them. Either that or I had cried out all that I had on the drive home from Diane’s.

  “What in the world is going on with you?” Jessa asked as she looked around the room, trying to see what had upset me.

  “Hey, Savannah!”

  Too late. We had been spotted. Trevor called out to me and I turned his way as he waved, causing his girl to turn to see me. She was drop-dead gorgeous. Of course. Because why would Trevor Arnold want dumpy Savannah? The girl who didn’t stand out in crowds and didn’t turn heads. You know it wasn’t lost on me that I was literally never hit on. No one ever turned their head to check me out. And no one asked me out either. I had one boyfriend and I think it was because he wanted practice kissing someone before he left for college.

  I closed myself off and left the restaurant without waving back. It was unfair, I know this. But being in that situation, I couldn’t wave. I was too sad and too shocked, especially after the day I’d had. I should have known better, really. Did I honestly think that doing his homework for him would get him to like me?

  “Savannah! Wait up!” Jessa called as she chased me down. “Girl, you must slow down. These heels are not made for running.” She gently tugged me back and then pulled me into her arms. “Let it go, girl. Do not let that boy hurt you. You deserve so much—”

  “Gah! Save it, Jessa, okay? Did you ever think that boys like that deserve better than me? Huh?”

  She let go of me and stepped back like I had wounded her. “Don’t ever speak like that again, Savannah Preston! Please don’t say things like that about yourself. It hurts my soul to hear that.”

  I knew it did hurt her, because she loved me. Jessa and I were different people, but we had similar issues with self-esteem. Hers were caused by her parents and mine, well probably the same thing. We just chose to deal with such issues differently.

  “Can we go?” I asked, finally, heading for her car.

  As we drove away I let the hope of ever being with someone like Trevor Arnold go. I realized he did use me to do his homework. A real friend would have got up and come outside after I left. Or at least called me to see if I was all right. Instead I saw him kissing his girl across the table as if nothing ever happened.

  Five

  I woke up covered in sweat and panting like a lunatic. I dreamt I was running through the heather in the fields of Scotland, but I wasn’t running alone. The companion beside me was faceless, only because I couldn’t make out who it was, but there was no mistaking he was a male. He smelled of smoke and wood and I remember feeling elated as he reached out to grab my hand. His fingers were rough and his palms calloused yet I didn’t mind the roughness of them. Once we crossed the stream our hands broke apart and he was thrown away from me. Frantically searching for him, I ran through the darkest part of the wood, to no avail. My running partner was gone.

  I glanced at the time and saw 4:44 a.m. on my cell phone. After the intensity of the dream I was definitely awake. I swung my legs off the bed, careful not to disturb Fred from her kitty slumber, and walked quietly to the kitchen. After I brewed my coffee, I dressed quietly into some comfortable clothes and my glasses. My eyes were too swollen for contacts today. The need to escape for a little while itched at me. I scratched Fred on her head and left Jessa alone while she got her beauty sleep.

  The perfect place for a getaway on the weekend was the campus library; nobody but diehard students would be there. It would be quiet and peaceful. Thankfully traffic was dull at this hour and I got there quickly.

  As I entered the library it was just as I thought it would be. The loudest sound was the air-conditioning blowing into the vents above my head as I climbed the stairs to the main entryway. The windows spanned the whole library from top to bottom, letting in tons of natural light. Floors with a colorful pattern brought a certain pop to the old building. The college recently overhauled the library, giving it a more unique and young feel. They added some cool features, like an upstairs studying section that was sound proof and had comfortable white leather chairs and couches. Some students did more than just studying in there, but I wasn’t ever one of those people. Jessa on the other hand might have a few stories to share with me about it, but I hardly ever asked her.

  I waved to the aid at the desk and headed up the stairs to my favorite section where all the readers would be. They kept to themselves and I could read in peace and quiet. I grabbed a fantasy novel and a soda from the machine and headed to the nearest empty couch.

  When I noticed Trevor standing by his new flavor of the week, I halted. He leaned over her as she typed furiously on her laptop. I could see them from behind, and I got a glance at what she was working on. It was a paper on American History, which was his class. Easing a tad closer, I saw it had his name at the top. God! She was doing his homework, too? What was I thinking liking this guy? I was wasting my time and energy on a user, once again.

  Avoiding seeing him and making a spectacle like I did last night forced me to retreat to the basement. I couldn’t walk fast enough. My room was a shelter from the sadness and reminder of how different I was here at this school. At least in here I was who I was meant to be. I wasn’t Savannah the lost girl, I was the traveler, the archivist. The girl with a destiny to record history. If people really knew what I did, I wondered how they would treat me then. Would teachers still ignore my raised hand as often? Would guys notice me or want to date me? Closing the door behind me helped me to block out the bad thoughts.

  I cracked open the book and sniffed it. Sniffing books was so satisfying and albeit weird, but if you were a book lover, you did it. Sitting back and getting comfortable I began reading the first page. It was hard not to travel through a book when I read it. It was entirely possible to travel through books that were fiction, once I started my duty as a Librarian. When I did, it felt like the book was now a movie playing live just for me. Everything was in front of me, close enough to touch, but you knew you shouldn’t. I didn’t care for it that way, so I usually removed my bracelet and read, the old-fashioned way. But today, I kept it on to practice my skills at reading without moving through the book. That required more focus, but it was important to learn.

  A few minutes into the book I heard a sound that made me stop reading and listen. It sounded like music, but there was no music down here, and with the thick flooring above me it was impossible to hear anything from the library.

 
There it was again, faint but still loud enough for me to pick up on. Listening carefully, I realized it was bagpipes. I put the book down and got up to investigate the sound. It wasn’t coming from outside, so I stopped and listened with my eyes closed. It was in the room somewhere. Not my cell phone, I had checked that. When I got close to where we hid the book I was currently traveling through, the sound got louder and louder. I pulled it free from its hiding spot and it was vibrating with the sound of Scottish bagpipes playing a melodious tune.

  Absentmindedly opening the book, I turned to the page I was last on, to see what the devil was going on. Before I knew it, I was being pulled into the book, even as I tried to hold onto the present time, I realized it was hopeless. I was going in whether I wanted to or not.

  I blinked to clear my eyes from the tears that blurred my vision. I had lost control of my surroundings and for some reason, I was face down in the foulest smelling room. The tears were not those of sadness, but rather from pain and stench. I pushed my arms up, hoping to rise, but my back screamed in pain. I tried to imagine what could have happened between the time I was in the library and now, but I came up blank. I had lost time and was completely confused, which was not usual for me. I turned my face and looked around to see where I was, but it was dark. I fumbled for my glasses and found them underneath me, still intact, or so it seemed in the dark room. Leaning on my other senses, I used my hands to feel around me. The ground was solid dirt with some straw. My hands felt something squishy and hot, and I knew instantly that it was horse droppings. I gagged and rolled my body away from it and came face to face with a mare. She blew her nose at me and neighed.

  “Gee, thanks,” I told her. At least now I knew where I was and who was around me. I wasn’t in the dungeons at least. Being surrounded by horses was better than coming here unexpectedly and having to explain my current attire to an unsuspecting maid.