Twenty-Seven November 2, 2023
“So, where do we go, exactly?” Bailey asks, undoing her seat belt. She’s dressed more casually today, much like Elsie is, in sweats, a sweater.
“I’m not sure,” Elsie says.
“Departures, maybe?”
But once out of the car, and on searching her surroundings, Elsie sees the old woman, the ghost, standing far off in an undeveloped patch of land past the car rentals at the end of the airport buildings, near a runway. “Over there,” Elsie says to her sister, pointing, but the ghost is already gone.
“Should we drive?” Bailey asks.
“It’s not that far.”
Elsie slides the atlas under her arm and, with Bailey trailing behind, strides across the pavement and leaps over parking lot landscaping towards the ragged field.
There, tall grasses and weeds stir in the breeze.
Dandelion and dead nettle, goldenrod and Queen Anne’s lace, bindweed.
Discarded flight tickets, chocolate bar wrappers.
A single running shoe. A balloon, popped.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Bailey asks, kicking a beer bottle.
“This is the place.”
They both scan the field of weeds, the runway beyond. The wind stirs the grass, messes their hair. Above them, a plane seems to hang, suspended in time, before finally drifting down to land.
“Maybe you’ll be involved in a plane crash,” Bailey says, helpfully.
“I guess I’m about to find out.” Elsie pulls The Pocket Atlas of Nostalgia and Longing out from under her arm and, after the sisters both check to see no one’s watching, Elsie opens the atlas, the door to the ninth house.
The breeze stops, the air suddenly smells of coffee and ink, and she’s no longer standing in the field.
Instead, she’s in an airport bookstore. A new addition to the terminal building, then, built sometime in the future.
Passengers trundle by dragging wheeled bags, wait in line at the gates, buy coffee.
It could be an airport anywhere in her own time, except the people are dressed a little strangely, more flamboyantly. There are a lot of large hats.
“Hello, Elsie.” A familiar voice, behind her.
Elsie turns to find her mother standing there in the bookstore, within the stacks, dressed head to foot in purple, and holding a travel guide. A carry-on bag sits at her feet.
“Mom? Oh, my god! Mom!” Elsie rushes into her arms and hugs her mother as if she’s clinging to a tree to avoid falling off a cliff.
The woman rocks her. “Honey, I’m not Mom. I’m Liz. I’m you.”
Oh! Elsie feels herself losing her grip. Still, she clings. In Liz’s embrace, she smells satsuma orange—her mother’s scent—and she thinks, it’s inevitable: I will become my mother.
When Liz pats her back, nudging her to let go, Elsie steps away and takes a good long look at her future incarnation.
Liz really could be her mother. There’s the same softness in her face and body.
The same shoulder-length, greying waves.
The same intelligent, warm face. But on closer inspection, Elsie sees the differences.
The years have perhaps been kinder to Liz than they were to her mother.
Her forehead is nearly free of lines. She has light crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes.
“Don’t worry. Zander’s fine,” Liz says, as if she knows what Elsie is about to ask. And of course she does.
“He didn’t die when he fell? You found him?”
“Your cry for help woke me. Zander had a broken arm and a bit of a concussion, but other than that, he was fine. In fact, it was the best thing that could have happened for us.”
“How can you possibly say that?”
“I believe it likely saved our marriage. That fall you witnessed propelled both me and Zander to get the help we needed. At the time I was exhausted, overworked, depressed, and so was Zander. The disease was stealing too much from us because we were determined to act like everything was normal, that nothing had changed. But of course it had changed. Zander’s fall spelled that out to us.
He was getting worse. We needed help. So, we got it.
We downsized, bought the one-story ranch in Fernwood so Zander wasn’t dealing with stairs.
Crystal was looking to sell and was open to the idea of living with us, so someone was always around in case Zander needed help.
Later we brought in care aides as needed. ”
“So, he’s okay?”
Her head bobbles. “He has good days and bad days, but yes, he’s okay.”
“You’re looking happier than when I saw you last. But what’s with all the purple?”
Liz pinches her jacket collar. “I’m retired. I can wear whatever I feel like. But how are you?”
Elsie can see from her concerned expression that it’s a genuine question, not just a greeting.
She puts both palms to her face, drags her cheeks down.
“I don’t know. I’m not even sure I know who I am anymore.
” The time-travelling has left her spinning.
And she’s already been so many people over the years: Ellie to her mother, Ziz to Marcus, Elizabeth to her father, Lizard to Bailey.
“I know that feeling,” Liz says. “I felt it many times. Especially when I was you, of course. And now that I’m retired, well, here I am again, asking myself that same question: Who am I?”
“I just moved out on my own, at least, into Crystal’s workshop,” Elsie says.
“I remember. It’s a good space, right on a busy road near downtown. An excellent location for a business.”
“A business?” Elsie hadn’t thought of that, but now she does. The workshop would make a good location, at least until she got a GIS business off the ground and could afford office space.
“Are you saying I start a business in the workshop?”
“Sounds like a good idea, doesn’t it? I know you’re tired of working for Dad.”
“I don’t have the connections to get jobs. The only business owners I know are through him, and they’re all in forestry.”
“Marcus made the offer to introduce you to non-profits, environmental groups, didn’t he?”
“I blew that up.”
“I think you’ll find he’s willing to help you out after all. So is Zander. He’s pretty handy with a hammer, after keeping that old house going all these years. He could build you a partition in the workshop between your office and living space so you can meet clients there.”
“So, Zander and I could still get together?”
“Of course! We did.”
“Have you been happy together?”
“For the most part.”
“For the most part.”
“That’s the best anyone can ever hope for.” Liz takes her hand. “Elsie, don’t give up on love before it’s even begun.”
“But he’ll die young, won’t he?”
“Zander will live a good long life, but maybe not as long as you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Elsie turns to the departures hall, the two streams of humans making their way into and out of the airport. “Everyone leaves,” she says.
“Elsie, we become lovers, spouses, parents, siblings, friends knowing that someday, somehow, through choice, argument, neglect or death, that relationship is going to end. That’s just the way it is.”
But that doesn’t mean Elsie has to like it. “I’ve already messed things up with Zander.”
“And you will again. And again. But you’ll also fix things. Call him. Get to know him. Allow yourself to fall in love. Honestly, Elsie, it’s the greatest adventure you’ll ever go on.”
“Bigger than time-travelling?”
“Yes!”
Elsie looks down at Liz’s carry-on, the travel guide in her hand. “What about you?” she asks. “If being with Zander is such an adventure, why aren’t you travelling with him now?”
Liz’s gaze wanders to the planes outside.
“Travelling is hard for him at this stage. But we could have made it work. It’s just that when I retired, I started to feel a little lost. Like I said, I don’t always know who I am anymore.
” She turns back to Elsie. “Zander warned me that I’d go through something like this as I entered my second Saturn cycle.
And here I am.” Liz gives Elsie another sad smile.
“And here you are, going through your first Saturn cycle. You’ll feel it for years on either side of its return. ”
Years.
“In any case, I need a getaway, and we have the money saved up, so Zander encouraged me to go, take a break. He has the support he needs at home while I’m gone.” Liz holds up the travel guide. “And it’s my birthday today! So, I’m starting my trip.”
“Where to?”
“Everywhere.” Liz’s eyes follow a plane taking off. “Maybe out there I’ll find myself again.”
There’s a mumbled voice over the public address system. “Oh,” Liz says. “That’s my flight.” She hugs Elsie.
“I guess we’ll meet here again,” Elsie says, over Liz’s shoulder. “Only I’ll be on the other side of the mirror, standing there in your shoes. I’ll be you.”
Liz steps back, holding Elsie’s shoulders. “Something to look forward to.” They smile at each other and Liz picks up her bag. “Okay, I’m off!” She starts to leave, then turns. “When you arrive home from this little time-travelling trip of yours, you’ll stop in on Zander.”
“Is that an order?”
“That’s a fact.” Liz gives Elsie a salute with the travel guide and joins the stream of travellers heading for the gates as a final boarding call echoes through the airport.