I wasn't sure why I re-enacted my conversation with Eric for Sophie, Laura and Kaitlin, but I immediately regretted it afterward. We were all hanging out in the den at my mom's house. There was a movie playing on the TV that nobody was paying attention to and we were washing down barbeque potato chips with Diet Coke.
Kaitlin split her time between us, her girlfriend Chloe, and her YouTube followers. She had curly blonde hair and blue eyes, played the piano and guitar and wrote songs that were sweet and steeped in nostalgia. She was basically a young Taylor Swift.
"So why didn't you just tell someone you had to go let Tommy out?" Kaitlin asked, not looking up from her phone.
"Hey!" Sophie said sharply, "Are you paying attention at all? She didn't have to go home, she left with some guy."
"Oh! Who?" Her blue eyes were wide.
I slowly shook my head.
"Come on, he can't be that bad," Laura urged politely.
"Said the girl who eye bangs every guy with a pulse," Sophie teased.
Of course any guy who'd be with me had to be equally embarrassing. My appearance and presence could both be primarily described as awkward. My hair was a wavy, untamed mess in a shade that might have been called "ash" something if it was on a box. Ash light brown. Ash dark blonde. Looks like ash. My wardrobe consisted almost entirely of thrifted t-shirts and cardigan sweaters, leggings and jeans. I made my torso a home for sad t-shirts that the Salvation Army would never sell otherwise, that said things like, "The Snodgrass Family Reunion 2012" and "New Baltimore Jingle Bell 5K 2010". I probably couldn't even be politely described as having a nice personality. I was usually quiet and reserved and people assumed that meant rude or stuck up.
"It was Garrett, wasn't it?" Kaitlin pried.
Garrett Murphy was my junior homecoming date. He was a tall red-head, kind of cute. We dissected a fetal pig together and he asked me out of the blue when we got to the heart, which was sort of romantic and mildly grotesque. I said yes because nobody had ever asked me to a dance before and he was nice enough. It wasn't true love or anything, but my friends would not stop bringing him up.
"Nope. He's not my type."
"What is your type exactly?" Kaitlin asked.
"I don't know. Process of elimination, I guess. Garrett isn't my type."
"Well, at this rate you'll narrow it down and figure out your type when you're seventy," said Sophie.
"Okay, you're not exactly eliminating tons of types either."
"I don't need to. I've already met my soulmate." She grinned dreamily and sighed. Sophie had been infatuated with my older brother, Jason, for as long as we'd been friends.
"He's four years older than you. He has a girlfriend. He literally doesn't even know your name."
"Facts," Laura confirmed.
"He calls me Zoe as a joke. Eventually, it's going to work out," she said with conviction. I wished I could be that confident about anything. "So for now, Jason can waste his time with that depressing scarf girl, and I'll continue planning our future together."
A few weeks before, Jason brought his girlfriend, Simone, home for a weekend after their semester ended. She had no detectable sense of humor and was always talking about politics and depressing current events. And she freaked out when she caught Tommy playing with one of the scarves that she wore constantly, even with short sleeves, which didn't make any sense to me. She scoffed and "OK Boomer"-ed me when I commented that it was interesting that her neck was cold and her arms were warm. My stepdad made a gross comment when she was out of earshot about how the scarves were probably hiding tons of hickeys and my mom got pissed at him. It was a spectacular weekend.
"What are you guys doing for the fourth of July?" Kaitlin asked. "Chloe has to go up north with her family."
"Thanks for considering us for your back up plan," said Laura. She shook her head and her shiny dark bob swayed back and forth.
"Sorry for wanting a romantic evening to watch fireworks with my girlfriend."
"My mom's grilling, you guys can probably come for dinner and stay over," Sophie offered.
"Is your mom grilling tofu patties or real food?" Laura asked. "You have to eat animals on the fourth of July, it's like, the American way."
"Probably veggie burgers, but she'll buy meat if you come over, my blood-thirsty carnivorous friend."
"I like tofu. So spongy," Kaitlin said absentmindedly as her thumb flitted over the screen of her phone.
~~~~~~
On the fourth of July, the four of us sat side-by-side on a Main Street curb overlooking the waterfront park. The park was crowded with people awaiting the fireworks display on blankets laid out like a giant patchwork quilt. The street was lined with carts selling elephant ears, cotton candy and glow sticks and the air smelled like fried dough dusted with cinnamon and sugar, soured with hints of bug spray. It was one of the few days of the year that the town was buzzing with activity. The heat was finally dissipating as dusk fell and a cool breeze drifted up from the river, which turned a deep charcoal grey as the sun set. I rolled a stone around on the pavement under my rubber flip-flop as I reviewed my plan.
A few days before, I bought a vintage dress at a thrift store. It took a lot of searching, but when I was about to give up I pulled it off the rack and knew it would be perfect. It was sleeveless with a halter neck and full skirt, white with big blue flowers and grayish-green leaves. I thought that since my swimsuit came with me last time, if I wore a dress it should come with me, too, which would solve the major problem of having no clothes.
After I got my first paycheck, I ordered a retro swimsuit online: a navy blue one-piece with white polka dots. When I tried it on, I expected to feel frumpy and old lady-ish, but instead it felt comfortable and kind of sexy, in a less-is-more sort of way. The ruching created an optical illusion of bigger boobs, and unlike my bikini bottom, it was cut so low on my upper thighs that it felt snug and secure.
The next step was figuring out when and how I could swim in the city pool fully clothed without drawing any attention. I'd have to go when it was closed, so I planned to leave Sophie's house in the middle of the night.
But as it got darker and darker, my pulse sped up and soon my heart was beating in my throat. I couldn't wait any longer. Everybody would be watching the fireworks and I could climb the fence quickly. One warning firework hissed into the sky and burst over the dark, shining water. The buzzing noise and energy of the crowd elevated.
"I have to go to the bathroom," I announced as I jumped to my feet.
"Now? They're just about to start. Can't you hold it?" Laura asked.
"What if the noise scares me? I might pee my pants."
"Are you four years old?" Laura teased.
"Or ninety?" asked Kaitlin.
A second warning exploded into a puff of smoke and a cascade of sparkles sizzled down in the dusky sky.
"Go to my house so you don't have to use the nasty porta potties," Sophie suggested.
"Are your mom and Jeremy home?"
"Of course. It's like every other night, except with fireworks instead of TV."
I walked quickly, weaving through the crowd of upturned faces reflecting the red, blue, and green flashes. As I turned up a side street the crowd thinned and I passed kids waving sparklers and cracking poppers on the sidewalk. The scent of smoldering charcoal lingered in the air.
I sent Sophie a text: Ran into someone. Cover for me?
She texted back: What?! Fine. Have fun
Which was followed by at least ten winking faces.
Sophie's mom and stepdad were watching the fireworks from their front porch in the glow of the colored Christmas lights that decorated the porch year-round. Her mom was holding a Mason jar full of pink wine and based on the smell in the air, Jeremy had recently taken his evening dose of medicinal marijuana. I said an awkward hello, muttered about having to pee and ran to the upstairs bathroom to change. I pulled off my shorts and tank top, put the dress on over my new swimsuit, switched my flip flops for ballet flats and shoved my clothes in my bag and left it in the bathroom closet.
When I reached the pool there was no one in sight. There were tall, bushy pine trees along the side of the locker room building that concealed me as I climbed the fence and landed on the other side. A bright spotlight positioned on top of the locker room building shone over the water to deter late night swimmers. A large red firework burst overhead and the delayed boom thundered in my chest and seemed to alter the rhythm of my heartbeat. I peered into the still water while twisting the ring around my finger and thought, This is the craziest thing I've ever done.
To avoid a loud splash, I climbed down the side ladder. The white skirt filled with air and floated up around me until it soaked through and clung to my legs. With my lungs full of air, I pushed off the ladder and swam straight toward the bottom of the pool. As the water pressure intensified, I thought of my grandparents celebrating Independence Day; eighteen years old, swimming maybe, or at a cookout or a parade.
The rushing current hit me as I approached the pool floor. As soon as I stopped swirling I reached for the daylight. The fabric of the dress and the shoes weighed me down, but I burst through the surface sooner than I anticipated. Sunlight shone red through my eyelids and when I opened them I was surrounded by concrete walls. The pool had been drained, and I stood in the cloudy jade green water that was left in the deep end.
It must have been emptied for repairs, or maybe because of some kind of biohazardous event. I shuddered and ran out of the water into the empty shallow end. The ladders and steps had been removed, so I hoisted myself up onto the deck and sighed when I realized the locker room was closed and I'd have to climb the fence again to get out. On the way down, I slipped and fell the last few feet through the tree branches. I hit the ground, tumbled onto my back and my head smacked the sidewalk with a thud. A shriek pierced my eardrums. Was it mine? I closed my eyes tight and tensed in expectation of the sharp pain that never came.
"Are you okay?" asked a voice from above me.
First I saw shoes, then the hem of a grey skirt, a lilac blouse and then a distantly familiar face staring back at me. My mind froze once I realized the possibility that this girl could be my grandmother and all I could do was stare. Her face was tear-stained, and she looked genuinely concerned.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She wiped the glistening tear tracks away with her palms and smiled.
"I'm not the one who fell out of a tree," she held out her hand to help me up.
"I'm sorry if I scared you," I said quietly as I studied her face.
It was her. Of course it was.
Her hair was a warm chestnut shade and her lips red, not like the dull dark grey they were in the black and white photographs. But the high cheekbones, laughing eyes, and bob hairstyle all matched every picture I'd seen of my grandma when she was young. And unlike the permanently frozen smile of a photograph, hers was alive and warm as she touched my shoulder and asked, "Are you hurt?"
I wasn't hurt badly. I was in shock. I wanted to hug her. I felt like I might pass out. I wanted to tell her who I was, and that I missed her. Try to explain how I got there and ask if she knew how such a thing was even possible. But I knew I shouldn't do or say any of those things. It wasn't like I'd imagined at all; not like seeing a ghost. She was breathing and so young and her hand was warm on my wet shoulder and I was completely stunned and overwhelmed.
"I'm fine." I winced as she drew her hand from my shoulder.
"Were you in the pool?" She glanced at the murky water and back at my wet dress.
"Yeah, I have a really bad sleepwalking problem." I laughed nervously as she stared at me wide-eyed. "So, that's embarrassing. Anyway, thanks."
I forced myself to walk away before she could ask any more questions. Sleepwalking? What was I thinking? But I was so tired it was surprising that I could speak at all without slurring. I was practically sleepwalking.
I slipped between neatly trimmed hedges into a church garden, where I sat down on a stone bench and dropped my spinning head into my hands. In the center of the garden was a statue and a miniature lilac bush that scented the air with its strong perfume. Coming face to face with my grandmother at my age was too much. My thoughts were slippery, difficult to grasp, like chasing the waves that crashed on the beach, knowing they would always retreat.
Why am I here again?
What was she doing there?
Oh yeah, to apologize to Pete.
Why had she been crying?
How am I going to find him?
Between the head spinning and the exhaustion, it felt like I had been awake for twenty-four hours straight. Maybe I had been awake for that long, since I left at night and arrived in the morning. After all, I had no idea how this time traveling thing worked.
But it did work, for the second time. I couldn't believe it.
Afraid that I would fall asleep right there on the bench, I got up to start searching. I'd check his house first, but if he wasn't there, I had no idea where to find him on Independence Day. What if he went out of town? Or what if he was at work? His shirt with the name patch hinted at a job in the skilled trades, so maybe he'd be working as a mechanic or electrician or something. He might not have the day off.
A loud car roared past me and coughed, sputtered and stalled out on the next block. The driver attempted to start it again, but the engine wheezed pathetically. Two guys got out and checked under the hood. As I got closer, one of them began to look familiar.
My shins felt cold and my knees unsteady.
Pete backed away from the car and scratched his head in confusion as the other guy kept his head buried in the engine.
Even though his face appeared every time I closed my eyes over the previous two weeks, it was like seeing him for the first time. The earth seemed to shift, making me feel dizzy and unbalanced and finally aware of what it meant to swoon. He was even better looking than I remembered. I felt intimidated and ridiculous and almost walked by him without saying a thing. But my mouth moved before I had a chance to stop it.
"Pete?" I heard myself say. My mouth was so dry it came out like a croak. He snapped out of his focused stare and watched with amused curiosity as I approached him. "Hi," I said with a wave.
Why did I wave? I was standing like five feet away from him, so I was pretty sure he could see me. I tucked the offending hand under my other arm.
"Hi there," he said. His eyes were still friendly, but somehow not quite the same. It was the flash of recognition; it was gone.
"Did you get a new car?" I asked.
It looked like a gangster car from the movies; black, with a long front end, short little windows and round headlights, but the paint job was dull and the body looked kind of beat up.
"Nah, we're working on this one."
"I'm, uh, glad I ran into you. I wanted to thank you for helping me the other day."
He leaned against the rounded fender and gave me a once over from head to toe and back up again. I gulped and shifted uncomfortably.
"What was your make and model?" he asked.
"Huh?"
"What kind of car do you drive?"
"A Chevy Malibu. Why?"
"I remember cars better than faces," he said with a shrug, "but I've never heard of a Malibu."
"I didn't have a car, I-"
Then he cocked his head and asked, "What happened to you?"
"I eventually found my way home."
"I mean, why are you soaking wet?"
"Oh. I got attacked by a sprinkler." He grinned and a dimple appeared on the right side that I hadn't noticed before. Sleepwalking and sprinkler attacks? My on-the-spot lying was pitiful.
"What's your name?"
"It's Vanessa." I hoped he couldn't hear the disappointment in my voice. He'd already forgotten my name.
"I'll be sure to tell the other guys at the shop you said thanks, Vanessa."
I wanted to say something else, to try to remind him of who I was. But if he didn't remember me after everything that happened that day, there was no hope.
The guy he was with emerged from under the hood and sighed heavily. "I dunno," he said, shaking his head. "We gotta go get Evans."
Pete flashed an apologetic lopsided smile. "I'll see you around," he said before slamming the hood and walking away.
I said goodbye, but it barely squeaked past the tightness in my throat.
My heart felt like it was being fed through a meat grinder and I nearly doubled over. It seemed that my expectations were always shattered by reality. I wasn't even sure what I expected, but that was definitely not it. I'd invested so much time thinking about Pete, and the payoff was not even being recognized.
Because I didn't want to awkwardly follow him, I went in the opposite direction. He didn't remember me, so I tried to convince myself my job there was done and all I wanted was to go home. But when I reached the nearly empty pool, I recoiled at the sight of the disgusting water and felt saddened by the thought of returning to my regular life.
Across the street, there was a woman gardening in her front yard. As soon as I laid my eyes on her, she quickly turned back to her flowerbed. She had been watching me, and from the sour, pinched look on her face, I assumed she was the nosy type who would continue to do so. Which meant I definitely couldn't climb the fence and hop in the stagnant water quite yet, so I sighed and kept walking.