A Good Year for the Lost Ones

0
191

By Tressa Eckermann, Senior Staff Writer

“Fellas, coincidence and fate figure largely in our lives.”

-Special Agent Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan)

“Twin Peaks”

The story of my travel through time is rather anti-climactic. There was no blue box that was bigger on the inside or a mad scientist with a really cool 80s car. I’ve yet to meet Crispin Glover and haven’t suffered a major head injury- at least that I know of. I’m fairly certain that I didn’t take any hallucinogenic drugs and am now doing an impersonation of Hunter Thompson. No, I simply went to bed in 2012 and woke up in 1978.

    *         *        *

I don’t care who you are, waking up on a park bench is just plain weird.

“Ma’am are you okay? Ma’am?” I heard this hollow; far away sounding British voice and my eyes snapped open.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I think it looks like you had a rough night.” I sat up and looked around. I was on a large green park bench in a lush garden. I could hear cars moving behind me and before me stood a rather odd looking man. He was tall and lanky, closely cropped reddish blonde hair, and wide green eyes. He was giving me a reassuring but uneasy smile that was wide and goofy.

“I wish I could remember it,” I said.

“That’s usually the way those things go,” he said.

“What’s your name?” I asked, running a hand through my hair.

“Atticus Fitzgerald.” He held out his hand and I shook it.

“Tabitha Landry.”

Something about this whole thing just felt, off. My mind felt fuzzy and I couldn’t remember ever visiting this park. I was either on the other side of town or having the world’s most vivid dream. I took out my phone and started tapping on the screen. It lit up but I wasn’t getting a signal.     

“Are you from the TARDIS or something?” Atticus asked with a smile.

“What?” He pointed at my phone. That’s when it hit me.

“What’s the date?” I asked standing slowly.  

“July 12.”

“I mean the year.” He looked at me like I’d completely lost it, which considering what I was thinking wasn’t totally out of bounds.

“1978.”

I felt the air leave my lungs and I sat down hard. No way. I started mumbling to myself.

“Either I’m more delusional than the people who thought ‘Vanilla Sky’ would be good, or…”

“What?” Atticus looked more confused than I felt. Welcome to the club, pal.

“Oh, yeah, um thirty years from now don’t go see a movie called Vanilla Sky.  It’s terrible and will make you hate life.”

“Are you okay, Ms. Landry?” Atticus asked.

“I’m about as far from okay as one person can get.”

“Well, what’s the problem?”

Wasn’t that the most loaded question of all time?

“I’m not from,” I thought a moment. What was the best way to tell him this without sounding completely unhinged? “I’m not from around this time.”

“Don’t you mean you’re not from around these parts? That’s usually what people say.”

I raised an eyebrow and stood suddenly. Atticus jumped but stood with me.

“I wish I meant that. It would be a lot easier to get a plane ticket back home.”

 

Comments

comments