Page 10 of Maybe Some Other Time
Thelma was slightly startled by that question, which was so much quieter now that they were alone together in a box.
“Yes.”
“Wow. You whole look is so… retro.”
Thelma said nothing. She was embarrassed. Lost.
Miriam led her down more hallways, past checkpoints, and beyond the gates of the field office building. When fresh California air hit her cheeks, Thelma closed her eyes and walked with a gait that suggested she was in familiar territory. But that was a brief reprieve before she was in another building that courted a low hum in the walls. One of the overhead lights was threatening to go out, and the minute flashes hurt her head.
She was back in that fog. Except instead of driving, her limbs swam through the soup, its resistance forcing her muscles to work harder than ever before. Every step was laborious. Every word she spoke to Miriam sounded like it was on the moon, passing through thick, oppressive water that threatened to drown her if she opened her mouth too wide. Breaths pounded into her chest, but she couldn’t breathe. All she could think about was going home, putting her children to bed, and collapsing on the couch where her son had spent the whole evening sick.
She saw Bill’s face on a man who passed them by without a word. She heard Sandy’s voice on the device Miriam used to call someone for permission to access an empty hallway. The only thing Thelmadidn’thear or feel was her soul as it attempted to dissociate from this strange place.
This isn’t happening… this isn’t happening…
Should she be proud of herself? For coming off so collected to the female agent who looked like she didn’t take proper care of her hair and wore fibers that made her body odor offensive to Thelma’s nose?Not even Bill’s suits are this cheap.He would roast like a sinner in church if he wore Miriam’s suit—even if cut for a man!
No, she wasn’t proud of herself. She admonished her judgmental thoughts as she was shown into a humble hotel room. The bed lacked a proper quilt, but it would do. And the curtains? Awful to the touch, and pulled back to reveal a blank wall.This is for prisoners.Witness protection, too, she would later discover. Was that what she was? A witness of time travel in need of protection?
Miriam showed her around. There was no technology aside from the lights, a digital clock (no radio), and a landline phone.What other kind would there be?The only call she could make was directly to an operator who could patch her through to whatever agent she was looking for, but people could callher.The reading materials had been prepped for her arrival. Magazines from the ‘50s that had seen better days were inside a drawer, right beside a Bible bearing the name Gideon. Old Victorian classics were on a shelf next to the likes of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Upton Sinclair. There were fresh towels in the bathroom, as well as a toothbrush wrapped in plastic alongside hand soap that smelled like jasmine flowers. Miriam showed her how to use the shower, but all Thelma could think about was a bath.This tub is so small, though…At least a toilet was a toilet.
“Clean clothes, of course.” Miriam showed basic underwear, also wrapped in plastic, inside one of the dresser drawers. There were also plain white T-shirts in various sizes, as well as striped pajamas cut for a man’s body. “Sorry about that,” Miriamsheepishly apologized. “It’s too late tonight, but I’ll bring you something more suitable for a lady tomorrow.”
“It’s all right.” Thelma placed her purse on a table by the curtains and removed her driving gloves. There was still some ink left from when they took her fingerprints. “I am quite hungry, though. I haven’t eaten in… well, since lunch. I hadn’t even had dinner.” It was finally hitting her now that she could relax a little.
“Oh, sure! Now,thatI can get you right now. The kitchen in the office is closed, but that food’s trash, anyway. I can put it on the expense account if I get you takeout tonight! What do you like? What’s your comfort food? Oh, I know all the best Mexican places around here. Peruvian, too.GreatHonduran food cart on the corner here.”
Thelma was too overwhelmed already. “Forgive me, but spices don’t agree with me.”
“I mean, there’s some pretty white-people Mexican around here, too… no offense… oh, but the Peruvian’s out.”
Sighing, Thelma sat in the chair at the table. “Something easy on the stomach, please. A sandwich. Some soup? I was making canned soup for dinner. My husband was making grilled cheese while I stepped…” She sniffed. Miriam’s face softened. “Sorry.”
“Honestly, all of the good delis are closed this late.” Miriam flexed her hand against the back of her head. Her gun was quite prominent from that angle. “Canned soup, huh? What kind?”
“Campbell’s.”
“Oh, neat. That’s still around.”
For some reason, Thelma chuckled. What else could she do?
“There’s Chinese food… Thai food… do you like Thai food? It’s still delicious even if it’s not spicy.”
“I’ve never had Thai food.”
“Damn.”
Thelma sighed. “Yes. Damn.”
“Indian food… Korean barbecue…”
“What about American food? Does that exist?” She knew she sounded exasperated, but what else could she do? She was being barraged with country names!Korean barbecue… what even is that?At least she knew Korea continued to exist sixty years later. If it hadn’t been for the kids, Bill considered reenlisting for the cause in Korea.
Miriam shot her a silent but slightly judgmental look. “Honestly, besides pizza, it’s mostly bar food this late. For American fare, I mean. And you said easy on the stomach.”
Thelma leaned her elbow on the table. There was nobody there to judge her for it, so why not? “Italian. How about Italian? You’re telling me nobody’s out on a lovely date for Italian tonight?”
“Oh, right, I forgot about Italian! Sure, I think Giuseppe’s is open. Speaking of expense accounts… hell yeah. Think I’ll get something for ol’ Ortiz, too. You like cannoli?”
