Page 18 of Maybe Some Other Time
Even now, dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a light jacket, Thelma bounced her curls in front of a mirror. Her makeup had received plenty of compliments at counseling and night class. Besides that, the only thing she still wore from the night she arrived was her heels. The dress and undergarments were tucked in a suitcase that rolled behind her when she walked.
“Here are your new documents, Mrs. Van der Graaf.” Agent Wilcox handed her a folder containing a birth certificate claiming her birth year was 1990, an ID card with her photo on it, and a new Social Security card. “Your name remains the sameat your request, and your cover story is that you are Robert’s niece. Granted the state of your daughter’s, ah… mind…”
Thelma furrowed the brows she had just immaculately groomed the night before. “Are you saying my cover story is that I am my own granddaughter?”
“It was the easiest cover we could come up with, and Deborah cannot fight us about it.”
Megan was the only one who heard that. “Whoa. They’re saying you’re mycousin.That’s wild! Aunt Debbie had no kids!”
“Well, she does now. Legally speaking.” Agent Wilcox cleared his throat. “Besides, a lot of women named their daughters after their mothers. Mine did.”
“Thank you.” Thelma tucked the folder beneath her arm. “I’m sure I will adjust.”
He nodded, relieved that she wasn’t making a scene. “We’ve provided your granddaughter with a Visa debit card to help you procure a more expansive wardrobe and whatever supplies you need to transition to your new life. She said she’s… quite excited to take you shopping.”
“How do you feel about getting your nails done?” Megan asked after cupping her hands around her mouth so she could be heard from across the lobby. “I know a great place!”
“That might be lovely.”
“As for procuring a job for you… we’ll be in touch. In the meantime, Agent Ortiz will be by every couple of days and will have a list of volunteer opportunities if you’re interested. We find that many of our chrononauts like to stay busy, and it helps ease them into modern society.”
He didn’t have much else to say to her that wasn’t already covered in the other literature sent “home” with her.Wherever home is.She knew that Megan and Robbie lived only about forty-five minutes away, depending on traffic, but hadn’t heard of the street. The only other things she knew were that her sonwas a retired corporate accountant who did extensive volunteer work on the side to, as Agent Wilcox quipped, stay busy. And Megan was a college student who still lived with her father.
How will I fit into this?
They piled into the back of a large, unmarked car with Agent Ortiz at the wheel and Agent Thornwood waving at them through the window.
“Safe trip!” he called to Thelma. “Good luck!”
She waved back, but the car was already moving.
“Look at the size of this thing,” Thelma said to later break the silence. She had her purse in her lap and the folder still tucked beneath her arm. The seatbelt felt suffocating against her chest, but she got used to it in a few minutes. Beside her, Robbie refused to look at her. Across from her, Megan grinned. “I’m looking right at you! You’re riding backward!” Thelma giggled. “And the ride is so smooth. Doesn’t it smell nice in here?”
“It’s just a van…” Megan said. “Guess you’re not too familiar with them.”
“They didn’t look like this a month ago.”
Robbie grunted.
Until then, Thelma had let her son stew in whatever emotions he experienced.I’m sure this has been extremely difficult for him.The shock, then whatever betrayal from the universe he felt for letting his mother disappear for so long. But now? When they would be spending every day together? When Thelma would be living in his house?
“How about I cook something for dinner?” Thelma looked between her son and granddaughter—and Miriam’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “I haven’t cooked in a month! I might be out of practice. Oh, how about Sloppy Joes? Is that still one of your favorites?”
Robbie’s shoulders tensed. Megan joined Thelma in her giggling. “Sloppy Joes?” the younger woman asked. “Definitely not what I thought you were going to suggest.”
“So, they’re still called that?”
“As far as I know.”
“What did you think I’d suggest?”
“Oh, man, where to begin? Jell-O spiked with tuna?”
Thelma’s nose wrinkled, concaving right into the center of her face. “Excuse me?”
“There’s this big trend right now where we take old recipes from the ‘50s and try them out. Y’all werewildingwith the aspic!”
Robbie’s voice was slightly louder now.
