Perfectly Timed Page 2

  I don’t know the song she sings, it’s something about losing a great love she had. It was probably penned about some wonderful romance that I’ll never get to experience. It’s pretty hard to find a boyfriend when they can’t see you. Or talk to you.

  As the windows darken outside, the café starts to get busier. It isn’t long before the tables are filled and the bar stools are precariously close to becoming a coveted possession. It won’t be long before I have to get up so someone doesn’t accidently sit on me. I won’t mind standing though, anything to keep listening to the soulful music.

  People keep standing in my way, blocking my view. It’s annoying so I try to get closer to the stage. As I walk, I swipe a glass of water from one of the tables. They won’t miss water. I could have taken their alcoholic drink and make them really suffer.

  I linger by the stage, watching the piano player’s fingers run across the keys. He’s quick when he has to be but beautifully slow when the song requires it. He and the singer are perfectly suited and in time, like they have been playing together for a long period. I wonder if they are lovers, secretly together despite their time’s taboo and conservatism. I bet they are.

  They take a break, promising to return after a round of applause. I clap too, even though it doesn’t count. At least I know I appreciate their efforts.

  I quickly grow bored and look around, studying the couples in the café. Everyone looks to be having a good night, the freely flowing wine and food always seem to fuel frivolity no matter what time I am in.

  Then I see him again.

  The same guy that was in the markets and who stole the cherries. He stands across the café from me, skulking between the other patrons. I wonder what else he might steal from the unsuspecting people. I half expect him to sneak into the kitchen and help himself to whatever is left unattended.

  He doesn’t though, instead he crosses the room. He’s looking straight ahead in my direction. If I wasn’t invisible, I would think he was looking at me. He isn’t though, I am invisible. It’s not like that magically changed overnight.

  I can’t stop staring at him as he heads my way. His black hair bounces with each step, continually falling in his face so he has to brush it away again. Over and over again, it’s enchanting to watch.

  I know I’m going to have to make my feet move in only a matter of moments or he’s going to collide with me. I don’t fancy being bowled over by the guy, even if he is cute in that bad boy sultry kind of way.

  It feels like his intense blue eyes are drilling right into me, it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I don’t like this feeling anymore, it’s creepy. He can’t see me, he shouldn’t be looking at me like he can see into my soul. It’s surreal for a moment, like I’ve left my body.

  “You can see me,” he says with his voice full of wonder. I look around, wondering who it was behind me that he was talking to. There’s nothing but a wall at my back. I step to the side, fearing he might step right into me.

  His eyes follow me to the right. It can’t be. I don’t know how he’s doing it but it can’t be happening. Something has gone terribly wrong.

  Chapter 2

  “You can see me,” the guy with the raven hair repeats. I don’t know what to say, I really don’t. My first instinct is to run but I don’t want to.

  “You can see me?” I ask. I want to reach out and touch him to make sure he is real. I clasp my hands together to stop myself.

  He nods, a smile spreading across his lips. “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “My name is Noah.”

  “I’m Ella.”

  He starts to stay something but I’m distracted for a moment. It’s starting. The pull is tugging at my chest and threatening to take me away at any moment. Every second counts.

  “I’m leaving,” I say, cutting him off from whatever he is saying. “I have to go.”

  He quickly examines me with his eyes, looking at me from head to foot. He shakes his head. “Fight it.”

  “I can’t.”

  Realizing we only have seconds left, he speaks quickly. “The times, they mean something. It’s not random. You have to work it out to make it stop. You have to—”

  “What?” I can’t hear him, the white light overloads my senses.

  “It’s not random. You have—”

  I desperately want to stay, I stomp my foot on the ground to try and remain but it’s no use.

  “I can’t hear you,” I shout through the whirling around me.

  “You have to—”

  In the next moment, everything is white. I tumble through time, unable to control anything. I give myself over to the pull, knowing there is not one thing I can do to fight it.

  I close my eyes and wait to feel the ground beneath me again. The light fades and is replaced by gray, and black, and yellow, and blue. I look around quickly as horns start booming around me.

  I’m in the middle of a street. I quickly dart through the traffic and yellow cabs. I have to jump over several puddles before I can reach the sidewalk.

  I lean against the wall of the tall skyscraper. I don’t care where I am or in what time I’ve bounced. All I can think of is what the hell happened back there? Who was that guy and why could he see me? What did he mean when he said the places I went weren’t random? What did he know? How did he know it? There were so many questions whirling around in my head and all they were doing was confusing me.

  The only thing I know for sure, the only thing that makes sense, is that the boy was a time traveler too. It had to be how he knew what was going on, how he could see. I didn’t even know there were others like me out there. The entire four years I have been bouncing around through time and space I assumed I was the only one.

  But I’m not alone now. If Noah is like me too, then how many other people out there are like us? It may just be the two of us, but at least there are two of us. I have to find him again, I have to work out what he meant.

  Yet all I have is a first name and that’s all. If Noah is a time traveler, he could be in any time or in any place. It will be like searching for a needle in a haystack the size of a country. I have no chance of finding him, no chance at all.

  The thought depresses me but I know I’ve got to be realistic. Just like everything else I’ve had to deal with, Noah is one more disappointment. It would be a miracle if I ever see him again, I have to just keep going. At least I’ve managed to keep myself alive for this long.

  For the first time, I take a good look around at my new surroundings. I’m in a city, one with lots of taxi cabs. It reminds me of New York but I could be wrong. I tend to be wrong about a lot of things.

  I stand on the sidewalk and try to avoid those walking around me. The clothes are much more modern than in France in my last time jump but they still aren’t as modern as my own time. The pants the men wear are flared at the bottom. The women are mostly in bright and colorful dresses. They wear their hair high, showing off large hooped earrings of all colors.

  I think I’m in the sixties or seventies. Some of the people walking around me could definitely be described as hippies. I really don’t care where I am or in what era I’ve bounced to, it doesn’t concern me as long as I am in no danger and have access to food and shelter.

  I start walking. Judging by the low lying sun in the sky, I won’t have long before night falls. The clouds are ominous, I’m going to have to find somewhere to sleep that is indoors And warm. If the impending rain doesn’t get me, then the cold will.

  Landing in the city offers some unique challenges over a country town or village. My options for where to stay are smaller. The apartments will be full already, it will be hard slipping in and going unnoticed. There are probably shelters around the city but they tend to be full too. Homeless people exist in any time.

  My only real option is to either find a place on the street, perhaps in a park or public amenities, or to break into a hotel and find a spare room. The hotel option works most of t
he time, but it is still difficult to pull off without attracting attention.

  I walk through the streets, hoping an answer will reveal itself. I am in no mood to actively seek out somewhere safe and warm. I know I have to, but I can’t focus my brain on solving the task at hand. A part of my mind is still in France with Noah.

  I step off the curb without paying attention and stumble on a pothole. Before I know it, I’m falling onto the road. My arms shoot out to break my fall but they only add to my pain as I hit the tar. I instantly hurt everywhere from my knees to my forehead where it has skimmed the road.

  But that isn’t the worst of my problems. I am on the road, where there are cars. I roll to the curb, hoping I am out of the way of any vehicles headed my way. I just need a moment so I can recover enough to stand and be on my way.

  My knees are both bleeding, as are the palms of my hands, my elbows, and forehead. They don’t look like they need stitches but I can’t see my forehead so that could be anyone’s guess. Blood gushes in all directions but I don’t think anything is broken. My spirit maybe, but no bones.

  I force myself to stand so I can get moving again. I can’t sit on the road for too long before I tempt fate too much and someone runs over me. My legs are shaky and suddenly fatigued, I don’t think I’ll be able to walk too far now.

  The injuries only fuel my anger at the world. They know when to kick me when I’m down. As if my life wasn’t bad enough, now I have to be all cut and bruised. My wrists throb with pain, having taken the brunt of the impact. I stomp along, trying to ignore the ache in my knees.

  My light cotton dress is completely inadequate in the weather. If I was wearing something more appropriate, it would have helped protect me in the fall. I’ll have to find something else to wear tomorrow. At least being in the city should give me plenty of options and my stealing should go unnoticed. At least there are some perks to being lost in a large crowd.

  I stumble down an alleyway, hoping it will lead somewhere warm and quiet. I have to hold onto the wall as I move to stop myself from falling over again.

  At the end of the alley is the back of several buildings. Someone has strung a tarpaulin across the awnings to create a temporary shelter. Three boys are huddled underneath, along with a taller girl. I doubt any of them would be older than me.

  It seems good enough for now. I sit at the edge, keeping a safe distance from them. They can’t know I am here or it would ruin everything and I’d have to keep moving. My body doesn’t want to move anymore. It’s going to be a cold and long night, I’m not looking forward to it.

  The kids are talking amongst themselves, chattering away about something they deem important. The rain is starting, the pitter patter on the tarpaulin makes it difficult to hear them. I consider moving closer so I could but I decide against it. I don’t really want to hear about their problems. It’s not like I don’t have issues of my own going on.

  I can’t shake the memory of Noah and the way he could see me. It’s been so long since I’ve been seen that it’s a completely new feeling. But a thought occurs to me, perhaps there was nothing special about Noah? Perhaps somehow I was visible now? The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

  Thinking it through, nobody has paid me any attention on the streets but that could have been because of the rain. Or maybe because I was in a city where nobody took any notice of anyone else. Can the kids see me just a few feet away? I probably look a mess.

  “Hello?” I say, loud enough to make sure they can hear me. I study their faces for some kind of recognition, a sign that they could hear my voice.

  “Can you hear me?” None of them move. They don’t respond or turn around. I am still invisible, I should have known not to hope for anything else.

  So Noah is special then. He has to be a time traveler too, there is no other explanation I can think of. It comforts me in a way I didn’t think possible. But then the frustration of having him there for only a few moments takes over.

  I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes. The wind starts to pick up and it’s impossible to stay out of the rain. No matter where I sit, the gusts still send the water my way.

  It’s a long and miserable night in the alleyway. I curse myself for not finding better shelter. If it wasn’t for my painful knee, I would have done so. So really, I curse myself for falling in the first place. I shouldn’t have been so clumsy. I don’t know how long it will take for the pain to subside. I add aspirin to the shopping list in my mind.

  Sometime during the night I must have fallen asleep because I wake up with a sore neck from the awkward position. I try to stand, testing my knee. It can sort of hold my weight but I have to limp to get around.

  My first task is finding food, my stomach is growling in protest at being so empty. Around the corner from the alley is a diner. Judging by the accents, I’m pretty sure I’m in the United States.

  Inside, the diner is cozy and warm. It looks like the rain has eased up but everything outside is still damp. I go into the kitchen and help myself to some toast and bacon. I make a sandwich out of the two ingredients and return to the seating area. A spare stool awaits me, hopefully it doesn’t look welcoming to anyone else.

  Two men sit on my left side, they are talking loudly and it distracts me as I start to listen in. One is wearing a blue suit, the other a T-shirt with a picture of a rainbow across the yellow fabric. They’re not eating anything, just drinking coffee.

  “We’ve got to attend the protest today, show how we’re not going to be ignored,” the man in the yellow shirt says resolutely. His brown shoulder-length hair bobs when he speaks.

  “The police are going to be there, it could get out of hand.”

  “Good, then maybe they’ll take us seriously. The war has to end and it has to end now. Our voices have to be heard.”

  Blue Suit seems to be the more sensible of the two. He isn’t going to be talked into anything he doesn’t want to do. “They’re not going to listen to us if we’re in jail.”

  “We’re in jail anyway, man, they keep trying to control everything we do.”

  I want to laugh. If they think the police, or whoever is trying to control them, is bad they should try being in my shoes. I don’t even get a say in where I am in time. And nobody at all listens to me.

  Their conversation continues but I’ve lost interest. At least the food is good, delicious even. A modern city definitely beats an old rural village in the way of cuisine.

  I leave the diner and go in search of some shops. I need clothes more than anything now. My limp seems to improve the more I walk on it as my knee gets used to holding my weight again. I hate it when I injure myself. It’s not like I can go to a doctor and they’ll fix me. I’m alone, absolutely alone without anyone able to see me. Self-diagnosing and stealing medicine is the best I can do.

  A department store catches my eye and I enter, hoping they will have everything I need. I prefer taking from a large store than a small one, there is less chance that someone will suffer from the loss.

  The clothes in the ladies’ department don’t seem all that nice. They are full of short skirts or bell bottom pants. The high-waisted look isn’t really for me. I keep going until I reach the junior department. The clothes here a little bit more subdued. The skirts are a little longer and the pants seem less flared.

  I pick a tunic dress and a blouse to go underneath it, hoping it will fit. The sizes don’t make any sense to me so I’m going to have to try it on before I leave. It doesn’t matter how it looks, but it’s got to be comfortable or I’ll bounce around through time even grumpier than I usually am.

  I take my choice to the fitting rooms, unwilling to change in public. The store is almost empty so there are plenty of change rooms available. I don’t worry about closing the curtain because of the attention I might attract, but I’m certain nobody could see me even if I wasn’t invisible. I put the thick tights on first.

  As I’m changing, a mother and daughter enter. The mom carries a bunch o
f clothes and hangs them in one of the cubicles. The daughter disappears behind the curtain to change.

  “Make sure to show me when you’ve got them on,” she says as she waits. I hear a sigh come from behind the curtain. I laugh to myself, they sound just like me and my mother used to. She would always want to see everything and I never wanted to show her. It used to annoy me just the same.

  I check my appearance in the mirror, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who can see my reflection. I can never be too careful though so I’m always discreet about it. It would be great if they could see me in the mirror, at least I would have a chance of communicating with people. But, then again, what would I need to tell them? That I was there? That I was bouncing through time without anyone caring? It’s not like they could help me or anything.

  My outfit looks okay, at least it’s warmer than my dress. Hopefully next time I’m pulled away it’s not to the desert or something, then I would be really stuffed.

  “I don’t like it, Mom.” The girl in the change room stares at herself in the mirror. She looks good in the outfit, even though it’s a mustard brown colored dress. Her mother fusses over her, pulling the fabric here and there.

  “I think you look beautiful.”

  “It’s horrible.”

  Her mother sighs, they’ve obviously had this conversation many times before. “Well, try the next one on then. Maybe you’ll like that one better.”

  The daughter closes the curtain with a fed up flick of the wrist. I watch the mother for a few more moments, she’s so patient as she waits. She doesn’t tap her foot or check her watch, she’s just there for her kid. I won’t admit how much seeing her makes me miss my own mom. I never appreciated her enough before I left, I really didn’t.

  I can’t stand being in the change rooms any longer, I have to get out of here. The walls are closing in on me and I want to yell at the girl to just give her mother a hug and never let go.