The Rockmore House

18 | Erase

In the bathroom, I took the waterproof travel belt I'd pre-packed out of my bag and fastened it around my waist. I shoved my bag with my laptop and phone in it behind a stack of towels in the closet. The travel belt made my sweater look lumpy, but it wasn't anything my swingy coat couldn't hide. I'd decided it was time to upgrade from duct taping zippered plastic bags to myself. Instead of the makeup and peppermint gum I'd packed for summer days with Pete, I'd stuffed the travel belt with a folded printout of my time travel document, a multipurpose tool, pre-1953 coins, a packet of caffeine pills, and an energy bar.

I didn't know if I had a link to the Rockmore House in 1953, but Liz asked me to find her in 1953 and so I was going to try. But I worried that I'd end up in 1955 because that's when Rose moved into the Rockmore House and I didn't know if Liz or Rose would have a greater pull on me.

I washed my hands at the sink and sat on the floor without drying them. Then I leaned against the tiled wall and closed my eyes and tried to relax, but I couldn't, knowing Eric was sitting out there thinking I was headed to work. The doorknob kept grabbing my attention, because I'd decided to keep the door unlocked in case I was gone for hours. But what if someone walked in while I was sitting on the floor? I rose to my knees to lock the door and turn the faucet on, thinking the running water would help.

I tried lying flat on the floor and focused on the sound of running water, but then I worried that Eric would think I was in the bathroom running the faucet because I had a shy bladder. I stood up, turned the faucet off and gave myself a quiet pep talk in the mirror.

Maybe if I took a shower? I wondered, after I laid on the floor for a few more minutes and still nothing had happened.

No. I could not get into the shower. That would be beyond weird. And I'd wind up in 1953 naked. Or in soaking wet clothes, which wouldn't work in November.

Eventually I gave up. As soon as I stepped out of the house, cold, fat raindrops hit my face and mingled with my frustrated tears. If I couldn't use this ability I had to try to help someone, to help Liz, who shouldn't have even been stuck in the past to begin with, what was the point? I stormed down the driveway toward my car and then the ground dropped out from under me. After a moment of weightlessness, gravity took over and I found myself crumpled on the driveway, face down in the gravel.

I groaned and sat up. My Chevy Malibu wasn't parked on the street where I'd left it. It had been replaced with a navy blue antique car with round headlights and whitewall tires. I scraped my fingernails against my cheek to remove the tiny stones that were embedded in my skin. I unzipped my messenger bag, the strap of which was secured over my shoulder. My laptop was still there, along with my phone and everything else I hadn't planned to bring with me. I hoped the electronics would survive the time change and the impact from hitting the ground. It felt like I'd run full speed into a brick wall.

The Rockmore House seemed hell bent on beating the crap out of me.

I zipped the bag back up, brushed off my knees, and started walking toward the river and the Palmer Inn. I slipped my hand into my coat pocket to make sure my sunglasses were ready if I needed them. If I saw Pete, I would put on sunglasses and avoid him, while I died on the inside. I didn't want to get distracted when I was on a mission to find Liz. Between the sunglasses and different hairstyle and color, I hoped I'd be unrecognizable enough to get by.

It didn't seem like I'd have to worry about running into anyone, because the weather was the same as it was on the afternoon that I'd left behind. The clouds were low and dense and everyone must have been staying warm and dry inside their homes. I pulled the collar of my coat up to shield myself from the cold wind and stinging sporadic raindrops.