The Time-Traveling Umbrella

Chapter 2

Not unnaturally, many elevators imbued with intelligence and precognition became terribly frustrated with the mindless business of going up and down, up and down, experimented briefly with the notion of going sideways, as a sort of existential protest, demanded participation in the decision-making process and finally took to squatting in basements sulking.

The road was silent except for the pouring of the rain and the slight click-clack of short heels on smooth pavement. Natalie pulled her sad excuse for a hood up in a defense against the rain, but within seconds, it too was soaked. Most of the shops were closed by this time. Apartment buildings and clothing stores lined the flooding road; a flickering light bulb in an old street lamp flickered alone.

As the first boom of thunder sounded, Natalie berated herself for taking yet another nightshift. It's not even that good of a job, anyways. Don't forget the awful hours. Why do you still even have the job? She asked herself. But important questions about one's self would have to take place somewhere drier. She decided not to walk all the way home in this weather and ducked down into an alleyway between two buildings and pushed her shivering body against the wall in an attempt to get under the cover of the roof.

It was only marginally drier under the roof, though Natalie had to deal with the awful smell coming from the dumpster to her left. She stared longingly at the car that drove by, wishing she had her own. Natalie looked back and questioned the decisions that all resulted in her standing in the pouring rain in the middle of the night. The immediate answer was that she needed to put in more hours at her job because the rent was going to be due soon, but stranded alone with only her thoughts, Natalie began to look back at the recent changes in her life.

Just two months ago, Natalie had graduated from college, majoring in 18th century history, and to nobody's surprise, was yet to find a job in her field of study.

"Why couldn't you have chosen a more useful major?" Natalie recalled her mother saying just last month when she was kicked out of her mother's house. "I will not house some lazy 'historian' with a useless diploma and 25 dollars to her name!" Natalie's mother yelled as she threw one of Natalie's old dance trophies into a box. A slight shattering sound came from the bottom of the box, followed by Natalie's heart with the realization of how little her mother truly supported her.

People always said Natalie would go far with dance. What no one anticipated was that she didn't want to. Natalie's mother had pushed her to be a dancer as she was one herself in her youth, but Natalie had decided she wanted to pursue academics. Her mother disapproved of her decision and told her that she had a gift, a gift that couldn't be wasted. When Natalie decided to go to college to study history, her mother said she wouldn't pay for a single dime of it.

The two eventually reached a compromise that said Natalie had to minor in dance and coach the high school dance team once she left college, and in exchange, her mother would pay for college. When Natalie came home from college two months ago, her mother begrudgingly accepted her only daughter into her home. Her mother thought that her daughter's diploma would get her nowhere in life, and had begun to fear for her.

The history major had failed to find a job that was in any way related to history within the month, which resulted in her mother unleashing all her pent up frustration and fears at seeing her daughter fail at all the expectations set for her. Natalie sat at a bus stop that night, tear stricken, with a suitcase, useless diploma, and 25 dollars to her name.

That was the last time Natalie had seen her mother, and most likely, would ever see her. That was how she ended up with some beat-down, tiny apartment in a neighborhood where most people walk by just a tiny bit faster, but not enough to be noticed. That was why she was standing in a dark alleyway at 2:30 in the morning.

Natalie leaned against the concrete wall and slid down to sit on the ground. She slipped off her tacky orange heels and her aching feet at last found some relief from the immense pressure of standing on the balls of her feet all day. Looking at the sole of the shoes, she realized they were a size and a half too small. No wonder they hurt so much.

While she wanted to put the blame on the size of the heels, the real problem was the fact she wore them for six then eight hours straight. Working three jobs was exhausting enough without having to worry about getting home before the sun rose.

Once the sun rose, the pudgy mailman would walk down the muddy road and deliver the latest bill into Natalie's rusty mailbox. Natalie decided it was time to face yet another horror of being a grown up: checking her wallet.

She shuffled through her fancy college-days purse to find her oversized leopard wallet that, unsurprisingly, was not bursting at the seams. After she opened the zipper, she pushed through multiple cards: Library card, debit card, credit card, student ID, driver's license, gym membership, ID badge for the high school, and a Starbucks gift card (I should use this). Finally, she pulled back the divider between her money and the open world. 10, 15, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25. Huh, I guess she was right.

The immensity of all her life's choices and mistakes piled on all one at a time; slowly, they began to drown her under her own insecurity. What is the matter with you? Why are you not working in some big museum? Where is that big apartment in the city, not the slums? You will never get your life together. You are going to die a poor college graduate with a useless diploma and 25 dollars to your name!

Shocked, Natalie realized she had accidentally subconsciously quoted her own mother. She feared she was starting to believe the horrid lies she had been told all throughout her life. As she felt the first tear roll down her cheek, she whipped her trembling hand across her face, wiping it away while thinking, No, I am not crying, it is just another drop of rain. The salty consistency told her otherwise, but she ignored it and dragged herself off the ground, feeling 20 pounds heavier in the rain.

Natalie decided to no longer sit and mope about her depressing life and try to find something to keep herself dry the rest of the half-hour walk home. She desperately searched around trying to find something that fit the profile.

The alleyway had plenty of trash, but she knew that a dozen crumpled up soda cans and a banana peel would not be of any help. Spotting a moldy doormat gave her home momentarily, before she realized that a large rat was currently sitting on top of it. Despite the tremendous downpour, the rat looked at peace; much more than Natalie had felt when she was sitting on the ground less than ten feet away. Funny, how my life's problems affect absolutely no one but me.

Shoving away the moment of self-doubt, Natalie pushed back some abandoned trash bags, hoping to find some form of salvation from the rain. After yanking her hand back in disgust when she touched some form of what she hoped was chocolate pudding, Natalie saw the curved handle of what appeared to be an umbrella.

Natalie scrambled to grab the umbrella while she also prayed it was an umbrella. After she pulled it through the garbage bags, Natalie nearly pounded the air in her excitement. But her excitement calmed almost all at once when her hand had made contact with the handle. A feeling of odd serenity enveloped her entire body, starting from the now softly glowing and humming handle. Natalie's curiosity broke through the serenity and forced her to push open the black umbrella.

The tube of the umbrella was littered with flashing, glowing, buzzing, and twinkling buttons no larger than a thumbtack each, while the underside of the fabric appeared to be the actual night sky. At the ferrule sat a red button, alternating between a dim and bright glow. Natalie did not know what possessed her push the button, but it was the last thing she remembered before she felt strong hands on her shoulders, shaking her while muttering, "Wake up, miss. Wake up."