Ephemeral

Chapter 14

Mr Perez

The bell rings, signaling the end of class. I stand at the front, watching as the students pack their bags and file out of the room. Jack lingers at the back, eyes fixed on his desk, as if lost in thought. I shuffle through the last few history reports on my desk, feeling the weight of something pulling at me.

"Jack," I call out as the last student leaves. He looks up, his face a bit pale. "Can you stay for a moment? I'd like to talk to you."

He hesitates, then nods and approaches my desk. There’s something about him today—nervous, maybe even confused.

"Come to my office," I say, grabbing my folder. "It won’t take long."

We walk down the hall in silence. Jack keeps his eyes forward, hands tucked into his pockets. He’s always been quiet in class, but today feels different. Something about him makes me uneasy, like he knows more than he should.

Once we’re in my office, I close the door and sit behind my desk. Jack sits across from me, fidgeting slightly.

"Jack," I begin slowly, "how do you know about Samara Baumann?"

His face changes—confusion, then a flicker of something like fear. "Uh… what do you mean?"

"The name," I say, leaning forward. "Samara Baumann. It was in your report. How did you come across that name?"

Jack looks away for a second, clearly unsettled by the question. "Mrs. Delgado," he says, his voice uncertain. "She lent me some diaries. Her mom’s old diaries. That’s where I read about Samara."

I feel my chest tighten. Mrs. Delgado. Her mother. The name stirs something deep inside me—a connection I can't quite explain. "Mrs. Delgado," I repeat. "Nalina’s mom?"

Jack nods, still looking unsure. "Yeah, she let me borrow them for my history project."

I stand up, my mind racing. This can’t be a coincidence. "Jack, I need you to come with me."

"Where?" he asks, his confusion deepening.

"We’re going to see Mrs. Delgado."

Jack and I walk in silence to the Delgado house. My mind is spinning, trying to piece everything together. Samara Baumann. Jack reading about her in diaries. Mrs. Delgado lending those diaries. It’s too much of a coincidence.

We stop in front of the Delgado’s modest home. The sun is low, casting long shadows across the front yard. Jack hesitates at the front door before knocking. My pulse quickens, not entirely sure what to expect.
The door opens, and Mrs. Delgado, a warm woman with kind eyes, smiles at us. "Jack, Mr. Perez," she says, surprised but polite. "What brings you two here?"

I step forward, trying to gather my thoughts. "Good evening, Mrs. Delgado," I say, my voice a little more strained than I’d like. "I wanted to thank you for letting Jack borrow your mother’s diaries."

Her smile falters, and she tilts her head. "Of course," she says slowly. "My mother’s journals… they helped, I hope?"

"Yes," I reply, clearing my throat. "They were very helpful. But that’s not why I’m here."

Her expression shifts slightly, curiosity lacing her features. She steps aside, gesturing for us to enter. "Come in, please. We can talk inside."

Jack steps in first, and I follow. The living room is cozy, filled with photos and small keepsakes. Mrs. Delgado motions for us to sit, but I stay standing, my nerves tightening with every second.

"I know this may sound strange," I begin, taking a deep breath, "but I’ve… met your mother."

She freezes, her face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "What did you say?"

"I met your mother," I repeat, the words feeling surreal even as I say them. "Last year, I stayed in an old mansion in Germany. Your family’s home. I—" I pause, trying to find the right words. "I somehow… traveled back in time. To 1933. And I met her."

Mrs. Delgado blinks, then lets out a nervous laugh, as if she’s waiting for me to say I’m joking. But when I don’t, her expression shifts to something more serious. "You… what?"

"I know how it sounds," I continue quickly, "but it’s true. I stayed in your family’s ancestral home. There was a room—your mother’s old room. When I entered, I was… taken back in time. I met Samara Baumann."

Her face goes pale, her hands trembling slightly as she lowers herself into a chair. "You’re telling me that you… traveled back in time? And met my mother?"

I nod, my heart racing. "Yes. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. I spoke with her. She was about my age—twenty-three—had long, luscious black hair. She told me about her life in 1933—about Erich, about the struggles she faced. It wasn’t a dream. It felt real, too real."

Mrs. Delgado is quiet for a long moment, her eyes distant, as if she’s recalling something buried deep in her memory. Finally, she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. "My mother… she used to say strange things about that house. She told me once that there was a room… her old room, where time didn’t work the same. I never believed her. I thought she was… imagining things."

I swallow hard, the room suddenly feeling smaller. "It wasn’t her imagination. I was there. I saw it all."

She looks up at me, her eyes glistening with something between fear and understanding. "That room," she says softly, "it’s a portal. My mother used to tell me that the house was alive. That time could bend and twist there."

A chill runs down my spine. "So… it was real. I didn’t imagine it."

She nods slowly, her gaze locking with mine. "Yes, Mr. Perez. It was real."

The silence that follows is heavy, the air thick with the weight of the truth. We’re both standing on the edge of something impossible, but undeniable. I glance at Jack, who has been quiet this whole time, wide-eyed and pale.

Her face turns puzzled, and she leans closer. "But how could this be? My mother passed away long before you were born. How could you have met her?"

I look at her, the confusion and pain evident in her voice. "I don’t know how it happened. The room in the house—it must have been more than just a room. It was like a gateway to the past. I saw her just as she was then. It felt like she was waiting for something or someone."

Mrs. Delgado’s eyes widen, her hands clasped tightly. "So it was not just a dream or a trick of the mind. The room really did… transport you."

I nod, the reality of it all sinking in. "Yes. And I came back with more questions than answers. I needed to understand. To know what really happened."

She exhales slowly, as if coming to terms with a truth she had only vaguely understood. "It seems my mother’s past was far more than just memories. She believed in the possibility of time bending, but I never truly believed it until now."

I give a small, sympathetic smile. "I didn’t mean to intrude on your family’s history. I just had to share what I experienced. Maybe it will help to understand more about what your mother went through."

Mrs. Delgado nods, a mix of relief and sadness on her face. "Thank you for telling me. It’s strange, but I think it helps to know that there was more to her story than we ever knew."

I stand there, feeling a sense of closure, and a new beginning. The past and present have intersected in a way I never imagined. As I prepare to leave, Mrs. Delgado holds the old journal close, her gaze thoughtful.

"Thank you again for sharing this with me," she says softly. "It’s given me a new perspective on my mother’s legacy."

I nod, feeling the weight of her words. "I’m glad I could. And if you ever need to talk more about it, I’m here."

We exchange a final, understanding glance before Jack and I head for the door. As we step out into the cool evening air, I feel a strange sense of peace. The past and present are intertwined in ways we can barely understand, but at least now, there are pieces of the puzzle falling into place.