He looks slightly terrified.
“No, I thought you meant until my break was over. As to the other, your guess is as good as mine. The longest I’ve heard of any Lost staying put is about eight years, and that could have been a lie. We could be gone at any time. Every weekend I give Micki notice.”
“Very considerate of you.”
“Yes, but now he ignores me.”
“So how does it work, this time travel stuff? Do you have to step some through a portal, fold a bend in time, open a secret door or wardrobe or something?”
“Nooo. We go to sleep and when we wake up we’re some place different.”
“That’s not nearly as interesting as a portal. And I suppose it doesn’t have to be in the light of the full moon either?”
“No. And no I can’t go back and kill Hitler as a child either.”
“That was not my next question, although it was on the list.”
“There’s a list? Because I’m down to three minutes. And no, I’ve never met myself in the past, and no, I’ve never been further ahead in the future than I am right now. And no, I didn’t get to meet Elvis either.”
“I bet you say that to all your intrepid gumshoe reporters. What I really want to know is, can I come with you?”
********************
It turns out that I don’t get to answer Luke’s strange question because Penny spills a whole pitcher of boiling hot soy milk all over the place and I rush to help her clean it up and then make an ice pack for her burned hand. I never should have left the frothing job to an amateur. By the time I have convinced Penny I can handle the rest of the shift alone and she goes home, I have a whole new line of customers. I can see Luke still sipping his coffee, but after a while he gets up and leaves, catching my eye long enough to wave. I spend the next three hours making drinks that would offend manly men and when Micki comes in to relieve me, I’m tired and the spot on the back of my neck feels as though it’s been twisted into sailor knots. I sink into the most comfortable chair available and wait for Israel to pick me up. I hope Prue cooked a big dinner and I hope with equal fervor that it doesn’t involve squirrels.
I wait and wait, my eyes as tired as my feet, but Israel never comes. Finally, at half past seven (before her burnt hand, Penny had volunteered to work a double shift – thus, it fell on me), I use the phone in Micki’s office. Seeing as how we don’t have a phone in our little brown house, I have to call our neighbor lady, Gladys.
“Gladys? It’s Sonnet from across the street!” I have to yell into the receiver because Gladys is rather deaf.
“Who? “
“Sonnet Gray! From across the street!”
“Oh, hello, dear. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Gladys. Would you peek outside and see if Israel is home?”
“Who?”
“Israel Rhode!”
“You want to know if he’s home?”
“Yes, please!”
“You say you live in the house across the street?”
“Yes!”
“And is Israel there?”
“I don’t know! That’s what I need you to find out!”
“Well, why don’t you look around, dear? He’s a large man, I’m sure you won’t have to look very hard. Did you check under the beds?”
I sigh. My feet hurt, and Israel had promised me earlier that he would pick me up in his car. Israel is the only one with a car at our house and even though he is a terrible driver, it beats walking. “That’s a good idea, Gladys. I’ll check under the beds. Goodnight!”
“Goodnight, dear! It was lovely talking to you, please call again soon!”
“I will. Goodbye.” I hang up the phone and leave the office. I can’t help but look around the busy shop for a glimpse of someone with yellow blonde hair or a red dress, but my efforts are fruitless. I exit through the doors in the back and start my trek home. It’s nearing autumn and the leaves are turning and falling to the ground, the weather is still a bit humid and warm, but with enough of a breeze, a cold- blooded person would want a jacket. It’s an overcast day, so even though the sun is up, it’s darker than it should be. It feels like a late summer thunder storm is coming. A small pile of leaves swirl in a tiny funnel cloud