That one day

I had to pee. I woke up in the middle of the night and walked the corridor to the bathroom. I was exhausted. I had not slept properly for weeks, and to make it worse, I felt like an old lady, having to visit the bathroom at least twice every night. With my eyes closed, I sat on the toilet and started to think about everything I was supposed to do the next day, or in three hours, to be more specific.

Things at work had been complicated at best. We were in the middle of a department restructuring, and I was supposed to make my case to keep all my team members intact. Based on the time I spent on it, the Excel file I had been preparing for the last weeks had become my best friend, and once I thought we were meant for each other-- when I had nailed all my numbers and prepared my case to take it to the administration-- my laptop had decided to crash and burn, bringing with it all my work. That had happened three days before, and now I only have one day to recover the file, create a new one, or look for another job. One day.

The IT person on the other side of the world, Sanjith, had assured me that my file should be somewhere in the cloud and that, despite being new, he should be able to find someone to help him locate it before my meeting at 5 pm the next day. If I wanted, he told me, the local IT department could loan me another laptop because before giving me a new one, they had to check if it was really "fried" or if there was a cure for whatever it had. He said that way, I could summarize the file I had lost. He was lucky, poor Sanjith, because if he had been before me, I would have punched him. "Summarize," he said. The file had so many lines and formulas, macros, and graphs that the thought of a summary could have transformed me into a She-Hulk. But he was on the other side of the world, and I was surrounded by managers, peers, and employees, and having a meltdown in front of such an exquisite bunch of people did not seem appropriate. So, I thanked him and told him I would speak with him the next day. Then, I smiled at those around me, I said, "IT," and someone gave me an inspired thumbs up.

That had happened by the end of the day, so I gave myself a break, put all my hopes in Sanjith, and after leaving my laptop in the local IT office for it to be analyzed, I went home with no energy or patience for whatever was waiting for me there.

I heard the screams as soon as I parked the car. I was still inside the vehicle and could recognize my daughter's voice, so I rushed out of the car and inside the house to discover my three kids arguing because of a Mario Kart race. I should have said something, but I was tired. My husband was preparing dinner and looked at me as if I had abandoned him in the middle of the desert with three hyenas.

"Good day?" I asked him when I kissed his cheek.

"Awesome," he replied, stirring the food in the pot.

"I need to lay down a bit; I might not have dinner," I told him, and that's the last thing I remember before having to pee at five in the morning.

I put my trousers on and realized I had not changed into my pajamas the night before. I was wearing jeans. I opened my eyes and looked at those trousers, which I recognized but did not remember. I had not worn those for many years. How the hell had I squeezed myself...? I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Had I lost weight? And my hair was longer and messier. I had a red tank top, and I looked terrific. How much time had I been sleeping? Was I dreaming? I pinched myself, and it hurt. No dreaming, I thought, and when I was about to leave the bathroom, it hit me: that was not my home!

I opened the door and ran into a corridor I immediately recognized. Then, I entered a big room where many people were sleeping—all but one, who was "swimming" on the floor.  

I've been here before, I thought.

I left the swimmer and entered another room. It had a bed, a side table, and a wardrobe. Poems were written on the walls, and post-its were everywhere. There was a little window on top, opening to the living room. That was my room.

I ran back to talk to the guy on the floor, who frenetically moved his legs and arms. "I'm late, I'm late," he repeated.

I knew him; I had seen this scene before.

"Francesco, you are okay. Tell me, what day is today?"

"I'm late for my sister's birthday!"

"Your sister is in Italy. You will catch a plane in one week. Where are we?"

"In Portugal, that's why I'm swimming..."

"You are swimming because you are tripping, and this is..." I had to breathe before saying it because I realized that maybe the one tripping was me. "This is my living room!"

Francesco opened his eyes and sat on the floor. He cleaned his glasses and looked around. Then, he looked at me.

"At what time finished the party?" he asked.

"Francesco, I don't remember. Can you tell me when we are?"

"You mean where? This is your house."

'Not where. I know where I am. When. What year are we in?"

He laughed and yelled: "The best year of our lives because we are Erasmus! Yeh!"

Right there, my knees failed, and I fell to the floor, making Francesco laugh even harder. Some people around us started to wake up. I had not seen any of them for more than twenty-five years.

"This makes no sense; I have to work; I have to get out of here," I said.

"You have to go to Spain for your final, right?" said Francesco.

"My what? No, not that, I already did that... not that, please..."

"You can stay here if you want," he replied immediately, but he soon realized that was not the answer I sought.

My heart was racing, and my head was about to explode. I closed my eyes and tried to make sense of what was happening. I was in the same apartment where I had lived in 2021. I was surrounded by people I knew in my Erasmus year. I was talking to Francesco on the same day that changed my life so many years before... I looked at my watch; it was seven-thirty. How much time had I spent in the bathroom?

"Francesco, I have to leave," I said, although I am sure he did not hear me because he was already lying on the floor and probably passed out. I did not mind because I knew he would be okay. I still remembered how funny his trip to Italy was—the trip he had taken so many years before, the one he would take in a few days. What was happening to me?

I entered my bedroom and opened the wardrobe to change my clothes, which were two sizes smaller than I was used to but fit properly. I had a nice body then, now... Aaargh!

I changed into a different pair of trousers and a white shirt and looked for my phone, which turned out to be a tiny white Alcatel, and my wallet, twice the size despite having nothing valuable in it. I did not even have a coffee, and when I was walking down the stairs, I remembered I had never had coffee in that house because we had no coffee maker that year.

It was chilly outside, and the humidity was so high that it seemed you were chewing a cloud. I had once heard this, but it had never made sense until I walked across the bridge over the Ria—a salty body of water connected to the ocean—on my way to the university. There was something I had to do, something I had done many years before and changed my life.

I knocked on the office door. I read the plaque: internship coordinator. No one replied.

I knocked again but still got no answer.

That's not how it happened, I thought while I walked to the department secretary. Once there, I asked the only woman working in front of a computer when the coordinator would arrive.

"She's not here today, dear. He's on holiday."

"No, cannot be; I'm supposed to talk to him."

"Did you have an appointment?"

I didn't. I hadn't.

"No, but it is important. I need to speak with him about an internship."

"I understand, but there is nothing I can do, sorry. He'll be back next week, though. You can try then."

She returned to her job, and I stayed there, unable to move. One week? I had no week to give, a laptop to find, a presentation to give, a job to keep... and a time-space question challenging to solve. I was lost in my thoughts when someone bumped into me.

"Sorry," he said while he walked towards the secretary.

Then, I overheard: "Will you give this to the internship coordinator? It's an urgent request. It's difficult to find students this time of the year..."

I turned. I recognized that voice. That was my first manager.

I walked towards him and touched his shoulder.

"Can I apply?" I said.

"Sorry?" Do I know you?

I had to bite my tongue. I couldn't tell him I knew about his ambitions, my job, his career... I couldn't tell him anything because, then, he would not hire me as his intern, and I would not get a contract later or become what I had become... what I had become?

"Hello?" I heard. The man was talking to me, and the secretary had some papers in her hands—probably the internship description I had read so many years before. Then I saw him looking at his watch.

"Sorry, I know you might be busy. I overheard, and it's not polite, but I am looking for an internship myself." I said.

"Are you a student here?"

"Yes, on Erasmus."

"Engineering?"

"Yes, electronics."

He looked at the secretary and smiled at me. I knew what that meant. He was curious.

"Is there a coffee machine around here?" he asked.

"There is a terrible one."

"That should do. Want to have one?"

"Sure," I said, knowing he did not drink coffee.

As we moved away from the secretary, I thought about how the Universe was about to put the puzzle pieces together. I would do what I had to do no matter what. I was about to find my way back home.

We were walking, and he was explaining to me what he needed from a student when I saw someone running in our direction. I was about to open the glass door for him to pass when he just continued, bumped into the door, and hit me. Then I fell, and everything went dark.

"Mrs? Mrs? Are you there?"

I held my iPhone in my hand, looked around, and saw no one. I was at my desk. It was dark outside, and the screen on my laptop flashed lime green.

"I've found it. I'm sending you a copy via email. You can also open it on your phone."

It was the IT guy.

I stood up and looked at my shoes, dress, and hair. I was "me," the "now-future-me." I rushed to open my mailbox and saw my glorious Excel file—all the lines, all the formulas, and every macro working.

"Thanks a lot, Sanjith."

"You'll still need a new laptop. That one is fried."

"Sure, thanks; I have to go now."

I left the office as fast as I could. I arrived home and kissed my children and my husband as soon as I entered the house. I did not care about the kids' screams or the dinner. I was home.

"Why don't you take your shoes off?" my husband asked. It will help you relax."

I sat on the stairs, as I always did, and took out my high heels. I touched my feet, and something hurt. There was a little hole in my pantyhose and a bit of blood in my shoe.

"What the..." I turned the shoe, and something fell—a tiny, tiny, shining piece of the past saying hello to me again.