Still the Same Night

Aimee crashed into the hillside, feet tangling in the long grass. She rolled once and came to a stop face-up. Above her, stars twinkled in a familiar way that instantly flooded her with a sense of relief. 

She didn’t know any constellations, but she did know that this sky held only the one moon. She was home. 

Dew had already seeped into her jeans by the time she sat up. She thought she caught the last glints of energy from the portal, an absence of light darker than the nighttime air. Then, it was gone, leaving just her and this almost too-familiar hillside. 

Below where she now sat, a simple chain link fence stretched along a well-mowed field lined with metal bleachers. Aimee had played soccer there in another lifetime. Not another lifetime, she reminded herself. The witch had promised to return her to the same night she’d left. Not the same place, apparently, or she’d be at the cafe where she worked during winter breaks. But the high school soccer field looked almost exactly as it had when she’d graduated two years before. 

She brushed herself off and stood. Who knew what time it was, and her mother might be getting worried. The thought of family caused her stomach to lurch unexpectedly. What was that? Homesickness? Fear that they would realize she’d been gone for more than just the one shift, maybe. 

The town’s streets felt bigger than she remembered. Flatter, too, and somehow a little bit harsher. Probably the blue-tinted light from the lampposts. Aimee hadn’t seen an LED light in months, and her eyes were taking a while to adjust to the lack of flame-powered lanterns. She clutched her arms to her sides as she walked. 

Aimee approached the home as if she were in a dream, feeling more as if she floated than actually touched the ground. She’d dreamed this exact thing many times. Almost every day since she’d been transported to that other world, she had wanted nothing more than to come home. If only Rose felt the same way. She pushed the thought out of her head quickly. 

The door opened with a faint, instantly familiar squeak. Aimee stepped inside gingerly. A small part of her was afraid this would all disappear. She’d wake up and be back in her bed in the other world, feeling grass poke at her back and listening to Rose snore. 

Instead, a voice called out. “Aimee, is that you? You’re home a little late.” 

Instinctively, Aimee glanced to the wall clock in the living room. 10:00. Two hours after end of shift. Months of her life, and maybe an hour total here. The witch really had fulfilled her promise. 

Now it was time for Aimee to uphold her end of the deal. Tell no one. “Hi, Mom! Shift ran long.” Her voice sounded phony and high in her ears. Aimee took a deep breath, stepped inside, and turned to face the kitchen. 

Her mother sat at the table, pressing little gingerbread molds into dough. Her dark brown, graying hair hung loosely around her shoulders, and a cup of tea steamed up into the air between them. 

“Aw, I’m sorry. If you’re not too tired, I could use some help finishing up here.” She gestured to the cookies. 

Aimee tried to answer, and found a lump in her throat blocking the words. The edges of her vision became blurry. Hold it together, hold it together, she chanted silently. 

When she didn’t respond, her mom looked up from the cookie cutting. Her eyes immediately narrowed in concern. “Are you all right? Weren’t you wearing something different earlier?”

She was in fact wearing Rose’s clothes, because Aimee’s outfit had long since disintegrated and all of their new stuff in the other world didn’t blend in here. But she had already prepared an excuse for that one. The rehearsed line was surprisingly easy to get out. “Oh, yeah. Rose let me borrow a spare change of clothes, one of the machines broke and spilled coffee all over me. It took forever to clean.” 

“Long day, then,” her mom said, looking only a little less worried. Aimee almost thought she detected an edge of disbelief there. “Why don’t you go and get changed, and I’ll make you a cup of tea before bed?”

Aimee nodded wordlessly. She turned away from her mother, walking through the living room and back to the hallway where the bedrooms were. The carpeting under her feet felt unnaturally soft, the surface beneath that unnaturally hard. She’d spent too long walking on only dirt and wooden floors. Everything felt a little bit off, when she looked at it closely. The blue walls seemed a tad too bright, the wood paneling on the ceilings ever so slightly too shiny. It was the plastic, maybe. 

Her bedroom door hung open, from when she had rushed out in a hurry because she was late for work. She remembered that morning like it was yesterday. That was good, she supposed, because technically that morning was actually today. The bedroom itself smelled like coffee from the cup left on her dresser. And her bed, though unmade and covered in blankets, had never looked so inviting. 

She turned her attention to the mirror. Aimee hadn’t properly seen her reflection in quite a while. Rose’s jeans were a little bit too big on her, though she suspected that before they first fell through the portal this would not have been the case. She had clearly lost a little bit of weight over the course of the journey. Her hair looked mostly the same though, still black and shoulder length. Overall, the differences didn’t seem like enough to draw any attention.

Taking off the jeans and purple sweater she wore almost felt like a betrayal. It was weird, re-entering this world without the person she now considered to be her best friend. Of course, before everything happened they had just been coworkers and maybe old high school acquaintances. But Rose had chosen her path. She didn’t want to come back, and while Aimee would never understand why, it was a decision she had to respect. 

She carefully folded the outfit and put it on her desk. Selecting a set of pajamas was overwhelming, all bright colors and incredibly soft fabrics. She went with the two softest things she could find: a fleece Cuddledud shirt from her grandmother, and a worn pair of cotton pants with the Cheetos logo printed all over. Looking at her face in the mirror again, she tied her hair into a loose bun. 

Without shoes on, the carpet felt a little bit scratchy. Aimee tried to ignore the sensation. She pulled up a wooden chair next to her mother, who had moved all of the cookies onto a baking sheet. A second mug of tea now accompanied the first. 

“Thank you,” Aimee said, reaching for the cup. She gripped it with both hands and let the warmth seep into her fingers. Already, things were beginning to feel normal.

“So,” her mom said expectantly. 

“So?” A pit dropped into Aimee’s stomach.

“You went to Tjeter.” 

It was a statement, not a question. The pit dropped farther, exploding into glass shards that left a blue prickly feeling through her whole body. How did she know the name of the other world?

“I—“

“I can tell.” Her mom suddenly seemed more intense, a different person from the woman making gingerbread cookies for the neighbors. “They swore you to secrecy too, didn’t they?”

“I, um, how—how do you know about Tjeter? Have you…”

She answered the question that Aimee was too floored to ask. “Years ago, before you were born. And they told me that they would never try and take you. God, those bastards.” Her voice shook ever so slightly. 

The floor seemed to have fallen out from under them. Aimee stared at her mom, unable to comprehend. This had happened before. To her own mother. And they—Aimee didn’t even know who they were. She had been told the portal opened as a freak accident. But if it had opened before…

“How long were you there?” The question interrupted her musing. 

“Uh, months. Like five or six. It’s been a long time.” Her brain finally managed to catch up and begin asking her own questions. “How long were you there?”

“Around the same.” Her mom ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face. The look on her face almost seemed like anguish, like she was genuinely distraught. “Drink your tea,” she reminded Aimee absently. “And tell me everything that happened.” 

“What happened when you were there?” She obediently raised the cup to her lips, but couldn’t bring herself to take a sip just yet. 

“You first, then me.” 

“And then what?” It hadn’t felt like that was the end of the plan. 

“Then,” Aimee’s mom sighed, pulling her own mug of tea a little bit closer, “then we figure out how to get back there and demand to know what’s really going on.”