Time Flies

Sitting on the couch in her second floor apartment overlooking the main street in Raleigh, North Carolina, Marlowe watched the New Year’s Eve ball drop in NYC on TV, pondering the year that was soon passing into the dust bin of history. It was a very disappointing year. Her freelance writing career was struggling as not one of her articles were accepted by any magazines. Worse, her boyfriend of two years kicked her to the curb for some young 19-year old bimbo, which acounted for her being alone tonight. The small room was enveloped in grief.  

The ball finally hit the bottom just as the clock struck twelve midnight. 2020 had arrived and the bedlam erupted! As Marlowe watched the celebration there in Times Square, she thought, Such silliness! She continued in a soft voice, “What really has changed for them other than the year?” She felt sadness at the thought of so many people living empty, purposeless lives, drowning that fact in senseless revelry. She vowed that she would not be one of them! At 31, Marlowe vowed to be a “woman with a cause.” Now all she had to do was find one. But first, a good night’s sleep. And with that the TV and all the lights were turned off and off to bed she went. As she pulled the covers up, she prayed, “God, help me find a cause that will change the world, even if it’s just a little bit.”

As the morning dawn sneaked its way through the closed shade, Marlowe’s eyes slowly began to open. “Good morning 2020!” she shouted. “It’s going to be a great year, a year of purpose and destiny! I can feel it!”

Marlowe jumped out of bed and stretched out her lean 5’7” frame, then strolled over to the window to see if the world had changed any in the first hours of the new year. In truth, she really didn’t expect to see anything new. But as the shade rolled a few inches past her eyes, Marlowe’s jaw dropped almost to the floor and her eyes became like flying saucers. “What…the…hell?” she muttered. There sprawling out miles in all directions was a city she had never seen before. But more than that, she quickly assesed it was an old city, a very old city, from a time long past. From the cars and trollies to the clothing people wore, Marlowe gasped as the images of this new world came rushing at her, shocking her senses. She had no mental grid to interpret what her eyes were seeing. 

“This must be a dream!” she said. Yet, it felt nothing like any dream she had ever had. She rubbed her eyes and pinched her arm several times but the unknown world just outside her window did not change. She stepped away and looked around her apartment. At least, she thought, this is the same as when I had gone to bed last night. In 2019 that is! But where she was now—or the year—she had no clue.  

Marlowe stood in the middle of her apartment and pondered what she should do next. “My cell phone!” she shouted. “That’s my ticket back to reality!” She figured by making contact with either family members or friends, that that would burst the alternate world she found herself. She grabbed her handbag from the kitchen table, pulling her cell phone out, and called her girlfriend, Carrie, first. To her dismay, after entering her number, all she heard was a weird static sound. She called her mother next but, again, only static. She next tried calling her phone service carrier, but that line was dead, too.

“God, what is going on?” Marlowe cried. She was feeling fear now as the reality of her predicament was deepening. Holding back panic, Marlowe frantically weighed out her options. Finally she concluded that she had to remove herself from the confines of her apartment where the dream wouldn’t dissipate no matter what she did. But when she opened the dresser drawer to pull out a pair of jeans, she starred in amazement. None of her jeans or pants were there, only a drawer full of heavy backseamed nylon stockings. She closed the drawer and rapidly opened the others, and found strange articles of clothing—all of which were not hers! 

Marlowe then walked over to her bedroom closet and, like her dresser, all of her shoes were gone and in their place were a few pairs of Mary Janes and T-strapped shoes. Likewise, gone were all her clothes, replaced by an array of stripped, checkered, and plaid dresses that she had never seen before. And when she looked up on the shelf, there were a number of cloche hats. She surmised that all of these articles of clothing were popular at the turn of the century in America. Marlowe was now getting an idea of the time period she found herself.

 Strangely, this was actually beginning to make sense now. “If this is a dream or if I’ve have been thrown back in time somehow, a girl can’t walk around in denim jeans. I’d quickly draw the attention of everyone and maybe even get arrested for indecency.” She starred at the dresses and figured, “To blend in, it would appear I have been provided with everything I need. But do all these clothes fit?” Marlowe surprised herself as she actually started to laugh at the thought of dressing up and venturing out into—the past. To her amazement, the dress she chose and the shoes and hat all fit perfectly. Marlowe checked herself in the mirror and giggled again, impressed at the lady that starred back at her.

She was now ready. First she drew the shade of the window down and walked to the door. Grabbing the knob, slowly she opened it and peered out. The dream remained intact. She again saw nothing that looked even remotely familiar. No carpeted hallway, no bright track lighting overhead, no elevator in view…nothing. The hallway was dark, dimly lit only by the light coming in from a few windows, and the floor was bare. The entire interior of the hallway, she noticed, looked like something out of an old black and white movie, maybe from the 40s. Slowly she stepped out and walked down two flights of stairs to the front door. As soon as she opened it, Marlowe thought, This definitely is a city, judging by the press of people on the street and the towering skyscrapers that surrounded her. And she apparently did a good job of dressing up because no one paid any attention to her as she strolled past stores and shops. 

Marlowe’s first order of business was to find out what city she was in and what year it was. She spotted a newspaper stand at the corner and almost ran up to it. She eyed the few papers on the racks and quickly discovered where she was, as she picked up a New York Herald. Starring in disbelief, there right under the name of the newspaper was the day and year: January 1, 1920. “How the hell did I travel back in time 100 years—to the day?” She laughed when she saw the price of the paper in the corner: two cents! She put the paper back and walked on.

Her next stop was in front of a dress shop but she didn’t linger long because her attention turned to a large gathering of loud women the next block over, weilding signs and chanting things she couldn’t discern. Marlowe curiously made her way over. She looked up and saw that the women were camped outside the massive town hall of the city.

She was near enough now to read the signs. One read “Vote Yes on Women Suffrage”; and another “Equal Voice for Women.” Marlowe apparantly had stumbled upon a women’s protest! She was no history buff but she did know that for a long time women were not allowed to vote in America but through sheer courage and determination, were eventually awarded that privilege. She walked up to one of the women and tapped her on the shoulder. The woman turned around and Marlowe said loudly to be heard over the shouting, “Excuse me, I’m new in the city. May I ask, what all this is about?”

The woman looked at her surprised, and said, “We’re fighting for what we believe is a woman’s right to vote. You’re a woman. Join us! We need every voice for this cause.” The word “cause” hit Marlowe like a 2X4. Wait! Marlowe said to herself. The pieces were beginning to come together in her head. I’m pretty sure women were granted the right to vote—in 1920! Before going to sleep last night, I vowed I’d find a cause to fight for in 2020—and somehow—I have no idea how—I think I have found it 100 years…in the past! Her thoughts were broken when the woman said to her,

“My name is Alice, Alice Paul. What’s yours?”

Marlowe was going to say her name but stopped, wondering if “Marlowe” was too unusual for this time period and offered “Mary” instead. “My name is Mary Stanton.” Marlowe continued, “Alice, I am going to join you in this fight! I know you don’t know me, but is there a time today that I can speak with you and maybe some of the other women about all this?”

Alice thought a moment, then said, “This gathering will be wrapping up in about an hour; then myself and about ten others will meet in the backroom of a nearby cigar shop to talk about how the day went. Why not come to that?”

“Perfect!” Marlowe replied.  

The hour struck 5:00pm and the women began hugging each other and dispersing. Marlowe felt someone grab her hand—it was Alice, who said, “Come with me,” and together they walked over to where the meeting was going to be held. 

Marlowe discerned that Alice was indeed one of the group’s leaders, as she warmly embraced every woman as they entered the backroom. Then she said, “Daughters of this revolution, I want to commend you for your participation in what has been a monumental day! I hope you noticed as the men in that town hall watched us from the windows. More so, they HEARD US! Our collective voice is growing louder by the day and is being heard not only in our town hall but also in the halls of Congress in Washington!” Alice paused as wild cheers and clapping broke out. She continued, “We will gather here tomorrow and I have some instructions about that but first I want to introduce you to a new friend of our movement. Her name is Mary Stanton. I invited her here because she wants to learn more of who we are and what we’re doing.” And with that Marlowe found herself thrust in front. 

Marlowe said, “Ladies, I know none of you here know me and for that reason you may not want to listen to what I have to say. And what I have to say undoubtedly will sound like I’m a mad woman. But…I’ve been sent here to inform you of something very important. Alice was quite right about your voice being heard in Washington. In fact, this year, 1920, our government will officially grant women the right to vote.” A hush fell over the room, as the women looked around at each other, murmering softy. Someone blurted out, “Who are you and how do you know this? And you said you were sent here; who sent you and sent from where?” 

Marlowe thought, O boy, but continued, “The reason I know this is because,” she stopped, knowing what she was going to say next was going to be almost impossible to understand, let alone believe. “Because…I’m not from this time period; I’m actually from the future, 100 years to be exact.” That was all Marlowe could say as raucous laughter erupted. Alice broke in, “Quiet down, ladies.” She then turned to Marlowe and said, “Now, Mary, I invited you here because you told me you wanted to know more about us, but I would not have if I knew you were going to waste our time with such outlandish claims.”

Marlowe fully anticipated this. How can I convince them? she wondered. My handbag!  

“Listen, ladies, I know what I just said sounds absolutely crazy. But let me show you some things that may convince you that I’m speaking the truth. Look at my handbag. Ever see anything like this, anywhere?” All eyes zeroed in on Marlowes tri-colored, leather handbag. Not one woman could say she had ever seen anything even remotely like it. 

Sensing the group getting more impatient, she next pulled out money from her change purse: bills and coins. “Come up and see what money will look like in 2020. And check the dates.” One by one women came up. They grabbed bills and examined them closely. They picked up the coins and each one admitted having never seen such currency. Marlowe glanced around the room and could feel the tension easing.

She showed other things but the most powerful item came last. Marlowe took out her cell phone and while it had no service connection, it did have photos; but more so, it could take photos! 

Marlowe held it up and said, “Ladies, this little item is a cell phone, a phone from my era. Now I can’t call anyone because it needs special towers and other things that have yet to be created. But on it I have some photos of me and places I’ve been that you might find interesting. Some are of my trip to New York! Come see what your city will look like a 100 years from now.” And they did so, crowding around Marlowe and starring in amazement as what was undeniably futuristic pictures of New York—all in glorious color!

Marlowe continued, “I’m now going to show you a special feature of this phone that I think you’re all going to enjoy. I’m going to take a color photo of you.” There was an awkward, giddy smile on the face of every woman. “Gather closely together here.” Marlowe took the picture. Then she stepped to the front of them and held up her phone. The ladies’ eyes grew large and they couldn’t stop starring at the picture. For minutes.

Slowly, one by one, the suffridge women came to believe the seemingly unbelievable. No one could explain the items Marlowe pulled from her handbag, especially the thing called a “cell phone” and the photos in it which now included the New York League of Women Voters. 

A short-statured woman walked up and stood beside Marlowe and linked arms and said, “I’m not sure I speak for everyone here but I just want to say, I really don’t give a damn if you’re from the future or drunk. I believe you! You have given me hope—maybe all of us hope—to fight on and not give up! Thank you for coming here...wherever the hell you’re from!” The room broke out into laughter and collective affirmation.

Alice also spoke up, “OK, Mary, we believe! What do we do now?”

Marlowe said, “Keep doing what you’re doing because it’s working. I don’t know how much time I have with you but if I’m here permanently or just one more day, I will stand and fight with you! You need to know this, the labors and sacrifices each of you have made for this cause will forever alter the course of this nation—and will inspire countless other women for decades to come to stand for women’s rights and the rights of others equally oppressed." Those words were greeted with hugs and a few hours more of talking, especially endless questions of what life was like in 2019.

Alice finally said, “Ladies of destiny, I’m sure we’re all tired and it’s getting late. Thank you again for bringing your voice today! And thank you, Mary, for your inspiring and hopefully prophetic words. We look forward to your participation with us—for however long that is. Go home now, girls, and get some rest from this quite amazing day and we’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Close to midnight, Marlowe exited the cigar shop, turned and made her way back to her apartment, slowly, trying to process the unbelieveable events of this day, 100 years in the past. She reached her apartment and began to get ready for bed as she was exhausted. But first a little wine to toast her day! She poured herself a tall glass of her favorite Australian Malbac, then walked over to the window where her day—or her 100 years—began. She raised the shade and gasped! There sprawling out miles in all directions was Raleigh, 2020, the world she had left behind for a day. Or was it longer? She had no way of knowing. 

Marlowe smiled and said, “My, how time flies!”

One bright morning in August, 1920, Alice Paul woke to a New York Times newspaper hitting her in the head from a smiling husband. She looked at him in bewilderment, then sat up and grabbed the paper, unfolding it. Her eyes bugged out as there in bold capital letters the headline—which stretched from one end of the paper to the other—read: 

“US WOMEN GET VOTE!” 

Alice bounded out of bed, throwing her arms around her supportive husband, and wept. The memories of the years of heartache and disappointment came flooding back. Then she remembered Mary. No one ever saw her again after that fateful night. Alice smiled and said, “Thank you, Mary, wherever the hell you are!”