Echoes of Another Life

Jessie watched a group of people dressed completely in black roam through the crowd giving out samples. They moved with economy giving the same spiel to groups of five or six; take this pill and you can travel through time. Individuals took the pill, and were gone as if they never existed; heads swiveled, looking into area shops and restaurants. Jessica wondered if they’d be missed, and if so by whom.

“What do you regret?” a clipped feminine voice asked.

She wavered; nobody had ever asked her that before. She generally avoided it because regrets led to the past, and she was dedicated to living in the present. But, as she watched friends marry, and settle with families it became one thing she regretted. “I should’ve gone to that party. I should’ve told him, I cared about him.”

A guy with his hair parted to one side, styled with so much hair product it shined under the mall’s florescent lights offered her a plastic cup with a single purple pill. “I think you’ve heard the speech enough. The pill is good for 48 hours, at which point its elements become inert. If you decide to take it, all will have to live with the consequences,” he proffered a brochure, and Jessie pushed it into her pocket for later.

She drove home with the small cup in the holder and took a pad of paper, and a pen. The idea of time travel had been perfected the year before. As scientists and ethicists debated on whether they should use it in the public realm, private companies started experimenting with it. She unfolded the brochure, which listed the pill’s ingredients on one panel. It biomechanical elements, which, would attach themselves to change brain cells in a way that would allow travel between timelines. Panels two and three listed side effects; disorientation, and the sensation of being in two places at once.

The examples listed on the back were personal; couples having two babies instead of one. Unhappy marriages that were undone, and farewells that were said. Everything the clichés said might be a regret. In the end, she decided on one line; No matter what happens, know that I love you,” she signed Jessie, and drew hearts, then added x’s and o’s below it.

She dressed in her pajamas then filled a glass of water. Rolling back the covers, she swung her legs into bed, and took the pill. She woke up disoriented in a familiar bedroom to the sound of voices arguing over which horror movie to watch first, as part of their annual Halloween tradition. 

“My DVD Player. My Remote. My final decision,” Sylvia stated. Syl was the youngest of four children, and the only girl. She couldn’t be heard above three older brothers unless she yelled. The other two, sighed and grumbled. She heard the clattering of plates and bowls and the click of the coffee maker’s switch. Clicking on a bedside light she took in her bedroom from where she lay; a queen bed in the centre of a long wall, desk under a window cluttered with textbooks containing florescent coloured sticky notes that marked different pages. A closet with clothes cluttering the floor in front of it, and drawers that were half-closed. She checked her watch; Tuesday October 27. That meant she didn’t have class until 3pm. Almost an entire day to…

“She’s finally awake,” Mary-Ann announced pushing her door open, hopping onto the bed beside her. She had hair as thick, and blonde as the day they met; a healthier version of the woman Jessie last saw while crossing the street one day on the way to work.

“Did you dream about Craig?” She asked in a singsong voice. Despite being from a prominent local family, Mary-Ann lived on campus for the full campus experience.

Jessie smiled. “No.” Dirty- blonde hair, green eyes, a dimpled smile; one of the best looking, and friendliest guys on campus. He flirted with all the women, making it hard to take him seriously.

“You really should do something about that man, before he’s off the market. Come to the party. He’ll be there,” Mary-Ann shifted to her side, propping her head up on her hand. Her family held an annual Halloween masked ball every year on devil’s night at their country estate in wine country. She wasn’t going to go this year, in order to study for her science mid-term, as well as a lack of a costume. Her bedroom floor was a casualty of being unable to find an outfit.

“The offer of a gown is there if you still want it,”

“I’ll take you up on it,” Jessie agreed.

“Our first fitting is tomorrow; it’ll be a girls’ day. Syl, and Grace are coming too. Mary-Ann bounced with excitement as she left the room. Jessie couldn’t remember the last time she enjoyed time with girlfriends. Having that incentive made it easier to study, and then sit through the three-hour lecture that afternoon; her only class that day.

Jessie still suffered from a feeling of disbelief. Time travel was real, and she was here, days before her last chance to tell him she loved him. She absorbed the chatter, and the tinkling laughter as they teased back and forth. It’d been a long time since Jessie felt such camaraderie, and regretted allowing these friendships to fall out of her life.

They pulled into the circular driveway and the chauffer was beside the door letting them all slide out one side. Jessie took in her surroundings with fresh eyes; a brown-red brick house towering over the driveway, expansive green manicured lawns rolling into the distance. Scents of lavender, and roses on the wind from a back garden. Mary-Ann led the way through a kitchen door, dropping a kiss on the top of her mom’s head.

“She only brought twenty dresses this year,” Carolyn Margrave informed her daughter. Mary-Ann pulled a face.

“Thanks Mrs. M, that should be more than enough to make my decision,” Jessie replied. She valued the Margrave family’s generosity.

“At least one of you is grateful. I need to go and help your father supervise the tents. You know how he is about details,”

Mary-Ann led the way through the hallways. They found the designer, and her seamstress in a seldom-used sitting room, with several racks of dresses. Jessie gravitated towards red, and navy blue; both colours that suited her dark hair.

“Pick two, and we’ll decide between them as a group. No theme this year, just whatever looks good.” Mary-Ann winked at Jessie as she fingered the dresses; one with cap sleeves, and the other with a one-shoulder.

“Those are nice. You’re up first.” Jessie heard conversation buzzing as Mary-Ann advised the other two on what looked good, accessories, and what mask could go with it. Jessie pulled the navy blue one off its hanger and stepped into it, leaning forward to zip up as much as she could before rejoining her roommates.

“Oh… Grace started

“Wow… Syl added

"That really sets off your skin, and eyes combo,” Mary-Ann finished from behind her zipping the dress into place.

Jessie folded her arms in front of her to keep from pulling at it to cover her body. The skirt billowed out at the waist down to the bottom.

“Best of all, there’s almost nothing to be done to alter it,” Myrna, the seamstress continued.

“Your silver earrings will add the sparkle. The skirt’s long enough that you could wear those cute black boots you love so much,” Mary-Ann styled her.

Jessie felt the cool air of the room on her neck, as Grace lifted up some of the thick black hair. “Half-up, half down,” she said. She nodded to all their suggestions, picturing the final look.

“The matching masks are on the table below the window,” the seamstress pointed out. Jessie picked brought an all-silver confection, with navy blue, and dark purple flowers to her face, and showed friends the finished look.

“How can you not fall in love with that?” Syl remarked.

“You should model,” Myrna added. Jessie pulled the mask down and smiled under the praise.

“That’s me settled,” Jessie decided. Myrna bustled about packing away the dress as the others showed off theirs, and decisions were made.

The party was on Devil’s night; this year a Friday night. Jessie felt the weight of a textbook in her hands as she drank champagne, and heard the strains of her study playlist even as a live band played in front of her. The one thing anchoring her to the present was him. She watched him move through the crowd. He went renaissance for his costume; a scarlet feather from his hat making him stand out against a backdrop of muted colours. Mary-Ann gestured to Jessie, leaning against the railing, and she pulled the mask close.

Jessie traced his progress up the stairs, as said hello to friends, and stared straight ahead as he joined her. “You look stunning,”

“You’re not so bad yourself. I might have gone without the hat,”

“I rather like the feather, makes me stand out. It’s quite jaunty,” Craig couldn’t hide the laughter in his voice.

Jessie leaned sideways against the railing. The banter was so easy with him; a continuing conversation, whether they’d seen each other an hour before, or a month before. The two of them were alone among a crowd of others grouped around standing tables in quiet conversation. It was now or never. “I’m in love with you,” In the ensuing silence, she forced herself to breathe deep, squeezing the railing to ground her.  She turned back towards the crowd downstairs holding her mask across her face.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say something,” he echoed her pose, his hand covering her own as they stared at the dancers below. “It’s a first time for both of us, with these feelings; and it’s always the guy that screws it up. I figured, if you took that first step it sends the message that you’re comfortable,” he squeezed her hand.

“What now?” She asked. His lips brushed the back of her hand.  

“Half a semester left. We see where we go from here,” the mask dropped to the floor behind her, and he pulled her into a kiss.

She fell asleep in her dorm room, a smile on her face, and awakened in a strange silk nightgown, in a house she didn't recognize. A note was left on the counter in clear male handwriting. “K- gymnastics meet” written on a wall calendar under the date. That’s where he must be with whomever K was… ‘Katherine’; the name came to her, and a flash of a hospital room surrounded by doctors, and family.

The calendar year’s date was five years from where she left.

She picked up a wedding photo on the table behind the couch; candid of her and Craig laughing at something.  Physical proof of their marriage, and she recalled the event. But there was no feeling behind. No satisfaction, or happiness. “Might take up to one month for users to acclimate themselves to the timeline,” she repeated a line from the brochure. The bitter, acrid smell of smoke came into her nostrils, and her hands shook as she replaced the frame on the table. The scent brought with it the image of a slip of paper floating in the air.  She caught sight of the message she’d left. The price of her great new life, was being haunted by what she left behind.