Room 608

The Gilmore stood tall and elegant as it glittered in the sun when I arrived to set foot in room 608 for the first time. The moving-out-for-the-first-time jitters were taking hold. I was young and ready to be on my own without being under my parents’ thumb. I hauled what little of my belongings I had up to the sixth floor and slowly opened the door. It was smaller than I expected but perfect. As I slowly walked around examining the room, I remembered how the property manager told me how they fully restored the building to look exactly as it did when it was first built in the 20s. She elaborated further saying they kept the original tiling, doors, doorknobs, bathtub, sink, etc. I was impressed with how they kept so much of the original decorum. I had the odd sense of stepping back in time almost. That should have been my first clue.

My first night alone was scary but freeing. I had my mattress on the floor and cooked chicken ramen for dinner. I hadn’t unpacked all my things yet and I was bringing my furniture tomorrow morning. I was electronically challenged so I waited until the building’s maintenance man could set up my tv tomorrow when I brought the furniture. Instead, I was re-reading my favorite book The Count of Monte Cristo for the hundredth time. It calmed my nerves like lemon tea. It was exactly what I needed after such a long and exhausting day of moving. 

I don’t remember falling asleep. I woke up groggily with a splitting headache. I stretched and went to get out of bed to take some ibuprofen when I realized my bed had an iron-wrought bed frame and headboard. My eyes immediately popped open, and I was as alert as a watchdog. My bed had a frame now and there was furniture in the room. How was this possible? I began to panic thinking I had sleepwalked into someone else’s apartment, so I rushed out the front door to check the apartment number. 608. I walked slowly into the room not knowing where else to go, trying to slow my breathing. As I calmed my frantic brain, I started to notice unusual things. There was a gramophone softly playing Clair De Lune by Debussy; an antique, velvety pink loveseat with dark brown wood trim around it, lace curtains softly billowing in the wind, and an icebox in the kitchen. Then suddenly I was interrupted from continuing the list of unusual, antique furniture in my room by a soft, quick, rapping knock that came from my front door. I panicked and froze. I stood stock still for what felt like hours and then heard soft, clicking noises as the person on the other side unlocked my door. The terror was too much to bear, I made a run for it and hid in the closet full of silk gowns and white, cotton nightgowns. “Nattieeeee”, called a young woman. How does she know my name? I was too petrified to move. She called again exclaiming, “Nattie, are you home? We were supposed to meet at Ernestine and Hazel’s an hour ago!” 

Suddenly the doors to the armoire that was built into the wall of the closet opened. The young woman of about 21 had a short, blonde bob that was cut just below her ears with her hair swept to one side. She had Natalie King eyes of the most brilliant cobalt blue and thin, long eyebrows with a button nose and full, round lips. She had on a navy blue, beaded evening dress inspired by the flapper girl look, along with a navy blue, beaded headband with her small, beaded purse of the same color as her outfit, hanging haphazardly off her shoulder. She had a long pearl necklace and bright red lipstick on with her T- strap heel shoes on. She loomed over me tapping her foot. “Well, aren’t you gonna say anything?” cried the woman. I just stared at her gaping like a fish. “Nattie, what’s the matter with you?! I’ve been trying to ring you for hours and now you’re hiding from me! If you didn’t want to come tonight that’s all you had to say!” I just kept staring dumbfounded and confused. I didn’t even know her name! What did she mean if I didn’t want to come tonight? “Oh, forget it! You’re acting like a child! I’m leaving, you know where to find me if you decide to show up.” She promptly turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her. I sat in the armoire for another hour trying to comprehend what I just experienced and what was happening. The only explanation I could think of was I’m dreaming a very vivid dream. It was too fantastical for my analytical brain to wrap around. Either way, I wanted to get back to my own apartment and needed to figure out how to fast. 

I pinched myself a couple times, but I didn’t wake up. Realizing it really wasn’t a dream almost sent me into another full-blown panic attack. I was still in the same room that was mine but wasn’t mine. I began to search the room for any clues as to how I could get back or even how I got here in the first place. My search almost turned futile until I searched the nightstand drawer and found a leather-bound notebook. I opened it to the most recent entry to find my handwriting with the date August 27, 1926. I became dizzy and had to sit on the loveseat to regain my composure. August 27^th was yesterday’s date. The date I moved in and when I mysteriously ended up in this timeline. That explains the 20’s décor and the way that woman was dressed.  I felt numb. I was in the 1920s and had no idea how I got here or how to get back to my time. I scanned the entire journal to find entry after entry of the last 4 years. I decided to read my entries to hopefully have some clue as to what was going on. The first entry was this:

Dearest Diary, 

I visited Daisy today at Ernestine and Hazel’s, our favorite spot to go for drinks. We went shopping at Goldsmith’s Department Store after. Goldsmith’s is another favorite spot of ours. Daisy bought the most darling silk gown today. I couldn’t find anything I liked. We decided to go to the Tea Room, the restaurant in Goldsmith’s, for lunch. We spoke for hours. Daisy is my closest friend and confidante. I so needed our daily, long talk in the Tea Room.

I stopped reading and thought aloud “That woman who was here must be Daisy. I need to find her and talk to her. If I trusted her before I can trust her now.” I decided I was going to check Ernestine and Hazel’s first. I found the finest silk evening gown I could find and put it on. I found a feathered sage green headband and matched it with my beaded sage green, silk gown. I fished out my black T- shaped heel shoes and put on the softest pink lipstick I could find. I finished the look with a diamond necklace and earrings. I stood staring at myself in the long, white wooden mirror in the living room. I was astounded by the eerily calm cloud that had come over me. Maybe it was survival mode, but either way, I was resolved to find Daisy. 

I walked down Mclean Blvd and onto Union Avenue to get to Downtown Memphis where Ernestine and Hazel’s is located. These heels weren’t doing me any favors, so I decided to flag down a taxi to take me the rest of the way. After the taxi dropped me off and scrounging up some money, which I found in the small purse I brought along, I stood outside Ernestine and Hazel’s just staring. That eerily calm cloud wasn’t covering me anymore. I suddenly became nervous and noticed my hands and feet started sweating profusely. I forced myself to take a step and once I did, I knew there was no going back. I walked inside to the most electric atmosphere I’ve ever experienced. The band was playing a fast-paced blues song and you could feel the trumpets bleat in your chest. The people were talking loud and fast and passing shot glasses around like it was candy. The dance floor was packed with people doing the Charleston. I was pushing my way through sweaty bodies asking if anyone knew a woman named Daisy and if she were here. I pushed my way to the back of the room to find the blonde woman sitting at a table with people laughing and smoking cigarettes. I walked behind her and said, “Daisy?” She swung her head around and said “Nattie! Look who finally decided to show up!” I was relieved she wasn’t holding our last encounter against me. She shoved me into a chair and exclaimed excitedly, “So Nattie, this is Vincent my friend I told you about” She gave a not-so-hidden wink. “And this is Dorothy, Margot, and Thomas!” We all exchanged pleasantries and began to talk over cherry brandy and crème de menthe. The alcohol slowly but surely made me more relaxed as the night went on. I began to let my guard down and joke with them. After a while of this Daisy asked if I would accompany her to the women’s room. I felt that creeping nervousness come back and took a shuddering deep breath and said of course. 

Once we got to the bathroom, Daisy immediately said “So are you going to tell me what was wrong with you earlier?” Now I really was having a full-blown panic attack. I don’t know if it was the crème de menthe or needing someone to vent to about my current situation, but I spilled the beans about everything I had experienced that day. She stood there for a second and without missing a beat she says, “Oh, you silly girl of course I know this already.” I stood completely flabbergasted. I said “what?” Daisy then launches into an entire essay on how she knows my current predicament. “Well, the last time you time jumped, as we like to call it, you went to the 1960s. It really was so fascinating to hear your tales of what it was like. You must tell me how it is in- wait what year did you just come from?” It took me a minute to fully understand what she just told me. All I could do was answer her question and keep listening. “2022? Wow, that’s further in the future than you have ever been! Well anyway back to what I was saying. You told me all about how you traveled to the 60s and I was so sorry I couldn’t experience it with you. After going to Ernestine and Hazel’s one night over drinks, we concluded that you’re a time traveler who can time jump to different parallel realities. I mean that just makes sense, right? You go to different time periods, that’s time travel, but you only go to different time periods or realities, whatever you want to call it, by time jumping in your sleep and it must be parallel realities because its centered around different realities but in the same apartment room.”  I had to sit and chew on what she had just told me. I sat there for what seemed like ages thinking of all that she just revealed to me. Finally, she broke my silence by saying, “Are you okay, sugar?” I shook myself out of it and replied “Yes, but does that mean if I go back to sleep, I’ll time jump back to my reality?” “I wish I could say yes but from what I understand about talking to the version of Nattie I know, you time jumped randomly in your sleep and the time periods were at random too. At least we hadn’t talked about what pattern that could possibly be yet because your version of Nattie showed up and you can’t remember anything.” I was sorry I couldn’t remember her she seems so wonderful. I finally croaked, “I don’t remember you or even traveling to the ’60s. I don’t know why I don’t remember this time.”

Daisy’s theory on why I possibly couldn’t remember anything was because I’m time jumping too much. She told me about the experience I had told her when I time jumped to the 60s. It started out much the same as this one. I awoke in a bedroom that was mine but wasn’t mine in room 608 in the Gilmore and the decorations were as ’60s as they get. With “funky furniture” as Daisy said,  which made me laugh heartily. She said, “There must be a connection with that bedroom. There must be a reason you keep time jumping only in that room.” I agreed but wasn’t quite sure what that connection with the apartment was. We came to the realization that we had been conversing in the bathroom for way too long and it was time to go back out with the others. 

After rejoining the group, we gave our quick farewells and flagged a taxi down to go back to my apartment. Once we got there, we talked more about what I experienced when I time jumped to the 60s. Daisy said, “When you came back from that time jump, you told me your experience, and how frightened you were but calm at the same time. This wasn’t your first rodeo time jumping and I enjoyed hearing what you would do once you were in another time period. But I could tell you were keeping something from me. I wish you could remember what it was.” I asked her to keep telling me what I told her about my experience, maybe it would jog my memory. I wasn’t very hopeful, but I wanted to give her some comfort. 

Daisy told me I awoke in my apartment as always and decided to go out on the town. I noticed a pink Cadillac getting a considerable amount of attention until I realized it was Elvis Presley. He was in town for a concert and since I didn’t have any tickets, I decided I was going to sneak in. I went to the Hotel Claridge to watch him perform. I slipped in with a group of hippies and experienced a concert for the first time. It was exhilarating. I slowly started to remember my past. Over the course of the next week, I slept and never time jumped. But over the week, I remembered everything. I wish I didn’t remember the time jump to 1961. 

As I was recalling my memories of that time jump and the time jump to 2022, I remembered what I kept from Daisy. After the concert, I decided I was going to find Daisy even though she would be in her 60s by now. I was only going to watch and then leave but once I got to her house, it was foreclosed. I had that sickening feeling in my stomach. I frantically snuck my way into her house and looked for any clues for her but there was nothing. I went to the library to see if I could find any information on where she was living now. I found an article in the newspaper with a picture of my Daisy. It was her obituary.