Page 2 of When I Found You

It’s the skyline I’ve known my whole life, but there’s something wrong. Instead of Freedom Tower, there are two identical towers stretching into the sky on the southern tip of Manhattan Island. The Twin Towers. The ones that fell on September 11th, 2001.

“No. They’re not there.” I turn and face the building. After several deep breaths, I spin around and take in the view once more.

They’re still there. The World Trade Center Towers stand tall against the sunrise.

I back up until I hit the wall. No, what’s going on? This can’t be right.

A garbage can in the corner catches my eye. There’s a newspaper tucked behind it. I rush over and pull it out.

Spreading it on the ground, I scan the headlines and search for the date. December 31, 1984. I read it over and over hoping it’s a joke, a prank. Someone’s mad at me for trying to kill myself, so they’ve decided to pull a fast one on me, show me how lucky I am or something stupid.

I stand up and spin around. No one. Nothing. No cameras, no phones recording my reaction. Not a goddamn thing. What the fuck?

I snatch up the paper and tuck it under my arm. There has to be a reasonable explanation for this. There has to be. I chew on my lip and run through the possibilities in my mind.

Damn. I’ve got nothing. The paper crumples under my arm. Okay, I need a minute.

One more peek to confirm I’m not insane. Nope. The towers are still there. I take three deep breaths focusing all my energy on filling my lungs with air. The cold stone beneath my fingertips grounds me. After several minutes, a calm settles over me.

I open my eyes and find the sun rising in the distance. The towers cast shadows over the city below. If I’m actually in the year 1985, then I haven’t been born yet. My birthday isn’t until June. Shit. Mom is pregnant with me right now.

What the hell is happening? I take another deep breath and focus on the facts I have. Where did we live when I was born? Dad. Holy shit. Dad.

Excitement bubbles up from the pit of my stomach. Dad’s alive. Tears fill my eyes. I can see Dad again. I cry out in relief.

Wait. Remember. What did Mom tell me?

Dad died when I was three years old. February 17, 1989. That’s more than enough time to find him. Where did she say he worked?

It hits me like a slap to the face. The Empire State Building. It’s why I came here in the first place. To find a connection to Dad. To have him talk me out of this insanity. In some strange way I wanted him to reach out and stop me, to give me some hope for the future. Is it possible he had a hand in this?

I shake my head. No. This is insane. All of it. I didn’t try to kill myself. I didn’t end up traveling through time. This isn’t 1985. I’m dead. This isn’t real.

“Ma’am?” a voice echoes across the small observation deck.

I jump and spin around to face the voice intruding on my existential moment with the universe. “Yes, sorry.”

“Ma’am, what are you doing up here? The deck doesn’t open for another two hours.”

“Oh.” I laugh and wave a hand. “It’s a long story. I’ll go.” As I head for the elevator, the man follows behind me.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” he asks as the doors close sealing us inside the elevator car.

“Yes, of course.” I clear my throat. “Why do you ask?”

“If you don’t mind my being blunt, ma’am, you don’t look well.” He pressed the button for the ground floor.

A memory flashes in my mind. The number fifty-four. I grasp it with both hands. “Would you mind pressing floor fifty-four? I forgot something.”

He eyes me suspiciously. I force a smile, and he shrugs before pressing the button I requested. When it stops, he turns to face me.

“I’ll be on the ground floor. Let me know if you need help with anything.”

The doors slide open. Nervous excitement churns in my gut. “Thank you. I will.”

I step into the hallway and turn to the left, unsure of which direction I should go but knowing I need to put some distance between me and the man who found me on the rooftop.

The elevator doors close and the numbers start declining on the illuminated panel over the elevator. I breathe easier.

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