Sinking

The Shock

I sit bolt upright. Crisp sheets settle around me. 

Where am I? 

I stare in disbelief at the wall - real drywall! Without a single crack! I turn my head. There’s a dresser, a pair of sliding closet doors, and a vanity. My eyes settle on the face in the mirror. I gently touch my cheek, and my reflection does the same.

Is this a dream?

The angles of my face are softer, rounder. My skin is clean, with no trace of dirt or sweat. My fingers are delicate and callous-free. I’m like a teenager again.

After another moment, where I am sinks in. It's my old bedroom from my parents' house. To confirm, I look out the window behind me.

It is the same view I grew up with, a steep driveway roofed by tree branches. One bows lower than others, unable to hold the weight of all the bright-green leaves. It had been weakened by a heavy snow the winter before, I think. To the left of the driveway, my mother's roses are just starting to bloom. 

I sink back down onto my bed, struggling to process this. The house hasn’t even been habitable in six years. I haven’t actually lived here in even longer. Not since I was a teenager, really. 

My door opens and my older sister barges in without knocking, just like she used to. I freeze, staring at her, too shocked to hear what she’s saying. 

“Hello? Lucy? Anyone home?” she says, an irritated expression crossing her face.

Jolting out of my trance, I launch myself out of bed and fling my arms around her neck. “Emma! Emma, it’s you! It’s really you!” I sob with joy.

“What the Hell?” Emma gasps. “What’s gotten into you?”

I step back, wiping my face with my pajama sleeve. “Oh my God, I’m dead, aren’t I? Is this Heaven?”

“Jeez, Luce, I only moved across town. It’s not that big a deal.” Emma straightens her blouse, which I had rumpled in my excitement. “God, how are you going to handle going away to college in the fall?”

“College?” I repeat, blankly. It makes no sense. If I’m not dead, if I’m really 18… How? “This is so weird,” I mutter.

“Did you sleep okay?” Emma asks. She looks concerned now.

“Yeah. No. I don’t- I wasn’t asleep. I died. But I think I got, I don’t know, a second chance.”

“That was just a dream, kid,” Emma says, patting my shoulder. “Now get dressed, or we’ll be late.”

“Late for what?”

Emma lets out an exasperated sigh. “For brunch. With Mike. Wear something nice, we’re going to Lavande.” She leaves, shutting the door behind her.

I go to my dresser. I wind up my heart-shaped music box that I bought at a thrift shop when I was sixteen. It has “Planchette Waltz by Henry Atkins” engraved on it. I took a class once (or will take a class, I guess) that recommended listening to the same music while taking a test as you listened to while studying for it. Maybe listening to this familiar tune will help me transition back into this part of my life.

I open one of my dresser drawers and pull out a satiny, blue shirt. My mom likes this shirt, she says it brings out my eyes. I start to hum the waltz as I retrieve a skirt. I dress in this simple outfit, and add a necklace for good measure.

I sit at the vanity. My reflection is distracting, I want to examine every tiny detail of myself. I force myself to ignore that urge and just brush my hair. I open the left-hand drawer of the vanity, but close it again because it’s the wrong one. The right-hand drawer is the one that holds my hair bands. I choose a scrunchie. 

Gradually, memories return to me. I just graduated high school. I have been accepted into UC Berkeley, among other schools. I’m going to get a BS in computer science, and apply to grad schools for a Masters in statistics. But I won’t get to go to grad school, because the collapse will happen four years from now. Higher education will be a luxury we can’t afford anymore.

I shake my head, dismissing the shadows of the future. I need to focus. We’re going to brunch with Mike. Who is Mike?

Of course! Mike was Emma’s fiance. But they’d only been engaged for about six months when she-

I can’t even think the words.

If this is the year 2020, Mike and Emma have only just started dating.

I take a deep breath. I am presentable, and I’m as oriented as I can be right now. I’m ready. Just as soon as I brush my teeth.