Fifteen minutes into the taxi ride, I realized I'd forgotten to lock my door. I also left my phone on the table, thinking I didn't need it to help the crazy old cat lady. "Take me back," I said to the faceless driver. "I left my door unlocked and I need my phone."
"It's too late to turn back now. Besides, where you're going you won't need a cell phone."
"Where the hell are you taking me?" I asked. "I was joking about Paris. I don't even have my passport with me. Anyway, where's the flux capacitor and the Delorean?"
"This isn't a movie, Eric."
"Who are you? What's going on?"
"Sit back and enjoy the ride. Close your eyes and go to sleep. It's gonna be a long ride."
My heart raced as I frantically yanked at the door handle, trying to open it. I unlocked the door, but it still wouldn't open. Even if I could open it, I'd die if I jumped out at the speed we were going. I wasn't suicidal.
"Pull over," I said. "I wanna get out. I changed my mind."
"Relax, Eric. Nothing bad's going to happen to you. Sometimes you have to trust people's word."
"I don't have a problem trusting people."
"That's not what I hear. Do me a favor and take a nap. I gotta focus on the road. It's a bumpy road ahead."
I ignored the driver's request. Instead, I stared out the window, squinting, attempting to see something in the dark. It was impossible. The wind howled as we sped down an unknown highway.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep my eyes open, so I drifted off.
The taxi screeched, coming to an abrupt halt. I slowly opened my eyes, not sure how much time had passed. Judging by the bright sky, I'd say it was morning. Snow fell in big snowflakes. It was February when I left, and it looked like it was February where I landed. "Where are we?" I asked.
"Lowell," he replied, tossing a suitcase at me, followed by a fedora hat. He didn't turn around, so I still couldn't see his face.
"No, no, no. I live in Lowell. I've lived there my entire life, and this place is not Lowell."
"Look around. Within a few minutes, you'll realize you're in your hometown. Now hurry up and get dressed. Everything you need is in the suitcase."
"But I'm already wearing clothes."
"You have five minutes to put on a suit. Open the suitcase and put it on. You'll find shoes in there, too."
Annoyed, frustrated, and confused, I flung open the suitcase. "Where the fuck am I? I told you to take me to 1920s Paris. This isn't Paris. It's gotta be a dream... or a nightmare. Either way, I'm checking myself into the hospital as soon as I wake up. Damn... I don't think I've ever worn a three-piece suit. Why do I need to wear this, anyway? Where am I going?"
"Stop wasting time, Eric."
"I'm getting dressed, okay?" I snapped. "It's not easy changing in the back of a taxi. This place looks miserable and dreary. I hate snow."
"Here's your coat and gloves," he said, flinging a long coat and black gloves at me.
In the middle of tying the tie, the door sprung open. As I peered outside, I saw a man sprinting in my direction. He almost fell, skidding on the snow on his way to me. With his winter herringbone tweed flat cap, he looked like someone who'd just stepped off the set of Peaky Blinders.
"There you are!" the young man exclaimed. "You're late! I almost thought you weren't coming!" The young man stood in front of me, overly excited to see me, this complete stranger. If I had to guess, I'd say he was eighteen or nineteen.
YOU ARE READING
A Grateful Heart (ONC 2023; manxman)✅
Historical Fiction[ONC2023 Round 2 Ambassador's Pick and Shortlister] Getting over a loved one's death isn't easy. For Eric Gagnon, it's near impossible. A year after losing his sister, he's still struggling, questioning the meaning and purpose of life. He goes throu...
