About Time

“No, Ana, you really don’t have to worry about me. I think I’m going to be okay.” The sharp strike of a knife left musical periods at the end of Liadan’s sentences. The early November sun streamed through the windows of her parent’s home, lighting the whole place. Ana’s tone didn’t match the enthusiasm her friend was espousing. “Yeah, but come on, Lia. You can move things with your mind? What the hell. You’re not totally freaked out?” Liadan stopped cutting the various carrots and celery assortment to look at her friend, sitting a few feet away at the kitchen table. Analise was giving her a look, one that Liadan didn’t have to read her mind to know what she was saying. A month ago, the flow of this conversation would have had a different dynamic entirely. In fact, the calm demeanor with which she was handling it surprised even herself, but acceptance had peace. “Of course I’m totally freaked out,” Liadan said, emphasizing her words and closing her eyes for a moment, her hands resting on the countertop, knife still in her right hand. “But either I deal with it, or I don’t. There’s not really a way around it.” Or maybe blind optimism was a sign of madness and she just wasn’t recognizing it. It was probably impossible to know when you were actually crazy.

Analise didn’t reply. Instead she fidgeted with the long ruby red ponytail she had over her shoulder, twisting the ends, staring at them and frowning. The sunlight made the color pop. She lived four hours away, in a small town north of the big city Liadan resided in, but after Liadan had poured everything out to her a few nights before, Ana had insisted on coming to visit. The telekinesis, the telepathy, how she’d been locked up with David (kinda) and still had no memory of how it happened. It had been a long phone call, made while Liadan sat in her car in the driveway two days after the whole thing happened - the length of time processing took - choking back tears and making sure nobody came outside looking for her. In some ways, Liadan felt like she was still in a dream and hadn’t awakened; having someone morph into another person in front of her more than once was probably the key to this feeling of unreality, but the last four months were also contenders in that contest.

Liadan resumed chopping the vegetables, letting her thoughts wander. She was still learning how to control her abilities, and deal with the actuality of them. She didn’t feel any different than she had before they begot themselves, but the exhaustion of having them was still a thing she was trying to figure out how to deal with. If adrenaline wasn’t constantly pumping through her system, she would definitely invest in consuming more caffeine.

“Whatever,” Ana said, eventually. “I know I’m not really sure how to react to this, so god only knows how you’re making it through.” There was a bowl of chips on the table they had been snacking on, and Ana began eating them, waves of nervous tension pouring off of her. She wore multiple rings on each hand, and her nails were painted dark purple. Ana and Liadan had been friends for a long time, but Analise grew up a military brat, so they hadn’t seen each other much once they hit their teens. Every time Liadan saw Ana it was like she was a whole new person, always changing her hair color and style. Their bonding factor was the fact that both of them had weird names no one could pronounce: Analise’s parents were Wiccan. Sometimes Liadan wondered if that was the only thing that had held them together as friends as they literally grew apart.

Liadan sighed, not responding. She was glad to have someone to talk to, but if Ana was going to stress as much as she was now, Liadan wasn’t sure she would be able to sleep until Ana left; sometimes if the emotions were strong enough on a person, she sensed them before trying to read their thoughts. It was a side effect of the telepathy, like an announcement before the words formed in her brain.

She began to throw the vegetables into a frying pan, the oil had been heating throughout their conversation and it sizzled with each drop of a veggie.

“Why are you doing that manually?”

Liadan didn’t even look at Ana. “What?”

Drop, sizzle. Drop, sizzle.

“Why are you using your hands to cook?”

Liadan glanced up, but continued working. “What are you talking about?”

Drop, sizzle. Drop, sizzle.

Ana’s tone was a mixture of teasing and skepticism. “If you’re really telekinetic, why aren’t you just making everything cook by itself?”

Liadan wasn’t sure if she should be insulted or if she should laugh at the suggestion; the thought never occurred to her. Maybe because you can’t pretend to be normal if you’re constantly showing the world that you’re not. “I…I’ve never thought of that,” she said simply. “So try it.” Ana stood up and came around the corner, a mischievous look in her eyes. Liadan looked at the frying pan, the last of the vegetables crackling and popping. They did need to be stirred. Why not test herself?

Next to the stove, Liadan’s mother kept a clay vase full of cooking equipment; wooden spoons, whisks, spatulas. It was easier to find things if they were in plain sight, her mother would say. It was also easier to use your powers on it if you could see it, Liadan thought wryly. She stared at the spatula, imagining it rising into the air. To Liadan’s relief, it did so without much beckoning. It rose clearly out of the clay vase, hovering over the other utensils. Liadan imagined it coming down into the vegetables, and just as she thought it, the spatula did as she wanted, tossing and flipping the vegetables to mix and turn.

Ana squealed in delight. “I knew you weren’t pulling my leg!”

“You didn’t believe me?” Liadan almost shouted, her eyes on the spatula. She wasn’t sure how much mental focus she could take off of an item before it stopped moving.

“Well, it’s just…” Ana trailed off. She twisted the end of her ponytail. “I don’t know. I didn’t not want to believe you. It’s like when you hear ghost stories. You want to believe but until you see one, you’re still a little skeptical.” She looked at Liadan, eyebrows raised and the beginnings of a ‘oops’ smile on her face.

Liadan was elated; she had never done quite anything like this. Calling up her powers and using them when she wanted, in full control.. She felt powerful. Though she had been training with Prof. Craven, she’d mostly been learning to control the voices in her head: that didn’t make her feel the way this made her feel. Suddenly a world of possibilities opened up in the form of productivity. Never having to complain about only having two hands again wrapping gifts would be a snap (possibly literally) and making Thanksgiving dinner? A piece of cake (also something she could probably do).

She looked sideways at Ana, who was now staring at the floor, still twisting the end of her ponytail. “Let’s up the ante, shall we?”

Ana’s face brightened. “What are you planning on doing?”

Liadan grinned playfully, her eyes on the frying pan. She took a step back from the burner. The spatula floated out of the vegetables and laid to rest on the counter. The frying pan then rose into the air, and began tossing the vegetables. Red, orange, and green blurs rose into the air, as soon as some landed, others were there replacing them, roasting pops and steam escaping with every rise and fall of the veggies. Ana squealed in delight. Liadan’s smirk got just a touch bigger.

“What’s going on in here?”

Color drained from Liadan’s face as she looked up to see her father standing in the kitchen entrance; she must have been so enraptured in the cooking and showing off that she hadn’t heard him come in. He was the quintessential father: shorts and Hawaiian shirt were his every weekend attire. He had a full beard, the same dark chocolate brown shade as Liadan. He stood just in the entrance of the kitchen, holding a stack of cookbooks. His face was jovial, but all Liadan could think was her brother and mother weren’t far behind. The frying pan immediately dropped, Liadan’s attention no longer on making sure it stayed in the air.

“We’re cooking, Mr. Ryan,” Ana said, being the only sensible one to say anything as Liadan went to catch the frying pan. It missed the burner and started falling to the floor; Liadan scrambled to catch it. She missed the handle and cupped her hands to catch the food. It was a mistake. She completely forgot that the food was hot and searing pain shot through her palms as hot oil and fried broccoli, peppers, and carrots fell into her hands.

“You scared me!” She squeaked, as Ana exclaimed her name and crouched next to her.

Liadan heard her mother’s voice, echoing what her father had said just moments before. “What’s going on in here?”Liadan didn’t reply, just made pained faces at the hot food in her hands and Ana quickly stood up and started searching the cabinets for a plate. Tears started to escape Liadan’s eyes and she looked up to see her parents coming around to the front of the stove just as Ana finally found one. “Liadan,” her mother began, staring at the mess on the stove. “How did you manage to knock the frying pan off the burner?”Liadan put the vegetables on the plate Anna held for her and Liadan saw her dad lean over and turn the burner off. Tears were streaming down her face, the burn sending screaming pain through her now useless hands.

Ana answered for her. “She was trying out flipping everything while holding the frying pan. You know, just like the experts do it. She was pretty good, too.” She added, casting a glance down at Liadan. Liadan just stared at her hands.

Her dad started to laugh, and Liadan’s mother stood up to get first aid supplies. Ana and Liadan just looked at each other. Ana giggled.

~~~

“It seems to me,” Debi began, her hands hovering over Liadan’s. “That you’re more a danger to yourself than anybody else is to you.”

A warm sensation went through Liadan’s hands. It was comforting and pleasant, all pain seeping out of her wounds. There was a very faint glow emitting from Debi’s hands. It was a much different experience from the last time Debi had healed her, but she wondered if the feeling changed with the severity of the wound.“I think quickly on my feet.” Liadan said, pursing her lips. “Why didn’t you just drop the vegetables instead of burning your hands?” Aaron asked, seated across from her in the recliner. They were in Professor Craven’s living room again, and Liadan resisted looking around, the memories of the last time they were all there were still too vivid. Still, she couldn’t help but notice seasonal colors sprinkled throughout the space. Red, brown, and orange in the cornucopia by the fireplace, and the coffee table in front of her had mini pumpkins and pinecones surrounding a single, yellow, pillar candle. It burned brightly and scented the room like cinnamon. “I, uh,” Liadan pulled her attention away from her handles to look across at Aaron. “That didn’t occur to me.”

Aaron sniffed and looked at his phone. “Must not be that quick thinking, then.”

Liadan frowned and then shrugged. “I caught it quickly. That’s as far as the thinking went.”

“All done,” Debi announced, standing up from the table they’d been seated at. “That’s amazing,” Liadan oohed, staring at her hands. They looked like they had never been burned in the first place; her skin was pink as if it had been gently rubbed. She ran a finger up and down the palms of her hands; they were cool to the touch. Even though she knew everyone had abilities, she was still amazed whenever she watched someone use theirs.

“She does a good job, doesn’t she?” David chimed in, watching Liadan’s amazement at her newly healed hands. He was leaning back on the windowsill near the mantle, one foot propped on the stonework. “When I wasn’t so good at practicing, Debi used to heal all my burn wounds.”

“He’s still not very good at practicing,” Debi added. She smiled at David, who in turn gave her a look that said, very funny.

Prof. Craven walked in before David could respond and immediately went to the middle of the room. “How is everyone today?” He was dressed as he always was, in pressed and straightened slacks, long sleeve button down shirt, and sweater vest. Today it was a bright, cheery yellow color. It was obvious he had just come from the school, carrying his briefcase and his glasses hanging around his neck. Murmured responses of “good” and “fine” came from around the room.

She took a deep breath. She had been having some thoughts about moving forward with her…journey? Task?

“Professor?”

Professor Craven put his glasses on. “Max is fine, Miss Ryan.”

“Right,” she threw out dismissively. She could only get used to so many things at a time. “I was wondering how many more of us are out there? Could we gather them together?”

“Everyone is already gathered together,” said David, leaning forward on his propped up knee. “We know who we are. There’s a whole council of us.” He opened his palm face up, gesturing with his next words. “I mean, they don’t know about you yet.” He glanced at Max, who returned the look with an expression Liadan couldn’t quite read. “Indeed they do not.” Max left it at that, turning his attention to the front of the room towards the kitchen.

There was a loud pop noise and all of a sudden, Christopher was there. He was dressed in clothes from the past: a long tunic and leggings of bright colors that accentuated how thin and scrawny he was. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, which surely would have fallen off as he shook himself. Aaron had said that he was doing research. Liadan assumed that meant in the library. She stared, slowly realizing that he hadn’t been in the library; he hadn’t even been in the same year. “Anything?” Aaron picked a fly twig off of his letterman jacket.

“No, I didn’t find anything. It’s hard to look and maintain a cover.” Christopher took glasses that Gina ran up to give him, and Liadan realized she hadn’t been aware Gina was even in the house.

Aaron said, “So Liadan should go. She would have better luck with her power, anyway.”

Liadan sat up straighter. “I don’t even know where that is, much less how I could use my power.” The word felt funny on her tongue, like a foreign language that had an accent she just couldn’t get right. She was also only vaguely aware of what was going on, in face, she was beginning to feel even more out of the loop, as if there had been plans made without her, or a group text they hadn’t added her to. She knew that the main reason they had these meetings were to figure out how she would bring down the Unnamed (another foreign language term that felt ridiculous to use), and how she could find the stones, but sometimes she didn’t have full details. If it was true she was the “chosen one,” than it was becoming more of an annoyance than anything else.

“This is your job, Miss Ryan.” Prof. Craven considered the option, speaking evenly. “Who would be a better choice?”

“But,” David sat up straighter. “If she goes and something happens to her, then what? We’ll be irrevocably screwed. Shouldn’t someone go to protect her?”

“I’m going.” Christopher said simply; he didn’t seem at all offended that David hadn’t thought of him.

Debi frowned at her brother, “It’s one of Liadan’s tasks. It’s part of her journey as the chosen one. If she dies, then it’s likely she’s not the one.” Debi looked around the room after that and shrugged. “It’s just the truth of the matter.”

“It would be much easier if she could do the looking,” Christopher offered. He sat down on the floor by the coffee table, seemingly unbothered by his attire. “There’s enough questions about who I am and why I’m there to field without worrying that someone else is sliding by unnoticed.”Liadan leaned back on the couch in exasperation. “Does anyone want to tell me - the person whose job this is - where I’m supposed to go and what you’re all talking about? It sounds like you want me to travel with Christopher to go back in time?”

Max nodded.

“Are all the stones hidden in the past?”

“No.” Max answered her. He briefly glanced at David, who shifted on the windowsill and looked away. Debi, too, avoided eye contact. Max continued, “Someone has already used that stone and it exists no longer. You will have to go retrieve it before it was ever destroyed.” He clasped his hands. “You will go back in time to the last place in recorded history that we are aware of the stone being.”

“When?”

“The sixties,” Christopher said, his hands rested calmly on his crossed legs.

“What? No,” Liadan sat up a little straighter. “I mean, when are we going to do this?”

Liadan’s mind immediately began spinning with all the things she would need to do. She had the final draft of a research paper due in the next week. Where were they going? What did she need to do to prepare? Prof. Craven gave her a kind smile, knowing her thoughts without reading them. “Tomorrow. Christopher needs time to rest, and you should work on that paper.”

---

Liadan flopped onto her bed, watching her ceiling fan as it went round and round. Ana was sitting cross legged on an inflatable mattress, flipping through a magazine. “So when do I get to meet them? Your super friends.” “I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it,” Liadan replied, her fingers strumming on her stomach. She hadn’t mentioned the time travel plan yet to Ana. Mostly because she had just gotten home, but also because instead she was worried about how exactly she should mentally prepare herself. What would she wear? Should she pack anything? Did Chris have money? They had to have money to pay for food, right? Or maybe they weren’t going to be there long enough to need food, so that would just be an extra burden.

“What about tomorrow?” Ana asked. She turned another page and stopped to smell a perfume sample. “I don’t think I’m going to school tomorrow.” Liadan replied absently, the air from the ceiling fan blowing wisps of her hair.

“Don’t you have a test?” Ana stopped flipping through the magazine. “That’s the whole reason I’ve been stuck in here reading every Cosmo you own. All I’ve learned is the best ways to workout with my lover and how to tell if he really likes me.” She looked up at Liadan and gave a simpering expression, a mock sincere hand touching her chest as she raised her eyebrows hopefully. Then, rolling her eyes, she tossed the magazine on the floor. “Why wouldn’t you go?”

Liadan bit her lip. “I have to travel somewhere.” Her new strategy for handling this new way of life was going about as she was told until she could figure out how she felt and where she stood in it all.

“Where are you traveling to? Can I come?” Ana’s voice broke Liadan’s thoughts.

“What? No, I don’t think so, An.”

Ana frowned. “Why not? What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” She shifted on the mattress, bringing her knees up and resting her forearms on them. “I’m already bored out of my mind while you’re at school, and I’m only here for the week.”

“I don’t even think you’ll notice a time difference,” Liadan said thoughtfully, still staring up at the ceiling.

Ana stood up. “Ugh, Lia, stop being vague! What’s going on?”

Liadan propped herself on her elbows, matching her friend’s demeanor. “I…I have to travel with Christopher,” she paused. Somehow voicing it made it sound so cheesy and unreal and that’s not what she wanted. The whole thing was an exercise in using words that felt vestigial and silly. “I have to travel with him back in time. To retrieve something. I don’t know. I’m not very good at asking questions because I still always feel shocked.” Liadan could hear herself speaking, using broken sentences and pouring out everything she had been thinking of on the ride home from the latest meeting, and she didn’t like it. She sounded like a nervous young girl and not the strong leader she was hoping she would be. Or, at least, what she thought everyone wanted her to be. Ana, for her part, just stared back at Liadan. Her lips were parted, as if she were trying to speak but no words were coming out.

Finally, “How are you going to go back in time if you’re not even sure how or the why?” She put her hands on her hips. “Liadan, this is your life. I know I don’t understand it, but why don’t you? I mean, for Christ’s sake.” Ana began to pace. “Aren’t you some kind of chosen one? Do you even really know?” Ana held her hand, palm up, out to Liadan as if the answer were going to fall into it.

Liadan sat up, staring at the outpouring of emotion from her friend. Annalise had always been more emotional than Liadan, but she rarely went off on her.

Ana put her other hand out now and then spread them wide. “Lia, if I had powers like you, I would want to know everything. Every detail. You have a huge responsibility and you don’t even know what it is. You’re going to mess up if you don’t get answers.”

Liadan didn’t reply. There was nothing to say; Ana was right.