Blogger note — I had said “tomorrow”, but I ended up needed an extra day just to process. And by “process” I mean, “write yet another essay for Thought Catalog.” But it’s a new day and hopefully things can go back to somewhat normal.
Back from the Future: A knock at the door catches you off guard. Upon answering it, you’re greeted by a man who says he’s from the future — and he can prove it. More important, he says he has information that will save your life.
“I’m from the future,” he said. “Come with me if you want to live.”
I stood in my doorway, cocking an eyebrow at the man in leather pants and a dirtied lab coat — like he couldn’t choose between Doc Brown and the Terminator.
“I’m not kidding,” he pressed. “I’m from the future. And I can prove it. But first you must come with me.”
I turned and looked back at my kitchen. My coffee had just finished brewing. Toast was resting in my toaster getting cold. I was still in my PJs.
“Please, you must come with me.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes.
“Fine.”
In my fuzzy slippers, I stepped out onto my front porch and followed the random man. I continued down the path away from my house, my PJ shorts doing little to keep out the cold morning.
“You said you could prove you were from the future,” I said.
“Tomorrow, it will rain.”
“Well, that makes you a meteorologist — or someone you checks the Weather Channel,” I replied.
“Something horrible is going to happen you to — that is, unless I can stop it,” he said, turning left onto a side street.
“What is that something horrible?” I said, my eyes locked on my shoulder as I readjusted my tank top strap.
“I can’t say.”
“Oh,” I said flatly. “Well, if you’d excuse me, then, but I think I have to…”
“Please, you must stay with me,” he pressed.
I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. We circled around my neighborhood in silence. I kept my eyes on my neighbors’ houses, hoping to find someone checking their mail or getting their newspaper — anyone I could possibly flag down to call the cops. Before I could plan out a proper exit strategy, we were back at our house.
“You can go in now,” he said.
I tilted my head toward him with my lips pressed and brow furrowed.
“You came all the way…from the future…to take me on a walk?”
“And by doing so, I have altered the course of history forever. You’ll thank me in ten years,” he said, readjusting his lab coat. “Well, technically you won’t, because the future has been changed forever.”
I rolled my eyes one more time.
“Well, thanks for the walk, I guess,” I said, surreptitiously slipping off my slippers and treading barefoot through the grass on the off chance I would have to make a run for it.
“Never underestimate the butterfly effect, Susan!” he called out.
“My name is Bridgette.”
The man’s face dropped.
“Oh. Shit. Um…” the man cleared his throat. “I mean, in the future, you changed your name to Susan, because something horrible happened! Now, if you’d excuse me I have to…check over some files…”
The man bolted from my front lawn, dirtied lab coat flapping in the breeze as he disappeared from my street. With a sigh and a shake of my head, I went back inside, poured myself a cup of coffee, and placed two fresh pieces of bread in the toaster.
That (Not This) Abby Rose 