as1.e3 – Unreflected

as1.e3

Unreflected (Mazzy Star)

            The day after Thanksgiving, which while not yet as infamous as it would become, still had deals that attracted large crowds and repelled people like me. I woke up early, even before River, and found myself with nothing to do. I stayed in bed awake for a while, thinking about places and times I could revisit next. I needed help remembering all the important days and establishing my own timeline to help me better navigate it, so I eventually got up, went into the living room, and dug out the 1990-1993 photo album.

            Olive was a bit of an archivist—a perfectionist when it came to it, actually—so all of our family photos were in chronological order and labeled. Which was to my benefit.

            I flipped through and stopped at an embarrassing photo of me and River during our first Halloween in Royal Valley. I was dressed as a witch and, for reasons I still didn’t quite get, he went as a farmer. The costumes weren’t what made it a bit of a lame time, though; we still weren’t that familiar with the city, so we just trick-or-treated in our apartment complex and felt rather ashamed and disappointed by the end of the night.

            It wasn’t really a moment I needed to return to. But, heck, maybe I should simply stick around and enjoy the ’92 holidays. It wasn’t like I had to jump around all the time. What kid wouldn’t want to relive their seventh Christmas? That’s some prime joy.

            After about a half-hour of reminiscing, I got off the couch and decided another guitar check was due. I really wanted to start practicing before I got rusty. I dragged it back out of the closet, only to find that I still couldn’t quite touched every string.

            That was when Olive’s bedroom door opened suddenly, giving me a fright before she stared at me under her messy hair. Smirking, she said, “Cute, Maze. You like that old thing, don’t you? Well… it’s good you’re up, because we’re going to the mall after all.”

            “Why do we have to go to the mall for the first time today?” River complained from the front seat as Olive was denied a space in yet another lane in a packed parking lot at the pre-Westfield Valley Mall. He yawned and added, “Besides, didn’t you hate the malls in Chicago? Always going on about ‘corporate greed’ or whatever…”

            Olive took a sip of her coffee and replied, “Sometimes they just can’t be avoided, Riv. Besides, there is some convenience to them when you gotta do holiday shopping at different places. And, well… we can only afford a new dishwasher because of this sale at Sears. They better still have it. I’m as tired of washing dishes as I’m sure you both are.”

            “Olive, it’s the Friday after Thanksgiving. Everything is on sale. That’s why this place is nuts right now! Look at this mess. Why’d that dishwasher have to crap out on us, anyway? It only worked for, like, a few months after we moved in!”

            “That’s a few months longer than I expected; the thing was always on its last legs. You doing okay back there, Maisy?” Olive asked and looked at me in the rearview.

            “Sure,” I said, taking in the sight of the busy holiday season. Then I realized there was something I never knew for certain about this trip, and I replied as Olive got lucky and slipped into a spot, “Where’d the cash come from? Are you paying for it yourself?”

            Olive chortled in that telling ‘as if I could afford it’ way and answered, “No, Dad wired the money. I was waiting for it to arrive but wasn’t sure it’d be here in time. When I checked this morning, surprise, we can afford a major appliance! Anyway, we’re here. Ya guys ready to see our new mall?” She turned the engine off. “Everyone bundled up?”  

            “Sis, it’s like, sixty degrees out…” River muttered.

            “Right. I keep forgetting. Reflex, I guess. Hey, if I have any money left over, maybe you two could pick out a couple presents for Mom and Dad.”

            “A shower head would be a boring, but very practical gift,” I remarked dryly.

            “Ha-ha, Maisy. And I’m sure the installation would be a breeze.”

            We got out of Olive’s shoddy old sedan to step onto the even more dangerous parking lot. It seriously looked like half the town was here. And upon going through the doors, I was the only among us to stop for a moment and take in the sight of the mall at peak capacity and dressed for the holidays, with its cyan and magenta neon lights fully on. My siblings had been in more impressive malls, but for me, I was seeing a place that had become a shadow of these golden days by the 2020s. Still alive, but not like this.

            We had used the southern entrance, away from the food court and the arcade where a Sam Goody used to be—and it was a shame we had missed it at Royal Valley, as the store was one of Olive’s teen hangs back in Chicago. While this mall may have not been as big or showy as what we were used to, I had always found its grand concourse area to be quite nice for what it was, and the place gave me its share of good memories.

            The centerpiece of the extensive holiday décor was the large tree in the middle of the sunken floor, which sat under sweeping skylights and the clear blue California skies. Then there was the rideable train that went through a snowy landscape for the tykes, and of course, the seat where Santa took requests and got photos taken with kids, with the aid of a pair of elves. The line was small at this hour, as most folks were more concerned with grabbing anything that was on sale before stock ran out. Oh, the pre-Amazon days.

            “Hey, Ollie,” River said as he took off the scarf he didn’t really need in the first place. “Maybe Maisy should see Santa. I think Mom and Dad would like the photo.”

            Our sister eyed the Sears at the other end of the concourse anxiously, but did find it in herself to stop mid-step and ask me, “Do… you want to do that, Maze?”

            I couldn’t remember what I originally said here, but I was pretty sure that no pictures of me sitting on the lap of an old guy in red existed, so, no need to change that.

            “No, it’s okay,” I said. “I’m, um… not asking for that much for Christmas.”

            “Okay,” she sighed out in relief. “It’s fine if you change your mind later. Let’s hurry up and get to Sears, then. We can take it easier after we buy this dishwasher.”

            As we went by the kids waiting in line for Santa, I noticed one young boy who, for whatever cosmic reason, had decided to wear his Showbiz Pizza Place shirt today. I shuddered, just a little, at the now much fresher memory.

            Thinking about memories, it was strange how they worked while time traveling. I was sharing my mind with my other self in a complicated way maybe no one could fully explain to me, and by doing so, I was remembering things—places, events, and faces—that “Maisy Prime” could still recall but that had long ago been overwritten or left to rot in a forgotten corner for my adult self. I had to wonder what secrets I might discover in that way, or how I’d see certain lost memories through my older perspective. If I were to take my time and experience, say, at least one day of each month of every year, would I be flooded by buried recollections? Could they be enough to, perhaps… change me?

            The mall during the holidays wasn’t the place to ask myself existential questions, so I shoved all of that away to better enjoy the moment. As we got close to Sears, I took notice of a sprawling wall-sized banner nearby, like the kind used to hide a vacancy.

            There was a concept painting of King Arcade, along with an early version of the Arcade Prince mascot. In bright, “fun” lettering were the words, “Coming in 1994! Your New Video Game Paradise!” Of course, the opening would actually be delayed until ’95, but I could remember the hype train picking up speed all through 1993. I still sometimes considered if it would’ve chugged even faster had the park paid for licensed characters. Then again, Nintendo and Sega were already pretty protective of their IPs in these days.

             “Olive, look,” River said and tugged at her arm. “I heard some kids talk about this just before winter break. They’re starting to build a big amusement park here.”

            Olive smirked in her playful way and replied, “Oh, yeah? Those are some hard-working kids. Why don’t you go help them out? Maybe you can assemble the coaster.”

            River rolled his eyes and groaned. “Ugh. You know what I mean… It’ll be pretty cool having a theme park around. Think we could go when it opens?”

            “Too early to say, Riv. But we did have a theme park ‘around’ before. Six Flags Great America, remember? We went when Maisy was a toddler, and you threw up.”

            Having no memory of the story, I couldn’t help but snicker and reply, “What rollercoaster did that happen on? Did it get all over Olive, or other people?”

            “Maze!” River huffed and went red in the face. “It wasn’t like that. I just… I got too excited about the whole day while eating food. Anyway, we only went there once.”

            “Because it’s expensive, buddy,” our sister reminded. “Besides, you’ll never beat the experience of the first visit, so I think those places lose value each time you go.”

            We walked under the big blue sign for the Sears anchor store, and wow. With the way that the place looked now, it was hard to imagine how much their empire would fall within just a couple decades. In a scene ripped out of some archival nostalgia footage taken from a 1990s dad’s camcorder and posted on YouTube for posterity, the joint was abuzz with shoppers and attentive, hard-working staff. As one of the original department stores that sold a bit of everything, it was a natural first stop for adventure-seekers still recovering from turkey hangovers, who were willing to risk their sanity and wallets.

            “You guys are not getting lost. Hands, both of you,” Olive said and put hers out.

            River thought himself too old for hand-holding, but given the crowds, it did serve a practical purpose today. We found the major appliances section, and Olive threatened our arm sockets when she saw the deeply-discounted model of dishwasher that we were after. She tugged us over and didn’t see anything about it being sold out, so she let go of us in order to try and wave down a sales rep to secure it. For a few minutes, River and I had nothing to do but look at early 90s boxy appliances as she scheduled the delivery—which I was fine with, honestly. Reliving any of these old experiences was fascinating.

            “Olive, can I go look at the sports stuff?” he eventually asked. “I promise I won’t leave that part of the store. Maybe there’s a sale on catchers’ mitts or something.”

            “Ooh, fine,” she agreed. “But don’t make me look around for you. And if Maisy’s coming with, you need to hold her hand, okay? She already got lost in a Sears before.”

            I had? That wasn’t one of the “Maisy moments” that was really talked about, and I had no memory of the incident. It must’ve happened when I was pretty young.

            I tagged along with River, and while he gave the popular video game section a passing glance as we went by it—we did have an original Nintendo at home, but he wasn’t much of a gamer quite yet—the aisle with balls and bats was what really lit his eyes up at his age. Nine and ten-year-old Riv was all about his Little League team, which he was really proud to get into. But I realized, as he was giving an aluminum bat a tap, that the timing of his joining the team was a little weird. Had I never questioned it?

            “River? How come they let you onto your team in the fall season?”

            “Huh?” He turned and looked at me curiously, probably surprised I even cared at seven. “Um, well… A couple players dropped out, and the coach needed replacements so they could keep competing. I got in pretty easy, but I’ll have to do the full tryout in the spring. Until then, I’ll probably be benched most of the time. But it’s still fun. I like the team spirit, and just hanging out.” He considered whether or not to tell me a little more, and added sheepishly, “I didn’t know this until we started playing, but… the Sun Dogs has the most girls on it, of the city’s four teams. We got five.”

            That’s right. I could never forget Penny—River’s teammate friend who, over the years, jumped back and forth between being a buddy and a potential little crush.

            I grinned mischievously and asked, “Does that mean you got a girlfriend now?”

            He groaned. “Oh, yuck, Maze. No way.” He was briefly lost in thought. “Nuh-uh.”

            “I got the dishwasher!” Olive said a few minutes later, after she found us looking at the video game shelves. As she could do, she went from smiling to scowling in a split second and scolded River, “But I told you to wait in the athletic section! Argh. Anyway, it’ll be delivered next week. Exciting, right? So… you ready to see the rest of the mall?”

            “Hey, Ollie, do you think I should’ve asked for a Super Nintendo instead?” River replied as he watched a couple of kids our age having fun with the demo unit.

            “What? Aw, Riv, you’re just being impulsive. You’ve been wanting baseball stuff and a scooter all year. Besides, we already have a Nintendo. You don’t need the latest and greatest version, do you? You might even get a new game for it under the tree…”

            River sighed. “Maybe you’re right. I can wait for them to go on sale. No rush.”

            Following our big Sears adventure, Olive took us to the Kay-Bee Toy Store, just as packed albeit with a younger audience. How quaint it was to think that malls once had actual stores tailored for kids. Neither one of us ever really had the biggest collection of any kind of toy, but it was always pretty fun just to see the big variety of shapes, colors, and characters all lined up, and whatever our generation was fascinated by at any given passing moment in this decade. River actually looked close to buying a stack of Pogs when he saw their baseball art in a display case, but chose to hold onto his allowance instead. I never understood the fleeting fad of glorified milk cap collectibles myself.

            Olive was of course old enough now to be buying gifts for Mom and Dad, and it was in the JCPenney back near where we had entered that I began to zone out a bit. She had asked for help in picking out pairs of clothes for them, but me and River knew she was just fulfilling her obligation of being nice. Who would take fashion advice from kids our age? Hell, a sixty-year-old from 2045 wasn’t much of an improvement. All of these clothes now looked painfully dated to me. I didn’t know what to wear, either.

            What little clothes-shopping nostalgia I had faded within about ten minutes of browsing, so my eagerness to slip back into the timestream soon triumphed over more “holidays at the mall” stuff. I felt a little guilty leaving River behind, but it wasn’t like I could take him with me. At first, I was visualizing Christmas Eve of this year… but then I remembered that New Year’s Day in Chicago I saw very briefly. I’d been meaning to go back there so I could get a better look at the house where we once lived. And so, I returned myself to the moment when I was looking out at Chicago in the fog.

            “Oh, Maisy. You’re awake,” I heard Olive’s voice just seconds after I arrived.

            Back in my dorky footed pajamas again, I turned to see her at seventeen years old. Not that it made any difference in my mind because she was always an adult to me, but I did have scant few memories of her as an actual, legal child herself. This must’ve been one of them. I couldn’t recall seeing her this morning specifically, however.

            She blew on the coffee in the ceramic mug between her hands and shuffled over on our cold wooden floor in her fleece socks, adding, “You okay, sis? Last night was…”

            “Last night?” I squeaked out in my tiny voice, and couldn’t for the life of me come up with a reason why she looked a little sad. “Did something bad happen?”

            She thought, and then smiled reassuringly. “You probably don’t remember, huh? It was the first time you got to stay up so late. You were drifting in and out all the way to eleven. Maybe next year you can stay up until midnight in…” She then frowned again, briefly, but shook it off. “Never mind. How about a little morning walk?”

            What the heck did happen last night? It was rare to see Olive all aloof like this. I did have some recovered memories of New Year’s Eve—the ball dropping in New York being one of them—but if there had been an argument, or a fight, or even some really rare but not unheard-of revelation by one of our parents while they were tipsy… Well, it wasn’t something I remembered at all. Would knowing make any difference to my life?

            Still, I had to ask, just one more time, “Did Mom and Dad argue?”

            “Don’t worry about it, Maze. Let’s go out and enjoy the morning a little, okay?”

            I didn’t bother to press it further. Whatever thing transpired last night was buried and forgotten long ago, right? Though I did worry about an itch that could only worsen.

            I pressed the fast forward button on life, very lightly, and jumped ahead perhaps an hour or so. Mom and Dad were probably still asleep and bundled up in bed, and us siblings were outside, walking in our neighborhood in the Chicago cold, hidden under our scarves, boots, and coats as we counted the lake effect snowmen. My cheeks hadn’t been so rosy red in years, but I enjoyed the brisk “dip” into the past that felt so very distant from the balmy, sometimes rainy nights of my present in California. A train whistle, carried further in the cold air, hit my ears as River waddled in front of me.

            This place and time would become my sanctuary, I’d already realized. It would be best to savor it in small morsels, to keep it precious. Back to the future I went.

            The next thing I knew, Olive was asking, “Maze, what’s the hold up? Open it!”

            My eyes focused on the big wrapped gift in my hands, and I realized I was sitting by our lit-up Christmas tree. It was very early in the morning, and one of the tracks from the Charlie Brown Christmas special was playing from the five-CD changer in the living room, which Dad would load up each year with some of our holiday sets and set them to play on a shuffle. Olive was in the old armchair she had dragged over, while our parents were back home and on the couch. River, who was still young enough to have that endless kid-on-a-Christmas-morning enthusiasm, sat on the floor next to me and was anxiously awaiting his turn to open another gift.

            So… it looked like I had overshot again; my time-travel abilities still needed some fine-tuning. I was aiming for Eve, and revisiting Christmas itself felt a little unearned without the whole thing where I stayed awake in bed restlessly first. Aw, well. Maybe I would’ve ended up falling asleep pretty quickly, anyway, mentally being an adult and all.

            I saw that River had already opened his new, semi-decent athletic shoes and the scooter he’d push himself around on for the next few years; he had gone for his big gifts first, like usual. The kid had no respect for a good buildup. Hm. Maybe that had always made sense, since I was the musician and he liked… home runs? I was thinking too much. Time to enjoy some of the magic of opening presents as a kid.

            I tore off the paper for Olive’s gift—she was lousy at wrapping, but in this case it didn’t matter because of its shape—and hugged my new large comfy pillow to show my approval. Memory foam wasn’t around yet, but I seriously needed something better than those flat lumps with the colorful cartoon character pillowcases. Original Maisy’s poor neck didn’t know any better, but she’d thank me after a few nights if she could.

            “That really is a new pillow…” River said curiously. “I didn’t think Olive would get you something like that instead of a toy, Maze. Did she find a buy-one-get-one deal?”

            “No, River,” Olive sighed. “Maisy asked me for one of the pillows I use. I think it’s pretty mature! You’re never too young to start caring about comfort.”

            “Well, she clearly likes it, and that’s what matters,” Mom remarked. “Ollie, could you hand me that bigger box over… Yes, that one. Thank you. Here, honey,” Mom said and gave it to Dad next, who was trying to stay awake. “I know you’ll like this one.”

            The music switched over to some Bing Crosby as he unwrapped it for us to see.

            “Ah, I’ve been wanting this since it was released. I was worried it had gone out of print,” Dad said with a smile and studied both sides of the Rolling Stones box set that contained six CDs and promotional materials. “I’ll try not to listen to them too quickly.”

            “Um, where’s that one…” Olive searched the boxes still under the tree, and snagged one of the cubed-shape gifts that looked a little heavy in her hands. “Here, Mom, you should open this one—but it’s kind of for all of us. And from me.”

            “It’s heavy!” Mom exclaimed, playing it up a little as she tore off the paper. “Now, what is this… Is it a… It’s a… showerhead?” She let out a little laugh as my eyes grew a bit. “Sweetie, look what Olive got us. Honestly, I can’t even call it a gag gift.”

            “Yes, I see. It looks nice,” Dad replied. “Thank you, honey. We’ll try to get that work done before we leave again, but it has to go through the landlord, and… Oh, it’s a whole thing we don’t need to get into. But it’s nice of you to contribute.”

            Olive gave me a side-eye glance. I couldn’t believe she stole my idea! Okay, maybe it was meant as a joke, sort of, but now I was wishing I could remember what she might have gotten for our parents originally, back when I didn’t complain about the baths.

            “My turn!” River said excitedly. “If I have any left to open, I mean…”

            “Of course, you do, buddy,” Olive promised and gave him a gift with a familiar shape. “Here—another one from me. I saw it on sale and realized you don’t have it.”

            River tore apart the paper to reveal a tall, rectangular yellow box, its art ingrained in the memory of any kid born in the 80s who had touched a game console.

            “Super Mario Bros. 3? Cool. I’m always hearing how good it is. Thanks, sis.”

            I looked over at the living room TV and the modest selection of gray cartridges under it that made up River’s NES collection. He never complained that he didn’t have many games, and usually just rented them or borrowed from friends. Unsurprisingly, he did own two different baseball games, though I seldom ever saw him actually play them.

            “Ollie, the one in the funky holographic paper is for you,” Dad moved things along. “It’s supposed to be a good model, so I hope it lasts for a long time.”

            Looking like she already knew what it was even before Dad’s hint, Olive ripped off the pretty wrapping paper to reveal a new Sony portable CD player, which included a pair of headphones. She grinned and said as she read the specs on the box’s back, “Wow, that’s some great battery life! Thanks so much, Daddy. I’ve been wanting one forever.”

            “I miss seeing you with your old Walkman still at your side,” Dad said wistfully.

            I kind of did, too, now that he mentioned it. Olive was such a cool and confident music-loving, jeans and denim-vest-wearing John Hughes 80s teenager back in Chicago.

            The next thing that got opened was my skateboard, my “big” present of the year that I had asked my parents for. River showed the most surprise, just like he did when I got it before. It was a little weird to me that I used to have one, looking back. But it had a practical purpose in that I used it to get around the city; I was never big on the tricks. I wanted to stick with it, because it’d be useful when I started hauling the guitar around.

            “Um. That was Maisy’s present?” he exclaimed. “I didn’t check the name on it…”

            “What’s wrong, Riv?” Olive asked him. “Jealous, or worried she’ll hurt herself?”

            Well, I was a little young to be skateboarding, thinking about it now, but I grew into it pretty quickly. A few scrapes and bumps on the way notwithstanding.

            “I’m just surprised. I was getting worried it was mine, instead of what I asked for. Since they’re kind of similar, you know? Skateboards do make me nervous, though.”

            “I’m a little shocked myself,” Mom noted as I admired the cheesy 90s artwork of unicorns on the deck. “The way she’s been eyeing the old guitar recently, I almost went and got her a kid-sized one. But she insisted on a skateboard so… Just be careful, Maze.”

            “Are you going to try and do dangerous stunts on that, Maisy?” River asked.

            “Not a chance,” I assured my worrywart brother. “It’s just a way to get around.”

            I had one gift left to open, which would be from my dad. Like the pillow, it was one I had changed up on myself. Sorry, other me, but you didn’t really need some stuffed animals or dolls that you’ll mostly ignore after a month. I can’t watch over you 24/7, so picking a few of yours presents was one of the ways I could program my autopilot.

            Dad unwrapped a fancy sweater, Mom opened a box of earrings from him, Olive got one of her baggy, oversized pajama shirts she loved so much—this one with Janis Joplin concert art—and River found out that his final present was a Cubs jersey. We had a tendency to go out on an anticlimactic note in this family by opening clothes gifts last, but the small box I was given at the very end was something I had looked forward to.

            “River helped me pick this out for you, Maisy,” Dad said, and Riv gave me one of his humble smiles. “I hope it’s a good one. Your gifts were pretty, well, grown-up this year, weren’t they? Take good care of it.”

            Inside was something that would be very useful to me, and I hoped that it was nice enough that the other me would wear it at least most of the time.

            I smiled, took it out of its plastic container, and within a minute of seeing it for the first time, began wearing a Casio kids’ watch with a red wristband. The timekeeper had an alarm clock function, showed the date, and claimed to be water and shock proof. I didn’t know if I’d actually need the extra durability, but it sounded like a good idea and made it “cooler.” I was relying on the non-traveling Maisy to want to wear it daily. From this moment onward, I could instantly confirm the moment I’d leapt into.

            “Thanks a lot!” I burst. I then added jokingly, “Now I’ll never be late again.”

            And with that, the Christmas gift opening was over, just as quickly as always. All that lead-in since the day after Halloween, and it’s here and a memory in an instant.

            But the day was just beginning, and once the wrapping paper was dumped in the trash, River got to doing what the two of us would eventually see as a holiday tradition. And it technically already was, even if he didn’t realize it yet. All the way up until a few years after he graduated college, no matter what newer video games he got, he’d always bring his old NES out of storage, dust it off, and play some of the classics. I guess it was his way of honoring the “old days.” Not that the classics were all that old yet.

             I watched from the couch as he booted up Super Mario Bros. 3 on our little TV set—the controller cord’s length kept him on a beanbag on the floor—and watched him play for the first time. I felt that childhood specialness of getting a game as a gift just as much as he did, even though I typically enjoyed watching them being played more than participating myself. It let me focus more on the soundtracks, too, which I liked. Being River’s little helper buddy in Zelda, Metroid, and Final Fantasy would always be precious memories of mine, and I could appreciate a game’s story and world… but these fingers were built to play guitar. Working a controller was just a secondary hobby for them.

            “Hey, River,” I spoke up before he finished the third level on the first world. “Jump up on that white block and hold down for a few seconds. You’ll go behind the level and find a magic whistle that lets you warp to another world and skip a lot.”

            He looked at me like I was making stuff up, but did as I said to uncover a classic secret in the game I could never forget. “What the heck, Maisy? How’d you know that?”

            I just gave him a smirk. But, he played normally, choosing to not use the whistle.

            It’s December 31st, 1992. But I’m not going to write about the holidays, or New Year’s Eve. I have a plan, but I’m not ready to put it into words, either. I’ll get to work soon and start to focus on my tasks, but for now, I just need this time to feel like a kid again. To remind myself what’s at stake, and make sure a few foundations are sturdy for what’s to begin soon. I’m too young, anyway. We’re all still too… formative, might be the word. Childhood remains a drunken, carefree chaos. My fellow 1985 babies need to settle down, and our personalities have to begin shining through before I can start.

            So, let’s talk big sister. Olive Elena Wilkins was born on February 16^th, 1973, to adults that hadn’t planned on being parents yet and were, by the own admittance, too young to be having a kid, especially with their income. For Olive’s first few years, it was four grandparents that did most of the caretaking, while Mom and Dad looked for jobs.

            “In 1975, our parents moved into a suburb of Chicago to live there full-time, and Olive quickly took her place in their band. At first, as something of a lyrical muse or even a mascot. By age four, she was playing the tambourine in good harmony to some of their songs, and was a “delight to see on stage,” as Mom puts it. We have an album full of pictures that show Olive with the band as she grew up. She was last seen playing the drums in 1983, at which point she had to begin watching over her new baby brother instead from the back of the audience seating areas at the played venues.

            Olive is a Gen X child. Parents are always old to us, but she was already ten years older than River when he was born. The twelve years in our case feels like an even larger divide by comparison. A sibling that much older than you is almost… enigmatic. She grew up under the same parents we all shared, and yet, lived an entirely separate life from our own. She basically mostly grew up as an only child; went to different schools than we did, made friends very unlike ours, and already had stories we find it difficult to relate to. She’s still our sister, and there is a familial bond. It just feels distant at times.

            She’s smart, personable, and knows all about music. But college would’ve been tough to pay for, so she never went. And even though she became an adult before we moved to California, she stuck with us. It meant she could be our guardian, but she still had the option of going off and living her own life. I’m not sure why she didn’t take it.

            I looked at the journal entry and felt rather disappointed by it. A library could be devoted to Olive’s history, and yet this little summary, not much more than a blurb, was all I could come up with? The blinking cursor seemed to taunt me or demand more, but I wasn’t sure where to take it from there. I saved and closed the file after a few minutes of staring at the screen. What I was writing, anyway? A journal or a family biography?

            Maybe I was just still a little nervous about getting too into time-travel stuff, at least before I knew for sure that these password-protected floppies would hold up.

            “Maisy, get in here!” River yelled from the living room. “You’re gonna miss it!”

            Oh boy, a big ball of lights dropping in Times Square. I only came in here to write a half-hour before nine after I got bored and needed to fill my time with anything else… even though I didn’t just skip ahead, because I still wanted to enjoy the feeling of the countdown and experience a New Year’s Eve again in its entirety. Patience was a virtue when one could travel through time, and it felt like something I’d need to relearn.

            “Beats staying up until eleven, doesn’t it?” Olive said as I joined the family in the living room, where they watched some early 90s musical performances on the Dick Clark special. “Mom, who’s playing in Chicago this year? Not that you can beat the New York celebrations, anyway. It might as well be midnight for the rest of the country.”

            “I’ll flip over to the Chicago station and find out soon, Ollie,” Mom replied.

            That was another thing I’d forgotten about—we used to get a channel for one of the Chicago affiliates, up into the early 2000s, I think. River would use it to watch Cubs games sometimes. You don’t appreciate some things until they’re gone and buried.

            After taking another look at the ornaments on our dried-out tree, I came over and tossed my new pillow onto the rug in the living room where I’d spent a lot of time watching TV and listening to music, and settled onto the floor. It was always nice having the entire family under one roof again, but those three months with our parents never felt long enough, and they’d go by quickly. Come March, it would just be us sibs again.

            Unbelievably, I ended up drifting off minutes before the ball dropped, and the next thing I knew, I was watching a blues group playing for a chill crowd in Chicago at around 9:15 our time. So, I did a little redo and forced myself to stay awake the second time. I hadn’t missed much; just Mom and Dad clinking champagne glasses. I wouldn’t be spending many days in 1993, either, but there were a few things I’d want to see.

            I thought that the vibes at recess on the first day back to school would be worth checking out, what with kids either talking excitedly about their gifts, or at the other end of the spectrum, looking despondent about the holidays being over. Vera was one of the girls sharing some positive energy right on the outset, and she was hovering around the popular playground spots and saying niceties to anyone who obviously got new clothes.

            “Nice coat, Heather! Oh, that’s a cool new shirt, Luka,” she complimented as she walked by other classmates. She then turned to us as we did our usual walk. “Maisy and Liesel, cute… No, wait—those aren’t new clothes. Aw, didn’t you get anything?”

            “I don’t ask for clothes for Christmas,” Liesel replied.

            Vera frowned. “Are you one of those kids that thinks they make for a boring gift? It’s the best time to update your wardrobe, though. Look at my pretty new dress!”

            “That’s nice, Vera, but I’m very particular about my look and don’t need other people to pick stuff out for me. And Maisy… She just likes to wear her hoodies.”

            “And beanies…” Vera studied me and made me feel uncomfortable. “How many of those do you have, anyway? I think I’ve counted at least five different colors.”

            “One for every day of the week,” I said with a shrug, and it was close to true.

            For now, Vera could still smile and reply nonjudgmentally. “I’m not saying it’s bad! I just like how everyone has their own style, and our gifts can mix it up for all of us for a bit! I’m so glad we don’t have to wear boring uniforms here. Oh, and nice watch!”

            We got back to walking, with Liesel explaining to me, “We need to find Edmond before the bell rings. This might be the only day of the year where we’d see a smile on his face, depending on what he got…” She then shivered. “It’s so cold. Think it’ll snow?”

            I let out a little laugh. “Leese, it’s 56 degrees. And really? Snow? In Royal Valley?”

            “Oh, that’s right. You weren’t here in…” She stopped and turned around. “Hey, Heather! Come over here a second! Maze, Heather knows all about local history.”

            “What’s up?” Heather chirped after she ran over and gave her glasses a poke.

            “Tell Maisy about the time it snowed here. She’ll get a kick out of it.”

            “It’s true! There’s a photo collection of snow around town in one of the school history books I’m hoping to take care of next year. It was 1989, and a surprisingly strong cold front reached us just before it was set to rain. On December 24^th, flurries hit the city for five solid hours. Unprepared for the conditions, traffic was paralyzed, and services—”

            “Heather, the short version. And you can tone it down. I’m sure Maisy has been through actual blizzards, so you’re not gonna impress her with local weather drama.”

            “Fine. But the third-grade history-keeper picked me because I know how to make a story more interesting. Anyway, there’s not much more to tell. I mean, we got three inches of it, from San Baro all the way to Desert Tree. Although it didn’t make it up to Castle Hill. Most unfortunately, it had all melted by the time school resumed, but while we didn’t get to see the playground covered in snow in person… someone did take a few pictures. And it was the talk of the week in prekindergarten, of course.”

            “In pre-K?! How do you remember any chats you had back then?” I exclaimed.

            Wiping her glasses clean, Heather replied, “Well. School historians like me need good memories like that. ‘History is about our own as much as it is the generations that came before.’ Starting next year, Maisy, if there’s anything you want to learn about this school or the neighborhood, just ask for me. I’ll have a big book I can show you!”

            “Sure thing, Heather…” I said to her as Liesel and I got back on our journey.

            “You know, I think about that sometimes, Maisy,” Liesel spoke up. “You went to kindergarten back in Chicago, right? A whole different school… Any memories of it?”

            “Hm. Not many, no. My brother used to come and get me after the final bell, and… I kinda remember naptime. Oh, and one time, we attached raisins to celery sticks using peanut butter to make, I dunno… snacks for some reason. Kindergarten is weird, huh? It went by in a big, messy blur and it felt like there was barely any structure to it.”

            Liesel shrugged. “Maybe at your old school. For us, it was mostly story time and the play corner that I remember. Did you have those colorful cardboard bricks we did? Or the teaching clocks, where you can see the gears? ‘Learning how to share’ was one of the lessons that we kept getting.” She then looked a bit solemn as we passed by Claudia and her two chatty friends, giving them a wide berth. “I’m glad we were fast pals, Maze. Me and Claudia used to be besties in kindergarten, but come first grade, she started being mean to me for no reason. She has this thing where she chooses a target for a month or two, and is just so…” She shook her head and grumbled. “Nah, let’s not talk about her.”

            This might’ve been the first time she told me about her former friendship with Claudia, but it was something I was already well aware of and never forgot. She wasn’t quite the bane of everyone outside her circle—or a concern of mine­­­­­­­­­­—­just yet, though.

            “Pete, buzz off!” Edmond’s complainy voice hit our ears as the hustle and bustle of the playground proper faded and we hit the area with the trees and his favorite giant tire hideaway. “I come out here to be left alone. If I’m caught playing this because of you and my best present this year gets taken away, I’ll… I’ll dunk your head in a toilet!”

            “But you’re playing it wrong!” Pete, as frenetic as usual, argued as he hovered behind Edmond’s shoulder and tried to keep his eyes on the Game Boy’s little green screen. “You’ll never beat Mega Man 2 if you try to get powerups in that order! It makes the game too hard. Hey! Lemme look! I can at least point out what boss to fight first!”

            “Pete, I don’t care! I’ll figure it out on my own. I don’t rush to beat games.”

            “Got a Game Boy for Christmas, huh, Edmond?” Liesel said as we approached.

            “Urgh! What’s it to you? This isn’t a spectator party! I get so bored at recess and this’ll really help pass the time, but if you’re all watching me, Mrs. Sundren will notice!”

            “Geez, Eddie, calm down. I was just commenting. And I’m sorry you get bored at recess. But I can see how that’ll happen when you don’t, you know… have friends.”

            Edmond glowered at her—not that I could blame him, even though us kids did misspeak pretty easily­—and shot back, “I do too have friends.” He went back to playing, but just for a few seconds before sighing, powering off his portable, and sticking it in his jacket pocket. “You all broke my concentration. Happy now? And don’t call me Eddie.”

            “So. Got any other games for Christmas?” Pete asked him. “I can give you advice on ’em, I bet. Show you some Nintendo Power issues, too. I write them once a month!”

            Completely ignoring Pete, Edmond jumped off the tire and came over to the two of us with his hands in his pockets. “Hey. You’re Maisy, right?” When I realized he was talking to me, I snapped out of the contemplative thoughts I was having while studying a nearby decrepit structure. “I’ve seen you stare at that old shed before. You wondering what’s in there or something?” He looked towards it and added before I could respond, “It has one window, but it’s blocked, so it’s not like you can peek in. I’ve been hanging out at this spot since a few months into first grade, and I’ve never seen anyone open it.”

            “It’s probably just an old shed full of tools, isn’t it?” Liesel said. She then recalled something and laughed. “Like Groundskeeper Willie’s in The Simpsons?”

            “Yeah, maybe…” Edmond muttered. “I bet kids used to make up scary stories about it, but our grade just seems to ignore it. Hey, if you ever wanna try and get inside…”

            I opened my mouth to speak, but Liesel got out first, “Ew, no! It’s also probably gross in there. I’m talking rusted nails, trash, rotting food, roaches, worms…”

            “Sure, whatever,” Edmond scoffed. “Pete, stop pestering me already!” He turned his attention back to the annoying tick at his side, who had been asking repeatedly about the other games he got. “Just Mario Land and Tetris, okay? The skateboard cost too much for me to get more. You need to go get your head examined by Brady or somethin’.”

            “Skateboard?” Liesel piped. “Hey, Maisy got one, too! Roller skates for me.”

            “Coool…” Edmond yawned and began walking off. “I got twenty minutes left for a quick nap in the shade. Please, leave me alone, guys. My sleep schedule is so messed up. Everyone just has to bug me…” he mumble-ranted, and we let him go off on his own.

            “… So, did either of you see him smile?” Liesel asked me and Pete.

            Pete chuckled. “Edmond? Smile? Maaaybe when he first opened the Game Boy. Maybe.” He then set his sights on us. “Hey, either of you girls game? I got tips and­—”

            “No,” we both shut him down, it being the right response no matter the truth.

            Before making our return trip, I looked out at the shed one last time, and tried to remember if it was still around through fifth grade. I was brainstorming something kinda crazy that involved the little forgotten building, and it’d be amazing to pull off.

            Upon our return to the “town square” of the playground, me and Liesel may have been in the right place at the right time to witness a tiny yet potentially big event. Or, it could’ve just been one of many steps that got Vera pulled into Claudia’s close orbit.

            “Cute new cardigan, Claudia!” Vera handed out another of her typical remarks.

            Liesel and I eavesdropped while passing by as Claudia stopped talking with her friends, gave Vera a smirk and an honest study, and then replied seemingly earnestly, “That’s nice of you, Vera. And… I, um, really like the bows you wear in your hair.”

            “You do? Thank you, Claudia! I have a collection, so each morning I carefully­—”

            “Yeah, yeah, we all got our routines. What’s important is you care about style. Can I ask you something?” She crossed her arms and gave Vera an obvious social test. “Who do you think is the worst dresser in our grade? Because I saw Edmond go by, and I can’t believe he still chooses to be the one kid who wears… brown. It’s so gross, right?”

            “Um, well… It’s a… unique choice, I guess. But I don’t think about ‘worsts.’”

            “Claudia’s horrible,” Liesel sighed at my side. “I hope we don’t lose Vera to her.”

            A few time skips and fully-experienced days later, I met Liesel on a Saturday at the halfway point between our homes: one of the city’s largest parks, Rosaline McMare Memorial. Named after the founder’s third and final wife, I believed. Come to think of it, didn’t old Hadron only die just recently? Heather could probably give me an exact date off the top of her head. I bet she’d be very fascinated by my time-travel powers.

            “Whoa, Maisy, that’s your skateboard art?” Liesel snapped me out of my deep thoughts as we came together at one of the corners of the park, with roller skates in her hands. “It’s got unicorns playing guitar on it. That’s so cool, and so… you, isn’t it?”

            The two of us were still a little young to be coming down to the park on our own, so accompanying me was Olive and one of her mystery novels from the library.

            “Hello, Ms. Ottokar,” Olive said to Liesel’s overworked and fatigued single mother, who was pushing two-and-a-half-year-old Theo in his stroller—the boy asleep for the time-being, which I was sure his mom appreciated. “Nice day out, isn’t it?”

            “Oh, um… yes, I suppose so,” she replied tiredly. She then looked down at my skateboard disapprovingly, although she didn’t have the energy to really criticize. “Maisy, are you sure that young girls should be riding on those… things? They seem so…”

            “Unladylike?” Liesel sighed with an eye roll. “Mom, stop being so old-fashioned.”

            “Oh, whatever…” Ms. Ottakar groaned and headed towards a park bench. “You got one hour, Liesel. Or much less, if I don’t see you wearing that helmet.”

            “That goes for you, too, Maze,” Olive said and thrusted something I totally had no use for into my stomach. “It doesn’t matter if you’re ‘not doing any tricks;’ one little slip-up, and I could be taking you to the hospital with a concussion.”

            “Sure, Olive,” I huffed and took the annoyingly bright pink helmet.

            As I got to walking towards the fountain in the center of the park with Liesel, she looked around and dropped something that came as a bit of a shock, “Do you see Eddie around? Maybe we beat him here. I’m not sure how punctual he is.”

            “Edmond?” I replied without searching my memories first.

            “Yeah. Don’t you remember?” She looked at my pondering face. “Wait, did you forget, for real? He was playing his Game Boy again at recess a few days ago, and I was all like ‘is that the only present you care about?’ And he was like, ‘leave me alone,’ but then also all, ‘I can do a kickflip already!’ So… I told him to prove it. Ring any bells?”

            “Um, yeah, now I remember…” I murmured, and while it was true, the cause of that conversation was unintentional—heck, I wasn’t even in control when it happened. “Edmond is actually meeting up with us. Huh. That’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

            Liesel shrugged. “I think it’s more that I insulted what little pride he has.”

            There I was, back to my quieter, shyer self, with Liesel taking the lead on our Wednesday walk. The shed meant nothing to that me, but simply getting noticed by Edmond while staring at it on Monday had been enough to trigger a consequential remark from him that then somehow led us to our first out-of-school get-together.

            “You back here to look at that shed again, weirdos?” Edmond said, unprovoked.

            And then Liesel had replied, “No Pete today, Eddie? Only you could keep him away from a kid playing a game. Is that Game Boy the only present you care about?”

            It had been just that basic. Like Charlie said, time travel was tricky.

            Not that I was complaining or worried quite yet. I didn’t see any harm in making a friend out of Edmond early if at all possible; I’d just planned to wait until third grade.

            “There you are,” we heard his voice, and turned to see him walking up with his plain black skateboard tucked under his arms—and no helmet or guardian in sight. Even out of school and on the weekend, he wore his intentionally repelling darks and browns. Which would be ‘cool’ in middle school, but not so much for second grade. “You’re too late…” he yawned, “I did all my tricks already. Too bad. They were amazing, too.”

            “Yeah, right,” Liesel sighed and took a seat at the fountain to swap out her shoes for skates. “Are you actually going to impress us with a kickflip, or did you secretly just want to hang out… and the only way you know how to ask is by showing off?”

            Edmond grimaced. “As if I’d want to hang out with a couple girls! If it gets out that I’ve been goofing around with you two, my buds would never let me live it down.”

            “What buds? You don’t exactly have a sparkling personality.”

            “You don’t know what goes on in my class! Why would I have no friends at all?”

            “Aw, Eddie. Because you’re a prickly little desert cactus!” Liesel infantilized him.

            I tried and mostly failed to stifle a laugh at how this brand-new conversation was going, and Edmond turned his attention to me. “You think that’s funny, beanie girl?”

            “You can talk some good smack, Eddie—now let’s see you board,” I goaded him.

            “All right. Fine,” he said and dropped his board to the ground. “Watch this.”

            I didn’t expect much from Edmond, especially after he did nothing but ride back and forth on his board a few times past the fountain… Until suddenly, he went and got it to jump up into the air and landed with barely a wobble in his stance.

            “That was an ollie, okay?” he got out a preemptive remark before we had time to criticize him—and I looked back to see if Olive was in earshot and heard her ‘name.’ “I gotta warm up to it, you know?” he added, spun around, and took a deep breath.

            “Don’t hurt yourself now,” Liesel said, and did look a little worried. “You don’t have to do it if you’re nervous. Impressing people can be dangerous.”

            I, too, had a passing thought that maybe he’d hurt himself, and it’d be all my fault. And then I’d have to go back in time and make him mad by shutting this down.

            But, surprisingly, after another ollie, Edmond did manage to do a genuine kickflip for us. Sure, it was a little messy and he almost fell off the board when he landed, but we really saw the wheels do a full 360° rotation, even if two of them touched down before the other pair. Coming from a kid who wasn’t quite eight yet, it was… unexpected.

            “There, you see?” Edmond puffed out shakily, his legs trembling a little. “We can just cruise around the park now, right? I, uh… I don’t push my luck on risky stuff.”

            “Yeah, sure…” Liesel replied, and then turned and whispered to me, “He didn’t have to do that, just for us. What’s he trying to prove, anyway?”

            Unsure myself, this time I shrugged. I didn’t know Eddie too well on my first go-around, and I certainly had no idea that, despite his outward nature, he might’ve always been one of those guys who could put his all into something and didn’t like quitting.

            Keeping that side of him in mind, we casually rolled around the park trick-free, as to avoid getting in trouble or annoying people. The most adventurous thing Liesel did was briefly going backwards on her skates. There was a moment where Edmond eyed a stairway handrail, which gave me anxiety—but he must’ve only imagined grinding on it. It was fun, being back on a board for the first time since college. There’s something about the feeling of having wood under your feet carrying you, without any handles in the way.

            Our first little hangout sesh ended unceremoniously after an hour once the adults called our names, and Eddie gave us a tiny wave before going off on his own. He’d been surprisingly easy to befriend, assuming we actually had done just that. I suddenly felt bad that we never quite became pals originally; we had remained acquaintances, at best.

            Sunday nights were typically when our parents went out to see a movie together, if there was something that interested them, and we had the place to ourselves again.

            So, while they were out watching Scent of a Woman down at The Queen, it was just me and Ollie on the living room couch with an episode of Murder, She Wrote. In tonight’s hour-long murder mystery, Jessica Fletcher had to find out who killed a stage manager as her small Maine town tried to put on a play. Even though we had a single TV set, I only ever watched the show sporadically as a kid, typically with Olive—but I could still recall how the creators moved most murders to New York City and elsewhere several seasons ago already, since little Cabot Cove’s homicide rate was getting ridiculous. This was not one such episode. That was fine by Olive; she preferred seeing the original town.

            “The killers always confess to everything when they’re caught,” I groaned towards the end, while in a rare change from her smiling or laughing to lighten the mood, Jessica drifted off at her computer—which reminded me of myself writing on the Mac. “Why don’t they ever ask for a lawyer? Er, I mean… I’m seven, and even I know that!”

            Olive muted it when the credits began to roll and replied, “Maze, as smart as you can be sometimes, don’t forget that they gotta fit it into an hour-long show. They can’t just skip ahead to a courtroom scene where it’s all being laid out at the end of each story. Of course, Columbo handles it by just showing the murder right near the beginning.”

            “Sure, but he busts rich people all over Los Angeles. People who would know all the other rich people. They all would’a heard of his flawless record and should realize they’ll never get away with it! Or… try to come up with a way to get rid of him for being so pesky. It’s almost as wacky as a crime author being in the right place to solve hundreds of murders but somehow not become the most famous person in the world,” I argued, while realizing I was having a conversation that made me sound twice my age—so the least I could do was be a little silly with my words. “I mean… right?”

            Olive stared at me, and murmured, “You are just… wise beyond your years, sis. But, look, it’s all for entertainment. You gotta let some stuff slide, you know? Anyway, I’m going to have my weekly call with Sandra. Don’t fight over the TV, you two.”

            River, who I forgot was there, looked over from the armchair he was sprawled out on, a copy of Sports Illustrated in his hands as Olive left to use the phone in her room and catch up with her old Chicago bestie; one of three friends she left behind.

            “Why does she love her murder shows so much?” River asked me, as if I knew. “Do you think she’s, like… okay? Does she enjoy seeing people getting killed or…?”

            I answered, “That’s not really why people enjoy these stories. Not sure what got Olive started, but they’re more about what makes someone want to do that to a person, and how they cover it up. It makes them deeper than, like, stuff getting stolen, ya know?”

            He thought for a tic as his legs dangled off the side of an armrest. “I guess I see what you’re saying. I wonder how Mom and Dad might react if they find out Olive lets you watch too, though. You can have the TV for your last half-hour before bed, Maze. I’m still reading stuff. Might try to get to the second boss in Mario later…”

            I grabbed the remote and, in an era without a live guide where we just had a little box with red digits that gave us about thirty channels, flipped upward until I stopped at MTV to see what music video was on. At a lower volume, Metallica played Nothing Else Matters in the background as I was more interested in breaking some news to River.

            “Hey, Riv. Guess what? Me and Liesel hung out with a boy from our school today in the park. We skateboarded. Well, Liesel skated, but Edmond knows tricks.”

            I was really just curious about his reaction, as originally, I didn’t have any guy friends until high school. I had nothing against it; things simply happened that way.

            I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but all he did was look up from his zine and say, “That’s cool, I guess. I bet you three would probably think me having a scooter is lame, but they’re a little safer. I can’t risk spraining something since I’m on a team.”

            He missed the point entirely, but that was sort of the norm for him.

            When the music video ended and commercials started playing, I felt the urge to get up from the couch and test the guitar neck again. I realized it had become a slight compulsion, and it wasn’t like I would’ve grown much in the few weeks since my last check, but to be fair… I did just see James Hetfield do a bit of shredding.

            “Nope, still mid-fifties down here,” Olive said into her phone as I passed by her open doorway, and caught sight of her lying in bed with her head nearly upside down at the end of it like a true 80s teen. “I know you’re jealous, Sandy. Sure! Come any time!”

            Always glad to see her smiling, I turned my attention to the closet, opened it, and reached in. My fingers still couldn’t quite reach all the strings, but it was getting better. A temptation to skip further ahead again was growing. So close, no matter how far.