The Little Black Book
It was a sunny day in Hartford Connecticut, not unusual for the Summer time, but something felt strange that day. I had double checked my apartment before I left for work that morning to see if I had left anything behind, but to my surprise, everything was in order. I walked to the bus stop that morning not dressed in my usual work clothes, which was generally a white button down shirt with black dress pants, but today I wore a black skirt instead, because of the humidity and sunshine. when I had arrived at the bus stop, there was an unusual lack of people. I got onto the bus and a large woman in a green puffer jacket brushed past me in a hurry to leave, dropping behind her a small thin book. I was convinced that she was some kind of insane person to be wearing such a jacket on such a hot day. I picked up the book to give it to her, but she had disappeared. "she must have gotten off the bus," I told myself, but I knew it was illogical, because the bus was moving when the woman in the green puffer jacket passed me. I studied the black cover of the book and noticed that it was around the size of an American passport. I knew it was not a passport though, because on the inside, instead of stamps there were words. when I tried to read the words, I couldn't, because they were in a different language. When I had arrived at work, the first thing that I did was log on to my computer and google what language it was in. Apparently it had been written in French, and here is what the first few pages translate to roughly in English. "Entry one, seventeenth January, two thousand seventy-two. Today I noticed a bird fly past my window. I don't usually see birds in my area, so it was good. Today I will travel to the year two thousand and fifteen to study people". " Entry Two, third of January two thousand and fifteen. It is interesting here, they are very different in many ways, human nature is very different than I'm used to in my time. I expected that, of course, but it is a lot more dramatic than anticipated. I was told to take a large amount of cash to take with me and hide if I got lost in time and needed food and shelter". Entry Three, twenty one February, two thousand seventy-two, I have just returned from two thousand and fifteen with my studies, I must go back to two thousand and fifteen soon but I can't leave Charlie alone again." I started shaking as I read the google translate page, and thought there must have been a mistake in the translation, but I was not believing myself anymore. That would have explained why the woman disappeared, and why she was wearing winter apparel. Did I really see a time traveler? who is Charlie? by now I was shaking so much that when I moved my hand to take a sip of coffee, the mug slipped from my hand and crashed onto the floor, shattering into small pieces. My coworker Jaime helped me clean up my mess and took me to the sick room at our office, but before she left me alone she asked me, "what made you drop the mug?" I told her I must have had too much caffeine, and we shared a friendly yet awkward giggle, and she left me as I composed myself. After a few moments, my boss walked into the sick room to see if I was all right to continue work. "I should be fine," I mumbled. "if you continue to have outbursts, you should be sent home." he added firmly. I shakily walked back to my desk and began to answer calls. I was an over the phone therapist, so if I was in bad mental health I needed to be sent home. That is why my boss made such a big deal about me being so upset. "Hello, Sunny Day Therapy, what is bothering you today?" that was the thing I had to say in the beginning of every session, although I hated it. It made me sound like I didn't care about the person on the other end of the phone. A woman started speaking to me in French, "Bonjour j'ai besoin d'aide! Mon enfant est en d-" the phone cut out as the french speaking woman must have lost connection to her phone. I didn't know what she said, but I heard the word "infant" and hoped that her child wasn't in danger. She sounded panicked, not like the usual people who call our therapy agency. Then I thought about the journal. I went home early because the french caller shook me. I had told my boss that I was far too troubled to continue working. On the bus ride home, I was thinking of the woman in the green puffer jacket, wondering if she was the same woman I spoke with on the phone.... if she was, how did she contact me? did she know the number to our agency? or was it a different number in the future? perhaps the emergency hotline for the police?, like 911?... I was about to continue thinking about why this was happening to me, when the bus stopped at my apartment complex. I stepped through the open door of my apartment building with numb legs, as the reality of what had happened just hit me. When Chrissy at the front desk greeted me with a "hello!", I nodded at her while my eyes looked past her at the elevator, where the woman in the green puffer jacket was standing. A child was in her arms, panic started erupting in my brain, and a sinking within my stomach. I thought I must be hallucinating, but I wasn't. All the logical things in my head were gone now, and I realized that the woman was in tears holding her child, who appeared to be spastically jittering and humming. I ran into the elevator and the woman said to me, "Bonjour j'ai besoin d'aide! Mon enfant est en difficulte!" (hello I need help! My child is in trouble!) I couldn't understand her, but I new her child needed help. I called 911 and said that a child was having some kind of seizure, all though I didn't know if that was what it was. The child continued frantically flailing his arms and legs in all different directions,and the lady in the puffer jacket was crying and yelling for help as I directed her out of the elevator. The police and the EMT's arrived about ten minutes later and hurried the child into the ambulance. They asked me if I knew the woman, or if I could speak french?. I told them "no" to both questions, but I was still shaking and terrified. The woman was bawling, and I soon realized that the woman at the front desk was not Chrissy, but a stranger who was calmly staring at us with an eerie smile, not saying a word, not blinking. I screamed in terror as I realized this, and the two policemen who I was talking to asked me what was wrong?. "I, she, not. I she Chrissy, not real, Chrissy not, blink, stranger!" the two men looked at me and told me something that, no matter how hard I strain to remember, I cannot. I apparently was in a state of pure delirium from the fact that I now knew that time travelers existed, and that a child was in a life threatening emergency, that I didn't see reality. And in fact the woman at the front desk was Chrissy, and she was not calmly staring at us, she was crying and trying to help us. Later that evening I was in a slightly better state, so I went to the hospital to check on the woman and the child, but I did not know her name, so I asked the woman at the visitors desk for a French speaking woman and a child. Surprisingly, they directed me to room 172, and I went inside. The woman was now in a hospital gown, along with her child, who was now in a hospital bed sleeping. The woman had a laptop on her legs, which I assume was for translating, and the computer said to me, "hello, I am Evolette, thank you for helping my son, Charlie. He was having a bad reaction to something, but the doctors don't know what to, they just said that he is okay now. He rests because of your kindness," I got past the fact that she was a time traveler and typed into the translator on my phone to say, " votre accueil, je suis content qu'il soit en securite maintenant. Je pense que j'ai un petit livre noir a vous?" which means in English, (your welcome, I'm glad he's safe now. I think I have a little black book of yours?) I pulled the book from my purse and handed it to Evolette smiling warmly. She typed into her laptop swiftly and it said, "yes that is mine, thank you so much, did you, by any chance, happen to read the book?" she took the little black book and smiled at me kindly, yet slightly worried. I typed into my phone to say, "no, I couldn't understand it, it was in French." Evolette looked relieved and then she typed something else into her laptop. "I was hoping you would visit, and to thank you for your kindness and love to my Charlie, I give you all the money I brought with me to America, other than a small amount I need for Charlie and I to get back to France. I looked at her face to see if she was serious, as she reached into her purse. She was giving me the money I read about in the book. I shook my head motioning no, but she handed me a wallet stuffed with hundred dollar bills, American bills, surprisingly. I gave her a hug and blew a kiss to her child. Walking away still slightly delirious, not fully grasping the reality of the money in my hands. I was filled with the unsettling feeling of knowing too much. I cried in my bed that night, the overwhelming day tiring me out, but being unable to sleep. After that day, I was rich, but I was never truly happy, because my mind was clouded with thoughts from the Summer of two thousand and fifteen, when Evolette dropped her little black book, no bigger than an american passport, on the almost empty bus.
