21st Century
"Paige?" Emma sounds suspicious.
"Yes," I reply. "It's me."
As soon as she hears my voice I hear a big sigh of relief on the other end of the phone. "Ugh, thank God. The media is going totally nuts right now – they're following me home! I thought maybe someone had hacked your phone or – actually, fuck it, it doesn't matter. How are you? I saw you on TV last night – that was so crazy! You totally handled Joyce Williams – ha ha! And – oh my God, Paige – when can I meet the baby? It's a boy? When can –"
"Emma!" I laugh, because this feels just like old times – begging my friend to calm down as she talks a mile a minute and loses me about halfway through. "Slow down!"
She laughs, too. "Yeah, sorry about that. I just – damn, I have so many questions that I don't even know where to begin. When can I see you? I mean, I'm not sure you can leave your house right now, I keep seeing shots of all the media trucks outside. It looks like a total nightmare."
"It is," I agree. "And I don't know if I can get out – not without getting bombarded anyway, and not anytime soon. They even followed my dad to the grocery store this morning, and then some stupid website posted that I must be breastfeeding because there was no baby formula in his shopping cart. They're seriously spying on groceries!"
"But we can talk on the phone, right?" Emma asks.
"Oh yeah. Eirik's sleeping right now and I'll have to feed him if he wakes up but I can talk at the same time. And as for visiting, I was actually kind of calling about that."
There's a brief pause before Emma replies. "So you named him Eirik? After his, um, his dad?"
She's afraid of saying – or asking – the wrong thing and upsetting me. But it doesn't matter anymore, because I'm not going to be around much longer. That means I can talk about it more freely, even if I do still have to be careful with the specifics.
"Yeah," I reply. "I did. We can talk about that if you want but I'm just also wondering if you can come over tomorrow afternoon? It's important."
"Tomorrow?" Emma replies, skeptical. "To your house?"
She's worried about the media. It's understandable. "Yeah, to the house. If you park in the driveway all you have to do is run to the front door. It's really important that I see you, Em. And it has to be tomorrow."
"Well I really want to meet the baby," she tells me. "And I guess I don't see any other way of doing it – not without you having to leave, anyway, and I'd rather it was me dealing with those reporters than you. Sure, yeah, I'll come tomorrow. Afternoon? How does one o'clock sound?"
"It sounds great! And Emma?" I ask.
"Yeah?"
"Can you do me a favor?"
"Sure – you need me to pick something up? I can do that, just –"
"No, it's not that – it's actually kind of a strange request."
Emma chuckles. "Just tell me, Paige. Everything is so strange lately it'll probably be fine."
"OK. It's – uh – can you wear something plain and boring? Like a plain t-shirt and skirt, in normal colors? Like not bright pink or anything like that?"
"Uhh..."
"Just humor me!" I tell her, trying to keep my voice cheerful. "Please, I'll explain it when you get here. You'll understand."
"OK," Emma replies, sounding amused. "Fine. You're such an oddball, Paige."
I end the call as quickly as possible after Emma agrees to come over the next day, because I don't want her to start asking questions again and I know she's going to if we keep talking.
She's coming at one in the afternoon. That means I have just under a full day to get ready. I look at Eirik, asleep in his bassinet, and my heart melts. Was I ever that innocent? That blissfully relaxed?
I suppose I was at some point. No longer. Now it's my job to protect him. I search my mind for doubts, because I am a naturally doubtful person and almost every decision I make is beset by worries and anxieties. There are very few this time, and it surprises me. Surely taking your baby and your dad – your only family in the world – to live in the 9th century, would produce some questions? And yes, it has. Will we have enough to eat? What if one of us gets sick? What if the Jarl is dead?
If Eirik is dead, we come back to 2017, we make a life here in the future, we make the best of it. If Eirik is alive, we won't have to worry about having enough to eat. We won't have to worry about our son growing up weak and sickly, like the villagers in Caistley, because he'll get the best of everything. And should tragedy befall us, should any of us ever fall sick in a way the healers can't deal with, there's always the tree – a way back.
Sure, we could stay. We could stay where there are hospitals and schools and paved roads and Google. It would be easier to stay, in so many ways. But I know if I stay, it will be a decision made based on fear.
Something inside me has changed since giving birth and escaping Dr. Lawson and the hospital room I spent so many weeks of my pregnancy in. Something is different, and it's not just my body. I feel it, bone-deep, when I look down at my son. The days of Paige Renner making decisions based on her fears are over. I don't hope they're over, I'm not willing them to be over – they simply are over, already in the past.
I must be brave. For my baby, for my dad, and for the man who, whether or not he is still alive, has taught me the value of bravery. I grab a piece of paper and write down a list of items. Later, when I hand the list to my father, he gives me a look.
"What's all this, Paige? Are you planning for the zombie apocalypse?"
I laugh. "No, Dad. It's just some things I need."
"Antiseptic cleanser? Antibiotic cream? Sterile bandages? Meal replacement drinks? Multivitamins? What's all this for? It's going to cost a fortune."
I could tell my dad that his money is only going to be useful for around the next twenty hours, and then he's literally never going to use it again, but that would just get him thinking that maybe Dr. Lawson was right, that maybe I really am crazy. So I just smile and reassure him that I definitely need the things on the list.
"Merino wool socks?" He continues. "Can I even get those at Costco? I might have to go to the outdoors store for those. And five pairs? Paige, what the –"
"Dad!"
My dad looks up. "What?"
"Please. I need everything on that list. it just took me over an hour to write, and I've been thinking about it for days. I'm so tired, and I need to give Eirik a bath. Can you please get those things for me? I promise you I need every single one of them."
My dad stares at me for a few more seconds and then shrugs. "Ok. Sure, fine. But you've got baby formula on this list, Paige. I thought you were going to keep breastfeeding –" he stops when he sees the look on my face and holds his hands up. "OK, OK! I'll head out right now, then, because this might be a long trip."
I stand up and kiss my dad on the cheek. "Thank you."
And then I stand behind the heavy, closed drapes in the living room, peeking out as the reporters surround the car, shouting questions as my dad tries to pull out onto the road. Thinking about how they're going to react when it slowly becomes clear that my dad, myself and baby Eirik have apparently disappeared into thin air causes a grim smile to spread across my face.
I can't enjoy it for long, though, because I'm fretting now over whether I put everything on the list. I think I did. I mean, I must have, because Eadgar, Willa and Willa's kids have survived this long without any modern help – I just want to make things a little easier for them. And if they're confused by the pull-tabs on top of the meal replacement cans, so be it, because I don't mean to return to 2017 and I want to make sure those kids and my two friends go into winter with full bellies and all the vitamins and warm blankets they need. I'll worry about explaining what 'vitamins' even are when I get there. The medical supplies are for me to bring north, to where I will hopefully find the Vikings and the man whose unknown status as alive or dead I cannot quite force myself to face at this time, because doing so would make it impossible for me to take care of all the things I need to take care of. No one in the past – neither Viking nor villager – will know what to do with sterile bandages or antibiotic ointment. I'll keep them with me, just in case.
Eirik wakes as I stand at the window, hidden from the media, and then takes to my breast with such enthusiasm it actually has him panting. I stroke his cheek as he stares up at me, drunk on love and mother's milk.
"We're going to meet your daddy's people soon, my love. Your people. And you're going to grow up in the meadows and the woods, fat and happy and surrounded by people who love you."
I leave the second part of that statement unsaid, the part where I admit I don't have a crystal ball, that I can't actually know the future, and that sometimes bad things happen. My heart is still filled with courage, even as my mind is fully aware of all the possibilities. My son needs things he cannot get in 2017. I cannot be his father. I cannot be a full, functional community of people who care about him. I cannot be the deep, clean streams and the fields of white and yellow wildflowers he will play in, if everything goes well.
And if everything doesn't go well? I'll cross that bridge if I come to it. In the meantime, I claim ownership of my own destiny.