Holiday From Real

I graduated from high school and moved on to Vassar. I saved up all my extra credits – most people used them to graduate early – for Vassar; I walked in a junior, cutting a lot off of my tuition. I was able to sit down with a financial aid officer and ended up only having to pay about thirty percent of my tuition. I applied and received many scholarships, so in the end, I really only paid about five percent of my fees. I continued my athletics at Vassar while continuing to dedicate myself to my studies. I ended up transferring to Cornell Law after graduating from Vassar.

I’m twenty-four now, almost twenty-five; I interned at a renowned law firm during my years at Cornell, and now I work there. Nalo lived with our grandmother during my university years, but now he lives with me. He’s sixteen now; I have enough money to support an upper middle class lifestyle, which includes sending him to a private high school. I may just be his older sister, but I don’t allow him to slack. I don’t expect perfect grades, but I do require that he try his best. I send him to tutoring and I make him take out the trash and kill bugs around the house since he doesn’t pay any bills. Unlike many of my neighbors, I don’t have a maid, so Nalo does the dishes most nights, and he keeps his room and bathroom tidy. I dust and vacuum, keep my bedroom and bathroom tidy, and do our laundry. Nalo doesn’t have a job, but he’s often busy with his schoolwork and basketball – he made varsity this year, his sophomore year. I do my best to go to all of his games, but he understands that if I have a case I can’t bail.

Our life is absolutely wonderful now. Nalo grows more and more with each passing day. He’s been dating a girl on the varsity dance team for about a month now. Her name is Aubrey; she’s quiet, a bit shy, and a very nice girl. I would have never guessed that she would be on the dance team due to her shyness and modesty, not that I think dance team girls are sluts and/or stupid, I just figured her a bookworm when I first saw her. She comes from an old moneyed family; once she came over early to pick him up the other day – I didn’t buy Nalo a new car; he has his license now and is under my insurance, but doesn’t want to drive the Oldsmobile – and saw him doing the dishes. She asked him, “Why don’t you have the maid do that so we can go?”

He shrugged and kept loading rinsed off dishes into the washer, “We don’t have a maid.”

She looked a little curious, “Why not?”

I walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, “Because I don’t feel the need to hire one.”

She nodded, but I knew she didn’t fully understand where I was coming from.

I walked over to the sink. Nalo took a step to the side as I turned on the cold water. “We grew up poor, barely scraped by. Just because I made it, got out of there and am now successful doesn’t mean I want Nalo to forget where we’re from.”

She nodded again while Nalo flashed me a “don’t embarrass me” face.

I walked out of the kitchen and sat down on my large sofa. I bought fifteen feet of suede, goose-down couch to line the wall opposite of my large flat screen. I plopped down on the piece of sofa that comes out like those chairs in the stereotypical scenes of a therapist’s office. I yawned, turned on the news, and looked over Nalo. He has significantly changed since he was ten. His hair is short, but it’s curly and dark brown. He’s six-foot-three now, and he’s a very light olive. He’s played basketball since seventh grade, and now, with the intensity of high school basketball practices, he’s a muscular guy. His girlfriend, Aubrey, is around five-foot-seven, has dark blonde hair, green eyes, and fair, clear skin. She’s a medium sized girl, but still obviously fit. She dresses rather modestly, but you can still tell.

Nalo walked over to me and said, “We’re leaving now. I’ll text you when we get there and when we’re heading back here.”

“Ok.” I smiled at him, “Be safe.”

He nodded, smiled back, and then walked away.

I watched them walk out the door before I sighed. I’ve dated since my year at Hogwarts, but I’ve only been in one serious relationship since then. I find myself guest speaking at my old high school and donating to the athletic and art departments instead of looking for potential husbands. Honestly, I don’t really want anyone but Tom. I’ve been waiting almost ten years, and I really should stop kidding myself, but I just can’t.

I can’t think about this anymore either.

I got up, turned off the T.V., slipped into a pair of fashionable boots and a thin, but warm, coat, and then grabbed the keys to my black BMW. I put my phone in an inside pocket of my coat before walking into my garage. I opened the garage door, got in my car, and then I cautiously into town. It’s dark and sprinkling, but hey, it’s January. I had a fun time finding a parking spot, but once I did, I went into Borders. I trolled sections that don’t interest me to kill some time before tracking down the escalator to the second floor. I wasn’t paying much attention to the others – not that there was a lot of other people being how it’s nine o’clock on Friday night – while I inspected the fiction section. I bumped into a tall man, took a step back, and quickly apologized.

He grinned at me.

He looked familiar, so I quickly scanned his face. His hair was jet black, short, and neatly combed. His face was freakishly symmetrical, his dark eyes gorgeous, his medium lips pale from the cold of outside. His nose perfectly straight, his skin pale, his grin too familiar, as if they’ve been tattooed to my cornea in a past life.

He breathed out and said barely above a whisper, “Karma.”

I blinked and gulped before nodding.

He put the book in his hands back on the shelf. “It’s me, Tom.”

I stared at him. “H—how?”

He laughed, “I’m happy to see you, too.”

I ran my hands through my hair and laughed. “Of course I’m happy to see you!”

“Let’s get a drink. There’s a coffee shop in here, right?”

I nodded, grabbed his right hand, and walked us to it. We didn’t order anything once there. We sat down at a small table for two; I stared at him in disbelief, so he started the conversation. He drew in a deep breath and then said, “I…I dedicated most of my life to understanding time and space.”

I nodded.

“I finally mixed the right spells to create a worm hole…” He grinned, blushed even. “I’ve been living here in the muggle world, in your time, for two years. I figured you’d make something of yourself, so I checked out prestigious schools here. I found out you went to Cornell and where you ended up working, so I moved to Ithaca.”

I chuckled, “And have been trolling the near by cities ever since?”

He laughed, “Yes.”

I reached my hands out to him; he did the same and held mine, then continued talking.

“I was actually just looking for a book here.” He grinned, “I’ve been working at chemistry lab half an hour from here—”

I leaned over the table and kissed him. When I broke away I breathed, “Move in with me.”

He gave me a humored, inquisitive look. “Isn’t that a bit fast in this day and age?”

I laughed, “You’ve changed, Tom.” I laughed again, “I must have really done a good job back in Hogwarts if you’ve abandoned your muggle hating ways.”

He grinned. “I’ve missed you too much to focus on that.”

I smiled.

“You…you were different. No one liked me before that, no one bothered to love me.

I nodded.

He gulped, “I’m not a healthy person, Karma, you know that. But… you added things to my life that I’ll never be able to understand or express.”

I got up and moved my chair next to him. We continued talking about how he found me, how our meeting tonight was no accident. I took him home – not for anything naughty, but because, really, we need to not just live together, but live together for the rest of our lives. I didn’t say that, but if he weren’t totally in love with me, would he have found out how to manipulate time? I love him. I want no one else.

We fell asleep on my couch; Nalo walked in and shook me away. Tom explained everything. Nalo went to sleep in disbelief, but I know I’ll wake up happy every day for the rest of my life.