Chronological Chaos

The city of New London did not seem much different to Emit. In fact it probably had not changed whatsoever since her brief severance from reality; not even a blade of grass was amiss. After she plodded through the door in hopes of being reunited with the world of veracity, Emit was transferred back to her current location through means of the very tree she had crashed into not too long ago.

Her car, like the stranger said, was parked neatly on the grass adjacent to the tree. Upon arrival, she inspected it for the third time in twenty-four hours, meticulous about keeping her car unscathed. Once she verified that no harm had been done to her car, Emit turned toward the tree and dissected it. Unlike the tree in the fictional world, this one had no inscription anywhere on it; the tree said not a single word. Spinning away from the tree and feeling a bit perplexed, Emit made her way back to the orange car and drew the door open. She smoothly climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door, fishing her keys from her pockets once again. Emit sat there for a moment with her hands on the steering wheel, relishing in the calm and refreshing feeling that walking through the portal had left her. It felt like an ocean of the purest water had cleansed her and all her worries. At that moment there was no encumbrance, no judgment.

It appeared that time had not progressed in the genuine world either. Instead of continuing on without Emit, time was thoughtful enough to wait patiently for her return, for once. Emit scanned the black and boring numbers on the car’s timepiece to confirm her theory and read 15:47. It was akin to the time 3:47 on a twelve-hour clock, but Emit insisted on changing the digital time teller so that it worked as a twenty-four-hour clock like most of those in Europe. Besides, she had always wanted to go to Europe though she had never been able to do so. As an alternative, she resorted to modifying her surroundings so that it seemed like she was in Europe all along – like she had never lived in New London, Connecticut.

She drove to the port like she had planned to do before she accidently stumbled onto another realm. Emit reached the harbor in no time, right after she crossed the railroad tracks and parked behind an old looking warehouse. Taking in the familiar surroundings, she breathed in the rust and water tainted air that the area produced and walked toward the edge of seaport that was strangely uninhabited by the usual workers. She tried to be surreptitious nevertheless, just as a provision in case she was to be discovered again. The “’ey, there’re no bubblas around hea’”s and “Wataya doing hea’, shouldn’t cha be in school?”s, Emit had heard them all before. Yet she had always ignored their words; this was her personal retreat. And at the moment, all she wanted to do when she came to the port was sit and think.

Emit ducked behind an idle crane and sat in front of it, moving her legs so that they were hanging off the side of the paved concrete. The water was too far below for her feet to reach the cerulean waves, but she took off her heels nonetheless, not even caring if they happened to slip out of her hands and into the water. She was pleased to feel the autonomy that the ocean was infatuated with, if only in her feet. Emit simply sat there and looked at the clear, motionless port before her.

For the first time since she visited the port, Emit felt jealousy and ire. It was very probable that this very water been to Europe numerous times, maybe to the North Sea or the Baltic Sea, places were Emit had never been but longed to go to. Why was it so easy for the water to travel and not her?

She looked at the water broodingly. If she were guaranteed a straight ticket to Europe by leaping into the water, she would have been one with the ocean already. However, the chances of her reaching Europe by sea without a vessel were slim to nonexistent.

Instead, Emit stood up, tired of suffering deleterious emotions when she looked out into the sea. She threw her shoes onto the passenger seat when she reached her car and left the port. Emit drove carefully to her destination this time, trying to avoid any calamity that would send her back the mendacious world and back to the stranger.

The saying “home is where the heart is” didn’t really apply to Emit, for she felt a sense of dread when she entered her apartment. It was the same place she came home to everyday after work and where she spent countless weekends and countless years.

There were abundant decorations on the walls of the living room, many of them large canvases that exhibited things she had painted herself. The rich, earthy tones of the images complimented the sea green couches and ash wood furniture that Emit had painted an azure blue. The room was lit by a bright florescent light bulb that she had mounted on a treelike sculpture towards the far right corner of the room.

Emit dragged herself to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and cabinets in search of food. She shut them and walked to her room when she realized there was not enough food to even improvise a meal. It didn’t matter though, she wasn’t hungry anyway.

Emit’s room, her asylum, was assembled to look like a music venue. The mattress was covered in sparkling sheets and a black comforter, bolstered by a frame that was also a dense black. This was her stage and this is where she, and only she, slept every night. An angled spotlight hung from the ceiling, and its bright light illuminated the apparent sparkles on her sheets. The wall behind her bed was covered by a wallpaper-like canvas that simply displayed a large television screen with the words “Durch Raum und Zeit.” (German: Through space and time.) Opposite her bed was another large canvas that stretched the length of her entire wall. Emit had painted it to look like a sea of people here to attend her concert. The people toward the front of the crowd were painted in detail, but the rest were merely silhouettes; a mass group of nameless people. Jagged patches of silver spanned the wall, signaling the fans engaging in flash photography – this was her paparazzi.

There was not much furniture to cover the black walls on either sides of her bed, but Emit had a number of instruments to take the place of those fixtures. On one side, she had a keyboard, an electric and acoustic guitar mounted on their respective stands. They were displayed in a neat line so that they spanned the entire wall instead of just a small, crowded section. On the opposing side was a mirror, one that was akin to the movie star kind of mirror that resided in the other world Emit had visited today.

Immediately, Emit wanted to take a hammer and smash the glass that reflected her appearance, but she only stared at it instead. She stared at her unadorned, brown hair and her dark, brown eyes and was disenchanted for the millionth time in one day. No longer did she have blonde hair and grey eyes, no longer was her skin pale and smooth as ceramic, no longer did she feel content when looking at herself in a truthful mirror.

~*~

Nothing had changed at work the next day either, but that was something that Emit had anticipated. Nothing at work ever changed.

She causally walked through the doors of her workplace; there was no need to rush for she wasn’t late this time. Emit waved a small ‘hello’ to her colleagues. There was no time to talk at the moment though; she had an important phone call to make.

Not even two minutes later, she was on the telephone with the art editors of TIME. Getting back in contact with them in less than twenty-four hours after a missed meeting seemed to rectify the situation, if only just a little.

Just as soon as she had picked up the phone, she placed it back in its cradle. Though the conversation with the art editor was brief, it was enlightening. Emit learned that the first issue for the following month would be the one to feature her artwork. Her spread would consist of two pages --front and back-- and her “Painting the Picture” interview would be held in three weeks, but the location was “to be determined” as the editor said. Where ever it was, Emit knew being late for that interview was not a negotiable option.

“How are you today, Emit?” Emit had heard this voice many times before, but never accompanied with a cheery accent. This time there was something peculiar about the words it sounded; how could this voice and these words ever agree to come out of this person?

Jezebel was rarely nice to anybody, much less Emit, and she did not regularly socialize with anyone. She only acted remotely kind to those around her when there were visitors in the office. There were no other known exceptions to this rule, and knowing this, Emit looked around to see if there were any new faces around the office or if it was someone else who had spoken. There was no one else in the general area.

“Fine.” Emit wanted to be terse with her response so that it would hopefully deter Jezebel away from provoking a conversation.

“That’s cool. So I was wondering, what are you doing later today? Maybe we can hang for a bit. I realized that in all the time we’ve known each other, we never actually got to know each other.”

“Entschuldigung, aber ich bin beschäftigt später. ” (German: I’m sorry, but I am busy later.) It took Emit a while to realize that she was speaking German. Now that she had met the stranger in an alternate reality, he and Jezebel had become one in the same.

Jezebel gave Emit a strange look causing Emit to roll her eyes; it was not her fault that Jezebel did not speak German. It was her loss. Emit repeated herself in English so that she would be able to get the important message across: no she did not want to ‘hang’ with Jezebel anytime soon.

Emit began to brainstorm as to why Jezebel was suddenly so eager to spend time with her now. And then Emit realized that it was because she had acknowledged by TIME and Jezebel had not. This was her way of hopefully gaining indirect acknowledgement. Emit knew that Jezebel did something creative as a hobby, but never had much interest as to what it was – nor did she care. Jezebel was a person who feed off other people’s misery, and that was something that Emit could not tolerate.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Jezebel said with a defeated tone, “maybe next time.”

“I don’t think so.” And with that Emit rose from her seat and left to the restroom. It didn’t matter to Emit that she appeared to be acting rude. The truth of the matter was that she was only acting accordingly, reciprocating the way she was regularly treated by the one and only Jezebel.

As Emit emerged from the restroom, she was met with her supervisor.

“Ah, Emit. Just the person I wanted to see!” She was usually jovial when it came to life in general, and Emit had yet to see Mrs. Hiolair in a dejected or cross mood. In her unexplainable, giddy anticipation, she did not give Emit a chance to answer.

“I have a surprise for you!” Mrs. Hiolair’s enthusiasm was highly contagious, and Emit could not help but be excited herself. This was not the first time that she had presented Emit with some sort of gift, and on average, they were usually enjoyable things.

“Oh my. What is it?” Despite her eagerness, Emit never knew how to put her excitement into words. It always managed to come out forced and mechanical no matter what words she chose.

“I have here two tickets to Germany, and they’re for you to-”

“No way! How? Why?” Emit could not even begin to fathom that she now had the chance to be going to Europe and especially Germany. Now she could really put her German to use.

“Being that it’s almost the end of the month, my panel and I have just chosen the employee of the month. We all unanimously decided that you deserve the title without a doubt. Plus, your recent recognition by TIME magazine really solidified your achievement. It’s always good to get recognition on an individual basis, but also on a group level.”

“Wow, thank you so much! I just – I’ve always wanted to go to Germany.” While she said this, her twinkling eyes lingered on the ivory envelope that Mrs. Hiolair held out with her slightly crumpled hand. She took it gingerly as if it would break if she clutched it too hard. Emit only held it in her hand and stared at it, afraid of the possibility that there would be no tickets in the envelope when she ripped open the sticky fold. Perhaps this was a hoax, or maybe she could be dreaming. Either way, if there were indeed no tickets in there, she was in no hurry to find out.

“Well, you really deserve it Emit. Why don’t you go home and start packing now; the flight is in three days.”

“Are you giving me the rest of the day off Mrs. Hiolair?”

"You could say that.” She gave Emit a warm smile, a pat on the shoulder, and walked away in the direction she came from.

Just then, Gabriel appeared on the opposite side of Emit with a pleasant smile.

“Emmy. Whatcha’ got there and why do you have that goofy look on your face.” He looked at the envelope held delicately in Emit’s hands and then at her face that would illuminated by wonder.

“I’m going to Germany,” she stated simply. Gabriel was probably in the dark about what Germany meant to Emit, so her astonishment as to a trip there was unfathomable.

“That’s… cool. I’m guessing you really love Germany then.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” But Emit certainly believed in her chance to go to Europe even more now and decided to reveal the true contents of the envelope. She pulled out two tickets to Hamburg, Germany, each detailed with the flight gates and times.

“You were in on this weren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Gabriel said with a smirk. Emit took that as an obvious ‘yes’. “So who are you going to take with you to Hamburg?”

Emit already knew the answer to this: “No one,” she replied. She knew that if she ever had the prospect of going to Europe, she would want to go unaccompanied. That way, there would be nobody’s wishes to fulfill but her own when it came to sightseeing, no one to translate for when speaking in German, nobody to explain to German culture to that Emit had read so much about.

“See you later Gabriel,” Emit said softly and turned away to collect her belonging sprawled on her desk. She was eager to enjoy her day off, for she had had many days where free time was a detriment.

~*~

Once she got home, Emit spared no time preparing for her trip. She threw her keys onto the table after she shut her apartment door with her foot, took off her shoes, and loped to her room. She searched in her small closet for her brown suitcase that she had only used twice; once to sleepover at a friend’s house, and another time when she moved out of her parent’s house to her current apartment.

She packed a few random t-shirts and jeans, some underwear, and a few accessories. But as she continued to look for things to pack, she noticed that she was truly unprepared for a journey somewhere other than to a place in New London. Her American winter clothes were really no match for the icy German winters, plus there was no way she was going to wear the same clothes she wore in New London in Hamburg, Germany. This was her chance to start afresh, even if a new identity only lasted a short time.

Emit decided that, for the first time since she started working at her current office, she would go clothes shopping. Emit assumed that that was the first step to becoming a happy individual.