Interview

The power had gone off in the night. It was rare but it happened. So my alarm didn’t sound. On such small things the world turns.

Overly dramatic? 

At any rate, I rushed my shower, grabbed a bagel and my tea thermos and ran out the door. I had to catch the 8:30 bus to the other side of town. If I missed it, the next bus would get me to the Parks & Recreation HQ at 10:05 – five minutes late. NOT a good idea to be late for an interview. Especially one I so desperately wanted to pass with excellence. I had pinned my hopes on this summer job. I needed it. It was a crucial step on the path to my chosen career. A career I was pretty sure Father wanted me to pursue.

So I grabbed my backpack, bagel and thermos, and ran.

I ran as fast as I could, backpack thumping against my back, boots thunking on the concrete, tea sloshing around in the thermos in the side pocket of my pack. The bus was just pulling away from the stop as I turned the corner. I yelled. Ran even faster. Yelled. Thumped the back of the bus. “Please look out the mirror. Please!” I urged the driver. He was looking out the other side – at the road and paid me no mind. 

I put my hands on my knees, drawing big sucking breaths into my lungs until I could breathe normally again.

Now what? 

I stuck my thumb out. Maybe I could hitch a ride to a stop in front of the bus and get on it further up? No one stopped.

Uber? I pulled up the App and put my destination in. Only one taker and he was seven minutes out. And the app said it would take 45 minutes to get to P&R HQ. Say what? Road closures. A water main broke. 

I could feel the job, my career, my hopes and dreams, flowing right out of my hands. I was so sure Father had directed me this way … what was happening?

Well, walking said it would take 112 minutes. If I walked and ran I might only be 15 minutes late. Despair clutched me. But I wasn’t ready to give up. I started walking.

As I walked, my thoughts ran every which way. 

I cut across an open lot. A short cut. Or so I hoped. My stomach plunged. A hidden trench crossed the field. Four meters deep and two wide. Too far to jump. Too smooth to climb down and back up. I’d have to go around to the main road. Now I knew why there was a wee bridge there. How had I not noticed it before? Or remembered?

“Please….” My thoughts reached upward even as I picked up my pace to a trot. 

I blinked.

What? 

The light was different. Brighter. Cleaner. Pure and fresh and subtly scented with hope. What does hope smell like? Hard to describe. Beautiful. Pastel. Faint and refreshing.

Why was this familiar? 

The sky! Oh, wow! The sky. Caribbean waters turquoise and gorgeous. The cleanest bluest turquoise-y ever. A couple pure white clouds swam through it. The dirt and grass on this lot was amazing. How dirt could be pristine I didn’t know. But it was. And the grass was vibrant with life. 

Suddenly I remembered: I was hiking with Cory and fell and broke my leg – which healed itself. This was the same.

I grinned. I recalled wondering about a ‘time warp’ as my half an hour had only been seconds to Cory.  Maybe ….

I took a deep breath of the air that invigorated me more than seemed possible. And jogged on. Then I picked up my pace as my breathing stayed even. The empty lot, then the road and bridge, seemed to fly beneath my feet. 

I zigged around a pedestrian and zagged around another. They didn’t seem to see me. At least I think they were people. They seemed more like statues. Or wax mannequins – well done, but somehow faint and slightly immaterial.

My stride ate up the ground, swift and even and firm. This was great! I passed cars even. Say what?? Yup. I ran faster than cars. Yet I felt like I was only jogging. The cars seemed insubstantial, as if they didn’t belong here, were a misty dream. 

After a while I slowed to a walk. The sidewalk seemed solid beneath my boots. But at the same time I seemed to be walking on something beneath the sidewalk that was far more real. Something underpinning the cement… something infinitely more solid and enduring. 

Buildings, people, cars and buses were all misty, faint and blurry.

So strange.

I started jogging again, trying to process what I was seeing, experiencing. Trying to put it into some kind of context that would make sense of it. 

All I could come up with was that I was in some kind of parallel dimension, one where bones healed and time slowed and I could jog faster than cars. 

Suddenly, and far sooner than I had expected, I saw the Park & Rec complex ahead of me. I looked at my watch. It said 8:56. I laughed at myself. Did it even work here? What time zone was it on? Did it track with “Earth” time? When I had started running, in despair, but still desperate to try to make my interview, my watch had said 8:42. I didn’t see how I could have made it across town in 14 minutes. 

I stopped and stared at the ghosty building across the road. 

As I crossed the road I wondered how to get back to “Earth” dimension? 

I breathed a, “Thank You,” to Father – surely He was somehow involved in this…? He must want me to have this interview. And as I stepped onto the sidewalk beside the gate into the complex I stumbled and blinked.

Everything was dull and grubby and somehow worn. The sky was just regular blue with a couple grey-tinted clouds floating in it. The grass was ordinary green, struggling to grow up beside the gate’s pillar. And the air was thin and weak and tasted of gas and dust.

I was back. 

I took a deep breath and moved across the parking lot to the entrance.

The clock in the foyer said it was 9:00. My watch had tracked with Earth time.

Well. I wasn’t late. Feeling so grateful, I went back outside and to the cafe just outside the gate and down the block a bit. I had time for breakfast, after all. 

My head spinning I wondered what all this meant. I guess I had heard Father about applying for this job. Gratitude welled up within me. I didn’t understand … and I wouldn’t be able to explain it to anyone … but I’d take it. I grinned to myself.

This was the second time. 

But not the last.