6. Eve Explains Herself

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The first thing I did after closing the bathroom door was take out my contacts.  My eyes immediately stopped itching - a result I thought worth walking around half-blind the rest of the night (I'm very near-sighted).  Besides, it's much easier to lie when you can't look the person you're lying to directly in the eyes.

All that night I don't think it fully occurred to me I was really alone with Freddie Mercury.  Because if its full weight had indeed hit me, at that time, I probably would have thrown myself at his feet begging for a selfie (and I don't ever do selfies).  Maybe I was in some kind of shock, left over from my time teleport.  Perhaps I only half-accepted everything as real, the other half thoroughly convinced it was all some elaborate dream. 

Whatever the reason, I was unusually sharp as I dried my face, my brain slamming into calm, calculating psychologist mode.

I've told Freddie I don't recognize him.  Let's stick to that story.  I will also not know anything about Queen, be it their songs or the rest of the personnel.  I will say nothing about the future.  I will make myself as scarce as humanly possible after I explain myself to Freddie.  One wrong move and I'm jeopardizing my own future.  I'm not even supposed to be here with them, according to Dr. K.  Wonder where I was designated to arrive at first?  No matter.  I'm here now, but God willing not for long. 

For the sake of brevity, I made myself a mental list.  I call it Three Commandments for Time Travelers (patent pending):

1.  Be invisible.  Don't use your real name, don't draw attention to yourself, and don't photo-bomb (unless you're Forrest Gump, in which case do all three).

2.  Never talk about the future, especially the futures of specific people.  No one will believe you, even if you have proof. 

3.  Avoid people you know from your own life, and if it's absolutely necessary to interact with them, see Rules 1 and 2.

I remembered my family as I formulated Rule 3, and knew by now they must be starting to worry.  Alas and alack, the light was still red.  I turned it around and tucked it into my turtleneck so the light wasn't visible. 

"Hopefully I'll be back in range in a few minutes and they can zap me home," I said aloud.

I took a deep breath.  Right now, I had to deal with Freddie. 

So I opened the door, fresh-faced but dizzy tired, and found my way downstairs (two-story flat- very nice indeed).  Everything was a blur before my weak eyes, but even from a distance I could see another lump of brown fur curled up on the sofa- another lump that meowed and purred and tore furniture to shreds.  This place is a frickin' mine field, I told myself.

"Ah! There you are," Freddie crooned, emerging from the kitchen.

I waved.  I could barely see his face; I just had to trust that his eyes were still somewhere under that thick mess of black hair, set in the tan, taut skin of his face. 

"You look better," he remarked almost with approval.  "I truly thought you were about to explode earlier, you poor thing.  Do you have your story straight?"

"No," I  said.

"Good.  That will make this even more entertaining," he said.  "By the way, have you eaten?"

Food.  Oh, yeah.  Food.  I was ravenous.  I had five minutes to live.

"Yes, I have, thank you," I forced myself to say.

"Oh?  Well, I'm a bit peckish myself, so I hope you don't mind me eating in front of you."

He had a plate of cold boiled meat in one hand.  It looked blander than plain white rice.  And yet my stomach ached.  In the other, a glass of clear liquid.  Knowing Freddie, I was fairly sure it wasn't water.

"All right, you, have a seat," he said, sobering right up and ushering me into the dining room.  I sat at one end; he walked past four chairs and positioned himself at the other end.  I felt like I was sitting before the judgement seat of God, assuming there would be tall candlesticks between me and the Lord when that day came.

He noticed it, too.  "No, this isn't going to work," he muttered, and got up again to sit right next to me. 

"Okay, Eve, I'm all ears," Freddie said, situating himself. 

I frowned.  "Who's Eve?"

"You are, of course.  Isn't that your name? Evelyn Dubroc, Eve for short?  A very elegant name indeed."

"But that's not my name."

"It is, now.  The way I see it, if you don't know me from Adam, then I certainly don't know you from Eve."

"Where'd Dubroc come from?"

"Does it really matter, dear?"

I shook my head and fought back the impulse to smile and add that no, nothing really matters.  I couldn't help finding this just a little funny.  "So am I supposed to call you Adam?"

"No.  You are supposed to call me Fred.  Or Freddie, whichever one."

I put out my hand.  "How do you do, Freddie."

He put his forward as well.  "Now, do you mind telling me what you were doing hiding in my closet and practically giving poor John a heart attack?"

I saw no way to approach this but with pure honesty.  Except telling this rock star that I was from the future and the victim of a time travel mishap likely wouldn't go over so well.  So I copped out with "I don't know."

He scoffed.  "Why should I believe you?"

I reached into my psychology arsenal and pulled out a concession.  "I don't see why you should.  I'm a total stranger infringing upon your privacy.  But it's the honest-to-God truth.  And truth is stranger than fiction."

"How did you do it?  Nothing's broken so far as I can tell.  How did you come in?"

"Same way everyone does," I said.  "Through the bathroom window."

A smile started; this I knew because he covered his mouth a moment.  But Freddie still tried sounding serious.  "I highly doubt that."

"It's true, Freddie.  I don't know what I'm doing here, I don't know why I'm here, I don't even know where 'here' is."

"And you don't know who I am.  Which makes no sense at all!" he cried, driving a knife into the meat and sawing away.  I think he was more upset I didn't give him the respect due a star than that I'd trespassed upon his home.  "What else would make you come here?"

"Maybe I just wanted to cat burgle you," I suggested, then began to giggle.  "God knows, you have more cats than you can handle."

Freddie's mouth twitched again, and this time he let himself smile.  "Darling, that was awful."

Awful, but to my fried brain, extremely funny.  I kept giggling.  "I know, I'm tired, sorry.  But seriously.  Am I supposed to know who you are?"

He looked me over, then sighed.  "Maybe not.  You're American.  Let's put it this way.  Do you like rock and roll?"

"Just the old stuff.  I'm more of a jazz baby myself, a little Latin music now and again.  But I do like Beatles, Elvis, et cetera.  I'm not too crazy about the new rock music these days- a little too extreme, a little too overdone- oh, wait, are you that kind of a musician?" Man, I was dishing out some real whoppers tonight.

This seemed to go far in convincing him, but not necessarily in a good way.  His voice hardened with hurt pride. "I am."

"Oh, wow, I'm sorry.  And you must be pretty famous too.  I shouldn't have said that.  That's just my opinion.  I broke into your house, what could you possibly care what I think?"

Reminding him didn't help, from the way his face stiffened into that cold, marble mask he saved for the stage, the public eye.  Out of the frying pan and into the fire.  "Yes.  You did.  Why don't you leave before I decide to do something about that?"

Crap, crap, crap.  I thought quickly.  Psych studies, don't fail me now! Be smart!

But the best I could come up with was, in a small and extremely meek voice, "But I have nowhere to go."

And that's finally when it smacked me upside the head.  I was trapped.  My money was worthless, my ID kaput.  I had no passport.  I didn't exist yet.  I was an anomaly.  I was as helpless as a baby.  I didn't belong here screwing up things for everyone else.

And I was completely alone.  All the people who cared about me were forty years and an ocean away. 

"I have nowhere," I whispered again, more to myself than Freddie. "And I have no one."

It didn't occur to me I might seem like a drama queen trying to play on his sympathies.  The full weight of my situation hung upon me -plus my hunger and my sheer exhaustion (time travel, for future reference, takes an awful lot out of you, so when Dr. K says don't eat anything, don't listen, he's still never tried it so what does he know?)- and I sort of collapsed in on myself right there in front of him. 

"Now, Eve, you must have some place to go," he said, his voice softening again. 

"I wish.  How I wish I did." I shuddered.  There were tears on the way.  I felt them climb up my throat and tighten it.  "I don't know why this happened, but I'm sorry it did.  If you want to call the police, call them.  God knows I deserve it."

I got up and walked to the stairs. 

"Where are you going?" Freddie asked.

"I'll be right back," I hoped I was lying.  Dr. K, any time now would be GREAT.

I didn't have the energy to break down and cry.  Freddie didn't owe me his sympathy, I would not sit there and act like I wanted it.  I made one last dead wish that I was merely dreaming.  I dragged myself up to the green bedroom.  Surely I'd be back in range soon. 

I decided I would just lay there on the bed until I'd calmed down or until Dr. K brought me back.  The police wouldn't have to look very long to find me.

I picked up my backpack and climbed on top of the bed.  The light on my chest wasn't any less red than when the Relic cut off last time. 

Oscar, the orange cat, hopped up alongside me, and purred, pushing his head against mine.

My nose tickled.  "You sadist, you," I murmured.  But I ran my hand across his little head, rubbed behind his ears.  He saw this as an invitation to curl up right on top of my hair and have a snooze.

What a wonderful idea.  "Sleep.  Yes, I think I'll join you, little man.  Won't be too long now."

I closed my eyes and drifted off.






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