Page 54 of Maybe Some Other Time

Robbie took a bite and sat in solemn silence, head bent over his plate. Thelma pretended not to notice.

I last cooked this in 1957. You couldn’t get enough of it.

You ate seconds. For your birthday, you wanted me to make the Thanksgiving stuffing.

It went terribly with the Sloppy Joes we also made, and the other kids made fun of you for wanting stuffing for your birthday dinner, but you ate all of it. You made yourself sick all night.

Thelma took another bite. All of that had been recent enough for her that she still remembered how the homemade stuffing should taste and feel on her tongue.

“Dang, this is great, Thel.”

She was nearly caught off guard by Gretchen’s compliment. “Thank you.” She let her smile bloom on her face as she batted her eyelashes. “The secret ingredient is beef broth.”

Something buzzed on the table. Megan sheepishly pulled her phone away from her plate and shoved it in her lap.

Thelma chose to overlook this first transgression, much like she had once ignored child-Robbie keeping toy soldiers on the table when she told him not to.

He used to argue that if his sister could bring dolls to the table, he could have his little army men. Hard to argue with that.

She stole a look at Robbie as he took another quick bite of stuffing. He wouldn’t willingly let her know, but he loved every sample of her home cooking. His silence was acknowledged, and Thelma returned to her own dinner.

Megan’s phone buzzed again.

“Really?” she whispered to her granddaughter, who was red in both cheeks as she attempted to surreptitiously check her texts. “I thought it would be hard for you not to cuss during dinner.”

“Sorry, it’s just—”

“No phones at the table.”

Gretchen slightly chuckled.

“What?”

Her girlfriend shrugged. “You kinda sound like her mom.”

“Well, I do have experience in these things.”

“Oh, my God.”

Thelma had to double-back to Megan. “There’s the taking the Lord’s name in vain… what is it, Meg?”

She held up her text window to the table. “It’s Emma. She says I should check the latest video for True Crime With Jazz.”

“Can’t you wait until after supper?”

“Maybe…” Eyes still glued to her phone screen, Megan shoved back her chair and got up. “Maybe not!”

She rushed into the living room, changing the TV channel from holiday music to the YouTube app. Thelma looked around the table, wondering if this was just how things were in 2018, but everyone else was confused as well.

“Hey!” Robbie snapped at his daughter. “She’s got one request! If I had to say grace, you’ve gotta stay off your screens!”

“True Crime With Jazz?” Pauline repeated. “I’ve heard of that one before.”

“If it’s anything like those other YouTube posters,” Thelma said, stabbing a forkful of potatoes and gravy, “it’s a bunch of tawdry gossip that doesn’t go anywhere.

” She didn’t hold a lot of love for the chaotic, frenetic energy that internet videos brought.

Indeed, Thelma didn’t think much of modern television at all.

Nobody on the news held a candle to Edward R. Morrow or Walter Cronkite!

“Come on!”

Thelma jumped at Robbie’s insistence that his daughter get back to the table. Yet Megan was glued to the video screencap in front of her.

In the middle was the hostess of the channel, a young woman who went by Jazz (and, for some reason, wore an old baseball cap that said “I Want to Believe,” whatever that meant.) But on either side of her was….

Me!

Thelma got up from her seat, tossing her napkin into her chair as she joined Megan in the living room.

One by one, the others got up as well. Thelma was too distracted by her old missing persons photo on the left side of Jazz while the right sported a cutout of her from Megan’s Instagram selfie in Vegas.

“Oh, wow,” Gretchen said beside Thelma. “That’s you. What is going on?”

Megan clicked on the video titled, “Missing Housewife Found?: Genetics or Time Traveler?”

“Oh, no.” Pauline shuffled past behind Thelma, her own phone in hand. “No, no, no.” She hustled outside. Thelma didn’t bother going after her. Only Ethan had a sickening look on his face.

“What’s going on?” Robbie asked. “What’s got you all acting silly?”

The four of them stood behind the couch, watching the video.

“…So, you might be asking,” Jazz said, fingers twirling by her head as she stared into her camera, “What the hell is going on here? The so-called Thelma Van der Graaf seen out and about today is the absolute spitting image of the woman who went missing in the ‘50s. According to her public documentation and Megan’s own public social media, this Thelma is her cousin, who would be the OG Thelma’s granddaughter.

While the name makes perfect sense when you take into account that people tend to name their children after dearly departed family members, what the heck is going on with her appearance?

She looks exactly the same! Including this picture of her visiting her mother in an old folks’ home in Los Angeles! ”

Thelma gasped to see a candid photo of her having lunch with Debbie the week before. Dolled up in what I used to wear all the time. One of the employees must have taken that picture and shared it with Jazz! I bet it was Linda!

“Supposedly, this new generation Thelma is Debbie’s daughter, but there are no records of her existence from before this year.

The story that our informant tells us is that Thelma claims to be from NorCal and was given up for adoption when she was born, adopted into a cult, and was married and already had two kids by the time she was twenty-five.

Just so happens that the Thelma who went missing in the ‘50s had the same trajectory, minus the cult!”

“I’m really sorry.” Gretchen took Thelma’s arm and attempted to drag her away. “I might know someone who knows how to get this stuff taken down. Come on. Let’s finish dinner.”

But Thelma wasn’t walking away. The video was far from over, and now this woman had the nerve to show pictures of Thelma’s family in the ‘50s, including Robbie as a child.

“Christ,” Robbie muttered. “Never thought I’d see my mug on the internet.”

“This isn’t the first time we’ve heard about people who went missing decades ago suddenly showing up again in Los Angeles, claiming to be distant family members.

Sure, genetics do crazy things, but are we going to sit around and believe that time travel isn’t possible at this point?

In all of my talks about cults over the years, I’ve never once heard of this cult Modern Thelma is supposedly from in California, but I have heard the consistent conspiracies about time travel!

I know I sound like a nutter, but let me say my piece!

I’m not the only one in her neighborhood who has questions! ”

The video suddenly cut to an on-the-street interview with Ben and Heather, who stood outside the latter’s house, talking into a cheap microphone that was barely audible over the autumn breeze.

“It’s just wild, you know?” Heather said.

“She’s not only got the same looks, but the same mannerisms as the woman who disappeared in 1958.

I’ve known her son since I moved here twenty years ago, and the way they interact…

it’s fishy, you know? I don’t believe a word about her being from upstate and in some cult.

I dunno if you guys noticed, but she drives the same damn car as the missing woman!

The whole thing is screwy! We wanna know the truth about who she is! ”

Finally, Megan turned off the TV. “Wow,” she muttered. “That bitch stole my social media photos.”

Robbie was about to stomp back to the dining room. But loud voices came from the porch, drawing everyone toward the windows.

“You’re here to sort it out, right?” It was Heather, this time in real life.

She stood on her sidewalk next to a black SUV that Thelma instantly recognized.

Unfortunately, it made her heart drop into her stomach to see Agents Wilcox and Thornwood step out wearing their FBI windbreakers over their more casual day-off clothing.

They ignored her while stepping toward Robbie’s house. Thelma instinctively grabbed Gretchen, wanting to hide her face in her girlfriend’s arm while this occurred.

“What’s going on?” Gretchen asked her. “Thel. What’s happening?”

She didn’t have words. Her mouth was dry. Everything constricted inside of her chest.

The truth… Her own lies come back to haunt her. Four footsteps coming up onto the porch, and the sounds of voices as Pauline told off the agents for disturbing them on Thanksgiving.

Robbie swung the door open once he recognized Agents Wilcox and Thornwood. Neither man looked like he wanted to be here on Thanksgiving.

“What do you guys want?” Robbie demanded.

Agent Wilcox looked past him and right at Thelma, who still couldn’t speak. Whatever happens… She looked up at Gretchen, who glanced back down at her. Thelma clung to the memory of meeting her for the first time and thinking, “Well, isn’t she attractive?”

Now, here they were, sharing Thanksgiving while dancing around the facts of their relationship. She’s worried about Robbie’s approval… I’m terrified of her finding out I’m a time traveler.

Because it was preposterous. Even that woman in the YouTube video didn’t sound sure that such a thing existed.

Yet here were the agents who apprehended her and impounded her Impala that fateful night several months ago. They came into the house, weary, their attention falling on Thelma as she attempted to hide behind Gretchen.

“So…” Wilcox began. “Seems that people are putting two and two together about you, Mrs. Van der Graaf.”

“Missus?” Gretchen wrapped an arm around Thelma.

“We’ve got to get a few things clear here,” Wilcox continued.

“We got called in from our own Thanksgiving dinners because the press is looking to descend upon this street in the next couple of days. We’re going to have a nice talk about what the story is, and…

” He finally noticed Gretchen. “You’re not family. ”

Gretchen puffed out her chest when she said, “I’m Thelma’s girlfriend.”

“What!” Robbie barked. “Now, hold on—”

“Shut up, Rob,” she snapped back at him. “You’ve got the goddamned FBI on your doorstep and weirdos on the internet making up stories about your family! Let’s focus on protecting Thelma!”

“Is that true?” Thornwood was more curious than upset that Thelma had a girlfriend. “Huh. Congrats. I just got engaged, myself.”

Wilcox ignored him. “She has no idea, does she? Great. Just great.”

“What is he talking about?” Gretchen unwrapped herself from Thelma. “Is there something actually going on here, Thel? Be honest.”

“I’m…” She shook her head, unable to continue.

It was Megan, leaning on the couch and hanging over the back, who said, “This whole thing is fucking stupid. I get why you guys keep this crap secret, because it’s bonkers, but look at all the trouble it’s causing!

I can’t even post a selfie with my grandma on social media without everyone losing their minds! ”

Gretchen’s arm dropped from Thelma’s waist. “Your what? ”

Megan smacked her hand against her cheek. “Christ.”

Thelma couldn’t even be angry at her granddaughter once again taking the Lord’s name in vain.

“Her grandmother. Because that’s me.” Even when she said that, she felt like an insane idiot.

“I’m Megan’s grandmother. And Robbie’s mother.

I’m Thelma Van der Graaf.” She stepped between Gretchen and Agent Wilcox, who was more worn out than Robbie, who hid in the corner until this was over.

“I left my house to go to the store in 1958, and drove right into the FBI’s barricade in 2018.

Here I am. A damn miracle that even the Bible couldn’t warn us about! ”

Gretchen’s eyes darted between Thelma and everyone else in the room. When she realized that nobody was refuting Thelma, even to call her crazy or to point out that what she said was nonsense, the mood shifted. Dramatically.

“What the fuck?”

“It’s true.” Agent Wilcox took out a pen and a pad. “What’s your name, Miss?”

Gretchen was still incredulous. “Gretchen.”

He prompted her for her last name.

“Stewart. What’s happening here? Are you all losing your minds?”

“Gretchen Stewart.” He wrote that down. “All right. Time to ruin all of our Thanksgivings by asking you to come down to the FBI office with us. We’ve got forms for you to sign, Ms. Stewart. Welcome to an exclusive club that we all hate being a part of.”

“I’m sorry, are you arresting me?”

“Heaven’s no,” Wilcox said with a sleepy drawl. “But I can cuff you if that makes it more fun. Happy Thanksgiving?”

For the first time since they met, Gretchen regarded Thelma with disdain.

They no longer touched. Thelma knew they wouldn’t embrace again. The truth had come out, and everything broke inside her, just like that night she tried to be a good mother.

But it didn’t matter. For Thelma Van der Graaf had to pay for her sins.