Page 45 of Backpacking through Bedlam

Mary looked at me oddly. “You’re going to New York?” she asked. “You know Kevin and Jane aren’t there, right?”

“We do,” said Thomas. “While I am very eager for that reunion and introduction, and am quite sure Sally would rather be reunited with James than do much of anything else, it seems rather more pressing that we contend with my former associates.”

“Plus Rose says her bosses want us there,” I interjected.

Mary nodded, her focus still mostly on Thomas. “Wow, fifty years wherever the hell the crossroads put you haven’t changed you one little bit, have they?” she asked, almost amused. “And cool. Just wanted to be sure. We could use the help, honestly. We’ve been sheltering in place there for weeks, and—” She stopped, cocking her head sharply to the side like she was listening to something the rest of us couldn’t hear. “And I have to get back. Tommy, welcome home. You have no idea how happy I am to see you. Alice, I hope you’re staying put this time, since you don’t have anything left to look for.” She finished with a stern look that made it clear what the answer she wanted was.

Fortunately, it was the one I was prepared to give. “I’m staying in this dimension for the foreseeable future,” I assured her. “Thomas is here. That’s all I’ve ever needed for a place to feel like home.”

“You’re both going to have a lot of work to do, but I’m genuinely glad you’re finally going to start doing it,” she said, and disappeared, as abruptly as a light switch flipping off.

I turned to Thomas, a small smile on my face. “Well, Verity will know we’re coming, at least,” I said. “Think Cynthia will be back soon with Sally and Sally’s new wardrobe?”

“And the cake, one hopes, since otherwise we’re likely to cause a riot when we inform the colony that we’re already planning to depart.”

I made a sour face, and he laughed. Normal was never going to be what it had been before he disappeared. We were fifty years too late for that. But we were going to find out what normal meant for us now, and we were going to be happy there.

I had faith.

Cynthia’s peach cobbler was just as good cold as it had been hot, if somewhat texturally different. I leaned against Thomas on the couch, my feet tucked underneath me, and munched my way steadily through the sweet mixture of pastry crumble, fruit, and sugar while he did much the same with a plate of ribs. Neither of us had bothered reheating the food. The luxury of fresh food from a dimension where everything had evolved to be complementary to our biology, if not always compatible, was more than enough. If the food had been hot, it might have been overwhelming.

On some level, I was almost glad we were plunging straight into another crisis. Sure, I said I wanted time for us to take things easy and get to know each other as people again, but I was also afraid of it. We’d both changed so much over the course of the last fifty years. The people we’d been were gone, casualties of the passage of time, and we couldn’t get back to them if we tried. It wasn’t possible.

And I was a little bit afraid that if we had nothing external to fight against, we’d wind up trying anyway. That was the last thing I wanted.

Besides, he was going to need time to reacclimate to life on Earth, without constant life-threatening peril around every corner. Maybe a little light peril would help with that. And he needed to start meeting the grandkids, anyway. I was sure he was going to adore them—but it was probably a good idea to start with someone other than Antimony, who was likely to immediately tie him to a chair and demand he become her personal Merlin, which would create a certain amount of pressure before he was necessarily ready for it. She needed to learn. He needed to breathe.

Family is complicated. Peach cobbler, on the other hand, is refreshingly simple, and I kept shoveling it into my mouth with the single-minded devotion of someone who has learned through long and painful experience that when you can eat, you should eat, always. A full stomach is a blessing not frequently afforded by a universe that’s more interested in chaos than it is in comfort.

We were still eating when the front door swung open and Sally stepped inside, looking faintly stunned, her arms overloaded with bags. Cynthia was close behind her, carrying more bags, as well as a half-sheet cake with white icing and pink and yellow frosting roses in the corners.

“Success?” inquired Thomas.

“Little miss here had a panic attack in the candy aisle when she realized we were surrounded by honest-to- Iðunn humans, and had to be taken to the bathroom until she stopped shaking,” said Cynthia. “But yes, success. We got everything you asked us to get.”

“Walmart is a corporate parasite that crushes small businesses and reduces commercial diversity by out-competing everything around it, but they sell socks,” said Sally. I could see the strain under her flippancy. I set my cobbler aside and uncurled from the couch, moving to take some of the bags. “And underwear, and bras, and jeans, and shoes. I don’t think I’ve ever owned this much clothing.”

“We also got snacks for the road trip you’re about to leave on, since groceries would be pointless right now.” Cynthia put the cake on the coffee table before setting her share of the bags down on the floor. “We swung through McDonald’s on the way home. Your girl can put away some chicken nuggets. I think she’s half honey mustard by weight.”

“Did you bring us any fries?” I asked.

“No,” said Sally. “They’re no good cold, and they would have been cold by the time we got home.”

“Fair enough. Want to see a magic trick?”

“Sure,” said Sally dubiously.

“That’s my cue to get out of here,” said Cynthia. “Alice, I’m keeping the change. I’ll apply it to your grocery bill. If you call the Angel when you’re on the way back, I’ll make sure everything’s stocked up and ready before you get here.”

“Appreciate it,” I said, and watched as she walked quickly to the door and let herself out. Cynthia had seen this before. She was smart to get clear before things got loud.

Turning back to the living room, I clapped my hands. “The Holy Bargain of For God’s Sake, Alex, Make Those Damn Mice Stop Yelling While I Have A Hangover is still in effect,” I said, loudly and sternly. “But as always within the bounds of this bargain, offerings must be made. You are invited for cake, in the living room, providing you keep the cheering to a minimum and take your portion away with haste. Is the bargain satisfactory?”

There was a long pause, long enough to make me think maybe they were sulking and I was talking to the walls for no real reason. Then, from all sides, came a resounding cry of “HAIL!”

Sally winced. “I thought you told them to keep the cheering to the minimum.”

“That was the minimum,” I said, as mice streamed out of the baseboards and swarmed the cake like locusts covering a farmer’s field, ripping off chunks of sponge and frosting and racing away with them, vanishing into the baseboards. I watched with a small, indulgent smile. A full colony of Aeslin mice gathering food is an impressive sight. “Cake is a literal religious experience, and they’re very excited about it. The fact that they’re not singing a song in honor of the cake, the baker, the farmers who grew the ingredients, that’s them showing restraint.”