Chapter 2: Actually, 1787

The door opens, slowly. It’s surreal. The outfits, the building, the freakin’ quills. I can’t help but pinch myself, literally. And, I felt the pain. Still alive somehow. My eyes fall upon familiar faces: James Madison, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson. They don’t look how I had imagined, a little less poised. And, they smell a lot worse. When the hell did they invent deodorant?

“So, now what?” Belle whispers to herself.

“You two need to stay outside,” Cassidy says to Belle and Max. I look over to Cassidy. She makes eye contact with me. She nods at me a little. I step ahead of the group and so does she. We link arms and approach Pinckney. He extends his hand.

“Eli Ralph, South Carolina’s backwoods representative,” I say, my voice cracking ever so slightly.

“Will you be joining the convention?” Pinckney asks me.

“Yes, sir. Hope I haven’t missed much,” I continue, “And this is my wife, Caroline. Her brother lives up here in Philadelphia, so I brought her along. I hope you don’t mind if she sits in on the convention.”

“I’ll take her to some of the other ladies. My wife’s upstairs as well,” he says. Pinckney takes Cassidy’s hand and leads her to a separate area. I’m alone for just a second. I hold my breath, absolutely unprepared for all of this. I mean, I was prepared, but no training could have readied me for this.

“We have a new man joining us today. The respectable Eli Ralph, representing South Carolina’s backwoods,” One of them introduces. I shake some hands and get seated for the session. From the window, I get a glance of Max and Belle wandering around the town. Slavery isn’t mentioned for a while, so I just go along with whatever Pinckney says. It’s hard to focus. I can’t stop thinking about my Ava. I hope she’s okay. I can just imagine her waking up and realizing I’m not there. She’ll probably freak out. I mean, if a day is only a minute, maybe she will believe that I just ran to the store or took a walk. But, I never leave her. Ever.

I continue to pinch my arm every time I doubt myself. Every single time, I can still feel it. During a break, I talk with the New Jersey representative.

“So, South Carolina?” he asks.

“Yes. And you’re from....”

“New Jersey. Jonathan Dayton,” he says, smiling.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Eli Ralph.” I second-guess myself for a second. My name was Eli Ralph, right? A wave of panic rushes over me, but the man pays no mind. Hopefully that was my name. We chat for a while about politics and the war. And I thought my US History class was useless in high school. Guess not.

The session returns, and finally, we arrive at the topic of slavery. Everyone seems to be in agreement of 1808, which is frustrating. I stand up. This is my moment.

“Why not be progressive and set it to 1800?” I ask. About seven people object. Here’s my big moment. I can do this. Just imagine that I’m standing in front of a terrorist sect. I’m getting them to fall into my trap so the Bureau can bring them to justice.

I clear my throat, “Hear me out, patriots! Our money is going directly to Britain and those filthy, foreign slave dealers. Why should we spend our money there when we can simply end the trade soon and exclusively trade with other hard-working Americans! My slave women have babies often and perhaps I would be able to profit off of those children, but disgusting slave traders from Britain are taking all my revenue. Take a stand with me and end the greed of British traders sooner than later. Move the date to 1800,” I declare. Everyone is silent, just staring. I stare back at them. God I just fucked up, didn’t I?

“I’m in agreement,” Calls my new friend from New Jersey, “For different reasons of course. But, Ralph is correct. Why give the British more money than we have to?” I feel a little relief now that there is decent discussion among the group.

“All of South Carolina is in support,” Pinckney states, aloud. The room bursts into discussion. I move my hand from the desk, revealing a sweat-stain outline. I can’t do this. Eventually, they do an official tally. All states agree. With Virginia, I held the South and Massachusetts handed me the North. Middle states fell in line. My stress headache finally fades as the discussion shifts to something else.

At the end of the day, Cassidy catches up with me as I’m talking to Dayton.

“Hello. Made a new friend?” she says, her eyes sparkling.

“Jon, this is my wife, Caroline. Caroline, this is Jonathan Dayton, the representative from New Jersey.”

“Hello, Caroline. I’m surprised to find her here! Where are your children?” he asks, rather boldly. I need to work on controlling my face. I’m certain I just revealed my surprise.

“We don’t have any yet,” I say, not confidently. I need to work on this. I was trained to be confident.

“Why not!?” Dayton asks.

“We’ve been trying, but it just hasn’t happened yet.” I continue, taking Cassidy’s hand. She smiles up at me, her palms are sweaty, but not as sweaty as mine.

“My wife and I have many children! We’ve never had an issue with pregnancy. Good luck to you two on that,” he says.

“Thank you.” Cassidy pipes in. He almost turns away, but I wasn’t done yet.

“So, where are you staying tonight?” I ask. He looks back up towards me.

“I’m staying at my house. We’ve been debating for quite a while so after a family moved to a larger land plot outside the city, I moved into the house. Where are you two staying?”

“We don’t know yet. Perhaps her brothers?” I try to sound as formal as I possibly can. Need to give no indications of not belonging.

“Stay with me! No big deal!”

“Thank you so much!” I exclaim, probably too excitedly. I must be second guessing myself too much. But, Cassidy smiles, clearly happy to have somewhere to stay.

“I’ll meet up with you guys right before I leave. I’m going to talk to Jefferson.” he walks away and Cassidy turns to me.

“We have somewhere to stay!” she says.

“Mhm. Hope it was worth the awkwardness of discussing...”

“Our future children?” she finishes.

“Yeah...”

“I hope Belle and Max are alright. I kind of feel bad for ditching them,” she mutters.

“Me too. I’m sure they’ll be fine,” I add just as Dayton walks back over and invites us to follow him. We walk to his house, which isn’t located far away. The cottage is worn down, in desparate need of a paint job. Children run wild in the yard and nearby wooded space. I attempt to count, but they run too quickly. At least 7 of them. Dayton’s wife encourages us to eat prior to the children’s dinner. We accept. She serves some kind of stew with meat, potatoes and corn. I hastily accept it, but Cassidy seems less interested. I finish her portion too. Dayton and his wife don’t speak to each other, but each speak to us individually. After the awkward dinner, Dayton leads us to a small bedroom on the far side of the house.

“I don’t mind if you try to have more babies tonight,” he says and winks. Cassidy makes a face at me, once he’s closed the door. I laugh. Once his footsteps fade, Cassidy’s expression changes quickly.

“How are you not freaking out right now?” she exclaims in a whisper.

“I-” I start, but she cuts me off, which I’m thankful for. The less I have to speak, the less that I have to lie.

“We’ve quite literally time traveled... time. traveled. Time traveled! And you’re all acting like it’s fine? I’ve been internally freaking out this whole time, just waiting for someone else to snap and it has not happened! I’ve been sitting up in the attic all day just waiting to wake up from whatever fever dream this is and it hasn’t happened. Are you not questioning your sanity right now? This is not real. I refuse to believe it!” she further exasperates.

“You’re, you’re right! This is batshit crazy. There is absolutely no possible way that right now, I am in a bedroom of the house of someone who signed the Constitution. I have literally been pinching myself all day. Look at my arm!” I continue, sticking out my arm to show her its irritated state. I have been pinching my arm. I have been shocked all day. That’s the truth. We continue to go back and forth about how strange this is until she lets out a soft yawn.

“Okay. But, why are we really here? Literally what is the point? Now that I’m over the initial shock, I need to figure out why I’m here. Why are we doing these things?” she questions.

“Aren’t we just undoing the bad stuff? I think the point is to create a better America,” I tell her.

“I mean. Yes. But, it all just seems really fishy, you know? Do you not agree? I want to figure out why we are really here,” she whispers. My heart does a summersault.

“Personally, I don’t think there’s any other reason we could be here. Obviously, they are just trying to fix America’s mistakes and make the US a better place,” I explain. This conversation is making me nervous.

“I’m just not easily trusting. You’re probably right,” she says.

“Yeah. I think we should get some rest. I’ll sleep on the floor.” I offer, my best attempt to end the conversation before anything else is said.

“We’re adults. We can just share. You know, summer camp style,” she rambles.

“Summer camp style?” I question.

“You know. You sleep with your head to the wall and I sleep with my head to the footboard?” her eyes sparkle.

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” We go to bed. I’m the one who ends up sleeping in the wrong direction, with my head at the footboard.

“Hey, I’m kind of falling off the bed. Can I put my feet on top of you?” she asks.

“Sure. Can I do the same?”

“Go ahead,” she says. So I do, scooting them over enough that my entire back is on the bed. My legs start cramping up from the awkward angle, but try to wait it out.

“Oh jeez, your feet are heavy,” she mutters at last.

“My bad.” I take them away and leave my right foot hanging off the bed. Oh, the things I will do to avoid conflict…

“Can we just sleep normally?” she asks after a minute. I get up again and re-situate myself. I flop my head onto the pillow next to hers. She looks at me. God she’s beautiful. But, maybe, I’m only thinking that because she’s currently lying incredibly close to me.

“Thank you. This is better. Isn’t it?” she says.

“Definitely.”

In the morning, I sit up and find her sitting criss-cross apple-sauce on the small chair. Her hair is messy, unbrushed from slumber. She sits in a white underdress. Her blue eyes meet mine.

“Good morning,” she says.

“What are you doing?”

“Got up kinda early. You snore,” she explains.

“Oh, sorry.”

She asks for my help lacing up the corset. I’m cautious not to touch her, but the lacing is intimate. John invites us to breakfast. His wife serves porridge.

“I think I’m going to walk Caroline to her brother’s and then I’ll meet you at the convention. We really appreciate your hospitality,” I say to Jon, as I finish my bowl.

“Sounds good. And anytime, sir,” he accepts. Cassidy and I step out of Jon’s home and follow the path into the city. The plan is to catch up with Max and Belle, then I’ll go back and sign the Constitution. In theory, the second I sign my name, we’ll jump to the next year. Cassidy and I walk side by side.

“So, Elliot, what’s your life like?” she asks me. Now, her hair’s messily fastened in a blue ribbon, which really brings out her eyes.

I snap out of staring at her to answer the question, “Uhm, I work for the Bureau. I live in Richmond, Virginia with my niece, Ava. And currently, I’m quite concerned about her. And what about you?”

“Your niece? How old is she?” she asks, her bright eyes meeting mine. I have to stop paying so much attention to her. It’s getting me distracted.

“Seven.”

“Oh... I’m sure she’s alright?”

“I hope so. Why do you live with your seven year old niece? If you don’t mind me asking?” I glance over at her; her arm is linked to mine. This is always the part I hate. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore to talk about, but I get tired of the same story and the same reaction.

“Her father murdered her mother, my sister,” I spill. Her face appears to go through about 12 emotions at once. It lands on a sympathetic one, her eyes widened, looking into mine.

“Oh my... I’m sorry, Elliot,” she says, just like the rest of them.

“Everyone is. So, what’s your life like?” I ask. Her puppy dog eyes just kill me.

“Well, I graduated college in May, and passed the Foreign Service Officer Exam. My first rotation is in Macedonia and I’ve lived there for 3 months now,” she says. I nod, contemplating a good follow-up question, which she interrupts my thoughts.

“Hey, look! It’s Belle and Max.” I spot them, too.

“Hey guys!” Belle says. I nod at Max who scowls a little.

“Where the hell have you two been?” he asks. I catch Cassidy rolling her eyes.

“Well, we attended the Constitutional Convention, I got the slave trade to end in 1800 and then we stayed at another representative’s house,” I say, feeling pretty good about myself, actually.

“Wow, thanks for including us,” Max grumbles.

“We fixed it. All that’s left is for him to sign the document. Calm down,” Cassidy says, her posture now tense.

“I’m just saying, it would’ve been nice to be involved,” he scoffs. Cassidy remains standoffish. Maybe I should play diplomat now. She really isn’t so great at conflict management.

“I think I need to go back to the convention. After I sign it, we should be at the next location. Perhaps, you can be the main man there?” I say, calmly. He doesn’t reply, but uncrosses his arms.

“Cassidy. Are you staying with us?” Belle asks, after a moment.

“Yeah, of course,” Cassidy says.

I go back to the Convention, alone.