For technological man time occupies the same role.
—Marshall McLuhan
Another World
I met up with Ember the following night and was jolted by the restaurant she selected. Sure, it was close to the university and a favourite among students but it was certainly not fine dining but takeout. I was confused.
"I already ordered for us," she said, "hope you don't mind."
"No, that's okay, but I thought we were dining in a quiet place where we could talk."
"We are. Be patient—you won't be eating off paper plates."
I wasn't so sure about that, but the pizza smelled delicious and the restaurant looked to be a very popular spot.
Two large boxes of pizza were brought to us and Ember simply handed both to me and said, "follow me."
"I thought we were sharing the cost," I called out, as I struggled to keep up with her fast stride.
"I didn't want to wait, You can pay next time," she called back.
Strange girl, I mused, so confident there will be a next time.
We entered an older low-rise apartment building that looked like it was built in the Depression Era and walked up two flights of stairs to the third floor.
"I have the penthouse suite," she deadpanned.
Hmm, saucy with a hint of sarcasm. Where does she get her boldness?
But when she opened her apartment door I felt I stepped back ninety years into the past.
Her apartment was tastefully furnished with vintage pieces from the Thirties.
The dining room was finished in Arts and Craft style with tall, redwood board-and-batten paneling which retained its original leather-like wall covering under the battens.
"Has time stood still here?" I asked, overwhelmed by the period charm.
"It feels that way sometime, especially at night with my Thirties records playing softly in the background."
I was being swept off my feet and knew it.
Get a grip, I commanded my mind and tried to steady myself by focussing on the view outside.
"Do you want to see the terrace?"
I thought she was joking until she opened the french doors that led out onto the roof. There were several rattan and wicker armchairs arranged around a matching table.
The view across the housetops was amazing.
"You live in a dream," I teased,
She looked dreamily into the distance. "That's true, I suppose. I feel I'm in a bygone time in the midst of the 21st century, so there's a temporal dislocation."
"That would take some getting used to," I whispered.
"Yes, but I don't think I've succeeded in doing that. There are always unexpected moments that surprise me. I think I was born in the wrong time or have memory of a past life—I haven't decided, but it's something like that."
I stared into her dark eyes and lost myself for a moment.
There was a slight frisson we both felt, but then it seemed the world wavered a little on its axis before ceasing its tilt.
"The pizza's getting cold," I said lamely.
"We mustn't forget to eat, or breathe, or do all the little things people do to stay alive," she smiled bleakly.
I felt for a moment there was a profound regret bottled up inside her and I stopped it from coming out.
"Alright, let's eat," she smiled brightly. It was a bit forced, but she was trying to be polite .
I followed her back inside where she lit candles and poured wine and we toasted the Thirties and all the ephemeral glamour our surroundings channeled from the past.
This was not at all how I expected our dinner to go, or her to react.
I sensed she was drawing on some hidden energy in me I scarcely knew was there. I was resisting for fear the undertow would carry me places where I no longer felt safe...
And yet, I felt safe with her.
I knew I didn't understand any of this and truly, it terrified me.