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Chapter 3
Aloud, banging noise tore Isabella out of her sleep. It was bright out and the sun was shining, turning her struggles and fears from last night into a distant memory. She was cowering against the cold brick wall of a small alley, hiding behind a big, green container that had the word ‘dumpster’ written on it. For hours she had walked the streets of Philadelphia last night, looking for a church. They usually took care of the poor in her time, so she hoped the church’s kindness extended into the twenty-first century. Unfortunately for her, the two churches that she stumbled across were both locked. It was right there in front of a church called ‘His Mercy,’ when she noticed a man following her. She didn’t get a close enough look to confirm if it was the same man who had attacked her earlier, but whoever it was, she doubted that he only wanted to share a lovely cup of tea with her.
Isabella did the only thing that in that very moment made sense—run. As it turned out, her sixth sense did not fail her, as the man started to match her pace. Her heart beat wildly against her chest as she pulled up her dress and ran as fast she could. It was absolutely terrifying. She ran for her life, which wasn’t easy with high heels while dragging a heavily decorated train behind her. This guy, whoever it was, had all the advantage in the world over her and should have caught her to do God knows what with her. But ironically enough, the very train in the back of her dress that made the escape so difficult in the first place ultimately saved her. She had just turned into an unknown side street, unsure about how much longer she had it in her to keep running like this, when her legs tripped over the train and landed her flat on the pavement. Hidden behind the cars, she heard the man’s footsteps pass by her on the opposite side of the street. For how much longer she decided to stay there on the ground, afraid to even breathe, she didn’t know, but it was not until she heard the loud bark of an angry dog that she jolted back up on her feet. She rushed into an alley and hid behind the same dumpster that now had awoken her.
Isabella got up to stretch herself. She was hurt from the fall last night, skin bruised and clothes tattered, but she had no choice but to keep pushing forward into this strange, new world. She scouted the alley but nobody was there. Whoever had slammed the lid of the dumpster was now gone. Her white gloves and light pink dress were covered in dirt. Slowly, she stepped out of the alley and into the same street that had made her heart race and burn just a few hours ago. But unlike last night, there was light, real light as the warm sun made everything, for a moment, seem cheerful.
Fascinated by everybody and everything, Isabella surveyed the street. Everyone was dressed in male clothes, even the women. They were going about their business, riding bikes, walking their dogs. Was that a woman walking out of a bank? Were women allowed to have their own bank accounts here? It immediately stood out how much more independent women seemed to be in the twenty-first century. They were walking by themselves, without maids or a governess. It was almost as if women here were free to do what they pleased without others questioning their reputation. Isabella stared at a young man who must have been her age walking by with white ropes hanging out of his ears. The man gave her a strange look as he passed by without turning his head. Cars just like Liam’s were driving by, giving the whole scene a lively touch.
The sun felt incredibly good on her frozen face and she closed her eyes as if last night was just a bad dream and she was just another twenty-first century woman. How exciting this world was!
Wandering through the streets last night, she had seen the strangest, most intriguing things. Pictures in windows that were constantly moving, showing images as if they were real. She heard music out of apartment windows, like everybody had their own orchestra. Wherever she ended up being, the wonders around her seemed endless.
“Look,” she heard a little boy laugh and point at her. The boy's mother pulled him to the side and scolded him for making fun of her. She then gave a warm smile at Isabella, her way of apology.
“Kids can be cruel little bastards, you know,” a rough voice coughed from behind her. Isabella instantly turned around to find that it belonged to an old woman dressed in rags with thin, nonwoven bags hanging around her wrists. She had white, shoulder length hair and looked like she had been through a lot. “But at least you know where you’re at, if you know what I mean,” the woman continued. Whoever that woman was, she must have been homeless.
“I never looked at it that way, but I agree.” Isabella couldn’t help but dedicating her reply to the very symbol of deception—her mother. The lady came closer.
“Sorry for waking you earlier. I try to get to these dumpsters early, before the others make their rounds. There hasn’t been a single morning that I didn’t find something useful in them. Especially this green one—never disappoints if you know what I mean…” The woman looked back and forth in between the dumpster and Isabella, establishing a silent connection between them. That was definitely a hint that Isabella shouldn’t ignore. She knew exactly what this woman was talking about—her, she talked about finding her. From now on she needed to attract less attention. Isabella looked down at herself. This dress was a magnet for trouble. She needed to find clothes that didn't make her stand out like a flamingo in a flock of pigeons. Now, not later.
“That is good to hear. I wish you best of luck then. Will you excuse me?” Isabella walked down the street, but noticed the homeless lady following her out of the corner of her eye.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she wailed from behind.
“You didn’t.” Isabella didn’t stop.
The woman kept following her, squeezing in a few lengthy steps until she was walking right next to her.
“You look hungry.” She smiled wide enough to show a broken tooth. What was it with these people in twenty-first century not minding their own business?
“I am fine, thank you.” Isabella tried to pick up speed.
“Where are you from? Not from here, are you?”
“No, I am from… somewhere far away. Will you excuse me now?” Isabella turned into a side street and looked over her shoulder to catch a glimpse from behind. The woman stopped following her.
“Okay, but you look like a flamingo in a flock of pigeons.” Isabella came to an abrupt halt. Was she a mind reader? The cold reality of her situation hit her. This wasn’t a bad dream. She was trapped in some sort of other world, or time. Whatever was going on here, Isabella needed to get out of these clothes and find shelter. The thought of another night like the one she had just survived sent shivers down her spine. She had learned the hard way this was in fact more than she could handle—without help at least.
"There is no shame in accepting help, you know. And you look like you need plenty of that,” the old woman continued. Isabella turned round. The woman had raised some valid concerns. Up until last night, Isabella didn’t even have to tie her own shoes. What made her think that she was weathered enough to survive this alone? In a different country…CENTURY! Asking for help is a sign of strength, her father’s words repeated in her thoughts. He never lived by his own advice, which was the reason for his tragic downfall. No, she wouldn’t follow him down this path. This lady was right. She needed plenty of help.
Isabella heard her stomach growl so loudly she wondered if the old lady had heard it. “I was just on my way to get some breakfast at the church. You are welcome to join me." The woman pointed behind her down the street. Isabella took a good look at the woman from head to toe. Just like with Liam, none of her protective senses seem to go off. “To be honest, I did find myself in a rather peculiar situation, and wouldn’t mind some food and fresh clothes.”
“There you go.” The woman looked proud, as if she’d just returned a lost sheep to its shepherd. Why was she helping her?
“Just follow old Dan,” the woman said, turning around.
“Dan?”
“That’s me. Dan.” So women here had male names. Why not.
“Isabella.” The woman started walking toward the direction of the green dumpster again.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I will finish my rounds on the way to the Church.”
“Of course.” Isabella wasn’t sure what Dan was talking about but at this point it didn’t matter. She was willing to do whatever was required of her if that meant that she could get some food and could finally get into fresh, twenty-first century appropriate clothes.
“Next time we shall clarify ‘rounds’,” Isabella said out of breath as she pushed her shoulder into Dan’s butt so she could reach into what she swore to be the last dumpster. “Just a bit more, I almost got it…” Dan huffed back, out of breath.
