AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“There it is!” Without warning she pushed herself back out of the dumpster, causing Isabella to tumble backwards onto her butt. “Will you look at this? One woman’s trash is another woman’s gold.” With a big grin, Dan held up a pair of broken glasses. She put them on and locked her gaze onto Isabella. “I knew you were a lady, but I had no idea how pretty you were.” Dan walked right in front of her and stretched her hand out, but just when Isabella reached for her hand to help her back up on her feet, Dan bent over right next to her, picking up a quarter while Isabella lost her balance again, landing on the same spot with her butt on the floor for the second time since she’d met Dan. “Will you look at that…” Dan said with an excited voice, holding the quarter into the air.
Isabella let out an exasperated sigh. This woman was not easy to be around. However, she had taken the time to run after her and offer her help. It wouldn’t be right to complain about anything at this point.
“What are you doing there on the floor? Didn’t you say you were hungry?”
“No, not at all, Dan…” She got back up and brushed the dirt off her filthy dress that less than twenty-four hours ago was the latest Victorian fashion.
“Well let’s make another round east then. The dumpsters there—”
“No! Please! I was being sarcastic. I am starving.”
“Oooooh, sarcasm, I see. How unusual for a lady. But I guess those times are behind you now.” There it was again. Dan mentioned the word lady. Strangely enough she talked as if she knew who Isabella was. But that was impossible, of course. “I know you're hungry but it might be wise to get you some clothes first. You're a bit out of fashion, I’m afraid.”
“That would be very kind if you could help with that.”
“No worries. You're with Dan now. Well, don’t just stand there. There's a store right around this corner.”
Dan led Isabella to a small clothing store that was, as she said, around the corner. The freedom women had in the twenty-first century to choose their own fashion was something Isabella had admired since last night when she’d passed by several shop windows. Women were dressed comfortably, like men, in pants and shirts, showing arms and legs. How simple it must be to put these clothes on. A stark contrast to what she’d had to go through every single day in 1881. Dressing was no easy task for a Victorian lady. First there was the uncomfortable, fluffy underwear, followed by the squeezing-all-air-out corset, followed by the corset outerwear, followed by the actual dress, topped with countless accessories as without those, a proper woman was not considered dressed.
Like a Christmas tree, servants would put on gloves, hat, undersleeves, ruffles, a shawl, parasol and fan. One simply didn’t just pull up pants and put on a shirt and be considered dressed. And what for? All that effort just so that men had something nice to look at to make themselves feel fuzzy on the inside…exactly like a Christmas tree. Hours, every day, wasted simply because men wanted it that way.
A feeling of joy overcame Isabella when they entered the store and she picked up a pair of jeans as if it was the most normal thing to do. “Are you certain this is deemed acceptable to wear? I can put this on all by myself!” Isabella giggled like a child in a candy store. The owner of the shop, a young woman wearing too much makeup, now stepped closer, analyzing first Isabella and then Dan with an arrogant look. “This is not a charity place. Get out before you make things dirty!” she scowled.
“Don’t wet your panties, we have money to pay,” Dan growled and the shop owner mumbled something, but didn’t interfere any further. Isabella, flabbergasted, felt a pang of guilt as she stared at Dan's money. “Gosh, Dan, I am so sorry. How childish I must seem to you, coming here without money.” Naive and childish indeed. Of course, she needed money to purchase clothes. Although she had never paid in person before—her servants would do that—she wasn’t from the moon either and knew that things weren’t free. Embarrassed, she quickly put the pants back. “I don’t have any money.” She looked down onto the floor.
“Of course not,“ Dan said in a calming gesture, waving her hands. Was it her looks? The fact that she slept next to a dumpster? How did she know? “I cannot take that from you, Dan.” And she couldn’t. Dan was poor, homeless and had to go through rubbish to make ends meet. How could she take that money from her? “I won’t take no for an answer, child." Her tone was unyielding. "I have nothing else to spend it on but cat food anyway. And those stray little bastards will be fine for a few days. They are way tougher than all of us street folks combined.” She nodded her head. Isabella was moved. To everyone, this woman was nothing more than some homeless person dressed in rags. But to Isabella, she was one of the kindest people she had ever met and wondered how her life would have been if her mother was, at least the slightest bit, like Dan. Who else would give away money in her situation? She hated the fact that she would have to accept Dan’s offer without giving something in return. So, she took off her earrings and necklace. Not the finest piece she possessed but real pearls nonetheless. “Here. I shall trade you instead.”
Dan shook her head. “That is too much. I won’t have none of that nonsense.” She waved her frail hands. “Well, we have to leave then, and I shall stay in my filthy, wet, cold, and thanks to you, now also rubbish-stained dress.” Isabella grinned knowing she had just won the argument, but Dan needed another little push. “Just keep it safe for me until I can repay you, please.” Isabella handed her the earrings. “The cats. Until you can repay the cats,” Dan corrected her. “Yes of course,” Isabella agreed, handing her jewelry to Dan who this time accepted it with a growl. “Blackmail,” Dan mumbled to herself. The shop owner peeked over a rack of clothes, carefully watching their every move with eagle eyes. Isabella started browsing the shop, picking up a few things that were the least expensive.
The store had some sort of buy one get one free promotion as they called it, so she ended up with two pairs of jeans, two black wool sweaters, and a pair of some sort of running shoes. She didn’t need a coat as she still had Liam’s, and although it was way too big, it was warm. It didn’t matter to her right now what she would look like. Surviving was more important. Isabella stopped in front of the shop’s mirror on her way out to get a closer look at her outfit. It was amazing. She looked just like all the other women passing by on the streets now. Her whole life she had been raised only to wear the finest clothes and was expected to look down on others. To have servants pamper her like an infant, regardless of her age, but not any more… No… She was her own woman now. A woman wearing jeans and wool sweaters, and running shoes… A free woman with a life in America. And although her life here had seemed hopeless hours ago, thanks to Dan, she now had a chance at it.
The church Dan was taking Isabella to was just a few streets away. Now that it was later in the morning, the streets were buzzing with life and the walkways were littered with people who flooded the streets, coming from every corner. Cars were honking, dogs were barking, and buskers were playing music entertaining those who walked by. The twenty-first century was as overwhelming to Isabella as it was stunning. She could barely walk straight as her body shifted from left to right, taking in every little view that the city had to offer as she stopped here and there and pointed at things with her mouth and eyes wide open in disbelief. A young man stopped next to them at the light that would tell you to stop or cross the street. He had one of his feet on some sort of rolling cart that had handles. Isabella was is such awe, she grabbed it by the handle and turned to Dan with a big smile. “It’s a rolling foot cart!” she blabbered. The young man threw her an angry look. “It’s a scooter,” Dan said patiently while pulling her hand back off its handle. “Crackhead,” the young man hissed, rolling his eyes, and rolled off as fast as he could as soon at the light turned green. “I’m a crackhead?” Isabella asked Dan, confused. “No…you ain’t no crackhead.” Dan dragged her across the street before the light turned red again. “Come on now, I’ll explain things to you on our way.” Dan obviously seemed to have noticed how much Isabella struggled to take everything in and decided to speed things up by dragging her and commenting on the people who walked by as if she was trying to help her understand this world from scratch.
“Business man,” Dan said when a man in a modern version of a day suit walked by. “Student with a backpack,” she continued. “Old woman dragging a dolly with groceries. Another student holding a device called cellphone. Friends going for coffee…” Dan went on and on, commenting on almost every single person who passed by. Isabella nodded in total awe at everything and everyone. Suddenly, she stopped as she noticed a big rectangular box mounted to a wall behind in one of the shop windows. It had music coming out of it and looked like a reflection of the real world. Like a child, Isabella pressed her nose against the window, staring at the box with a huge smile and sparkling eyes. “Dan! Look! Over here!” This box is playing photographs in color!” she shouted, barely able to control herself. Dan walked a few steps back to join her. “That’s called a tv. The photographs you see are real.” Isabella was about to ask how this was even possible when she realized how strange she must seem. Like an insane person, ready to be locked away in an asylum. She took a few steps back from the window and stared at the floor.
“What is it?” Dan asked.
“Don’t you think me strange?” Her voice was so low, it almost sounded like a whisper. How could she not? Isabella was acting like a little child. Everything was new to her. That would have been understandable if people knew that she had time-traveled here from the past. But that was part of the problem—nobody knew that!
“No, not necessarily,” Dan said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You know, there was this guy at the Church who talks to bedbugs.” Dan shook her head, thinking back. “Now that's what I find strange. But you?" She stared at her with her wrinkly face and cracked glasses. "You not so much,” and ended with a warm smile. Isabella was not convinced. Why was Dan helping her? Being kind to her? She had to make things look as normal as she could, even in front of Dan who seemingly accepted her for who she was. “I suffered from a head injury. It makes me forget things,” Isabella said, trying to make an excuse for her odd behavior. Dan grimaced as if she did not buy that at all. “That’s a good idea. Let’s tell other people that so they don’t think you're psychotic.” She nodded in approval over her own idea. “Psychotic?” Isabella asked. She'd never heard of the word before. Dan grabbed her arm and gently pulled her down the street again. She leaned close to her ear. “You know. Crazy… talking to plants… hearing voices… dancing naked around trees… those type of things.” Isabella crossed her arms. “Well, I am certainly not psychotic.“
Dan took a deep breath, shaking her head in a mix of annoyance and sympathy. “I know that. But others might not.” She grabbed Isabella’s arm again and said in a soft, caring tone, “Come on now. I’m hungry. We will figure things out down the road.” Isabella’s stomach growled like a tiger’s roar. “Yes, I am quite hungry myself.” She took a good look at Dan's face for a brief moment. Her instincts told her that she was no threat, and only wanted to help. It reminded her of the carriage driver last night and how, deeply worried, he’d held her in his arms. She wondered where he must have been by now, and when she realized that her mind had wandered in thought, she shook her head to jolt herself back into the present. “I didn’t mean to be harsh. Thank you for helping me.”
“Let’s go then,” Dan said. “I’m getting hangry.”
With a heart so filled with emotions it was ready to bust, Isabella followed Dan down the street into a new chapter of her twenty-first century life as a free woman.
