If I was teaching English back in 2023, I'd incorporate John Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath, a pivotal Great Depression novel. However, it wasn't published until 1939. The junior class was in the middle of Tom Hardy's Jude, the Obscure, a book I'd never read. I read Tess of the D'Urbervilles instead. The freshmen had just started Romeo and Juliet, and the sophomores were about to dive into the Red Badge of Courage, which coincided with the American Civil War. I looked forward to teaching that unit.

By noon, I was starving. Even if I left the school to search for food, I had no money. As my stomach growled, an older woman who resembled a stereotypical lunch lady entered the classroom with a tray of food. "I thought you might like some lunch," she said.

"Thank you," I said as she placed the tray on my desk. I recognized the spaghetti and tomato sauce, but I didn't recognize the soup. "What is this?" I asked.

"Pea soup."

I had no desire to eat green soup. The smell reminded me of rotting garbage. I would have preferred water, but I got milk. In the thirties, low fat milk didn't exist. Even though I hated whole milk, I drank it. Now wasn't the time to be a picky eater.

As I twirled my overcooked spaghetti on my fork, I counted the stars on the American flag; Forty-eight, not fifty. Both Alaska and Hawaii became states in 1959. During my lunch period, I reviewed the remaining lesson plans for the day. After this week, I'd create my own.

At three o'clock, Jimmy met me outside the school, like he said he would. By then, the snow had stopped. All the surrounding buildings and sites distracted me. Not paying attention to the snow-covered roads, I tripped and fell twice. With the antique cars on the road, I felt like I was on a movie set. As Jimmy and I crossed the street, I nearly got hit by a car. I would have gotten hit if the driver hadn't beeped at me.

"You gotta pay attention," Jimmy said. "The roads are slippery, and there's a lot of bad drivers out there."

"Where are we going?"

"To my house."

"And where 's your house?"

"The Highlands."

I lived in the Highlands, one of the more residential neighborhoods in Lowell. My house was built in 1962, though. "We're walking all the way to the Highlands?"

"It's only a couple of miles."

Even though it was only two miles from downtown, it would still take forty minutes to walk two miles in the snowy Massachusetts winter.

We walked through downtown, along the cobblestone streets. Many of the building's facades were recognizable. As we headed down Merrimack Street, we passed a building that was now Community Teamworks, an organization in Lowell that assists homeless and the disadvantaged. But this wasn't Community Teamworks; rather, it was the infamous Bon Marché Department Store, first opened in 1878 and considered one of the largest department stores in the country. The store sold almost every product a family needed. In the seventies, it was sold and turned into Jordan Marsh department store. Jordan Marsh didn't survive, either, thanks to the creation and popularity of shopping malls.

In 1950, Jack Kerouac, a native of Lowell, held a book signing here launching his first novel, The Town and the City. In complete awe, I admired the Victorian style fronting, wondering if my grandparents or great grandparents shopped here. I bet they did.

"We have to keep going," Jimmy said. "It's getting colder out."

"Yeah, I'm coming."

As we made our way out of downtown Lowell, we came across more vacant mill buildings and a bank that was temporarily closed. The city became more unrecognizable the farther out we went. "I have to warn you about Teddy," Jimmy said. "He's not too happy you've taken over his space."

"Who's Teddy?"

"My brother, the one who writes for The Lowell Sun. He's gotta get over it, though. It's only for a month."

We trudged up the steep hill of B Street, ending at the last house on the street. Jimmy led me up the short driveway and to the side door of a small, blue colonial home. Each house on the street was nearly identical. Some houses were white, others were tan or gray.

"Hi, Mom, we're home!" Jimmy announced as we stepped into the small foyer. There, we removed our shoes, hats, and coats.

We walked from the foyer into the kitchen-dining room. The long, rectangular table filled up the room. An older woman in an apron stood at the stove, hovering over a pot. I cringed at the stench of baked beans, one of my least favorite foods. Erin loved baked beans and franks, but the smell made me sick.

"Mom, this is Eric," Jimmy said.

"Hi, Eric," she said flatly, wiping her hands on a rag. "I assume you'll pay room and board."

"Um... uh..." I was at a loss for words since I didn't know when, how, or how much I would be paid.

"Of course he'll pay room and board," Jimmy said.

"He better."

Besides the foul smelling pot on the stove, I experienced a chilly welcome from what appeared to be a miserable woman. Her dour expression and attitude didn't match Jimmy's bubbly, jovial one.

Jimmy and I passed through a doorway and into the living room, or parlor as they called it. A little blond-haired girl sat on the floor, brushing a doll's hair. An older man sat on an armchair, reading a newspaper. "That's Millie, my baby sister," Jimmy said, pointing to the little girl.

"Hi," Millie said. "I'm seven."

"It's nice to meet you, Millie," I said.

"That's my dad," Jimmy pointed out.

"Get a job yet?" his father asked him, not looking up from his newspaper.

"No, did you?" Jimmy responded.

"Eh, you know how it is. Who's your friend?"

"This is Eric. Remember, I told you he's taking Ms. Tremblay's place while she's out sick?"

"Oh, yeah," he grumbled. "Welcome. Good luck with Teddy. I told him to behave. We'll see if he listens."

"Yeah," Jimmy sighed. "Come on, I'll show you where you're staying."

I followed Jimmy up a narrow staircase. The top of the stairs opened up to the only bathroom in the house, the walls adorned with peeling floral wallpaper. To the left, was a large bedroom, with two smaller bedrooms tucked away to the right.

"Me and Billy sleep down there," he said, gesturing towards one of the smaller bedrooms. "Teddy used to sleep in that room, too. George got the attic, but when George left to ride the rails, Teddy moved up there. He's back with us for the month. Helen and Millie sleep in that room and Dorothy and Margaret sleep in that one. Mary used to sleep in there, too, but she's married now, has three kids of her own."

"You have eight brothers and sisters?"

"I had ten. Edith died when she was a baby before I was born, and Irene died of scarlet fever two years ago. She was three. It hit my mother hard... hasn't been the same since."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Jimmy avoided talking about his deceased sisters. "Let's see if I get this right... Mary's twenty-seven, George is twenty-three, Dorothy's eighteen, Margaret's sixteen, Helen's fourteen, and Billy's eleven."

"You forgot Teddy," I said.

"Yeah, Teddy. He's twenty-one."

"I'm twenty-two," an unfamiliar voice said from behind us.

Jimmy and I turned around to find a young man, tall and lanky with messy light brown hair and brown eyes. His full lips were dry and chapped, his shirt sleeves rolled up sloppily. He wore suspenders that held up his baggy pants. He reminded me of Titanic's Leonardo DiCaprio, except this young man's eyes were far bigger and brown. If I remembered correctly, Leonardo DiCaprio had hazel eyes or were they green? Unlike this young man, whom I concluded was Teddy, Jimmy had a movie star kind of quality to him: blond with blue eyes, like James Dean. Teddy was more of the brooding, artistic type. I pictured him in all black with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"This is Teddy," Jimmy said.

"And you're Eric," Teddy said with his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Eric what?"

"Gagnon," I answered.

"Related to the Gagnons in Little Canada?"

"Where's Little Canada?"

"Where are you from? Mars? It's by the Acre. I know everyone in this city, and I don't know you."

"He's not from around here," Jimmy said. "Go away, Ted. I'm gonna show him his room."

"It's my room. You better not touch my stuff!" Teddy shouted as Jimmy led me down the hall.

At the far end of the hallway, Jimmy reached for a string and pulled down the attic's folding wooden ladder. "If you have to go to the bathroom at night, be careful," he said. "Teddy's tripped a dozen times. He's the biggest klutz in the world. Don't tell him I said that or I'll wake up with him holding a pillow over my face."

"That sounds kinda scary. Should I stay away from him?"

"Yes, definitely."

Jimmy climbed the ladder first. Sensing Teddy's eyes still on us, I glanced over my shoulder to see him frowning and standing with his arms folded across his chest. He sort of amused me. I stuck my tongue out at him. Smirking, he gave me the middle finger. I liked his spunkiness.

"Hey, Eric, are you coming?" Jimmy said from the top of the ladder. "Gimme your suitcase first."

I did as he said, stepping onto the ladder. Only one dim light lit the attic. A flashlight rested on top of a stack of books on the nightstand. A desk sat in the corner with more books stacked on top. "There's only one electrical outlet up here," Jimmy explained. "So Teddy uses a flashlight to read and write. We used to have a lantern, but no one can find it. It's probably in the cellar. Make yourself at home. Dinner'll be ready in an hour."

So far, Jimmy and the little girl were the nicest.

Sitting on the neatly made twin bed, I kicked off my shoes, undoing my tie at the same time. I undressed down to my underwear and got into bed, bringing the covers up to my chin. I left my suitcase unopened on the floor.

Finally alone, I realized I was still wearing my Apple watch with the rainbow wristband Erin got me the year before she died. The rainbow didn't become an LGBTQ symbol until the seventies. Since I didn't want anyone questioning why a man was wearing a rainbow colored bracelet, I removed my dead Apple watch and tossed it on the nightstand.

After my doze, I expected to wake up in my own queen-sized bed with my Smart TV and a dozen messages from my friends who'd been worried about me these past few months.

In my world of grief, I ignored the fact that I had a dozen good friends who were like family to me, people I'd taken for granted since Erin died. My best friend, Megan, came over almost every night. We'd have a beer and watch Friends, her favorite show. I'd do anything to talk to her right now. Maybe if I chanted There's no place like home, clicking my heels three times like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, I'd wake up in 2023.

Drifting off, I entered a realm of nothingness. Sometimes that was the best type of sleep. I didn't want to wake up and was annoyed that someone shook my shoulders when all I wanted to do was sleep. I swatted him away. "Wake up if you wanna eat," the man said.

Damn it. I was still in 1935 with Teddy hovering over me, shaking me awake.

"Geez, you're a sound sleeper," he said.

"Go away," I muttered.

"Fine, but you'll just have to go hungry. Dinner is at six, and if you miss it, that's it. My mother won't make anything else."

I sat up, rubbing the back of my head, yawning and half asleep. "No offense to you and your family, but I don't want to be here," I said, shivering despite the blankets covering me. "How do you live up here? It's freezing!"

"I usually sleep in pajamas. Don't you have any?"

"I don't know."

"Don't you know what you packed?"

"I can't remember," I lied.

"Well, are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"Then get dressed and come downstairs."

Was I hungry enough to eat baked beans?

Maybe.

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