A gentle knocking that grew louder and louder woke me from another nightmare. It was a dream that I'd had occasionally even before the summer I met Pete. The one where I was little and I fell from Grandpa Walt's boat into the river during a storm. The sky was dark and menacing and the rough waves towered over my head and then a familiar boy with terror in his brown eyes appeared and grabbed onto my life jacket. I always woke up before we were rescued. We were forever frozen there in the water, teeth chattering, staring at each other.

"Vanessa! Get up!" Jackie's voice carried through the door. "Get dressed and get moving!"

Jackie never woke me up. She never really bothered me at all, actually. She and Dad got married when I was thirteen and I probably gave off some "I don't need another parent" vibes back then. Her two kids were already in college at the time and Jason was seventeen, so Jackie was probably over parenting teenagers anyway. We were never very close, but we peacefully coexisted, kind of like roommates maybe.

"What's wrong?" My heart was still pounding from the dream and I sounded shrill and panicked.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm taking you to an estate sale. This is one you can't miss."

She explained in the car, while she drove and I nibbled on a dry, gag-inducing packaged breakfast bar.

"This lady was over a hundred years old and still lived in a huge house, with some help, of course. She was an actress way back in the day, and married a millionaire, but he passed away decades ago. She was from Port Huron and moved back after he died. It's worth going just to see the house, it's incredible. And it's like she kept everything she ever wore. You're gonna love it."

I hoped she was right. I felt like crap and kind of wished I was still in bed. I was achy, tired and lethargic. Maybe it was from feeling so chilly and tense during the football game or because I was coming down with a cold or something. I remembered how I was always so tired immediately after time-traveling. What did Liz call the time reversing and speeding up thing? Time manipulation? Maybe I had a time manipulation induced hangover from the cheerleader incident.

Jackie drove us to the north side of Port Huron, past the bridge to Canada and to the point where the St. Clair River widened into Lake Huron. As soon as we turned at the estate sale sign, it was already clear that the owner had a flair for the dramatic; the grey stone house had a sweeping view of the blue lake, two turrets, and a staircase worthy of a small European palace.

It was even better on the inside. The living and dining rooms were dark, glittering and expansive. The furniture was all elaborately carved dark wood. There were chandeliers dripping with crystals and peacocks everywhere. Glass lamps shaped like peacocks, peacock figurines, peacock feathers in vases and an entire bathroom tiled in brilliant peacock blue and green. She had a collection of beaded and feathered masquerade masks in a glass cabinet and oil paintings in gold frames on the walls.

"Why is all this stuff still here?" I asked Jackie. "Wasn't it open yesterday?"

"Nobody likes this style of furniture anymore. Nobody uses fine china. She lived in a different world."

It seemed normal to wander the first floor, where the owner of the home must have entertained guests at some point, but when we went upstairs, it felt invasive. I hesitated at the doorway to the first bedroom, which was surprisingly bright and cozy, with pale pink carpeting, delicate lace curtains and a colorful quilt on the bed.

There wasn't only one closet full of clothes, there was one in each of the six bedrooms. Long wool coats in jewel tones, sparkling evening gowns, designer day dresses with full skirts and tiny waists that I could at least appreciate, if not fit into.

I found a black silk drop waist dress with a lace overlay and pulled it out of one closet. The handkerchief hem of the delicate skirt fluttered and I held my breath, afraid that disturbing the dress would make it crumble to the floor into a pile of ashes.

"Stupid question," I whispered to Jackie, "is this actually from the twenties? It looks like it is, but, like, how?"

Jackie lifted the overlay to reveal a few holes in the lace and pointed out a rip along the edge of the low scooped back. "Well, it's not perfect."

"Okay, good. I can't do perfect, but I can do this. Then I can't ruin it, right?"

She shrugged. "If it speaks to you, get it."

It definitely spoke to me, and it said "Twenties with a twist." I just had to add the twist.

~~~~~

After a long shift at the Shipyard that night, and after I'd washed the smell of fried foods from my hair, I tried on the black dress. It fit me, and the lace and silk swished and floated as I swayed, just as I'd hoped. But I was afraid to sit down while wearing it, so I put earbuds in and danced around my room while I searched on my phone for 1920s Halloween costume ideas.

I stopped when I caught a glimpse of Pete in the beach photo on the wall. Was the last time I danced when I was with him? I needed to dance more, whether it was solo or otherwise. Between the estate sale and a busy shift, and my excitement about putting together a costume, I hadn't thought of him as much that day. And once I did, it hit me hard, like a sponge had soaked up all the unacknowledged thoughts and feelings and being reminded of him was like squeezing the sponge and they all came out at once.

Eric had texted me while he was at the Homecoming dance, but when I saw his messages right after work I didn't know how to respond or if I should even bother.

I read them again.

Wish you were here

Even though you'd probably hate this

It would be fun to watch you hate it

I was tired of feeling this way. I wanted to feel relaxed and happy more often, like how I'd felt while I was dancing around my room, before I saw Pete's face. I took the photo down, tucked it between the pages of a book from my nightstand and picked up my phone.

Vanessa: I'm glad you find my simmering rage amusing, but I actually like school dances

Eric: Ironically?

Vanessa: Believe it or not, I like getting dressed up and I love dancing

Eric: Really?

Vanessa: Yes, really.

Eric: Prom?

Vanessa: Settle down, it's October

Vanessa: You've got at least 7 short-lived relationships to fit in before prom, one of them might want to go with you

After several seconds of a flashing "...", Eric eventually sent a flushed face embarrassed emoji.

That night, Pete appeared in my dreams as I knew him and not as a scared kid clutching to me in the river. We were at the Pictured Rocks Lakeshore in the Upper Peninsula, a popular destination where miles of cliffs sculpted by Lake Superior were stained orange, brown, white and green by minerals in the ground. We were on a boat with a glass bottom that gave us a clear view of the rocks below, tinted aquamarine and jade. The sky was clear and the waves were gentle and nobody was drowning.