Carolyn walked into the empty classroom. She put her bag on the desk at the front of the room. She walked to the lectern. She stood behind it.
She studied the seats, considering every one of them. They would soon be full. She would continue to do what she had done for years. For decades.
The time had passed. She knew it would. It was one thing to be aware that it would happen. It was very different to arrive at the moment when it had.
Every day. Every week. Every month. Every year.
Gone.
Beyond the coming months, who knows what will happen? She still had four years to go to match the life expectancy for an American female. After that, it would all be borrowed time.
It felt that way already, or at least close to it. She always knew she’d make it this far. How much longer would she last? How much longer would she be able to do her work?
Roger was right; she’d never figure out how it happens. Some mysteries aren’t meant to be solved. But she could continue to help those it has happened to. To whom it has happened, she said, revising her thoughts in the interests of grammatical accuracy.
Her eyes crossed every seat in every row. She did it again. She considered getting the list from her bag. It wasn’t necessary. She’d committed all of the names to memory. Especially the most important ones.
She had developed her plan a long time ago. She had never considered changing it. Now that the time was approaching, she wondered whether she was doing the right thing. She’d never experienced this type of dilemma. She believed no one else ever had, either.
She scanned the seats again. One after another. Yes, they soon would be full. She knew that some wouldn’t believe what she would eventually tell them. Others would. Some would want to believe, despite themselves. None would imagine it could ever happen to them.
Over the years of studying it and talking about it and introducing the concept to the many students who met the information with goosebumps or Bronx cheers or something in between, she knew of it happening to none of them. And she had kept track of all of them. Many had died. None had disappeared without a trace.
She gripped the sides of the lectern. She dropped her head. She studied the lines of the wood from a tree that had grown from the earth without explanation. She placed her hands on the smooth surface. The blue veins under the thinning skin above bones turning brittle. The ravages of time.
She looked up and gave the seats one final pass.