January 4
Back in her freshman dorm room for the first time in fifteen years, Monica was still reeling from the situation. But she was doing an admirable job keeping her wits about her. She remembered her roommate's name and managed to keep up conversations with the other girls in the dorm, though the subjects were so old they were foreign to her. She was able to find her way to the library, but was distraught to remember that it was closed at this time of night. There was no computer, there was no Internet. How did people do this?
The telephone operator. Finally, she had a solution, or rather, a way to take a small step in answering what had happened. There was an Officer Doggett, the woman at the station told her, but he wasn't on duty. She should call back in the morning.
Morning meant buying textbooks – following a very embarrassing trip to the registrars' office, for she had forgotten all of her courses. The Bible as Literature, Elementary Hebrew, the Religions of Southeast Asia, and Introduction to Latin Literature. As much as she'd loved school, she wasn't so thrilled with having to subject herself to it all over again. Especially given that some of it would be a review now. Might as well make the best of it, she figured. But first she had something to do.
"This is Officer Doggett."
"John!" Hearing his voice brought out all the emotion of the last two days and she found that she could not restrain herself. A few of the kids in the vicinity turned to look and made faces at her outburst.
"Monica?"
"Oh, god, John, you do remember. I knew you would."
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" he asked and then dropped his voice to a whisper. "You do remember the last 15 years, right? You remember working together? The X-files?"
"Yes, like it was yesterday. I don't understand what happened. I think maybe we should try and get together to figure it out."
"Where are you?"
"At Brown. Providence. You're over in New York, right?"
"Yeah. Look, I don't know when I can get up there. I'm... I'm working."
Monica gave a short huff of a laugh. "Lucky you, I'm in college all over again. I'll try and come over this weekend. Do you think you can get some time off?"
"I'll see what I can do. I can't talk now, though. Do you have a number I can reach you at?"
She gave him the number on the dorm phone and they hung up. So much for resolution. She was left to face university life again.
On Friday , as she was napping to recover from the sleep deprivation she'd already accumulated during the week, her roommate roused her. "Hey sleepyhead, you've got a call downstairs."
She was relieved to finally hear John's voice - the last half-dozen calls had been from her mother, who was still fretting over Adela and this John she'd mentioned, among a dozen other things.
"I can't talk long," he whispered. "But if you can make it to New York around 3 in the afternoon on Sunday, I can meet you at the train station, ok?"
"Ok." She interrupted him when he tried to end the call. "One more thing... you're married again, aren't you?"
"Yeah," he said in a voice that was neither happy nor sad.
"And... Luke?"
"Yeah, he's here. He's just a baby. He's..." John was getting choked up and Monica who'd known him so well for so long could easily tell.
"Hey, it's ok. I'm happy for you, John. I'll see you Sunday."