The sun is rising on my face. It was a long drive but we must have made it to Atlanta by now. I open my eyes. I am not in a seat. I am not even in the minivan. In fact, I don’t even see the minivan. My three sons are curled up next to me with their heads on my legs. They are familiar but the rest of the world is not. I sit up a bit more pulling Anil into my arms to keep him from waking. The cars are shaped differently. I have never seen anything like them before. Where are we?

“Ashwin, Santosh,” I pull on their shirts lightly. “It’s time to wake up.”

I would have to keep Anil held tightly. He would panic with this change in environment. I expected Ashwin would retreat within himself and Santosh will be calm. The boys yawned and stood up. Santosh reached down to help me stand up with my free hand. He had grown into a considerate young man at 14. As I turned around to look at the area better, a chill goes down my spine. I immediately turn around and put my finger in front of my lips and sent the gesture towards Ashwin and Santosh.

The confederate flag. Huge. Everywhere. I scan the area around us. What do I do? Where did the year 2007 go? Is this America? This can’t be Atlanta, can it? Where is Ivan? Where’s Alexei? I notice a few angry glances in my family’s direction. It would not be long be long before trouble found us. I am a black woman, but my children are not black. My husband was not here. I could hardly defend myself and my children certainly could not. What would happen to us?

I sigh and tell my boys, “We must stay calm. I don’t know what’s happening but we must stay calm and together.”

Just then a strange vehicle pulls up next to us. A tall man opens the rear door and walks towards me. He reaches for my free hand. “Asha, my name is Sergei. I am a relative of Ivan. For the safety of you and your family, please get in.” He gestures towards the open door.

I hesitate and look around. I hear the laughter as those around us joke about the runaway slave. It boggles my mind that they mean me. I look at Sergei’s face. Well, he has Ivan’s chin and blue eyes, but brown hair instead of blond. I notice he has a very pensive smile. It seems he might be panicked but is careful not to scare the children. He looks directly into my eyes. He knows about the children. I must decide right now to trust or not to trust.

A police siren. A police vehicle has parked in front of Sergei’s van. “Please get in, babushka.” The siren woke Anil. He puts his feet down suddenly on the sidewalk and begins to wail. A ten year old crying like a toddler is quite unpleasant. I quickly move to the van and put him inside. Ashwin and Santosh follow me. Neither had good social skills but they know they do not wish to be apart from me. Once inside the vehicle, Anil is calmer and quiets down. Ashwin and Santosh just stare back at the people who walk closer to the vehicle. Had they never seen interracial children before? I see Sergei talking to the officer and showing him a piece of paper.

“Ma’am”. I notice the driver is reaching back to hand me a bag. “You are safe now. We will get you back to Ivan. Puzhalsta, some fruit for you and the kids. Please eat.”

“Thank you,” I nod back. I quickly give Santosh an apple, Ashwin the plum and peel the banana for Anil. I take a peach and sigh as I eat it.

Finally Sergei has returned to the front passenger’s seat. He gestures to the driver without a word and we are moving. “We will be on the road for another 12 hours before we will be safe. I don’t how to explain what has happened to you. It is difficult living with a scientist interested in quantum physics, eh?”

“Yes,” I answer, “he has been his own guinea pig but never involved us before.”

“Um,” Sergei answers, “I will let him give his own regrets. You’ve entered a random gap in time space, not one he created. He was worried you might blame him for this. That thought alone made him quite ill, or he would be here now.”

“Mommy, I don’t feel so well.” Anil held his stomach after finishing the banana. He was the smallest so it was most common that he was ill before the rest of us.

Sergei immediately produced six tablets in his outstretched hand. “You will want to take these. It will calm your stomachs and prevent the headache and discomfort that usually follows when a human body is subjected to a quantum reality shift. One for them, two for you, Asha.”

“Spasiba,” I answered.

He was speaking the language of science that reminded me most of Ivan so I was compelled to use the one phrase I knew in Russian. Medicine for time travel sickness. It was an amazing world of science I could not have imagined knowing before Ivan. Before very long, the kids have finished eaten and fallen asleep in the seats. I longed for Ivan as much as any wife could. He had been driving with one hand holding mine as I fell asleep. His touch was the last thing I remembered before waking up here. Ivan was a large man, tall and broad shouldered but he also been so very gentle and kind. He had been the ideal husband for me without him even making an effort to be so. In return, I was his ideal wife as well. We just were. Effortless, it had been. Eternal love was in fact a bit on the eerie side.

I felt the need for small talk. I felt very disconnected to the world around me at this moment. I was not fearful at the moment but still quite apprehensive. I was now sitting in the vehicle with my back to Sergei in a type of club chair so I was not afraid my voice talking would not disturb the boys.

“Sergei, so tell me. The civil war didn’t happen here in this alternate world, then?”

“Correct. No civil war. Lincoln was assassinated prior to the Emancipation Proclamation that occurred in your time. There was no end to slavery in this part of the country. It is a separate nation from the states of the north. History, technology, transportation, everything so much splinters off from that very event.“

“How are you related to Ivan?” I ask.

“I am his grandson.” he says. “And you are considered our grandmother, Asha.”

I nod though he cannot see it. Sergei is the child of Ivan’s son Alexei. It makes sense that it was possible. But Alexei had been only six years old the last time I had seen him. And Sergei was in his 20’s or 30’s on top of that. I wondered how many years had passed in what had been just a moment for me and my sons.

“I am responsible for the research into genetics and quantum physics that helped us find you in the multiple planes,” Sergei added. “I am from the future and a different plane, not even the present time and plane so unfortunately it is quite confusing to explain relationships. But my grandfather could not survive much longer without you so a way had to be discovered. It has taken many years and many attempts for this moment to occur.”

“What a vacation gone wrong.” I summed up my feelings

“Indeed,” he answered. “Now get some rest, babushka.”

I sang a simple sloka to Sri Ganesha for good fortune in our journey. I begged the divine power’s forgiveness for not saying my prayers earlier. The situation was entirely confusing. I did not expect to have this adventure on a 3 day weekend. Ivan and I had been traveling to Atlanta, GA for a family reunion.

I close my eyes and begin to think of Ivan immediately. I remember the first time we met on campus. I was leaving the campus book store as he was walking in. Like a slapstick comedy movie gone wrong, we collided. We both had had the bad habit of reading while walking. We quickly apologized, smiled briefly and moved on. He had long blond hair almost to his waist and blue eyes. He was not really my type at all. I certainly did not think he would be interested in the likes of me. My hair was dark, short, and straight only for the moment. My complexion was dark as I was an all American mutt of multiple genetic collisions. We were typical in appearance to any student you could find on any college campus in America but we perhaps had been a bit older.

This was the first college in the entire nation that had developed a special experimental program helping single parents and their kids as a priority. This program targeted single parents with high IQ’s and employable skills but low income and/or no bachelors degree. It added IQ testing to the usual college entrance exams and restricted this program only to single parents, especially the divorced or widowed. The program was the only way for me to finish my final year of a bachelors’ decree. I was an extreme parenting survivor. All three of my kids have special needs distributed through an entire realm of disabilities. My parents had not been supportive of my desire to go to college so I delayed starting my education until I turned 24. I then found myself pregnant at 26 and completed less than two years of college as a part time student. So my unfortunate marriage began there. Before long I found out that he considered me his property and I was not allowed to finish my degree. I attended college on line to complete some more credits but before long he put an end to that. So at 36, I had 3 special needs kids, but not enough recent work experience to get a decent job. I had finally chosen the path of least resistance and decided to earn a degree.

The program featured family accommodations in a special area on campus. This section, called Mamta, was like a modern co-housing community. Each family had a small townhouse but shared a large common area. It was located next to the elementary school and across from the main campus building. A small childcare center was built into a unit of our compound secured by security gates and fences all around. Our college was also convenient to all the best schools of the northeast within a short drive or train ride. Although we started as just poor students all of us got a chance to participate in some conferences that would improve our futures. The features of the Mamta community gave the students without partners a chance to socialize and support each other. No one in our group ever missed a class, exam or anything else because of a sick child or public school holidays. We worked together as a group to benefit all of us.

I had just moved into our unit last week and just unfinished packing. The program even helped with relocation expenses for top scoring students who lived far from the school. All obstacles for success had been removed for 124 well deserving single parents. Tonight was the first night I agreed to let my kids outside to play, now that I had finished unpacking. Santosh and Anil rode their bikes in the courtyard. They easily found new friends to play with since every house had a child. Ashvin had Asperger’s syndrome and usually kept to himself. He played quietly pushing a toy truck along the ground. Occasionally he would begin chasing his brothers and the other children. For me, just being outside sitting on the grass under the trees with a book felt very good. It mattered very little that it was a textbook.

A little boy new to the community approached Ashwin and began to play with him. He had brought a truck of his own from inside. His mother or father seemed to still be inside, likely still trying to make dinner. I sympathized with them, having seen the moving van leave just a few hours before. I could not watch someone in need and not help. I walked to the front door and knocked on the open door.

“Coming.” I heard a male voice call back. He smiles as he comes to the door. It is the long haired blond from earlier today.

“Hi neighbor, I saw your moving truck earlier.” He shook my hand as I talked. Wait, what was that? How could there be static electricity outside here? “I wanted to be neighborly and ask you to join us for dinner. The community dining hour has already passed.”

“Yes, we would appreciate that. ” he sighed with relief, “I seem to be unable to find the box with the pots and pans. Not to mention the empty refrigerator syndrome.” He spoke with a light accent that I could not place.

That’s how it all began. A random meeting, followed by a simple meal with very big consequences. The courtship did not begin until we discovered we worshiped at the same place. It was a pleasant courtship where our kids played together while we enjoyed each other’s company. It seemed as though we were equally matched in abilities. What one of us could do the other could not. So we had a constant give and take and our kids seemed to benefit. We lived across the courtyard from each other for the next semester, but married at the beginning of the next semester. We had half a year to finish our bachelors degree program so Mamta’s advisors was able to work around our relationship. It had not been encouraged, but our move into one unit created a residential opening for another deserving student and family to get help. It also helped that Ivan was elected student leader for our group. I had the power to delegate work among the community parents but he was the leader to face the university president. Ivan and I were grateful for the second chance with the college and we helped the others whenever we could besides being their voice in student government. Of course the fact that we were old enough to parent some of the other student parents also made us instant mentors. The school did not wish to endanger our success by kicking us out because we fell in love.

The success of our inaugural group would determine the continuation of this program in future years. It had the potential to draw the brightest minds from across the country whom just happened to become single parents. It gave our families a second chance, contributed to academia and would enable us to fill the ranks as professors as many looked for retirement. The school was right to assume that students or professors with children found it harder to move away. Ivan and I had planned to stay at the university thorough our Ph.D. level. Both of us had been asked to stay beyond our degrees early on as faculty in our majors during our masters program. By then we had moved away from the Mamta compound but served as community facilitators for incoming families in the program.

Ivan and I had diverse majors but shared so much in common. He was a gifted scientist and mathematician exploring the field of string theory and quantum physics. Me? I got lost with advanced algebra to get beyond it into physics or calculus. My major was much simpler. I was an interdisciplinary studies student to satisfy my interests in varied fields. I truly believed that combining disciplines was the way to solve the world’s most pressing problems. When I did begin teaching it was mostly for the Philosophy and Ethics courses in the same Liberal Arts College. Ivan and I had a common bond. We both felt obligated to make the world a better place as the result of our own hardships. Our children worked as volunteers besides us and learned the value of service to the community. Religion was also a surprise. It was unusual that such different backgrounds had drawn us towards the same Eastern religion. Hinduism attracted him through it’s science, and me through it’s principles and practice. If we were forced back into the religion of our parents, we would be very unhappy indeed. If we had simply been forced apart for any reason, we would also be very unhappy. I missed him at this moment in a strange vehicle and a strange land but imagined him comforting me at the same time.

He had been a widower with one son and I was divorced with three sons. My first husband had had three children with me in ten years only to admit he was just doing it to get citizenship. I became a divorcee basically because he had made this comment to an off-duty INS official at a work party. And since there were other suspicious things with his green card application according to their policies, they pushed the issue with full and complete authority. Ultimately, it was for the best. I didn’t see it then but it worked out well. I had not wanted to admit I was a domestic violence victim then. I didn’t want to break my marriage vows by leaving. I had not wanted to be a single mom. I assumed it was simply my burden to bear. I feel asleep thinking of how Ivan was the one person who had relieved my burdens without asking for much in return.

I woke when the vehicle stopped. We were parking at a small forested rest area off the highway. “Sorry, we need to take a break. Remember that the bathrooms, water fountains, picnic areas and everything else is still segregated here. We have a few hours of travel yet to go. We will bring back food and drink for you and the boys.”

“Sure, I will remember,” I answered. “I will be content to wait here.” I still had no idea what this vehicle in the alternate reality was called. The boys were still asleep. The seats of the van were quite comfortable. Mine faced backwards and theirs faced me. Suddenly Anil woke. “Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay,” I answered, “Let’s get your brothers and go together. I have no idea when we will stop again.”

We are all out of the van. We were dressed in jeans and 20th century shirts. There are obviously no mixed race children in this part of the country. Had they even seen mixed race people like me in Confederate America? Wait, our clothes, our jeans were also highly unusual, more so than our appearance. I tried not to stare at the women in long skirts and long sleeves blouses in the 90 degree heat. The boys did not say anything but I knew they were thinking their clothes were all wrong. They had no people skills but lots of feelings about visual things. We had attended a Renaissance Faire every year and they had loved looking at the clothing but never wanted to wear the period clothes. I hoped they could restrain themselves from pointing until we in the safety of the van with Sergei again.

We approached the building marked “Coloreds Only”. I cringe, knowing the sensory issues of my young ones in public bathrooms. I prayed under my breath that it not be as bad as I feared. The bathroom was dark and smelled unclean. No surprises there. There was no handicapped stall but there is no one else in the cabin- like space. My boys could go to the bathroom with the stall doors open. Anything to avoid being alone. There was a single bare light bulb on the ceiling but there was no switch on the wall. The only light entering the room was from the gaps around the wall where the wall met the ceiling. Immediately the sensory issues begin kick in. I listen to my kids loudly protest the dark, smell and rough wooden toilet seats. What else can I do but guide them and reassure them? I cannot risk taking them to the other bathroom here. We definitely would not fit in. We washed our hands in a simple basin but no soap, towels or toilet paper had been provided at all. Finally it is over and time for us to go.

Sergei and the driver were standing outside the bathroom as we walked out. A crowd had formed to watch us closely. I could imagine from the look on their faces the absolute disgust some of these Southerner’s felt at the idea of mixed races. I had endured it for two years living in the south. It had contributed to a very sad state of affairs for me and my family back then. It was why my education had come to a crashing dead end in 2004. It was also possible in our current context that they thought our family might try to escape our slave masters. My boys said nothing but could still sense the hostility in the air and looked at the ground. They were quiet immediately and walked silently to the van.

I sighed when we reached the van. Almost silently I again said a prayer of thanksgiving. We have been very lucky so far. I hoped our luck would be lasting. How reliable was this vehicle? Would we get a flat tire? We hadn’t stopped for fuel yet. What exactly did this vehicle run on? Suddenly my worry time was over. Sergei gave us another meal and plenty of drinks. I was suddenly very proud of my sons’ behavior. Children with disabilities are usually unable to handle sudden changes to their environment. The boys were remarkably more normal excluding the bathroom trip, as if a journey through space and time helped reduce their symptoms.

Sergei also explained that in this time line, I had died younger. There had been a house fire where Alexei and Ivan had survived the smoke inhalation but I had not because of asthma. In this time line, I had no children prior to the two I would have with Ivan here. This Ivan had been separated from his Asha for a longer time period. I was very confused, but Sergei seemed to feel there was a reason why I just happened to fall into this timeline. This Ivan was close to dying and I would comfort him in his last days. I worried that there would be a great difference between the two Ivans but Sergei assured me that he had met, spoken and worked with both men. Both loved me more than life itself despite the difference in dimensions. I was second only to their work in string theory but without my love and affection, there would be no Ivan with a Ph.D in physics. In this plane, Asha did not attend college but we had still met and married.

By nightfall, we had made it across the unmarked Mason Dixon line. It seemed that it might be a good thing that Ivan was ill or he would have come himself. I imagined the hostile crowds’ reaction to a heated reunion between us and became very relieved. All of us would have been killed for such a prohibited public display of affection between us. We approached a large iron gate on a dark, isolated rural road. The trees were quite thick in the dark so I could see nothing beyond them. I began to sing a sloka of thanksgiving. My kids woke me and joined me immediately.

The gate had part of what I remembered from Ivan’s family crest. It had hung on the wall in our foyer. He was descended from Russian royalty. Half of my family were common British related to the history of Harvard and Massachusetts, and the other half difficult to trace. Yes, the legacy of slavery meant some history was still untraceable unless done in person. We were going to Atlanta for the reunion to be able to more genealogy research on my side of the family. We were both in our 40’s now. Too late to add to our family, we had just wanted to retire soon. Four very busy boys in one household had been enough. It seemed the driveway went on forever as we curved around and around slowly. Finally we approached the house. It looked just like the last one we lived in on the campus. I wondered how it was possible for it to be similar. It was a solid brick house, no columns, a basic salt box shape with a small porch over the entry door. I wondered to myself if this home also had a large back porch as well. We drove into the attached garage and immediately the door opened. The air filled with voices speaking Russian and English as the van’s doors opened.

“Come, come.” They said. The light was still dimmed in the garage so I could not see who was there. I longed for the feel of Ivan’s touch. It had been an unbelievable day.

“Go upstairs. Ivan is ill. He is waiting for you, Asha. We will take care of the children.” Gentle caresses fell on my shoulders and back as I passed many faces that I did not take in. I ran up the stairs two at a time. This house was identical to ours, so I knew exactly where he would be. Finally here, I stopped to catch my breath as I opened the door. Ivan lay on the bed. I rushed to his side. His blond hair had turned all white. His hair had been cut to his shoulders but he had a long uncut white beard as well. He was sleeping but I sat on the bed and caressed his cheek. How had he aged 20 years in a day? How much time had I been away? What had actually happened to us? How could this be a different Ivan?

His hand moved to mine on his cheek and his eyes suddenly opened. “Asha.” he said sighing. I leaned over and kissed him. I could not speak as tears ran down my cheeks. He struggled to sit up and I held him in a tight embrace. We had no need to exchange words, no need for ceremony. We had been together long enough to form one mind and one soul in 2 bodies. Together we were Devi, the perfect union of Shiva and Parvati. I silently wept, grateful to be in his arms again. Our kisses and embraces seemed to reach my soul filling the spaces I had not known were empty before. I could never have imagined our unplanned separation. It was as Sergei had said. In this plane, Ivan and I still had the same souls as the life I remembered. I cared only that we had been reunited at this very moment. The answers to my questions did not make a difference. True love is like a string that cannot be unwound, not even with an accident of string theory.