Set ten years after the events of Terminator 2: Judgment Day, John Connor and his mother, Sarah Connor, are off-grid and separated in 2005. While Sarah is at Norfolk, Virginia, for matters too personal to tell her own son, John is surviving on his o...
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What is more embarrassing than walking in the same direction as your friend after bidding them farewell or showing up to work wearing two different shoes? Or a US Senator running late to his own meeting?
Around this time of year, I would have dreams about what happened 15 years ago, and they would always be the same: watching Reyna die. Once, it had gotten so bad that Mom almost took me to see a therapist. Every year, I would dream about her holding onto the grating, sobbing, and opening her mouth to speak. Every year, she would say something different, but this year, I accidentally left the television on. You can probably imagine the confusion I felt when she was talking about the latest dishwasher in my dream.
Now, I'm sprinting up the steps of Capitol Hill. I pass by signs welcoming and directing the Senate Youth Leadership group to the correct meeting room. I'm supposed to be giving a welcoming speech to them in about—I check my watch—one minute. If I sprint faster, I can—
The strap of my messenger bag snaps. All of my important documents, though kept in sealed manila envelopes, fall out. Books on cybersecurity land with a thud on the pristine white steps. I curse and begin to collect my things.
"Excuse me," a young lady's voice politely interrupts from behind me, "is this yours?"
I finish collecting my things and turn around. "Perhaps. Could I please see—"
And right there, patiently standing behind me, is Reyna, only a couple of years younger. The Senate Youth Leadership ID on her red blouse confirms it. Her hair is longer, tumbling past her shoulders in long waves. Her eyes are like the warm chocolate brown that I rarely saw during our time together in 2005.
"Is this yours?" She repeats. In her hands is the Polaroid picture of us holding hands from that Venezuelan cafe.
I take the photo from her gently enough not to rip it, but quick enough not to see her own face. "Yes, thank you."
"Who is she?" She asks.
I sigh, thinking of how to word my answer. "She was a really good friend of mine."
"What happened to her?"
"She... she... she passed on to become someone better." I clear my throat. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with the Senate Youth Leadership group?"
"Shouldn't you be giving a speech to us now?" Reyna asks before covering her mouth with horror at the realization of her own rudeness. "I-I'm so sorry, Senator Connor. I accidentally left my stuff on the bus and—"
I laugh. One thing that hasn't changed about Reyna: her keenness. "It's alright. Come on, we can't have two people late to their own meeting."
But we were already late, and not with our meeting with the Senate Youth Leadership group.
