Chapter 29: Back to the Future?

Thursday, November 2, 1961 1:30pm

Something over 18,000 students registered at UBC for the 1961-62 year. Finding one single individual might turn out to be an impossible task. However, Jesse’s memory recalled that by 2010, there were over 50,000 students at the expanded campus, so the task would be far less complex than if he were still in twenty-first century time. He pondered how he would go about looking for her.

The only thing that came to mind was to ask the administration office if there was a Kirsten Gustafson registered, and if so, hope that they could give him more information about her. He wondered just how much security there was when it came to information about students. He was sure that he’d never get any information in 2012. Security of records was stepped up ten-fold over earlier days.

“Good afternoon,” Jesse began politely as he addressed the middle-aged woman behind the desk. “I’m Jesse Peterson, and I’m a registered student here,” he said, showing his student card. “I’m trying to find out if a Miss Kirsten Gustafson is registered at UBC. Can you help me?”

The woman seemed to examine him while she decided whether to assist him. He was polite, looked quite respectable, and didn’t ask for anything more than acknowledgement of a person’s presence on campus.

“I really shouldn’t do this, but give me a moment and I’ll see what I can find,” she said. “Her name was... ?”

“Kirsten Gustafson,” Jesse repeated, spelling it out for her.

She nodded and headed back to a large series of wall-mounted wooden file trays. It didn’t take her long and Jesse saw her extract a single file card from the drawer. She examined the card and then returned to the counter.

“Miss Gustafson is a student in second year Arts. She does not live on campus, so I assume she commutes from her home. That’s really all the information I should release,” she said.

“Thank you, Ma’am. That’s very helpful and I appreciate your doing this for me.”

For the first time, the woman smiled and nodded, “You’re welcome.”

Well, that was a good start. Now to find a phone book. If it was “his” Kirsten, then the phone should be listed under Tomas Gustafson, her father’s name. A quick trip to the library and the big directory quickly confirmed only one T. Gustafson was listed. The address was in the nearby Kitsilano district, so it would be easy to drive by there that afternoon and see just what the home looked like.

Knowing he might want a car that afternoon, Jesse had borrowed his mother’s Falcon and informed his regular car pool ride that he wouldn’t be with them on Thursday. He now had the freedom to check out the residence and then plan how he might encounter Kirsten in the flesh. That was going to be a trickier problem, he knew. What would he say to her? How would he find a way to get close to her once more? He despaired that it might be impossible. Would she still have the same fears and history with males that the first Kirsten had?

He drove slowly past the address he had taken from the directory. It was an older home, but in immaculate condition he noticed. No surprise, he thought. The Gustafsons were a very disciplined and organized family. He wondered in passing what Tomas and Anika did during the day. Did they both work? Did they own a business? How could he find out? It might be an easier way to contact Kirsten rather than searching the campus for her.

Alongside the house, Jesse spotted a late model Volvo 122 in a pale blue colour. Would that be Tomas’s car, or Anika’s? He remembered they had two cars in his other life. Could he wait around to see if Kirsten showed up later that afternoon? What were the alternatives? He’d promised his mother he would be home before three pm, since she needed to do some shopping. Looking at his wristwatch, he sighed in frustration. He needed an alternative plan.

Jesse had plenty of time to decide how he might encounter Kirsten, either on campus or elsewhere. There was no women’s hockey team yet at UBC, and there was no Vancouver NHL team either. Kirsten’s family would be only an approximate duplicate if everything followed his expectations. They would all have different roles. Nonetheless, Jesse was determined to find a way to contact Kirsten. He tried to imagine what the possibilities might be.

There were some basic courses in the Arts Department that Jesse could monitor, but since Kirsten was second year, it was even less likely that he’d encounter her. It seemed the most probable opportunity would be at her home. But that meant either staking out the house, or more boldly, just knocking on the door to see if she was home. The latter was almost immediately shelved unless he could think of a plausible reason to see her.

In the back of Jesse’s mind was the uneasy feeling he was missing something from these “duplicates” in this time line. The circumstances weren’t identical to the twenty-first century individuals in the case of Kirsten, but they were substantially the same in the case of Candice. Why? Moreover, who else might appear in this time that had previously been in the future? There were no noticeable changes in his family and friends that he could detect. So ... why were these two women from the future appearing in the “here-and-now?” Too may questions without answers. He was getting that feeling of discomfort he felt after his jump to 2011. What was real ... and what was imaginary?

Monday, December 11, 1961 5pm

“Happy Birthday, Jesse!” his mother beamed, handing him a large gift-wrapped package.

“Thanks, Mom. Yeah ... nineteen today. One more year and I’ll no longer be a teenager.

Jesse’s tone lacked the enthusiasm she expected from him. In fact, over the past month or so he’d been very quiet. He was still dating Candice, so it wasn’t a problem with her, she thought.

“Jesse, are you feeling okay?” she asked a few minutes later.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for the ski jacket. I’m hoping they’ll open Grouse Mountain this weekend.”

“Are you going with Candice if it is open?” his mother persisted.

“No, she won’t have her skis until she brings them down after Christmas. Otherwise, yes, she likes to ski. Her family has a place at Kimberly.”

“What about your friends ... Jack and Bob?”

“Jack is working weekends since he’s low man on the totem pole, and Bob doesn’t ski. I’ll go on my own.”

His mother looked at him carefully, but saw no signs of unhappiness ... just that he was so quiet. She shook her head in frustration. She was sure something was bothering him, but he wasn’t willing to talk about it.

The traditional birthday cake was on the table that evening after his mother had prepared his favourite meal: roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. His father was all smiles as they enjoyed the birthday cake.

“I have one other thing for you, Jesse,” he said, handing him a small gift-wrapped box.

Jesse wasn’t expecting anything else, but accepted the box with thanks. He took his time opening the package, finding what looked like a little two-piece box, about half the size of a cigarette package. He lifted the lid and saw the contents lying on some tissue paper. It was a distinctive key, unlike any others. The VW symbol at its base caused his eyes to open wide in surprise.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at his father. He looked at his father and mother and saw two wide smiles.

“We thought it was time you had your own transportation. It’s not new, Jesse, but the dealer assured me it was in perfect condition. We know you don’t have a lot of money, so we thought this would be something special for you.”

“I can’t believe it. You bought me a car?” Jesse exclaimed, still trying to come to terms with the gift.

“The insurance, gas and repairs will be your responsibility,” his father noted, “but I think you can handle that. The ‘Beetle’ is very inexpensive to run and very durable. Happy Birthday, Jesse.”

Jesse was still in mild shock. He never in his wildest imagination expected to be given a car. He rose and went to hug his mother, then his father.

“I don’t know what to say. This is amazing. I had no idea. Thank you so much. Where is it?” he finally asked.

“It’s sitting in the Smith’s driveway, waiting for you. Here’s the other key and you’ll find the registration and insurance in the glove box. I’ve insured it for six months in your name, after that, it’s up to you.”

“I don’t know how to thank you for this. It’s incredible. Is it okay if I go see it now?”

His father laughed. “Of course. Since you leave a little before me in the morning, you can park it in the driveway. But first, you should take it for a test drive. Get used to it ... how it steers and handles.”

Jesse headed for the closet and grabbed his jacket and wallet. He was out the door, cutting across the lawn to the Smith’s. The car sat in the middle of the driveway, shiny in its metallic grey-blue paint. He walked around it, looking at it from all sides. It was one of the later model VW’s with the large back window and bigger tail lights. He unlocked the door, and looking up, saw his parents watching him from the living room window. He waved before getting into the car.

He didn’t need to adjust the seat since he and his father were only an inch or so different in height. He sat for a few moments, just staring at the dashboard and looking about the cabin. He reached for the seatbelts before realizing there were none. Finally, he put the key in the ignition, depressed the clutch, and started the little air-cooled motor. It sprang to life instantly. He was thrilled with the idea of having his own car. He’d been saving toward one, but it was still a long way in the future and would likely not be as new or as nice as this.

The test drive took a half hour. He wanted to know everything he could about his new possession. He knew its top speed was about seventy, so it was no hot rod. But it gave him freedom. No need to borrow his mother or father’s car. He couldn’t imagine a better birthday than this. As he parked in his driveway, he noticed the mileage: 23,433. Not that much. The registration said it was a 1958 model. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling at his good fortune.

Tuesday, December 12, 1961 12pm

“What are you grinning about?” Candice asked him as she sat down opposite him in the cafeteria.

“Yesterday was my birthday. I got a special present,” he stated, still smiling.

“A special present? What was it?”

“A car. I now own a 1958 Volkswagen Beetle. It’s all mine, a gift from my parents.”

“Oh wow, that’s great, Jesse. I know how much you wanted your own car. Problem solved, huh?” Candice smiled.

“Problem solved indeed,” he said.

“I guess that makes my little token pretty insignificant,” she said with a fake scowl.

“Candice, I get a nice gift from you quite often. I have no complaints. Besides, you knew I wanted some new ski gloves, so they were a very nice gift. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you appreciate those ‘nice gifts, ‘ Jesse Peterson. I’d hate to think you didn’t appreciate them,” she said, again with a fake look of irritation.

“You know I do ... and ... I tell you so, regularly,” he said with a genuine smile.

“Yeah ... you do, don’t you. I’ll say this for you, Jesse. You have the makings of a very nice gentleman. Some lucky woman is going to latch onto you and never let go,” she smiled, this time sincerely.

“Whatever do you mean, Candice? Are you planning to break up with me?” he asked, faking concern.

“Of course not,” she snapped, “but we have a lot of years ahead of us and we have different plans. What we have is temporary. I’m not kidding myself that you’re my forever boyfriend. I don’t think you’re thinking that way either.”

Jesse sighed. “You’re right, of course. We are on different paths in the future. But that’s the future. Right now, I’m happy the way things are. Aren’t you?”

She smiled. “Of course I am. There’s no rush for either of us, is there?”

“Nope,” Jesse grinned. “No rush at all.”