The Healing

Jemàl Nath

“How’d you go?”

“Great.”

“Cop any grief?”

“Nah. I had so much to off-load they wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Good.”

“Snaffled a laptop that should have a four meg DDR3 module, and, this.” He placed an old radio on the table.

“It’s kind of cool,” she said.

“Isn’t it? It’s a Healing Golden Voice!”

“Probably 60s or 70s. Teak case I think.” He plugged in the unusually long cord and switched it on. A low hum emanated from the speaker, but in front of that hum, prominently, the music played:

It’s good to be alive To be alive To be alive

“Wow. Sounds like we’re back in the 70s,’ she said, gesticulating disco moves. “Shall we stay there?”

“I don’t think so, Darling. Music aside, the 70s were awful.”

“We weren’t even born then.”

“Racism, nepotism, homophobia, gross social inequality – shocking time for women,” he said.

“Oh, nothing at all like the present then.” “Nope.”

“I suppose I should be more grateful that I live in a time where the smartest guy I know rifles through e-waste for a dollar, and I spend all day online applying for jobs that I’m not even sure exist, unless I get an autoreply from a bot.”

He was about to respond to her sarcasm when something outside drew his attention. “Check out the 70s soiree over at Rosa’s.”

She twitched the curtains. “Very convincing outfits. Rosa looks years...” She glanced over her shoulder at the radio.

“I’m going outside,” he said. “Umm, leave the Healing on.”

She heard him walk out the door, and come straight back in. “That was quick.”

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “I had no way of contacting you, and I just got caught up in it—”

“You were in and out in a second.”

“Hey?”

“A second ... not even.”

He composed himself, and stared hard at the radio. “I was gone for at least an hour.”

She shook her head.

“I was. There’s no way you’ll believe me so you’ll just have to go.”

“Outside?”

“Hang on.” He disappeared up the hall and sang out, “Do we still have that old jar of one, two, and five cent pieces we found behind the oven when we moved in?”

“It’ll be in the box labelled—”

“Got it!” He rushed back into the kitchen. “Put these in your pocket. Now walk out the door.”

Too tired to argue, she walked out the door, came straight back in, and sat down at the table.

“What happened?”

“I was just in 1979.”

“And?”

“It’s the same, but different. Where did all the huge trees go over the last forty years?”

“Strange, I know. What else?”

“I got offered a job!”

“Seriously?”

“A lady down the street was watering her garden. She saw me pass by and bailed me up. We had a chat about everything. Apparently, her husband teaches at Campbelltown High, and he desperately needs a laboratory assistant. She’s been running the ads for the school and so far, no takers. She told me to pop by the school tomorrow after three and help him set up for the next morning.”

“This is crazy. You walked out the door and came back in, immediately.”

“That’s what you did too.”

“I’m so stoked with adrenaline I have to go again,” he said.

She handed him the change.

“Thanks. Don’t wait up.”

“Ha!” She heard him go out the door and walk right back in.

“Behold.”

“A newspaper. Gone long?” she asked.

“Long enough for me to catch a bus into town, and get this.”

“Star Wars, Luke Skywalker.”

“There’s more. I too was offered a job by a nice lady.”

“Shut up.”

“She and her husband run a shop called ‘Toyworld’ in Rundle Mall. He’s not been well, so she needs some help. She was impressed by my knowledge of all the amazing vintage toys she had – obviously I didn’t use the word ‘vintage’– and she offered me a job on the spot.”

“Hon, I can’t believe this. Well done.”

“I didn’t do anything. You know this Kenner action figure’s worth a fortune now.”

“Define ‘now’?”

He recoiled. “We haven’t actually worked out what’s going on here have we?”

She shook her head, and picked up the newspaper.

“I’m gonna try something.” He turned off the Healing, and peeked out the window. “Jeeesus, I knew it.”

She held up the newspaper. “It’s still here.”

“Consider it a relic from 1979, because we’re back. Look.”

She pressed her face against the window. “Great.”

“Try not to be too happy about not being stuck in the past.”

“I won’t.” She grabbed the real estate section of the newspaper.

“Well, before I question the weirdness of it all, I should put young Luke here up online. We need the—”

“Hon, sorry ... did the toyshop lady say how much she’d pay you?”

He took a moment. “I remember thinking it wasn’t as low as I thought it would be.”

“Me too. That was my response exactly. Now see this. This is the solid brick flat around the corner, you know, the one that sold last year, with the separate loo.”

She handed him the page. “In 1979 it’s two years old, and up for sale.”

“I see it. Holy shhh, that’s not the price?”

“That’s the price.”

“It’s gotta be a typo.”

She shook her head. “We wouldn’t have to rent anymore,” she said, trying to sound calm.

He lowered the newspaper. “What are you suggesting?”

“We’ve just been handed more opportunity in one day than we’ve ever had, ever.”

“Wait, wait, wait a minute. We have to think this through.”

“Don’t panic. I’m just saying, this could resolve a lot of problems for us.”

He paused, took a deep breath, raised the newspaper, and read the real estate blurb for the flat. “Darling?”

“Yeh, Hon?”

“Could you please turn on the Healing?”