Play@YSDC

Terry started to think for a moment, but was lost in the moment. But, perhaps the whole situation was a dream. Anything could happen in your dreams, right?

Terry couldn't tell whether he was dreaming or not. Everything certainly seemed real to him. He could smell and taste the food just as if it were real. The sights and sounds were pretty convincing too, but what got him most were all of the little details, like in the newspaper articles he had glanced through. Some of the things in there seemed unknown to him, but he had been able to recall a couple of those names, so he guessed it was possible that his subconscious had pulled them from the recesses of his subconscious and used them to build a dream. Or he could really be seven years in the future, with no memory of the intervening time. He had no way to know for certain.

"Jenkins, did I ever talk about a time before right now? If I did, what did I talk about?" Terry asked Jenkins, trying to understand what exactly happened to him.

"A time before right now?" said Jenkins scratching his head. "You mean, back when you were poor and barely able to make ends meet? You did talk about it, but not much. Like I said, you came into a sudden windfall. If I recall, it happened about seven years ago. You never told me the details, though."

"Well, if I didn't tell you anything from a time before, I suppose one day I'll tell you. Don't be afraid to pester me about it. In fact, I want you to ask me. Sometime in the near future, about the time before I met you. Can you do that?" Terry asked, looking Jenkins squarely in the eyes.

Terry could not for the life of him remember those funny-looking Russian letters. If he saw them written down somewhere, maybe he'd recognize them.

"Of course, sir," said Jenkins, though he wore a confused expression.

The cook returned to the bedroom, carrying a tray with a silver pot of steaming tea, a china teacup on a matching saucer, a small bowl containing lumps of sugar, and a plate of buttered scones. "Here you go, Mr. Jenkins." She set the tray down on the bed. The tea smelled nice and invigorating, and Terry felt slightly more awake just from the odor tickling his nostrils.

"Thank you, Cook." Jenkins poured himself a cup of tea, then took two lumps of sugar and dropped them in. He picked up a silver spoon from the tray and began to stir.

"Could I have some of that Tea as well?" Terry asked, wondering exactly what the tea could have been. "Is it Earl Grey? Or something else?"

"Oh, but of course, sir," said Jenkins. "It is Earl Grey, as it happens." He poured another cup for Terry, then reached for the sugar bowl. "One lump or two, sir?"

"I'll have one, thank you." said Terry, reaching for the cup as Jenkins let the sugar fall in. Taking it, he attempted a sip, but spilled it as his lips touched the outer rim of the cup.

The tea sloshed out of the cup, spilling on Terry's silk pajamas and his bedsheets. The liquid was hot, and he could feel it burning through his clothes, but it wasn't enough to actually scald him.

"Oh, dear!" said Jenkins, placing his own cup carefully down on the tray before rising. "If sir will allow me, I'll clean you off, pick out some clothes for you, and have your pajamas and sheets taken to the laundry room."

"No, No. It's not that big of a deal." Terry breathed easily, setting his cup down after picking it up. "I'll do it later. Pour me another, and sit back down." Terry asked, though it started to sound a little bit like a command.

"Jenkins, do you know what I do each day? I mean, do I have a routine or anything?" Terry asked curiously.

"Do your own laundry, sir?" said Jenkins, raising an eyebrow. He sat down and poured Terry another cup of tea. "Nonsense! That's why you have servants. As for your routine, you often sleep late as you've done today. When you awaken, you take breakfast - or brunch, read the paper, then get dressed and do whatever takes your fancy. You have enough money that you don't need to work, though you do like to keep an eye on your investments. Sometimes you watch TV, play golf, or go into Philadelphia. I believe you have plans to attend the bicentennial celebration there this weekend. It's the 200th anniversary of your country's independence from mine on Sunday. Sometimes you host parties in your home in the evenings, like last night."

"Right...Well...Perhaps it might be best for me to take a trip into Philadelphia. But, are you going to surprise me by saying I have a driver too? I really wouldn't be surprised, it's come to be quite a morning. I think I'd like to check my investments. Is there a bank I usually go to, or something of that nature?" Terry asked, sipping on his new cup of tea.

The tea tasted good and helped to wake Terry up further, and he now felt ready to face the day in whatever strange place he found himself.

"Why yes, you do have a chauffeur," said Jenkins. "You usually go to your broker in Philadelphia, a Mr. Rosen. He handles all of your accounts. I'll have Griffith get your car ready while you get dressed. Is there anything else you need before I go, sir?"

"Do I take anything with me when I go? Wallet, something like that? By the by, do I still have my old bicycle?" he asked, curious indeed. Sitting up, he forced the sheets off of him.

"And if I can get a fresh pair of clothes?" he asked kindly.

"I shall get them immediately, sir," said Jenkins. He went over to the dresser and picked out a stylish, lightweight gray suit, folding the pants carefully over his arm. "I will gather your wallet, keys, and other personal possessions that you normally carry with you. As for your bicycle, yes, you did keep it. For sentimental reasons, you said. You mentioned not wanting to be like Citizen Kane, I believe. You keep it down in the garage." The butler laid out the clothes and undergarments for Terry. "Would you like some privacy, sir?"