Latterday

Something must be done with February and I'll tell you why. What I'm going to tell you may seem just a little out of the ordinary. Okay, a lot out of the ordinary. But I swear to you, it happened. I am not crazy, nor do I do partake in any sort of drug or imbibe in alcohol, which I'm not particularly fond of. I don't know how it happened, but I assure you, it did.

I was certain of the day of the week because I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I had to renew my license on my birthday, which just happens to fall on a leap year. Leap year is odd, isn't it? I mean, who are we to take a day of the month and just kind of forget about it. Somewhere between the fabric of time and space, something has to give.

Now, everyone who knows the Dept. Of Motor Vehicles, understands that it can be unpleasant, and even frustrating visit at times. But never could I call any of my visits bizarre. Until yesterday. The minute I walked in, I knew that something was off. Something in the air was different. Mainly, the people. There was a wrongness about them. I can't explain except they seemed to be nothing other than props in a movie set.

Don't get me wrong, they were talking and doing all the things living, breathing humans did, but it was almost as though they were reading from a script. Not only that, but they looked at me as if I had a port-wine stain covering my face. You know how you try not to look, but you find your eyes straying to it because it's so out of place? It was like I was the stain.

The longer I waited in line, the more uncomfortable I became. Sidelong glances between the DMV employees increasing by the moment, I started wondering if I'd left the barn door open and quickly glanced down. I was okay in that department. Maybe a piece of watercress that I had for lunch stuck in between my teeth. Or worse yet, and I prayed it wasn't that, something unmentionable hung out of my nose. I surreptitiously checked that department too. All clear. So what was it then?

It was my turn at the window, and I was shocked when the woman behind the glass spoke to me.

"Sir, your not supposed to be here." She said, glancing at her colleagues. "It's not your day."

"But, it's time to renew my license, ma'am, it says so right here," I said, showing her my license.

"You don't understand, sir, this isn't Wednesday," she said as if I were a moron.

I laughed, not understanding. "Don't be silly, of course it is."

"No, my dear, it's not. Today is Latterday." she argued, quite seriously.

I laughed out loud then, looking around for hidden cameras. Maybe I was on one of those shows where they play pranks.

"Latterday? Oh, come on, I just want to renew my license. Can we do that now, please?" I asked her, feeling increasingly annoyed at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Sir, your not supposed to be here." she insisted. "Latterday is not for your kind."

"This has gone far enough, Miss," I said hotly. "Now, I insist that you call your manager and we'll get this straightened up right away."

She looked disgruntled for a moment and left the front of the office in a huff, returning seconds later with a tall, blonde-haired woman of indeterminable age. The tall woman went to the doorway, crooking her finger in a 'come with me' motion. What the hell was going on here? I followed her to an empty room, and she bade me sit. I did so, but nothing was making much sense at this point.

"Sir," she said, looking down at my licence. "Mr. McNally, if I may. There's been a terrible mistake. I'm not quite sure how to explain this, Mr. McNally, but somehow, and trust me this has only happened one other time in Leap year history, you've managed to slip through. You don't belong here, quite literally."

"I don't understand what you're saying! Any of it!" I loudly.

"Now please, let's keep this civil, shall we? Let me explain," she told me, patting my hand, which I promptly pulled away. "You see, somehow, you've found us. You've landed on Latterday."

"Ok, I'll bite. What is Latterday?" I asked between clenched teeth.

"Latterday is the day in between. The missing day." she told me. "See, you may have taken it away, but in all reality, it still exists!"

It took me a minute to digest what she was saying, but a part of me knew that she was telling the truth. That's what scared me the most, I think.

"Only one other leap year child has ever slipped through, Mr. McNally." she informed me.

A warning bell went off then. "Really? How did they get back to real-time?" I asked, feeling a chill run up my spine.

Avoiding my eyes, she continued. "See, time is a funny thing. It doesn't like to be interrupted or changed in any manner. Not by us, anyway. The Mayans knew this, and that's why their calendar is the most precise calendar in the world. You cannot return, Mr. McNally. Ever."

I stood then, outraged. "The hell you say!" Shoving the table back, trapping her, I bolted. I heard her yell for the guards and I ran as fast as I possibly could to the exit. Bursting through the double doors, I raced for my car at the other end of the lot. Leaping into my car, I drove as fast as I could for home, but the faster I went, the longer the street seemed to be. It seemed to stretch out before me endlessly. A voice whispered in my head to drive backward and looking through my rearview mirror, and I obeyed, whipping the car around and stomping on the gas pedal. As the speedometer reached sixty, I finally made progress and pulled into my driveway and into my garage.

Bursting through the door, I asked my wife what day it was.

"It's Wednesday, silly." she laughed, "your birthday."

I did it. I was home.

But I think they're following me. As I write this, I swear I saw someone from the DMV office drive by this morning.

It's been a year now, and my biggest fear is my next renewal. It will be a leap year again. I think my biggest course of action would be

not to renew at all. Even if I must surrender my license. Something must be done with February.