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I can’t hold the annoyance in his tone against him. I’m sure I’d be doing the same thing—and out there in another universe, maybe I am.
“I promise, I’ll explain everything. Can you meet me in the physics library later? Around one?”
“I’m free now.”
“I have to do something first.” I try to stay positive. He has every reason to be wary of me.
Unless—
Unless he never remembers.
And what if he was right, that we can’t get back what we had in the loop?
I can’t dwell on that.
“Okay,” he says, but his gaze doesn’t leave my face. Something flickers across his eyes, a spark of recognition or a flash of frustration—hard to say.
Whatever it is, it vanishes in an instant.
“You missed your interview on Wednesday,” Annabel says when I get to the Washingtonian newsroom. The glass window, of course, bears no sign of my ill-advised but unexpectedly triumphant B&E.
“I know. I’m so sorry. I had something come up.” I pass her my fresh-from-the-printer story. “I realize it’s a little unusual to show up with an article already written, but I really thought this would make a good piece for the paper.”
Annabel slides on her tortoiseshell glasses. “?‘The Forgotten Professor,’?” she reads. “I’ll get to this after…” But then her eyes keep flicking over the words, and she settles back in her chair. “Actually, I can read it now, if you don’t mind.”
“Please,” I say, biting back a smile. “Go ahead.”
I contacted Dr. Devereux yesterday afternoon and we talked for hours. She remembered the video call from the day before, and after I explained what had happened with Miles, I asked if she had any theories.
“Give him time,” she said as her cats pounced on a treat in the background. “The brain is just as complicated as the universe. Perhaps even more so. Your systems have been through quite a lot.”
And then when I asked if she might want to tell her story, she said yes.
I stayed up nearly the whole night writing, but today the fatigue is welcome. It feels earned. This will be my last attempt, I’ve decided. If it doesn’t work, then I’ll lick my emotional wounds and wait until next year.
“This is fascinating,” Annabel says when she finishes, placing the sheets of paper on one edge of her desk. “I think my aunt took this class. Even though she graduated with a degree in something else, she said it was the best class she took at UW. And the way you leave the reader wondering whether time travel is really possible… I got chills. It’s a lovely profile.”
“Thank you. That’s my favorite thing to write—profiles.”
“Maybe you could even do a whole series.” She leans back in her chair. “People on campus that we don’t usually get to hear about.”
“I’d love that,” I say, hoping I don’t sound overeager when this is exactly the kind of journalism I’ve been dying to do.
And the fact that I was able to write about Dr. Devereux made it all the more perfect—the person who wanted to be forgotten, giving me a chance to reintroduce her.
It’s not unlike what I wanted college to be for myself, I realize. A chance to reset. Redo.
And I have four more years to keep doing it.
“I’m getting ahead of myself,” Annabel says. “I’ll have to see if we have the space first. But I admire this kind of grit. I want people on staff who want to be here. There are always a handful of freshmen who end up turning out to be complete flakes.” She pauses for a moment, tenting her fingers together. “Tell you what. I still don’t love that you ghosted your interview, but I have a story about the student-government budget that needs to be written. It was my old beat, so I might be a harsh judge. You nail it, and the job is yours.”
“Thank you. I swear I’ll do my best.” For a moment, the excitement overpowers my fear about Miles. I make to take the article from her, but she hangs on to it with her thumb and forefinger.
“And—we might want to print this too. If that’s all right with you.”
I can’t hide my grin. “Absolutely.”
“I haven’t been in here yet.” Miles gazes around the physics library in all its dusty-shelved, dimly lit glory. Maybe this is the strangest thing so far: how uncomfortable Miles looks in the library that’s been a second home to him over his past few months.
