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“This has to be a mistake,” Lucie says, and now I may start crying for an entirely different reason.
I don’t have the energy to make nice with her, not again, even though I know now that it can be done, so I let her stomp around and complain about my pasta bowls before pretending to go back to sleep. The devastation shouldn’t feel as heavy as it does right now, but it’s a ten-ton anchor, keeping me chained to this room. It’s a relief when a text shows up from Miles an hour later, when I’m still moping in bed.
Yesterday was… a lot. I need a little space, if that’s okay? Not sure I’m in a zero fucks kind of mood.
Of course it’s okay, I write back, pushing away a flash of concern. Take all the time you need.
I want to ask him about whether the site of PROPERTY OF BAR is sore and whether he’s feeling any of what I’m feeling. If he woke up at the same time, and if he has any theories. But that can wait.
More than that—something changed between us yesterday. Yes, we held hands in a rented 2013 Toyota Prius, a moment my brain helpfully replayed for me over and over before I fell asleep last night. But he also let me in, allowed me to see this piece of his private life, a history he hasn’t shared with many other people. And I might actually be starting to understand him. We’ve both been lonely, trapping ourselves in these prisons of our own making. I never would have guessed we had something like this in common, but I think the two of us have been yearning for human connection more than either of us would readily admit. For the first time, it really does feel like we’re partners.
In a strange way, though… well, I don’t miss him, because that doesn’t make sense. We’ve been nearly inseparable for the past two weeks. It’s probably just that I miss having someone to spar with. Someone who indulges that combative side of my personality, the side I have always feared is my entire personality.
Mom: How do I love thee? Joss and I are wishing you SO MUCH LUCK today!
The text doesn’t frustrate me the way it has for the past few days. Instead, it invigorates me. This is longer than we’ve ever gone without seeing each other—well, longer than I’ve ever gone, since she is ostensibly living her timeline the way she’s meant to.
I throw back a couple of Tylenol for the pain in my arm and order an Uber. By the time I get to Ink & Paper, the pain has faded to the point where I can almost forget it didn’t happen.
And there she is in jeans and her Seattle skyline graphic tee, her hug rose-scented.
“Don’t tell me you’re already homesick,” my mom says, and the déjà vu makes my head spin.
“Deeply. The doctors say I don’t have long.”
“Barrett. My darling of darlings. Treasure of treasures. It’s only been a few days. Not even you can be this attached to your dear old mom.”
“Nineteen days,” I say.
She rummages behind the counter, not paying attention. “What? Anyway, now that you’re here… look what showed up yesterday.” She holds up that package of greeting cards, the ones from the new Seattle letterpress.
“Nineteen days, Mom,” I repeat, my voice level.
“Is this a reference to something?” Her mouth pulls into a frown, a crease appearing between her brows as she tries to think. “You’re going to have to give me a hint.”
“It’s not a reference to anything. I haven’t seen you in nineteen days.” On trembling legs, I take a seat behind the counter. Maybe I’m testing another theory, or maybe I’m eager for some non-Miles camaraderie, since my heart and brain are thoroughly mixed up by his presence. Whatever it is, I’m going to try telling her the truth again. “What if I told you that I’ve been stuck in a time loop. And I’ve repeated this day twenty-two times.”
My mom stares, and then she cracks a smile. “Is this for your psych class? Some experiment?”
“I’m being serious. This is real.”
“Well, then. If you really are a time traveler, should we go buy a lottery ticket?”
“We could, but it won’t matter tomorrow.” I nod toward the door. “Close the shop.”
She sputters out a laugh. “What?”
“What have you always wanted to do but never had the time for? Something we could realistically do today. Quick, the first thing that comes to mind.”
“This is absurd, Barrett, I—”
“Mom. Please. Just tell me.”
Her eyes are squinted, her mouth scrunched to one side. Her thinking face. I can tell she’s just playing along, that she doesn’t entirely believe me, and to be fair, neither would I. She’s probably assuming this is another one of our games.
“This might sound silly, but I’ve always wanted to go up the Space Needle. Even though it’s touristy, it feels like something we should do, right?”
Maybe it doesn’t matter that she doesn’t believe me, or that she’s bad at pretending. Maybe it just matters that she’s here.
