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“No, I mean, I can believe that she—she likes me,” August says in a tone that sounds like she cannot believe it at all. “But she’s been on that train so long. I’ve found Craigslist posts and personal ads—people have been falling in love with her for years. She really never had a crush on anyone before now? Why was meeting me the first time she locked into a moment in time?”
Myla swallows an enormous bite of beef. It’s not that Niko enforces a vegetarian household, it’s just that Myla enjoys meat more when Niko’s not there to look distantly sad about the environment.
“Maybe you’re meant to be. Love at first sight. It happened to me.”
“I don’t accept that as a hypothesis.”
“That’s because you’re a Virgo.”
“I thought you said virginity was a construct.”
“A Virgo, you fucking Virgo nightmare. All this, and you still don’t believe in things. Typical Virgo bullshit.” Myla puts her burger down. “But maybe there was, like, an extra spark when you met, that pulled the trigger. What do you remember about it?”
God, what does she remember? Besides the smile and kind eyes and general aura of punk rock guardian angel?
She tries to think past that—to the skinned knee, the way she had tugged the sleeves of her jacket over her hands to hide the scrapes, trying not to cry.
“I had spilled coffee all over my tits,” August says.
“Very sexy,” Myla notes, nodding. “I get what she sees in you.”
“And she gave me her scarf to cover it up.”
“Dream girl status.”
“I do remember there was, like, a static shock, when I reached for the scarf and our hands brushed, but I was wearing wool and the scarf was wool and I just never thought anything of it. Do you think that was it?”
Myla considers. “Maybe. Or maybe that was a side effect. Energy going nuts. Anything else?”
“I had just come from work, and she told me I smelled like pancakes.”
“Oh. Hm.” She uncrosses her legs, leaning forward across the counter. “She used to work here, right?”
“Right.”
“And this place does have a… very particular smell, right?”
“Right…” August says. “Oh. Oh! So you think it was a sense memory? Like she recognized Billy’s?”
“Smell is the strongest memory trigger. Could have done it. Maybe it was the first time she encountered something she really recognized on the train.”
“Seriously?” August lifts the collar of her T-shirt to her nose. “Wow, I’m never gonna bitch about smelling like pancakes again.”
“You know,” Myla says, “if we can figure out what happened, exactly how her energy got tied into the energy of the line, and we can re-create the event…”
August drops her shirt collar. “We could undo it? That’s how we get her out?”
“Yeah,” Myla says. “Yeah, I think it could work.”
“And—and she snaps back to the ’70s for good?”
Myla thinks. “Probably. But there’s a chance… I mean, there aren’t really any rules in this. So who knows? Maybe there’s a chance she could lock into right here, right now.”
August stares at her. “Like… permanently?”
“Yeah,” Myla says.
August allows herself five seconds to picture it: Jane’s jeans tangled up in August’s laundry, late nights and split bills, kisses on the sidewalk, oversweet coffee in bed.
