Page 51 of Something Like Fate

At one point, Riley asks Caleb about all of his travels. Riley gets excited when he mentions Asia. Apparently, she spent a summer teaching English in Korea. This sparks a ten-minute convo about street foodwhile Teller drinks glass after glass of water, and I just sit there picking at my pasta.

“So you two.” Riley gestures toward Teller and me. “How long have you known each other?”

Teller’s eyes meet mine, like he’s expecting me to respond first. But I don’t. “Um ... since the summer going into tenth grade. We met working at a movie theater. She was only wearing one flip-flop,” he explains, midsip.

“Why only one flip-flop?” Caleb asks. He leans back in the booth, legs outstretched.

“Long story,” Teller and I say simultaneously. We both look at each other, only to realize Riley and Caleb are still waiting to hear more.

“Anyway,” I say before clearing my throat. “We went to the same high school and I haven’t stopped bugging him since, even though he decided to be a jerk and move away for school.”

“What are you in school for again?” Caleb asks him.

“Data science.”

Caleb leans in to give him a high five, which Teller accepts, albeit confused. “Props. I could never work a nine-to-five office job. I think I’d jump off a cliff. No offense. We need people like you keeping the rest of the world afloat.” I know Caleb is trying to be complimentary, but I’m not sure it’s coming across given the tightness in Teller’s lips.

I can’t actually tell whether Teller likes Caleb or not. Teller holds his cards close to his chest. Even if he dislikes someone, he’s pretty discreet about it. I can usually tell he’s annoyed if he gets really quiet or avoids them, but with Caleb, he’s not showing any aforementioned signs. Then again, I can barely tell if he likes me most days.

“I don’t see it as boring, actually,” he says.

“Nothing exhilarates Teller more than a spreadsheet,” I say, shooting him a reassuring smile.

“And you guys have been able to stay in close touch even though you’re at different schools?” Riley asks.

“Only because she won’t leave me alone.” Teller gives me a playful smile. I know he’s kidding, but that stings a little.

Actually, it stings a lot. Only, it’s not just a metaphorical sting. It’s the literal feeling of pin prickles on my back.

And that’s when it registers. I’m somewhere else—mentally, that is. I’m in a lush green field. The tall grass sways in the wind, revealing clusters of daisies and a kaleidoscope of wildflowers.

It’s just like when I was mid–make out with Mark B. in the frat-house basement. Technically, I’m still sitting next to Caleb, but instead of looking at my plate, or Teller and Riley across the table, this crystal-clear image of a field has hacked my brain.

A deep, familiar laugh rings out beside me over the hum of cicadas. I’m not alone. It’s Teller, walking next to me. We’re talking, laughing, though I can’t discern what we’re saying. It’s comfortable, familiar, this gentle back-and-forth, the little knowing looks that fill the space. The way we don’t need to say anything at all to understand. The way we know each other better than anyone else.

As we continue through the field, Teller’s pace quickens. He’s walking so fast. I can’t keep up. I shout, “Slow down!” and he stops, turning around to face me. Only now, there’s something different about him. There’s something different in his eyes, and it’s more than general annoyance. It’s cold, distant. Disdain?

We stand, staring at each other in heavy silence. It doesn’t feel the same, me and him. Seconds ago, I could tell him everything. But now there’s only tension, an invisible barrier between us. That’s when I notice the wildflowers and daisies have transitioned to dense, thorny bushes, their sharp edges scratching and digging into my skin with every minuscule movement.

“Teller?” I scream, trying to reach for him, only to realize the ground is spreading between us, pulling us farther and farther apart.

I try to step, but the ground is uneven and shifty, like it’s about to give way. And it does.

I’m standing in total blackness. Teller is still there, only he’s not. He’s a blur of images and snapshots. He’s happy, strolling through campus, hand in hand with someone who looks like Sophie. He’s driving his Corolla, arm out the window, singing to the radio. He’s in a suit on his wedding day. He’s playing in a sunlit yard with children.

I’m just an observer, watching helplessly as he lives his life entirely without me. There’s a heaviness in my chest that feels like loss, weighing me down. I couldn’t get to him if I tried.

And then it’s black again. He’s gone and I’m alone. I can barely breathe. I think I’m going to lose him.

“Lo?” someone shouts. Something warm nudges me in the shoulder, snapping me back. It’s Caleb, waving his hand in front of my face.

Teller and Riley are watching me, perplexed. A surge of relief washes over me. Teller isn’t gone. He’s very much here ... at least, right now.

“You good?” Teller asks.

“I—uh, yeah. Sorry. I just zoned out,” I say, brushing it off. He doesn’t seem convinced, eyes lingering over me for an extended beat as I replay it all in my mind. Was that another vision? It certainly felt like it did the first time, only this one was much more vivid. My aunts used to tell me about their visions all the time. They were random, symbolic, mostly to do with other people—and they were always right.

The rest of the double date goes as well as it can. There’s a short debate over whether cereal should be considered soup, and then the waiter comes with the bill. I think Riley can tell I’m a little off, because she asks to see pictures of Brandon and Brian. She seems genuinely interested, and frankly, I’m grateful for the distraction.

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