Page 48 of Check Me Out

“Well, a lot of peoplewantto go to Australia. Or at the very least they’re complacent about it. Ready for a change of scenery. Also, this opportunity, the chance to fly back home? People get it only once. After they’ve used it, well, the next time something happens, it’s a nonstop flight.”

Joe nods. He sort of gets it.

“And there’s one other thing.” Han winces as if this part is uncomfortable. “If he does choose to fly home, he won’t remember the journey. Because it hasn’t yet happened.”

Ugh. Joe never watches movies or reads books involving time travel because the logic always becomes too twisty. “If he doesn’t remember, won’t he just make the same choices?”

Looking unhappy, Han shrugs. “Maybe. But we like to hope—Ilike to hope—that even if he doesn’t remember the layover, his experiences on the island will affect him anyway. Maybe tickle his subconscious a little.”

That’s a pretty big maybe. Joe is pretty much done with fooling himself, and he knows that if he goes through the same motions, he’s going to end up experiencing all that horror and pain all over again, and he definitely doesn’t want that. Australia would be much better.

“Can the airport employees visit the US when they’re on vacation?”

“Yes!” Han gives a huge smile, which then fades. “But it’s complicated. They can decide where and when they’re going to land, but when they get there, they’ll be ordinary people, for all intents and purposes. Newborns, in fact. And they’ll lead an entire life in the US without remembering the island or realizing that they were once, uh, airport employees and will eventually be again.”

That’s harsh. But maybe necessary, Joe thinks. It might get messy if a bunch of otherworldly creatures knowingly plopped themselves into everyday human existence. “But they choose to do it anyway?”

“Sometimes, yes. Because the US is an interesting place. Full of interesting people.” And that is hand kiss number four.

Joe starts to mull over all the possibilities, but then a realization hits him and he gasps. “The… accident. Did I hurt anyone else?”

To his enormous relief, Han shakes his head. “Nobody else was injured. But I’m pleased that you asked. You’re a good person, Joe.”

A good person… okay, maybe. He’s never gone out of his way to harm others. He’s generally polite and considerate. When he finds spiders inside his home, he relocates them outside instead of squishing them. He donates to charities. He recycles. He keeps his promises.

But he’s not agreatperson. He’s never even tried to make positive changes in the world. Or in himself, for that matter. He’s never pushed himself to reach his potential. And he’s been so hesitant that he’s cheated himself out of a lot of potential happiness.

If he goes back, he might very well do the same damned stupid things, and then he is going to end up dying in agony in the crumpled remains of his Honda on the side of a freeway. With coffee stains and blood all over his clothing. And with nobody to truly mourn his loss.

Or he might not.

Joe Becker is a project manager for an insurance company. He knows all about risk analysis. For example, you don’t keep rebuilding your expensive structure in a flood zone.

But he looks at Han and thinks that it’s worth taking some big risks—when the potential benefits are so huge.

He stands and smiles at Han. “I’d like to return to the US, please.”

Han, who had apparently been holding his breath, lets it out in a noisy whoop, jumps to his feet, and hugs Joe very tight.

Joe abandons his shopping basket without a backward look and together he and Han retrace his steps to the supermarket entrance. It’s a much faster trip than it was when arriving. They stand in the entryway among the stacks of baskets and rows of carts. The automatic doors are opaque glass and the overhead fluorescents flicker.

“Thank you,” says Joe. “Whatever happens next, I’m so glad I got to meet you.”

Han, who’s sniffling a little but smiling, nods. “Likewise. You know, there’s always a chance…. Well, we won’t remember each other if we meet. But the chemistry might still be there.”

It’s a lovely notion.

They kiss again, slowly, hungrily, and if Joe could remain stuck forever in one moment of existence, this would be it. But life… or something… must go on.

They separate.

“Safe journey,” says Han.

Joe steps forward. The doors slide open. He walks out into the sun.

***

Joe Becker’s phone alarm bleated urgently. He growled, blinked bleary eyes, and poked at the damned thing until it shut up. Then he sat on the edge of his bed, head in hands, morosely calculating how much sleep he’d gotten. Two hours? Maybe as much as three, but definitely no more than that.

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