Page 10 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
Strangely, I feel like I got six or seven hours of sleep, and I don’t notice the effects of the caffeine and booze I consumed yesterday. Or the previous iteration of today, whatever you want to call it.
I check for all the backups of the proposal to confirm that, yes, it did indeed vanish into thin air. There’s no record of any of the money I spent. My hair is long again.
I’m stuck, and I feel a desperate need to tellsomeone.
I call my parents. The phone rings and rings… and this time my mom picks up. I guess if I call at a slightly different time, I’ll get a different parent, depending on who’s closest to the phone.
“Noelle?” she says. “Is something wrong? You never call at this time.”
“I have a problem.”
I picture my mom, her hair a mix of blonde and gray, standing at the phone in the kitchen. She has a notepad and a selection of pens by the phone; like Madison, she sometimes doodles while she talks. She also uses the pens to write her plans on the wall calendar.
“I’m reliving the same day over and over,” I say.
“Yes, adulthood can be like that. You go to work, you come home—”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m literally reliving June twentieth.”
“What have you eaten today? Are you doing drugs?”
“No, I’m not doing drugs, Mom. I mean, other than alcohol and caffeine.”
“You’re drinking before eight in the morning?”
“No, but I drank yesterday. Which was also June twentieth.” I let out an unhinged laugh-snort, which probably doesn’t help my mother believe that I’m telling the truth. “Wordle has been the same for days.”
“Maybe it’s a glitch—”
“No, I’m really reliving the same day.”
Mom was good with the various problems my siblings flung at her when they were younger. When Dalton got bitten by a raccoon, she handled it and got him a rabies shot. When Madison got attacked by a mini poodle…
Okay, yes, my siblings had bad luck with animals, but that wasn’t all. Mom dealt with my sister’s numerous heartbreaks and music obsessions and anxieties, but she seems to have no idea what to do now. Clearly, she doesn’t believe me.
“How about I come over after breakfast?” She’s attempting to sound like her usual calm self—I take after her in that respect—but she can’t maintain the façade. “You could use some company, and I don’t think you should go to the office in this state.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not. There’s no point in working when anything I do is just going to vanish. But you don’t need to come over,” I add hurriedly.
I suddenly regret telling my mother about this. Why didI bother? If Mom told me that she was literally repeating the same day over and over,Iwouldn’t believe her.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’ve just been rather unhappy with life lately, that’s all, and there’s this guy at work…”
“Oh?”
“Not likethat, god no. I keep having to redo his work. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.”
I put my head in my hands, feeling guilty that I made my mother worry. On the plus side, she’ll forget about it in less than twenty-four hours.
I’m still not used to this no-consequences thing, to this hours-of-free-time thing. My usual routine is gone because everything is pointless now.
I send an email to my boss to let him know that I’m sick—even if it’s not strictly necessary, sending that email every day still feels like the right thing to do—then consider what I could clean with all my free time before remembering it doesn’t matter. Any cleaning I do will be gone tomorrow.
It really is hard to adjust to living without consequences.
I try to find other people with my problem, but my Google searches are unsuccessful. If only I could find one other person with this issue, I’d feel less alone. Or if I had a close friend, someone who would believe me no matter what…
I flop on the futon and look through the contacts on my phone. I debate sending a text to Veronica. If I had to pick a best friend—like, if I were forced at gunpoint—she’d be it. Yes, I know that’s a weird thought, but my current circumstancesarepretty weird. I haven’t texted her in months, though, and I haven’t seen her in half a year. I feel guilty for neglecting our friendship, but I also feel guilty for thinking of texting her only because I’m lonely in a time loop.
