Page 113 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
“Oh dear. I promise I won’t do that.”
That afternoon, I go to the grocery store and buy ingredients for a recipe I’ve never written down, never tried to change. At home, I begin preparations for my grandfather’s beef and broccoli. It’s the only way I’d eat broccoli as a kid—even when it was loaded down with cheese, I’d decline it. We struggled to communicate with each other at times, but food was a form of connection.
When everything is ready, I serve us each a bowl of jasmine rice, then put the wok in the center of the table and tell Avery to help herself.
“Wow,” she says after a bite. “You’ve been eating ramen when you can cook like this?”
I shrug. I’m uncomfortable with the compliment because I feel like it should be for my grandfather, not me. “I don’t want to cook like this every day.”
“I get it. I don’t want to cook dinner every day either. That’s why I can’t understand people who don’t like leftovers. Leftovers are the best.”
“Agreed.”
We eat in contented silence for a few minutes before we discuss what to do for the evening, eventually deciding to get a trial of a different streaming service for variety. Avery insists on cleaning up afterward, and I retreat to the futon and look at my phone. There’s a text from Madison, telling me that a restaurant we used to like when we were young has closed. I smile. Not because the restaurant has closed—that’s a bummer—but because she’s texting me.
I’m about to put my phone aside, when I get a text from Veronica.
VERONICA: I know this is a long shot, but do you know anyone who’s looking for a place to live? I have a friend who needs a roommate.
“Avery!” I say, and she turns off the tap. “I might have an apartment for you.”
That night, I struggle to sleep. There’s a lot on my mind. Things that have happened… and things that have yet to happen. Tomorrow, I’ll tell Cam the truth, and I’m not sure how it’ll go. I’m glad I have some explanation for him now, but it’s not much of one. I don’t like that I’ll never have all the answers.
I eat leftovers for lunch, and then I head outside, my new scarf wrapped around my neck. It was nice to make something with my hands—and not have it disappear overnight.
Before going to Cam’s, I make a stop at the Filipino restaurant that sold the halo-halo at the night market, and I buy some leche flan. I don’t want to show up empty-handed, and the flan was delicious. I also can’t help thinking of how strongly the scent of cinnamon rolls reminded me of our morning-after. Maybe seeing or tasting the flan will jog Cam’s memory. Doubtful, but it’s worth a shot.
I dawdle from the transit stop to his apartment. I normally have a determined, quick pace, but not today; I’m delaying the inevitable. The hard conversations.
When Cam opens the door for me, I smile. I can’t help it. He looks happy to see me—as always—and his relaxed posture is a contrast to my own. As soon as I take off my winter boots, he kisses me, and the kiss makes me ache with longing.
I wonder if I’ll ever get to do this again.
“You weren’t replying to my texts early in the week,” he says. “I worried that something was wrong, but I’m glad you’re here now.”
“Yes, well, about that.” I pause. “I’m sorry about blowing you off on Friday. Something important came up, which is related to what I have to tell you. Would you mind making some coffee?”
Cam’s mouth briefly turns down, but then he’s smiling again. “Sure thing.”
I’m delaying the inevitable just a little longer. Waiting until I have a mug to hide behind. I think of all the exchanges, all the touches, that have led us to this point, so many things he doesn’t remember.
Once we’re seated on the couch, leche flan on a plate in front of us, coffee on Leaside Brewing coasters, I say, “Okay. Here’s what happened.”
43Cam
“We’ve actually met before this year,” Noelle says. “I was stuck reliving the same day over and over, and in many of those repeats, I saw you.”
“You’re saying you were trapped in a time loop?”
“Yes.”
I’m not sure what I expected her to tell me, but it certainly wasn’t that. It usually takes quite a bit to shock me into silence, but she’s succeeded.
“On June twentieth, I was working late, and I didn’t feel like cooking, so I went to a night market that was happening at Mel Lastman—the one you mentioned when we walked by. I ate some dumplings, and the next day, it was June twentieth again. But nobody had any knowledge of the previous June twentieths except me—and Avery, as I later learned. She was also repeating the day.”
“How do I fit into this?” I ask.
“The first time I saw you was at the market. I was having a bit of a breakdown, owing to the whole trapped-in-a-time-loop thing, and you asked if I was okay. Another time, I saw you at a bubble tea shop. You were kind and good-looking and I thought maybe if you kissed me, it would break the curse. Like a fairy tale.”
