Page 45 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
“You could say that, but I don’t want to talk about it now. I’m here with you, and I can deal with it tomorrow.” I feel like I’m all over the place; my feelings are a yo-yo.
“To tomorrow,” he says, lifting an imaginary glass into the air and clinking it against my imaginary champagne flute.
To tomorrow, indeed.
In the mornings, before I go out to meet Cam, I do research. I read about him on the Leaside Brewing website—it’s how I learn that his last name is Huang—and I teach myself about beer. I didn’t know the difference between lagers and ales before, but I do now. Most beers are supposed to be clear, but I discover that hefeweizens are meant to be hazy. I learn about hops and IBUs. I learn a bit about the process of making beer, what must go on behind the scenes at Leaside Brewing. I don’t use any of this knowledge to impress Cam; when I go to the brewery, I always say I know nothing about beer. But it makes me feel closer to him, somehow. It also makes me feel like a lovesick teenager.
I look him up on social media, and I laugh when I see a picture of him next to a “Welcome to Canmore” sign. I had wondered if he’d been there.
Occasionally, I take the day off from seeing Cam and go somewhere with Avery. We rent a car and drive to Prince Edward County, where we go to a couple of wineries and sunbathe on a sandy beach. Another time, we head up to Collingwood and swim in Georgian Bay.
I show her the trailer for the historical drama, and she agrees it looks interesting, a sad smile on her face. I read her favoritefantasy series and encourage her to write fanfic, which she told me she used to do.
Our attempts to get out of the loop—a little half-hearted on my part—continue to fail. She goes to four different walk-in clinics to see if she can find a doctor who will believe her story.
She can’t.
I haven’t been neglecting my friend, but something I have been neglecting?
My family.
One night, when I’m lying awake at midnight and replaying Cam’s goodbye kiss in my head, I decide that will change in the morning.
17Noelle
June 20, Version 110, or thereabouts. I’m losing track
ME: Any plans for the day? How about I come over?
DALTON: Aren’t you working?
ME: No, I have the day off.
DALTON: Sure! Whenever you’re free. Lenora usually naps at two.
I arrive at my brother’s apartment just as Lenora is finishing lunch. My fourteen-month-old niece has some jam on her nose and peanut butter below her ear. There’s a half-chewed stick of cucumber on the tray of her high chair.
Dalton takes her out and wipes her off.
“Can you say hi to Auntie Noelle?” He waves in my direction.
Lenora waves at me, then buries her head against her father’s shoulder.
“It’s been so long,” I say, leaning in to hug them.
Dalton frowns. “We saw you at Mom and Dad’s last weekend.”
Oh, right.
“Well, uh, it’s been a long time since I visited your place.” I’m pretty sure this is correct. The problem is that I’m starting to forget details of my life before June 20.
“Very true,” Dalton says, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. I don’t soundtooconfused.
Dalton is two years younger than me. Since his wife finished her mat leave, he’s been a stay-at-home father. He’s wanted kids of his own ever since he was a small child himself; when Madison came home from the hospital, he was enamored with her. He was so excited to have a little sister. He gave her toys and tried to comfort her when she cried, whereas I was indifferent. He also enjoyed pretending to be the parent of his stuffed hippo and beloved Ninja Turtle.
When my brother heads to the living room, I follow. One side of the floor is covered in a colorful alphabet play mat.
“How about you sit here with your auntie while I clean up?” He sets Lenora down and walks away.
