Page 8 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
My life is now a strange, strange place. I no longer feel like Noelle Tom, responsible eldest daughter and engineer. No, I’m…
WhoamI?
4Noelle
June 20, Version 6
I treat myself to a meal at an upscale sushi restaurant and spend the afternoon wondering if I’ve completely lost my mind. The day after that is similar, except I eat at a steak house that I’ve never dared to set foot in before.
The following day, I go to a French bistro.
“The moules-frites, please,” I tell the server, “and a glass—no, a bottle of wine.”
“Which bottle?” he asks.
I point randomly at the list of whites.
“Will anyone else be joining you?”
“Nope, it’s just me,” I say brightly.
I feel a bit weird for ordering a bottle of wine for myself at noon on a Friday, but whatever. Everyone—except me—will have forgotten within twelve hours or so.
I’ve never ordered a bottle of wine at a restaurant before. My ex once suggested that we do so on our anniversary, and I frowned and said, “Why? It’s cheaper at the liquor store.”
I don’t know shit about wine, but I do quite like the one I randomly selected. I sip it as I read a novel. When my food arrives, I slide my e-reader back into my purse and indulge inmy mussels in tomato-wine broth, plus perfectly cooked fries with a generous amount of salt. Do they taste better than usual because I’m tipsy?
I don’t bother finishing the bottle. Three glasses are enough for me. I wince as I hand over my credit card, then remind myself that it doesn’t matter.
A long afternoon without plans stretches out before me. I don’t know how to fill it, so I ask myself a question that I’ve never asked before: What would Madison do?
My sister might get a crazy haircut and quit her job.
A haircut isn’t a bad idea. I’ve always wanted to try a pixie cut, but I don’t know if I could pull it off. Now I can give it a spin without any consequences, it seems. I walk to the nearest salon.
“I’d like to make an appointment for a cut,” I say to the receptionist.
She looks me up and down. I’m not sure what, exactly, she’s assessing.
“Our junior stylist has a bunch of openings for next Wednesday.”
“It has to be today,” I say.
“Lina did have a cancellation…”
The salon is named after Lina, so I suspect she’s the most expensive, and I must look like someone who doesn’t spend much money on my hair. In fact, I used to do it myself, but the results weren’t great. I eventually decided that having someone else cut my hair a few times a year was an acceptable use of money.
“I’ll take it,” I say. “When—”
“Come back in half an hour.”
Unsure what else to do, I head to the bubble tea shop two doors down. I order a milk tea with both tapioca and jellies. Once again, a ridiculous indulgence. As I wait for my order, I pull out my phone and look for a podcast, but there are no newepisodes of my favorite one, because of course there aren’t. It might never be updated again, which is a sobering thought.
Well, only a little sobering. I’m still feeling those three glasses of wine.
“—Iron Goddess milk tea with pearls,” says a voice.
There’s something about that voice that makes my head snap up. It’s familiar, and I can hear the smile in it.
