Page 93 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
“Don’t ask too many questions?” I repeat. What on earth?
“Because anything you ask her… she’ll be prepared for an attack.”
“Anattack?”
“About her life choices—and things that aren’t actually choices.”
What the hell happened between us? If only I could call the other version of myself in for questioning.
“Noelle,” he says. “Certain things have always been easy for you. Following instructions. Finishing your homework on time. Getting out of bed in the morning. But many things that seem trivial to you… aren’t simple for other people. Or they go through phases when they’re not. You seem to think that if someone has a legitimate problem, as you like to call it, there will be a straightforward solution, but that isn’t always the case.”
This is the most my dad has lectured me as an adult, and I’m momentarily taken aback. But it provides some clues as to what might be going on.
My little sister is struggling with life. This isn’t the first time; no, her mental health problems started in high school, and she’s never managed to find a career that she can tolerate for long.
I cringe at the thought of what I might have said to her. How did I become so rigid? So lacking in compassion?
“When she moved back home…” Dad begins, and I try to pay attention to what he says next, but I’m stuck on that fact. She was living with her boyfriend. Did they break up?
And she wasn’t at my parents’ house when I visited last time, even though she apparently lives there now. Did she leave just because she knew I’d be coming over?
I blow out a breath. “Okay. I understand.”
I’m still not sure exactly what I said to Madison, but at least I have some sense of what happened, and I understand her better now than I did before the loop.
As I board the bus, I consider some of the ways in which that bizarre experience has changed me. It’s now easy for meto imagine that my sister has gone through something that I can’t comprehend. Probably not as bizarre as a time loop—but I think about how I kept trying to solve that problem and got nowhere, and I’m better able to empathize.
I also recall my brief interaction with the healthcare system. I imagine doing that year after year, not just on a couple of June 20s, without success. It sounds frustrating and demoralizing.
Madison isn’t downstairs when I arrive on Monday after work, but everyone else is already here. Dalton holds Lenora back from trying to scribble with a crayon on Cecil.
I pull the red envelopes out of my bag and give one to my niece. She doesn’t fully understand what it is, but that’s okay; her parents can save the ten-dollar bill for her. Cecil has zero interest in a red envelope, but I thought it was only right to give one to him too.
With infinite patience, Dalton explains over and over that you should only draw on paper, not on babies; Lenora tries to draw on her father instead. Eventually, she’s redirected to the coffee table, where blank paper and crayons are set out for her. I sit on the floor next to her and help myself to a piece of cantaloupe from the fruit tray that my father has prepared.
“How’s work?” Dalton asks, while simultaneously preventing all the fruit from being dumped on the floor by a toddler.
“It’s fine.” I stick with my standard response for now, but I’ll tell my family once I start looking seriously for jobs. So far, I’ve just polished my résumé and done a little searching.
I hear some noise from the hallway, and a moment later, Madison appears. She’s wearing jeans and a large sweater, and she looks like her typical self, to my relief. But then she glances around the room, and I swear her eyes narrow slightly when she notices me.
“Hey, Madison,” I say.
She doesn’t reply.
If she wants to ignore me today, that’s fine—I’m just glad to see her. I think of the day we had dumplings together; I think of the fact that she was the first person I told about my strange reality who believed me.
It doesn’t feel like the best time to try to apologize and make things right—I’d rather talk to her when it’s just the two of us—but I’ll do it soon.
As Lenora attempts to feed Cecil a slice of kiwi, I can’t help wondering what their relationship will be like as they grow up.
The next day, I’m on the bus after work when I get a message from Cam.
CAM: Happy new year! How was your family dinner?
ME: Pretty good. Tired today though.
CAM: Too much food?
