Page 112 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
“So you really have no idea,” Avery says, “how she was able to do it? You never asked? If my mother performed magic—”
“Of course I asked. She just wouldn’t tell me, and I knew better than to keep pestering her with questions that might be related to her past.” She looks away. “She lost both of her brothers before I was born. There was a lot of tragedy in her early life, and by not telling us much about it, she felt like she was protecting us. Though, based on something she said once, I believe her mother had similar powers. But if I can do magic, I have no knowledge of it, and no children of my own. I’m not sure how it’s passed down.”
Avery looks like she’s struggling to understand the gaps in Judith’s knowledge. However, it’s not hard for me to wrap my mind around it, based on my experience with my own family. Sometimes, you know that half-truths are all the answers you’ll ever get, and you hold on to them as tightly as you can. I never knew much about my grandparents’ lives in China—and it wasn’t because of the language barrier.
“Thank you for what you’ve told us,” I say.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” Judith sounds warmer than she did at the beginning. “Now I know why Ma started this.” She gestures at the cart. “It wasn’t just about the food. Aiya! My brother was so mad when he found out.”
“Why did you continue it?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Something to do, I guess. I’m retired, no adult children to fuss over.” She smiles at us. “A way of feeling connected to her once she was gone. It’s only a few days a month.”
I can understand using food like that. When I was a teenager, my grandfather taught me how to make beef and broccoli the way it was served at the restaurant where he’d worked. Two years later, he passed away, and there was something comforting in the fact that I could make it exactly like he had.
So I don’t know Judith well, but I feel like I understand her on some level.
“Your lives, they turned out okay?” she asks. “You said you took extra risks?”
I’ll never be a big risk-taker, and that’s fine. But I’d become so afraid of taking any risk, so afraid that one small misstep would be catastrophic, and that wasn’t healthy.
I think back to my conversation with Madison and what she said about our grandparents. For them, at one point in time, a small mistake may well have ended in catastrophe. It might have even been fatal—I don’t know. They didn’t share those memories with us. I’m lucky not to be in that situation, and I don’t have to live like that, but perhaps some tiny part of me carried on the trauma of the generations before me.
In the loop, I was able to let go and try some things I wouldn’t have otherwise done, and I’m happy with the results, except…
“I met a guy while I was in the time loop,” I say. “Every day, my life reset, so he didn’t remember me—aside from his strong feelings of déjà vu. After the loop, I found him again, and we’re together, but… I have to tell him the truth. That I know him from another timeline. I’m not sure he’ll believe me.”
“Hm.” Judith taps her chin. “Maybe Ma’s goal had something to do with romance.” She looks at Avery.
“I broke up with my boyfriend,” Avery says. “Over and over and over.”
Judith turns back to me. “If he’s right for you, he will believe you.”
That’s a starry-eyed notion, one that makes me want to snort, but I hold it in. It also seems at odds with the woman who sounded wary and businesslike at the beginning of our conversation.
But what do I know? I first spoke to her twenty minutes ago, and even people you’ve known for years can surprise you.
“I should head home,” Judith says. “I’m not used to being on my feet for so much of the day. If there’s something else you want to know, you can call me.” She hands us each a business card. “Or come to one of the markets. They’re listed on the website.”
“Thank you,” I say, though I have no intention of eating any of her dumplings, even if she claims to not have her mother’s powers. There are countless other dumpling places in Toronto, and it’s not worth the risk.
When I look over at Avery, I can tell she’s having the same thought.
The next morning, I tell my temporary roommate that I’m cooking dinner for her.
“In exchange for the ziti,” I say as we’re drinking coffee together.
“You don’t need to,” Avery says. “Like I said, you’re letting me stay for free.”
“Just this once, don’t worry. Besides, you’re the one who found the dumpling cart. I owe you for that. I might never have come across it myself.”
She huffs. “We’re friends. We don’t need to keep score.”
True. I frown, worrying that I’m screwing up this friendship thanks to my lack of practice. I don’t want to keep a running tally of who’s done what for whom; I just want Avery to accept that I’ll cook dinner tonight.
When she pats my hand, I take it as a yes.
“Joe’s the last person who cooked for me,” she says. “Except I got food poisoning because he cut raw meat on the same cutting board as the vegetables for the salad.”
