Page 20 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
Yeah, no. That sounds utterly ridiculous. In fact, everything I’ve been doing lately has sounded utterly ridiculous, but when you’re stuck in a ridiculous situation, what else are you supposed to do?
It occurs to me that I could simply just… kiss him. Make the first move, without giving him a chance to pull back. But I want him to consent to kissing me.
Or maybe, while he was dripping in Iron Goddess milk tea, I should have leaned toward him and puckered my lips and hoped it was clear what I wanted… and he could do it. Or not.
But the idea of going through all that again is almost physically painful to me. As is the idea of kissing another man, for some reason. My brain has fixated on this easygoing guy, who doesn’t look like he’s held together by duct tape—but what do I know? I’ve only seen this brief snapshot of his life.
I find myself wishing I knew more. Wishing I knew how that smiling mouth would feel against mine, that strong hand on my back or around my waist.
I shake my head. Nothing will come from dwelling on such things.
Once again, I meet Avery for dinner. We go to a Greek restaurant on the Danforth, and I don’t hold myself back from ordering two appetizers.
“You know,” she says, as we’re waiting for our food, “we could try kissing each other. I’m straight—”
“Me too.”
“—but what if we need to kiss someone else who’s in the time loop? It seems unlikely, but it could be worth a shot, if you agree.”
“Yeah, why not.”
“We’ll do it after our meal.”
Outside an unbusy subway station, Avery presses her lips to mine. It’s not unpleasant, but it doesn’t do anything for me, and cartoon bluebirds don’t start singing or anything like that.
When I wake up to my alarm on June 20 again, I’m not surprised.
The two of us spend the next week or so—is it weird to think of time in weeks when it’s all the same day?—attempting to find a way out of our predicament. I post in more forums and subreddits without success. I try to contact a few more authors to see if their time-loop books were based on experience, but I don’t hear back. A discussion with a physicist leads to a lot of jargon I don’t understand and no good suggestions—I don’t think he truly believed us but treated it as a theoretical question.
I’m starting to lose hope.
After yet another fruitless conversation with a scientist, I go home and turn on the TV. I want to stay indoors for a few days, and the great thing about a time loop is that I can eat the same food in my apartment over and over again. (See? I’m finding the silver lining where I can.) There aren’t a lot of benefits, but that’s one of them.
I don’t feel like watching a six- or eight-episode season of a TV show that I’d be able to finish in a day. No, I want something with lots of episodes, so I start a show that I haven’t seen in years. Since I have time, I’m going to binge-watch in a way I’ve never allowed myself to binge-watch before.
9Noelle
June 20, Version 29 (I think? I wish I could carve lines in the wall like a prisoner, but alas, my lines would disappear overnight)
I’ve been watchingHousefor four days—or is it five? It’s hard to keep track when the date doesn’t change. After finishing an episode, I make myself the same bag of popcorn that I’ve consumed several times before and settle back on the futon.
As I watch Gregory House solve yet another medical mystery, I realize what I need to do: I need to go to my family doctor and explain the problem. Surely my case is interesting and serious and someone will want to solve it.
The next morning, I call the doctor’s office first thing and say that I would like an appointment today. They’re able to squeeze me in at 2 p.m.
When I arrive, there are a few other people in the waiting room: a mom and her little boy on a Nintendo Switch, an elderly man who sounds like he’s hacking up a lung, and a middle-aged woman who sits quietly with her hands folded in her lap. I’ve only been here twice before. My previous doctor retired, and it took me forever to find a new one. Like last time, she’s running about half an hour behind, but finally, I’m called in.
“What brings you here today, Noelle?” Dr. Connelly is about fifty and has a kind smile.
“Well,” I say, “I’m living the same day over and over.”
She nods as if she understands.
I’m positive she doesn’t.
“I don’t mean every day seems the same,” I say. “I’m literally reliving June twentieth. Wordle is ‘happy’ today, right?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t done it yet.”
