Page 25 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
Madison leans forward. “You look like you really needed a mental health day. If that guy at work is getting you down so much, you should tell your boss, even if it might not go well. Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, he probably won’t, but you’ll get another job. You’ve got lots of experience, right? If you feel stuck…”
Ha! She has no idea.
After lunch, Madison has things to do, and I walk around aimlessly.
What is the meaning of time? What is the meaning of life?
Am I trapped in a video game?
Why can’t I figure this out?
With everything I try, I feel like I’m grasping at straws, not making any real progress, and I fear I’ll be stuck here forever.
I stumble upon a brewery, and in my odd mental state, beer seems like a good idea, even though I’m not much of a beer person. A cold drink could be nice after being outside in the June weather. According to the sign, the taproom opens at three, which was two minutes ago.
When I step inside, the first thing I note is the singing. I look around. There are no other customers here, which isn’t surprising, since it just opened and most people are at work. Two men stand behind the bar with their backs to me. They’re singing something about winds and the sea. A sea shanty?
The one on the left is a thick white guy with shaggy brown hair. His voice is lower. The other man, who’s writing the tap list on a chalkboard, is smiling as he sings. I can hear it in his voice, even though I can’t see his face. There’s something very charming about it all, and I almost find myself smiling too, despite my worries about being trapped in a video game.
The first man stops singing when he sees me. “Hey. Take a seat wherever you like.” He gestures grandly around the taproom.
As I pull out a chair at the bar, the other man finishes the song. Then he turns around, and my heart speeds up. Unlike the other times we’ve met, he’s wearing a T-shirt that says “Leaside Brewing.”
“Hey.” He smiles. “Have we met before?”
11Noelle
June 20, Version 51-ish
It’s Cam. The guy from the tea shop. After he finishes his bubble tea, he must come here for work. Then after work, he goes to the night market.
Why am I running into him again? What does it mean?
Maybe it means nothing. It’s just a coincidence.
But I can’t shake the feeling that it isn’t.
“We have,” I say at last, replying to his question. “Cam, right? Cameron?”
“Actually, it’s short for ‘Canmore.’?”
“Did your parents name you after the place where you were conceived?”
I’m repeating a conversation we’ve had before because I’m thrown off by his appearance here and there’s comfort in the familiar, even if it’s a ridiculous question. I should know better than to ask such things. After all, my name sometimes leads people to ask if my parents are obsessed with Christmas—and that’s not nearly as awkward.
The other guy laughs.
So does Cam. “I hope not. They just said they looked at amap of Canada for inspiration.” He pauses. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”
“Noelle.”
“Nice to meet you. Again.”
“You used to be a journalist, right?” I try to follow the script, even though it’s an odd question in this situation. It’s easier than figuring out what else I should say to him. Sure, it’s been a while since we had this conversation, but I haven’t forgotten how it goes.
