Page 63 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
After a long hesitation, she says, “She’s telling the truth. The two of us are living the same day over and over.”
“You see?” I say.
“Right.” Cam scrubs a hand over his face. “How about I call you a cab, or get you to the TTC—”
“It’s okay,” Avery says. “I’m staying with her tonight. I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.”
I start laughing. I’ve lived June 20 so many times before, yetthishas never happened. It’s amazing how many possibilities there are in a single day. You can quit your job… or not. You can go to Vancouver and feel the rain on your skin. You can eat three types of dumplings and get sprayed by a skunk when you go hunting for ghosts in a cemetery. You can…
Huh. I’ve been bundled outside, and Avery is trying to make sure I walk in a straight line.
“Why am I so drunk?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she says, “but hangovers don’t seem to happen on June twentieth, so you’ll be probably be as good as new in the morning.”
“Avery, you’re my best friend. If we ever get out of this, Ipromise I won’t forget it.” With that proclamation, I trip on the sidewalk, but she catches me before I fall.
“But what if, when we get out of this,” she says, “we don’t remember all the repeats?”
“That’s not possible. We have to remember. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
“Maybe thereisno point.”
Hm. That’s interesting.
I’ll think about it tomorrow.
I wake up to my alarm. It’s six forty-five, and the morning light filtering through the window doesn’t hurt my head. Once again, it’s June 20, and I’m simultaneously relieved—I didn’treallyquit my job—and pissed off. Pissed off that I can’t change my life.
What else is even left to try?
HalloweenCam
I smile as I look out at the crowd gathered in the taproom and on the small heated patio. Our Halloween event is a bigger success than last year’s, and I enjoy seeing all the people mingling, laughing, drinking. In the corner, someone in a donut costume is dancing. Several witches have congregated on the other side of the bar.
Yet even though everything is going well, I’m hit by the strange feeling that something isn’t quite right. It’s like I want someone to be here—twining her fingers with mine, pressing a kiss to my cheek—but she isn’t.
How can I miss someone without knowing who she is? This isn’t just my romantic heart wanting a relationship; no, it feels different. A yearning for someone in particular, even if I don’t know her name.
It makes no sense.
I hear laughter to my left, and I turn. There’s a middle-aged woman wearing a box that is clearly supposed to be a Rubik’s Cube. Specifically, one that hasn’t been solved yet.
“Love your costume,” she says to me.
For some reason, I look down at my chest, as if I don’t know what I’m wearing, even though I spent hours making my red Pocky box outfit. “Thanks.”
She grabs the arm of her companion—who’s dressed as a ghost—and tows her toward the bar, just as my phone vibrates in my pocket. I ignore it and continue to survey the room. Darrell has no interest in brewing a pumpkin beer, but we have some spiced pumpkin ale on our guest tap, and it’s been fairly popular all week.
I decide to check in with Miriam behind the bar, but before I can get there, my phone vibrates again. Pulling my phone out of my pocket when I’m wearing this costume is no small feat. I head into the employees-only area, slide my arm back through the armhole of the Pocky box, and reach into my pocket. By the time I’ve successfully retrieved my phone, it’s stopped ringing, but it starts again a few seconds later, “Dad” flashing across the screen. It’s almost 10 p.m., which is an unusual time to hear from him. He rarely calls me, and never this late.
This can’t be good.
There’s a tightness in my chest as I answer the call, bracing myself for whatever news I’m about to receive. Is this why I had that peculiar feeling earlier—did some part of me already know?
No, that was something else, though I can’t explain why I’m so sure.
“Cam.” Even in that single syllable, my father’s voice sounds all wrong. “You have to come to the hospital.”
