Page 71 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
“Why not?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
I wonder what would happen if I tried to tell my mom about the time loop. She didn’t believe me the first time, but I have more experience telling people now. Cam believed me.Madison believed me. But right now, I’m too tired to go through that again.
My mom isn’t offended by my words; she has three kids, and she’s heard them before.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask.
“Would you rather talk to him instead?”
I shake my head.
“He went to pick something up at the pharmacy,” she says, stroking my hair again. “He’ll be back soon.” She leads me to the kitchen, where she turns on the kettle and takes out some gingersnaps. “You didn’t go to work today?”
“No. I couldn’t. I called in sick.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You’re not even working from home?”
I shake my head again.
This is why I came here and not to Avery; I had to see people who knew me from before time got stuck. People who really know me. Or at least, they know the person I used to be.
I stand by my parents’ wall calendar, looking at their plans for days that don’t exist in my reality. My parents have always been big on building community and helping their neighbors. They volunteer at a literacy program, and they’re supposed to take the elderly woman across the street to an appointment next week. With a jolt, I think of my next-door neighbor. I don’t see Mrs. Santos on June 20, but I used to take down her recycling every Thursday. The first time I met her, she greeted me in a language I don’t know—Tagalog?—and tried not to look disappointed when I said I didn’t speak it.
My father enters the kitchen and touches my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”
I start sobbing again, and my parents exchange a look.
“You can stay here tonight,” Mom says.
“No, I… I’ll go home in a few hours. I just…”
I don’t have the words.
At my childhood home, I eat a snack and watch TV—the same things I’d be doing in my apartment, but here, I’m not alone. My parents keep exchanging looks, keep opening their mouths, then shutting them.
This behavior isn’t like me. I’m usually quite predictable, and as a kid, I wanted to go to school even when I was sick. If this were my sister, it would just be one of those things that happens occasionally, but the only time I ever did something like this was after Dave dumped me. And back then, I immediately told them what had happened.
I have no idea what they’re assuming now. Maybe their assumptions are getting wilder with every minute I don’t tell them what’s wrong, yet I’m sure they haven’t hit upon the truth.
Darling, do you think our daughter could be trapped in a time loop?
No, I doubt that’s occurred to them.
Seeing my parents together is rather painful, actually. Some people hate the thought of being like their parents at all, but I imagined I’d be like them in some respects—and that didn’t happen.
I never thought they had a grand romance, but I didn’t need that for myself; I just wanted the same quiet companionship and affection that my parents have with each other. After my breakup, I shoved those desires down. Clearly, I wouldn’t be like my mom and dad; the relationship I started in university hadn’t lasted. And while I knew you didn’t need to meet someone by twenty-one, my brother married his university sweetheart as well. I wasn’t interested in making myself vulnerable again—why subject myself to the possibility of pain?—and it felt like love was something I couldn’t have.
But last night, with Cam…
I can’t have him either, even if I yearn for it. Simply wanting something isn’t enough to make it true.
My parents invite me to stay for dinner, but I refuse. Dad drives me home at five o’clock, not complaining about rush hour.
When he drops me off in front of my apartment building, he says, “If you ever need to move back in with us, it’s fine. We have room.”
“Thank you, but it’s not a financial difficulty.”
