Remember Yesterday

43

A rail suspended from the ceiling runs down the center of the living area. A thick metal arch hangs from one end of the rail, nearly as wide as the room. On the other end, my dad stands in front of a computer terminal, his hands dancing over a keyball, while my mother reviews a holo-doc of her notes. In the center of the room is a glass platform with two sets of footprints imprinted on the surface.

That’s where Tanner and I are supposed to stand.

Sweat breaks out along my hairline, and I tug at the neck of my robe, trying to get a little air circulation. And my heart rate? Just as Preston predicted, it’s climbing off the charts.

“How, uh…how exactly does this time machine work?” I ask.

Preston looks up, two parallel lines creasing his brow. “What do you know about the Einstein-Rosen bridge?”

I exchange a shrug with my mom, the other non-scientist in the room. “Nothing? Lovely name, though.”

“Wormholes,” my dad says patiently. “What do you know about the physics of wormholes?”

“Are they a kind of tunnel?” I wrinkle my forehead, trying to remember the cartoon drawings from my intro-level physics class. “If space were a two-dimensional surface, the entry point would be a hole, which leads to a three-dimensional tube emerging at a different hole along the flat surface. Except every dimension is increased by one.” I try and once again fail to wrap my mind around the concept. “That’s where the teacher lost me.”

“That’s the gist of it.” He presses a button on the terminal, and the time machine comes to life. The arch moves forward a few inches, clanking and groaning against the rails. “When the arch passes over you, it will send you down a wormhole that will allow you to emerge in a different time. The anchor—in this case, your mother—ensures that you will surface at the right location and moment. So long as you and Tanner are touching, she’ll serve as his anchor, too.”

As if to demonstrate, the arch continues to creak forward, and a loud whir fills the room.

Preston raises his voice. “I know that’s a simplistic explanation. I know you’re capable of understanding more. But the machine’s warming up, and I need you and Tanner in your places.” Hesitantly, he lays a hand on my arm. “Maybe, when you get back, I can walk you through the details. What do you say?”

I meet his eyes and know he’s asking for more than a rain check. Implicit in his question is the promise that I’ll come back. The promise that he’ll still be here. And the fervent hope that this is the beginning—and not the end—of our father-daughter bond.

I leap into his arms for a hug he’s clearly not expecting, and after a moment, he wraps his arms around me tightly, so tightly, as though he never wants to let me go. “I never knew you were born,” he says, and I almost can’t hear him above the increasingly loud noise of the machine. “But that doesn’t make you any less my daughter. Sometimes, the biggest holes in our lives are the ones we aren’t aware of. Come back to us, Jessa.”

He releases me, and my mother’s next. She grabs my hands, and hers are clammy and cold. “Dear heart, I know you love your sister. I know you want to save her at all costs. But please, if the choice comes down to it…save yourself.”

“But Callie’s the good one. The one who deserved to live.” An ache rises from my throat to the backs of my eyes. “She’s the one we all wished had survived.”

“What?” Her eyes, her mouth, her face go rigid with shock. “Jessa, what are you saying? How could you believe that?”

“I’ve always believed that.”

“No, Jessa. No. You’re so wrong. Or maybe I’m the one who was wrong.” She pulls me into an embrace, her hands gripping my back. Something hot and wet drips onto my shoulders. Tears. She’s crying. Over me?

She leans back, and her eyes are devastated, but her jaw is clenched. “Now you listen, and you listen carefully,” she says fiercely. “I don’t know what I did to give you that idea, but I have never felt that way. Not for one second. Do you hear me? You are just as worthy, just as loved as Callie. The two of you are twins, but the only thing identical about you is my love for you.”

I blink. And blink. And blink. “It’s almost worth going on this mission just to hear you say that.”

She breaks down then, sobbing on my shoulder. “Then I should’ve said it sooner. I’m so sorry, dear heart. So sorry.”

I wrap my arms around her, and we stand like that for an endless moment. Making up for all the hugs we didn’t share in the last decade. My father approaches and embraces us both. I look at him over my mom’s shoulders, and his eyes are wet.

“I’m sorry, too,” he says hoarsely. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me.”

I sniff. “I was fine, Dad.”

“That’s when a girl needs her father the most. When she doesn’t even know it.”

And then, the time machine emits a particularly loud groan, and we break apart. I glance up to find Tanner watching us, his eyes wistful, his smile sad. With a pang, I realize no one’s here to see him off. I have both my parents, and he has nobody. And hasn’t for a very long time.

My heart squeezes. I can do more than just try, damn it. I can show him I’m here for him, even if it’s for only this moment. Leaving my parents, I walk to him and offer my hand. “Come on. Let’s go back to yesterday.”

He stares at me, his mouth closed. He may have already said everything that needs to be said. But I haven’t.

“Whatever happens…I do want to start over,” I say. “I don’t want a single mistake to erase the future. So…my name is Jessa. And I would very much like to go to the past with you.”

There’s more—so much more—in my head, in my heart. But those feelings have yet to coalesce into words, and I’m not ready to share my half-formed thoughts.

“My name’s Tanner. And I would go anywhere with you. You just have to say the word.” He takes my hand, and the contact is both jarring and familiar. I simultaneously feel like I’ve entered foreign territory—and have come home.

We walk to the platform and stand on the footprints. We keep our hands intertwined and face each other. Already, I can feel the zip-pull-prick of the currents flowing around us.

“Looking good, you two.” Preston takes his position behind the keyball, and my mother puts on a helmet made of thin metal strips and slips under the doughnut screen. She injects a black chip into the terminal. In a moment, the memory she recorded of that fateful day will play across the screen, and she’ll remember as hard as she can.

“On my count,” my dad says. “Three…”

Letting go of Tanner’s hand, I slide the robe off my shoulders. It falls to the platform, and cool air swirls around my naked breasts and stomach. Tanner mimics my movements. Despite his earlier joking, he looks directly, unwaveringly into my eyes. We join hands once more.

“Two…”

The currents nipping at my skin pick up speed and whirl wildly around us. I feel like we’re inside a tornado, but there’s no physical force. The vibrations skim along my skin, invisible gossamer threads that circle my legs, covering them, before moving up my torso, my neck, my mouth. I stare into Tanner’s startled eyes, but I can no longer talk. The threads creep up our faces, and I can no longer see or smell.

“One…”

There’s an impossible ringing in my ears. My body shoots out of itself, as though the molecular cells are trying to outrun their container.

And then…nothing.