TIme After Time

33

San Francisco, California

I spent the whole drive over here psyching myself up for my performance, but once I walked through Megan’s front door it all sort of clicked on its own. It could have been the loud music or the underlying buzz of conversation that carried from one packed room to the next, but whatever it was, I was grateful. I stood in the entryway, looked around, and sucked in the intoxicating scent of holiday cheer and out-of-town parents. I reminded myself that I didn’t have to genuinely enjoy being at this party; I just had to play the part.

Now I’m all smiles and backslaps, quick one-liners and snappy comebacks, acting so out of character of late that when Sam sees me, he shoots me this Who the hell are you right now look. I may suck as a superhero, but as it turns out, I’m a fairly decent actor.

“You’re certainly chipper tonight.” Of all people, I would have expected Brooke to see through me, but she must not, because I can hear the bitterness in her voice.

“I am,” I lie. “And I’m going to stay in a good mood because it’s Christmas vacation and you’re home from school and I’m surrounded by good friends and I’m tired of feeling like shit.” I smile and take a sip of my drink. “I’m done. From here on out, I’m living in the moment.” I raise my glass in the air, toasting no one in particular.

“You were pretty upset last night.” I look around at the guys to be sure no one overheard her, but I realize it’s impossible. I can barely hear her over the music.

I lean in close. “Well then, last night marked the end of my wallowing.”

Brooke looks at me and slowly shakes her head. After my parents and I picked her up from the airport last night, the two of us sat in my room talking for a long time. Then I made the mistake of showing her Anna’s photo album. We got about halfway through when I had to leave the room, and while she was flipping through pages, I was in the bathroom trying not to hurl. I returned with my eyes burning and my cheeks feeling hot, took the photo book out of her grasp, and smashed it back in the drawer. She never got to see the last picture.

“No offense,” Brooke says as she taps away on her phone, “but I’m not sure how much longer I can stand this high school party. Kathryn just texted me to see if I wanted to do something, but—” She looks up at me and stops talking.

“But?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head. “I guess I just thought you might need me around tonight, but you seem to be doing just fine, so…” She trails off, looking around the room. “I’m going to go outside and call her. See what’s up.”

Brooke walks away and I spot Sam and Lindsey hanging out by the fireplace. I’m just about to head over there when the room goes dark.

“Merry Christmas,” a voice whispers in my ear. I pull a pair of hands away from my face and turn around. Megan’s standing there wearing a red dress and a big grin. She pops one hip.

“It’s about time you made it to one of my parties.” She holds her arms out wide, palms up, and looks around the room. “See, now aren’t you sorry you didn’t get to one of these earlier?”

I smile and give her an exaggerated nod. “Truly devastated. I had no idea what I was missing.”

“Right?” She keeps coming in closer, shouting to be heard above the music. “And now your life is complete.” She rests her hand on my arm and lets it linger there a little too long. When I instinctively take a step back, she gets the hint and lets it drop.

“So, what are you doing over vacation?”

I shrug. “People keep asking me that, but I don’t think I have a very good answer.”

She tilts her head to one side. “What’s your answer?”

“Hanging out,” I say definitively, crossing my arms like I’m proud of myself for being so aimless. Megan shakes her head as if she’s actually disappointed in me and I shrug. “See what I mean? I’m not shooting very high.”

“No, not so much.”

I think about the only plan I have. The one I can’t tell her or Sam or Brooke or anyone else about. The plan I do not want to think about right now.

“Bennett?” Megan is using a singsong voice, waving her hand back and forth in front of my face. “You still here?” she asks.

I blink fast. “Yeah. I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I said that I’m just hanging out too.” She looks down at the ground for a moment, and locks her eyes on mine. “I said, ‘Maybe we could hang out together?’”

I don’t say anything at first and Megan stares at me, eyebrows raised, expression hopeful, while I consider her suggestion. It’s not like I know her that much better than I did at the end of last summer, but I think back to the words I said to Sam in the park that day and feel a little bad about my response. Megan’s nice. She’s pretty. And from what I’ve learned about her over the last few months, she’s not at all vacuous. Besides, Lindsey’s incredibly cool and she likes her. I don’t know, maybe it’s time for me to find a “four of us” that exists in 2012 and not in 1995.

“Maybe,” I tell her.

Then we hear a crash in the distance, coming from the kitchen. “Uh-oh, that did not sound good. I’d better go find out what broke.” She brushes my arm again and says, “See you,” before she heads off, pushing past people, fighting her way out of the room.

As soon as she’s gone, my stomach clenches. I don’t want Megan and I don’t want another four of us. I want Anna. Here. Now. So I don’t have to wake up tomorrow morning with my chest hurting and my mind all fuzzy, or go to sleep tonight feeling sick because I can’t stop picturing that horrible look on her face the last time I saw her.

“Kathryn’s on her way.” I look up and see Brooke in front of me, her thumbs still tapping against the glass on her phone. “I think we’re going to—” She stops cold when she sees me, hand clenched at my forehead, my face turning redder by the second. “What happened?”

I need to get out of here. I need air.

“Do you want to go?” she asks, looking me square in the eyes, and I nod quickly.

Even though it’s winter, I still haven’t put the soft top back on the Jeep. I’ve been driving around a lot this way over the last month: top down, cold wind, tunes loud, heat cranked. I maneuver out of the parking space I found a few blocks from Megan’s house and drive away.

“Do you want to talk—” she begins and I cut her off with a curt, “No.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brooke’s thumbs flying across the screen, and I can only assume she’s texting Kathryn with her change of plans. I wonder if she’s got a cover story or if she’s texting her the truth: Bro’s a wreck. Need to stay.

Her attention must move from texting to music, because as I crest over the next hill, she asks, “How about Coldplay on random shuffle?” It comes out like it’s a question, but when Brooke’s in the car, I rarely get any say in the music anyway. Not that it matters. I couldn’t care less what we listen to, as long as it keeps her from feeling like the silence is uncomfortable and it’s up to her to fill the void.

“Ooh, good song,” she says, cranking up the volume. She reclines the seat back and stares up at the sky. I don’t know what it is. I just drive, listening to the lyrics.

Can anybody fly this thing?

Before my head explodes or my head starts to ring.

I can feel Brooke turning her head to look at me every once in a while, but I ignore it, keeping my eyes fixed on the road in front of me, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. Our house is only a block away now. It’s early. I’m not at all ready to go home. And this song is right. Anna and I have been living life inside a bubble.

“Mind if I keep driving around for a bit?” I ask her.

She kicks her feet up to the dashboard and reclines back even farther. “I was hoping you would. I like this view,” she says as she stares out the open roof, into the sky. Instead of taking a left turn toward our house, I take a right toward the Great Highway.

The Ocean Beach parking lot is dark and empty, and I pull into a spot facing the Pacific. I twist the key backward in the ignition, cutting the engine without killing the music. We’re quiet for a long time.

Finally, Brooke speaks. “Why are you doing this, Bennett?”

I lean back against the headrest and let out a heavy exhale. “Please don’t… Not tonight.”

Brooke twists in her seat to face me. “On a completely different timeline that no longer exists, Anna came looking for you, remember? Because she felt so strongly that you were supposed to be in her life. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

I shrug. “I thought it did, but no…apparently it doesn’t.” I haven’t looked at the page in my notebook in months, but I don’t need to. I’ve read those words from her letter so many times I’ve committed them to memory. Someday soon, we will meet. And then you will leave for good. But I think I can fix it…”

“You’re making this far more complicated than it is, Bennett.”

“It’s very complicated, Brooke.”

“No. You saw her with another guy and you freaked.”

“I think there’s a little more to it than that.”

Brooke stares at me.

I fix my eyes on the sky and comb my hands through my hair. “Look, I know what I saw. She’ll have a better life without me. Every time I go back there, I’m just keeping her away from the future she’s supposed to have.”

“But that’s not the future she wants.” Brooke tucks her hair behind her ears and leans across the console. “Besides, what’s to say she won’t do it all over again anyway? You saw her happy in two thousand five, but when she gets to two thousand eleven she could make the same decision she made last time—to go back and find you again.”

“Why, because we’re, like, destined to be together or something?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Yeah.”

“You’re just a romantic.”

“Maybe. But I’m also quite logical.” I let my head fall to the right and stare at her. “What you saw doesn’t matter because that future isn’t set in stone and you know it. Everything single decision you’ve made beyond that moment is changing what you saw.”

“Or, it’s changing nothing.”

“If you’re not part of her life, you’ll never know.” Brooke doesn’t take her eyes off me. “Go talk to her.”

I know she’s right. I went more than a month without speaking to Anna once before, and that was excruciating. I can’t believe I’m doing it by choice this time. I rest my elbows on the steering wheel and hold my head in my hands. “I will.”

“Hey,” she says, and I twist my neck to look at her. “Now.”

“I’m not going right now.”

She cranks up the heat and rubs her hands together in front of the vent. “I’ll be fine here. Come back in twenty minutes or so. I’ll wait.”

“I’m not going right now,” I repeat, this time slowly and with more emphasis on each word, because apparently she didn’t hear me the first time.

“Bennett…” she says, almost under her breath. “Anna’s stuck there waiting for you.” She gives me this sad look, like she’s upset about what happened between the two of us. But then she says, “How could—” and stops without finishing her thought. But she doesn’t have to say another word. All I have to do is look at her, and even though I’ve never seen this expression on her face before, I know exactly what she’s thinking. She’s ashamed of me. And she should be. She’s right. How could I have done that to Anna?

I need to go. Now. Besides, I’ve been missing her like crazy tonight.

Without giving myself any more time to think about it, I grab my wool coat off the backseat and pull my arms into it. Closing my eyes, I picture the one place I know I’ll find Anna completely alone.

34

The sun is barely peeking over the horizon when I arrive at the Northwestern University track. Unlike all the times I was here before, there’s just a light dusting of snow on the metal benches, and when I take my hand to brush it clean, it flutters into the wind, flying away in all directions.

I see Anna right away. She’s down on the track, speeding around the curves, her legs reaching out in long strides, her arms pumping hard by her sides. I don’t know what she’s listening to on her Discman but I can see her lips moving and that makes me smile.

She comes around the bend to the long edge of the track, facing me, but her eyes are fixed on the ground like she’s lost in thought. I don’t move, but something must get her attention, because just as she’s about to turn the next bend, she steals a glance into the bleachers.

She spots me, but it takes a few seconds for it to register. She slows her pace to jog and stops at the base of the stairs, squinting up at me like it’s totally possible that her mind is playing tricks on her. I lift my hand and wave.

Anna bolts up the stairs, taking them two at a time, but when she reaches the fourth row, she stops and doesn’t come any closer. I can tell from the look on her face I should stay where I am.

“What are you doing here?” She takes her headphones off and wraps them around the back of her neck, never taking her eyes off me. “I thought you were coming for Christmas. That’s still four days away.” Her voice sounds wobbly and not at all like hers.

“So did I. But…this couldn’t wait.”

Anna looks around the track, then back at me. She presses her lips into a thin line. “What couldn’t wait?”

“I owe you a massive apology.” I brush the snow off the bench next to me. “Do you want to sit down?”

She walks toward me but stops short. Hugging her arms to her chest, she looks down at the icy bench and shakes her head no.

“I just wanted to say how sorry I am about that day…at the hospital…I was so…I don’t know why I got so angry.”

She sighs. “I wish you’d let me explain,” she says quietly.

It’s clear from the determined look on her face that she has something important to tell me, so even though I don’t think she owes me an explanation at all, I sit quietly and let her speak.

“I didn’t mean to push you so hard to do things over. I was never trying to get you to change your rules or change…anything about who you are. That’s the last thing I’d ever want.” She plays with her fingernails as she shifts her weight from one leg to the other. “I guess I’m just…fascinated. Not just by what you can do, but by…” She looks out toward the track and covers her face with her hand. “Wow. I thought I had a few more days to get this speech down. This really isn’t coming out the way I thought it would.”

It feels strange to be this close and not touch her. I lean forward onto my thighs and smile at her. “I think it’s coming out fine.” She slides her hand down but keeps her mouth covered. Still, I can tell from her eyes that she’s smiling too.

“Go on.… You were saying something about being fascinated.” I scoot a little closer to her, but she keeps her feet planted in the snow and starts fidgeting with her headphone wires, wrapping and unwrapping the cord around her finger.

And suddenly, she stops moving and looks straight at me. “I’m in love with everything about you.”

Her words make me suck in my breath, and when I look into her eyes, I see something I haven’t noticed in a while—this look of pure understanding that reminds me why I told her my secret in the first place. That sense of wonder, how she looked at me like she couldn’t know me well enough.

I can’t take the distance any longer. I scoot over on the bench and the snow collects on my jeans. “Come here.” I pull her closer, parting my legs so she can stand in between them, and she rests her forearms on my shoulders and looks down at me.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard to do things over again. I mean, I’m glad Emma’s okay and I’ll always be grateful to you for making that happen, but…it was wrong of me to force you to do it.”

“You weren’t wrong and you certainly didn’t force me to do anything.” My fingers settle on her hips. “I was as curious as you were, and I knew what I was doing. I never should have blamed you. I was just angry.”

“At me?” she asks.

“No. At myself.”

I grip her hips a little bit tighter and let my head fall forward until it rests against her stomach. “You know what I’ve been thinking lately?”

“Hmm?” Her fingers find my hair and I close my eyes. I’ve missed the way she touches me.

“I wish I could fly.”

Her stomach rises when she laughs. “You want to fly now too?”

“No,” I clarify. “Not in addition to, instead of.”

“Why would you want to fly?”

I keep my eyes focused on the ground as my thumbs trace slow circles at her waist. “No one ever said, ‘You really shouldn’t fly’ or ‘Think of all the problems you could cause if you could fly,’ right? You cruise around, check out the view, and come back down. Great power, none of the responsibility.”

“I have a feeling you’d be bored just flying around all the time.” I’m still looking down at our feet, but I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Maybe. But I also wouldn’t have to worry about inadvertently changing the past. Or accidentally bumping into another me and sending the younger one back where he belongs.”

She combs her fingers through my hair again. “You liked it, didn’t you?” she asks. “The do-overs.”

I pull my head away so I can see her face, and her hands settle on my shoulders again. They feel good there too. She takes another small step closer.

“Yeah…I did. I liked what you said about second chances. For a while there, it almost felt like I was supposed to do it, you know? It felt…almost…right.” I shake my head. “I’d do it again. I’d go back for Emma and those kids. If I could have helped your dad, I would have.”

Anna lifts my chin up and forces me to look at her. “You did help.”

I don’t say anything.

“Is he the real reason you don’t think you should come back here anymore?”

I nod, even though he’s only part of it. “I don’t think this is right.”

“For you or for me?”

“For everyone.” I try to block out the vision of her in the driveway ten years from now, looking up at a guy who isn’t me but makes her smile the same way I do. “But, I guess, especially for you.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “You seem to think you’re somehow responsible for my future.” I start to respond but she puts her finger to my lips. “Listen to me. Please, don’t say anything. You are not responsible for my future, Bennett.”

Sure I am. It would be totally different if I’d never come here.

“It’s mine.”

Yes, and you deserve a simpler one.

“And I want you in it.”

You shouldn’t even know me.

She looks over my shoulder, staring into the distance. “I don’t know what you saw when you went forward, and I have a feeling you’re never going to tell me. And that’s fine.” Now she looks right into my eyes. “Stop coming here if you think it’s wrong for you, or for, I don’t know, the space-time continuum or something, but don’t stop because of me. From the beginning, you’ve made this all about how you were affecting my future. But I’m affecting yours, too. This time it’s your choice. What do you want?”

I say the first thing that pops into my head. “You.”

Her eyes light up. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“But it’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not.”

She brushes my hair off my forehead and plants a kiss there. “I want you to be part of my life. When you weren’t in it, I went to great lengths to get you back. So here we are.” She spreads her arms out to her sides and looks around the track. “But who’s to say what happens next? Maybe a year from now, we’ll both be off at college and we won’t want this anymore. Or after five years of this, we’ll get tired of all the distance or the uncertainty…you’ll get tired of zapping back and forth, or I’ll get tired of waiting for you, or maybe the whole thing will become too much to handle. But right now, we both want to be together. Don’t you think we should be?”

I stare at her. “I told you, it’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is.” She runs her thumb across my cheek. “In fact, let’s make it even simpler. I don’t need a calendar. I don’t care if you’re here for big events or how long you stay each time. I just need to know that you’re coming back.”

I reach up for one of her curls and wrap it around my finger, thinking about how easy this all seemed back at the beginning of the school year. I remember that day we sat on my bed, surrounded by my new posters in a room that was starting to feel a lot like home, and built a schedule. God, how cocky I was, thinking I had it all figured out and that nothing would stand in the way of us being together as long as that’s what both of us wanted.

“Will you think about it?” she asks.

I look away from her and nod.

“Don’t do that,” Anna says.

“What?”

“I can always tell when you’re lying. You don’t look at me.”

I lock my eyes on hers. “I’ll think about it,” I say. And I will.

But I know I won’t change my mind.

35

Physically, I’m here in San Francisco. But all morning I’ve been mentally absent, my thoughts constantly wandering to Christmas 1995. Ever since I saw Anna at the track, I’ve been trying to bring myself to go back there, but I just couldn’t. Now that it’s Christmas here, the whole thing feels unavoidable.

Dad reaches under the tree and makes a big production of reading the tag on the last gift. “To Brooke from Bennett,” he says, tossing it high in the air.

Brooke catches it with both hands and shakes it hard for clues. She’s already grinning as she rips off the paper, but a huge smile spreads across her face when she peeks inside. “No way.” She looks up at me and starts pulling out each of the ten “vintage” concert tees, one at a time. In case my parents are getting suspicious as they watch her, I describe how I found them online, but when Brooke looks at me, I shoot her a wink.

She hugs the Incubus 2007 World Tour T-shirt to her chest. “I love them,” she says. “Thank you.”

Mom tries to pass me this plate of sticky-looking pastries for the third time, and once again, I hold my hand up to block them. She tips her chin down and gives me her concerned parent look. I haven’t eaten much over the last few days and Mom’s starting to notice, so I grab the plainest-looking thing on the plate.

“Well, I think that’s everything,” Dad says, taking one last look around the base of the tree. He stands up, straightens his back, and transfers the fluffy ball on his Santa hat from one shoulder to the other like it’s a mortarboard tassel. “Christmas gift exchange 2012, officially complete,” he says with his hands on his hips. Brooke tosses a wrapping paper ball at him and it bounces off his forehead.

“I’m going to go buy some music,” I say, holding up my new iTunes gift card as evidence, and Brooke gives me a knowing look. She’s already agreed to cover for me if she needs to, but that doesn’t mean she’s happy about it.

I start gathering up my gifts as Mom heads for the kitchen with a handful of plates and Dad follows her carrying a trash bag filled with used wrapping paper. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brooke staring at me from the other side of the couch. As soon as I have everything, I head for the staircase. I’m at the first step when I hear her say my name, but I shake my head and keep climbing without turning around. What’s the point? She’ll just try to talk me out of this again.

When I’m showered and dressed, I dig around in the back of my closet, feeling for my backpack, and do one last round of inventory. There are water bottles, coffee shots, and Red Bulls; Kleenex and a spare T-shirt, just in case; and down on the bottom, Anna’s photo album. I pull it out and thumb through it, feeling sick when I think about giving it back to her. But I can’t keep it here.

I stuff the album back inside and toss the pack over my shoulders. There’s no reason to stall any longer, so I picture the side of Anna’s house, where the yellow paint is peeling and flaking off, and I close my eyes. But before I can leave, they spring open again.

And there it is, this ridiculously stupid thought. Not only is it stupid, it’s also risky and more than a little bit pathetic. But this is my last trip for who knows how long, and I haven’t been able to stop wondering about the guy she was with that night. And knowing who he is might give me some peace. I could use a little peace.

I squeeze my lids tight and before I can talk myself out of it, I open them to a view of a house painted gray with white trim.

After a quick look around to be sure I’m alone, I peer through the kitchen window. Inside, Mrs. Greene is in the exact spot, wearing the exact same thing, making the same meal she was making last time I showed up here in 2005 and shouldn’t have.

I’ll stay five minutes. Ten tops. Just long enough to catch a glimpse of him.

I check the driveway and find it covered in a layer of snow but otherwise empty. When I return to the window, Anna’s mom is still standing at the stove, and I watch as Mr. Greene sneaks up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist. He gives her a quick kiss on the cheek, and she smiles and squirms away, swatting his hand with her wooden spoon. He laughs and kisses her again. Then he walks over to the sink and looks out the window that faces the street, like he’s waiting for someone to arrive.

She should be here any second now. I listen to the sounds of the neighborhood, but there’s nothing. It’s totally silent.

“You need something to do.” Unlike last time, the window is open a crack and I can hear everything the two of them are saying. Mrs. Greene walks to the drawer by the refrigerator and removes some silverware. “Here,” she says, handing it to him. “Set the table. My goodness, you’re like a little kid.”

“Leave me alone, I’m excited.” He walks into the dining room and he’s out of my sight for a good minute or two. He returns empty-handed.

“Did you get the glasses, too?” she asks.

“Not yet, but I will.” He pulls four water glasses down from one of the upper cabinets, and returns for four wineglasses. “Don’t you think it’s fundamentally wrong to have to take a plane to visit your family?”

Anna’s mom laughs loudly. “Yeah, you should have thought about that when you hung a map of the world on her wall and gave her a box of pins to mark all the places she’d go.” He shrugs and carries the glasses to the table, and I watch Mrs. Greene stir whatever she’s got in the stockpot. “You should have known she’d never stay put,” she says, more to herself than to him.

I picture the map that hung on Anna’s wall, briefly wonder if it’s still there, and before I know it I’m closing my eyes and opening them in her bedroom. Her room is dark and I have to blink a few times as my eyes adjust, but then I spin slowly in place, taking everything in.

The dimensions are the same, but nothing else is. Anna’s shelves are gone, and with them, the trophies and CDs they held back in 1995. There are no more race photos or numbers, and no more travel guides peppering the surfaces of her furniture. The map is gone and so is the box of pins. All the things that mattered in Anna’s sixteen-year-old life aren’t important in her twenty-six-year-old one, at least not in this house.

The bed has been moved to a different wall and it’s covered with a different bedspread. I slowly walk over to it and sit down, running my hand across the surface, wondering if they share this room when they visit. He probably doesn’t have to sleep on the couch like I did. I bet he gets to linger here with her in the morning, not sneak out before the sun comes up. Do they unpack their clothes and hang them side by side in the closet? Does Mr. Greene pour him coffee in the morning?

Coming to this room was a bad idea.

I stand up and close my eyes, returning to my spot under the kitchen window. I wonder why it’s taking so long for them to get here.

As soon as I open them, I hear tires slowly crunching their way through the snow, so I peek around the corner and then creep over to the tree, just like I did last time.

The headlights are still a few houses away, but Mr. Greene must have heard the car too, because the front door suddenly opens and he steps out onto the porch. He heads down the front stairs and waits at the edge of the driveway, fidgeting with the buttons on his sport coat.

My pulse is racing as the front of the car comes around the hedge and two streams of light illuminate the snow-covered lawn.

I think I yell.

I feel my stomach knot up tight and my head feels like it’s going to explode. My eyes are burning, and without even thinking about it, I squeeze them shut. And when I finally peel them open, I’m standing right where I was when I left—smack in the middle of my bedroom in San Francisco.

I stumble over to the bed and sit down. I’m shaking and sweating, but when I look around and realize what just happened, I start laughing loudly and uncontrollably. It makes the headache a hell of a lot worse, but I can’t seem to stop.

I’m back.

I’m shaking and sweating and laughing and…back.

I stand up, touching my face, my legs. I stomp the Evanston snow off my feet and watch it collect on my San Francisco carpet. I turn a three-sixty in place.

I’m back.

I was knocked back.

And there’s only one reason that would happen.

Anna is part of my future and I’m part of hers. And that’s all I needed to know, even if there are a million big and little things that could go wrong between now and then.

My backpack lands on the bed with a bounce, and I rip open the zipper, down a bottle of water as quickly as I can, and then dig to the bottom. When I find Anna’s photo album, I toss it on top of my bedspread where Mom or Dad could easily find it if they happen to come in while I’m gone. There’s no reason to hide it because Anna won’t be a secret here anymore. I’ll keep most of the promises I made to my parents—no more sneaking around, no more lies—but that “no more traveling” one isn’t going to stick after all.

The Doubleshot makes me grimace as I gulp it down and I chase it with another bottle of water. I return to the center of the room and shake out my arms. My legs still feel wobbly as I close my eyes.

36

Anna’s house is the color it should be in 1995.

Without giving myself time to process any more information than that, I race around the corner, fly up the front steps, and knock hard on her front door. My mouth is still dry and my head is a little foggy. I can feel the sweat on my brow even though my shoes are covered with fresh snow. But when the door swings open and I see Anna standing there, I forget everything else.

My heart is pounding hard in my chest. “Hi,” I say, combing my fingers through my hair.

“Hi.” She steps onto the porch and pulls the door closed behind her and I take a few steps back to give her room. She stands in front of me, looking confused, like she’s trying to register the expression on my face but can’t. She wraps one arm across her body and grips her elbow.

I don’t know where to start. I have absolutely no idea what to say right now. All I can think about is that ten years from now, the two of us will be in the same car, driving back here, walking up these steps and onto this porch, together. I look at my feet because I can’t look at her and piece the right words together at the same time.

“Please say something,” Anna says, letting out a nervous laugh. “You’re killing me here.” Her voice catches.

I lock my eyes on hers. “I was wrong,” I say, and tears start sliding down her cheeks, one after the other. “I was convinced that I wasn’t supposed to be part of your future but I think now…that I am.”

Her lips are pressed tightly together and she nods quickly as she brushes her hands across her face. “Of course you are,” she says. And then she looks at me, tears still streaming down her cheeks, and smiles. That smile. My smile. It belongs to me again.

I take two steps forward and throw my arms around her neck, lacing my fingers through her curls and breathing into her hair. I feel her bury her face in my T-shirt and wrap her arms around my waist. She squeezes me so tight, pressed in as close me to me as she can get. We stand like that for a long time.

I don’t know if I was wrong. I might be wrong now. But my gut feels right for the first time in over a month and apparently I’m going with it, ignoring the risks and the questions and the consequences. Again. How can I not?

The wind is biting and when I finally step away from Anna, I discover that her cheeks are as red as the sweater she’s wearing. I kiss each one. And then I take her face in my hands.

This kiss feels completely different from all the others. It’s not like the one at the track the other day, when I was trying not to give her false hope. And it’s nothing like the one when I first came back to town, back when I was all euphoric and full of conviction, certain we could make this work regardless of the considerable odds stacked against us. I’m kissing her like I’ve just returned from a long trip and I’m deliriously happy to be back home.

I rest my forehead against hers. I can’t hold back my smile.

“What made you change your mind?” she asks.

I give her the only answer I have. “You. In a bunch of different ways.”

We kiss again, and this one feels a lot more familiar. I picture her room upstairs, looking like it’s supposed to, and I can’t wait to be alone with her there.

When Anna pulls away, she hardly leaves any distance between us. “It’s freezing out here,” she says, brushing her lips against mine. “Come inside.” Another small kiss. “Besides, you have presents to open.”

Presents. Plural. I only brought her one thing. “Presents?” I ask.

She kisses my cheek. “I got you something. My parents got you a couple things too.” I pull back a bit more. Her parents? It didn’t even occur to me to buy them gifts. “Don’t worry,” she says, reading my mind. “They don’t expect you to get them anything.”

Anna moves toward the front door and I trail behind her, but when she opens it and steps inside, I stop cold.

She turns around and stares at me. God, she looks happy and relieved and beautiful and perfect as she stands there, waiting for me to follow her. I must have a stupid grin on my face or something because she suddenly smiles at me. “What?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing. I was just thinking about the first time I came over here.” We’d both cut school. I’d stood on her porch in this exact spot, and Anna stood inside in that exact same one. When she opened the door I’d been expecting her to be afraid of me after I’d inadvertently shown her what I could do, but instead, she was all giddy and curious, eager to hear how I performed the magic that might have saved her life the night before.

But there was something else in her expression that day. She wanted to know me—really know me—and I stood frozen in place, realizing that I wanted her to be the person I told all my secrets to.

I knew it wouldn’t be simple. That if I walked through that front door and into her world, both of our lives would be changed forever. Still, she seemed worth the risk. Now I know that she is.

So just like I did that day, I take a deep breath and step inside. Anna closes the door behind me.

I’m not supposed to be here.

But I am.