Page 17 of Parallel
My God. What if it’s really Nick, my Nick, who walks in here tomorrow? What if he’s twice my age now? What if it isn’t him atall?
I find each of those possibilities equallyterrifying.
* * *
Jeff has already leftfor work by the time I wake the next day, and that’s probably for the best, given that I’ve spent another night dreaming about Nick, andLondon.
Today I wake knowing it costs six pounds to take the Underground to Kensington. I know how to convert currency. I know that Covent Garden isn’t a garden at all but an outdoor mall, and thatpantsover there actually meansunderwear. And it’s different than things you’d learn from a book, or a show. I know these things, not as if I saw them, but as if I livedthem.
I climb from the bed and grab the wedding binder out of my bag. I draw the shops at Covent Garden. I draw a rough map tracing the streets I would take to get to the Underground. The walk to University College. Then, grabbing my phone and ignoring the wealth of angry texts from Dee—who was expecting me back at work yesterday—I go online and type inHarley Street,Marylebone.
Before me a map appears, precisely matching myown.
I hit the button to see a photo of the street view and there, on the phone screen, is the exterior I drew a few days ago—Nick’s flat, white stucco and brown brick. An arched portico, double doors. I even got the bushes in frontright.
I slam the sketchbook shut, feeling like I’m going to be sick.This isn’t possible, this isn’t possible. I’m seeing things, or this is some kind of extended dream.I open my eyes and the photo is still there on my phone, assuring me ithappened.
There’s a light tap on the door, and Caroline walks in carrying a big bag in her left hand. “Hey, sicko,” she says, oblivious to my freak-out. “You scared the piss out of everyoneyesterday.”
I force a smile. “Sorry. I hear I wasn’t such a fun travel companion on the wayhome.”
“No worries. The stories I’ll have after your bachelorette will make up for everything, especially since I told Trevor to move ahead with hiring theprostitutes.”
I laugh weakly and she swings the bag she’s carrying onto the bed. “I knew you’d be too freaked out about Dee’s wrath to go home to change, so I brought you toiletries and clothes.” She reaches inside it and hands me a smaller bag from Blue Mercury. “Plus a few othernecessities.”
I peek inside: Bobbi Brown eyeliner, mascara, and gloss. “I love you somuch.”
“More thanJeff?”
“Obviously. All he’s ever given me was this dumb ring.” I smile as I say it, but Caroline’s known me way too long not to pick up when something’samiss.
“What’s up?” she asks. “I mean, aside from the fact that there’s obviously something wrong with your brain, thatis.”
I bite my lip. I’ve had a long history of hiding my strangeness from people, even her. I know all too well it’s something even those who love me most are unable to accept. But I can’t keep dealing with this on my own. Sighing, I hand her thesketchpad.
“Look,” Iwhisper.
Her brow furrows. “Uh…it’s a nice drawing? But you’ve always been amazing at drawingbuildings.”
“It’s London. Harley Street, in Marylebone. I keep dreaming about it, but I’ve never even been there. And you know what? Covent Garden. I thought it was an actual garden, but it’s not. It’s, like, an outdoormall.”
“Everyone knows it’s amall.”
“I didn’t. But now I know every store…” I trail off, frustrated by the impossibility of all this. Tears fill my eyes. “I know how to convert the currency. I know how to take their subway from Marylebone to Kensington. I’m seeing my life as if my father never died and it went on as I’d planned it. I’m in London, getting my master’s in architecture. I don’t remember my classes but I even wake remembering things I learned inthem.”
She sets the drawings aside and leans back in her chair. “You probably saw this stuff on the Travel Channel. God only knows how much knowledge we’ve all got stored in ourbrains.”
“That’s not all, though.” My throat tightens. What remains is, by far, the worst part. The part I’m not sure I should say aloud, even to my best friend. “There’s aguy.”
Her eyes light up. “Nowit’s getting interesting. Whatguy?”
“Nick. He’s a resident there, going into cardiology. We’re married. And insanely in love. I can’t even describe it. I had dreams about him when I was little, and they started up again after I passed out last week. But they’re not like dreams. It’s more like I’m living it all for the first time. I wake up and my brain is full of what I didn’t know the day before.” I don’t tell her my doctor here may be the same guy. I think I’m scared to say it aloud, worried I’ll jinxit.
She frowns. “Look, I don’t want you to accuse me of being down on Jeff, because that’s really not what this is, but… it kind of sounds like you invented the guy who represents how youwantto feel. He’s not real but maybe it’s your subconscious’ way of suggesting you thinktwice.”
I shake my head vehemently. “But it’snothow I want to feel. At all. I just need it tostop.”
Her eyes go wide. “Why the hell wouldn’t you want to feel like that? Everyone wants to feel what you’redescribing.”