Page 55 of Parallel
His smile grows slightly wistful. He rubs a hand along the back of his neck. “Minetoo.”
The waitress refills our coffee, and he stirs cream in his until it’s the lightest beige. Almost the color of his skin right now, with that tan of his. Before I can stop myself I think about that skin, which I saw a great deal of this morning. His smooth back, his broad shoulders.Stop, Quinn. Those thoughts can only cause trouble. I focus on my own coffee instead. “Do you think Rose could help with Darcy if she really can do what she says she can? Like go back in time and changesomething?”
He sets his spoon on the saucer and looks at me, thinking. “Darcy had headaches for months last summer, and her pediatrician blew it off. I suppose she could warn Christy about the tumor somehow, but what would compel her to believe a teenage girl’s advice instead of apediatrician’s?”
I laugh. “Rose is a lot more duplicitous than either of us. She can probably figure somethingout.”
“That kid,” groans Nick. “The only thing worse than having an out-of-control delinquent teenage daughter would be having one who is capable of timetravel.”
“And lands everywherenaked.”
“Andaspires to party with an army of rock stars,” he adds, shaking his head. “Anyway, speaking of our troubled new friend, I was trying to come up with questions for her since we might not have muchtime.”
I nod. “We should ask if there’s someone else we can talk to,” I tell him. “Maybe her grandmother or someone who’s been at it longer would have ideas forus.”
He leans back in the booth. “I think we should also ask if there’s a way she can go back and reset things somehow. If she could keep you away from the lake, maybe you’d never have had these flashbacks atall.”
I feel a sudden urge to smile and cry at the same time. “If I didn’t have these flashbacks, I wouldn’t have metyou.”
He glances away. “I thought that’s what youwanted.”
“No, I…” Heat creeps into my face. It would be better if we hadn’t met. I just can’t bring myself to wish for it. “It’s almost seven. I’d better get in there with theclothes.”
I slide from the booth, before he can see my face, and head to the bathroom, my mind a whirlwind of things that aren’t related in any way to my brain tumor, or the fact that time traveling exists, much less that I might be capable of it. With everything that has happened in the last twelve hours, the most terrifying revelation of all is this: I wouldn’t want to change anything that’s happened if it meant never meetingNick.
In the bathroom, I lean against the sink and wait for a pair of bare feet to materialize at the bottom of the bathroom stall. How does she do this? How does she land in a bathroom stall without discovering it’s occupied? What does she do when there’s not someone waiting outside with clothes in her size? If I was capable of time travel, I think I’d avoid it just because it seems so fraught withdifficulty.
At 7:00, I watch expectantly. At 7:01, I shrug—just because she can time travel doesn’t mean she’s punctual. At 7:05, I start to worry. That’s when I finally open the bathroom door and find hernote.
I’m so sorry. I really can’t help you anymore. Good luck—Rose
25
NICK
Quinn and I are both quiet on the way home. She gazes out the window with unseeing eyes. Her hopelessness destroysme.
“Hey,” I say, reaching out to grab her hand, “don’t give up,okay?”
She forces a smile. “It seems unlikely to me that we will meet asecondtime traveler to answer all ourquestions.”
“There are lots of other possibilities. You’re seeing Dr. Patel on Friday. Don’t give up on regular medicine justyet.”
She sighs. “This is obviously not a standard tumor. Can an oncologist evenhelp?”
I’ve tried to avoid thinking about it, because I can’t stand where my head goes. Right now, I just need to believe in something, and so does she. “We have no idea until wetry.”
She’s quiet for a moment, staring out the window. “Why did you decide to do your residency in London?” she askssuddenly.
The question surprises me, mostly because I really have no answer to it. “I have no idea, to be honest. It just hit me when I was in high school, and I never seriously considered anything else.Why?”
She runs her thumb over her lower lip. “I had a dream about it last night. We were teenagers, and in my dream, I was the one who wanted London, not you. It’s just strange you wound up thereanyway.”
She points to a street and I turn, pulling up in front of a small house that’s seen better days. In a neighborhood that’s seen better days as well. I hate the idea of leaving her herealone.
“How much longer is Jeff out of town?” Iask.
Her lips press together. “Just until Thursdaynight.”