Page 93 of The Déjà Glitch

Jack pulled to the curb at the airport and put the car in park. Rex stood up on the back seat, always alert and ready to jump out the door when he sensed a stop in motion. Except he wasn’t the one who’d be getting out of the back seat. The other much taller, much more human passenger was preparing to depart.

Gemma considered jamming her finger into the child-safety button that kept the back doors from unlocking at all, but she knew Patrick had a plane to catch.

Jack opened his door first, risking his life to step out into the unloading zone at LAX’s international terminal. Patrick was flying over to London, for real, then hanging aright down to Nigeria. The airport was as chaotic and frantic as ever on a Sunday morning in honor of his departure.

A light hangover still throbbed in Gemma’s temples from all the wine she’d had at Patrick’s farewell dinner the night before. Their father had hosted, and Jack came along to meet him. Jack had in fact met her entire family in the span of two weeks thanks to Patrick being in town and them needing to squeeze half a year’s worth of visits into the same fortnight that happened to overlap with her falling madly in love with the new man in her life. Her mother had come up for a few days during the first week, and Jack had gone to lunch with them. Patrick had of course been in the thick of it all each day, hanging out at her apartment while she was at work and spending most every afternoon and evening with her. She wouldn’t let him get a hotel, but she had spent a few nights at Jack’s house to give him some space. The whole lot of them, plus Lila and Raul the TSA agent, who she’d apparently been DMing since that day at the airport, had gone out one night at Lila’s insistence and gotten roaring drunk and sung karaoke. Gemma had learned that Jack had an amazing voice. Which, of course he did.

She’d learned that he had other amazing abilities as well on those nights she’d spent at his house.

Ever since the loop broke, she’d spent every day wrapped up in a delirium of new and exciting things and people she loved. Her heart had been brimming so full, she’d been able to stave off the impending crush she’d feel over her brother leaving. Though she had on purpose stored a little bit of the overflowing happiness to soothe her aches later.

“Yes, you’re a good boy. Rex is a good boy,” Patrick cooedfrom the back seat. Gemma heard Rex’s tail excitedly thumping against the leather seat. “You take good care of my sister, okay?” Rex’s collar jangled and Patrick’s voice grew muffled as he leaned in to hug him.

Gemma heard the back of the SUV pop open where Jack had gone around to retrieve Patrick’s luggage, and things were suddenly moving too quickly for her.

Her throat tightened with emotion. She’d promised Patrick she wouldn’t cry, and she’d borrowed an enormous pair of face-shielding sunglasses from Lila in case she couldn’t keep her promise and had to hide it.

Patrick reached over her seat and squeezed her shoulder. “All right, Gem?” He said it with a note of worry in his voice, both asking if she was okay and reminding her it was time to go.

She swallowed a fiery lump and nodded without turning around. “Yeah. Yes.”

Patrick opened his door and unfolded himself onto the curb. Gemma pressed the button to lower his window so that Rex could stick his head out when he closed the door. She stayed in the car trying to gather herself.

Jack rolled over Patrick’s suitcase and parked it at his feet. How her brother managed to move across the world with a suitcase and a backpack, she couldn’t figure, though Patrick had always been a man of limited needs. A tee shirt, jeans, and a notebook, and he was happy. She’d forced a new phone upon him with a ridiculously overpriced data and messaging plan that she was footing the bill for, with strict instruction to keep in more frequent contact. But she knew, deep in her heart, that just as Jack had said, no matter the distance, Patrick would always answer when she called.

She lowered her own window but didn’t chance getting out to say goodbye. She feared she would become a puddle and ruin it for everyone.

“It’s been great meeting you, Patrick,” Jack said, and held out his hand. “Good luck getting everything set up over there.”

Exactly as Gemma had known they would, they got along like old friends.

Patrick, never shy with his affection, pushed Jack’s hand away and pulled him into a hug.

The sight made the lump in Gemma’s throat tighter.

“It’s been real, dude,” Patrick said, and slapped him on the back. “I’m glad Gemma met you.”

Patrick had laughed until beer nearly squirted out his nose when they shared the story of Nigel Black threatening Jack. Gemma didn’t know what private conversations her brother might have had with her boyfriend in her absence, but there were no parting sidewalk reminders of how he should treat his sister in that moment. She assumed he’d either already told him, trusted that Nigel had scared him straight, or perhaps trusted that Jack was a great guy and Gemma could take care of herself. Or maybe a combination of all three.

Rex poked his head out the window and gave a whimper.

Patrick turned to give him another scratch on the ears. “Oh, Rexy, I’ll miss you too. Be a good boy.”

That only left Gemma, and she wasn’t sure she could actually do it. In all the times she’d said goodbye before, she’d felt like she was shipping him off with a return-to-sender label; he always came back to her. This time, he was leaving on a one-way ticket.

Patrick stepped sideways to expectantly stand outside her door. She couldn’t see his face because he was so tall. He held out his hands, and she stared at the faded image on his shirt of a band she hadn’t listened to since high school. “Well?” he said.

Gemma could feel hot tears welling up her throat, ready to fall, and she knew he was going to chastise her for it. Staying in the car would have been safer, but she couldn’t stand the thought of not hugging him goodbye.

Before she changed her mind, she shoved open the door and threw herself at him. She instantly burst into tears.

Patrick wrapped his arms around her with a laugh. She heard it rumbling in his bony chest where she pressed her ear. He always reminded her of a giraffe: a head taller than everyone and long-limbed. She squeezed him hard enough to make him gasp.

“Gemma, come on! You promised you wouldn’t cry.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry,” she said, and wiped her eyes. The giant sunglasses were pointless, so she took them off. She looked up at him and reeled all over again at the sharpened features of his face. His jaw was stronger, his eyes wiser. He even had tiny crow’s feet at their corners from squinting in the Nigerian sun. Every time she saw him after a half year, manhood seemed to have taken a chisel to the boy he once was. He was a full-fledged adult, she knew that, but he’d always be her little brother. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

He let out a heavy breath. She’d had the same breakdown the night before, thanks in part to all the wine at their dad’s house, and Patrick had been drunk enough to cry with her. They’d walked up the street back to Jack’s house,and Jack let Patrick crash in his guest room. Now, on the sidewalk in public, Patrick tried to put on a brave face, but she heard his breath stutter in his chest.