Page 54 of Twice
Yaya flipped the page. “Now. You see that fellow?”
It was a fraying photo of Yaya at the beach as a young woman, standing next to a dark-haired man with a barrel chest and squat, muscular legs. He looked to be about her age.
“Who is he?”
“George. From the Seminole reservation. That’s the only picture I have of him.”
“A friend?”
She shook her head wistfully. “More.”
“More?”
“He loved me a lot.”
I chuckled. “Well, not more than Grandpa.”
“More than anyone,” she corrected. “He wanted to marry me.”
“How did you feel about him?”
She closed the book. She covered her eyes.
“What’s the matter, Yaya?”
Her chin dropped. I thought maybe she’d fallen asleep.
“Alfie!” she suddenly said, her eyes springing open. “You have to know this!”
“What, Yaya?”
“Love is different. If you change your mind, if you jump back and start seeing someone else, your first love will never love you again.”
“What are you—”
“It’s the only thing you can’t do twice!”
“I don’t understand.”
She tapped the photo several times.
“George. We gotinvolved, you see? It was wonderful. True love. But my parents wouldn’t allow it because he was different. So, I went back. I undid things. I started seeing your grandfather. I gave my love to him. But it wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel as strong. So one night, I snuck out to see George again.”
“And what happened?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“It was gone. The way he felt. The way he looked at me. I was just another person to him. I tried so many times. So many jumps. It never worked. What we’d had was erased.”
I handed her a tissue. She wiped her cheeks.
“This woman. Gianna. Is it true love?”
“I think it is.”
“Then I’m worried, Alfie.”
“About what?”
