Page 104 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
I do my best to explain everything that’s been going through my head, but I’m making a muddle of it. Avery keeps nodding as if I’m making perfect sense, even though I know I’m not, bless her.
“What do you think I should do?” I ask.
“Well, itistricky,” she says, “but…”
I wait for her to finish the sentence.
She doesn’t.
That night, I find myself thinking about Dave. About what our actual relationship was like, not the end. For so long, I tried not to think about it because it was too painful—and now it’s painful in a different way.
Sure, Dave wasn’t like Joe. He wouldn’t do things like, say,forget my birthday, and he did know how to do basic chores. But there were little digs.
Why are you wearingthat?
Upon reflection, I don’t think I performed femininity quite in the way he wanted. I’d forgotten all about it, but now, a dozen examples come to me.
Was that part of why he broke up with me? I’m not sure.
Memory is, indeed, a strange thing.
For the next couple of days, I lose myself in my routine.
I wake up at the same time every day. Have coffee. Eat breakfast. Avery and I have figured out how to coordinate our mornings by now, so we don’t get in each other’s way.
Then I go to the office. Check my email. Do my work. Wish I could swear at Lee again. Get annoyed at Tyler but seethe in silence.
At five thirty or so, I take the TTC home. Eat a quick dinner. Clean up. Watch TV while Avery looks for apartments.
My days aren’t identical—there are slightly different tasks at work, for example—but I lose myself in the familiarity of them, which is, ironically enough, something I couldn’t do when I was literally reliving the same day.
I wonder what I should do about Cam, but I’m unable to think about it too much without my heart aching, so I don’t. It’s like I’m putting my head in the sand once more, despite the resolution I made for the Lunar New Year.
I recall what he told me on the weekend.Sometimes, when I’m with you, I have the feeling that I’ve done this before, in a previous life or something.
I replay that in my mind, wondering if there’s a way to retrieve those memories. Then I remind myself that I neverfigured out why the hell I got stuck in the loop—other than that it had something to do with the dumplings—and I have no idea how I got out of it. How on earth could I figure out how to unlock those memories?
At the same time, I wish I could unlock my memories of the seven months when the world kept moving without me, memories created by a different version of me. I make the occasional mistake or weird comment at work that I wouldn’t make if only I could remember those damn months.
I don’t know what kind of amnesia this is, but I hate it.
40Cam
On Thursday, we’re organizing some things in the back when Justin starts singing “Drunken Sailor,” clearly expecting me to join in, as I always do.
Darrell, of course, isn’t expected to sing. However, maybe if he’d sing right now, there would be less attention on the fact that I’m not.
Justin moves on to “The Last Saskatchewan Pirate,” a blatant attempt to lift my spirits. I crack the tiniest of smiles, but that’s it.
“Okay, time out.” He uses his hands to make a T.
I roll my eyes and stand still, hands on hips, by Tank 2.
“What happened, man?” he asks. “You were in a good mood—agreatmood, I might say—when I got home on Sunday, and everything seemed fine on Monday…”
Darrell looks at me in concern, and the fact that he’s actually stopped doing the task at hand speaks volumes.
I pinch my brow. “Something’s up with Noelle, but I don’t know what.”
