Page 110 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
After work, she decided to go to a new food hall downtown for dinner. There are several permanent vendors, plus a rotating selection of guest vendors each weekend. The dumpling stand is one of the latter. She knows it’s the same one because it has the same handwritten sign, even though the woman working there is younger. Her name is Judith, and apparently, the older woman was her mother, who has since passed away. Judith has agreed to speak to us—I’m not sure what Avery told her—once she closes up at 9 p.m.
Since I don’t have to leave quite yet, I decide to finish the episode I’m on, but I’m distracted, and I have to pause and rewind twice because I miss something important.
Then, even though it’s a little early, I head out.
The food hall is nothing like the mall food courts of yore, where you might eat frozen yogurt or fries during a break in your shopping trip. No, it’s much swankier. Many of the seats look like fancy picnic tables, with polished wood tops and benches. Near the entrance, some men dig into delicious-smelling noodles and curries.
It takes me a minute to find Avery. She’s seated in acorner, nursing a bubble tea, which is now mostly ice and tapioca pearls.
“Does this place close at nine?” I ask. “Will we have to leave in a couple of minutes?”
Avery shakes her head. “No, some of the vendors are open until eleven, so we can stay.”
I get my own bubble tea and sit across from her. Though it’s not quiet in here, I swear I can hear the beating of my own heart. I’ve wanted answers for months, and now I’ll get them… maybe?
Avery and I don’t talk much at first. I suspect she’s also deep in thought about what we’re going to find out, what it all means. Then I remember that I didn’t tell her about my day.
“Lunch with my sister went well,” I say.
She perks up. “Madison believed your story?”
“She did, and she caught me up on some of the stuff I don’t remember.”
Avery reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I’m glad it worked out.”
We lapse into silence again, and I glance around at the clientele. There are a few businesspeople who look like they just left the office. A group of women in their thirties, dressed a little nicer than I am, a couple of them with cocktails in their hands. A middle-aged couple.
My gaze then wanders to the businesses. The ones with permanent storefronts sell things like Thai street food, Korean hot dogs, shawarma, and fried chicken. Next, my eyes land on the small cart in the corner. Like at the night market, I don’t see a clear sign. A young couple is ordering, and as soon as they walk away, I look back at Avery, not wanting anyone to catch me staring.
But a few minutes later, I venture another look, and I seea woman in an apron. As Avery said, she’s definitely not the woman who served us dumplings on June 20.
I return my attention to my bubble tea and phone, scrolling through social media without really seeing anything. Wondering if what I’m about to learn will make it easier to tell Cam, easier for him to believe me.
Shit! Cam! I was supposed to call him.
ME: I’m so sorry. Something came up. I can’t talk tonight, but I’ll see you on Sunday? Your place?
CAM: Sounds good. Want to come over around 2?
ME: That works
Eventually, the woman from the dumpling stand approaches us.
“Come with me,” she says by way of greeting. “Too loud here. I will show you where it’s quieter.” She waits for us to get up, and we follow her behind a pillar, where there’s a small table with three chairs. She’s right: it’s quieter here. Better for a conversation.
I don’t know where to start, especially since I’m not sure what Avery told her, but I introduce myself. “I’m Noelle.”
“Judith.” She nods, businesslike. “I don’t understand why you want to talk to me. If you had some problems with the dumplings last year, I apologize. My mother… she was old, operating this business without a license, and I didn’t even know about it until months later. She was living with my brother—why did it take so long for him to notice?”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say, feeling a little awkward. Such insufficient words for the death of a parent.
Judith nods briskly again.
“The dumplings were very good,” Avery says. “We didn’t getfood poisoning, don’t worry, but after we ate them, something strange happened to both of us. We started reliving June twentieth over and over.”
Judith doesn’t nod this time. No, she’s very, very still. While there’s an expression of surprise on her face, she doesn’t seem nearly as surprised as she ought to be.
This, I think, is a good sign for us getting some kind of answer.
