Page 86 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
“Sure thing,” Cam says.
I pour the tea, stir with the spoon, and inhale, my hands cupped around the glass.
I already feel better.
My first sip warms me on the way down, and it does indeed taste faintly of blueberry, with a nice bite thanks to the alcohol. There’s nothing quite like a hot drink on a chilly day, and it’s a small pleasure I didn’t get to enjoy when I was trapped in June. While I’m regularly overwhelmed now, I also find myself appreciating things I never thought much about before.
“Just what I needed, thank you.” I smile at Cam slightly longer than I’d usually smile at a server, then wonder if that was weird and duck my head.
What do I want to accomplish tonight?
I guess I’m still hoping that, unlike last time, he’ll give me his number when he hands me the bill, so that we can interact in a scenario where I’m not the customer.
“Have you had this place long?” I ask.
“Six years,” he says.
It’s awkward to make conversation when I know him—and he barely knows me—and unlike before, he’s actually going to remember this tomorrow.
Oh god. This is too much for my poor brain.
I consider downing my blueberry tea in a hurry, throwing some cash on the bar, and leaving. Then I remember the pie that I foolishly ordered because I didn’t want to have instant noodles tonight.
It would be so much easier if I didn’t know him from the loop, but then I wouldn’t have the memories of him slipping me his number to encourage me. Plus, if it weren’t for the time loop, I wouldn’t be reconsidering my decision to swear off relationships, yet now, I’m feeling a need for human connection that I didn’t have before.
You changed me, I think, while looking at Cam sliding a beer across the bar to a customer.You changed me, but you don’t remember.
My phone buzzes. Veronica has texted me back. I’m about to ask if she wants to grab lunch sometime, when a small meat pie and a serving of kettle chips are set down in front of me.
“Thank you,” I say.
I cut into my steaming pie, then wait a few minutes for it to cool so I don’t burn myself. Once I try it, I decide it was indeeda very good idea that I came here tonight rather than going straight home.
“How is it?” Cam asks.
“Delicious,” I say.
Now,thereis the dimple I’d missed. It warms my chest as much as the blueberry tea.
“You want another?” he asks, gesturing to my empty glass.
I shake my head. “Gotta work tomorrow.”
And if I drink more, I might reminisce about all the times you kissed me.
He greets three new customers, who spend a long time debating what to order. I finish my pie and watch them out of the corner of my eye, thinking about the fact that Cam is everything I’m not. Outgoing, friendly, relaxed.
I also wonder about the group he’s serving. What sort of person goes to a brewery on a chilly Thursday evening, other than a woman with a crush on the brewery owner? How do they know each other?
Surreptitiously, I glance at the other people in the room; it’s still rather exciting to see unfamiliar customers here. A man and a woman in the corner are holding hands under the table. Their heads are bent close together, and he’s listening intently to whatever she’s saying. How long have they been together? It looks like they’re a few years older than me. Do they have kids? Did they get a babysitter for date night?
I was always more of an observer than a participator. Even in my own life, I felt like a side character. In elementary school, I’d sometimes spend recess watching other kids play rather than playing myself. I was a diligent student, but not the kind who sat in the front row and stuck her hand in the air to answer as many questions as she could. No, I preferred the back corner.
I did have a few friends, and as I got older, I found myselfcraving romantic love too. But I wondered if it wasn’t for me—complicated, messy, scary. It sounded like something for other people, although my parents’ stable marriage gave me some hope.
Then I met Dave, and the end was exactly what I’d feared—at least, in terms of what it did to my emotions. To him, the breakup was probably pretty simple.
After that, I put myself on autopilot. I went through the motions to give myself financial security, a sense of productivity, without really thinking about what I desired. In retrospect, it’s amazing how I could just forget to think about who I was and what I wanted for so long. I guess I was afraid of disappointment if something didn’t work out.
