Page 29 of The Backtrack
Damon frowned. He quickly straightened and brought Sam up with him. His hand held her just long enough so she could gather her footing. And once she did, Damon released her. “My dad must’ve invited her,” he said.
Sam smoothed a hand down her dress and thought about that. Damon hadn’t invited his own girlfriend to the barbecue? Still, he moved toward Marissa.
Pearl came next to Sam as Marissa kissed Damon on the cheek.
“So that’s the girlfriend?” Pearl asked with all the subtlety of a shark in a paddling pool.
“Yeah.” Sam tried not to sound too put out but she was. “She’s a doctor and her hair smells the way heaven should.”
“She’s cute, but she’s no you,” Pearl said.
Sam finally exhaled at the realization that Pearl, at least, was in her corner.
“Not to change the subject, but you’ve got swamp pits, like I said you would.”
Sam’s attention shifted from Damon to her dress, as she looked down at the sweat stains blooming under her arms. But Pearl turned on her heel and headed straight for the table with the margarita machine.
Sam crossed her arms to hide the evidence, and watched as Marissa took her place next to Damon.
11
Back at Grandma Pearl’s, Sam washed dishes. She’d changed into cotton shorts and a sweatshirt. Her sleeves were rolled up and she let the scalding water burn her hands as she scrubbed away at a pan. There was an ever-present fine layer of sand on the floor that Pearl brought in from her daily beach walks, and Sam’s toes scrunched against the grainy feel of it. She thought going to the Rocha barbecue would be something to distract her, but now all she could do was relive the feel of Damon while he held her steady and they danced. There had only been her and him. The two of them reliving part of their past together. But then Marissa had shown up.
When she glanced out the window, there was a happy young couple holding hands and watching the sunset on the beach. The noise that rose from her throat wasn’t a growl exactly, more of a harrumph. She tossed the wet sponge into the sink and pressed her palms into the counter. Her fingers twitched with nervous energy, like she could run a marathon if asked.
Within the span of a few days, she’d gone from thinking love would happen to her someday, to seeing a past where she was deeply in love. And now she was worried she’d passed up her one chance at happiness. Seeing two people just easily being with each other, the way Alt-Sam and Damon were, was turning her into Scrooge McAnti-Love, set to bah-humbug at anyone and anything that looked happy.
She was deeply in her feels, the way she’d been in high school whenever she’d turn on Dashboard Confessional.
It was then that Sam realized that she needed to talk to someone. Instead of wallowing over whether or not she’d made the right decisions in life, she needed a rational outsider. Not her grandma, who already had a broken wrist and didn’t need a heart attack on top of it. Not Damon, for obvious reasons. So that really only left Rachel.
Rachel, who believed Sam was sipping cocktails while topless on a beach. Rachel, who had no idea that Sam was in her hometown and having some kind of out-of-body experience that was making her question her life choices.
But Rachel was, at her core, a rational person. Part of what made her a great pilot, really. Sam could call and Rachel would tell her what to do about this very bizarre situation.
The sun had just begun to dip low in the sky, and Grandma Pearl was busy watching a reality show about people who made moonshine, which gave Sam the opportunity to talk without Pearl overhearing. She went to her room, sat in her swivel desk chair and took a deep breath as she placed the FaceTime call. When Rachel answered, she wore her pilot uniform and, judging by the gelato in her hand, was in Rome.
“I’m surprised you picked up,” Sam said, relieved. It would be one in the morning in Rome, and their international flights usually left by midnight. “Flight delay?”
“Please, please, please tell me exciting vacation stories while I wait for the crew to fix a passenger’s screen. Thank the gods the airport lounge is open and still has food.” Rachel took a bite of her pistachio gelato, then squinted at the phone. “Where are you? The lighting is tripping me out.”
The lava lamp on Sam’s desk was the only light she’d left on in the room. And because the thing was ancient, when she’d plugged it in, the pieces floated around like sad lumps; Sam was lit like a human blueberry in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.
“That’s the thing I didn’t really tell you,” Sam started. Then she panned her phone around her childhood bedroom and confessed that she wasn’t on vacation at all.
“Sort of a weird thing to lie about,” Rachel said. “But youdoavoid talking about your family anytime I ask, so I’m not entirely shocked.”
“There’s more,” Sam added. “I’m a little worried I might actually be experiencing a psychotic break or something.”
“My family does that to me, too.”
“No, it’s not a joke—” Sam propped her phone against a stack ofSeventeenmagazines, then picked up her CD player. She told Rachel about the first time she’d put the headphones on, and the visions and Damon. Then showed that the batteries were removed, but the Walkman still somehow worked. And how each time she listened to a song she saw a new and different version of what her life could’ve been.
Rachel remained silent. Her face cycled through a series of emotions that were hard to identify but mostly bordered on concern.
“I know this sounds completely bizarre,” Sam said.
“You’re telling me you have a magic CD player that transports you to another life.”
