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First thing Thursday morning, I write.
I want to see you, but I’m not sure if we should do that. I want to hear about what’s going on, but I’m afraid that will only start everything again. I love you—I do—but I am afraid of making that love too important. Because you’re always going to leave me, A. We can’t deny it. You’re always going to leave.
R
—
All through the day, there’s no response. And I think, fine, I deserve that.
But it’s still disappointing.
—
Then, Friday at lunch, a response.
I understand. Can we please meet at the bookstore this afternoon, after school?
A
To which I say:
Of course.
R
—
I’m nervous as I drive over. Everything’s changed, and nothing’s changed. This is going to be hard, but it feels so easy. Mostly, I want to see him. Talk to him. Have him be in my life.
All the other obstacles have fallen away. I am even starting to believe, deep in my heart, that if I told my friends the truth, if they met A the way I met A, on multiple days, they would believe it, too.
The only obstacle, really, is his life.
Which I know is too big an obstacle. But in the rush to see him, it doesn’t seem as big as maybe it should.
I get there first. I scan the café and know that none of these people could be him. If he were here, he’d be looking for me. He’d know when I arrived.
So I sit down. I wait. And the minute he walks throu
gh the door, I know. Like there’s a shiver of lightning between us. Today he’s this thin Asian guy wearing a blue T-shirt with Cookie Monster on it. When A sees me, his smile is wider than Cookie Monster’s.
“Hey,” he says.
And this time I say it back gladly. “Hey.”
So here we are. I’m trying to remind myself to not fall back into it, to not start thinking it’s possible. But with him right here, that’s hard.
“I have an idea,” he says.
“What?”
He smiles again. “Let’s pretend this is the first time we’ve ever met. Let’s pretend you were here to get a book, and I happened to bump into you. We struck up a conversation. I like you. You like me. Now we’re sitting down to coffee. It feels right. You don’t know that I switch bodies every day. I don’t know about your ex or anything else. We’re just two people meeting for the first time.”
The lie we want to believe. That feels dangerous.
“But why?” I ask.
“So we don’t have to talk about everything else. So we can just be with each other. Enjoy it.”
