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I open my eyes and see him taking in what I’m saying. I think I’m confirming something he’s always suspected.
“You really don’t know what it’s like for us, do you?” I say.
“No,” he answers quietly. “I don’t.”
He asks me about a few of the other things that happened yesterday—talking to Rebecca, the climbing, the dinner conversation with my parents. I tell him the only one that’s vivid to me is the climbing. I do feel something when I think of that—that sense of breathing in, of freedom. Is this emotion or is this actual physical sensation that I’m remembering? We can’t decide.
“It’s interesting,” I admit. “Really twisted and weird and crazy—but also interesting.”
“You are extraordinary for understanding, and for being willing to be with me even after I…was where I was.”
“It’s not your fault. I know.”
“Thank you.”
It’s hard to believe that I thought I could stay away from him. It’s hard to believe I thought I could run away from this. Because it feels so comfortable right now.
“Thank you for not messing up my life,” I say. “And for keeping my clothes on. Unless, of course, you don’t want me to remember that you sneaked a peek.”
“No peeks were sneaked.”
“I believe you. Amazingly, I believe you about everything.”
And because I believe him, I also want him to tell me more about what it was like for him—what he saw when he was me. But it also feels like a raging-ego thing to ask. What kind of girl asks for a second opinion about her own life?
A senses me holding back. Of course.
“What?” he asks.
I decide to go for it.
“It’s just—do you feel you know me more now? Because the weird thing is…I feel I know you more. Because of what you did, and what you didn’t do. Isn’t that strange? I would have thought that you would’ve found out more about me…but I’m not sure that’s true.”
“I got to meet your parents,” he says.
Oh boy. “And what was your impression?”
“I think they both care about you, in their own way.”
I laugh. “Well said.”
“Well, it was nice to meet them.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that when you really meet them. ‘Mom and Dad, this is A. You think you’re meeting him for the first time, but actually, you’ve met him before, when he was in my body.’?”
“I’m sure that’ll go over well.”
And the stupid thing is: I’m sure they would love him. If only I could freeze him as he is, and take him home to Mom and Dad, they’d be thrilled.
But I can’t tell him that. It would be unfair of me to tell him that. So I ask him something else. Just to be sure.
“It can never happen again, right?” I say. “You’re never the same person twice.”
He nods. “Correct. It will never happen again.”
“No offense, but I’m relieved I don’t have to go to sleep wondering if I’m going to wake up with you in control. Once, I guess I can deal with. But don’t make a habit of it.”
“I promise—I want to make a habit of being with you, but not that way.”
