Because he’s holding his breath.
AFTER
January
I can’t breathe.
Are you following me?
Zach’s—the real Zach’s—words hang in the air betweenus.
“No. Yes. Maybe.” My words tangle together.
“I was pretty sure it was you yesterday,” Zach says, arms folded over his chest.Oh crap. Theydidsee me.“And I wasdefinitelysure today.”
“I’m sorry. I just need to talk to you.”
He nods, but he’s frowning, staring at me. “So you remember me?” His words are laced with bitterness, his posture still rigid.
“I don’t,” I admit. “It’s kind of a long story. Can we talk?”
He doesn’t answer right away, just holds my gaze, and then his expression softens the slightest bit. “I might be able to take a break now. Let me ask Mrs. Gupta.”
I watch him disappear into the kitchen, already peeling off his apron. I think about running away, think about leaving before I open another can of worms, one I might not be able to close again. One I apparently couldn’t live with.
Zach comes back and I follow him out of the restaurant. It’s chilly despite the sunlight that’s making us both squint. I breathe in and face him, and I want desperately to know everything. To start fresh. I feel like we should introduce ourselves.
“Hi,” I say at last.You’re real. We’re having a conversation.I smile at him and he hesitates but finally, finally smiles back. This time, his teeth show. And his smile is bright. And it is beautiful, but still reserved, stiff.Memory Zach smiles at me with his whole face. He fidgets less than the real-life boy in front of me.I almost wish I was telling my Zach about this, explaining how it went and watching his reaction, rather than living this moment. I know he’d laugh at the part where I ended up stuffing my face with Indian food instead of confronting Zach.
“Where do you want to go?” Zach asks. “My car’s still a piece of shit, but it’s probably warm.”Still.He’s watching me, wondering whether I get the reference, whether I remember ever being in it.
When he first got on the bus, Memory Zach said his piece-of-shit car wouldn’t start.
My ears ache from the cold. “Sure.”
Zach unlocks his car and we slide in.
I glance around. It’s a mess, full of film magazines and old bottles and DVDs. A koala dangles from the rearview mirror. I want so desperately for something to be familiar. The smell, the warmth, anything.
“What are you doing here?” Zach asks, and behind the defensiveness, I hear the genuine curiosity in his voice. I think his eyes look a little bit sad. “Katy told me you had gotten the procedure done.”
“Katy told you? She said no one else knew.” Did she think I’d be angry that she told Zach?
“I guess she felt she had to tell me to keep me from bothering you. She told me what you’d done, that you would never remember…”
“Us,” I offer, and he nods. “I don’t. But I found out about the”—I swallow—“memory splicing.”
“I didn’t know about it at first. You didn’t even tell me when…” He shakes his head, and the hurt in his voice is palpable. “You just did it without saying anything. Like everything that happened between us didn’t matter.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I still don’t understand.”
That’s why he’s been so cold to me. For erasing him.
I suddenly feel ashamed. Because he cared about me. It’s obvious that he did. So whywouldI do it?
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “Katy said you wanted me to stay away from you, that I needed to act like we didn’t know each other if I ever saw you. I tried calling you anyway, and I even came to see you at school, but Katy threatened to beat my ass if I didn’t leave you alone.
“She said this was your way of trying to let go, and that I didn’t have to like it, but I had to respect it. So Raj—he’s the only person I told—and I weren’t sure what to make of it when you suddenly started following us.” Most of his anger seems to have dissolved now, to have been replaced by hurt. “And it’s one thing if we’d run into you, but I don’t understand what kind of sick game you’re playing. Is Katy behind it? I know she’s not my biggest fan. You’re coming into Mrs. Gupta’s restaurant, and to my school, just to what? Show me I still mean nothing to you? That I never will again?”
