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No.
None of this is right.
This isn’t how things are supposed to be.
I’ve helped Dax do his taxes the last two years. I know Kicks is doing well.
“What happened?” I don’t mean to say it out loud, but I do, and Dax looks up. It makes me feel the need to explain my question. “I thought Kicks was successful. I remember the lines down the street when you first opened.”
Dax sits down on the edge of the sidewalk, stretching his legs out onto the road. He reaches out his hand for mine and pulls me gently down beside him.
“Things were great in the beginning. I thought I was finally getting somewhere. My sales were amazing. I was starting to get some great word of mouth. People were even coming from Toronto for my shoes. Then the pandemic happened, and everything went to shit. We had to close for so long that I didn’t have the funds to get an online store up and running because I was still in debt from the opening. Everything snowballed from there. Even when we could open up again, I was too far underwater to catch my breath. The end was inevitable. It just happened a little quicker than expected.”
Something is wrong. Aside from the terrible realization that I guilted my best friend into closing his already-struggling store yesterday, there’s a second, even more sickening sensation creeping its way up my spine. This isn’t how Dax’s story unfolded in my timeline. I remember him opening, and the sneakers were practically flying off the shelves, just as he said. And yes, thepandemic happened in my timeline too. But he hadalreadygotten his online store up and running before lockdown. This guy came in, Jeremy was his name, and he loved Dax’s shoes so much that he wanted to open a second location in Toronto, but Dax wasn’t interested in that. Instead, Jeremy offered to invest, and Dax set up his e-store. He had a warehouse just south of Barton and a small staff helping him to keep up with the demand.
Why didn’t that happen here?
I retrace my steps through my memory, trying to figure out where everything went wrong.
The realization hits so hard that it knocks all the air from my lungs, and I have to brace against the sidewalk so I don’t topple over.
Jeremy was a business colleague of Stuart’s.
I met him at a party, and when he told me he was visiting Hamilton the following week, I mentioned a bunch of places he should hit up, including Dax’s store.
If I never dated Stuart, I never went to that party, and the catalyst conversation never happened.
“Hey. Are you okay?” Dax’s arm comes around my shoulders, and he pulls me into a side hug.
I’m not okay. Not at all. How can I tell Dax that I’ve ruined his life?
“I can fix this.” I get to my feet. The book club woman was right. I have pulled a thread, and everything has unraveled, and it’s left a giant gaping hole in my best friend’s life.
Dax reaches for my hand again. “You can’t fix this, Gemma. I love that you want to, but it’s not your problem.”
But it is. He just doesn’t understand. I can put it all back. I just need to return to my timeline and set things back the way they were. Dax will get his store back, everything will be fine. It just means that I have to make sure I go back and—
I will lose what I have right now with Dax.
And I’ll lose Wilde.
My knees turn to Jell-O, and my ass hits the pavement with a hard smack.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
I’ve fucked up so hard that I can’t find a way out. There isn’t a way for this to end well. Either I stay here with a front-row seat to watch my best friend lose everything he’s worked hard for, or I go home, and Dax goes back to being just my friend, and I’ll have to live with the memory of what we could have been.
So much for unraveling the tapestry. I’ve soaked it in gasoline and lit a match, and now I’m watching everything burn.
“Gemma? What’s up?”
He’s not supposed to be comforting me. It should be the other way around.
“I’m okay. Just worried about you.”
“You don’t need to be. I’m already working on my new plan.”
