If ever I’ve spent with my mind less on my work, it’s been today. No classes to keep me busy, only some VERITAS work from Kevin and a pile of assignments from his Quantum Physics class to grade. Shavash offered to grade half of them, but I refused, knowing less time on my own to think would be a good thing. Every moment I don’t have something to distract my brain, it keeps turning to Elie, to how she’s going home tonight. If this bizarre time machine works, which it did, as long as it does scale up properly to a human.
But it did once, Will, so it’ll do it again. Then she’ll be gone.
“Stop reminding me,” I scold myself.
I forgot I’m at home now, as is Evan. You couldn’t be more lost in thought.
“Reminding you of what?” he calls from the living room to me in the kitchen.
“Nothing,” I mutter. I pour myself a cup of coffee—since I’ll need the caffeine come midnight—and walk in to sit with him.
He eyes me analytically. “You haven’t been yourself at all today.”
I sip my coffee, stalling. Elie had come up with a cover story for us, but I had hoped to only have to use it if she actually does go.
Which she’s going to do.
But since I’m not operating with a full shell of electrons, I can’t think of anything else to say but, “Yeah, it’s . . . it’s Elie.”
“Did you guys split?”
“We’re not dating, for the millionth time!” The usual amusement I have in providing this answer to my friends is this time replaced with snappy irritation. Maybe even misery.
Evan raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I believe you.”
I stare at my mug.
“Not.”
“Evan, for real! It’s that she’s flying home tonight. To . . . New Zealand. For a week.”
He frowns. “Not waiting until Christmas? Is she going back again in a month?”
I shrug. Honestly, I wish I’d gone into my room instead of the living room. There’s nothing I’d less like to discuss right now.
“Man, you’re gonna miss her. What’re you going to do without your not-girlfriend?” There’s no trace of teasing in his voice, only genuine concern. “I guess you’ll be here Sunday morning for our hangout again.”
Without her . . . lots of free time again . . . full sleep again, that’ll be nice . . . but no Elie . . . none of that prim but passionate attitude in every word she says . . . in that rather adorable accent I’m so used to hearing practically every day . . . without her . . . none of that golden hair that smells like a summer garden when she’s leaning over the work table, next to me . . . not next to me again . . . never a flight of stairs away again. . . . Poor Jeanne, left alone again too. . . .
“Will? Buddy? You okay? You look like you’re gonna be sick.” Evan puts down the magazine he was reading and eyes me like I’m his patient.
I feel a weird constriction in my throat and nausea forming in my gut, but I try to act like I’m fine—You realize you’re not fine, right, Will? That you’re devastated and you really have no idea how much you’re gonna miss her—by forcing my lips upward in a smile. “Maybe JP will finally corral me into playing Call of Duty. That’s what I’ll do with myself.”
He laughs. “Uh huh. I better line up a bar crawl or something for Saturday night, before you find some hemlock.”
I laugh too at his poor joke, trying to at least act more cheerful, but he knows me too well. I give him a sad half-smile and get up, heading for my room. You better get used to being lonely now, I tell myself.
It’s too late to stop Elie from traveling back home tonight. Anyway, I promised her. As nuts as it seemed initially, and I was pretty sure then we’d fail, I gave her my word. We’ve gone this far. We’ve proven it works.
And it’s what she wants.
For her sake, not mine, we put together this time machine. And now, no matter what I feel for her—don’t kid yourself, Will, you fell hard—she’s going back. And I can’t let her see how I feel. I won’t complicate this for her.
It’s what she wants.