Spark (22 page)

              When we get to the tunnel, it has started to rain.  I pull over to the side of the road and cut the lights, still feeling a little guilty about what had happened with Tess and having to leave so abruptly.  She hadn’t really seemed all that upset, but I feel bad anyway.  I quickly forget about it, though, because Dani is suddenly leaning over practically on top of me, kissing my neck.  I’m thinking,
here we go again—
a little uneasy, but too excited to be completely askew about it.  “Um, Dani—what are you doing?”  I ask, not wanting her to stop, but seriously—what
is
she doing?

              “Nothing…” her lips linger on my neck, her breath a tickle.

              My heart wants to jump headlong into this, but my head tells me something different.  “No seriously, what gives?”  I gently push her away.  “You’re in love with Graham, remember—or whoever it happens to be this month.”  My irritation is seeping through and Dani recognizes it, to my surprise, and gives me that fake pout again. 

“What?”  She cries, playfully, leaning even closer.

              “Nothing…” Her perfume is all up in my head now.  I am losing control.  I pull her in and plant one, a bit too sloppily, on her.  “I just can’t believe this is happening,” I say. 

              Dani leans back over into her seat and her face turns serious.  “Zach, I’m sorry.”

              “For what?” 
How could you be sorry for this?  This is great! 
Will someone just turn me off, please?

              “The way I treat you.”

              “You treat me fine,” I say, trying to pull her back, but knowing all the while just exactly what she means.  She does
treat
me… she plays with my emotions, and I fall for it every time.  But I keep hanging on for the small hope that one day she will realize how perfect we are for each other. Then I won’t have to entertain ridiculous fantasies like time traveling with the objective of making sure I never meet her.  You know it’s bad when you’re willing to give someone up just to be free of the pain of not having them.

              “No, I don’t,” she insists.  “Do you remember last time we were here?  What happened after?”

              I nod. 
How could I forget?

             
“Well, I thought a lot about that night.  How sweet you were, and how gentle and—how you kissed me.  But most of all, I thought about how kind you were, to go out in the middle of nowhere in the dark to get me—and then, to forgive me like you did.  To just…
accept
me.”  She pauses, looks at me with an expression I will never forget, because it’s not one you ever catch on Dani Chase’s face.  It is regret.  “I decided right then and there that I would never deserve someone like you.  You were too good for me—
are
too good for me.”

              Could it be true?  Has Dani loved me all this time, too afraid to tell me?  Afraid she wasn’t good enough for me?  Could this explain all the boyfriends?  Has she been simply chasing something to fill the void of loving me?  Hasn’t she realized that I love her, too?  Surely, she must know.

              “Dani, I have always loved you,” I say.  “You have to know that.”

              By the light of the dashboard, I see tears glistening in her eyes.  “I know,” she admits.  “I just don’t know why.”

              There is nothing more to say.  I just kiss her, firmly, with deliberation, as if it’s our first kiss.  And in a way, it is.

              I keep listening in the silence that surrounds us for her to say something.  Something like
I love you, too, Zach. 
But there is nothing.  Only the dribbling raindrops on the roof in between quick breaths.  I catch a streak of lightning out of the corner of my eye, quick—then another one, just as quick, nearby almost touching the other one as they fade in the night—and I wonder—is this what it is to love someone?  To be so full and yet missing something?  The words you want to hear?  The hopes you want to share?  Will we be forever missing each other?  Near each other but not quite in the same place.

Tess

I walk over to the window, pull back the curtain and peek out.  The sky is all lit up with stars like a Christmas tree.  There is a bank of clouds inching over the moon.  I watch it for a moment, and I get sort of lost in it, like I’m in a trance.  And for some reason, it reminds me of Dani, and I feel sort of sad.  I have a fleeting thought that I am going to miss her and I don’t know why or where it came from.  It’s like for a brief moment, I am back here that first night I came home from the hospital, trying to wrap my mind around Dani’s death.  There is something hurting in my throat and I swallow hard but it won’t go away.  I’m so glad Dani’s alive, that the past didn’t have to be what it was.  The day that changed my life forever changed it in a way I would have never imagined.  It set me on a journey that would take me through years—from a dark, lonely place—to life, to hopes so powerful that it was like I could hold them in my hands, mold them into something real. These hopes were for a best friend saved and for finding someone I knew, without a doubt, I was meant to fall in love with.  I love both of them.  The problem is that Zach only thinks Dani loves him.  And he has no idea what he’s about to miss.

              I look at the clock; it’s 8:00 p.m.  Maybe that conversation with Cricket can’t wait until tomorrow.  I dial her number.

             
She answers with a guarded tone, as if she’s not used to my calling her. 

              “Hey—can you talk?”

              “Yeah…” Still guarded.

              “Is this a bad time?  I can call back.”

              “No, it’s just that I’m not used to you calling me.  You always text.  What’s up?”

              I cringe—my brain must have misplaced that pertinent piece of information.  “Sorry, it’s just…”  How am I going to bring up Zach without knowing our history with regards to this subject?  I take a deep breath and jump in, partly because I don’t know what else to say, partly because I am extremely anxious to move forward with Zach.  And I can’t, apparently, do that on my own at the moment, not without knowing more details about his personal history.  “I have something to tell you.”

             
“Um, ok…what?”

              “Well …”  How to start this without sounding like a crazy person? 

              Asking to see Cricket in person will give me a few extra minutes to figure out what I’m going to say.  I need to tell her, of course, about the time travel, but I’m not sure if we have that kind of friendship.  I mean, is she the type of friend that will believe anything I say, support me no matter what?  Or will she tell me what I need to hear—that I’ve gone off the deep end, for instance—instead of what I want to hear?  There’s only one way to accomplish everything I need to accomplish in one fell swoop.  The lab.  Zach’s dad’s research files.  I need proof, and I need to show it to Cricket.  She will believe me and help me figure out a way to fix this mess, right?

“Actually, I need to talk to you in person.  This is going to sound nuts, but can you meet me at 656 Washington, behind the old dry cleaners?  Tomorrow morning?”

              “Um, yeah.  I guess.  What time?”

              “Ten o’clock?”  So far, so good.

              At the lab, Cricket walks up to my car and gets in.  Last night’s storm has lingered, and the sky is threatening rain, again.  “Ok this place is creepy.  I’ve heard about this place.  What gives?”

              I drum my fingers on the steering wheel and fidget with the air vents, still trying to get a handle on what to say.  “Have you ever believed in something so much you thought you might be going crazy?  Like something no one else would ever believe?”

              “You mean like seeing a ghost?”  Cricket shudders.  “Is that why we’re here?”

              “No, I mean like…”  The words were going to sound unbelievable no matter how I went about it.  “Knowing who you’re going to marry.”

              “You know who you’re going to marry?  You brought me all the way down here to tell me
that
?” 

              “No—I mean, yes.  Sort of—”

                “What’s going on?”  Cricket asks, nervously.

              I just stare at her, completely at a loss how to even begin.  It’s a story that began over four years ago, one that has yet to be completed.  There are so many things I want to tell Cricket, but to start at the wrong turn could prove disastrous.  One mention of time travel without proof and my story would be dead in the water.

              “Yes,” I say.  “Do you believe me?”

              “Sure.  It’s possible.  People can have like premonitions about things that will happen to them.  Like, my dad told me about this guy who predicted his own death.  He went and bought a suit and planned his own funeral, right down to the music that he wanted played.  Then, he died, just like he predicted.  Weird, huh?  Is this someone you have a crush on?”

              “Sort of….”

              “Well then, of course you think you’ll marry him, whoever it is . . . . ”  She looks at me hopefully, as if expecting me to say his name.

              Annoyed, I glare at her without thinking.  “No.  I know it.”

              “Ok,
how
do you know it then?  How exactly do you know who you’re going to marry?”  She is getting visibly annoyed, and disappointed that I’ve not told her who it is.

              I point to the side of my head.  “It’s all here.”

              “It’s in your head?  Well, duh!”

              “No, I mean… I have memories and thoughts that I never had before—not before the accident.”

              “So did the fall actually damage your brain?”  Cricket tries to sound calm, but I can tell she’s worried.  “Are you ok?”

              “I’m fine.  It’s just that…”  How to proceed—it is tricky.  On one hand, it would be nice to know I’m
not
, in fact, crazy and that the accident hadn’t somehow caused all this to materialize in my head as some post-traumatic fantasy.  Cricket wouldn’t know that, of course, but she’s level-headed and practical, and she always has the right answers—the ones that make the most sense.  It would be a relief to see another human being’s reaction to my incredible experience.

              On the other hand, in all likelihood, she’s not going to believe it.  In fact, she might even feel compelled to take this to my parents or Dani or worse, Zach himself.  Not that I believe she would betray my trust, but in her concern for my well-being, she might reach out to people I’m close with.  It might be detrimental in the long run to tell her anything about this.  It’s not like she can actually do anything about it.  She can’t help me win Zach over.  That’s already written in stone. 

              Come to think of it, what am I so worried about anyway if my future with Zach is already determined?  That we will be together, some day, no matter what else happens between now and then.

              It’s because I am impatient, because I can’t stand the thought of not spending every minute of my life with him, and maybe because I know I have the power to change everything.  Maybe, in the end, that’s the only thing that matters right now.  I’ve got this.  Right in the palm of my hand.

              “Never mind,” I say.  “It’s just wishful thinking.  I’m sorry I dragged you out here.  I just wanted to get out of the house for a while.”

              “No problem.  Hey—as long as we’re out, you want to get ice cream?” 

              I can’t think of anything that sounds better right now… well, I can think of
one
thing.  But I need this brief moment of normalcy—an easy, stress-free escape—in the form of ice cream, shared with a good friend.  I need to collect myself and prepare for my next move.  Because I have a feeling it’s going to be a big one.

              “Sure,” I say.  “That sounds great.”

              Picture two typical teenage girls, sitting across a table from one another, eating ice cream.  One of them—the one that smiles and talks nonstop—is having rainbow swirl.  The other one, the one with the long dark hair and the circles under her eyes, is having rocky road.  She pauses for a moment, as she watches her friend—the ever-cheerful one who is enjoying her ice cream to the fullest.  And all she can think about is rocky road—
yes, it is,
she thinks. 

              I am seeing this contrast so completely; it is like a sparkler lit up in my head.  Cricket lives in the ever-present world of linear time.  She is the kind of person who accepts things for what they are.  She has no regrets.  She is full of hopes and dreams for the future. Anything can happen, and she’s ok with that.  Me, on the other hand?  I’m miserable because I know things.  I know my future has Zach in it.  I have the fairytale ending within my grasp.  Which is a great place to be, until you realize that one dumb move can turn the whole thing into a tragedy that would make Shakespeare cringe.

              Two girls eating ice cream.  Simplicity. 

Gut-wrenching decisions are far from simple.

If I could go back to simple, it would be when Zach and I were just innocent kids, with no knowledge of anything that is to come.  Maybe if I hadn’t been such a rotten friend, none of this would have happened to us. 

I like your hair.

All I had to do was smile at him.  Two words would have done it. 

Thank you.

Foundations are so simple.  Love starts small.

So, I decide to go back.  Wasn’t it Zach himself who’d said that time travel was created for me in a way?  It’s what I do.  I have to do it.  It’s the only thing that makes sense.  But the when and where…

I can see going back to that school bus.  Zach and I become friends, Dani gets jealous and we grow apart.  I hinge my decision on this logical outcome:  If Dani and I had never been best friends, she might have never been at my party to begin with.  And even if she were, she certainly wouldn’t have been sitting on that bench with Zach, just before the storm hit.  Why would he be sitting with her when he was there to see me?  Dani wouldn’t have died.  And finally, I wouldn’t have been on that swing.  I would have been with Zach.  Which means my accident would have never happened.  Zach and I—together from the start, no time travel, no chips implanted in heads, no wires, no confused searches through time for each other.  Nothing but real, true love.