The Five Times I Met Myself (28 page)
“Whaddaya think?” Morgan slid a key into the locker, opened the door, and held it as he waited for Brock’s answer.
“Waterslides look great.” Brock pulled his suit out of his bag, set his sunglasses on the small shelf of the locker, slipped off his T-shirt, and stretched his arms over his head. “Should be a fun day.”
He glanced up at Morgan, who had somehow already changed. Faster than Clark Kent changing into Superman in a phone booth.
“Nice try, what do you think of her?”
“Bonnie seems really nice. I like her curly hair, good smile. Nice laugh.”
“Do I have to hurt you? Don’t want to, but I will.” Morgan pulled his fist back and jabbed it back and forth.
“Karissa’s cute, bright personality . . . I can see why you like her.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“I agree.”
“So you’re good with the plan? Keeping Bonnie company?
“Like white on rice.”
They emerged from the men’s bathroom and Brock took in the four huge slides that dominated the park. Two smaller slides were set to the left, and a six-story speed slide with a long line of people shot into the sky on their right. The park also boasted a kiddie pool with three slides, a giant hot tub, and the River Ride, which you could float down in single, double, or triple occupancy tubes.
After two or three minutes, Morgan turned his palms skyward. “Where are they?”
“Getting ready.”
“How long does it take to put a swimsuit on?”
“For you, apparently eleven point five seconds. For them a little longer.” Brock popped him in the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Karissa probably just wants to make sure she’s perfect for you.”
“You looking to drown today?”
As Brock laughed he spotted Karissa and Bonnie exiting the women’s bathroom. Karissa strolled toward them in a pale blue swimsuit that definitely accentuated her trim figure but covered enough skin that Brock didn’t feel like he was leering simply by glancing in her direction. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail, which dropped her age by five years but somehow made her even more beautiful.
They joined the girls at the edge of a grassy section of the park and laid down their towels. The four of them attacked each one of the four main slides with abandon. The banter between them was light and quick, and Brock tried to keep his answers brief as Karissa engaged him in questions about his major in college, and what movies he liked, and what his hobbies were. He kept wishing Morgan would engage, but his big friend was uncharacteristically quiet.
After an hour and a half, they meandered back to their towels spread out on the grass to the west of the slides and ate turkey sandwiches washed down with Dr Pepper and Mountain Dew. The sun grew hotter and Brock wanted to get back to the water. But this wasn’t his show.
“Ready?” Karissa tossed her sandwich wrapper into a paper bag, bounded to her feet, and cupped her hand to her ear. “I hear
the Hydrocliff calling. Free-fall slide with a sixty-foot drop, and that’s the only one we haven’t tried yet. We must go. Adventure awaits.”
“Nah.” Morgan patted his stomach. “Need to let the food settle for a few more minutes first before free-falling anywhere. Or even standing up.”
“Bonnie? You ready?”
“Same.” Bonnie squinted up at Karissa. “Take a few slides without me, ’kay?”
Karissa poked Brock’s leg with her toe and flashed her megawatt smile. “How ’bout you?”
Awkward moment. Should he stay? Everything in him wanted to go, but this was Morgan’s chance. His opening to get some time with Karissa alone. What was Morgan thinking?
Move, you big ox.
Brock turned to Morgan. “Karissa’s right. Adrenaline calls. Time to answer. Bonnie and I’ll hold down the fortress and guard the blankets.”
“Give me ten, fifteen maybe. Okay, twenty.” Morgan settled back on his blanket, slipped his sunglasses on, and splayed his arms out to the side. “Maybe thirty. I try to promise I won’t fall asleep.”
Karissa laughed. “Am I the only one who thinks I can lie in the sun anywhere, but where else can I get massive amounts of water up my nose as I slide down those tubes totally out of control?” Karissa poked Brock again. “Come on, I can tell you want to go.”
He did. So he went. For the next two hours Karissa and he whipped down the slides behind each other, rode double tubes together, and raced on different slides, starting at the same time to see who shot out into the landing pool first. They talked about everything and nothing as they climbed the stairs and waited in
line for their turns. Brock couldn’t ignore the playful, inviting look in Karissa’s eyes every time she looked at him.
The day ended too soon, and the four of them stood in the middle of the parking lot saying their good-byes.
“That was too fun.” Karissa smiled at Morgan and gave him a quick hug. “See you at Marcia and Scott’s wedding in a few months, right?”
“Indeed you will.”
She turned to Brock. “You’re playing guitar in their wedding, from what Morgan tells me.”
Brock nodded.
“Then I guess I’ll see you as well.” She stared at him a split second past normal, and Brock’s heart felt it like a laser.
Brock nodded again. Minutes later, Morgan and he had slipped into the Camaro and were speeding down I-5 back to Seattle. Brock turned up Van Halen on Morgan’s car stereo and as soon as he did, Morgan turned it down. “You good, my sun-burnt brother?”
“Yeah.”
“Liar.”
“Some brother I turn out to be.” Brock sighed and stared out the window to his right at the thick stands of trees whizzing by.
“What do you mean?”
Brock glanced at Morgan, then turned to gaze through the passenger window again. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“For what happened today.”
Morgan grinned. “Tell me what happened.”
“Me. Ejecting from the plane and leaving you with no wingman.”
“English, Brock.”
“Spending all that time with Karissa while you and Bonnie were on the grass.” Brock pressed his temples. “For flirting with her . . . for—”
“For hitting it off with Karissa like a grand-slam homer?”
“Yeah.” Brock rubbed his finger on a deep scrape on his knee he’d picked up on the River Ride. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but she asked if I wanted to go, and you didn’t—”
“Let it lie.” Morgan laughed and popped the steering wheel. “I think it’s awesome.”
“You do?”
“I knew if you guys ever met and spent more than five minutes together you’d hit it off like a sun going nova.”
“If you knew that, then why’d you invite me? I thought you liked her.”
“I do. For you.” Morgan grinned. “You and your God-destiny stuff can make you extremely stubborn at times. If I’d told you what I was doing, you never would have come. You’d have said it’s too soon after Sheila. You’d have said God would set you up when he wanted to do it, that he doesn’t need my help. But if I told you I needed help, I knew you’d be there. And you were. So I figured I’d give God an assist on this one. Am I good, or am I good?”
“You don’t believe in God.”
“Answer the question.”
“You’re very good.”
A smile rose to Brock’s face and stayed there for at least five minutes. Eddie Van Halen continued to play his astonishing guitar solos, and Morgan popped him in the shoulder as if toasting the emotions coursing through Brock.
“So?” Morgan said after the song finished.
“What do you mean
so
?”
“What do you think? Gut-level honest.”
A puff of laughter escaped Brock’s lips. Honest? He’d only broken up with Sheila a month ago and had promised himself he’d be single for a long time, but he was head over heels for Karissa. It was stupid to say it, but he couldn’t imagine life without her.
“You’re right, I shouldn’t even be thinking about it . . . but she’s my dream girl. Everything about her.”
As they tore over the freeway back down to Seattle, Brock had room for only one thought in his head: When could he see her again? He replayed her smile, her quick wit, her captivating eyes.
“I’m best man, right?” Morgan laughed.
“Shut up. I just met her.”
“Just take it slow, she’s been burned.”
“How?”
“Don’t ask me, I don’t know what it means. Bonnie just said she’s got the deer syndrome right now.” Morgan glanced at Brock. “You know. A little skittish. That bad relationship I mentioned when we were painting. I’m guessing that’s it.”
Morgan continued talking, but Brock didn’t catch any of it.
Hit it off
was the wrong description for his encounter with Karissa. Meeting a woman it would be tough to live without was more accurate. She’d yanked his heart out of his chest and said, “Hello, Brock, I’m your destiny.”
The memory faded and Brock shook his head. So vivid the memory, so real the emotions. But the smell of brewing coffee and the sound of kayakers on the water outside stole over him, and he remembered where he was. But though the scene faded, the
feelings didn’t. He’d never believed in love at first sight, but after August 17, 1985, he definitely believed in love at first day. Karissa had captured him lock, stock, and barrel with unquenchable visions of the future.
Less than three years later they were married and started living a life that wasn’t a fairy tale every hour of the day, but twenty-three and a half hours out of twenty-four was pretty good. It was so cliché, but so, so true: you never know what you have till it’s gone. And now the love that used to burn inside her for him had been completely snuffed out. And he was the one who had smothered the fire. But now he would grab matches and relight it.
J
UNE
9, 2015
H
e found Karissa the next afternoon at the university.
“What do you want, Brock?” Karissa glanced at him, then back to her cell phone as she marched across campus.
Time to risk it all.
“I need to tell you in detail about something I mentioned last time we spoke.”
“Send me an e-mail.” Karissa typed on her phone as she glanced back and forth between the path and her cell.
“It won’t take long.” Brock waited till she finished with her phone. “But I need your full attention.”
“How long?”
“Five minutes.”
“Do it in three.” She took a last look at her cell phone, slid it into her purse.
Brock held his hands out to his side and pleaded with his eyes.
“Fine, four minutes. Go.”
“Do you remember me telling you I’ve been forgetting things? When I talked to you about Tyson?”
“Yes.” She tapped her foot.
“That’s not exactly true.”
“Big shocker.” Her tapping sped up. “Thanks for the confession. Are we done?”
“It’s not that I can’t remember, it’s that the majority of the things in my life right now, the history of my life right now, didn’t happen to me. Do you remember me telling you last time that this isn’t my time line? That’s what I meant. I didn’t live this life.”
“Wow, now we’re dealing with reality. Good.” Karissa sighed and hoisted her purse farther up her shoulder. “I gotta go.”
“Please, two more minutes.” Brock held up his fingers. “Just two. Something impossible has been happening to me. I don’t know how, Karissa. But I’m dead serious when I tell you somehow I dreamed and talked to a younger version of myself. I told him things and he made different choices, and it changed things here in the present. Each time I woke up from a dream, the world had changed. Everything was different, and not in a good way.”
She stopped tapping her foot. Her shoulders slumped and she slowly shook her head. Brock braced for her full dismissal of him.
“What did you say?” She took a tiny step toward him, an incredulous look splayed on her face as she repeated the question. “What did you just say to me?”
“That I’m somehow connecting with the Brock from the mideighties. In my dreams.”
“This can’t be happening.” Her gaze moved past his head, and she put out a hand as if to steady herself, shuffled a few steps to the right, and settled onto a bench.
“Karissa?” Brock moved toward her.
“How in the world . . . it’s not possible . . .”
“What’s not?” He stopped three feet from the bench.
“This is so bizarre.”
“What is?”
She frowned at him, disbelief on her face. “You told me about this. You did. It’s all coming back to me.”
Had he? In another one of the time lines? If he had, she wouldn’t be reacting like this. “I don’t think so. This is the first time I’ve—”
“Shut up, Brock. I mean you told me about it when we were young. When we were first dating. You told me you were having conversations with some old guy who claimed to be you. We were running on the Burke-Gilman Trail.” She peered up at him with a look full of trepidation. “I blew it off at the time, and you did too after I started questioning your sanity. We joked about it for at least a few months after. But I could tell, there was a part of you that believed God was doing something extraordinary. A part that didn’t just believe, but would take action.”
“That Brock did take action.”
“You can’t be serious. You’re saying that version of yourself did things differently?”