Chapter 47
Broken Time Machines
Connor
Swim-ply the Best Roomies
Brock: Happy Thanksgiving to my best bros!
Hunter: Happy Thanksgiving guys! Hope you’re all resting up and enjoying the time with family.
Me: I will once you get your ass over here with my pie
Hunter: Dude I’ll literally be there in 15 mins. Chill
Tyler: Happy Thanksgiving.
Brock: He speaks! You too, buddy!
Me: Hey guys…
Hunter: yea?
Me: Love you weirdos
Brock: Hell yeah! That’s some man love right here!
Brock: Hunter, your sister gonna be there bro? Tell her I miss her
Hunter: Stay the hell away from my sister!!
Me: Come on, man. You know better than that
Brock: Debatable
*Tyler emphasizes Brock’s text
Me: See you all in a few days. Try to stay out of trouble
Brock: No promises
Maisie never responded to my text this morning, so I decided to leave my phone in my room during Thanksgiving lunch with the fam.
They don’t need to see how pathetic I am, checking it every five seconds.
Plus, I’ve missed them. Even Liam, who is currently holding his finger an inch from my face, saying, “I’m not touching you.
” I want to be annoyed, but part of me is glad when he acts like a little boy.
It means he had a better childhood than the rest of us. Didn’t have to grow up so quickly.
Hunter, his moms, and his little sister Ariella arrived an hour ago, but he went straight to the kitchen to help my mom with preparations. A heavenly mix of cinnamon, sage, and sugar has been wafting through the house ever since, making my mouth water.
When we finally sit down all together, I look around the table and smile.
We’re not a conventional family, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
In a way, I’m glad Dad left. We are better off without him.
We’ve crawled our way back from a hellish situation, and I’m proud of who we’ve become.
The thought of him spikes my anxiety nonetheless.
I hope he doesn’t try to contact any of us today.
My thoughts are interrupted by Mom saying, “Well, dig in!”
My brothers don’t hesitate. They start slopping huge helpings of mashed potatoes and stuffing onto their plates and fighting over the basket of crescent rolls. All it takes is one lifted brow from Mom, however, and they all drop it, feigning civility for the sake of a nice time.
My chest expands. It’s good to be home.
“Save room for dessert!” Hunter says over the clanking of dishes.
“Duh,” Oliver says.
“Don’t eat too much or you’ll puke during touch football,” Robert says with a grin.
It’s tradition. Every year, we all play, even our moms.
The mention of a sport, however, draws my mind back to Maisie. I wish she would talk to me. Maybe I should just check that she hasn’t tried to get ahold of me. I excuse myself.
Hunter gives me a concerned look, but his attention is quickly drawn away by something Ariella is saying. He adores his little sister, and I know he’s missed her.
I’m almost to my room when I hear a faint buzzing sound. I book it the rest of the way, fumbling to my nightstand. Maisie. She’s calling. I pick up haphazardly, nearly dropping the phone in my attempt to get it to my ear.
“Hello?” I say, trying to catch my breath.
“Connor.” Her voice sounds small. It gnaws at my gut.
“Maize, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”
“It was awful,” she says, and I hear her sniffle. Is she crying?
“What was, Betty? What happened?” I say, and I must sound desperate because she rushes to get out the next part.
“Karsen was here. Mom invited him. He was saying awful things about you, and then my dad kicked him out. Apparently, Karsen looks like my mom’s high-school boyfriend, and that’s why she’s been so freaking weird about him.
And now I’m in my room, and everything kind of sucks, and you always know how to make it better.
So can you? Make it better?” She sniffles again.
My mind spins with all of this information, and my jaw works when I think about Karsen anywhere near Maisie. Thank god Mr. Thatcher kicked him out, but he never should have been there in the first place.
Maisie doesn’t need angry Connor right now, though; she needs her goofy friend to make her laugh, make her forget the pain of the day—so that’s what I do.
“Did you know that the Avengers were an actual group after World War II? They were Jewish assassins who hunted Nazi war criminals.”1
“Wait, are you serious?” she asks.
“I am,” I say with the confidence of someone who has read way too many World War II history books.
“Why do you know that?” she asks. She doesn’t sound like she’s crying anymore.
“From one of my super cool books on the aftermath of World War II.” It was something Grandpa got me hooked on. After he was done reading, he’d pass books on to me.
“So, you’re telling me one of your hobbies is reading about WWII? Sometimes I swear you’re eighty years old!” she says, laughing now, and the sound is music to my ears. I know she loves all of my old-school habits, which makes me feel loved. Like the hole my broken family has left can be filled.
“You didn’t know? I’m actually eighty.” I keep the jovial tone going. “I’m a time traveler stuck in an eighteen-year-old’s body.”
“Where’s your time machine?” she asks, playing along.
“In my mom’s garage. It needs maintenance. Your time doesn’t have the parts I need yet.”
“How long are you going to have to wait?” she asks.
“Well, you see, there’s someone here who’s caught my eye, so I don’t think I ever have any intention of leaving.” I hold my breath after the nuanced admission.
There’s a pause, but then she says, “I’m glad to hear that. I wouldn’t want to lose you to a future time.”
The smile that overtakes my face would be embarrassing if anyone were here to see it. I hear a knock on her end of the line.
“Connor, I’m sorry, I have to go. Lauren’s here. But…thank you for talking to me. You really helped.”
I gulp. “Anything for you, Betty. See you in two days.”
“Two days,” she says. “Bye, Connor.”
“My Queen.” I bow even though she can’t see it, then she hangs up.
There’s a knock at my own door. It’s Hunter.
“Come on, ya sad sack, the party’s out here,” he says, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Hope Maisie is having a good Thanksgiving.”
The fact that he knows the only person I would leave Thanksgiving with my family for is Maisie says it all. I don’t want to betray her trust by telling Hunter what happened, so I say, “She’s had better.”
“Well, I’m sure you helped cheer her up. Now come on, I can’t save you a roll for much longer.” He motions with his head for me to follow.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I say with a half-hearted laugh. I pocket my phone just in case and follow Hunter back to the festivities.