Chapter 15 #2
I stood frozen as Maylin thumbed through her journal of our supposed past lives together.
The sickening realization dawned on me that she hadn’t just come with expectations of being my new girlfriend.
She’d brought along an entire alternate history where our souls were apparently cosmic frequent flyers.
Before I could muster a coherent response, Mom swooped in from the kitchen with her arms spread wide.
“Maylin! So wonderful to meet you!” She enveloped the girl in a hug like they were long-lost friends.
The woman beamed, tucking her journal back into her purse. “Thank you for inviting me. In our Dark Ages lifetime, you disapproved of our union. I’m glad to see you’re more supportive in this incarnation.”
Mom’s eyes widened in shock, but she recovered with the grace of a seasoned politician. She linked arms with Maylin. “Oh, you must tell me more about that over dinner. Everything’s almost ready.”
“Mom,” I hissed, trying to capture her attention, but she was already ushering Maylin toward the kitchen. As I heard Maylin explaining “karmic entanglement patterns” to my bewildered mother, I realized my escape options were vanishing faster than my ability to process what the hell was happening.
Watching them walk away felt like volunteering to step into an emotional wood chipper. This woman didn’t just come with baggage; she had an entire multiverse luggage carousel, and my name was pre-tagged on every suitcase. And dinner hadn’t even started yet. Fuck.
By the time I unglued my feet from the floor and followed them into the kitchen, everyone was already seated around the dining table.
Dad was at the head, serving steaming plates of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes.
Sawyer and Gia sat on one side, their faces bright with barely contained amusement.
Harley had claimed a spot on the opposite side, leaving two empty chairs for me and Maylin.
Mom gestured to the empty chair next to Harley. “Biscuit, come sit down before the food gets cold.”
I approached the table with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man marching to meet his executioner, noting with dismay that they’d placed my seat between Harley and Maylin.
As I settled in, Harley’s hand found my thigh under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The gesture would have been comforting if not for the fact that his shoulders were already shaking with suppressed amusement.
Mom gestured toward a basket of rolls and butter. “Please, help yourselves.”
Maylin reached for one, her movements precise and methodical as she applied butter in even strokes. She turned to me with a serene smile. “Do you still remember how to make your famous fermented yak butter?”
I choked on air. “I’m sorry. Did you just ask about my fermented yak butter recipe?”
Sawyer snorted into her water glass while Gia stifled her mirth behind her napkin. Harley was now visibly shaking as he fought to maintain his composure.
Maylin nodded enthusiastically, unfazed by the reactions to her question.
“In the 1300s, we were Mongolian pastoral nomads in the steppelands raising yaks during Genghis Khan’s reign.
You were terrible at milking them, but I loved you anyway.
You used to compose yak-herding ballads that made even the Great Khan weep.
” She sighed wistfully. “I still dream about your fabulous felt hat collection.”
She took a delicate bite of her roll, then declared with absolute seriousness, “Regular butter just isn’t the same.”
I glanced around the table for a lifeline, but everyone was too busy relishing my discomfort to intervene.
Dad focused on serving the roasted chicken onto everyone’s plates.
Mom beamed as if it were the most delightful dinner conversation she’d ever heard.
Harley, Sawyer, and Gia practically vibrated from the effort of not cracking up.
Mom gestured around the table while scooping mashed potatoes onto her plate.
“Sorry, I should have introduced everyone. This is my husband, Danson. Sawyer is my daughter, and Gia is her lovely girlfriend. And this is Harley, Ryker’s…
” Mom trailed off, as if debating whether to call him my boyfriend or if it would insult him by referring to him as my roommate.
“Other soul mate,” Maylin finished with a distinct edge in her voice, cutting into her chicken with more force than necessary. “You’ve been a troublemaker in my relationship with Ryker across countless lifetimes.”
Harley shrugged it off, helping himself to a mountain of mashed potatoes. “Well, it’s nice to know I’m consistent. I’d love to hear the juicy details since my memory seems a bit spotty.”
“Yes, having access to all our memories is a unique gift most people can’t fathom,” she replied with a hint of arrogance, taking a small, precise bite of chicken. “You’ve mostly been a woman, though. Not that being a man has ever stopped you from stealing Ryker from me time and time again.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, sensing a migraine brewing. It was not how I’d expected the evening to go. Not even close. I jabbed at my chicken, although I had lost my appetite.
“Do you have any recollections of our past lives?” Sawyer interjected, gesturing between my parents and her girlfriend with her fork before taking another bite of mashed potatoes.
Maylin’s expression brightened. “Yes, and it’s so lovely to see you again. We were in the same coven during the witch hunts. We were fortunate enough to be burned on the same pyre.”
My sister looked far too entertained by Maylin’s outrageous tales. “I’m thrilled we could meet under less fiery circumstances this time around.”
Harley, the traitor, was having entirely too much fun at my expense. “That’s fascinating, Maylin. What other past lives have you shared with Ryker?”
Maylin set down her fork beside her barely touched dinner. “Oh, where do I even start? There are so many lifetimes to choose from.” She tapped her chin before her eyes lit up.
“Ryker, surely you remember our tragically romantic incarnations during the French Revolution?” When I shook my head, she pressed on.
“You were a surprisingly sensitive executioner with an immaculately maintained guillotine, and I was an aristocrat renowned for such impressive wigs that it made Marie Antoinette herself jealous.”
When nobody responded, she continued her outrageous retelling.
“Our eyes locked as I approached the platform, and you whispered that my neck was ‘the most elegant you’d ever had the honor to sever.’ You even positioned the basket to ensure my head would land at my most flattering angle for the crowd.
You always show such thoughtful consideration. ”
Harley gripped my thigh so hard it almost hurt. I shot him a desperate look, but he was too busy stifling laughter to notice my silent plea for help. He raised his fork to his mouth before lowering it again, too amused to eat.
“How could I forget our adventure on the Titanic? You were a ruggedly handsome but broke artist, and I was a miserable first-class passenger stuck with my dreadful fiancé. You saved my life, only for us both to die when the ship sank. It was so romantic.”
“Isn’t that just the plot of Titanic with a worse ending?” Harley whispered, making me bite my lip to stay silent.
Maylin still heard him and gave a disdainful sniff, pushing her mashed potatoes around her plate. “The movie was obviously based on us, but they got the details all wrong. Typical Hollywood.”
“Were there any lifetimes where we didn’t die tragically?” I asked, desperately searching for a glimmer of positivity amid such a bizarre saga.
Maylin’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m particularly fond of our passionate incarnation in Edo-period Japan. Tell me you didn’t forget that one!” When I apologized, she shook her head with a disapproving tut. “You were a talented shunga artist—”
“What kind of artist?” I interrupted, instantly regretting my curiosity.
“To put it in contemporary terms, you were a woodblock artist who specialized in pornographic artwork. Your work was renowned for its audacious anatomical ambition.” She paused to take a dainty sip of water.
“I was your devoted model who you enjoyed drawing being violated by tentacles. I still flinch whenever I see an octopus! Although eating them does feel like sweet revenge.”
Harley, Sawyer, and Gia fought to maintain their composure. Even Dad and Mom struggled to suppress their amusement as they continued their dinner.
“That’s, uh, quite the eclectic history we have,” I managed. I tried to eat, but it was challenging to focus on food when it felt like I’d stumbled into an alternative reality. I pushed a small mountain of mashed potatoes around my plate. How could I eat when so much what-the-fuckery was unfolding?
Sawyer decided to up the ante on my discomfort. “Have you two ever been animals in your past lives?”
“Oh, absolutely! Our alpaca phase was particularly unforgettable.”
Gia’s voice strained with disbelief. “Alpacas?”
“Yes! Ryker was a magnificent stud alpaca with the fluffiest wool. Herders would trek for miles just to breed with him.” She shot me a nostalgic smile that made my skin crawl.
Sawyer nearly choked on her water. “You were quite gentle with me during breeding season, even though you were rather rough with the others. It was my honor to bear your cria.”
I stared at Maylin, my brain stalling like a nervous teenager attempting to unhook a bra for the first time. “My what?” I asked, wondering if I’d misheard her through the sound of my soul making a dramatic exit.
“Your cria,” she repeated with that same dreamy smile, as if that somehow cleared things up. “That’s what baby alpacas are called. I bore your children, Ryker. Fifteen stunning alpaca babies blessed with your luxurious wool.”