EPILOGUE
Cosmo - Snagged Thread
Cosmo’s hand shook as he brought a cigarette to his lips.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep crying or just throw up all the milkshake sloshing around in his stomach, but this cemetery was suitable for neither.
Leaves on the trees in gold and vermilion blurred into an autumnal smear as he tried to blink the tears from his vision.
At least he’d worn waterproof mascara today.
“I just want” – he sniffled and took a drag – “I just want some Cosmo, in some universe, to not be treated like shit. Is that really so much to ask? Even if it’s not me.
Just some Cosmo.” A composition notebook sat in his lap, the cover closed so he didn’t distort the handwriting with his tears.
Micah had warned him the information inside was heavy, and Cosmo had initially refused to look, insisting that if he didn’t read it yet, that meant he’d get another date with Micah.
In reality, he’d delayed looking because he’d been terrified to know.
It was so much worse than he’d expected.
Smoke rolled out of his nose, and he wiped his wet lashes. “Who knows how many parallel universes are out there. Do you think I’m treated like shit in all of them?”
“No, I don’t.” The wind tousled Micah’s hair, blowing his bangs across his forehead. Bits of dirt and leaves dusted the knees of his jeans, his back resting against a listing headstone. “I know for a fact that the Cosmo who wrote in that notebook isn’t treated like shit.”
“How can you know that?”
Micah tentatively folded his hand over Cosmo’s. “Because he’s with me. Other me. And I would never treat you like shit.”
Cosmo sorely wanted to believe that their counterparts on the other timeline were happy together, that Micah treated him as something other than an absurd Dadaesque novelty, something other than a transient interest to be enjoyed for a brief time and thrown away.
But if every one of Cosmo’s other selves went crawling back to Zedd again and again, if every one of them ignored warnings about Royce, then he was doomed to be miserable in every universe.
“I could quit my job and move away, or I could call a police station and tell them that Royce–” Cosmo choked and tapped the notebook for emphasis.
“I died originally. Why do you think that is? Some people are sensible, Micah. They listen to logic and to the good advice from their friends. Then there’s me.
I fall back into the same habits until they bury me alive. ”
Micah adjusted his glasses and said, “Are you saying you deserve what Royce did to you? Is planning to do to you?”
“No! But I threw my own funeral just to move on from Zedd. I need something dramatic in order to change. And I need… I can’t do it alone.”
“You’re not alone. And I think having your self from another universe deliver you a warning for the future is pretty damn dramatic.
Other Cosmo clearly has enough love for himself, for you, to have written all of this out so it doesn’t happen again.
And I think he knew you’d react this way, because there’s a message in the book you need to see. ”
Cosmo had seen all he needed to. He couldn’t stomach reading any more of his screw-ups that would end in dire consequences.
But Micah took the notebook and thumbed to the very back.
A folded piece of stationery was taped to the page, and above it, written in sparkly green gel pen in Cosmo’s handwriting was: For Cosmo, who has to learn the hard way.
He scoffed and stubbed out his cigarette, then lifted the flap of stationery. His vision doubled as he stared at lines running across, and he let out a small sob and pressed his hand over his mouth.
You are the vision and surrealism of a Salvador Dalí
You are the haunting dramatism of a Francis Bacon
You are the fleeting and fragile flesh of a Zdzis?aw Beksiński
But there is one thing you are not
YOU ARE NOT A SNOW SHOVEL ?
Cosmo wouldn’t have been able to write that message to himself with any sincerity.
But his other self had, and maybe that was enough for now.
He could keep the note with him and choose to believe it.
Choose to remember that he was worth more until he was able to write it back to himself with conviction.
Micah’s voice was as soft as the cemetery wind. “Can I put my arm around you?”
Cosmo could give up, resign himself to the idea that a happy ending was never in the cards for him, or he could follow what his heart wanted, choose to believe he deserved that.
And if Micah treated him like shit – which he didn’t actually expect – then he’d leave and move on to something better. You are not a snow shovel.
As he leaned in, Micah enveloped him with strong arms. The scent of laundry soap and clean skin filled his senses, and that paint-stained sweatshirt was just as soft as he knew it would be.
The idea that in some other cemetery, in some other universe, their other selves might be doing this very thing was actually rather romantic.
“Do you want to go home?” Micah asked.
“I’m not sure I feel safe there.” Quitting his job at Identical Dog; calling the police and warning them about Royce; maybe staying with Mom for a while; weren’t things he was looking forward to doing, but the sooner the better.
“Would you mind terribly if we went back to your place for a bit while I sort things out?”
“Not at all. I have stale, teeth-fracturing candy corn waiting for you.”
“What a delightful gift.”
The color in Micah’s cheeks deepened, and he gave Cosmo a shy smile. “Other Micah mentioned that you like it, so I went right out and bought some. But I didn’t think it would take so long for us to meet. Figured we would have run into each other at an exhibit or party long before we did.”
“I’m surprised you were able to keep from eating the whole bag of candy corn while waiting for me to show up.”
Micah wrinkled his nose, then replaced it with a grin. “Rock-solid willpower right here.” He stood and held out his hand. Cosmo clasped it, and Micah pulled him to his feet.
“How is your willpower against baked goods?” Cosmo asked.
“Non-existent.”
“Good. I’m going to bake you some red velvet white chip cookies.
You won’t know what hit you.” He tucked the notebook under his arm then laced his fingers through Micah’s.
Sunflowers flourished between pitted headstones, and a forgotten jack-o’-lantern gave them a toothy grin as they passed.
They followed the winding trail through fallen leaves, heading out of the graves and into the light.