Chapter 6 Noelle
6 Noelle
June 20, Version 12
The idea that a kiss could get me out of this sounds too off-the-wall, but after another day of getting nowhere with endless Google searches—and even a trip to the library—I decide I shouldn’t put it off any longer. It sounds ridiculous, but no more so than my current reality. I have to try something . Besides, he thinks I look vaguely familiar. Though he doesn’t seem to be in a time loop like me, it could be a sign that he’s the key to getting out of this. I hope.
I debate what to wear for my trip to get bubble tea. My wardrobe isn’t meant for attracting anyone’s attention. I have casual clothes that I wear in my apartment, and simple work pants and blouses that I wear to the office. That’s pretty much it. I could, of course, go out and buy something, but I can’t order anything because it will never get here.
I feel completely out of my depth. I’ve only had one boyfriend. Dave and I met in our first year of university, though we didn’t get to know each other well until our final year. Then one night, we were studying late together…
I wince. Not that the start of our relationship is a bad memory, but when I think of Dave, I always recall how it ended, five years later.
“But why?” I asked him. “We were planning to move in together, and now you’re breaking up with me? I feel like I have whiplash.”
Once, Dave might have laughed if I made such a comment, but he didn’t. He just said, “I’m not in love with you anymore.”
“But why ?” I repeated. I wanted him to point to something in particular; I wanted to know exactly what the problem was so I could fix it. I wished it could be like a difficult question on an exam. If I’d studied hard and prepared for it, I could solve it.
Except people’s feelings don’t work that way, and my long-term relationship had gone up in smoke, even though, as far as I knew, nothing had started the fire.
He was the only man I’d ever loved, and as I got used to being alone, papering over my injured heart with a bland smile, I resolved to never let myself be so vulnerable again. Seemingly mundane things had taken on extra significance. A funny TV show that I’d first seen with him, for example, was now too sad to watch.
Sure, I’d enjoyed being in a relationship, but it wasn’t worth it. I didn’t want to curl up on my bed, sobbing my eyes out at ten in the morning on a Saturday, rather than going grocery shopping like I was supposed to, then eating instant noodles from the back of my cupboard because there was nothing else. I didn’t want to wrap myself in the hoodie he’d given me and torture myself by thoughts of what he was doing on weekends rather than being with me .
Two months later, those thoughts became especially bad when I discovered he had a new girlfriend. I couldn’t help wondering whether he’d fallen in love with her before he broke up with me. Perhaps he’d even cheated.
That was when I spiraled.
One night, after finishing a bottle of wine and The Notebook , I gave him a call. When he didn’t answer, I called him three more times in half an hour—that was what it took for him to pick up.
“Noelle,” he said, “what’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? Was he serious?
“You broke my heart,” I said accusingly, and then, through the fog of my tipsiness, I felt horribly embarrassed. Because I realized that, although he once would have been angry at the thought of anyone hurting me, he no longer cared.
He’d changed, he’d moved on, and I… hadn’t.
I hated the person I’d become after he dumped me. I never wanted to be her again. I would not let myself be her again. The breakup had spurred a degree of chaos in my life that had been unmatched until the last several days.
I’d never believed in fairy tales, not really, but my parents—who’d met in a history class in their second year of university—seemed to have a happy enough marriage. I’d thought that might be something I could have too.
But I’d been wrong.
I stuck to my resolution: I haven’t dated anyone since Dave. Nobody in six years. But my goal isn’t to have a relationship with the man at the bubble tea shop. I just want to kiss him and see if it will get me out of this time loop. You know, perfectly normal stuff.
Frustrated by the lack of options in my closet, I put on a pair of gray work pants, a short-sleeve pink blouse, and some sensible heels, then look at the clock.
Shit! I need to get moving.
I hurry to the tea shop and manage to arrive at exactly the same time as before. I decide to order the Iron Goddess tea again so it’ll give me a conversation topic. We’re getting the same tea, what a coincidence!
He strolls in a minute later and places his order. Then he turns to me as I’m waiting for my drink and says, “Have we met before?”
“No!” My voice sounds strangely high. I open my mouth to say something else, anything else, but what comes out is, “Dajklsjfja.”
He tilts his head, as if waiting for me to clarify.
I run out the door.
The next day after lunch, I put on the same outfit as yesterday—it’s hanging in my closet, all clean—and head to the bubble tea shop at the appointed hour. I place my order and wait, and he walks in, wearing jeans and a dark T-shirt, as usual.
I’m determined to do better today. To at least say something that isn’t gibberish.
“Have we met before?” he asks as we’re waiting together.
“I don’t think so, but I come here every now and then.”
“That’s probably it.” He smiles at me.
“I’m Noelle.”
“Cam.”
There we go! I’m having a normal conversation with him. But how do I get from learning his name to getting a kiss so I can possibly break this time-loop curse?
“Doyouwantogoonadate?” I ask.
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
My cheeks flame. “Do you want to go on a date? It needs to be tonight.”
“Why is that?”
“Um…”
“Number thirty-two?” says the woman behind the counter.
I grab my drink and run out of there as fast as I can.
I haven’t given up on Operation: Get Kissed. But it hasn’t been going well so far, and I figure I should try other things too.
That evening, I return to the night market. I still can’t find the dumpling woman. However, since I need something to eat, I go to another dumpling stall.
Hypothesis: perhaps it’s not those particular dumplings that sent me into the time loop, but any dumplings that are consumed at this market. Maybe if I eat dumplings again, my life will return to normal.
Okay, I don’t actually expect this to work, but it’s worth a try, right?
The dumplings are good, but not quite as good as at the other place. After I finish them, I get an ube halaya pandesal—re-creating my dinner from the first June 20—and see someone familiar in my peripheral vision. Cam. Since the day hasn’t reset, he’ll remember who I am.
I duck behind the person in the Pocky box costume, too embarrassed for Cam to see me after our earlier interaction, but I keep an eye on him. When he disappears from view, I exhale and start walking toward the subway station. I look at my phone to check that the security incident is over and—
I bump into someone.
“Sorry,” I say. “I was—wait. You have green hair today.” It’s the white woman I saw the other day, the one with a pink bob.
“And you have long hair.” Her eyebrows draw together. “I know this sounds ridiculous, but are you reliving June twentieth over and over?”