26. THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US #2
“Because it sounds crazy by anyone’s standards.”
“Try me,” Emerson says, “I might surprise you.”
I take a deep breath and drop my eyes to my hands, which are on the table, as I twist my fingers every which way to keep them busy and try to calm myself down. “I honestly don’t know how to begin…”
“Just spit it out, Conrad,” Emerson says. “Don’t think too hard. Just say something. Start somewhere. I promise you’ll feel better.”
“I’m in love with the guy from the portrait—” I blurt out, and Emerson frowns again, clearly confused. “I-I know that sounds crazy, but I know him.”
“You do?”
I nod. “I—he doesn’t remember me.” Emerson’s eyebrows climb at my words, and I grimace, but make myself continue. “I’m getting to the crazy part now, okay? Please try not to judge me. I promise I don’t belong in a mental hospital…”
He nods once, keeping his gaze on my face.
“Kenneth and I got engaged the night of my accident.” I gulp when his eyes widen.
“I had to go out of town for a work trip and crashed the car. I felt myself die—there was a boom, and then I’m sure I died, Em.
I know it in my heart. But then I woke up in the hospital six months in the past, and everyone thought I was crazy when I brought up Kenny and said—” I stop, shaking my head.
“No one remembers him. Not even you. I really thought I was going crazy, but then,”—I pull out the keychain and put it on the table—“I found this. It’s his apartment key.
The day I got out of the hospital, you drove me to his place, and I put it in the lock, and it worked, Em.
The door fucking opened, and I went inside and I—”
“Con—” Emerson’s eyes are wide. “Slow down before my brain explodes, please.”
I nod quickly, then try to steady my breathing. I guess rambling was probably not the right move, but it seems the story just doesn’t want to stay trapped inside of me anymore. “S-sorry.”
“The key worked?” he asks, eyes still wide. “A key from the past? Uh, future? Fuck, this is confusing.”
“It was December when I had the car accident, but when I woke up, it was fucking May, Emerson. I thought I was going crazy, but if this hadn’t really happened, then how do I have his key?”
Em grabs the keychain and turns it over, looking at the design with shaking hands. He slides it back toward me on the table, and I hold my breath for his reaction. His eyes are still wide, and he’s biting his bottom lip as he looks at me.
“That sounds fucking insane, Conrad,” Emerson says slowly, and I flinch. He grabs my hand and squeezes it. “But there has to be a logical explanation for this, right? I mean, something that isn’t time travel. Right?”
My mouth opens and closes several times like a fish out of water, and then I shake my head. “I don’t know how to explain the goddamn unexplainable, Emerson.”
Emerson nods. “Yeah, I guess this is a hard one to wrap your head around, isn’t it?
” I nod now too, then look down at my hands, which I’m still wringing on top of the table.
“Okay, say I believe you.” My eyes connect with his, and I feel hope blooming in my chest. “I guess you could say I’m a bit of a conspiracy theorist, so believing in time travel doesn’t feel too far-fetched, right? ”
I chuckle lowly, but I’m not sure if he’s being serious, so I grow quiet rather quickly.
He really is a bit of a conspiracy theorist. All in all, he thinks the government is controlled by the elite, so if anyone is going to believe my insanity, I know I can count on Emerson to do it.
But what if he’s just humoring me to make me feel better? Fuck. I shouldn’t have said anything—
“I really do believe you, Con,” he says, as if reading my mind. “You’re not crazy, and you’d never pretend to go through something like this. Not willingly, anyway. Your pride is too big.”
I sigh, relieved that he knows me. That he’s my friend. That I can confide in him. “I know it really does sound crazy—”
“—insane,” Emerson interrupts.
“—but I promise I’m not making this up. I need to find him again, Em. That’s why I went to the gallery today. I was hoping to see him, but he wasn’t there. I have to find a way to talk to him again. I need to get him back.”
“So you want to do what?” he asks, eyebrows scrunched. “Make him fall in love with you again?”
“Exactly,” I affirm, giving him a terse nod. “It’s not going to be easy either. He’s never really been open to the idea of dating.”
“That does make it difficult, I guess.”
“I have to try, though,” I reply, then gulp. “I can’t go the rest of my life wondering what would’ve happened if I’d been brave enough to give it another shot. I also can’t just… forget I’m in love with him. It’s like I’m missing a fucking arm and I can’t function without it.”
Emerson grins. “Oh, shit, you’re in love-love.”
I roll my eyes but return the smile. “You didn’t think I was making that part up for fun, right?”
“I don’t know… You in love seemed pretty far-fetched to begin with.”
“I know.” I sigh. “It’s become a fucking problem, truly.”
My friend throws his head back and laughs at this, and I shake my head and laugh too.
Probably the first real laugh I’ve had since my past life.
Then something I can’t explain happens—the hair on my arms stands on end as my body is suddenly covered in goosebumps.
I shiver, and when I look up, the air whooshes out of my lungs as if I’ve been punched in the chest.