Chapter Nine #2
“To be honest, my mom was a little worried about you going so far for college. You were so timid in high school. But it’s been nice seeing you come into your own.
Parker, on the other hand,” he casts a quick glance at his younger brother.
“I don’t think he ever adjusted—to football or the rest of it. ”
Once he finishes with the dishes, Parker and I go upstairs to his room.
He’s on his laptop, monitoring game footage.
I’m on the bed, flipping through an old manga that I found between his desk and headboard.
I can’t concentrate on the climactic fight scene because I’m still thinking about what Nathan said.
What did he mean, Parker hasn’t adjusted?
I thought football had taken up all his focus and that things were looking up, but is there more to it?
Is Parker falling behind in his classes?
If that’s the case, why hasn’t he told me?
Then I note that he hasn’t made a sound for the last fifteen minutes, except for the occasional mouse click. I glance to check that he’s breathing.
“Nervous about your team ranking?”
“Yes and no. I mean, obviously I want us to be the conference champs, but I also feel like if I don’t get to play, then nothing I do will affect the outcome anyway.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been to any of your games yet.
I know I said I would, but things got really busy after I joined the student newspaper, and then there were final exams.” As I try to explain, I’m aware that it sounds like I’m just making excuses.
Even Nathan found the time to travel from Philly to watch Parker play.
“I did watch a few games on TV, though, whenever I could.”
“It’s fine. It’s not like you can fly in when I don’t even have a game schedule. If I was a starter, it’d be different,” he sighs and shuts his laptop. “Maybe next year. Then I’ll send you an actual invite.”
“Once you become a starter,” I amend. “Promise?”
“I promise.” Parker moves to the foot of the bed and lies down.
His long legs hang over the side, and he folds his hands over his abdomen.
The sumptuous banquet from hours ago must be catching up to him, because he’s two slow blinks from falling asleep.
Not wanting to disturb, I lean against the headboard, picking up the manga again.
“Hey, Dani.”
“Hm?”
“Do you think you’ll stay in New York after graduating?”
Where did that come from? I look at him, but he’s facing the ceiling. Setting the manga aside, I sprawl out on the bed so we’re lying side by side. “I’m not sure. It makes sense to stay if I actually pursue some kind of writing career.”
“But you like it there, right? More than Silverpine?”
“Hard to say. They’re such different places.
” I stare up at the ceiling fan, its steadily rotating blades lulling me to calm.
Or maybe it’s the familiar heat when Parker’s shoulder brushes mine.
The more pertinent question is where he will end up after graduation.
He could get drafted by any NFL team, which means the entire country is his oyster.
“Have you ever thought about parallel worlds?”
“Um, can’t say that I have.”
“It’s just that, if the theory’s true, and there are multiple universes, then that means within them, there’s an infinite number of possibilities too. It’s kind of cool, right?”
My fascination with parallel worlds must’ve started with Alice slipping into the rabbit hole. To my impressionable younger self, the idea of Wonderland opened my imagination to all kinds of hypotheticals.
“Sometimes I think of us in those other worlds, what we’re up to. Maybe in one of them, you play for the Jets, and you end up in New York too.”
“You think about different universes?”
“I do. After my parents’ divorce, I used to imagine other worlds where they stayed married. Like how things would be different if my mom was around.”
He’s quiet at first. “Do you ever miss her?”
“Sometimes. But I was so young when she left, I can’t really remember what it was like when the three of us lived together. I even catch myself forgetting about her, and I feel bad about it afterward.”
“Does that mean you don’t imagine those universes anymore?”
“Not so much,” I admit. “I realized something. If she hadn’t left, we wouldn’t have sold the old house. And that would mean . . .”
“I wouldn’t have met you,” he says contemplatively. “Then that means there’s a universe where we don’t know each other.”
For fear of dampening the mood, I clap my hands together and say with authority, “Let’s go over the New York plan again.”
“Grand Central Terminal, by the information booth in the main concourse,” he recites from memory. “Could you have picked a busier meeting spot?”
“It’s easier this way. It’ll be your first time visiting, and it’s a big city, bigger than what you’re used to. You won’t get lost if you’re going where everyone else is going.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to get lost.”
“Fine, fine.” I nudge his leg with my foot. “But you’ll call me as soon as you land?”
He nudges me back. “I’ll call you.”
As planned, I’m at Grand Central Terminal on Christmas Eve.
I’ve timed my arrival to align with Parker’s, provided he follows my detailed directions to take the AirTrain from JFK to Jamaica station and then transfer to the LIRR.
Factoring in the holiday rush and buffer time for getting lost, he should still be here soon and hopefully in one piece.
An hour passes. Was his flight delayed? The airline’s website shows otherwise. Arrivals are—surprisingly—on time. I shoot him a text, hoping he’s got service by now.
Me: Did you get lost?
Two hours pass without a reply, and all I can do is pace nervously around the information booth.
My calls go straight to voicemail, and my frantic texts go unanswered.
I try his house in Silverpine in case C? has heard from him, but she tells me what I already know: Parker left his dorm for the airport hours ago.
Thousands of faces pass in the main concourse, and I search each one in vain.
I wait another hour for a call that never comes.
At the four-hour mark, I return to campus alone.
Marisa isn’t at the dorm when I get back. She’s long gone by now, en route to Houston to spend the holidays with her parents. On my desk is a box of Levain cookies and a note in her handwriting: For you and your “friend”! Merry Xmas, Marisa.
I’m reminded of the holiday pastries at Pine Street Bakehouse back in Silverpine and the Christmas market I attended without Mom all those years ago. My chest feels like it’s caving in.
Methodically, I pick up my phone to search his flight status again. The text on the page hasn’t changed since the first time I checked, a hundred refreshes ago. No cancellation, no delays. He should be in the city by now. Should I call Nathan? Or try C? again?
A notification lights up the screen, and I nearly drop my phone.
Parker: Sorry. I won’t be coming to NY.
Me: Is everything okay? What happened?
Parker: Change of plans.
It feels like a part of me has been torn out and dropped at my feet.
That’s it? After waiting all afternoon—my calls screened, my texts ignored—he’s just had a change of plans?
I wonder if this is all a dumb prank, and Parker is actually outside my door wearing a stupid grin.
I even check, only to feel crestfallen once more when I’m met with an empty hallway.
A tightness builds up in my throat. My eyes burn with tears, but I hold them back just long enough to tap the call icon next to his name.
But he’s turned off his phone.
I’m not going to reach him, I realize with dread. He’s not coming.
Dani: Can you at least tell me why?
I send the text before curling up in bed, and I wait, as I’ve done all day. Pressing the covers against my face, my head throbs with the kind of pressure that forms when you try not to cry. I set my phone next to my pillow, in case I fall asleep and it rings.
But it doesn’t.