3. Talia #3
The right corner of Sam’s mouth twitched. It was a nearly imperceptible tell that Talia knew meant he was caught off guard and trying to size up the situation.
She waited.
He didn’t say anything.
Talia tightened her interlaced fingers against one another.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “Can I take a look at the watch?”
“Of course.” In fact, Talia was eager for Sam’s opinion on it. He was one of the most brilliant people she knew—he’d double-majored in physics and philosophy in college—and he had long been her most reliable sounding board. She snapped open the silver clasp and handed the watch to him.
Sam turned it over in his hand, inspecting it closely. He spent several minutes squinting at the crown and its little arrows while being careful not to move the dial.
“How do you think it works?” Talia asked.
He made a clicking sound with his tongue, the Sam signal for thinking. “Um, how much sleep have you gotten, Tal? You’ve been working so hard leading up to this acquisition.”
“You don’t believe me!”
“Talia—”
But she snatched the watch back from him and turned the crown, winding the hands on the dial back to the moment when she’d finished her recap.
This time, instead of putting her hands in her lap and waiting quietly for Sam’s response, she said, “Before you say anything, give me a second to write something down.”
She ran over to her desk, grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, and scribbled down a few lines. Then she folded the paper in half and brought it back with her to the couch.
“Okay. I’m done. So… yeah. That was my last day. Or more, technically, because I did it twice?”
She folded her hands in her lap and waited for his response.
The right corner of Sam’s mouth twitched as he tried to size up the situation.
She waited.
He didn’t say anything.
Talia tightened her interlaced fingers against one another.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “Can I take a look at the watch?”
“Of course.”
Talia gave him time to inspect it. Then she asked, “How do you think it works?”
He made that clicking, thinking sound again—or, rather, for the first time. “Um, how much sleep have you gotten, Tal? You’ve been working so hard leading up to this acquisition.”
She nodded. “I understand why you’d say that. But read this, then tell me if you reconsider.” Talia handed him the piece of paper.
Sam unfolded it, and a second later, his eyes went wide.
This is what she’d written:
Here is the conversation we’re about to have:
Me: So… yeah. That was my last day. Or more, technically, because I did it twice?
You: Can I take a look at the watch?
Me: Of course.
Me, after you’ve had time to scrutinize the watch: How do you think it works?
You: Um, how much sleep have you gotten, Tal? You’ve been working so hard leading up to this acquisition.
Sam swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the effort. He refolded the paper and gave it back to Talia while shaking his head. “H-how is this possible?”
She looked down at the watch in his hands. “Because I made a wish at 11:11, I guess.”
He didn’t say a word.
Then, still in shock, he passed the watch back to her.
“It allowed me to save a life, Sam.”
He gathered her in his arms. “I don’t know how that watch can do what it did, but… I’m sorry you had to go through that, Tal.”
“So you believe me?” she said, muffled against his chest.
“I kind of have to, given the evidence, as nonsensical as this seems. But even if you were losing your mind, I’d be here for you.” He tightened his hug.
“I’m just so relieved I could undo it. I don’t even care how it worked. Just that it did.”
When they broke apart, though, Sam’s brow furrowed.
“What?” Talia asked.
“I just realized… it’s not a one-time thing. Your watch didn’t limit you to rewinding only once, for the purpose of stopping the Tinder date from happening, even though that was the intent of your wish. You just rewound now so you could replay our conversation and prove to me that it was real.”
Talia’s jaw dropped. “Huh, I guess you’re right. I didn’t even think about that—I wonder how much I can use it.”
Now that the serious consequences of a murder had been undone, she allowed herself to think of lighter possibilities of the watch.
It would be like everyone’s dream come true—the ability to go back in time and say all the witty things you thought of three hours after a fight.
To undo spilling coffee on your blouse right before the meeting with your boss when you were going to ask for a promotion.
To rewind and get a few more hours of sleep.
“Who knows?” Sam said. “Maybe the watch will just disappear. Maybe it’ll vanish after tonight’s celebration, like a twenty-four-hour Cinderella–fairy godmother wish that served its purpose. But if it’s still here tomorrow…”
“Think about how productive I could be,” Talia said. “I could optimize each day by analyzing it, then going back and doing it again but more efficiently. I could get twice as much done.”
He laughed. “That’s such a Talia thing to say.” Then his smile fell away. “But hey, Tal, promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“This watch has the potential for manipulating people for personal gain—”
“I would never!”
“I know, I know,” Sam said. “I just had to bring it up. But also…” He picked at a loose thread on the sofa.
“What is it?”
He looked up and held her gaze. “Promise me you’ll tell me if you rewind and accidentally do something that changes my life. And promise me you won’t change my life on purpose.”
Talia took his hands in hers. “I promise, Sam.”