Chapter 3
An hour later, I’m hydrated and made up and ready to go.
My hands are still shaking, and I’m fighting for my life not to give in and smoke a cigarette, which might stop my shaking but most definitely stink up my dress.
My anxiety hasn’t exactly been quelled, but there are sufficient distractions.
The vibes are good. Everyone’s in a great mood.
Today has been the best today yet.
Steph stopped by to visit, and we all fussed over her and danced around the living room. She left floating—the happiest bride.
At some point Luke let slip about Tanya, and I pretended that Ravi had told me in advance and that I was fine with it.
Cass was skeptical about the being fine part, which, fair, and questioned why I never brought it up.
I said she never brought it up, either, and she backed right off.
I changed the subject by asking if she’d known Vicky Moldando was invited, which led to more drinks.
“We all set to go?” Wyatt asks, scratching his neck. Him and that tie. Mortal enemies.
“All set!” Luke says, holding the cabin door open for us. He slaps Cassie’s ass on her way out, and she calls him a pig before making a sexually explicit gesture. Adorable.
“Hold up! I want a picture,” Luke says. We all stop to pose in front of the cabin, and he takes a selfie.
“My phone, too,” Evan says.
I go full goof prima donna, relish this time on the porch with all of us together. Alive and intact, unworried and unserious.
The group starts down the path toward the lake, and I reach for Cassie’s hand. She allows me to take it. I swing our arms like we’re schoolkids.
“We’re gonna get druunkkkkk,” I singsong. “We’re gonna eat fooood.”
She sneaks her vape out of her cleavage and takes a hit. “I love this track.”
“Just wait for the club remix,” I say.
Luke takes a deep breath.
“Do not start beatboxing, so help me God,” Cassie says.
Luke deflates.
“You can beatbox?” Wyatt asks sweetly, with genuine wonder—he’s such a big teddy bear.
The live music sweeps across the lawn. I resist the urge to say something snarky about the husband-and-wife duo.
They’re talented. They’re valiantly contributing to the ambiance.
As awkward as it is when they make eyes at each other, I think it’d be more awkward without them.
Just a chorus of chatter and chewing and clanking glasses.
“It’s so beautiful,” I say, as we approach the cocktail area.
Because it is, and it was impossible for me to truly appreciate it until this moment, too preoccupied with nerves, with fear.
I’m still nervous, still afraid, but I’m used to it by now, so I’m able to take a minute to swoon over the charmingly mismatched vintage couches and chairs and high cocktail tables topped with mini lanterns and the mobile bar operating out of a restored retro silver Airstream.
“Do you think we should hijack the traveling bar?”
“Luke, get the van,” Evan says.
As we approach the floral arches, I’m again struck by the intensity of the smell. It’s like I’m snorting potpourri.
“Okay, Wills,” Cassie says. “You ready?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. These flowers are really…potent. Right? Is it just me?”
“You’ve been back in New Jersey for how long and already—” Evan starts.
“Don’t insult my home state. It can be trashy but it doesn’t smell like trash,” I say. “And answer my question. Please.”
He shrugs. “This is what ten thousand dollars’ worth of flowers smells like.”
“Ten thousand?” Luke asks.
“Shush,” Cassie says, gently elbowing him.
“At least,” Wyatt says.
Ravi stands in the center arch, a manicured hand stroking the back of his neck, pretty fingers winding through his curls. Tanya.
I could go over now. Maybe I should. Maybe a polite hello would fix everything, set it all right. You haven’t exactly been friendly, either, Ravi said when I confronted him about giving me the cold shoulder. He asked me to give him time.
All I have is today.
“You sure you’re okay? Should we get a drink?” Cassie asks, tugging on my hand.
“Um…yeah. Let’s do that.” What difference does it make, really, if I have a drink before the polite hello?
—
The hour gets away from me. A drink turns into two.
Our clique sequesters on a set of couches; we talk among ourselves.
I lose track of Ravi and Tanya, where they are in the crowd.
I spot Danny arriving late, getting swept into the sea of guests.
Vicky and Olivia having what is likely the most insufferable conversation of all time—probably about Italy.
I’m about to let myself off the hook when there he is. Alone. At the bar.
Ravi.
He hasn’t seen me in weeks, but I saw him a today ago.
What do I have to lose?
I slink away from my friends without saying a word.
I walk over to the bar, my hands still shaking, my legs unsteady.
My body holds every today inside it, the experiences remaining in the ache of my muscles, enduring in the way my shoulders meet my ears, my posture defensive, my senses on high alert. I slow my breathing and try to relax.
Ravi turns. He sees me.
I see you.
I swear, time stops.
Tick, tock.
His voice in my head, as the zombies beat down the door.
There are no other timelines. No alternate universes. There’s only this.
I look up, and for a split second, the sky goes dark.
Get out of my head. Let me go. Let me go.
“Hi. I’m Willa,” I say, reaching out to shake his hand.
He stares at my hand, furrows his brow.
“I’m trying to break the tension with a bit,” I say.
“This is a bit?”
“I’m reintroducing myself.”
“No, I get it. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“Not a good bit.”
“Jeez, tough crowd.”
“Sorry. Appreciate the attempt.”
“It’s cool. It’s fine,” I say.
“You want a drink?”
“What are you having?”
“The Jace,” he says. “Signature drink. It’s a Manhattan.”
“Um…”
Ravi turns to the bartender. “A whiskey sour, please.”
“Thank you.” I bow my head. “How are you?”
“I’m doing well,” he says. Generic and rigid but not unpleasant. “You?”
I consider lying, but I don’t think the universe would approve. “I’m actually stuck in a pretty gnarly time loop. But other than that…also not great. It’s all right. I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says. “Sincerely. I am.”
“Thanks, Ravi.”
“I’ll confess, don’t quite get the time loop bit.”
“Two failed bits in a row. See? Not great.” The bartender sets our drinks down on the counter. Ravi tips him. “Thanks.”
“Cheers,” he says, passing me my glass.
“What are we cheers-ing?”
“I do not know.”
“I’ll cheers to that.” We clink glasses. Sip in silence.
“Ravi, I hope it’s okay I came over here. I know it’s still…still weird. And painful. It is for me, at least. But I hope someday we can find a way to be…if not friends, not strangers.”
He tilts his head back and downs his drink, then he looks at me. Really looks. He sees me. “I’m glad. Glad that you came over here. And I hope that, too. I just…”
“Time. More time. I know.”
He nods. “I should, um, get back to…”
“Yeah. She is very hot, Ravi. Obnoxiously hot,” I say, and he laughs. “She seems lovely. I’m happy for you.”
“I didn’t know if I should tell you or not. I’ve been second-guessing…” He shakes his head. “I should have told you.”
“It’s fine.” It’s not. Or it wasn’t, but it is now.
“You know, it’s funny you mentioned a time loop.
Tanya’s tripping out because she just realized she used to come here as a kid, back when it was still a camp.
They changed the name, I guess. She said one summer she got so sick that she became convinced she was living the same day repeatedly, like a time loop.
That’s what first piqued her interest in physics. ”
Whiskey sour shoots out of my nose. “Wait. What?”
“She’s a physics teacher at a charter school in DC. Has me reading Stephen Hawking.”
I search the crowd for Tanya and find her looking back at me. She excuses herself from conversation and crosses the lawn toward us.
“Have fun tonight, Rav,” I say, turning around and hurrying away before her arrival, before I’m forced to interact.
I need a minute to process.
Is this tonight’s horror? That my ex-fiancé’s new girlfriend might be able to help me? Might be the only one who can help me?
“How’d that go?” Evan asks when I arrive back at the couches.
“Um. I lived.”
“Good for you,” he says.
The pianist plays her jaunty tune, and I chug my drink, nearly choking on the cocktail cherry.
“On behalf of Stephanie and Jason, we welcome you to this celebration of their love. If you would please make your way to the lake and find a seat, the ceremony will begin shortly. Thank you.”
“I was convinced she was about to wrap it up with jazz hands,” Evan says, a little too loud.
I find the nearest end table and set my glass down beside a small flower arrangement in a mason jar.
Pretty pink roses and baby’s breath. The rose petals contract, curl inward, then suddenly expand, like it’s blossoming right before my eyes.
Like it’s breathing. The pistil wobbles, moves back and forth, back and forth—a tiny pendulum, or wagging tongue.
It’s a strange motion, but before I can fully comprehend the gravity of its strangeness it’s over. The roses hold still.
“We should head over now,” I say to my friends, turning away from the roses. “Make sure we get good seats.”