Chapter Fifty-Five
We get fresh coffees and a plate of pastries and take a seat towards the back of the café where it’s quieter.
‘So everything in the email is true, about who you are?’ he asks, his voice level, but with the merest hint of interest colouring the edges.
‘Yes.’ I don’t elaborate. I can see from the twitch at the corner of his mouth that he wants to say more, that he has a million and one questions. I need him to get the bug of curiosity without me pushing him.
‘And in these other worlds, you and I are friends?’
‘Kind of.’
He raises an eyebrow and the look hits me like a dart to the heart.
He is still my Tyler, the same Tyler who’s been at my side the whole way through this journey.
Even if he’s wearing a very sensible button-down shirt and chinos.
An outfit my Tyler wouldn’t wear even ironically.
This Tyler looks like a teacher. Not that I can criticize him; he is a teacher.
And let’s be honest, he’s making the look work for him.
‘We were rivals. I used to call you my nemesis.’
‘Nemesis, eh?’
‘It was a misunderstanding. Then we figured it out and then we were … friends, yeah. Friends.’ I don’t tell him about the kissing, about the longing, about that night in New York where we very nearly … I clear my throat. None of that matters.
‘And why exactly was a teacher your nemesis?’
‘You were different in my world. Not a teacher. You were ambitious and driven and oh the things you achieved.’
‘You think being a teacher is less than that?’
‘Well … no … I mean …’ I don’t know what to say.
‘Was I happy?’
‘I don’t know.’ I never even thought to ask the question.
‘Exactly.’
I change the subject and move back to the problem at hand. ‘I need to find a way home.’
He nods and takes a sip of his coffee. ‘So. I have a few questions.’ He flashes me a small smile. ‘They might be kind of personal.’
‘Fire away.’
‘Right.’ He clears his throat. Just how personal is he about to get? ‘Why aren’t you freaking out?’
I open my mouth to speak and then close it again.
He never asked me this before, but it’s a very good question.
Why aren’t I freaking out? ‘I guess I am. Like, inside. But …’ I pause.
My dad’s words ring in my ears. ‘My father has this saying. About how you shouldn’t worry about the things you can’t change—’
‘Because you can’t change them?’
‘Exactly! And you shouldn’t worry about the things you can change …’
I wait for him to cut in, but he doesn’t, a blank expression on his face.
‘Because,’ I continue, ‘you should just get off your arse and fix them.’
Tyler grins. ‘Not a bad motto to live by,’ he says.
‘So that’s why I’m not having like a proper freak-out. What good would it do? It wouldn’t magic things back to normal.’ I wave my hand around me as if to say that this is not normal.
‘So you’re trying to fix it?’
‘I’m a scientist. This is a puzzle to be solved. But I need you to help me.’
‘Why me?’ he asks, and the question seems genuine. He’s not asking for me to stroke his ego, he’s asking because he genuinely can’t understand why I would want his assistance.
‘You’re a genius.’
He scoffs.
‘You are. I mean, it’s not an opinion, it’s a fact.’
‘In your world, maybe.’ He runs his hand through his hair. The same thing he does when he’s embarrassed.
‘In every world.’ I meet his eyes, hoping the gravity in my tone will sink in and make this Tyler believe in himself. I need him at the top of his game.
His eyes break away from mine and he clears his throat. ‘Okay.’ His words are soft. ‘Tell me everything.’
I tell him about Bethany’s machine, the one she used to send her consciousness out into the other universes. I tell him how Amina’s attempts to bring this Bethany back have pulled me through instead.
‘So she’s in your world, and you’re here?’ he clarifies.
‘Oh. Ooohhh.’ I hadn’t thought of it like that. Is that what’s happened? Is this Bethany in my world? ‘You think we just ended up swapped?’
‘It’s the most logical conclusion.’
He’s right, it is. But then I think of my other theory, the one where other Bethanys were in worlds almost identical to their own, but with just one or two tiny things out of place.
‘The other Bethanys, the ones whose lives I skipped through, some of them thought they might be out of place too. One of them had scribbled a note in a journal that said “this isn’t me”.
One thought their shoes should have been matt instead of patent.
Shiny,’ I add for clarification as I see the same look of confusion another Tyler wore when I talked about the Louboutins.
I feel like I’m testing him, trying to see what conclusion he might draw and if he might add more insight to my own theories.
‘Hmmm.’ He stares at his coffee, deep in thought. ‘You mentioned that the worlds you skipped through had bigger and bigger variations to your home world.’
‘It was like the thing that made the world different to mine was something that had happened further and further back in my timeline.’
‘Branching world.’ He nods a few times. ‘It’s an interesting theory.’ He sips his drink. ‘So, what if as this Bethany was travelling forwards, she was displacing the other yous. Like they were all shifting a tiny bit to make space for her?’
I stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate.
He pulls a battered notebook from his bag. I catch a glimpse of the cover. He-Man. ‘A gift from one of my students,’ he says when he sees me looking. Then he flips it open and starts to sketch.
‘So. This is this world.’ He draws a blob to the far left of the page, right in the middle. ‘And this is yours.’ He draws another blob on the far right. ‘And you have skipped how many times? Twenty?’
‘Nineteen,’ I confirm.
He marks a number of points across the page between the two points.
‘So these are the worlds you skipped through. And each one represents a point on a continuum between this world and yours. Now then, if this Bethany managed to leap all the way from here to your universe –’ he draws a curve between the left and right blobs – ‘she wakes up in your world. Right?’
‘Yep. Lucky me,’ I say with more than a hint of sarcasm. ‘That she landed in my world and not in another Bethany’s, I mean.’
‘So what happens to you?’
‘I started skipping.’
‘No.’ He raises a finger and I can see why he makes such a fantastic teacher. ‘That only happens because your friend starts messing with things.’
‘She was trying to help.’ I feel indignant on Amina’s behalf.
He ignores me. He’s on a roll and so he continues.
‘No, you shuffle.’ He marks a series of tiny points between the blob of my world and the first time I skipped and knew it.
‘We have no way of knowing how many worlds exist on this continuum, but it’s not ludicrous to think it’s more than the nineteen you skipped through.
’ He draws a ring around the first mark he made next to my world.
‘This is where you go. And every other Bethany, the dozens, or hundreds, or thousands, or millions …’ he glances up as he looks at me, his voice taking on an ethereal quality as if he’s finally realized just how big the universe might be and it horrifies and fascinates him in equal measure ‘… all the other Bethanys shuffle too. Just a tiny skip. Most of them wouldn’t even realize it had happened.
There might be one tiny difference, one small thing they can dismiss as a dream, or a missed memory, or stress, or having one glass of wine too many. ’
‘But then I start skipping,’ I say, taking the pen from his hand to add a curved arrow between the larger blobs on the page.
‘And every time you do, the other Bethanys shuffle again.’
‘But back the other way. Back to where they belong.’ I look up at him. ‘So everyone is home.’
‘Except you. And the Bethany from this world.’
‘And none of them even realize,’ I say. Except … ‘This Bethany spent six weeks in a coma. Six weeks between her jump and me arriving. So … if we all just shuffled along …’
Tyler visibly shudders. ‘The Bethany here …’ he taps the paper just to the right of the blob representing this world ‘… was the one in the coma.’
‘And a week ago she just woke up back in her real life.’ The very idea makes me feel sick. What is going through her mind right now? How is she explaining the situation to herself, reconciling the huge blank space where the last six weeks should have been?
Tyler thinks quietly for a few moments, his hand reaching as if of its own accord towards the pastries.
He shreds one into smaller pieces. But then he spots me watching and his cheeks flare red.
‘Sorry …’ he says self-consciously, covering his mouth with his hand.
His eyes glitter. This is my Tyler, the one who I have learned to trust in every universe.
Although I do wish I didn’t find watching him eat a fucking croissant quite so appealing.
Now is not the time or the place for those kinds of thoughts.
‘You know …’ he says eventually, brushing the crumbs from his thighs – ahh, why am I thinking about his thighs?
– ‘the answer is kind of staring at us in the face.’ He sounds matter-of-fact.
Actually, he sounds like the same old arrogant Tyler Adams I’ve met in every other world.
It’s almost endearing how easily he has pulled the cloak of his genius around his shoulders and settled into this new role like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.
I think about his comment, that he is happy in this world and perhaps the other Tylers weren’t.
But seeing him now, I can see how much he loves to feel like he’s the cleverest person in the room.
He’s relishing this. This is the Tyler he was born to be.
But I keep that thought to myself and instead spread my hands out. ‘Perhaps you could enlighten me then.’
He shrugs, like it’s nothing, like he’s about to solve everything without even breaking a sweat and it’s all just child’s play to him. ‘You just do exactly what this world’s Bethany did.’
I pause with my cup of practically cold coffee halfway to my lips. Because of course he’s right. The answer is so obvious I never even considered it.