June, this year
The basement is warm, well-lit, and fully furnished this time. Strains of music are coming from upstairs, along the creak of footsteps on the floorboards above me. The sliding doors in the basement that lead beneath the deck are slightly open, and a warm breeze drifts in.
There’s someone here. I just need to creep upstairs and out the front before they notice me and I unwittingly scare them.
I scan the basement furniture as I tread lightly towards the stairs, and then stop in my tracks.
That couch.
That looks very much like the Masons’ couch. As in, Frank and Angela’s couch that they had in their basement for years, and is still in Bonnie’s house in my original life. The very same one that Ben was playing guitar on, that first, pivotal moment.
Above it, the kitschy framed print hangs on the wall. “Home is not a place, but a feeling.”
My entire body flushes with goosebumps.
This is clearly still a Mason house. Either Ange and Frank are alive once more, and they live here, or it’s Bonnie’s inherited house again.
Either way, if I’m also friends with Bonnie in this world, it would be a pretty great place to spend some time, after everything I’ve been through. Maybe even stay permanently. No matter what else is going on in that world — no matter who Ben might be with.
My heart soars, as a stray tear slips down my cheek. Even just to rest here for a while . . .
But this might also be a reality where I’m not friends with Bonnie, maybe even never was, and I might be a stranger to all of them. They might have no idea who I am. I need to tread very carefully here.
I reach to check my phone, and realize I’m clutching a bottle of red wine — the same brand I was bringing to Bonnie’s place tonight, in my real life.
Okay. That’s interesting.
I pat down my back pocket and find a phone in a palm-print case, just like the one I have in my own universe.
I flick immediately to Instagram, and there’s a ton of photos of me with Bonnie, and us together with Ben, at his play and at the lake — all scenes I recognize.
I’ve posted these exact photos myself in my own life.
That means I’m in a very similar life to my own.
I blow out a breath. Thank Christ.
Ben is alive.
And we’re all close again here.
I examine the photos further. None of us with Frank or Angela, which must mean this is a world where they are gone once again. So this has to be Bonnie’s house, and she’s upstairs right now. Because someone is definitely in the kitchen.
I check my emails, and both my personal and work inboxes are exactly as I know them. That’s even more reassuring. I still work at Magnolia, and on the same client accounts. I even have the eviction notice from my landlord from earlier today, so that’s an issue in this world, too.
I turn to my text message app to investigate further, and my heart all but stops.
The most recent texts are exactly as I remember my last messages from my real life.
[6:16PM]
Should I get the dim sum ordered?
BONNIE CELL [6:17PM]
You know it! Get the usual, and add the new chicken pot stickers they have. Yum. :P
This seems like the identical situation I was in, back in my original life — about to spend the long weekend with Bonnie, starting with wine and takeout on the deck, and commiserating the loss of my cute apartment.
Am I home? Like, really home?
But I can’t be, right?
Because in that world, in my own world, Bonnie was running late at the store and I was entering her totally empty house, having to let myself in through the basement.
Whereas, in this universe, someone is walking around upstairs.
So I guess this has to be a very similar, but ever-so-slightly different, version of my reality.
Maybe the only difference is that Bonnie’s inventory isn’t late in this world? And everything else could be identical. It’s possible. In which case, this would be as good a reality as any to make my own, on a permanent basis. Still not truly my home, but definitely good enough.
Then again, it’s also possible that this universe has all kinds of differences to mine that I just haven’t discovered yet.
It’s likely, even. And it’s also possible the person upstairs isn’t even Bonnie at all, but a stranger, like maybe she has a boyfriend in this life, and I won’t have any idea what to do — except run away again. Reset, again.
With my pulse pounding in my ears, I make my way quietly up into the kitchen — which is, as expected, painted in rich cream and fitted out in Bonnie’s recent renovation style.
The teal wireless speaker I bought her last Christmas is sitting incongruously on the quartz countertop, playing that Grace Potter song about stars.
But the kitchen is empty now, with the patio doors open and letting the evening breeze waft in. Whoever is here, they’re now out on the deck.
I pause briefly as I catch myself in the mirror near Bonnie’s dining table.
I’m in the exact clothes I was wearing when I drove up to Bonnie’s in my life — a Ramones T-shirt, denim shorts, and retro Converse sneakers.
My hair is styled in its usual slightly wavy, slightly messy bob, with dark-bronze streaks at the front.
I seem like . . . myself. Really like me, for the first time in many universes.
I look myself directly in the eyes, and take a deep, cleansing breath.
“Let’s make this a good one,” I say to the Millie in the mirror.
She stares back at me, and we nod slowly at each other.
I turn and step through the open sliding door onto the deck.
And it’s neither Bonnie, nor a stranger, sitting at the patio table.
It’s Ben.
He turns at the sound of my footfall, and smiles at me, warm and wide. My world falls away.
Oh my God.
I’m so in love with this man.
How in all the worlds did I never fully realize this before?
He’s wearing the blue linen shirt I bought him a few years ago for his thirtieth birthday, the sleeves rolled up, his arms lightly muscled and tanned. His thick hair is the same as when I last saw it, and his dark-blond beard is neat and trim.
He’s looking . . . incredible.
Ben lifts his brows at me, a little quizzically. “You okay? You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”
Oh. I’m staring at him. Probably with an expression like an idiot.
“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. I guess I wasn’t expecting to see you.” I put down the wine I’m still holding, and grab onto the edge of the table for support.
He nods. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure I’d make it this weekend.
I had to figure out some stuff with Shelley — the woman I went on a few dates with?
Anyways, we decided not to keep seeing each other.
It just wasn’t . . . gelling. But then I was at a loose end, and figured I’d head up to the house, since I knew you’d both be here.
” He grins at me. “Thanks for bringing the good red. Bonnie running late? I already opened her bottle of white.”
My legs wobble underneath me, and I slide into a seat as he pours me a glass.
Ben is single again.
“Erm . . . yeah,” I reply, awkwardly. “Yeah, she’ll be on her way, any moment. Something about inventory at the store?” Crap, I really hope this is a world where she has her store, otherwise that will make zero sense.
Thankfully, Ben just nods and hands me the glass of cold wine. “I figured. We should get some food ordered, though, I’m starving.”
My stomach responds to that comment with an audible growl.
Hold up.
Didn’t I already order food? In my original life, before I stepped through the door, I had just ordered an unreasonable quantity of dim sum.
If that delivery is on its way in this world, that’s surely proof that I’m really back.
I pull out my phone and check the delivery app.
The exact same order is showing, still due to arrive at 7:12 p.m.
With a slightly trembling hand, I show Ben the order on my phone. I don’t trust my voice not to betray my emotions.
He nods approvingly, and huffs out a laugh. “Looks delicious. And good thing I’m here to help you out with that — it’s enough for five people.”
I smile back at him, but still can’t find words to say anything aloud.
It’s gradually sinking in.
This is my original life.
I’m really home.
Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.
And I feel, I know, with every part of my being, that I’m home. And that my ultimate realization of what I truly want in life is what brought me back to my real life.
I could cry with joy and relief, right here at the patio table, except I don’t want to freak Ben out. So I control my threatening tears with slow breathing, and let the moment of overwhelm pass.
Ben doesn’t seem to notice my emotional rollercoaster. He’s leaning back in his chair, stemless glass in his hand, smiling gently at me.
“So, how’ve you been since I last saw you . . . when was it? Two weeks ago? Three? It’s been a bit nuts, with the play.”
I almost laugh at this question. How have I been?
Well, I’ve just spent what feels like weeks traveling through the multiverse of my alternate lives — being chased by crazy psychos, being a recovering addict, being a tech billionaire’s partner, being a wife, being a mother . . . So, yeah, it’s been kind of interesting. To say the least.
“Uh, yeah, fine, thanks,” I stammer. “Things are . . . good. I’ve been .
. . err . . .” I flip back mentally to my pre-multiverse week, which seems like a dozen lifetimes ago.
“Oh, I’ve been working on a new ad campaign with Vici.
Since, you know, you’re such a fan of their sneakers, I figured you’d be into that. ”
Ben laughs and nods at his huge, Vici-clad feet through the glass top of the table.
“That’s awesome,” he replies. “Very cool. I like their new high-tops, too. Gotta get some of those.” He leans towards me, with an almost imperceptible wink.
“What’s a guy gotta do to get a friends and family discount? ”