Chapter 6
SIX
I’m too annoyed to stay in Coolum, so I drive back to my home in Shell Beach and throw myself on the couch.
It’s a Sunday, so I can’t even call the lawyer to find out what the letter is about.
But I really am curious to find out who died and left something to both me and Jarvis.
I’m not the kind of person to get completely carried away by fantasies—I’ve well and truly learned my lesson in the past by getting too caught up in things that turned out not to be what they seemed—so I don’t expect I’ve been left thousands of dollars by some secret rich relative twice removed.
Agh. Now I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s a precious weekend day, but my equilibrium is ruined.
I can’t focus on anything other than what the letter means and my encounter with Jarvis.
And then my eyes are involuntarily drawn to the kitchen counter, where the box of compound still sits.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to use it again, but it would kind of be the perfect distraction to keep me occupied for a few hours.
And maybe I can learn more about Frankie.
He hasn’t responded to the message I sent, so perhaps I should confront him in 1999.
His mum said he’d be back today, and since we hadn’t met at that stage, I can grill him without him potentially lying.
I don’t know exactly where he’ll be and when, so it might take some time to track him down.
I go over to the box and look inside. The longest duration on any of the jars is twelve hours.
It’s not long past 9am now, so I should wake up again at 9pm.
And I guess if I want to return early, I can just find a way to knock myself out.
I laugh out loud at the absurdity of the situation. Who does this kind of thing to avoid worrying about a douchey ex-husband?
Apparently me, that’s who.
I mix up a dose of the twelve-hour compound and go to my bedroom. It occurs to me that I should probably ask Kurt and Anna a few more details about this stuff before taking it again, but I figure if they turned out okay after ingesting it multiple times, it can’t be too bad.
After gulping down the purple liquid, I wait for it to take effect.
The familiar spinning kicks in and then suddenly stops.
I inhale, and my lungs fill with water.
Holy shit.
What is happening?
I open my eyes, and it takes a moment to realise I’m underwater.
Since I have no idea where I am, I panic.
I don’t remember ever having a near-drowning experience, but this feels like one right now.
It’s okay, Rachel. You’re a strong swimmer. Even though you can feel what appears to be an ocean current, you’ll be fine.
I tentatively reach down with my feet and am relieved to find the bottom. A smooth sandy foundation. I push up and break the surface of the water.
Phew.
Except I don’t have time to catch my breath before a huge wave bears down on me.
Before I have a chance to cough up the water I swallowed, a curtain of pressure shoves me under again.
I’ve always loved the beach, but I’m not a fan of big waves. Maybe I was when I was younger, but these days, I stay out of the water when the surf is any bigger than waist height.
It feels like the wave will never clear, and I’m unable to push back to the surface.
But then a hand grabs my arm and pulls me up.
This time, there’s a gap before the next wave, and it’s much smaller than the previous one. I take a moment to spit out any excess water and take a few deep breaths before looking at my saviour.
I do a double take.
It’s Frankie.
This scenario never happened in the original 1999. I’m sure I would have remembered.
“Are you okay?” he asks, worry etched in his brow.
“Yes, thank you. That last wave caught me off guard.”
“I’ll help you in. I saw you take a while to resurface a moment ago, and I worried you were struggling.”
I don’t resist as he gently tugs me toward the shore, and I admire his smooth skin and toned biceps. His hair is exactly how I remember: like Ethan Hawke’s in Reality Bites.
“Sorry to inconvenience you,” I say.
“Don’t be silly. I used to be a lifeguard at the Shell Beach surf club, so I know what to look for. This kind of thing is second nature.”
“I appreciate it.” I don’t know if I remember Frankie telling me he’d been a lifeguard in his youth. He was always so pale, and we didn’t go to the beach together very often, so I assumed he was an indoor person.
And then I think about how he must have just returned from Sydney. “Have I interrupted your swim? I hope you didn’t just get in the water.”
“Actually, I flew back from Sydney a couple of hours ago, and I came straight here. I like to ground myself with the sand and water after a flight, but I’ve had enough now.”
We reach the beach, and I collapse on my back, facing the sky. “I’m sorry I ruined your day.”
Frankie sits beside me. “You didn’t ruin it. How could I possibly complain about getting to spend time with a beautiful girl?”
I blush. This is why I second guessed leaving the guy.
“Were you in Sydney for a holiday?”
“Not exactly. I’m trying to secure work as a film reviewer.”
“Ah. And did you succeed?”
He frowns. “No. I scored an interview through a buddy, but it seems like the guy who would be my boss wanted to hire one of his friends instead.”
“That’s a shame.”
“I think I need higher connections than what I have.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll get another opportunity soon.”
And then I wonder why I’m consoling him. That job is the whole reason we’re no longer together.
“Thanks, but I’m wondering if I should maybe just give up and do something more practical.”
When I met Frankie, he was a rental property manager at a local real estate agent. I can’t remember when he started there, though.
“Like becoming a real estate agent?” I say lightly.
He stares at me. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. I’m currently working as a property manager, but it’s a set wage, and I’ve seen what the agents do. I think I’d be just as good.”
“I’m sure you would.” Frankie always had a way with words.
But I know he didn’t pursue that line of work within the next year.
I wonder if he received any follow-up information from his friend in Sydney that made him cling to the reviewer dream.
I never saw his name listed as a real estate agent anywhere either, so I’m not sure he ever pursued that path.
He looks like he’s about to stand up, but I don’t want him to leave yet. “You’re a bit of a movie buff, huh?”
He nods. “Yes, but it seems like it might just have to remain as a hobby for now.”
“What’s your favourite film? I love Strange Days.”
His mouth falls open. “Strange Days is your favourite movie?”
“One of.” I wonder if I’ve made it too obvious. But then of course, there’s no way Frankie would ever guess I was time travelling. Although, I suppose he could think I was stalking him.
“I love Strange Days too! It’s one of those films you can watch over and over and discover something new each time. What is it about the movie you like?”
I actually didn’t mind the movie, and I try to remember something Frankie used to say about it. “I like the dystopian aesthetic. And the characterisation was done well.”
He continues to gaze at me in awe. “I thought exactly the same thing. Hey, what do you think of James Cameron’s other films?”
I almost start talking about Avatar and then realise it hasn’t been released yet.
And I know Frankie hated Titanic—although he didn’t complain about the evening I pretended to be Rose.
“Apart from Strange Days, Terminator 2 is my next favourite of his movies. I think the message of not allowing technology to get out of hand will become more important in the future.”
He covers his mouth with his hand. “I swear you are reading my brain right now. You’re not like Arnold Schwarzenegger coming from the future to warn me about a T-1000 out to kill me, are you?”
He chuckles at his own joke, and I almost forget to laugh too.
I put on a suitably serious expression. “Maybe I am. But instead of warning you about the T-1000, I’m letting you know you’ll face the choice in a year’s time whether to accept a second chance at that film review position or stay with the woman you’ve just married. ”
Okay. I definitely said too much just then. I should have checked with Anna and Kurt whether telling people in the past stuff that hasn’t happened yet affects their timeline. But maybe they wouldn’t know.
Frankie wrinkles his nose. “What kind of scenario is that? You think I’m going to marry a woman I haven’t met yet and then leave her, all within the space of the next year?”
“It’s possible.” And then I realise I don’t want to traumatise the guy too much. “But this is all obviously a weird construct I just made up in my brain. Don’t take it seriously.”
“I wasn’t going to. For a start, I’m not the kind of person to marry on impulse. And secondly, I wouldn’t leave my new wife for a job. That doesn’t make any sense. I’d take her with me.”
“What if she didn’t want to go?”
“I would have thought we’d have that discussion long before it got to a point where I just ditched her.”
My thoughts exactly, I think bitterly.
“Well, just keep that in mind if you do happen to face that situation in the future.” I figure if this timeline continues after I wake up, maybe the alternative version of me will have an easier time.
Although, since I’ve now met Frankie, our future original meet-cute won’t happen the same way.
I won’t be a stranger anymore. Except the other version of me might not know who he is unless she assimilates today’s events.
Will that completely weird them both out?
And what about when Frankie does get the job offer again next year?
Originally, I had thought a version of time travel that doesn’t change my future would be quite simple, but in some ways it’s more complicated.
Frankie looks at his watch. “Crap. I have to go. I promised my mum I’d go to the shops for her.”
I wonder if that’s true, or if he now wants to get away from the strange girl lecturing him on not letting down his future wife.
But interestingly, I feel as though I’ve had enough of Frankie for now too. Yes, I was hoping to see him today and stay distracted from a certain other male in my life, but now that I’m here, I don’t think I made the right decision.
“I have to go too,” I say. “But thanks so much for helping me out in the surf. I dread to think what would have happened if you weren’t there.”
“It’s all good.” He stands again. “I might see you around.”
I wave. “Maybe.”
He leaves, and I shake my head. I’ve been here less than an hour. What was I thinking, taking a twelve-hour compound? Should I waste the rest and go jump off a cliff? I’d have to find somewhere secluded so I don’t traumatise anyone who sees me.
Did I drive here? Maybe if I knew where my towel and bag were, I could check if I brought my car keys.
I search the nearby sand to see if I can spot anything familiar.
Oh! There’s that patent-leather handbag! Phew.
I hurry over and wrap myself in the towel beside it. I then search the contents of my bag and pull out what looks like a new Nokia 5110. I think this was my first mobile phone. I’m not even sure I’d remember how to use it.
I can’t see any car keys, so it seems I either walked or caught public transport to get here.
Hmm…
I might have to delay the plan to off myself for now.