Maybe in Another Life (34 page)

The whole crowd laughs.

“But I didn’t ask her out, because I was a chicken. Three weeks into school, another girl asked me out, and I said yes, because when you’re fifteen and a girl asks you out, you say yes.”

The crowd laughs again.

“Jessica and I dated all through high school, and we broke up senior year. So what do I do? I go right out and find Gabby and ask her out. And we have this great date. And then the
next morning, my ex-girlfriend calls me, and she wants to get back together. And . . . long story short, I married Jessica. Anyway, eventually, Jessica and I split up. We had to split up. We weren’t right for each other. And once I could see that, there was no turning back. So we divorced. And then, a few years later, I get a Facebook request from Gabby Hudson.
The
Gabby Hudson.”

That’s my favorite part. The part where he calls her
the
Gabby Hudson.

“And I get way ahead of myself, and I start Facebook-stalking her and wondering if she’s single and if she’d ever date me, and yada yada yada, the next thing I know, we’re at lunch on the beach in Santa Monica. She refused to let me pay and said going dutch was the most appropriate thing to do. And we started walking back to my car, and I didn’t tell her this then, because I knew it would freak her out, but I felt like I finally understood why people get married again. You get your heart broken, you fail at marriage, you’re not sure you’ll ever be up for it a second time. And then it all clicks into place, and you see that you failed the first time because you picked the wrong person. And now the right person is standing in front of you. So I waited the appropriate amount of months of dating, and then I told her how I felt. And she said she felt the same way. And now we’re getting married. And I’m the luckiest guy alive.”

That’s usually the end of his story, but he keeps talking.

“I was reading a book about the cosmos recently,” he says, and then he looks around and goes, “Hold on, trust me, this relates.”

The crowd laughs again.

“And I was reading about different theories about the universe.
I was really taken with this theory that some very credible physicists believe in called the multiverse theory. And it states that everything that is possible happens. That means that when you flip a quarter, it comes down heads
and
tails. Not heads
or
tails. Every time you flip a coin and it comes up heads, you are merely in the universe where the coin came up heads. There is another version of you out there, created the second the quarter flipped, who saw it come up tails. Every second of every day, the world is splitting further and further into an infinite number of parallel universes, where everything that could happen is happening. There are millions, trillions, or quadrillions, I guess, of different versions of ourselves living out the consequences of our choices. What I’m getting at here is that I know there may be universes out there where I made different choices and they led me somewhere else, led me to
someone
else.” He looks at Gabby. “And my heart breaks for every single version of me that didn’t end up with you.”

Maybe it’s the moment. Maybe it’s the hormones. But I start crying. Gabby catches my eye, and I can see that she’s teary, too. Jesse is done speaking, but no one can turn away. Everyone is staring at Gabby. I know I should do something, but I’m not sure what to do.

“Way to make the rest of us look bad,” Henry says loudly.

The crowd laughs and disperses. I look at him, and he wipes the tears from my eyes.

“I love you as much as that show-off loves her,” he jokes. “I just didn’t watch the same
Nova
special.”

“I know,” I tell him. “I know.” Because I do know. “Do you think that theory is true?” I ask Henry. “Do you think there are versions of us out there who never met?”

“Maybe one where you didn’t get into an accident and you ended up married to a cinnamon roll chef?” he says.

“
Everything that is possible happens . . .”

“Do you wish you were married to a cinnamon roll chef?”

“I certainly wish you were better at making cinnamon rolls,” I say. “But no, this universe is OK with me.”

“You sure? We can try to defy space and time and go find another for you.”

“No,” I tell him. “I like this one. I like you. And her.” I point to my belly. “And Gabby. And Jesse. And Carl and Tina. I’m excited to get my nursing degree. And I’m OK with the fact that sometimes when it rains, my hip aches. Yeah,” I say. “I think I’ll stay.”

“OK,” he says, kissing me. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

He slips off to the bathroom, and I start to head toward Gabby and Tina, standing by the mini-cheesecakes. I’m mostly interested in the mini-cheesecakes, but I am stopped in place behind a linebacker of a man. I ask him to move, but he doesn’t hear me. I am about to give up.

“Sir,” I hear from behind me. “Can she get through?”

The linebacker and I both turn around to see Ethan standing there.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the linebacker says. “I’m a glutton for cheesecake. When I’m in front of it, everything around me is a blur.”

I laugh and fumble through. Ethan steps up with me.

“Six months now?” he asks. He takes a piece of banana cream pie.

“Seven,” I say, taking a piece of cheesecake.

“What is this? No cinnamon rolls for you?”

“It is a nighttime party,” I say. “So it’s OK. But I’ve been eating them pretty much nonstop lately. Henry says you can smell cinnamon in my hair.”

Ethan laughs. “I believe it. I’m sure I told you that after we broke up, I couldn’t smell a cinnamon roll without getting depressed.”

“You never told me that,” I say, laughing. “How long did that last? Until Thanksgiving break?”

He laughs back. “Fair enough,” he says. “It is true, though.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have broken up with me, then,” I tell him.

He guffaws. “You broke up with me, OK?”

“Oh, please,” I say. “Go sell it to somebody else.”

“Well,” he says, “whoever broke up with whom, my heart was broken.”

“Ditto,” I tell him.

“Yeah?” he says, as if this information makes him feel better.

“Are you kidding? I didn’t sleep with anyone else for years afterward, because I kept thinking of you. I bet you can’t say the same.”

He laughs. “No,” he says. “I definitely slept with people. But that’s . . . that didn’t mean anything.”

“I always thought we’d get back together at some point,” I say. “It’s funny how the teenage brain works.”

He shrugs, eating his pie. “Not that funny. I thought it, too. From time to time. I almost . . .”

“What?” I ask.

“When you came back to L.A., right before the accident, I thought maybe . . .”

I think back to that time. That was a rough period. I kept a happy face through all of it. I tried really hard to keep it together, but looking at it now, I think of how heartbreaking it all was. I think of the baby I lost, and I wonder if . . . I wonder if I had to lose that baby to get to where I am now. I wonder if I had to lose that baby to have this one.

“I think I thought maybe, too,” I say.

“Just didn’t work out that way, I guess,” he says.

“I guess not.” I see Henry coming back from the bathroom. I see him stop and talk to Carl. He loves Carl. If we could have a bronze bust of Carl in our living room, he’d do it. “Who knows?” I tell Ethan. “If Jesse’s theory is right, about the universes, maybe there’s one out there where we figured out a way to make it work.”

Ethan laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “Maybe.” He lifts his pie as if to make a toast. I lift my cheesecake to meet it. “Maybe in another life,” he says.

I smile at him and leave him by the dessert table.

I miss my husband.

He’s now standing in a circle with Gabby, Jesse, Carl, and Tina. I join them.

“I see you found the cheesecake,” Gabby says.

“The pregnant lady always finds the cheesecake,” I tell her. “You know that.”

Henry moves closer to me as he continues to talk to Carl. He puts his arm around me. He gives me a squeeze. He opens his mouth wide, and I smile at him. I feed him the cheesecake.

It’s on his face.

“I love you,” he says with his mouth full. I can barely make out the words individually. But there’s no doubt what he said.
He kisses me on the forehead and grazes his hand against my belly.

One Saturday night in my late twenties, I was hit by a car, and that accident led me to marry my night nurse. If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.

So I have to think that while I may exist in other universes, none of them are as sweet as this.

I
am fortunate enough to have more than one Gabby in my life, and for that I am grateful every day. Thank you to Erin Fricker, Julia Furlan, Sara Arrington, and Tamara Hunter for being such phenomenal people and close friends. This book is dedicated to you, because your friendship has kept me going at times when I wasn’t sure I could take another step. And to Bea Arthur, Andy Bauch, Katie Brydon, Emily Giorgio, Jesse Hill, Phillip Jordan, Tim Paulik, Ryan Powers, Jess Reynoso, Ashley and Colin Rodger, Jason Stamey, Kate Sullivan, and all the rest of my incredibly supportive and wonderful friends, I am so lucky to know all of you and have you in my life.

To Carly Watters, the world’s most wonderful agent, I often thank the fates (or mere chance) for bringing me to your blog back in 2012 and driving me to query you. That I got so lucky as to be repped by someone I
like
so much is either the very definition of destiny or a wonderful coincidence. I am equally thankful to Brad Mendelsohn and Rich Green. Thank you, Brad, for understanding me and getting my work the way you do, and Rich, I’m so excited about what we’ve done.

Greer Hendricks, it’s impossible to imagine a universe where you are any more lovely. Thank you for being such a pleasure to talk to and for being so incredibly good at what you do. My
work could not be in better hands. The same goes to Sarah Cantin, Tory Lowy, and the rest of the Atria team.

To the Hanes and Reid families, thank you. To Rose and Warren, Sally and Bernie, Niko and Zach: When I tell my friends how much I love my in-laws, I’m pretty sure they all roll their eyes at me as if I’m a student reminding the teacher that she forgot to assign homework—but I’ll keep saying it until I’m blue in the face. I’m lucky to have married into such a wonderful family. I love you all.

To the Jenkins and Morris families, thank you. To my mother, Mindy, and my brother, Jake, I love you. I am so fortunate to have you in my corner. Thank you for always believing in me and for always being game to talk through ideas about life and humanity.

To my grandmother, Linda, words will never express what you mean to me. I feel humbled just to have known you, let alone to have been so lucky as to be your granddaughter. Thank you for every single moment of our time together. I am who I am because I have grown up trying to make you proud. Consider this my solemn promise to remember to stop and smell the roses.

And finally, to Alex Reid: This book isn’t about us. But there’s one line that I wrote just for you. “I know there may be universes out there where I made different choices and they led me somewhere else, led me to
someone
else. And my heart breaks for every single version of me that didn’t end up with you.”

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