Time After Time (9 page)

Before I even open my eyes, a cold breeze slaps me in the face. I’m expecting clouds and fog, but when I look up at the sky, I find it bright blue and cloudless. I peek out from behind the side of Maggie’s house and see the sun is shining bright on her tomato garden.

I’ve been stumped about how and
where
to return. It was one thing when I was living here, coming and going every day, but now it feels weird to show up and just let myself in the front door as if this were my home, even though Maggie gave me a key and told me to use it. I’m not looking forward to telling her who I am and what I can do, but it would sure be nice to come back here without having to worry about my arrival giving my grandmother a heart attack.

There’s no answer when I knock on the door. After a full minute, I let myself in.

“Maggie?” I call out from the foyer. I walk through the house, checking the kitchen and the living room for signs of her, but there’s nothing. She might be in her bedroom, but I’m not about to check there, so I head straight for mine.

My new posters are up on one wall and Anna’s photograph of our beach in La Paz hangs above the bed. I drop my backpack on the chair by the door and head for the closet.

My new T-shirts are folded and stacked on a shelf and the new dress shirt Anna helped me pick out hangs in front. Smashed in the back of the closet are all of the winter clothes I bought during my first visit here. It’s hard to imagine that next month I’ll need those wool button-ups and long-sleeved T-shirts again.

My backpack is full of stuff I need but can’t buy here: more cash, even though the hidden compartment is still sufficiently stocked. The fake State of Illinois driver’s license I paid some guy to make for me, perfectly mimicking the photocopy I gave him of Maggie’s, but with my photo and my birthday stated as March 6, 1978, rather than March 6, 1995. I open the top drawer to stick everything inside and spot a note:

Go look inside the cabinet.

Love,

Anna

I cover my mouth with my hand, hiding the smile that spreads across my face when I see the boom box. Resting against the handle is a postcard with a shot of downtown Evanston. I pick it up and flip it over:

Welcome back. I thought you might want to
play
those CDs you bought last time you were here.

I have to help Emma set up. I’ll see you at her house at 7:00.

The boom box is heavier than I expected it to be. I set it on top of the desk and sit down so I can study the vintage buttons and knobs, check out the dual tape deck and the radio dial, and press the button marked with the words “Mega Bass.” When I press one of the buttons on top, a door slowly opens. Inside, I find one of the CDs we bought last time I was here.

I barely stifled a laugh when Justin pushed this CD into my hands. I already considered
The Bends
a classic, but around here they refer to it as the second album from a new band called Radiohead. I press play and the room fills with music—a steady guitar lick and soft drums, then voices and melodies—and I close my eyes, taking it in, feeling a smile spread across my face. I look around the room at the posters, realizing why they helped but felt a little insufficient. Music. That’s what this room needed.

When I’m dressed and ready to go, I head to the kitchen to find something to eat. As I walk down the stairs I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched by photos of my mother, now in reverse-chronological order starting with her wedding at the top and ending with her kindergarten photo near the foyer at the bottom.

Maggie still doesn’t seem to be home. On the desk in the hallway, there’s a stack of bills underneath a Post-it cube, and I sit down and write three notes telling Maggie I’m here. I leave one on the kitchen table, another on the end table where she always sets her tea, and I stick the last one on the end of the banister, just in case she makes it to the stairs without spotting the other two.

I’m still a good six or seven houses away from the Atkinses’ when I hear the music drifting through the neighborhood, but it’s not until I’m standing in front of the house that I begin to understand what Anna meant when she described Emma’s birthday party as “over the top.”

A long line of alternating dark-pink and white balloons line the driveway, creating a colorful path from the sidewalk to the side entrance of the enormous brick Tudor-style mansion. I look around. I think I’m supposed to walk through it.

At the end, I see a woman with short blond hair wearing a bright pink dress. She’s standing next to a small table under a comically large balloon arch.

“Welcome!” she says, beaming. I’m not sure who she is until she asks, “Can I start you off with something to drink?” in a British accent so thick that she must be Emma’s mom. She hands me a glass of pink lemonade and I take it and thank her politely. “Everyone’s in the backyard,” she says.

She turns her attention to the big group coming in behind me. “Welcome!” I hear her say as I turn the corner and walk into the “backyard.” Which is really more like a small park.

Bright pink and purple flowers are bursting out from behind short hedges, and the grass is so green I feel the impulse to reach down and touch it to be sure it’s real. The walkway takes me past smaller patios and hidden sitting areas until it ends at a huge lawn. There’s a DJ parked on the far end.

I look around for Anna. Right in front of the DJ, I spot Alex and Courtney dancing. He’s grabbing her by the hips and pulling her toward him while she shoots him fake smiles and pushes him away. I keep scanning the yard, and finally Danielle pops her head up from the crowd, gives me a wave, and starts walking toward me.

“She’s going to be so happy to see you,” she says, pulling me into a hug. “You’re all she’s talked about for the last few weeks.”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that, but I’m glad to hear that she’s been thinking about me as much as I’ve been thinking about her. “Where is she?” I take a quick sip of lemonade and I feel my whole face pucker up. I set my glass down on a small table next to a rosebush.

Danielle rises up on her toes but it doesn’t give her much of an advantage. “I saw her earlier, but—oh, wait…there she is.” She points off toward the edge of the garden and I follow her finger but still don’t see Anna. “She’s over by that big tree, talking with Justin.”

I finally spot her. Justin’s leaning against the tree and Anna’s standing in front of him. She’s wearing a short skirt that looks a lot more like something Emma would wear, and I’m pretty sure that means that Anna let Emma dress her for the occasion. Her hair is up on the sides, held in the back by a clip, but the rest of it is long. She’s twirling her curls around her finger.

Justin sees me before she does and I hear him say, “He’s here.”

Anna turns around, and before I can take another step she throws both arms around my neck. Justin glances around the yard like he’s looking for an excuse to leave.

“I’m going to grab a drink,” he says, and then tells me where to find the beer they stashed in the bushes.

“Thanks.” I don’t tell him that I don’t drink. I tried once, at a party my sophomore year, and it was a disaster. After two beers, all I had to do was
think
about needing to take a leak and I’d wind up back home in my bathroom.

Anna gives me another squeeze. “Did you get my present?”

I nod. “Thank you. It’s perfect. Exactly what the room needed.” I step back and take a closer look at her. “You look amazing.”

Anna looks down at her outfit and shakes her head. “Emma’s doing, of course.” The shirt is lower cut than anything I’ve ever seen on her, but I don’t want to make her self-conscious, so I don’t say anything.

“How was your trip?” she asks, raising her eyebrows jokingly.

“Very short.”

“No little bags of peanuts on board?”

I run my thumb along her cheek. “Nope. No peanuts.”

She fake-pouts. “Bummer. I liked the peanuts.”

“Can you stop talking now so I can kiss you?” I start to move in closer to her but she pulls away, glancing over my shoulder at the party in full swing behind me, and reaches for my hand.

“Not here.” She gives me a peck on the cheek instead. “I have an idea. Follow me.”

She leads me to the other side of the lawn, past the DJ and to the edge of the garden. We’re not exactly out of sight, but this is a little more private.

I think I’m finally going to kiss her, but then she ducks down low and pulls me into a small grove of fruit trees. We push branches and leaves out of our way and when we’re able to stand up straight again, we’re standing at the edge of a hill. A tall, wrought-iron gate hugs the slope, and Anna feels around in the dark for the opening. She finds the latch and the gate swings toward us with a squeak.

It’s dark back here, but the narrow path is illuminated by a series of lights hidden in the surrounding ferns and grasses. Tiny rocks crunch under our feet as we follow the path to a wooden bridge, and once we’re across, I see a cement bench next to a giant Buddha statue. I can still hear the music, but it’s muffled.

Anna stops in front of the bench and steps in close to me, resting her hands on my waist. “So…you were saying something about peanuts,” she says with a smile.

“No, I was saying something about kissing you.” And before she can say another word, my hands settle on the small of her back and I close what’s left of the distance between us. I feel her hands on the back of my neck, her fingers traveling into my hair, pulling me into her, kissing me.

When we stop, she doesn’t open her eyes or move away. I can feel her breath as she speaks. “I missed you.” She runs her thumb along my jawbone and my pulse races. “Tell me about the last few weeks. I want to know everything.”

Everything.
I take a deep breath, preparing to launch in. I’ve been waiting for three weeks to tell Anna
everything
. How many times did I stare at my cell phone, wishing I could call and tell her about the fire, and two kids that are alive today but shouldn’t be, and the look on my dad’s face when I told him what I’d done? Finally, here she is, staring at me with this sweet, expectant look on her face, and my mind is totally blank.

I’m not ready to go there yet, so I decide to warm up with a few basics. I sit down, straddling the bench, and Anna sits right in front of me. When I talk, she leans in close, as if my class schedule is especially interesting, and when I tell her about my friends and how weird it is to be back with all of them, she scoots forward and takes my hand, lightly tracing the lines in my palm with her fingertip as she listens.

When I’m finished, I ask her about life at Westlake. She tells me about Argotta’s class and how she has a new conversation partner, and that every time she turns around and looks at my old desk, it makes her happy to think that I sat there once but also makes her sad that I no longer do. Last weekend, she got the top time in her cross-country meet.

We’re both quiet for a few minutes and I see my opening. I take a deep breath, preparing to tell her about the fire, but before I can, she squeezes my hand and says, “I have something to tell you.”