by Ellen Smith
“Sorry,” Colleen said.
Mara swiveled around. “Sorry? For what?”
“I shouldn’t have brought it up. It was insensitive of me,” Colleen said. Her cheeks were almost as pink as her fuchsia fleece pullover.
“Brought up my password?” Mara said.
“What?”
Mara stared at Colleen, trying to puzzle out what she’d said. Colleen stared back, looking equal parts concerned and confused.
Mara pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping it would help clear the fog out of her head. “I’m looking for my password,” she said. “I tried typing in what I remember twice, but the system said I had a login error, so I’m looking to see if I wrote it down anywhere.”
“It’s under your keyboard,” Colleen said. “Remember? On your second day working here, you had the same problem and I told you to tape a sticky note under your keyboard. That’s what I do.”
Mara flipped over the keyboard and was relieved to see a small, folded green square stuck underneath. “Oh my gosh. Thank you!” Mara carefully typed in each symbol with one finger. She’d forgotten the exclamation mark and the asterisk. The login screen welcomed her into the system, and Mara let her keyboard fall back over with a thud. “Thank you so much,” Mara said again. “Really.”
“You’re more than welcome, sugar. Sure you’re only twenty-six? People usually don’t start having memory problems until they’re my age.” Colleen delivered her last remark with an exaggerated wink. Mara gave a polite laugh.
Maybe it hadn’t been polite enough. Colleen frowned again. “You sure you’re okay, Mara? You seem distracted today.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Mara said automatically. There was work to do. She opened the first spreadsheet on her list and scrolled up and down, looking for the place she’d left off. Mara was conscious of Colleen’s worried stare, but she didn’t turn back around.
I wish I could just start the day over. With a sick, sinking feeling, Mara remembered that she could. She’d just have to start the last eight years over too.
* * * * *
Spring. Mara could feel it in the warm air that whipped her hair around the second she stepped outside the Metro station. It was warm enough now that she could unbutton her trench coat for the walk home. Once she made it inside the apartment building, a wave of heat blasted her full force. The building manager still hadn’t turned off the heat for the building. He hadn’t fixed the chain lock on their door yet, either, Mara realized. Another thing to call about.
Mara mounted the stairs up to the apartment as quickly as she could. The indoor stairwell worked like a chimney, pushing all the too-hot air up to the top. By the time she reached the third floor, she was practically sweating. Robyn was there, waiting just outside the apartment door. Based on her purple-lipstick and heavy eyeliner, today must have been Robyn’s day off. Her hair was parted severely to the side, sending a cascade of dark curls over the right side of her face.
“Surprise!” Robyn said. “Will texted and said you needed cheering up. I can’t believe I almost beat you here. How are you? Long day?”
Mara let Robyn pull her in to a vanilla-scented hug. By the time she pulled back, Mara had managed to force a smile.
“Thanks for coming,” she said. From the looks of the canvas shopping bag looped over her arm, Robyn had brought dinner too. It really was nice of her to come. Nice of Will to arrange it. Mara should be grateful.
She fumbled with her key in the lock for a solid minute before she heard footsteps from the inside.
“Hey! Are you surprised?” Will asked. “After yesterday, I thought you could use a friend.”
I could use a shower and an antacid, Mara thought grumpily, but she turned her smile up another notch. Judging by the look Robyn gave her, Mara wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Geez, are you ever having a bad day,” Robyn said. She shepherded them inside as soon as Will unlocked the door. “Go on in and get comfy. I brought wine. And Coke for you, Mara.” Robyn laid her tote bag on the table and started unpacking. “I have a frozen pizza for dinner. Plus Girl Scout cookies.”
Robyn looks happy, Mara realized. It had been months now since her friend had broken up with Jessica, the one girl Robyn had loved so much that she’d been willing to come out to her parents. It hadn’t gone well. Then, when Jessica broke things off, Robyn had seemed cut loose from reality for a while. No girlfriend. No relationship with her family anymore—at least, not a close one. During those long months, it had been Mara visiting Robyn to cheer her up.
Now the shoe was on the other foot, but Mara had a hard time accepting the same comfort from her friend. “You didn’t have to bring us dinner,” Mara protested, but Robyn waved her off.
“Calm down, it’s not charity or anything. It gives me something fun to do on my day off.”
“How’s work going these days?” Will asked her.
“The stories I could tell,” Robyn said. “I have about three clients who are really open to change and working on getting in to rehab. Then I have about, oh, twelve who are still convinced they don’t have a drug addiction. One came in high to our last meeting.”
“Who shows up to addiction counseling when they’re high?” Mara asked.
“You’d be surprised.” Robyn shook open the box of cookies. “Anybody want Thin Mints?”
Will reached into the plastic sleeve and took five. “Maybe a couple. I need to head back out to get Mara’s prescription. Do you guys need anything?”
“What prescription?” Mara asked. “You got my painkillers yesterday.”
Will looked at her strangely. “Yeah, but I still need to pick up the regular refills. You know. That manage the . . . side effects.”
Right. Her birth control pills, which the pharmacist had been so pushy about yesterday. Plus the prescription antacids that only mostly worked and the stool softeners that worked a little too well.
Just what every woman wants to hear, Mara thought. Be right back, honey. I need to go refill your stool softeners.
“Thanks,” Mara said aloud. “Sorry I forgot. I could have swung by and grabbed them on my way home.”
Now Will was really looking at her strangely. “No, we talked about it when I called you at lunch. Remember? I told you I was going to surprise you since I went out last night.”
“Oh,” said Mara. “Right. I remember now.” She didn’t. Her brain had been replaced with warm, fluffy cotton. Mara pictured herself diving in and out of the layers of cotton, disappearing into one cloud and then suddenly breaking through and reappearing in another.
Maybe taking the higher dose of painkillers wasn’t such a great idea. If she kept feeling this foggy-brained, she would probably have to call Dr. Ricci and see if he could decrease her dose again. Although that might mean another appointment and another day off work. Fantastic.
Will dropped a kiss on her forehead and grabbed two more cookies. “I’ll be back soon.”
Robyn waved goodbye as Will left. “I need a pizza pan, two glasses, and a corkscrew,” she said. “I can get them. You sit down.”
“Thanks.” Mara retreated to her recliner and pushed the lever. Finally. She closed her eyes, trying to forget that both Will and Robyn were taking care of things while she was sitting here, resting. It didn’t matter now. Just a little rest and then she’d get up and be helpful.
Mara counted her way down from a hundred by threes, willing her shoulder to loosen and the pain to stop every time she exhaled. Her shoulder hadn’t been seizing today, at least. The higher dose of painkillers was good for something.
By the time Mara had counted down to number thirty-four, she could smell the pizza baking in the oven. It sounded like Robyn was back too. Mara could hear ice cubes clinking in the glasses and the fizz of a soda bottle. She opened her eyes.
“So what’s going on with your shoulder?” Robyn asked. She poured Mara’s Coke into a glass before getting to work on the wine bottle. “Will said somet
hing about you having a neurologist appointment yesterday. Are they going to do another surgery?”
“Can’t. The doctor said this was the end of the road, pretty much.” Just recalling the conversation sent another wave of exhaustion rolling over Mara. “Another surgery would just make more scar tissue. He increased the dose on my painkillers, but now that’s increased the side effects too.”
“That sucks,” said Robyn. She freed the cork and poured wine into her glass. “Sorry for drinking in front of you, by the way. Is there another medicine they can give you?”
“Nothing we haven’t already tried. Dr. Ricci said that at this point, if I need more help, we’d need to start looking at lifestyle changes. Just not doing anything for a while and slowly adding back as much activity as I can tolerate.”
“So that’s why Will called and said you’d had a bad day. No kidding. I’m sorry, hon.”
Mara took a deep breath. “There’s more. So, the shooter? The guy who started this whole mess?”
Robyn stopped with her wine glass halfway to her mouth. “What about him? Isn’t he still in jail?”
“Apparently he’s been rehabilitated. He applied for a timeline rectification, and it looks like it could happen.”
“Wow,” Robyn said. “I mean, wow. That’s . . .” She shook her head. “Any chance this is an April Fool’s thing?” she asked weakly.
“It’s not a joke. The letter’s in the kitchen. Somewhere. I think.” Mara squeezed her eyes open and shut, willing her head to clear. “Yesterday, Will and I went to talk with the corrections specialist.”
When Mara opened her eyes again, Robyn was staring at her. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
Mara took a sip of the Coke, delaying her response. She could tell Robyn. Robyn would understand.
“I don’t know,” Mara said. “We signed the papers to move forward with the process, but now I’m thinking maybe we should call it off.”
“Why would you do that?” Robyn asked. It was the way she said it—matter-of-factly. As if a time wreck was the obvious choice.
Mara tried to gather her fuzzy thoughts. “When the corrections specialist was talking, I kept feeling like—I don’t know, like it would be cheating for Will and I to do it. I meet so many people at work who really have traumas, people who lose everything, and they keep going. And look what Will and I have,” Mara said, indicating the apartment with a wave of her good arm. “We’re managing just fine. I feel like time wrecks are for people who have bigger problems. People who really need help. Not us.”
She wasn’t explaining it well. Robyn was still sitting on the arm of the recliner, frowning at Mara as if she’d started speaking another language. “Mara, it’s okay to admit that things are hard for you.”
Clearly, Robyn was missing the point. “But things aren’t that bad,” Mara said.
“I’m going to try to say this as nicely as I can,” Robyn said. “You were shot in your freshman year of college. You’ve had multiple surgeries. You still can’t fully use your right arm. You have chronic pain that apparently isn’t going to get any better. You somehow managed to graduate from college with amazing grades, and you couldn’t find a job for years. Why not fix that stuff? Seriously.”
“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds bad,” Mara said. “But I did find a job. I did finish college. And I have Will.” She said the last part hesitantly. Was it okay to talk about that with Robyn, or was it still too soon after the breakup with Jessica?
Robyn didn’t flinch. “Yeah, and what about Will? You’re not the only one who was hurt in the shooting. You told me before that Will has PTSD, and I’m guessing it’s a lot worse than either of you guys let on.”
“I know Will was hurt too,” Mara said, feeling stung. “I even said that in the meeting with Nayana yesterday.”
“Nayana?”
“The corrections specialist. Or rectification coordinator—something like that. But I’ve always been really up front that Will’s PTSD is just as bad as my injury. I just wish he’d let me help him as much as he helps me.”
Oops. Mara didn’t usually talk about Will’s struggles. It felt disloyal somehow. But Robyn continued on, unfazed. “Maybe this is a way you can help him.”
“How do you mean?”
“What better way to cure post-traumatic stress disorder than to go back and not experience the trauma?” Robyn spread her hands out, as if the answer was obvious. “I can’t imagine Will would ask for it. He’s too busy playing white knight for you.”
“Hey!”
“You know I mean it nicely. But you say yourself that he won’t let you help him. Maybe this is a way that you could. Go through with the time wreck and un-traumatize him.”
Mara ran one finger over the edge of her soda glass. She could already feel her indigestion bubbling up. It was nice of Robyn to bring her a Coke. It was her favorite. Mara should have just said thanks and stuck to water, though. Or ginger ale.
I’m so tired of ginger ale.
“There is one other thing,” Mara said. “I feel selfish even saying it.”
“I doubt it’s anything that bad. Come on. Lay it on me.”
“The first time Will saw me was after Jason shot me. He’s the one who called nine-one-one for me. He held me while I was bleeding . . .” Mara cleared her throat twice. The bubbles in the soda were getting to her. Her stomach was starting to twist and turn. “The EMT said Will saved my life.”
“Right, right. I know.”
“That’s what started things for us. He came to visit me in the hospital and, I don’t know, we clicked. But it all hinges on that one night. What if we don’t meet in the next life map? What if I walk one way through the Student Union and he walks the other and we never even glance at each other?” Mara felt horrible as soon as the words left her mouth. “That’s awful. I know. I wouldn’t really want Will to have PTSD so that we would meet and fall in love, and he wouldn’t want me to be shot for his sake either. That’s sick. I just . . . I love him. I don’t want to lose him.”
Mara was grateful when Robyn didn’t brush it off. “You really think you guys could miss meeting each other?”
“I mean, Adams Morgan is a big school. There were over a thousand people just in our freshman class. I majored in psychology, he majored in music education; our dorms were on different sides of campus—what if we don’t meet?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. At all.” Robyn seemed even more sure of herself as she warmed up. “You’re forgetting all the other stuff you guys have in common. You both like music. You both like to read. You both like crappy TV.”
“Hey!”
“You know it’s true. It was never just about the shooting with you guys. You’re a lot alike. Most of the rest of your time at college was messed up because of the surgeries and recovery time, but imagine if you hadn’t had to deal with all that. You and Will probably would have met at the library or the dorky little café that held all those poetry slams. There were thousands of people on campus, but not thousands of people like you and Will.”
“That actually makes me feel better.” Mara took another sip of her Coke. The bubbles fizzed and tickled her nose.
“Glad I could help. Honestly, Mara, this time wreck deal seems like the best thing that could happen for you guys. Seriously.” Robyn passed the sleeve of Girl Scout cookies. “Stop thinking up things to worry about. This is your lucky break. Just be happy.”
* * * * *
Much later, after Robyn left, Mara had tiptoed down the hall to the bedroom. Will was already asleep—as usual, Mara and Robyn had talked long into the night. Quietly, Mara got ready for bed and slipped under the covers next to her husband. She settled back into her bank of pillows and tried to measure her breathing against Will’s long, slow snores.
She was almost asleep when she realized Will’s snoring had stopped. Mara was instantly alert. “Will?”
No answer—not to her, anyway. He w
as muttering something in his sleep. Mara watched him frown and flinch.
This was the beginning of a nightmare, and watching him go through it made Mara’s heart speed up too. Should she try to wake him up? Mara was never sure. Gingerly, she put a hand on his shoulder.
Will jolted straight up in bed, sweating hard and breathing in terrible, short bursts.
“Are you okay?” Mara asked, at the exact moment that he asked her the same thing.
Will wasn’t himself when he was having a nightmare. He seemed to be looking through her instead of at her. He darted glances all over the room as if he were sure someone was hiding behind the door.
“I’m okay,” Mara said. It was easiest that way. “I’m okay. See? We’re in bed, in our apartment in DC. I’m right here.”
She repeated herself until he finally seemed to see her. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Guess I had a bad dream.”
“Don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.”
Thankfully, he did. Other nights, he’d had to get up and change his sweat-soaked shirt. Mara would hear him walking around the apartment, watching TV, even doing the dishes. Anything to ground him in the here and now. Mara was glad tonight was easier.
For him, anyway. Mara stared up at the ceiling. Her shoulder was throbbing again. It wouldn’t be time for another painkiller until six in the morning, but maybe if she changed position, it would help. Slowly, she eased herself out from under the covers, checking to be sure Will wouldn’t wake up. He didn’t. She dropped a kiss on the top of his head and quietly opened the bedroom door.
Her heartburn was worse now too. Mara walked down the hall to the kitchen and found the bottle of chalky antacids. It had been long enough that she could take two more. She dug out two—purple for grape, pink for strawberry—and popped them in her mouth. Whoever named these flavors does not know what real fruit tastes like.
There was no point trying to go back to bed now—it would take time for the antacids to kick in, and then she’d want to wait a bit before lying down, anyway. Mara flicked on the living room lights and settled in the recliner. Too bad the book she’d been reading was in the bedroom—she wasn’t about to risk waking Will to go get it. That meant it was time to see what was on TV. Maybe Engaged or Enraged was on.