I couldn't be bothered with the details. Not when the words on the page before me were swimming, my head spinning.
"What is it, Ro?"
"What if . . ." My words came out as a croak, so I cleared my throat, bracing myself. "What if it's not what Finn's saying on the phone, but just that he's speaking to me at all?"
"What do you mean?"
"Since this started, I've had this feeling that things are . . . off. Wrong. With Finn, I mean."
She nodded slowly.
"What if Finn didn't change his mind about going to Virginia?" I whispered.
Lindsay's eyes widened. "You mean—"
"What if Finn— my Finn— actually went? And he's calling me from there."
I forgot it's still early there.
Meetings all morning.
We'll make it through this.
Love you.
"But if that's true." Lindsay lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder. I wasn't sure why. There was nobody else nearby. "That means the Finn who's here isn't your Finn."
"Could that really happen?" I asked. "Could they switch places somehow, and my Finn is able to reach out to me . . . because I'm supposed to fix it somehow?"
Lindsay looked a little lost. I didn't blame her.
"I don't know, Ro," she said finally. "But I think we have to find out. I’m just not sure how."
I sighed and scanned the list one more time. "I think I might have an idea."
11:47 AM
"Are you sure about this?" Lindsay asked, glancing down the hall nervously.
I slipped my key into Finn's front door. "I have to know," I replied.
"Maybe you should just ask him?"
I froze and bowed my head, bumping it against the door. "Maybe I should," I said quietly. "But if I'm wrong, I can't—I don't want him to know about all of this. And if I'm right . . . "
The thought was overwhelming. What would I do if I was right? I had no idea.
Lindsay pressed a hand to my back. "Okay then, let's go."
We slipped into Finn's apartment and I called out to make sure he was really gone. He'd texted that he was heading over to talk to the dean about readmission, and we'd agreed to meet for lunch afterward. Part of me felt guilty sneaking around in his home. The other part of me —the desperate and terrified part— was pretty sure I didn't have any other option.
"Where do we look?" Lindsay asked, taking in the unpacked boxes and stacks of books on the floor.
"Bedroom first." I led her down the hallway and into the room. It was small, like most student housing, with a full bed in one corner and a dresser crammed in the other, the right side jutting into the closet opening a couple of inches. A small desk and bookshelf took up the rest of the room, with a glass door leading to a small balcony bringing in some natural light. He’d unpacked this room, the empty boxes folded neatly and stacked behind the door.
I headed straight for the closet and flipped on the light. I grabbed the small clothes hamper tucked behind the door and dumped it on the floor.
"What are we looking for?" Lindsay asked as I picked through the dirty laundry.
"White button down," I replied, "with a coffee stain on the sleeve. He has another hamper in the bathroom. Can you check there?"
She nodded and disappeared out the door, only to return a few seconds later. "Only a towel in that one," she said. "Any luck?"
I picked up a blue shirt, and threw it back down. "No, it's not here."
"Maybe he washed it already?" Lindsay suggested, hesitating as she reached for a dresser drawer.
"I'll look in there. You check the closet?"
We went to work, Lindsay holding up a shirt every now and then for me to review. With each moment that passed, my heart sank further into my stomach.
"It's no use," I said, not even bothering to close the bottom drawer. "It's not here."
"What's not here?" a familiar voice said from the doorway.
I turned to see Finn looking at us with a baffled expression, taking in the mess on the floor, the open drawers, and the two women apparently searching his bedroom.
Well, no apparently about it.
"Ro? What are you doing?" he asked.
"Uh—" I looked to Lindsay, but she was just as stunned as I was. "I thought you were meeting with the dean?"
"He had a family emergency and had to reschedule," he said. "Ro, what’s going on here?"
I cleared my throat. "I was, uh, looking for your shirt."
"My shirt? What shirt?"
"The one you were wearing the other morning. The one you spilled coffee on."
He stood there for a moment, gaping, before his gaze cleared and anger replaced the surprise. "You're still going on about that?"
I took a step toward him. "Finn, no. Please listen—"
"To what?" he snapped, stalking to the pile of dirty laundry and stuffing it back into the hamper. "You're going through my dirty laundry, Rowan. You don't think that's a little—"
"Little what? Insane?" I snapped.
"I didn't say that!"
"You didn't have to!"
We glared at each other and Lindsay chose that moment to step forward. "Ro—"
"It's okay," I said, swallowing my nerves. "Could you give us a minute?"
She glanced nervously at Finn. "You sure?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. I'm, uh, going to . . . " She jerked a thumb toward the door. "Call me later?"
I nodded.
She murmured a quiet apology as she passed Finn, but he either didn't hear it, or chose to ignore it. When the front door shut quietly behind her, Finn let out a heavy breath.
"What's going on with you?" he asked, anger dissipating as he sat down on the bed. He lifted a hand, as if to reach out to me, but let it fall back into his lap. "Talk to me."
And in that moment, I knew I had only one option. I had to tell Finn the truth. Because he was Finn. Whether or not he was my Finn was irrelevant, because even if he was from some other reality— I still couldn't believe the thought— he had his own Rowan. His own me. We were together, and we loved each other— trusted each other— and I had to honor that, no matter what.
I sat down beside him and turned sideways so I could meet his gaze. "I'm going to tell you something that sounds insane," I said. "But I need you to trust me and I need you to keep an open mind."
His eyes darted back and forth, searching my own, then he picked up my hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed my finger.
"Tell me," he said.
All in all, it went better than I thought it would. He wasn't convinced— I mean, who would be, besides maybe Lindsay— but he didn't call me crazy, and he didn't try to debunk my theory. He just listened, asked a few questions, frowned when I told him about the other Finn saying he loved me, and held my hand the whole time. Then he sat, staring at the pile of dirty laundry in the middle of the floor, until I was about out of my mind.
"Well?" I asked, when I couldn't stand it anymore.
"I don't know what you want me to say."
"You can say you believe me."
"It's not about believing you, Ro," he said quietly. "It's just a lot to take in. That you don't think I'm . . . me."
"You're you. You're just not—" I got to my feet, an idea starting to form. "Think about it," I said. "Doesn't anything seem strange to you, different since we got back from the airport? Am I different?"
He looked up at me, tension at the corners of his eyes as he studied me. I latched on to that doubt— that curiosity.
"It might be something little, insignificant," I said, falling to my knees before him. "Maybe my hair's a little off, or my voice is weird?"
Finn licked his lips. "You . . . you called me Finnester."
"Yeah? I always do that." My little annoying nick-names for Finn were kind of a tradition. "Don't I?"
"Yeah, yeah, you do," he said, rubbing his hands over his face. "But you'd called me that particular name before— at the house just that morning— you
never re-use your names, at least not so close together."
"What?" I sat back on my heels, trying to remember. "Are you sure?" I did try to mix it up, and come up with different variations— just to drive Finn crazy, or make him laugh.
"And your fingernails," he murmured, bringing my hand to his face. "They were pink. Did you take off the polish?" He looked up at me, a growing shock showing in his expression. I knew how he felt.
"No," I whispered. "I haven't worn nail polish in weeks. Months."
Finn stiffened. "No, this is insane. Alternate realities? Other versions of ourselves? That's a sci-fi movie, Ro, not reality." He got up and knelt by the laundry basket to sift through the dirty clothes. "I'll show you the shirt and you'll see that I changed." He tossed clothes aside as he spoke. "I'm me. You're you. Everything is—where is that damn shirt?" He got up and crossed to the closet. "I threw it in here after I changed. It's got to—" Finn stood with his hands on his hips. "Maybe the bathroom."
"We checked. It's not there," I said quietly.
"Well, it has to be somewhere," he said, an edge of panic to his voice as he got down to look under the bed, then ripped the sheets and comforter off the top. I just sat and watched as he searched through the dresser drawers and the closet hangers. "I don't understand." He looked to me, lost and confused.
Then my phone rang.
I pulled it from my pocket, my breath catching when I saw who was calling.
"Who is it?" Finn asked.
I just held his gaze as I answered the call. "Hello?"
"Hi, I finally caught you." The connection was stronger than last time - still not crystal clear, but I could definitely recognize his voice.
Finn. My Finn.
"I'm, uh, going to put you on speaker. One sec." I switched on the speaker phone and set it on the bed between us as Finn sat down.
"Can you hear me okay?" I asked.
"Yeah. Everything all right?" I glanced at Finn, and he shook his head slightly. Like Lindsay, he couldn't hear the phone call either. He opened his mouth to speak, but I held a finger to my lips and nodded. He still looked wary, confused, but he kept silent and held my hand.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I said into the phone. "How's it going there?"
Finn sighed. "I miss you," he said, his voice weary. "Ro, I think I made a mistake."
"What do you mean?"
To say it was strange talking to Finn on the phone while he sat holding my hand would have been an understatement. Part of me felt like it was a betrayal, but I couldn't let go of him. In all of the bizarreness, he was somehow keeping me grounded.
"I spent the whole morning talking business and I hated every minute of it. I mean, I hated it," the Finn on the phone— my Finn— said. "I don't think I can do this, Ro."
I cleared my throat. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know." He sighed again. "I'm going to talk to my mom about it. I think I'm going to tell her I changed my mind. She'll be pissed."
"You have to do what's right for you," I said quietly.
"Yeah. I just hate to disappoint her, you know?"
"I know." At my sad tone, Finn squeezed my hand.
"Well, I just wanted to hear your voice," my Finn said. "I'm going in to meet with her in a few minutes. I'll let you know how it goes."
When I realized he was going to hang up, I panicked. "Finn?"
"Yeah?"
"You'll call me back?"
He laughed. "Yeah, of course."
"Sorry." I tried to calm down. "It's just— there's something wrong with my phone and I can't call out right now."
"Oh, okay, yeah. I'll call you later."
"One more thing?"
"Yeah?" Finn's voice was quiet and fond. I felt a rush of emotion. God, I missed him.
"I know this sounds weird, but . . . " I chewed on my lip, my eyes on the phone. "Can you tell me something you've never told me before about yourself? Something only you would know?"
"What? Why?"
"Please?" How could I explain such a strange request? "Just anything. Please, Finn?"
It took a moment, but he finally answered my question, told me he loved me, and promised he'd call again. I hung up and the room fell silent.
I took a deep breath. "When you were five years old you took your father's watch out of his dresser drawer," I said, my eyes focused on Finn's hand gripping mine. "You dropped it in the heater vent and couldn't figure out how to get it out. Your dad was so angry because he thought you'd been robbed, and you were too scared to tell him the truth. So you never did."
Slowly, ever so slowly, I lifted my eyes to Finn's face. He was pale, eyes wide with shock and disbelief, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he nodded once.
"Okay," he said once he'd regained his voice. "So how do we get him back?"
I scooted closer to him, unsure if the gesture would be welcome, but he reached out and pulled me close. I slipped my arms around his waist and rested my head against his chest.
"I don't know," I whispered. "But we'll have to figure out a way."
3:08 PM
As it turned out, the campus library had a pretty extensive section devoted to theories about alternate universes and multiple dimensions. Unfortunately, I found it difficult to make heads or tails of most of it. Lindsay joined us for the research session, relieved that Finn seemed to be on board, at least on some level. He was still quiet, though, stealing glances at me when he thought I wasn't looking. I assumed he was doing the same thing I had been— searching for more evidence, differences that separated me from the Rowan he knew.
The three of us sat at a table surrounded by books. Lindsay had her laptop open and was focused intently on a webpage, the tap of her fingernail on the mouse and the shuffle of turning pages the only sounds on the nearly-empty third floor.
"Listen to this," Finn said, running a finger along the page in front of him. "The Copenhangen interpretation holds to the premise that every event exists as a wave function, which contains every possible outcome of that event. The wave collapses once it is observed, in essence, creating reality. In other words, the observation of the event dictates the actual outcome, and all other realities are then eliminated."
"Of course," I muttered. "I say that all the time."
Finn shot me a mild glare, but kept reading. "However, the Everett interpretation, also known as the Many Worlds Interpretation, holds that the wave function never collapses at all. Instead, it splits into a new world, and as a result there is a large - potentially infinite - number of universes, where every possible outcome of every situation has created a new reality."
"Whoa," Lindsay murmured. "So, there are who knows how many realities out there right now, where we're having this same conversation."
"Well, not the same one - it would have to be slightly different to create a new reality," Finn replied.
"So there's a Lindsay out there who decided to have tea instead of coffee this morning," she mused.
"Or to wear a blue shirt instead of a purple one," Finn said.
"Which is all very fascinating," I interjected, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice, but pretty much failing. "But none of this tells us how to get the Finn from this world back where he belongs." I glanced at Finn. "No offense."
"None taken."
"I think I might have something to help with that," Lindsay said, scooting closer and turning her laptop so we could see the screen.
I laughed. "Seriously, Linds? What the heck is quantum jumping?"
"Don't mock," she replied, sniffing indignantly. "Some of this stuff might seem a little out there, but it's the only thing I've found that even gives us a clue how to deal with this situation."
"Well, ‘out there’ kind of fits in this case," Finn added.
"Okay, okay fine.” I held up my hands in surrender. “What does this Quantum Jumper have to say, whoever he is?"
"It's not a person, it's a theory," Lindsay said. "Basically, it builds on what Finn just read about multiple realitie
s. Quantum jumping is traveling between those realities using various techniques like meditation and visualization."
"So, you're saying Finn just has to visualize the reality he wants to go to?"
Lindsay nodded. "Basically. I think it'll help to have them both revisit the place where they crossed over to begin with. And they'll both have to do the visualization."
Finn sat back in his chair. "Well, that might be easier said than done."
"I'm pretty sure the switch happened in the airport," I said. "And now the other Finn's all the way across the country." I couldn't imagine how we'd get them in the same place, let alone convince the other Finn— my Finn— to take part in what was quickly becoming a pretty insane-sounding plan.
"We could do the same thing," Finn suggested. "I could tell you another deep, dark secret to convince him."
"You know him better than me," I replied. "Would that work?"
He shrugged, "Couldn't hurt. I—"
My phone vibrated and bounced across the table, Private Number lighting up the screen. I scrambled to answer.
"Finn?"
"Hey." He sounded tired.
"How'd it go?" I could feel Finn and Lindsay watching me, the weight of their expectation and uncertainty heavy on my shoulders.
He gave a short laugh. "Well, I have good news and I have bad news."
"You know me. Bad news first, Finneapolis." I heard Other Finn's sharp intake of breath and glanced at him, feeling almost guilty.
"Not my name," my Finn said. "But the bad news is, my mother probably won't be inviting us for Christmas."
My heart started to pound in my chest. "And the good news?"
"I'm coming home."
I'm coming home.
Home.
"Home?" I whispered. "Like, here home? You're coming back?"
"I'm coming back." I could hear the excitement in his voice. "I never should have left."
I looked over at Finn, who was tapping a finger on the table, his knee bouncing beneath it. His grey eyes were dark, focused on me as he listened to my half of the conversation. I wondered if he knew what the other Finn was thinking— if he could imagine the road he took to get to this decision.
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