For All Time

by Shanna Miles

  “I’ve loved you more than my future, and at times I’ve loved you more than my own life. That love is as real as my own heartbeat. But… I think it’s my turn to wake you up, Fay, so you can see that we’re stuck. We need to turn left when we’ve always turned right.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say, and notice how quiet the diner has gotten. The lights seem dimmer, and that déjà vu feeling is completely gone. This moment is new. This isn’t a memory or a replay of something that’s happened before. I close my eyes. I take a deep breath and watch every smile, first kiss, brush of the shoulder, and death play behind my eyes.

  “We’re in a loop,” I say, and she nods.

  “I keep choosing the easiest path,” she says, “and because you’re there it makes it even easier. If I hadn’t stolen your money on that train from Philadelphia, you wouldn’t have had to chase me, and you wouldn’t have been shot. I would have figured out a way to get to Spelman and we could have written. In Al-Kawkaw, I could have buried my pride and become the concubine and then bided my time. Iyin would have died eventually, and probably much sooner than I would have hoped. Instead I killed myself. There are countless other lives we’ve lived where I had a chance to put myself first, put my life first, and then pair it with yours. But staying with you, or focusing on you, on us, was the path of least resistance. I love you, but first I’ve got to love me. I need to start making my own decisions, thinking about what I want to do with this one good life I have.”

  I lean back in the seat, unwilling to let go of her hands, but blown away by everything she’s saying.

  “You love me?” I ask.

  “For all time,” she says, and smiles. “What would you have done in any of your other lives if you weren’t loving me?”

  I think about that and wonder if I was using Tamar as an excuse. I remember what I was running from in Philadelphia and realize that while I found Tamar, I was really trying to avoid having a steady job. Uncle Max was everything I didn’t want to be, but I didn’t put any real effort into finding my place in the world. I could have let Tamar go with the money. I would have made it back. In Al-Kawkaw I was just being reckless. I could have put my foot down, but I didn’t want to make waves with my father. It seemed easier to let the decisions be made for me.

  “I would have grown up,” I say, more to myself than her. “It’s been easier to put all my attention on you than to make a decision about what I really want to do and be. I don’t even consider any other possibilities where we’re not together.”

  “But those might be the best possibilities. There are no coincidences, right?” she says.

  “Right.”

  Tamar lifts herself up and grabs my shirt so that I have to lean over the table to kiss her. She tastes like ginger and cherries and I can feel every kiss we’ve ever had, the shiver of the ocean breeze on my skin and the smell of the smoke from the midwife’s cook fire. I’m everywhere we’ve ever been before, and when we break, my heart breaks too, unsure if we’ll ever be there again.

  “What do we do now?” I ask softly.

  She reaches into her shirt and pulls off a necklace.

  “I looped a chain through it so it wouldn’t be suspicious when I went through the metal detectors at the museum.”

  I take it from her and sniff it. She bursts out into a huge laugh.

  “Gross.”

  “I’m a guy. What can I say?” I say with a smirk.

  “Take this and the stone over to Iris’s table. She said Dr. Little Feather is a friend and he won’t ask any questions.”

  “We still don’t know what it is,” I say. “I’ve got memories that don’t fit anywhere else, some visions of us that feel out of place, but they’re fuzzy, like someone erased the useful stuff and left the rest. Maybe the stone has something to do with it.”

  “It doesn’t matter. But I think your subconscious was right—we need to get rid of it.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then we both head home and start planning our lives,” she says. There’s a smile in her eyes, but it doesn’t light up her face. It looks a lot like resignation. Or it could be relief.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep away from you,” I whisper.

  “I’ll make you a promise. Since neither of us believes in coincidences and fate is a cruel but consistent bitch, we’ll know that if she brings us back together, it must be inevitable. But we have to put in the effort. We have to be selfish, make hard decisions, do the things we want and need to do. It’s the only way we’ll know for sure.”

  “For sure about what?” I ask, not knowing what meeting a few months from now will change.

  “That us being together is a permanent thing and not just a cosmic mistake.” A tear rolls down her cheek and she brushes it away.

  I get up from the booth and kiss her one last time, not caring how we look, wishing we were alone so that my lips and hands in hers could say that even if time stops and the world starts over, I’ll still love her.

  But if my leaving her is what she needs, it’s time to make my exit.

  I break the kiss and turn around so she can’t see the water in my eyes. I walk over to Iris. Her smile is warm, her eyes knowing. She takes the bag without a word and enfolds me in the conversation she was just having with the doctor. It feels like I’ve only just sat down when I look over at Tamar’s booth. She’s gone.

  I blink and the waitress clouds my vision as she slides a piece of cherry pie in front of me.

  “Here you go, sweetie. It’s the best thing for a broken heart.”

  51 Cape Town, South Africa, 2032

  FAYARD

  THE SMELL OF GRILLED FISH, smoke, and hot peppers wafts around me as I dip my head into the tent. Before my eyes can adjust, everyone at the table bursts into a rendition of “Happy Birthday,” the Afrobeat version.

  “Surprised?” Femi asks when the song’s over, eyes shiny from starting the celebration a little too early.

  “Yes. Grateful, though. You know I don’t do anything for my birthday,” I say.

  “I know. That’s why we had to do it! You’re the head of the company. We can’t let your birthday just slide by without acknowledgment. Besides, it gives me a chance to one-up the Busan office.”

  “You can’t still be worried about that Korea bid?” I ask.

  Immediately I wish I hadn’t said anything. Femi’s hell-bent on exclusivity, and he just can’t shake the fact that another commercial exploration company beat us out for the international streaming rights in South Korea. The US government won’t fund space-exploration projects anymore, so we went to the private sector. Lunar travel for a price.

  “Think of it this way: we’ll be able to share more of the profits on the ground, in emerging markets in South America and Central Africa, which is why we’re here. Relax. It’s my party. I order you to,” I say in a stern voice, even though it’s clear I’m joking.

  “Fine. Fine, I’ll let it go. If and only if you share some cake with one of these lovely ladies,” he urges.

  “C’mon. You can’t be—”

  “I can be and I do be. You are single, and that cute girl at the hotel said her cousin played in the band Sniper,” he says eagerly.

  The name of the band makes my blood run cold, and immediately my back stiffens.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nah, man. How else do you think we got into this underground restaurant? Nobody knows where this place is. It’s like a myth. I can’t even tell you the things I had to promise that girl,” he adds, then tells me the things he promised that girl. I don’t follow because my eyes are busy scanning every face in the tiny tented yard. It doesn’t take long.

  She’s older. Her hair is cut in a kind of new punk style and she’s put on weight. I like the weight a lot. My hand flies to the early-onset gray at my ears. I knew I should have colored it, but Femi talked me out of it. I should have fired him. I would not be here looking at her again if I had fired him like I w
anted to.

  There’s a crew of people around her, including a huge guy with a mohawk, who must be her bodyguard. I inch my way closer, with Femi trailing behind me, oblivious to what I’m doing.

  What am I doing?

  We don’t know each other anymore. Maybe she’s forgotten all about me. No, that’s not possible.

  Damn, I haven’t been this nervous in years. I’ll just say hi. No, I’ll just catch her eye and raise my glass. I’m still debating the possibilities when a girl with a massive afro and laughing hazel eyes walks right into my eye line.

  “So, Fay, this is Tiana. She knows the owner and got us the reservation. I told her all about you.”

  “Oh…”

  52 TAMAR

  THERE WAS A CHANCE THAT I’d dreamed everything up. I went to countless therapists, two hypnotists, and a quack psychic who tried to sell me a thousand-dollar crystal to restore my true memories. I never could find Dolly’s Mirror again, and after my last breakup I was starting to believe that maybe I had made all of it up.

  “Cheer up,” Danny says, trying to get me in an after-party vibe

  “I’m cheery. I always get like this at the start of a tour.”

  I’m about to give my standard reason why I’m not in the mood when I see him. Like magic, a decade in the making. Poof and he’s there.

  Laugh lines around his mouth. Broader, maybe even taller, and starting to gray just the tiniest bit at the temples. I like it. A lot. He’s talking to some girl. She likes him. He’s being polite, a little standoffish. He really has changed. The old Fay was an incorrigible flirt.

  “Why don’t you just summon him?” Reina, my manager, jokes, and I flick water at her from the sides of my glass. “He is cute,” she offers.

  “I know him, from when I was younger,” I tell her.

  “Isn’t that like now? Since you’re turning back time and not allowing us to acknowledge your real age,” she says, and laughs.

  “You know the paparazzi keep track of all that. No pictures,” I warn her.

  “Booo. Why can blast-from-the-past have a party and not you? It’s your third world tour!” she yells excitedly.

  “Excuse me,” I say to them, and start to make my way over to him. “Danny, don’t follow me, okay?”

  “It’s dangerous,” he says in his uncharacteristically high voice. Must be all them damn steroids. I told him to lay off that crap. I put a hand on his chest when he tries.

  “Really. It’s fine,” I say, reassuringly.

  Like always, eyes follow me when I wade my way through the crowd. I’ve gotten used to the attention, but I think it might be time to focus on songwriting instead of being out front. It’s not a question of money anymore, and I’ve seen every corner of the world. I’m not too old to change things up. I’m not too old to make a different choice. I’m ready.

  I tap the shoulder of the girl he’s with and watch as her eyes bug out of her head. She stammers over herself, congratulating me on my latest Grammy. I hear her, but my eyes are on Fay. No ring on his finger. Good. That little bit of fear is dropped, along with any apprehension I had about what I was going to say.

  “You see that big guy over there? He’s my bodyguard and he thinks you’re cute. Can you go talk to him? For me?”

  The girl looks a little confused. If I had to choose between Danny and Fay, it’d be Fay all the way, but I asked, so she trots off.

  “Does he really want to talk to her?” Fay asks.

  “No. But you didn’t want to talk to her either,” I reply.

  “What makes you think that?” he asks, and offers me a slight smile.

  “Because I know you,” I say.

  “Yeah, but I need to get to know you. I followed your career for a bit. I’ve got all your albums,” Fay says.

  “Even Gemini’s Tale?”

  “Uh…” He quickly looks down.

  We both laugh. Gemini’s Tale was horrible. I’d just broken up with my fiancé and I was really on a single-and-sever-all-ties kick.

  “At least you’re honest,” he says lightly. “You know, I wrote you a letter after everything that went down at the diner. I bet your aunt got to it before you were able to read it,” he adds.

  “No, I got it. I…”

  “Oh. I… uh want to apologize for it. I know it doesn’t mean a lot after all these years, but it was too much. I was doing too much. I just loved you, completely, and I couldn’t bear to let you go. Over the years I realized that I was suffocating you. You were right. You knew better.” He seems relieved to have finally been able to say this.

  “I didn’t know better. I was just scared. I thought I had to cut you out to get what I wanted, but I didn’t even try to bring you with me. I still have the letter,” I say.

  He blinks hard. I’ve surprised him.

  “My cousin Letitia has it locked up with some of the special things I don’t like to move between homes.”

  “Homes. Wow!” he exaggerates.

  “Shut up. Doesn’t look like you’re doing too bad for yourself, Mr. Designer Shoes.”

  He kicks up a leg and turns the expensive sneakers from heel to toe so I can get a good look.

  “I run an exploration company,” he says in mock offense.

  “I know. Skyward Dreams. You’re not the only one who can use the internet.”

  He reaches out and takes my left hand, and that electricity, that feeling like I’ve had a shot of espresso and the light’s just been turned on, ripples throughout my body. I moved on. I did. But this was missing.

  “No ring?” he says, and I shrug.

  “No ring. I got this, though.” I pull up my sleeve and shake my bracelet. It’s silver with tiny diamond guitars, a cello, a small platinum spaceship, and other charms. It’s cheesy, completely antithetical to my eclectic-but-sexy aesthetic. My stylist hates it, but it’s mine, like your first tattoo. He smiles, mildly interested, turning each of the charms over with care until he finds it. “Is that…?”

  The cross is small, perfect for something like this, and it also seems out of place.

  “Rosary beads,” I say.

  He barks a laugh and pulls up his shirtsleeve to reveal a tattoo on his forearm.

  “Is that a slice of cherry pie?” I squeal.

  He nods.

  “It reminds me of you and reminds me that the right decision might also be the hard one. How much do you remember?”

  “After a while it didn’t seem to matter what had happened in the past. It was the future that was important. The feelings didn’t change, though,” I say.

  After Auntie O flew to DC to pick me up, my memories of my other lives started to fade. But my memories from this lifetime rose from those ashes. I grieved a long time for my sister and wondered about Fay.

  The settlement from the airline, after they determined the explosion was negligence, helped me stay afloat all those years I was searching for a record deal. My therapist thought everything I believed happened had all been a hallucination, and my neurologist thought Fay and I had had a shared delusion, but I needed to mark us with something solid. The bracelet seemed like a good way to commemorate the connection and the break.

  “The cherries look, uh… juicy?” I say, struggling for words, totally unlike the international star I pay my manager to say I am.

  “Your cello looks… jingly?” he replies, and laughs. “I used to be smoother than this.”

  The silence between us stretches out, and it’s like we’re at the diner again. A choice that needed to be made, but then again, maybe not. He holds out his hand and I lace my fingers into his. His palm is warm, a little calloused, and perfect.

  There’s no script for this. It’s never happened before, and hopefully it won’t ever again.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you so much for reading For All Time. It was so much fun to write and I hope you loved reading it as much as I loved writing it. I want to thank my editor, Krista Vitola, and copy editor, Karen Sherman, and the entire Simon & Schus
ter team. I also want to thank my fantastic agent, John Cusick, who believed in the essence of the story from the beginning. Birthing a book isn’t something you do on your own; it requires advocates and space to think and dream, so I want to thank my family and my students at South Atlanta High School. In addition to my school family and publishing family, I want to thank my real family, my parents and my husband, who always believe that I can do anything. Finally, a big shout-out is necessary for my critique partners, Megan Cronin and Nicole Lesperance, and the team at #DVPit, without whom this book may never have reached so many of you.

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  1. Time travel narratives don’t commonly feature Black characters. Why do you think that is?

  2. Fayard is often depicted as a “hustler.” How does this help or harm him in his various lives?

  3. Both Tamar and Fayard have characteristics that follow them throughout their lives. Which ones did you notice?

  4. Aabidah, Tamar’s sister, says that Fay is doing “too much” when he comes to the airport. What is she afraid of and does she have a right to be afraid?

  5. Tamar is a music lover and plays an instrument in many of her lives. How does she use this creative outlet to communicate?

  6. Fayard mentions the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, a labor organization that did eventually receive its charter from the American Federation of Labor. Its leader, A. Philip Randolph, advocated for better hours, better wages, and other improvements for the more than 18,000 members of the organization. Social movements are often spearheaded by young people. Why do you think Uncle Max was afraid of change?

  7. In what ways were Fay and Tamar afraid of change in their various lives?

  8. Fay is a gambler and he’s good at it. Once he sees how tips are made on the train, he starts a lottery game to make money. What spurred this change?

  9. Tamar is an orphan at the beginning of the book. How do you think that affects her decision-making? Does having her sister as her guardian give her more power over her future or is it harmful?