That’s what I’d call it if I ever talked to anybody about it: dodging. When we were about seven, Brandon and I built a treehouse in a pussywillow at my grandma’s. I say treehouse, but it was just an old board or two we found stuck across some branches. The boards broke; we both fell. When I drew in a breath to start screaming, something twisted in me and in the world. It was Brandon screaming, and Brandon going to the hospital. I drew a lot of pictures on his cast.
I don’t know how much I thought about it until a year later—we were at Rushmore, and we had ice cream. I dropped mine, and immediately I thought never happened. Things flexed again; my cotton candy cone was back in my hand and it was Brandon crying, being told we were too far to go back.
I’ve been nice to Brandon since then; I avoid skinned knees and fender benders by moving them somewhere else, to someone random. What harm? Those things were always going to happen.
When Jane said those words, maybe I could have prevented my dodge. Never happened. Another diner kiddy-corner to us tried to muffle his sudden sob. I squeezed the hand held in mine. This gave me the opportunity to, to shore up the issues. To be the man Jane needed. Just because I could push a breakup somewhere else doesn’t mean I wanted to.
“I love you,” I murmured over the sobs behind her.
“I know,” she said. “Dodging makes it so easy for you.”
Welp. I tried to dodge again, but the only thing that flexed was my stomach. Italian-flavored bile coated the back of my throat. Her hand tightened in mine, and I realized that she was... her pulse was so fast. Wasn’t it? I leaned forward a little. I hadn’t seen it before, but in the soft light cast from the LED candles, was Jane—flickering?
“Are you—a hologram?” Jane laughed, and it didn’t sound like her.
“No, just another... time traveler, I guess.” She sighed, and that sounded heartachingly familiar. “Oh, Rob. Robert. You were doing so well, but what just happened... that’s basically mind-control, Robert. I won’t deal with that. There was a world in which you tried that and we overcame it, but no world in which it works.”
“How did you know?” The love in her eyes hurt.
“There are an infinite number of Robs, Roberts, Bobbys, Rays... Robertas, too,” she said thoughtfully. “Rob was... I mean, you all have a sort of ‘charmed life’ entitlement vibe because of the dodges, I get that, but he never did what you just pulled.” Her bony fingers tightened on mine. “My Rob died. I think he could have dodged the crash, but he didn’t. After feeling what you just tried to pull—you would. You’d kill someone else in your place.” Reality started to flex again, but her nails dug in. More nausea.
Are there—Jane?” I cleared my throat. “Other Janes?” She grimaced.
“Nope.” She stood and picked up her purse. “It was nice to know you, Robert. But we really should see other people.”
I tried again one more time, after she left. All I dodged was vomit.
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