“They are,” says Lucille upon reentry. She holds a fancy cloth, a bevy of crystals collected inside. Maybe from her private collection. Maybe from a stash for sad saps like me. “I had those cards custom made. I even provided the models.”
Okay, now I’m worried she’s got a secret sex dungeon, and we’re about to become her latest prisoners.
Lucille lays out her spread on the table beside the cards, which I’d prefer to forget about. “Do any of them call out to you, Nolan?”
I inspect them all, but only two of them churn up memories: a clear,pointed obelisk-shaped one and a smooth, rounded, heart-shaped pink one. I point to them enthusiastically, not mentioning our true intentions for coming here. We don’t need someone like Lucille asking too many questions, because even if she may claim a connection to the larger spiritual realm, I have a feeling literal time travel trumps all that.
Lucille smiles. “Good eyes. The quartz duet. Clear quartz and rose quartz in combination can be powerful since they’re of the same family. Perfect for processing big emotions and manifesting trust and harmony.”
Maybe sheissuper connected to another realm. How else could she know how badly I want to make it up to the man sitting next to me? Drew’s pointer finger traces the divot above his upper lip. I wonder if he’s registering the irony as well.
I consider the other crystals once more, but for various reasons—their shades, sizes, general vibes—they don’t dredge up anything mentally for me. Which makes me think this quest will be harder than I originally considered. Part of me was hoping we’d snag all of the crystals on this trip, but it’s the specificity that’s bogging me down.
“I’ll just take those two. How much?” I ask immediately. I’m ready to be out of this shop so those haunting cards can’t stare me down from the tabletop any longer.
“Twenty each, but I’ll go for thirty-five for the pair.” Momentarily, I worry I can’t afford that. Days ago, I wouldn’t have had that kind of cash on me, and if I swiped my debit card it would’ve probably shredded itself in protest. Now, all I need to do is fish into my wallet and there’s a fat wad of bills waiting for me.
I hand over the cash, she hands over the crystals, and then we all walk out of the room and into her kitchen. Yes, we agreed to tarot appointments in some stranger’s apartment, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and here I am, turning to the very trinkets I once openly mocked. They may be my only hope.
With the crystals tucked safely in my jacket pocket, Drew and Ishuffle about for a second on the sidewalk. “That was…something,” I say to break up the silence.
“At least we got some of what we came for.” He pulls his MetroCard up on his phone, alerting me that our time together for the day is ending. Disappointment hops up into my chest, wishing we were riding the subway home together like the old times, sharing a single pair of wired earbuds while listening to whatever audiobook Drew was listening to at the moment. He never ceased to blush if a sex scene came on unexpectedly.
“Maybe even more than we bargained for,” I joke to squash the tension and discomfort. “I’m going to be scarred by those scary cards for eternity.”
“If you even remember them,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
One shoulder goes up in a noncommittal shrug. “We don’t know how this works. If the crystals get you back, you probably won’t remember any of this.” There might be a note of sadness in his voice, but maybe I’m overthinking it. “I only say that because you have no recollection of the seven years you missed. I can’t imagine you’ll get to keep memories you never made.”
“Guess I should live it up while it lasts, then,” I tell him, encouraging myself. “Hey, would you maybe want to get dinner and drinks? Jessalynn hasn’t sent me any frantic texts, so I assume I don’t have anywhere to be for the rest of the night.” I truly can’t bear the thought of sitting in that spacious apartment alone, curled up with Milkshake, who may or may not be able to read my mind, with nothing to do and no other human around.
I miss the comfort of knowing Drew is on the other side of a paper-thin wall. My new apartment is like a fortress of solitude.
Drew’s eyes grow apologetic, and words I’d rather not hear follow. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Right, sure,” I say, trying and failing to temper the rejection. “But, um, why exactly?”
He sighs. “It’s just that I think we should keep our interactions to the crystal hunt. Keep things less complicated.”
“Of course, because they’re so uncomplicated now.” I mean to say it as a joke, but it comes out like cutting sarcasm. I think about what he said about not believing in love the way he used to. I think about the comedic reputation I’ve established in this timeline.
Drew probably has a point, even if I don’t like it. Trying to get back to the place we were at on the night of CeeCee’s wedding before I ran off would be messy. This whole time travel situation is already complicated enough. But does that complication also extend to a friendship?
I can’t think of anything in my real timeline less complicated than the beautiful friendship I shared with Drew. It was my keystone, and only now that I don’t have it do I realize just how quickly the archway of my life could come crumbling down in its absence.
“Sorry, no. I understand. I should probably get back to learning my set before rehearsal.” I suppress an eye roll at the thought of spending time with those ridiculous jokes and stupid punch lines that feel gross to say aloud, even while alone in my apartment.
“And I have stuff to do at the store.” It sounds like a lie, but I don’t test it.
We both nod. Both stand there. Both let the city and the sidewalk and soundscape of honking swallow us up. Drew makes the first move by offering his hand for me to shake. The formality punctures me.
“Can we at least hug?” I ask. It’s only afterward that I realize how childish the question sounds. “We don’t have to, you know, if that will complicate things too much.” It’s selfish, really. To crave comfort from someone so set on pulling away. Though in fairness, I pushedfirst. And this time, I can’t even blame the unfortunate events of the lost seven years. I pushed the night of CeeCee’s wedding, so I have no right trying to pull him back in.
No right. But I am anyway.
I think Drew senses this, our friendship sonar not completely dashed to pieces. Tentatively, he says, “Sure, we can hug, Nolan.” And as soon as he opens his arms, I fold into them, channeling all my love and care into the palms of my hands as they press into his back. I memorize the rise and fall of his collarbone beneath my cheek, subtly inhaling the scent of him, which, mixed with Lucille’s incense, is sweet and intoxicating.
