I slid from the bed and made my way to the kitchen, still holding a kitten-sized Ember for comfort. There were changes here as well. The kitchen seemed more cheerful than I remembered, with plants on the window and a stack of books on the table. Everything looked familiar. It was my stuff, but nothing was how I remembered leaving it.
Opening the fridge was as much a surprise as the now miniature Ember. It was full, stocked with things I liked but hadn’t bought in years. Yesterday, my fridge contained half-moldy cheese, mustard, dill pickles, and an assortment of half-empty takeout containers. The hair rose on the back of my neck and it became hard to breathe. It was almost like I’d stepped into an alternate reality or back in time.
I set my kitten down, and she scampered for her kibble, her claws skittering on the laminate floor. Today should be Wednesday. I had work, didn’t I? I turned on the electric kettle and went to take a quick shower, racking my brain for an explanation. The hot water helped me feel more normal, though my hair was longer than I remembered.
I staggered at the sudden realization of where I was. No, not where… when. How had this happened? It should have been impossible. My pathetic wish last night had come true. Using Ember’s size as a reference, I guessed I’d traveled back in time five years. My stomach fluttered in excitement. Five years ago, there’d been no Eric and no accident. Had I erased them from my past?
Jumping out of the shower, dripping water everywhere in my haste, I checked the date on my phone. I gaped, unable to look away. May 23, 2017. Not only was it five years ago, but it also wasn’t Wednesday. It was Friday. Date night, and I had less than two weeks before Brandon disappeared. My screen was lit up with red notifications, so I checked them. My stomach danced. Brandon had left two messages while I’d slept. My hands shook as I clicked the first, reading the text reminder about dinner tonight and where to meet. He’d also left me a voicemail with the same information, stressing the time. It was disconcerting to hear his voice after so long, especially knowing his fate. My hands turned ice cold, and I took a few calming breaths.
In this time, we were together, and he was alive. I could try again. I didn’t have to drive him away. Maybe I could save his life. Maybe I could make myself a happily ever after. This was my chance.
“Kitty, I don’t know how this happened, but maybe we don’t have to be alone and miserable.” My mind raced through a million minor changes in my life since 2017. The details I could improve at work. The ease with which I’d learn the software update next year. Covid. Everyone still worked at the office full-time.
I didn’t know how or why, but I could redo the last five years. I twirled in my kitchen and poured hot water into my teapot with a flourish. When my phone rang, I whipped it out of my back pocket. It was Meghan. I hadn’t heard my sister’s voice, except in messages, in forever. I hesitated a second, my heart leaping, then touched the screen.
My happiness crashed to the ground like a meteor when I tried to speak. Nothing.
“Elizabeth? Are you there? Elizabeth?”
I tried again, willing my voice to work, but no sound emerged. 2017 me was still mute, unable to speak to people, just like in 2022. I remained voiceless.
I clenched the phone tighter and hung up. Taking a deep breath, I texted.“Sorry, my phone is acting weird. What’s up?”
“That sux. Is Brandon coming to our engagement party? Haven’t seen him in ages.”
“I’ll find out and get back to you.”
Last time, I’d gone solo to the engagement party and met Eric. It had been a week after Brandon disappeared. I’d had no business getting involved with anyone while heartbroken. I’d slept with a stranger out of spite, which led to disaster. This time, I would avoid anything to do with Eric and take a different route. My mood soared. He would never be my husband.
. . .
Work in 2017 was much the same. I slipped into the building and upstairs without a conversation. Even before all the heartache, I’d been solitary, preferring to avoid awkward social situations. I glanced at the dress that I carried with me—the sight brought a rush of memories from the last time I had lived this day. Maybe I should have switched up my clothes. Last time, I’d gone all out and dressed in a new cherry-red dress with a cute flippy skirt and heels for dinner with Brandon. Wearing such a fun dress had made me feel beautiful. Buying the shoes meant a shoestring budget for a few weeks. I’d given up Starbucks.
While I was trying to change the overall outcome, I saw no reason to make everything different. I hung the gorgeous outfit in my office so I could change my clothes before dinner. I’d expected a proposal that night, but Brandon had disappointed.
We hadn’t discussed marriage, and looking back, the possibility had all been in my head. Tonight, I had no expectations on that front and hoped to enjoy myself. Maybe I could fix our relationship by relaxing, and by being less intense. I took a few breaths to calm my racing heart. So much was riding on this dinner and fixing my relationship with Brandon. Not speaking would be weird, but if I could have a pleasant non-date with Christopher, I should be able to make an evening work with Brandon. I didn’t want to cancel, so I planned to fake laryngitis.
Work flew by and soon it was time. With a smattering of butterflies circling inside my stomach, I hopped in the elevator, fixing the strap on my frivolous shoe. It stopped on the fourth floor and in walked Christopher.
“Elizabeth.” He looked at me from head to toe with those stunning pale blue eyes and whistled. “Hot date? My brother’s damn lucky.”
My cheeks turned pink as I nodded. I’d forgotten that this Christopher and I had gotten along. We’d been friends—and before I’d met his brother—I’d hoped Christopher would ask me out, but he never had. I froze, hoping he wouldn’t notice that I couldn’t speak. I would need his help to save Brandon, but I hadn’t yet figured out how. I smiled, though I was worried that he’d expect chit-chat. Before my silence became awkward, his phone rang.
“Ya, hey,” he said. “Sure, what’s up? Ya, she’s right here, on her way.” He winked at me. “No nudge needed.”
He was talking to Brandon.
We lurched to a halt in the lobby. I waved goodbye as I rushed out, hurrying to the restaurant. Brandon didn’t like it when I was late. Despite the best of intentions, I always forgot to allot time to use the elevator and walk a few blocks. Some things never changed.
When I arrived, I stopped outside. Brandon was inside—his back to the entrance—allowing me to watch him through the window. He’d already been seated and was no longer talking on his phone, but sat reading the screen. I smoothed my hair and straightened my skirt. Squaring my shoulders and taking a deep breath, I prepared to see him again. I’d never thought to have this chance.
When I stepped up to the table, I tried to speak, hoping my attempt this morning had been an anomaly, but nothing came out. Brandon hadn’t noticed my arrival or my voice difficulties. He looked the same as he’d looked in my imagination—serious and put together.
Pasting on a smile, I slid into my seat across from him, waiting for him to look up and acknowledge me. I set my phone on the table.
“You’re late again.” He tapped something on his phone and continued reading.
I was my standard fifteen minutes late.
