So from now on, cashew cheese it is. Aubrey pictures tiny farmers tugging on tiny cashew udders and wonders if Ethan knows how they actually get cheese from nuts, because that’s always where her mind goes when she wonders something. And now, once again, she could actually ask him.
She hugs the cloud of a blanket to her chest and drapes it over the back of a low-slung pink chair. A row of perfectly groomed succulents basks on the bump-out of the windowsill, a rolled yoga mat nestles in the corner, a book on birds of the New England coastline sits on a side table, its spine lovingly creased.
It’s not that this version of Aubrey has different hobbies, it’s that this version of Aubrey has any hobbies at all. The only thing Aubrey has is a pile of rocks, like she’s a seven-year-old boy.
She likes succulents, has never tried yoga but always meant to, and birds, well, maybe they’re not so bad after all?
She slides open the barn door separating the living room from the bedroom in this cozy apartment in Cambridge that’s much smaller than hers. But it’s on the top floor, not in the basement, which her real estate agent had kept insisting was the “ground floor.” Aubrey forces herself to step into the bedroomand strip the bedsheets, grateful for the washer and dryer in the kitchen, not wanting to do a walk of shame to some communal laundry facility. A phrase she knows she shouldn’t be thinking anymore let alone feeling but can’t help.
As she shoves the sheets into the washer, something clanks against the inside of the drum. She hesitates, hope battling logic that the painted stone that was in her pocket at the outing somehow got lost in her bed when she fell into it with Kai.
Her collection began after Ethan had pilfered a rock from the dozens perched beneath benches along the river telling passersby to “rest more” and “be proud” and “stand tall.” Disingenuous, he’d said of them, the sayings cliché, insisting that words on rocks didn’t actually change anything. Except what if what they changed was how a single person felt in that moment? Didn’t that make up for the rest?
Cliché or not, the quotes reminded Aubrey of her grandmother, who had passed away not long before. She can still hear her “might’s better than fight” and “if tired is a state of mind, tell that to my feet.” Without Ethan knowing, Aubrey had returned the one he’d stolen, placing the “miracles happen” rock back amid the rest. A few days later, in a small boutique, she’d bought a round stone with “believe” painted inside a white daisy, feeling like it’d be good karma. It became the first in a collection that grew and her good-luck charm. She’d had it with her at the outing. She untangles the ball of sheets, disappointed at not finding it. Instead, there’s a bracelet of tiny wooden beads, a mix of light caramel and dark browns and a smattering of black. Tigereye. Dangling from the clasp is a round silver circle, engraved.
My Kai,
Aloha nui loa
Aubrey doesn’t know exactly what it means, but she knows it makes the bracelet special. Below is:
Mama
He’s probably searching all over for it, scared he lost it, something he brought here from his home in Hawaii. She sighs. She was so looking forward to today being a Saturday, a day she didn’t have to see those rather nice dark eyes that would be calming if they hadn’t just seen her naked.
She pulls out her phone to search for Kai’s number when a text comes in from Mallory.
Are we doing a roll call? Because...
Mallory sends an emoji of a hand raised, and relief at not being alone here helps soothe Aubrey’s anxiety over Kai. Ilena’s text follows:
Same.
That’s it. Like she’s saying she also wants to go for avocado toast. Which is good. Ilena’s calm mixed with Mallory’s determination always guided them best. Aubrey texts:Now what?
Mallory:Calling you both.
A video call appears on Aubrey’s screen, and she presses her back against the washing machine.
Mallory’s face, then Ilena’s.
“Another rule of Alternate World: Put nothing in writing,” Mallory says.
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Aubrey asks.
Mallory shrugs. “We could vote. AIM 2.0, B-Side, Off-AIM?”
Aubrey offers a smile, a weak one, because this doesn’t feel “off” to her. Ethan’s alive. She didn’t send a text that killed him. This actually feels more right than home.
Ilena cuts in with a matter-of-fact: “Isn’t it just our lives now?”
Mallory’s eyes harden. “I realize you have a reason to want to be here, Ilena, but I’m not ready to accept this is our fate.”
Because then Mallory’s fate is prison. Aubrey and Ilena accomplices. Aubrey looks around this apartment she kinda sorta already loves. Do accomplices go to prison too?
“Tell me, then,” Ilena says, “if physics and mathematics show that parallel universes or multiverses or many worlds or whatever name someone gives it are possible—”
“Probable,” Mallory corrects, her voice higher-pitched than usual.
