Aubrey’s cheeks flush the way they do when she makes an “Aubreyism.”
“And that’s not fair,” she says, not with embarrassment. With hurt. And a little anger. “All I was trying to say is that it’s highly improbable that this is the first collision ever and might not even be the first for the three of us. Any one of us could have been in another universe before and not even know it. For a second or for a lifetime. Intentionally and unintentionally. Maybe we slide all the time but can only see how the world we happen to be in at the time is playing out.”
“Schrödinger’s cat,” Mallory says, remembering the research she did. (Reluctantly.) “The role of observation in determining the state.”
Ilena nods. “Jonah said something similar about the frequency we’re tuned to. And it doesn’t contradict what Aubrey’s suggesting, that a brief cross could be like déjà vu.”
Mallory gets the feeling that Ilena has more experience with this than she’s letting on. “Regardless, a brief cross is not what we have. We have time to think things through, to make decisions.”
“That according to the multiverse theory causes more splits,” Ilena says.
“Which really messes with your head, right?” Aubrey says.
And when did this turn into a Philosophy 101 debate?
“But also,” Aubrey continues, “like, I mean, it reinforces that anything’s possible, doesn’t it? That consciousnesses might not be fixed, even. In this universe, maybe I decide to stay, but in another, I decide to go. And in another it’s possible we all stay or maybe you do, Mallory, or Ilena does and one consciousness remains or the other one does or even they merge, and on and on. We have to accept that it’s not as simple as one version or the other. This isn’t binary. It’s not two worlds. It’s likely millions or even billions... every variation of this plays out, and every version of us lives every possible outcome. There’s no ‘replacing’ because everything happens. We all exist somewhere.”
Mallory’s head is spinning. Everything Aubrey is saying feels one hundred percent right and wrong at the same time. She manages, “It’s still a big risk, Aubrey.”
“It is.” Aubrey hesitates. “And I never take risks. You always have, Mallory. Maybe it’s time for me to know what that’s like.”
No, no, it’s not, Mallory wants to scream. Because Jonah also said that to increase the probability of universes crossing and a coherence link engaging, the circumstances needed to be nearly identical. That means all three of them. Aubrey staying here risksall of them staying here. Jail and no Jonah and a dead Grayson and all because of what? Aubrey being too timid to pursue sex with Kai in their world? So selfish, so incredibly, terribly, unceasingly selfish.
Mallory hunches over Harley, the betrayal burning like acid in her throat. Harley wriggles in her lap. She works her fingers into his belly. Aubrey wants to stay. No matter what it means for Mallory. And the pain and fear contained within her every cell her entire life breaks free.
“You’re running away,” Mallory blurts out. “Whatever multiverse jargon you want to use to justify it, the bottom line is that instead of coming home to your life with your problems, you’re staying here where it’s easier.”
It’s so still, you can almost hear the grains of sand in the sandbox shifting.
Finally, Aubrey says, “Easier?” in a tone so wounded that Harley gives a whimper, and Mallory almost wishes Aubrey had shouted instead. “Easier, maybe, if I have none of my own memories, yet that assumes this life is perfect, and I think we all know that no one’s life is perfect. But if it works the way I feel in my gut and I’m still me, tell me, what about living in an entirely new worldaloneis easier? Because it’s terrifying. Or how about this? What’s easy about staying in a world where my flea of a fiancé is alive? The one who conned me into sleeping with him when he’s engaged to someone else?”
She grows more animated. “Not only will I have to risk living in the same city and seeing his stupid smug face, but seeing his stupid smug face that hovered above me as I had the best sex of my life? Seeing that face thatisstupid and smug but that will always remind me of the role I played in his death in our world? Add in seeing his fiancée, who may even come to me with questions I’ll have to answer in a way that changes her life? And then there’s this: Facing the employee I slept with, who I’m pretty sure hates me but who I’m also pretty sure I’m falling in love with? Which means confronting the notion of an actual relationship, which is nauseating and scary and something I’d actually love to run away from? Let’s see, what else? Oh, being a possible accomplice to murder and if not murder at the very least a cover-up and let’s not forget lying to the police? I think that’s all the opposite of easier?”
Mallory trails her shell-shocked eyes to Ilena, who says, “Aubrey, let’s take a breath and—”
“I’m not done,” Aubrey says, sitting up straighter. “I haven’t gotten to the biggest one. Or ones. The two of you. Because leaving you feels impossible. There is nothing easy about the idea of not being with you—the you I know and love. But it’s because I know and love you that I’m worried about these other versions of you. We screwed things up here. No matter how we each want to try to justify it, we’ve changed their lives—and the lives of Felix and James and Mallory’s dad and probably everyone at our company. What if these versions of you don’t remember what’s happened? What becomes of them without someone to explain it all?”
Ilena places her hands on her belly. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
Wait, what? Is this Ilena giving in? Without even talking to Mallory in private?
Aubrey extends her hands toward the two of them, but her arms aren’t long enough to reach. “We play the odds this way. We give all of us the best chance.”
Unintentional as it likely is, Mallory feels judged, like hiring a lawyer was the thing that was selfish.
Aubrey draws her shoulder blades together. “No matter what happens, I’m ready to stop looking behind me, at every mistake and every failure, and start looking forward. Making no decision at all is worse than sometimes being wrong. I’m hoping you two can help the me at home learn the same.”
Mallory looks at Aubrey, her protégé, her partner, her friend. She looks at the healthy color in her cheeks, the straightness of her back, the unbitten cuticles, the ease with which she’s come to carry herself here.
What’s wrong with me?
Mallory’s selfishness is failing her best friend here, the same way it failed her at home. That night in the bar, she thought Ethan was cheating on Aubrey. And she wasn’t going to tellher. She can pretend all she wants that she hadn’t made the decision and that his death meant she never had to make the decision. But there was no decision to make. She was going to use the woman in the white coat as leverage over Ethan. No matter the consequences.
Crunch of glass, smell of wine, pooling of blood.
And some secrets aren’t just too terrible to tell, they’re too terrible to know.
“I’m going to miss you,” Mallory simply says.
