I nod and drain the dregs of my glass of wine. I feel numb. Like none of this is really happening, not to me.
‘Good. So, I’m going to the bar for more wine and then I’m going to give you two choices.’ Amina has flipped into efficiency mode, the same way that Alesha does in the office back in my world. ‘Choice A is that we share stories about Cesca, that we celebrate who she was and give your brain time to catch up with the reality in this world.’
‘You never met her.’
Amina rolls her eyes. ‘You think this Bethany never talked about her?’
‘Oh.’ I guess that makes sense.
‘Or Choice B is that you tell me what Tyler’s idea was and we figure out how to make it work.’ She doesn’t wait for me to tell her which I’m going to choose, just spins round and stalks off to the bar.
She returns with wine and a wooden spoon with the number 9 on it. ‘I ordered chips,’ she says as she puts the spoon into the holder on the table.
I suddenly realize how hungry I am. All I’ve eaten is that pastry with Tyler and the cinnamon bun on the train but that was hours and hours ago. ‘Thank you.’
She flaps her hand as if to say it’s nothing. ‘So … A or B?’ The question is light, no hint of which way she thinks I should go. She’s leaving me to drive how I process the news about Cesca and I’m extremely grateful.
‘Choice B,’ I reply. All my life, I’ve dealt with difficult emotional stuff by doing something else, solving another problem to give my subconscious time to catch up and process the reality I don’t want to look in the face.
‘I thought you might.’
‘Is it what this Bethany would choose?’ I ask.
‘You are far more similar than you seem to think.’
Except this Bethany has made the worst life choicesimaginable with the most horrendous impacts on the people around her, before deciding to rip apart the fabric of space and time instead of maybe seeing a therapist. But I don’t say that. And besides, I think I’d probably destroy the universe before I went to therapy too.
‘Tyler’s idea was just to replicate what this Bethany did,’ I tell Amina.
‘Obviously,’ she replies.
‘You’d thought that too?’
She rolls her eyes. ‘Of course.’
‘But you didn’t suggest it.’
‘Because you wouldn’t do it.’ She’s totally matter-of-fact.
I wait for her to elaborate.
‘It isn’t perfect,’ she continues. ‘There are issues, outstanding questions, uncertainties. So before I made the suggestion I needed time to think.’ She pulls out a notebook from her bag and flips it open to a page full of tightly written text.
‘You have a plan?’ I ask, trying to decipher the words, but I can’t read upside down.
‘No. I have answers to the questions I know you have. So what are the barriers? What are the things stopping you from going through with this and I’ll tell you what I think the solutions are.’
‘How do we know it’ll send me back to my own world?’
‘Because I know exactly what parameters this Bethany used. Replicating the experiment perfectly is easy.’
Okay. ‘What if this body has another bad, or even more catastrophic, heart attack?’
She pauses as she looks at her page of notes. ‘You’re on medication now. And I might have an idea on how to make the experiment safer for you physically.’
‘So what about the Bethany who is sent here the second you send me back?’
‘I’ll be there to meet her and walk her through everything. If you’re right and she was the one who ended up in the coma, then she’ll probably be relieved to know what really happened.’
