This Time Tomorrow(64)
It wasn’t a guardhouse—Dawn, who lived on Patchin Place, in the West Village, with its gas lamp at the end of the lane like something Mr. Tumnus would be leaning against, had crawled through a tiny door in the back of the closet in her bedroom, the kind of door that usually hit fuse boxes or water shut-off knobs, a jerry-rigged space built out of necessity. She was just looking for a small place of her own, but when she made it to the very back of the closet, she emerged into the ramble in Central Park. The story was complicated—portals, a mystery to solve, different years, different realities. But Alice could read it for what it was, which was a love story. Not a romance—there was no sex in the entire book, a few kisses, that was it—the book was about the love between a single parent and their only child. It wasn’t funny. It was earnest. It was the kind of thing that Leonard would never have said aloud to Alice, not in a million years. But it was true all the same. Alice wiped at her eyes and looked up at the clock. It was just before three. She sat up and looked out the window at the guardhouse. What had it cost her, traveling back? It had cost her a day. A day when her father was still alive. She couldn’t put it off forever, but Leonard had said she could go back. He had, after all. Alice shut the front door quietly behind her and ducked into the guardhouse. This time, she could do it on purpose.
Part Four
44
When she woke up in her bed on Pomander Walk, Alice knew exactly where she was, and when she was, and where her father was. She stayed in bed for a few moments, stretching. Ethan Hawke and Winona Ryder stared at her from the opposite wall and Alice involuntarily started singing “My Sharona.” Ursula was curled up on top of her stomach.
“You really are the best cat,” Alice said. Ursula tucked in her paws and rolled onto her back, her eyes still closed. Alice dutifully petted her furry tummy.
It wasn’t like Peggy Sue, an accidental fainting that caused a dreamlike delusion that wasn’t even real. It wasn’t like Back to the Future, where she could wreck and then unwreck her own life, watching herself from behind. It wasn’t even like Time Brothers or Dawn of Time, where the heroes were always busy acting out a plot, from point A to point B. Alice wouldn’t say that to Leonard, that his characters were always trying to do too much. Why were there so many books about teenagers solving crimes? K-pop fans had raised money, had used the internet to fight evil, but that wasn’t solving crimes, exactly. Alice wanted to talk to her father about Dawn, but couldn’t—he hadn’t written it yet.
No—this time, Alice was going to do better. The party didn’t matter, the SAT class didn’t matter, none of that mattered. He’d quit smoking—that was good, she could do that again. Now she wanted to make sure that he started to exercise, that he went to the doctor when he was sick, that he actually took care of himself. What mattered, too, was making sure that she and Sam said what they said at the ice cream shop. If Sam didn’t say it, then Leonard wouldn’t write it. And today, Alice knew that she didn’t have much time. There was that word again! No wonder there were so many songs about time, and books about time, and movies about time. It was more than hours and minutes, yes, but Alice could see how much each of those mattered, all those tiny moments added together. She felt like a walking needlepoint pillow—The way you spend your days is the way you spend your life. She wasn’t a teenage detective; she was a scientist. A baker. How much of this did she have to add, and how much of that? Whatever happened, she would see her results in the morning. It had been strange to wake up in the San Remo, but it had also been entertaining, if voyeuristic, like walking through a fun house mirror and getting to see what life was like on the other side. Everything was undoable, give or take. It wasn’t like Alice could live anyone’s life—she couldn’t decide to be a Victoria’s Secret model, or a nuclear physicist, but she could start herself and her dad down a path, and if it turned out to be a bad choice, she could always double back.
“Birthday girl? You awake in there?” Leonard called from the hallway. Alice heard him knocking around, getting something out of the closet, then shuffling into the bathroom. The door clunked behind him, and Alice could hear the whir of the fan. Alice had never really loved her birthday—too much pressure to have a good time—but she knew that she would have a good one today. Ursula jumped down to the floor and started playing with a hair elastic, batting it back and forth. Alice kicked back the cover and let her feet touch the familiar mountain ranges of clothing—maybe the Dolomites this time instead of the Andes, but mountains all the same. She was still in her Crazy Eddie T-shirt. Alice gave herself a hug and smiled.
Leonard knocked on her door, nudging it open. “You decent?” he asked.
“Never,” Alice said. “Yes. Come in.”
The door swung all the way, knocking into the thin wall between their bedrooms.
“So, what’s on the docket for the day?” Leonard asked. He had a can of Coca-Cola in his hand.
“Did you just brush your teeth while drinking a Coke?” Alice asked. She stood up and took the can out of Leonard’s hand. “We’re going jogging. Or at least walking. A walk, with a light jog in the middle. And then we’re going to have lunch at Gray’s Papaya. I’m skipping the SAT class, because, seriously, who cares. Sound good?” She didn’t wait for a reply, and walked the can back to the kitchen, where she poured it down the sink.