Until We Meet Again(24)

of time. He says I should focus on preparing for college and

then law school.”

“A five year plan, eh? Sounds familiar.”

“Something like that.” There’s an edge of sadness to his voice.

“It’s not that I don’t want to go, necessarily. I just…I never

had the choice, you see. My path has been laid out for me

since I was born. Harvard, like my father. Law school, like my

father. Work in corporate law, like my father. Marry a society

girl my father approves of. Have sons. Throw polite parties at

my summer home on the North Shore.”

“What if you just tell him you don’t want to do all that? Tell

him you want to find your own way.”

“If only it were that easy,” he says, shoving his hands in his

pockets.

“He can’t force you.”

“You don’t know my father. He’s a powerful man. Ever since

my mother died last year, it’s like I’ve become his employee,

rather than his son.”

I’m starting to see why Lawrence was brooding on the beach

that first night. “I’m so sorry,” I say softly. “I can’t imagine what

it must be like to lose a parent.”

He concentrates on the ground as we walk. “I don’t mean to

bring the mood down.”

“After what you’ve gone through, I’d say you have every right.”

“I’m fine. I just wish I could talk to him, you know? And that

he’d actually listen to what I want. Of course, you understand

having little choice in life. Being a woman.”

I feel a twinge of guilt at moping over my First World

Problems. “Actually, things are pretty equal between men and

women in the future. I can do anything I want.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“I guess. Sometimes I think that’s part of the problem. Too

many choices.”

“I wish I had your problems.”

“Yeah, well, part of me wishes I had yours. I wish someone

would just tell me what I’m good at and what I should be.”

“You’re good at painting,” he offers.

“Am I? You’ve never even seen my stuff.”

“I want to see it. I’m sure you’re excellent.”

“That’s sweet, but for all you know, I royally suck.” I kick at

a pebble in front of me. “Maybe if I knew where I truly had

talent, I’d know what I wanted to do with my life.”

“It’s official then,” Lawrence says. “If we find a way to travel

into each other’s time, we’ll swap places.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

We shake on it. Then Lawrence points to the sandy path

ahead. “Here’s our chance. There’s the trail.” His hand extends

for mine. “Shall we?”

I pause at the foot of the dirt path, then set my hand in his.

“Let’s do this.”

A few steps on the trail, and nothing has changed. Our

eyes meet.

“This is scary,” I whisper.

Lawrence smiles. “Well, you’re still here.”

A few more steps. Still a solid entity.

“Dude,” I say, eyes wide. “It’s working.”

His face bright with excitement, Lawrence breaks into a

run down the path, pulling me along behind him. But before

we’ve gone six feet, a fuzzy shimmer falls over him. His grip

goes soft. We run a little farther, and the effect intensifies.

Lawrence meets my gaze, crestfallen, and then disappears.

Though the first test of his theory failed, Lawrence is determined to test every angle. We even walk out to the tip of the point, but it doesn’t change the outcome. We make our way

over to the other point too. I don’t think it will be any different,

but I don’t say as much. Maybe because a part of me wants to

keep up our conversation and the long hike along the shore will

do just that.

But as I’d thought, the other trail is no different. After more

than two hours of walking, we end up back on the beach.

Lawrence brings some sandwiches and fruit from his house—or

my house, I guess—and we eat on the sand.

“So, I guess this is it,” Lawrence says, taking a bite of apple. “I

can only see you here on this beach. Nowhere else.”

I nod. “It’s weird. Like some cosmic force is trying to keep us

apart. I guess this is the universe’s way of telling me I’d make a

really awful flapper.”

In spite of my joking around, the strange sadness of the situation pricks at me.

Lawrence rotates his apple in front of him, examining it. “Who

knows? Maybe the universe is trying to bring us together.”

I look at him sidelong. His dark brown eyes meet mine,

unembarrassed by his words. I try to play it cool.

“Saying stuff like that doesn’t do anything to refute my ‘this

is all an elaborate scheme to ask me out’ theory.”