The Love That Split the World(90)

“It’s trying to wake up and perceive time as the human brain is meant to—in a linear fashion. Even if you could find the right time where Grandmother’s hiding, I doubt you’d be able to keep yourself there. I’m guessing the Closing is the point at which your perception gets locked back into place and starts moving along your moments as it should—exclusively forward, at a steady pace.”

“There has to be a way, though. If Grandmother can do it—”

“Theoretically, there is,” Alice says. “I don’t know that I’m on the money with all this. But assuming I am, I’m still convinced that hypnotherapy’s the key. Pinpointing that trauma, and using it to stimulate the brain activity that creates the visions—time slips—is our best bet.”

“What about Beau?” I say. “How does he fit into all of this? Is he a wormhole too?”

“Well, that’s the thing that doesn’t add up.” Alice stands and picks her way over to the whiteboard that’s wedged between the bookshelves. She draws a line on the board then starts scribbling branches stemming out from it until it looks like a sideways tree. “This is a totally different theory of time—what I call the ‘many worlds interpretation.’ In it, every decision or action has alternate possibilities. Parallel realities. This is the theory that allows for our Union to coexist with Beau’s, with the division having at some point been created by a decision or series of decisions.” She circles the last two branches she drew. “Hypothetically, even the smallest decision could create two different outcomes.”

My stomach contracts and my shoulders tighten. “Like maybe my parents didn’t decide to adopt me.”

Alice jams her mouth shut. “Or maybe your birth mother decided to keep you. Or maybe someone offered your mom a different job and in Beau’s world, you live in Timbuktu. Natalie, it could be anything—there’s no way to know that hitting the snooze button on your alarm clock one extra time couldn’t have been the point at which these two worlds split. The point is—the two theories don’t strike me as altogether compatible. We’re still missing something important.”

“Couldn’t both theories be true? I mean, what if it’s just one enormous, windy time Slinky with a zillion arms?”

“I have no idea. Believe it or not, I haven’t spent a ton of time studying time travel. I’ve made some calls to supposed experts, but if we’re being realistic, we probably know more than them at this point. They’re operating on math-based theories, with no experiential element.”

“And we’re following trails of silver light and your gut.” I drop my face into my hands and grip my hair near the scalp. “I don’t even care. I don’t need to understand how all this works, or even understand why. I just need to find Grandmother and figure out how to save Matt, or whoever else might be in danger, and we’re no closer to that than we were last week.”

I close my eyes until I’m sure no tears will come, then look up at Alice again. She’s back in her chair, her mouth screwed up and fine lines drawn between her brows. She leans forward and awkwardly covers my hand with hers. A few seconds pass, and she lets go and comes to sit beside me. “We’ll keep trying.”

“Someone’s going to die,” I whisper.

Alice sighs and leans her head back against the couch. “Maybe,” she says softly.

We stay like that for the rest of our time together, and that’s how I know: We’ve both given up.

When I stand to go, she grabs my elbow. “You’ll be here Thursday.” It’s somewhere between question and statement.

“Probably,” I manage.



For the rest of the day and most of Wednesday I call Beau at thirty-minute intervals, but still I can’t get through to his burner phone. I spend my time pacing in Megan’s room, hiking listlessly through the woods, stumbling through painful small talk over the dinner table with Mrs. Phillips, and driving out to Beau’s house to sit in the room that should be his.

Around midnight, I’m lying in bed when my phone starts to vibrate beside my ear. “Hello?” I answer, immediately alert.

“Natalie.” Beau breathes my name out like a sigh of relief.

“Thank Grandmother,” I say.

“I missed you,” he says. “I thought maybe . . .”

He trails off, but I know what he was going to say. “No, not yet.”

We haven’t seen each other for the last time yet.

“Can I come there?” he asks.

“To Megan’s?”

“I can’t be at home right now.”

I debate it in my mind for a minute. I don’t want to be disrespectful to Megan’s family, but so much more than that, I don’t want to lose any time with Beau. “Park down on the street and come to the back door.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Can we stay on the phone?” I ask. “Just in case.”

“Yeah,” he says. “We can do that.”

I don’t hang up until he’s standing in front of me on the other side of the glass door, his phone to his ear and that heavy smile across his face as he raises one hand. I toss the phone into the chair and slide the door open, pulling him against me. He nestles his nose into the side of my face.