Time (Laws of Physics #3)
Penny Reid
1
Intro to Modern Astrophysics
Mona
I didn’t know enough about spiders.
For example, what did they do during the winter when flies were scarce? Did they sleep/hibernate like bears? And what’s the deal with hibernation? How does one get in on that action? Sleeping for long periods, as though time doesn’t exist. Then again—
“Time doesn’t exist.”
“What?”
In the fuzzy distortion of my peripheral vision, I saw Lisa turn toward me. She’d been sitting at her square kitchen table, working on her laptop since I’d meh-ed all her suggestions for leaving the apartment today. I think she was relieved.
I sat in her living room, somewhat reclined on a big, brown leather couch that was too large for the space. It wasn’t that the room was small, the couch was just too big, messing up the feng shui. Lisa had filled her apartment with fancy and colossal Williams Sonoma monstrosities, whereas what she really needed was some Ikea in her life.
My elbow bent, my cheek pressed against the underside of my forearm, I peered at the window.
“Time doesn’t exist,” I repeated, watching the spider in the corner of the glass pane as it did nothing. It wasn’t dead, the web was too new, but it was completely motionless. “I need to read more about spiders.”
“What does time have to do with spiders?” My sister’s tone was uncharacteristically gentle, almost wary. I hypothesized that my bursting into tears with the smallest amount of provocation over the last three days had made her cautious. Poor Lisa. She’d invited me to stay not knowing I’d transformed from not a crier to a crier.
At first, she’d insisted we go out and, at first, I’d been happy for the distraction. However, no matter where we went, disaster struck. Abram’s voice singing “Hold a Grudge” in the restaurant and at the movie theater. A poster of Abram and Redburn’s album cover at L stations and street corners. A young woman wearing a Redburn T-shirt. He was everywhere and yet nowhere—no calls, no emails, no attempt at contact—and the combination made everything worse.
I figured, at least in Lisa’s apartment I would be safe from the onslaught of Abram propaganda.
“I’m thinking about exploring the viability of human hibernation,” I said through a yawn. If it was good enough for bears, need I say more?
“I don’t think spiders hibernate.” The sound of Lisa’s chair lightly scraping against the tile drew my attention away from the spider. My sister stood, stretched, and her slippered feet made scuffing sounds as she walked. It was past 11:00 AM and we were still in our pajamas. “Do you want tea? Or coffee?”
“They should.” Everyone should hibernate. “Why haven’t humans investigated hibernation as an alternative to living through nonexistent time?”
“Mona. Do you want tea?” Lisa’s tone wasn’t impatient, but it wasn’t patient either. Again, I didn’t blame her. I’d been crying early and often, and I hadn’t yet fully explained why. I couldn’t, because every time I tried, I cried.
Which had me wondering, which came first: the try or the cry? A paradox.
“Yes to tea, please.”
I zoned out as she moved around the kitchen and out of view. A short time later, a tea kettle screeched. Sometime after that, she set a mug on the coffee table. At some point, she sat next to me on the couch and placed her hand on my back. I didn’t remember her touching me, only that one moment her hand wasn’t there and the next moment it was. Straightening from where I half-reclined on the arm of the couch, I twisted to look at her.
Her lips were curved into a tight, small smile and she inclined her head to the right. “Your tea is ready.”
“Thank you.” I glanced at the mug, but I lacked the energy to reach for it. Therefore, I stared at it, willing it to move into my hands.
“What are you doing?” she asked after another vague span of time.
“You don’t want to know.”
More moments passed. Lisa’s eyes were on my profile while I stared at the tea.
Eventually, she huffed, reached for the mug, and placed it into my hands. “You seriously need to snap out of this. What did he do to you? You’ve been here for three days and it’s like hanging out with a ghost.”
“WooOOOoooOOOooo.” I made my voice shake, the pitch go up and down.
That made her chuckle. But then, for the hundredth time, she asked, “When are you going to tell me what happened in Aspen?”
I brought the mug to my lips because a sting of tears rushed to my eyes. I knew the contents within the mug were too hot to drink. I took a sip anyway. I burned my tongue. I blinked back the tears.
“Mona, come on.” Her hand came to my shoulder. She squeezed it. She sounded concerned. “This isn’t you. You’re a mess.”
“I’m not a mess.” I was a mess. The logical path forward had abandoned me. Every road led to disaster. The wolves are definitely on their way.
“You are a mess. One minute you’re giving me monosyllabic answers, and the next you’re crying at the airport! I’m worried. I’ve never known you to be like this, ever.”
I released a watery sigh, my eyes losing focus, the white mug and its dark brown contents swirling together to become a nebulous blur. “My display of emotion within the airport is self-explanatory.”