Every Day

I feel both guilty and defensive. Guilty because I did this to Nathan, whatever my intentions. Defensive because I certainly didn’t force him to react in this way, which will only make it worse for him, if not me.

In the one-in-a-million chance that Nathan can persuade someone to trace my emails, I realize I can’t check this account from people’s homes anymore. Because if he can do that, he’ll be able to chart most of the houses I’ve been in over the past two or three years … which will lead to a lot of confusing conversations.

Part of me wants to write back to him, to explain. But I’m not sure any explanation will be enough. Especially because I don’t have most of the answers. I gave up on figuring out why a long time ago. I am guessing Nathan won’t give up as easily.

Margaret Weiss’s boyfriend, Sam, likes to kiss her. A lot. Public, private—it doesn’t matter. If he gets a chance to make a move, he does.

I am not in the mood.

Margaret quickly comes down with a cold. The kissing stops, and the doting begins. Sam is rather smitten, and he surrounds Margaret with the sweet quicksand of his love. From recent memories, I can tell that Margaret is usually just as willing to do the same. Everything comes second to being with Sam. It’s a miracle that she still has friends.

There’s a quiz in science. Judging from my accessing, it appears that I know more about the subject than Margaret does. It’s her lucky day.

I am dying to get on one of the school computers, but I have to get rid of Sam first. Even though I’ve separated them at the lips, I can’t seem to get Sam and Margaret separated at the hips. At lunch, he puts one of his hands in her back pocket while he eats, and then pouts when Margaret doesn’t do the same thing. They then have study hall together, and he spends all of it stroking her and talking to her about the movie they saw last night.

Eighth period is the only class they don’t have together, so I decide to run with it. As soon as Sam drops her off at the classroom door, I have her go to the teacher, say she’s going to the nurse, and head straight to the library.

First, I finish forwarding all my emails from my old account. All that remains are the two emails from Nathan; I can’t bring myself to delete them, just as I can’t bring myself to delete the account. For some reason, I want him to be able to contact me. I feel that much responsibility.

I load up the new email account, with the intention of writing Rhiannon back. Much to my surprise, there’s already another email from her. Giddy, I open it.

Nathan,

Apparently, Steve doesn’t have a cousin Nathan, and none of his cousins were at his party. Care to explain?

Rhiannon

I don’t deliberate. I don’t weigh my options. I just type and hit send.

Rhiannon,

I can, indeed, explain. Can we meet up? It’s the kind of explanation that needs to be done in person.

Love,

Nathan

It’s not that I’m planning to tell the truth. I just want to give myself time to think of the best lie.

The last bell rings, and I know Sam will be looking for Margaret soon. When I find him at his locker, he acts as if we haven’t seen each other in weeks. When I kiss him, I pretend I am practicing for Rhiannon. When I kiss him, it feels almost disloyal to Rhiannon. When I kiss him, my mind is hours away, with her.

Day 6002

The universe, it seems, is on my side the next morning, because when I wake up in the body of Megan Powell, I also wake up a mere hour away from Rhiannon.

Then, when I check my email, there’s a message from her.

Nathan,

This better be a good explanation. I’ll meet you in the coffee shop at the Clover Bookstore at 5.

Rhiannon

To which I reply:

Rhiannon,

I’ll be there. Although not in a way you might expect.

Bear with me and hear me out.

A

Megan Powell is going to have to leave cheerleading practice a little early today. I go through her closet and pick the outfit that most looks like something Rhiannon would wear; I’ve found that people tend to trust other people who dress like them. And whatever I do, I am going to need all the trust I can get.

The whole day, I think about what I’m going to say to her, and what she’s going to say. It feels entirely dangerous to tell her the truth. I have never told anyone the truth. I have never come close.

But none of the lies fit well. And the more I stumble through possible lies, I realize I am heading in the direction of telling her everything. I am learning that a life isn’t real unless someone else knows its reality. And I want my life to be real.

If I’ve gotten used to my life, could somebody else?

If she believes in me, if she feels the enormity like I do, she will believe in this.

And if she doesn’t believe in me, if she doesn’t feel the enormity, then I will simply seem like one more crazy person let loose on the world.

There’s not much to lose in that.

But, of course, it will feel like losing everything.

I manufacture a doctor’s appointment for Megan, and at four o’clock, I’m on the road to Rhiannon’s town.

There’s some traffic, and I get a little lost, so I’m ten minutes late to the bookstore. I look in the café window and see her sitting there, flipping through a magazine, looking up at the door every now and then. I want to keep her like this, hold her in this moment. I know everything is about to change, and I fear that one day I will long for this minute before anything is said, that I will want to travel back in time and undo what’s coming next.